I was in junior high school. No more elementary school stuff. We had different teachers and a cafeteria where we could choose what we wanted to eat and even a student store. We had a gym and showers. There was a pay phone in the hall near the main office. We even had our own personal locker.

And, then there were those school dances.

I had two younger brothers. Nobody ever showed me how to dance. I'd watch Al Jarvis and his "Make Believe Ballroom," on Channel 7 but that didn't help. I would check out, "You're Hit Parade" with Dorothy Collins and Snooky Lanson. But that show's dancing was more like a musical. And, "Shrimp boats are a comin'" just didn't seem to do it for me.

So I'd stand with a line of kids (almost always boys) plastered against the wall on the side of the all-purpose room. We'd watch crinkly skirts drop little circles of starch on the floor as the sounds of Lavern Baker singing, "Tweedlee Dee" bounced around the room.

Every time I went to a dance, I felt out of place. I was back in elementary school. The crowd was on the dance floor. The rest of us were just spectators.

"Come on coach - I want to be on the team!" I wasn't really sure why I even went to these things.

The next semester, a girl named Sarah invited me to a party at her house. For awhile everybody just laughed and talked and stuff. Then, at one point, the lights dimmed and the sounds of Johnny Mathis warbling, "Chances Are" embraced the room.

Couples were forming. Heads were resting on shoulders. Except for Mr. Mathis, the room had become quiet. The only other sounds were slow, shuffling feet.

There was no wall to lean on this time. Sarah had invited exactly nine girls and nine boys! A quick survey of the room confirmed this. Eight couples migrated around the room and there, by the bowl with the orange punch and some cup cakes with white icing and colored sprinkles - the chocolate ones were all gone - stood Elaine - ALL ALONE.

The embarrassment of standing there with Elaine by herself was just too much. It was even more uncomfortable than the possibility of dancing.

I swallowed hard and casually sauntered over and asked Elaine if she would like to dance. She smiled and nodded.

We assumed the proper position and I began to slowly walk with her around the room. A sweaty palm groped for her waist. The material was wrinkly and tight against her body. How close do I dare get. I didn't want to crush her.

Then a hand reached behind my neck and pulled me a little closer. The air suddenly smelled sweeter. Our bodies seemed to gently merge. I glanced around the room to see what was happening with the other couples and checking to see if anyone was noticing me.

Hey, this wasn't too terrible!

I stepped on her flats a few times but she didn't seem to mind.

I'm cool!

That night I aged several years. I think I actually got a little taller too. I now was looking forward to all the "slow dances." "Hey, check me out Arthur Murray."

As the evening wore down, I found Sarah and sincerely thanked her for inviting me to such a great party. It was a cool night outside and the air felt good to breath in.

"So how was the party?" my dad said as I opened the door to our '55 Plymouth.

"Not so bad. OK, I guess."

My dad nodded as the stick shift ground into first gear.