“You already bought the dress,” she said. “Wear it.”
So I did.
That night, I sat near the edge of the ballroom in a dark blue dress, watching everyone else dance.
People smiled at me.
Some came over to say hello.
But whenever the music slowed down, they quietly disappeared back toward the dance floor.
No one asked me to join them.
Then a boy stopped in front of me.
His name was Jason Miller.
Eighteen years old.
Captain of the basketball team.
Popular, confident, and probably the last person I expected to notice me.
He held out his hand.
“Rachel, dance with me.”
I stared at him.
“Jason… I can’t.”
He glanced at my wheelchair.
Then he smiled.
“Then we’ll do it differently.”
Before I could answer, he rolled me onto the dance floor.
He spun my chair gently.
Held my hands.
Made ridiculous moves until I started laughing.
