The Slings and Arrows of 7th-Grade Romance ; Middle School Valentine’s Dance Could Make Cupid Seek Therapy
By RUTH PADAWER, STAFF WRITER
Oh, the complicated romantic lives of middle schoolers.
As the Valentine’s dance at New Milford’s middle school begins, would-be Romeos cluster on the rolled-up wrestling mats and slouch over Game Boys. Future Juliets whisper and shriek in the corner, eyeing the dance floor that gapes wide and empty.
On the kids’ advice, the grown-ups turn down the lights. Ever so slowly, the kids warm up. The DJ’s colored spotlights pulse. A mudslide of jackets tumbles over the floor. Girls goad each other toward the center, where they bop for two seconds then run back to the shadows. Boys edge awkwardly toward the middle, jamming their hands in their pockets and trying to look casual.
Will it stay that way?
“Oh, no,” says seventh-grader Alicia Aab. “That was so last year. Now we all talk together.” She is surrounded only by girls.
“Yeah, now we try to dance with as many people as we can,” says Amanda Machinski.
“Well, some of them,” Alicia says.
“Yeah,” Amanda says delicately: “Some of them are a little immature.”
The break comes when “Cotton Eye Joe” blasts over the speakers. Suddenly, nearly all 186 kids are line dancing jubilantly. Mrs. Carroll’s gym classes have been immersed in this dance, along with the Electric Slide. At last the kids don’t have to figure out what to do with their bodies.
Soon, lots of kids are sweating. A few break dance. A few shimmy. A few pretend to be in their own music videos.
A girl approaches some boys. To one in particular, she purrs: “Are you scared of me?”
“No,” says the boy, as his friends elbow him.
“Yes, you are,” she says. She giggles and disappears.
Someone suggests he ask her to dance. “You kidding?” he says. “She scares me!”
A few feet away, a boy and girl chase each other.
Eighth-grader Ariel Pasquale rolls her eyes. “That’s such a sixth- or seventh-grade thing to do.”
Jeramy Fernandez, seventh grade, scans the crowd. “I was hoping my ex-girlfriend wouldn’t be here because I was afraid there’d be a catfight. We went out for three months, and two weeks later, I had a new girlfriend, who was really my old girlfriend, before the three- month girlfriend. The girlfriend I have now, when she broke up with me the last time, my heart exploded.”
At last, a slow song comes on. A few couples materialize, arms awkwardly around each other, their moves stiff. Not Miles Viant, a seventh-grade Don Juan who is slow-dancing with his girlfriend. His arms are slung comfortably around her waist, his eyes closed as he nuzzles a cheek to her forehead. She is blas, checking out the scene around her, chewing gum, blowing bubbles.
Later, Miles describes his Valentine. A crowd gathers to eavesdrop.
“I’ve been going out with her for two months and nine days,” Viant is saying, “and I really like her. I love her. She’s sweet, beautiful, nice and cute. She’s perfect.”
Several girls sigh.
“How depressing,” mumbles Jedzel Mascarenas, an eighth-grader. She reviews her luck so far: “I’ve had two boyfriends, but I dumped one of them because he was just using me.”
Someone tries to cheer her: Don’t worry. Someone will say that about you one day.
Jedzel looks unconvinced.
“In the meantime,” her friend says, grabbing her, “let’s go have fun.”
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