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When I was in high school, I originally refused to go to my senior prom. I didn’t have a date nor did I give a shit. That was until my friend Shara who was on the student council realized I had my money from a freshman year pizza sale in my activities account that was never used and took it upon herself to convince me to go with her friends as a group. As much as I didn’t want to go, I became excited. Might as well live it up, right?
Little did I know within 48 hours, prom would be a disaster. Not because of my friends by any means, but because of my ankle.
Two days before prom, we had the yearly mock car crash and anti drinking rally out in the parking lot. As we were heading back, a few of us took a short cut across the volleyball fields when I fell into a sinkhole and sprained my ankle. The nurse told me not to be on my feet, but as an assistant coach for the township’s Special Olympics team, I had no choice.
The next morning during practice, I tried to keep off my ankle as much as I could. But then came Ricky, this great kid I grew up with who happened to have down syndrome and was non verbal, decide not to run the full track.
I asked what was wrong and he mumbled something that resembled. “No run. You go bye bye. No run without you.”
He was right.It was the last practice before college. I had to do this.
I sacrificed my dancing shoes for a limpy run around the track so Ricky could gain that motivation again.
Let’s just say, my ankle was about 900 times it’s size and was as blue as my dress.
I spent the night drinking cola with the band and drama geeks instead while my friends went to cut a rug on the dance floor. And as bummed as I was that I basically threw away my senior prom over running with a Special Olympian on a sprained ankle, it was all worth it. My feet weren’t dancing, my heart was instead.