Dad, the Disco King

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” I tell Jasmine before math class.

“Tell me the good news first,” she says.

I grin. “My uncle Barry is getting married next week. Dad said I can bring a friend to the party.”

“Is there going to be dancing? I love to dance.” Jasmine spins around.

I frown. “Yes. That’s the bad news.”

“Winnie, how can that be bad?” Jasmine asks. “We take hip-hop lessons. You’re a great dancer.”

“I’m not the problem. It’s my dad.” I stare at the ground. “Last year my family went to a wedding. The DJ started playing disco music. You know, that old stuff from the 1970s.”

“So?” says Jasmine.

“So when the music came on, my dad ran to the dance floor. He unbuttoned his shirt! He pointed at the ceiling and shook his hips. It was awful. People were laughing. They thought it was hysterical. They called him the Disco King.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “So what if your dad makes a fool of himself? It’s no big deal.”

“You haven’t seen the Disco King,” I say with a sigh.

After school, Jasmine comes over to my house. “Can’t you just ask your dad not to dance?” she asks.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” I say.

Jasmine thinks. She walks over to my dresser. She picks up my piggy bank. “How much money do you have?” she asks.

“Three dollars and 50 cents.”

“I have an idea! People tip DJs to play certain songs they like. Let’s pay the DJ to not play certain songs. We’ll just tell him no disco music,” she says with a smile.

“I guess it’s worth a try,” I say.

The party has started. I’m wearing a blue dress with a pocket. That’s where I hid the money for the DJ. I push the food around my plate. I’m too nervous to eat.

Jasmine nudges me. “It’s time,” she whispers. “The DJ is almost done setting up. He’ll be playing music soon.”

We need a reason to get up from the table. So I ask my parents if Jasmine and I can go to the restroom.

I go in an empty stall and lock the door. I sit down and hear a PLINK!

I jump up. Three dollar bills are floating above a quarter in the toilet. That’s almost all of my money!

“Hurry up,” Jasmine says.

I groan. “Do you think 25 cents will be enough for the DJ?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Don’t even ask.”

We walk over to the DJ. “What can I do for you?” he asks.

I stick out my hand. I have a quarter in my palm.

“Um. I was wondering if you could not play any disco music. It’s . . . it’s . . . really important.”

“No disco music?” The DJ frowns at the coin I’m holding.

“See, her uncle is the guy who just got married,” Jasmine says.

She looks over her shoulder, like what she is saying is top secret.

“His ex-girlfriend loved disco music. It will bring back bad memories.”

I give Jasmine a confused look. She gives me a sharp elbow to my side.

“Yeah, bad memories,” I say.

“Aw, keep the money,” the DJ tells me. “And thanks for the inside scoop on your uncle.”

Saved by Jasmine!

The lights dim and music flows. I tap my foot to the beat. My uncle Barry and aunt Sarah are first on the dance floor. Soon other people join in.

“Come on,” Jasmine says. “Let’s show ’em what we learned in dance class.”

We go out on the dance floor. Uncle Barry comes over.

He says, “I see dancing runs in our family. We need to get your dad out here. He’s still sitting at a table.”

Uncle Barry goes over to the DJ. I suddenly feel sick.

“Uh-oh,” Jasmine says.

Uncle Barry takes the microphone from the DJ. “How about we play a song for my brother. Got any disco music?”

The DJ seems totally confused. He gives me a concerned look. A thumping beat comes out of the speakers.

My dad runs to the dance floor. He unbuttons his shirt. He points to the ceiling. He shoots one hip to the side.

I cover my eyes with my hands. “I have to go hide,” I say.

Everyone is watching my dad. I crawl under the table. Someone raises the tablecloth. 

It’s Jasmine. “You should come out! Everyone is having a good time. They love your dad. Come see!” she says.

“No,” I say. “I’m staying here until it’s time to go home.”

“Your dad told everyone he would teach them an old line dance. I want to learn too. Come on, Winnie,” Jasmine says, tugging my arm.

It ends up being an easy dance to learn. Some of the grown-ups get mixed up and go the wrong way. They laugh as they bump into each other.

Jasmine leans over. “You’re so silly. Everything turned out fine.”

She’s right. Maybe having a Disco King for a dad isn’t so bad. It makes me a Disco Princess!