Heather Anne

Before Michael Jackson was a punchline, he was my hero. When I was a kid I loved him so much I had that red jacket—you know the one—and a single silver glove. By the time I was six-years-old it was obvious that my great talent was going to be video games, not rhythm or vocals. But my mom and dad let me dance to the Thriller record for hours and hours anyway, singing about how Billie Jean was not my lover. (She's just a girl who thinks that I am the one.) (But the kid is not my son.)

Sometimes I would dance in the yard, twirling around in my sharp red jacket with the metallic shoulders. My across-the-road neighbor, Ivy, would walk to the end of her yard, toes touching the edge of the street, and shout, "Heather! Tell your mom if you can come over!" I'd roll my eyes and say, "It's ASK, Ivy! ASK your mom if you can come over. And I don't want to come over. You never help me pick up my toys when you come to my house, and I always have to clean up when I come to your house. Besides, can't you see I'm dancing? Now, beat it! Just beat it!"

The only Michael Jackson rule in my house when I was a kid was that I couldn't listen to the actual song of Thriller before bed because it creeped me out and I couldn't sleep. Every time something new and terrible is allegedly uncovered about Michael Jackson, or every time someone makes a joke about him, it breaks my heart a little.

Saturday I was in the living room putting new stickers on my Guitar Hero guitar when Amy blew my mind. Out of the clear sky she cranked up Thriller and started doing the dance. The whole dance. The actual dance.

"Amy," I said, "what... what are you doing?"

"Playing," she said.

I watched her roar-to-the-right and roar-to-the-left, my very soul filling with a sense of awe and wonder it has scarcely known. "Yeah, you're playing," I said. "With zombie-shaped fire!"

At first there was a woman barking out instructions at Amy on a video. "Right-left-right-left. Booty bounce! Booty Bounce!" But soon the coach was replaced by me: "Shake-it-and-a-uppa. And-a-shake-it-and-a-uppa!"

Amy is learning the dance for a project for school, but the place she learned it from is called Thrill the World and their goal is for all the people in the world to do The Thriller dance at the same time on the same day: October 25th, 2008. Apparently, on October 27, 2007, 1,722 people, in 52 cities, on 5 continents, danced Thriller at exactly the same time!

Amy hasn't suggested we Thrill the World yet, but I'll bet she will. And even though I can't dance, I'll say yes. I love my young Michael Jackson.

And unlike Ivy, Amy always cleans up my toys.