Erie, Pa. -- Even if the disc jockey hadn't been blaring their favorite songs at an ear-piercing decibel, the Graf brothers would have been pumped. This was, after all, an event the two middle schoolers had looked forward to for months.

Like most people born with achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism, 12-year-old Will and his adopted brother, Max, 11, only rarely get the opportunity to socialize with other little people, particularly those of the opposite sex. So this Friday-night dance just a few days before Halloween at the downtown Avalon Hotel was not to be missed.

Sponsored by the regional chapter of the Little People of America, the dance and other events over the weekend drew more than 100 members from Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York. They shared meals, attended workshops and enjoyed social activities, including an all-day trip Saturday to nearby Splash Lagoon indoor water park. But it was the evening dances and the opportunity to hang out, stare-free, with kids who look just like them that would resonate in the two brothers' memories.

It's not that Max and Will, both sixth-graders at Avonworth Middle School, are lacking in the friends department. Well-liked by their classmates, they're active in everything from intramural sports to student council and Boy Scouts. And at an age when many kids are so painfully self-conscious about the way they look and where they fall in the social pecking order, the boys are remarkably comfortable in their own skin. How else to explain Will's long blond locks in a school full of crew cuts and his brother's penchant for Hawaiian shirts, when striped polo shirts and hoodies are the unspoken uniform?

Nowhere was that self-assurance more evident than at the middle school's first "social" on Oct. 12. Primped to the nines and bubbling with excitement, the siblings quickly disappeared into the shrieking sea of 'tweens, leaving older sister Laura, an average-size eighth-grader, in the dust. The Ben Avon brothers ultimately ended up in different parts of the darkened gym: Will hung mostly with his guy buddies, while Max -- who'd worked up the courage to ask a female classmate to meet him at the dance -- happily showed off his dance moves to a gaggle of giggling girls.

When he was a fifth-grader, Max confessed with a grin before heading off to the dance, he was simply too nervous to take that leap. With several weeks of middle school under his belt, those fears have melted away.

"I've got the guts!" he proclaimed, his voice edged with pride.

Not that having, or not having, a date really mattered. While boys and girls definitely start looking at each other differently in middle school, this early in the game, there's still plenty who couldn't be less interested in the opposite sex. Chief among them would be Will, who makes it quite clear he's "just not into that right now." So while some of their fellow sixth-graders paired off, most of the 150 or so kids at the dance congregated into small groups on the dance floor or headed to an auxiliary gym to shoot baskets or kick around soccer balls.

How the boys would adjust to this all-important transitional year was a major concern for their mother, Suzanne Graf, and her husband, John, both Avonworth graduates. Conformity rules in middle school, and figuring out the new social code can be as challenging as getting yourself between classes in just three minutes. In particular, Mrs. Graf said, she worried about dances and whether her sons would feel uncomfortable when slow songs came on.

At LPA events, she noted, 13-year-old Laura dances with little people (or LPs, as those with dwarfism prefer to be called) on her knees. "But I don't know that someone in sixth grade would know to do that."

Turns out, they do. While the classmate Max invited to the dance proved too shy to dance one-on-one, several other girls couldn't have cared less about all those inquiring eyes; when the music slowed and softened, they instinctively got down on their knees in front of him and rested their hands lightly on his shoulders.

"It's true, I succeeded and danced with some girls," Max laughingly recalled a few days after the dance, causing Will -- who considers himself not only the better dancer but also the more social of the two -- to playfully roll his eyes.

"I was kind of nervous about my style, because my sister kept saying, 'Max, you look like you're from California,' and stuff like that," he continued. But nobody said a word.

At the LPA dance in Erie two weeks later, however, it was Will who was itching to get onto the dance floor. The only thing cramping his style, in fact, was the annoying machinations of his little brother Charlie. Despite being a mere kindergartner, the 5-year-old was determined to boogie right alongside the big kids.

Make no mistake: Max and Will certainly have fun hanging out with their Avonworth classmates and feel very much like one of the guys. It's just that interacting with other little people at LPA events provides a special camaraderie -- and not just because everything from the snack table to the limbo line is tailored to their size.

Various sources estimate the number of dwarfs -- defined by the LPA as those 4-feet-10 and smaller -- at about 300,000 in the United States. So unless they attend the national LPA convention each summer or one of the group's regional events, there's a good chance they may never see another little person until they're adults.

In a world scaled to much larger people, these LPA events play a big part in making her sons feel not so alone, Mrs. Graf said. "They get to see that there are other kids going through the same kind of things, and that they can still be cool."

Just as important, she added, is having the opportunity to interact with adult LPs and see that they can do and be whatever they want. "And they really do feel that way," Mrs. Graf said. "They have no fears about getting older."

With that in mind, it's completely understandable that Will has already made it clear to his parents that when the time comes, he intends to date only dwarf girls. But that's still a couple of years in the future; the focus now at LPA events is simply feeling comfortable.

"I just like dancing with little people better, because they're our height," Will explained.

"Yeah," Max agreed with a shake of the head. "You feel a little more equal."