Nanakuli High School senior Adam Gala­rio took the stage at the Hawaii Okinawan Center ballroom, natty in the all-black tuxedo presented to him by his grandfather, and bowed his head slightly to accept the gold-paper crown and sash signifying him as prom king.

He turned toward the cheering assemblage of friends, family and teachers and broke into a toothy, face-crowding smile that left his contingent of Golden Hawks chaperones in tears.

"Wonderful," proclaimed Nana­kuli autism specialist and teacher Tanya Pacheco. "This is what it’s all about."

The honor took Gala­rio by surprise. What he had been looking forward to the most ("the food") turned out to be an afterthought during an evening in which he and queen Chelsea Ferrick of Mili­lani High School held court over what all agreed was the best party in town.

Fifty-four students from seven public high schools on Oahu attended the second annual Special Needs Prom on Friday evening. The dance was dubbed "Peter’s Prom" this year in honor of Kailua student Peter-Jerome Romano, who died shortly after attending last year’s inaugural event.

They were joined by a near-equal number of special-education teachers, skills trainers and parents, most of whom sat at separate tables in the back.

The prom was the brainchild of special-education teachers Todd Cam­bonga of Mililani High School and Kahea Ilae of Castle High School, who wanted to offer special-needs students an opportunity to experience the prom in a way that celebrated their unique experiences and perspectives.

"I’d been a chaperone at ‘regular’ proms, and I’d seen how these kids felt embarrassed and intimidated, how they were separated from everyone else," Cam­bonga said. "Some would never even go because of that."

Ilae said the special-needs prom draws on the students’ natural sense of inclusiveness and community to ensure that everyone who comes is free to be themselves.

"Some of them have little behaviors that in a typical setting other people might stare at or react to," Ilae said. "Those things don’t matter here. This is an environment where everyone accepts each other for who they are, and they all just have a great time being together. Everybody deserves to have that experience."

Sixteen-year-old Jasmine Quinto of Mili­lani had been looking forward to the prom for months. She chose a chic black-and-white gown from a bridal shop two months in advance and fine-tuned her look by getting her hair, nails and makeup done earlier in the day.

From the back of the room, Jasmine’s mother, Marlene Oda, beamed as she watched her daughter rush to the dance floor on the first telltale bass notes to Michael Jackson’s "Thriller."

"It’s a good feeling," Oda said. "I like the safety she has here. She’s with her teachers and peers, and it’s so comfortable."

No one had a better night than Moana­lua sophomore Lindsey Johnson, who celebrated her 17th birthday onstage being serenaded by a room full of old and new friends.

"I dreamed about this (night)," Johnson said afterward. "This was a wish come true."

Many of the students knew each other through their participation in the Hawaii Special Olympics and other programs for youth with special needs. But prior friendship was no requisite for joining the party as the kids packed the dance floor to shimmy, strut, pop, lock, pogo and boogie in nothing resembling unison.

By the time the deejay played will.i.am’s "Scream and Shout," dropping the sound at the right moments so the kids could fill in the "oh-we-ohs," the floor was so packed that parents and teachers had to move the tables back to make more room.

And maybe it goes on and on and on and on

When me and you party together

I wish this night would last forever

King Adam Galario stood in the midst of it all, his sweat-damp crown askew, his sash now missing a couple of letters: "Pro- Ki-g."

Galario watched as Kailua senior Kekoa Tato, glasses fogged, demonstrated the finer points of the robot.

He watched as Tyler Siekman, a sophomore from Lei­le­hua, danced hand in hand with Miss Hawaii Lauren Cheape, also a state legislator, and as Mili­lani senior Jenna Fuku­naga hurried back to the dance floor after a quick hug from mom Lurline.

Freshman classmate D’Marcus Ottley finally ventured from the edge of the stage and let his feet find the rhythm in his slick white patent leather shoes.

It was, Galario’s smile seemed to say, a heck of a night to be king.