I don’t really go to parties. I’ve been to a party before, like, a really small party. But I don’t party. That’s why it took Melissa over two weeks to convince me to go to the end of the year senior party. Almost everybody in my grade is here at Blake’s house.

Now, let me be honest, Melissa’s constant nagging isn’t the only reason I’m here. I overheard in English class that Berkeley would be here. I’m sure he’s at every party, but this is the last one of my high school career, so I see it as my last chance.

I have no plans to do anything significant for attention at this party so that Berkeley would notice me, but just showing up seems like a great leap forward.

“Melissa,” I hiss as we walk through the crowded entry room. I feel like everybody is staring at me. And it’s not just the anxiety, heads are turning. “Why is everybody looking at us?”

Melissa is too confident to have noticed, but she looks around and then back to me. When her eyes glance over my face her mouth drops open. “What the fuck is on your face?”

My hands go straight to my face but I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What? What? Do I have a bruise or something? Or a pimple?” Neither of those seem logical.

“No,” Melissa grabs my hand and pulls me quickly to the kitchen where it’s pretty quiet. She whips out her phone and shows me my reflection in the camera. “You have spots, Amy!”

She’s right. My entire face is covered with big blue spots. The don’t feel like anything other than skin. “Come on,” Melissa snatches back her phone, “I’m taking you to the hospital. And right at the worst moment ever, Berkeley walks in.

“Hospital?” he butts into the conversation. “Who’s going to the hospital?”

My back is towards him so he probably doesn’t even know it’s me. I could just run out and leave Melissa, but then she would tell him it’s me. Instead, I turn around to face him and he simply doesn’t react. My brow furrows and Melissa’s eyes narrow.

“I have spots,” I say.

“She has spots!” Melissa urges.

“First party?” Berkeley asks. I nod, very confused. “Yeah, happened to me my first time too.”

“Didn’t happen to me,” Melissa says at a much higher pitch than normal.

“You have older siblings?” Berkeley asks Melissa who nods. “They probably threw a party at your house when you were younger. You hit your first party before your brain was formed. Tons of fun.”

“What do I do?” I whisper.

By some miracle Berkeley hears me. “Just have a soda and pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Does this happen all the time?” Melissa asks.

“A lot of kids have been to something party like a a young age and it went unnoticed, but if you have chill parents or you’re an only child with a babysitter you wouldn’t have the exposure. It’s first party syndrome.” Berkeley seems like an expert. He grabs he a soda out for he fridge and then swings his arm around me. “Drink. Let’s go meet some people.”

“I know all these people,” I say and look to Melissa for instructions on what to do.

“But you don’t know them at a party,” he smirks. “Vamos!” He leads me dramatically out of the kitchen and around the party taking me to multiple conversations. Everybody stares at my blue spotted face but eventually it seems to fade. Now everybody is just staring at Berkeley with his arm around me.

We spend an hour walking around until we both get a little tired and slouchy on our feet so we hit the couch. Berkeley and I talk about college, and movies, and family, and all of the above until my eyes get droopy. I try to get up to find Melissa to take me home, but Berkeley says he’ll drive me. We tap Melissa on our way out and she winks at me obnoxiously. I glare into her soul until Berkeley and I are out the door.

That was one of the tamest parties I’ve been to in my life, and since then I’ve never sauntered around with Berkeley or truly partied with Melissa like we were supposed to that night. But it was fun. It was a good first party.