The Party Where I Thought Everyone Was Judging Me
The party had fairy lights, a table of cookies and about fifteen people. I stood in the doorway holding a mug of tea like a shield.
It was Maya’s autumn party, the kind with pumpkins on the shelves and blankets on every sofa. Zoe had already disappeared into the crowd, laughing. And me? I was holding my mug with both hands, and my mind was already running a very busy movie.
In that movie, every single person was looking at me. They were thinking: Why is she standing there? Why is her sweater so big? Why doesn’t she say something?
I could feel it on my skin, like sunburn. I did not dare to walk in. I did not dare to walk out either.
Then a hand touched my sleeve. Zoe had come back for me.
· · ·
The spotlight check
“Come with me,” she said, and she led me onto the little balcony, where it was quiet and the moon looked like a thumbnail.
“Close your eyes,” said Zoe. “Take a slow breath in. Now, out.”
I breathed. The fairy lights twinkled. Behind the glass door, the party glowed like a snow globe.
“Here’s a game,” Zoe whispered. “It’s called the spotlight check. When you walk back in, you count. Not what you think people are thinking. What you can actually see. How many people are looking at you? And how many are looking at their cup, their phone, or the cookies?”
“What if everyone’s looking?”
“Then you can tell me,” said Zoe, “and I’ll eat a cookie for each one.”
I laughed, a small surprised laugh, and the knot in my chest came a little loose.
“Here’s the secret,” she added. “Everybody at that party thinks they’re the one being watched. Maya is worried about her playlist. Theo is worried about his sleeve. Almost nobody is watching you, because they’re all busy being the main character of their own scary movie.”
· · ·
Counting
When we walked back in, I counted. I really did, in my head, like a tiny scientist.
One person looked at me, and it was Maya, and she smiled and said, “Oh good, you’re here!” Two people were looking at the cookies. Three were arguing happily about which song was best. A boy in glasses was staring at his shoe with great concentration. Nobody was making a face. Nobody was whispering about my sweater.
“Well?” said Zoe, handing me a cookie.
“One,” I said. “And she was friendly.”
“Then I owe you nothing,” said Zoe. “That’s a pity. I wanted ten cookies.”
We sat on the sofa with our mugs, and then somebody told a story about a runaway pumpkin, and I laughed out loud before I remembered to be afraid.
I still feel the old sunburn sometimes, at parties and in the cafeteria. But now I have a game to play. I breathe, I count, and I look at what is actually there instead of the movie.
Most of the time, there is a plate of cookies, a lamp, and a roomful of people who are just as busy worrying about themselves as I am.
With love,
Lina
