Pam Beesly stood in a shadowy corner at the loud, crowded party. As a teenager, Pam was shy and quiet and a very talented artist. She had won the art award every year since she had first arrived at high school. Art students, smart students, drama students, basically any student that was un-athletic and actually tried at school was considered a loser at St Peter's High School so Pam was naturally stunned when popular, athletic Roy Anderson asked her to the party. For as long as Pam could remember she had faded into the woodwork. Youngest in a family of 4 girls, Pam had grown up in the shadows of her confident, beautiful sisters. They were all straight A students and somehow managed to stay popular, pretty and sporty with lots of friends and a new date every weekend. Pam had a lot to live up to and unfortunately she had only managed to continue the tradition of straight A's. The truth was, Pam was actually very pretty with big green eyes, auburn curls and a curvy figure. But she suffered a low self esteem and a shy attitude, hiding herself in bulky turtleneck sweaters and jeans, letting her hair fall in her face or tied back in a ponytail.

Her mother had always smiled and said that it was all a phase; she would grow into her looks and get some confidence when she went to high school. Pam hated the way her mother said 'shy', with a little smile like it was cute. If only she knew! It was awful – clammy hands, shaking knees, trembling, croaky, voice so quiet you were asked again and again to repeat whatever you had said. Pam had memorized the process of whenever she met someone:

"What's your name, dear?"

"Pam Beesly."

"What was that?"

"Pam Beesly."

"Once again?"

"PAM Beesly."

"Fran Teasy?"

"Pam BEESLY."

"Sorry?"

"PAM BEESLY!"

"Oh, lovely to meet you."

Now Pam stood in the corner nursing a paper cup of orange soda searching for Roy in the crowd. She gasped as someone knocked into her spilling her soda all over her shoes. She wished she hadn't come. She wasn't the partying sort of girl, if only she had stayed home and worked on her art. Pam looked awkwardly at a couple making out on the couch. She had never seen something like that close up and she felt embarrassed.

"Hey! Pam, hey!" Roy appeared by her side holding 2 beers and shouting over the music. Pam broke into a relieved smile.

"Roy, hi!" She cried.

"I got you a beer." He offered. Pam reached for the bottle then hesitated. She didn't drink. She was underage and besides, she thought people who drank too much were idiots. Already people were stumbling around the party knocking into things and slurring their words. On the other hand she wanted to impress Roy and she didn't want to seem like a baby. Pam paused, thinking.

"Ah…no thankyou, actually, I don't drink." She finally said. Roy laughed, though not exactly unkindly.

"You don't drink?" He asked, a little patronizing. Pam blushed in the darkness and stood a little straighter.

"Just say no and all that." She said quietly staring intently out the window.

"Fair enough." Roy smiled and drank about half his beer in 2 gulps, carelessly tossing the second bottle at a passing guy.

"Do you know him?" Pam asked.

"Nah. C'mon, let's dance." He said casually grabbing her hand and dragging her into the crowd. Pam awkwardly copied Roy and the other party guests feeling silly. She felt so uncomfortable. This was definitely not her crowd. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how she had gotten here.

2 DAYS EARLIER.

Pam slammed her locker shut and tried to juggle her paint box, French book, notebook, maths folder, science textbook and the huge stack of school newspapers she was supposed to hand out. Just as she was about to drop her French and science books, a hand reached out and caught the slipping books. Pam gasped slightly and looked up, balancing her remaining items.

"You right?" A tall, thin boy about her age was looking at her with concern offering Pam her books. He had tousled, caramel coloured hair looking like it had never been brushed or maybe like he had just gotten out of bed. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt open over a white T-shirt. His eyes were a startling shade of dark green and he was gangly, he hadn't quite grown into his body. Pam couldn't help smiling as the boy kindly handed over her books.

"Uh, yes, sorry. I was just…just you know. I'm not very co-ordinated." She blurted out and blushed, immediately feeling stupid.

"Yeah, join the club. I'm Jim Halpert, I just moved here." He had a nice smile, Pam thought to herself. And a nice voice, reassuring.

"Oh. Well, welcome to St Peter's. You'll like it here." She smiled, trying to regain some dignity. "Well…actually, you probably won't." She confessed and was delighted when he laughed.

"Yeah, well, I have to go to maths. I'll catch you around…Beesly?" He questioned looking at the half of her name that was peeking out from her half-shown maths book.

"Oh, yeah. Beesly. Um, that is, Pamela Beesly. Pam for short. Pam Beesly." She stuttered. Jim smiled again.

"I'll see you around Beesly." He walked down the hall whistling. Pam leant against her locker and stared after him. She slapped herself once to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She wasn't. She couldn't stop a smile as she straightened her black skirt over black tights and tugged down her red turtleneck sweater before hurrying to class.

As Pam was rushing down the halls to French, Room 11B, she heard an unfamiliar voice call out.

"Hey! Hey, girl in the red sweater!" She spun around and saw popular Roy Anderson striding casually towards her. She pointed to herself mouthing,

"Me?"

"Yeah, you." He caught up to her. "Can I ask you something?"

"I…I'm late for class." She said confused. Why was the most popular guy in school talking to her?

"It'll only take 5 seconds, I swear. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to a party with me on Saturday."

"What? I mean….what is this a joke?" Pam asked warily.

"Huh? No! No, I swear, this isn't a joke." Roy promised, bewildered.

"Oh…well…um…yes. Okay, I guess so."

"Great. I'll pick you up on Saturday, 8.45. What's your address?"

"14 Avinson Street, East Waverly. Here." She scrawled her address hastily on a scrap of paper. She had watched him wave and walk away, down the hall and around the corner, thinking she might be dreaming right now. She jumped happily releasing the pent up squeal and hurried to maths, not caring a single bit that she was very, very late.

And now here she was, dancing in the middle of a room full of strangers. She hated it. And at the same time…she sort of loved it too.