The Psychozone by David Lubar Page A

too much.
    But Saturday nights were tough.
    Dan walked.
    He passed through his own neighborhood, traveling as unnoticed as a gum wrapper blowing across the pavement. He entered another part of town, where the houses were older and the streets were narrower. I’ve got to change, he thought. This can’t go on forever. He remembered a moment from far in his past. Hiding behind his mother’s legs as she’d talked to one of her friends, he’d heard her say, “Dan’s shy.” She’d spoken as if this explained all he was and all he’d ever be.
    Dan walked.
    He passed another party in a house to his right. Loud music washed over him as it spilled across the lawn. Ahead, Dan saw a group of kids coming toward him. He recognized several of them from school.
    Join them, he thought. It should be so easy. Just say hi and turn and walk the way they walked. They reached him. He took a breath to speak. The words didn’t come.
    The kids passed him, talking and horsing around.
    Another memory drifted into his thoughts. Another phrase spoken often in the past. Dan doesn’t make friends easily.
    Dan walked.

    He started to cross the street, moving slowly, thinking about how hard it was for him to say “hi” and wondering why it seemed so easy for everyone else.
    A car horn blasted through him.
    Dan jumped.
    The car shot by, just missing him.
    Dan walked.
    He wandered until he found himself near the end of a dead-end street in the oldest part of town. The other houses were dark, but one house, the final house, showed signs of life. Dan could see kids inside listening to music, their images blurred by the thin curtains that hung in the windows.
    The curtains blew open for a moment in the light breeze, giving him a better view. A couple of the kids looked familiar.
    â€œIt’s now or never,” Dan told himself. “I’m going to do it,” he whispered. He paused at the front steps, angry with his own heart for pounding so hard and betraying his anxiety. He wiped his palms against his shirt as he thought about walking up to the door.
    Then he did it. He went up the steps.
    He knocked. The act was more final and more frightening than stepping off the high dive for the first time.
    As Dan heard the sound of his knock, he froze, realizing he couldn’t just invite himself inside. He needed to think of some excuse for barging in. He decided he could just pretend he was asking for directions. That would work. But where should he ask directions to? What were the street names
around here? Dan wasn’t sure. He would have turned and run had he not been nailed to the ground with panic.
    The door swung open. “Hi,” a kid his own age said.
    Dan felt the silence wrap around him like an endless roll of gauze. It was his turn to speak, but he wasn’t sure if he could manage even the smallest sound. Then the word slipped from his mouth. “Hi.” It seemed small and weak. But it made the next words easier. “I was walking by and saw you guys, and I wondered …” It was easier, but it was still the hardest thing he had ever done.
    The kid smiled, melting some of Dan’s fear. “Come on in. Join the party.”
    Dan stepped inside, amazed, now that the moment was past, that he had actually come this far. There were about a dozen kids in the room, both boys and girls. Most were around his age.
    â€œI’m Shawn,” the boy said.
    Dan introduced himself.
    â€œWell, come join the party,” Shawn said again.
    â€œThanks.” He looked at Shawn, then asked, “Do you go to Thomas Edison?”
    â€œI used to,” Shawn said.
    Dan wondered whether Shawn had switched to one of the private schools. But he didn’t want to be nosy. He struggled to think of something else to say.
    A girl joined them. “This is Cindy,” Shawn said. “And this is Dan.”
    â€œHi, Dan.” Cindy smiled.

    Dan smiled back. He exchanged a