The Psychozone by David Lubar Page B

few words with Cindy. She introduced Dan to a few more kids. Each new face was easier to meet. After a while, Dan began to feel comfortable at the party. He found two boys who liked swimming as much as he did. And he learned that he and Cindy had the same favorite authors.
    As Dan stood in the corner of the room, talking with several of the kids, his eyes drifted back toward Shawn. The boy, as if feeling the gaze, came over toward Dan.
    â€œIt’s bothering you, isn’t it,” Shawn said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCome on, I know you’re trying to think where you’ve seen me. Right?”
    â€œRight,” Dan admitted. “Do I know you?”
    â€œThink back a few years.”
    Dan looked at Shawn and tried to picture him as he might have been a few years ago. Then he shook his head. “Nope, I guess it’s my imagination.” Then a thought hit him. “Wait, do you have an older brother?”
    Shawn shook his head. “No. I’m an only child. But now you’re on the right track.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Dan asked.
    â€œWhat if you were younger, but I wasn’t?”
    â€œThat doesn’t make any sense,” Dan said. But as the words left his lips, he realized that it did. He stared at Shawn and the name and the face and the memory slammed into him. He stumbled back, sitting hard on the couch, remembering a kid who was two years older. “Shawn Jepson. The kid who …” He stopped.

    It couldn’t be.
    Shawn nodded. “Yup, the kid who fell through the ice back when you were in fourth grade. I was in sixth. Mr. Martin’s class.”
    Dan remembered that sad winter, with the funeral, though the memory was smudged by the passage of time. Shawn had been two years older than Dan. Now he looked the same age. “You died,” Dan said.
    Shawn shrugged. “Yeah, that’s me. And you might remember Ricky over there.” He pointed to another kid. “Climbed one of those power towers and got zapped. Cindy had a heart problem. She was a year ahead of you, and she wasn’t in school very much, so you probably don’t remember her. I don’t think you knew any of the others.”
    â€œYou’re all dead?” Numbed as he was, Dan rose from the couch.
    â€œYup.” Shawn grinned. “That’s life.”
    Dan closed his eyes for a moment, remembering a car that had come so close to hitting him. “Am I dead, too?”
    Shawn laughed. Then he shook his head. “No, you’re alive.”
    â€œThen how. . ?” He let the sentence dangle unfinished, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. How could he see them? Why was he here?
    â€œWe just felt sorry for you,” Shawn said.
    Dan opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t want pity. Another conversation rose from his mind. “Dan seems pretty happy by himself,” his mother had told a neighbor just last week.
    Dan gazed at the rest of the kids. They smiled
at him. Cindy winked. Dan stared at his own hands, as if he might disprove his existence by seeing through his flesh. Both hands were solid. “I’m not dead?”
    â€œNo.” Shawn put his hand on Dan’s shoulder and led him to the door. “You’re alive. But the way you’re living, it’s hard to tell. Look, it’s pretty pathetic when dead kids like us feel sorry for someone.” He opened the door.
    Dan stared outside, not sure he wanted to leave.
    â€œGo on,” Shawn said. “You’ve got a lot of living to do. Better get started.”
    Dan moved onto the porch. “Thanks.”
    â€œMy pleasure.”
    Dan started to walk down the steps. Behind him, as the door was closing, he heard Shawn say, “Go out there and knock’em dead, kid.”
    There was a soft click as the door closed. The sound of party music faded. Dan walked away. He wanted to see them once more before he left, but he didn’t look back. He knew his