Fear Is The Mind-Killer

It's not that I didn’t fit in, it’s that there was nowhere for me to fit in.

I was mediocre at sports, never making the team, but good enough to play yard ball at lunch with those who made the team.

I tried out for band and the drama club and almost made the cut.

I hung out with the artists, but could never really draw as good as them.

The only place I fit in was the school library, as nobody was ever there.

Detention was in the library and I wasn’t supposed to be there, at least not by myself.

My friends came up with a plan for all of use to get detention together so we could hang out longer compared to just lunch, and apparently I was the only one who went through with it. 

It was held in the back of the school library, silence was mandatory, and you could either work on homework or read book.

The first book I pulled off the shelf set things in motion and changed my world: Man–Kzin Wars Volume 1. 

Faded, torn, its spine cracked. 

Dozens and dozens of books like it, forgotten lore, read perhaps twenty years ago or more. 

After known space there was other fine myths, which lead me to Dune which I would just continually check out on loop. 

Dune was like a religion, only real.

It was in-between classes, walking in the halls, when somebody passing by me called out.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

Pausing for a few moments I was at a loss of what to say.

That somebody in the school had read Dune, or that it was this guy. A guy dressed in boots, faded black jeans and wearing a heavy metal t-shirt and leather jacket. He even had the long hair thing going. 

Wondering if I head him the first time, he followed up with another quote as he pointed to the book I was holding. 

Turns out we were on the same bus together and just never noticed, our first ride home reading and quoting lines from the book.

D. was new to the school, having transferred in from the city and he knew many if not all of the same science-fiction books that I did, his dad being a science fiction enthusiast.

Maybe I wanted to come over and check out some of his books?

His house was in-between towns, at the corner of a busy street, and it was odd when he let himself in. 

I wondered where his parents were, and was told that they usually came home much later if at all.

We made out way to the attic and it was like stepping into a forbidden zone. 

Shelves and boxes of books crammed everywhere.

Science fiction, graphic novels, and comic books. 

King Conan was also D.’s favorite as he pulled out a series of issues and said I could borrow them for a few days, as long as I promised to come back over and return them. His dad wouldn’t mind as long as I didn’t lose them.

D. a grade ahead of me, which meant that we weren’t in the same classes together or even the same lunch of recess period. The only time we had together to really hang out was on the bus ride home or at his house and what I began to notice was that while he knew a lot of people in school and was good at getting what he wanted, he really didn’t’ seem to have many friends.

That Friday there was a party at one of my friends house and I convinced D. to come along with me and hang out. Maybe if he met some of my friends, they could become his friends also. 

The party was in the basement of a house, a mix of kids from school and from the neighborhood, as I introduced D. to my crew who seemed less receptive than I had anticipated. They asked him what was up with his hair, and he asked them what was up with their face. 

Rather than dancing with girls, I spend the night half hanging out with D. and half with my friends and after only a few hours in D. announced he was blowing the place and left. 

That Monday I got crap from my friends in school for leaving the party early with D. and while they didn’t outright say it, he really wasn’t welcome at any future events. One of my friends didn’t take kindly having D. hit on his sister. 

They asked what I saw in the guy, and why I was hanging out with such a loser as the pointed out the facts.

It was true he didn’t have a girlfriend, but neither did I.

It was true he didn’t travel in the right circles, but neither did I.

It was true that his dress was out of place, but my own dress never really fit in either with the designer clothes of my friends. 

I began to ask myself it that was what they thought of him, what did they think of me?

When I pointed out that he had read hundreds of books, and was actually on the honor roll (true), and was taller and stronger than most of them I could see I starting to cross a line.

Which I fully crossed when I pointed out that not only was he hitting on my friends sister, it worked because she said yes to going out with them.

The only reason I was invited, and the only reason I was allowed to bring D. was because this was aiming to be the biggest party of the year. Nobody really knew who was throwing it, but their parent’s were away for the weekend and the hype was to have it be the legend of all legends. 

We all arrived about an hour in and quickly got lost int crowd of drinking and dancing. Maybe tonight was my night? D. had upgraded my wardrobe by giving me a pair of his black pants and one of his leather jackets to wear and after coaching me on what to say on the approach he let me loose. 

I was just starting to have some success when D. interrupted and said we have to leave. Apparently some of the smoke boys had arrived and now people were openly doing drugs. 

We exited out the back and walked right into an argument with some of my friends.

Three of them were having words with a group of guys across the street and it was getting heated. In the time it took me to figure out what the argument was about the crew from across the street ran at us and all my friends broke and ran leaving me there alone.

A few seconds later the three of them were right up in my face, about to smash me when they suddenly froze in place before backing off. 

Moments later I found out why they suddenly decided to be somewhere else.

D. was apparently still by my side, standing there holding a knife.

Backing away, he grabbed my arm and we quickly headed around the other side of the house.

I tried to speak, asking what happened, but it was hard for me talk..

D. just smiled and with a flourish obviously practiced many times folded the knife and returned it to one of the pockets in his jacket.