This is Shyness by Leanne Hall Read Free Book Online Page A

of nowhere my heart thumps like it’s trying to break out of my chest. Time to test the card. I don’t know if I’m feeling sick or excited.
    â€˜A good choice,’ Sebastien says dourly as I hand him the pink ukulele.
    â€˜And this as well.’ Wolfboy holds up a guitar strap. I didn’t see him pick it up.
    â€˜Sixty-five dollars, please.’
    I rub the card between my fingers for good luck, and hand it to Sebastien, who swipes it straight through his machine, moving with bored efficiency.
    Nothing happens. I hold my breath. I glance at Wolfboy and he is calm. His eyes, navy in this light, hold mine a moment longer than necessary and our secret passes between us.
    The machine chirps and spits out a receipt.
    Sebastien hands me a pen and I sign the slip of paper with a nervous hand. The card works. Part of me expected it to be a fake.
    â€˜Thanks, man.’ Wolfboy hands me the ukulele and salutes Sebastien, who inclines his head a few degrees and returns immediately to his book.
    My feet take me out the first door and down the corridor. I’m shaking all over. I know what I’m going to do with the card. I push on the outer door in a daze, barely registering the cold air rushing in to meet me. Tomorrow I’ll go to a travel agent and buy myself a plane ticket, somewhere, anywhere. I won’t have to go to school on Monday. I won’t have to go back ever again. The card is my way out of the mess I’m in.
    The parking lot is still deserted. Wolfboy takes the ukulele out of my hands and fixes the strap to it. He’s got those blunt fingertips that boys have, but his hands are nimble. He pulls the strap over my head and under one arm so that the ukulele hangs against my back. I stand still and don’t breathe. Everything is going to be different from now on.
    â€˜We’ve got a name for people like Sebastien.’ His hand lingers on my shoulder, straightening out the strap. He didn’t exactly leap on me after I asked if he had a girlfriend. Doesn’t he know what that question means?
    â€˜Yeah?’
    â€˜We call them “mushrooms” because they do well in the dark. Some people have made whole businesses out of the Darkness.’
    â€˜Like Ortolan?’
    His hand drops off my shoulder. Damn. I shouldn’t have mentioned her name.
    â€˜I guess. I’ve never thought of it like that, but yeah.’ He pats me on the arm. A friendly pat. ‘Let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?’

eight
    Saturnalia Avenue is dead as usual. The sight of Orphanville at the end of the street is enough to keep most people away. The trees lining the avenue are nothing more than dead wood in the ground. Every few weeks or so a branch breaks and crashes to the footpath, taking out anything or anyone in its way.
    The dark is thick in this part of Shyness. The street is concrete, not tarmac, and is shot through with hundreds of cracks and potholes. No one bothers to fix roads anymore, or traffic lights or street signs. My body pushes against the Darkness, as if I’m wading through deep water. Even Wildgirl is silent.
    Mostly Dreamers live around here. They’re not scared eight to live near Orphanville; the Kidds have no business with them. The Dreamer houses are paper cutouts, with balconies and lace and decorated roofs. Push the midnight silhouettes and they’d all fall over.
    Thom and I broke in to a Dreamer house once. We found a broken window and laid our shirts over the jagged glass so we could climb through. We walked around the entire house without saying a word. There was no furniture, or light fittings, or mirrors, or carpets. Only bare floorboards and cobwebs, a wooden staircase leading upstairs, and dust everywhere. There was a bed on the first floor, in one of the smallest rooms. A couple of sofa cushions covered in twisted sheets as if the occupant had left in a hurry.
    I have only one reason to come to this part of town, and