As I turned the corner, I knocked into someone. He didn't fall, nor seem hurt.
"Oh my gosh!" the boy said. "Are you okay?"
The voices vanished.
"Yes. I'm fine. Are you?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Did you drop anything?" He inquired, noting the searching look on my face.
"No," I muttered. "I'm trying to listen to the voices." I didn't care if this kid thought I was a freak. I just wanted to hear the voices, to listen to them speak to me.
"What voices?" he said, confused. I sighed. I might as well just tell him about the things I heard.
"I hear voices. Things talk in my ears. I like listening to them. Whenever I bump into something, they usually disappear. I don't care if you think I'm a freak, because I just met you, I already hate my mom for saying the voices aren't real, and enough people already hate me because of it. So I don't give a damn what you think about it." I didn't care if he was offended by it. I just wanted the voices.
"You're not a freak," he said. "I hear them too. Listen... they're coming back."
He was right. They started whispering again.
"Don't listen...." they hissed. "The price of coffee appears to have gone up peanuts, according to the graphic data of scientists," a new voice said.
The boy repeated exactly what they were saying, as proof he heard them too.
"We both hear the voices," I whispered once I was convinced. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," he said. "But it means something. I can feel it."
So could I. Some kind of adventure, some sort of journey, would be gone on with this skinny, pale, freckled kid. It would be led by the voices.
I couldn't wait.