VOICES IN JUNE

Three quick facts about me; my name is June, I am 17 years old and I don't like crowded places. Not because of a phobia but because it increases the chances of the voices in my head. Even now seated in class, I hear one or two which I won't bother you with. You see, the truth is, I can read minds. I know what you're thinking; I'm crazy, no pun intended. What I don't know is why I can. It started on my 13th birthday. I wish I could tell you I got struck by lightning, bitten by something or some other cool story that could offer some explanation but the truth is I literally woke up with the ability to read minds though I didn't figure out what was going on immediately but fortunately, I was able to figure it out before landing myself in a shrinks' office and for the past four years, it's been a struggle, learning how to manage this cruel gift placed on me.

Okay, let me try to explain how it works to you, it's not like I can hear every single thought that goes on in every single persons head. Sometimes it's random and they have to be fairly close to me, other times it happens whenever I engage in any form of body contact with them. This is why I'm known as the weird loner even back at home. Other than you, the only person who knows is my best friend Jessie who thought I was crazy until I proved it to her. Of course she freaked out for a second then thought it was cool. It didn't take her long to start coming up with theories like "maybe you have magic in your ancestry" or "try to move this cup of water with your mind" and then "what if you're the last remnant of an ancient kingdom and your parents had to hide you here to protect you?". Unfortunately (for me) she was adopted from the foster home. That was four years ago.

The final bell rings interrupting my thoughts and minutes later, I'm on the 10 minute walk home. I know many may consider this a gift but take it from me, of all the dark, crazy places you don't want to be, the human mind should be one of them. Sure it's not all bleak; I've heard cute thoughts and everyday average thoughts. If I'm lucky, I even get to hear beautiful thoughts.

"Welcome honey. How was school today?" My foster mum Mrs Reynolds asks me as soon as I step into the house. As usual she is baking something.

"Fine ma'am"

"Lunch is ready. After, you can take a shower so we'll go shopping"

Ugh. That's right, Prom is just few weeks away. I already said I was not going but she was not having any of that and history has proven that there's no arguing with her when she has her mind on something.

"Sure" I say walking to my room.

"Good. Cause I won't let you miss prom just because you don't like some of your mates"

"I don't like any of them" I answer.

"Any of what?" I turn back and look at her, she looks back at me. Oops, that must have been a thought. Note to self: probably don't reply if you're not looking directly at them.

"June, I'm sure you'll see a dress you like at the mall" she concludes. I just nod and walk away grateful for the out.

About an hour later, we're at the mall. There's a bit of a crowd then I hear it loud and clear

"Weaklings...all of them. Hiding under a mask of nice and normal" I ignore it knowing it's just one of those moments and try to concentrate as Mrs Reynolds analyses the dresses on the hanger while I give the polite "mmhmm" and "yeah" every now and then.

"What's that woman doing with an Asian kid anyway?" Okay, that one definitely gets my attention because Mrs. Reynolds and I are the only pair that fits the description. I'm preparing to shrug it off again until....

"Okay. Who do I shoot first? The Asian, the security guard, the blonde kid...." I don't hear the rest cause my mind is whirling. I find myself looking for the owner of the voice and I find him in seconds. His hand is going into his jacket, oh no. Before I know what I'm doing, I charge at him, we fall to the ground, gunshot resounds in the air, followed by pain, screams, my name, darkness.

Pain. That is my first conscious thought. I open my eyes to see a nurse and my foster parents.

"She's awake" Mrs. Reynolds holds my hands with tears in her eyes.

"Hello June. How are you feeling?" The nurse asks. She has kind eyes.

"Fi...fine" she nods. "I'll give you all a minute" she says before walking out.

"Do you remember what happened? You were so brave....I thought...." Mrs. Reynolds is crying now, her hands all over my face. I remember the mall, the guy in the red jacket, the gunshot and the pain which seems concentrated in my left side.

"Honey it's okay" Mr. Reynolds comforts his wife. "You did good kid". He says patting my shoulder. Something strikes me as I look at my hands once again in Mrs. Reynolds own. I can't hear a single thought.

The next couple of hours fly by in a dazed blur. Two police officers come to my hospital room, the shooter identified as Mr. Frank, a divorcee with a history of domestic violence was in custody, nobody else was hurt and everyone thought I was a hero. Matter of fact, I made it to the news and days later when I finally walk into the school halls, I'm greeted with an applause.

I've discovered that I like firm handshakes and warm hugs now that I can enjoy them without being in someone's head. I miss my gift though which is weird considering I've spent all these years resenting it but if not for it, I along with a bunch of people would probably be dead. Maybe it will come back, maybe it won't, maybe it has served it's purpose, maybe I really got it from my mother but in any case, for as long as it lasts, I'll sit back and enjoy the sweet sound of silence.