enough to see, there is nothing clipped to his shirt. Yet they can hear him as clear as if he is sitting right next to them in the auditorium. The sound is even better than when he spoke at the microphone on stage.
“A trick?” asks Cory, as he slowly walks toward the stage. “No ... magic? It sounds so much better. And better still, an illusion? Now you see me, now you don’t ... the sound of my voice coming from nowhere ... everywhere. But you believe just the same, don’t you? Because you see it with your own eyes, hear it with your own ears. Toddlers learn to walk, and later as small children ride bicycles, mainly because they believe. They believe because they have proof, provided by examples: people all around them walking and riding bicycles. Conversely, as they get older they learn limitations: what they can’t do ... not based on their potential abilities, but another’s lack of expectations and/or belief system. So, it really boils down to what we believe then. Doesn’t it? The greatest Master taught us, what things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them .”
As he approaches the front of the stage, he lifts his hand and dramatic music begins to play. As he lowers his hand, a large screen slowly comes down from the ceiling over the stage. The screen seems to move as if it is controlled directly by the movements of Cory’s hand. It doesn’t appear to be supported or suspended by anything other than the air itself, and its appearance elicits gasps and murmurs from the audience once more.
“You have to excuse the theatrics please, but I just love the roar of the crowd, the smell of the greasepaint, and I have a flair for the dramatic,” says Cory.
Once the screen is in place, he then faces the audience, raises his hands again, and asks, “Do you believe?” He snaps both his fingers, and the lights go out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE VOICE
Present Day …
“What about the voices? Did you hear any during your encounter?” asked Dr. Gwen.
Naz smiled hesitantly as he shifted in his seat.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be prescribing any medication today,” she assured him.
“I did, but not just during the fight, I heard ’em again at school too.”
Dr. Gwen suddenly came alive. She sat up in her chair. For the first time in a long time she was genuinely excited, and it confused Naz. “Don’t misunderstand my enthusiasm, Naz. I don’t mean to sound excited that you’ve heard voices again, but understand that if we are to address and hopefully solve these so-called ‘problems’ that you have, then we need specific examples of what they are, and today it seems we have them.”
“OK,” Naz reluctantly agreed.
“Do you remember what the voices were saying?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’m listening.”
“The voice said, ‘He’s mad. He’s scared,’ and ‘He doesn’t understand us.’ It said, ‘You can’t fight,’ and ‘You better not run.’ It said, ‘ U…U…Únete a nosotros …’”
“Únete a nosotros? The voice said úneta a nosotros?”
“Well, the voice didn’t say that, but one of the boys did. Do you know what it means?”
“It’s Spanish for ‘Join us,’ Naz, now stay focused. What else did the voices say?”
“Sorry, Doc. It kept saying, ‘You’re gonna die, oh my God,’ and ‘blood.’ And then it seemed to repeat after me, ‘Somebody call an ambulance.’”
By now Dr. Gwen had put on her glasses and was writing feverishly in her notebook. When he saw her with the glasses, Naz was distracted, and his thoughts drifted immediately to the drinking fountain and the mysterious girl.
“Naz!” she said, bringing him back to reality. “What about the second time at school? Tell me about those.”
Naz paused and then smiled shyly. There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Was it a girl, Naz?”
How embarrassing , thought Naz. How could she know that?
“ If you’re wondering how I knew, it’s