Chapter 10

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"Someone wants to see you," Sherri told Dane who was playing on his phone.

Dane slipped his phone into his pocket and walked with his teacher to the corridor where the man he knew by the name of Frank had waited for him. "Mr. Astor, I wasn't expecting you," he said. His tone bore both boredom and curiosity at the same time.

"Just call me Frank. Elaine called me."

"I told her not to."

"It's okay, son. I'm not busy." The man who wore a brown hat and coat held Dane's hand and proceeded to walk him through the corridor. "Ms. Gaylor, do you mind?"

Dane turned to his teacher who just smiled and then nodded at him. He walked with the stranger, occasionally attempting to read him but could not. "Where are we going?" He didn't hear a response, but he felt a little less cynical after seeing where he thought he would take him, the playground. Queerly enough, there was no one around. "What are we doing here?"

"We're going to talk." The man with an imposing stature grinned and then sat on one of the swings. He looked away. "I loved swings as a kid. Made me feel free." He kicked his foot on the damp grass.

Dane watched him as he swung to and fro. "Aren't you too old to ride on a swing?" He scowled at the man who kept his smile, revealing those yellowish teeth.

"Can't old folks ride on a swing?"

"Sure, they can." He slowly sat on the other swing and watched Frank, who looked carefree. He kept his feet on the ground, wasn't interested in moving the swing, but he held the steel chains firmly despite the cold biting his skin. "What did mom say?" He saw the other swing move slower until Frank brought it to a halt.

"She's concerned about you." Frank eyed him.

"I know. But, Mr. Astor..." He saw Frank frown a bit. "Um, Frank, how can you help me?"

Frank looked away and sighed. He sniffed as if to take in as much crisp air as he could in one breath and pursed his lips. "Our gifts come with a price. When I was a kid, the voices here" -- he tapped his fingers on his temple -- "troubled me. Sometimes they were unbearably loud, I would freak out."

"Did someone help you?" Dane turned to Frank, who shook his head.

"No one understood what I was going through. I had to go through hell alone." He smiled.

"How did you make the voices stop?"

"I didn't."

Dane scowled.

"I just let the chatter in my head until I got used to it. You'll get used to it, Dane, when you stop resisting it. Just let them be."

Dane thought about what the man said. He wasn't sure if he gave the right advice. "I thought you were going to say something useful."

"Playing and keeping yourself busy helps."

"Thanks, Frank." He tried reading Frank's thoughts but couldn't. He sees nothing but a brick wall. "Why can't I read your mind?"

Frank chuckled. "Maybe my advice is working."

"But I haven't done anything you advised yet." His dubiousness creased the space between his eyebrows.

"You will soon enough."

* * *

Dane went back to their room to wait for his mom after Frank left. Sherri came in and appeared surprised to see him.

"I thought you left already," she said.

"I couldn't go with Frank. I don't trust him." He saw her pause for a moment.

"Who's Frank?"

"The old man you said was looking for me."

"What old man?" Sherri moved closer and appeared inquisitive.

Dane brought his brows closer to each other. "You don't know?" For a moment he wanted to read her. He was at the doorstep of her mind, but he stopped himself. He saw her smile at him.

"Are you hungry?"

Dane shook his head and resumed to his previous silent demeanor lest he attracted curious, skeptical gazes from Sherri. Deep inside he knew something wasn't right. He was less convinced he could trust Frank, an enigma he couldn't decipher.

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