"Okay...Okay. I can do this…"

"Are you sure, Timmy? Be careful."

"Don't worry, Wendy. It's all under control."

He did believe he could do it. He knew. He had gone this far.

Leaving his crutches in Wendy's hands, he started to descend the stairs without using the handrail for support. As Wendy begged him, he was careful, because the stairs were still a challenge to him, he always felt unstable when he had to take them. One step. Two. Three. Great. He could do this. He grew so confident he increased the speed. Four, five, six, seven eight.

"Oh, please!" Wendy was behind him, descending too.

"It's okay." Timmy assured her, smiling at her worry.

He was trotting now, partially because gravity attracted him. Perhaps he was going a bit too fast, but his feet didn't fail him, they moved accordingly, and he found himself at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at Wendy and, letting out a triumphal exclamation, he jumped. Wendy also giggled in relief.

"Oh, Timmy, you're amazing!"

Timmy turned his head to her and watched her with such an expression that it surely made her clarify what she had just said: "What you're doing is amazing. I never thought…"

"I could do this?" Timmy asked.

"No. I think you had it inside of you all this time." Wendy gave him back the crutches. "You simply had to believe it."

"Yeah, probably. Again, thank you for giving me a hand. I'm taking up no more of your time."

"Oh, it was a pleasure! You know you can always count on me if you need help."

"Thanks a lot, you're so sweet."

Wendy smiled. "See you in class, Timmy."

From the very instant Wendy turned her back on him to leave, Timmy's lips started to curve into a smile.

Wendy had never been so nice to him. Perhaps it was the effect of having been shot in the head and staying in a critical condition for over a month. Or his handicap not being an obstacle for socialization anymore. But he surely noticed a subtle change in the way girls treated him, and his full attention was on Wendy, because she was the girl he knew best.

Wendy had joined the Freedom Pals and that was practically the only time the two of them had talked and had some kind of interaction that was not the typical girl versus boys feuds. Why not let her join their group? They were supposed to be an open superhero group: they had the poor guy, the black guy, the homosexual, the handicapped, why not a girl? During their games, Timmy really admired Wendy's intelligence. Sure she could be a know-it-all and take her activism to obnoxious levels, but she was a smart girl. And pretty, too.

Timmy wasn't sure if he liked her or it just felt great to find a girl who didn't seem as dumb and shallow as the others, who would notice he was more than a 'retard', but, anyways, he liked the new attentions she was giving him. He was glad he went through all that shit, and his surprising recovery. Perhaps now Wendy would become more interested in him. Perhaps...Girls liked him now.

He looked at himself in the reflection of the metal locker in front of him. He was standing firmly on his two feet, his fidgeting was long gone, there was a new look in his face, like...sharp, maybe? He sure seemed different. Everybody noticed it, but he hadn't been aware of it until then. It made his little smile widen.

He was a new Timothy Burch.

Why not? Perhaps Wendy would end up liking him as a friend or something more…

He made his way to class, because he calculated recess would be over soon. It felt so great to use crutches just for extra support, because his legs were moving fine—a bit wobbly but fine. He knew he would end up on the couch at home all afternoon after spending all of his energy running around and going up and down all stairs he found. He still didn't regret it. All of his life he had seen the other kids running, walking, jumping, dancing, and wondered what it felt like, to be that free.

(If they kidnapped me and cut me into smithereens everybody would be happy at last...)

"Sorry?" Timmy asked, turning his head.

The only one near him was Thomas, with his back resting against his locker, earphones on, and he looked surprised when Timmy talked to him.

"Uh?" He muttered, removing one earphone.

"Did you just say something?" Timmy asked him.

"No..."

"Ah..." Timmy shook his head and continued his path.

(Oh, fuck, I must look like a psycho...)

Timmy heard that, and supposed the poor guy was actually talking to himself, so he gave him that private moment and said nothing else.

(Well, well, well...Francis' starting to grow titties...)

Timmy frowned and looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

(Look at those little bumps...)

Oh, sure, that was Nathan, there he was. He was drinking orange juice with Mimsy by his side. Mimsy was staring at the wall with the dumb look of a cow, while Nathan's eyes were on Francis, who was arranging her locker near them. The downsie was sipping from the straw with an eyebrow raised. But there was something weird about all of this: Francis was close enough to hear what he had just said about her. Timmy heard it perfectly from a considerable distance—so why didn't she react to it? He knew she was too shy to confront him, but she didn't seem to blush, hearing about her developing bosom. All girls Timmy knew, even those who were not neurotypical, would have reacted to those observations.

Timmy passed by their side, said hello to them, and kept looking at them as he went.

(And this fucker thinks he's special, look at him, showing around like a peacock...)

Timmy stopped and gazed at Nathan completely amazed.

He was drinking. He saw his mouth wasn't moving. He couldn't have said that, but Timmy was sure it was his voice what he had just heard.

What was going on? Was it some kind of ventriloquy trick? It had to be!

He ignored what he had just heard and kept going. His smile had disappeared.

(My dad's gonna kill me...)

Clyde? There he was. He was at the other side of the hallway, but he could hear him perfectly from there.

He was not moving his mouth either, he was looking at the report Mr. Garrison had given him that morning, biting his nails and with an expression of horror. He couldn't be playing tricks too.

"What the..." Timmy muttered to himself.

(I don't know how am I gonna get out of this one...Perhaps if I guilt-trip him mentioning Mom...)

What was happening? Why could he hear what he was saying if he was not moving his mouth?

"Goodbye, sweetie!" A girl behind him said to another.

"See you later, Anna!" The other one, a blonde, replied, and walked away.

The girl was smiling, but then Timmy heard her voice, even though her lips didn't move. (Bitch...)

"Hey, Timmy."

Timmy almost bounced when a hand touched his shoulder. It was Token.

"Oh, sorry." He apologized.

"No, it's...it's okay." Timmy replied.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's just that...I'm dying to go home."

"Oh, yeah, me too. The boys are saying they're gonna sleep during the whole documentary." Token was interrupted by the bell, commanding the students to go back to class. "Let's go."

"Right..."

They both started walking to their classroom.

(I think I'm gonna sleep too...)

Timmy observed Token from the corner of his eye, careful not to be caught. Token was looking forward and didn't notice him doing so. His face didn't show any kind of emotion, his lips didn't move.

(By God, my feet are killing me. I have to ask Clyde about his shoes, they look so comfy...)

When realization hit Timmy, he almost stopped, but forced himself to get moving, and he felt so dizzy he really needed the crutches.

Those were thoughts.

He was hearing what people thought.

"So, do you think we're gonna...Hey, are you okay, buddy?" Token turned his face toward him and frowned a little with concern.

"Huh? ...Yeah. Just...Tired, really." Timmy replied.

"You know you can tell us if you're not alright, don't try to act like you're Superman."

"Sure. Thanks."

Timmy licked his lips, really considering sharing what he had just learned with Token. However, he didn't say a thing in the end.