She nodded. "But you don't like me to talk about them."

"Because they don't exist." She reached out and gently cupped Megan's cheeks in her two hands. "And you mustn't talk about things that don't exist. When you were younger, it wasn't as bad. But you're fifteen now and people pay more attention. We have to keep this between ourselves, baby."

"Or they'll think I'm nuts." Megan tried to smile. "And this can't be normal. Maybe I am nuts. Am I, Mama?"

"Of course not." She leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Megan's nose. "Who sets the rules? Who can really say what's normal? I've heard that some composers hear the music in their minds and everyone calls them a genius. You'll probably grow out of this."

"You said that when I was seven."

"And you don't hear them near as often now. Right?" Right.

"And you said they don't scream, they whisper?"

Megan nodded.

"See?" Her eyes were twinkling. "Progress. And by the time you reach your twenty-first birthday, they'll be gone entirely."

Megan frowned and said tentatively. "Maybe… I should see someone."

"No," her mother said sharply. "No doctors. We keep this just between us. Understand?"

Megan nodded but she didn't understand. She had never understood anything except that it made her mother unhappy for Megan to talk about the voices. Maybe she didn't want to admit even to herself that Megan wasn't… normal. Okay, let it go. It could be her mother's simple solution to her problem was correct. The last thing she wanted to do was make her mother unhappy.

"Stop frowning." Her mother's finger traced the two creases on Megan's forehead. "You'll get wrinkles like me."