then," he said. He scooped up some more salsa with a chip. "I'm sure you'll figure out how to handle it. Maybe you two are just...I don't know, growing as people or something."
I laughed a little at the cliché. But maybe he was right. For someone who claimed never to have been in a relationship, Jason seemed to have some insight into relationships.
"You're a good guy, Jason," I said. "So, how come you've never had a girlfriend?"
Jason didn't answer for a minute. He looked a little surprised at the change of topic.
"Well, for one thing, I guess I was just never really around girls."
"Because you were home schooled," I said.
"Yeah, kind of," he said.
"So you mostly just saw your family?" I asked, even though I knew both of Jason's parents were dead.
"Not my family, exactly. A man named Anton raised me. He was kind of like a father to me. And a teacher."
Jason was opening up. Neat. Curious, I pressed my advantage. "So he's the one who taught you all the stuff you know?"
"Yeah."
"So, why'd you run away from him?"
"I didn't. He died."
Oh. "I'm sorry," I said. Damn it, that was right! Jason had said something about that before. Why was I such an idiot? He'd probably just clam up now.
But Jason kept talking. "Anton knew a lot of things, and he taught me all about them.
But he really didn't know much about...women. Or relationships or any of that."
I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I said again.
"After he died, that's when I took off," said Jason. "And once I was on the run, I couldn't hang out with girls either."
"Is that why you ran? Because of Anton?"
"I can't talk about it," said Jason.
Damn it.
But then he continued. "I watched him die. He died in my arms."
Oh my God. That was horrible. I couldn't say I was sorry again, so I didn't speak.
Jason had a faraway look in his eyes. "They thought they could contain me after that, but they forgot that they trained me, and I know all their secrets."
"Who?" I asked. I couldn't help it.
Jason took a chip out of the bag and stared at it. He took a deep breath. I waited, anxious to know something, anything, more about him.
And there was a knock on the front door.
Augh. I couldn't believe we'd been interrupted just when Jason was on the brink of revealing something. Besides, who could be knocking on the door after eight o'clock on a Monday? "I wonder who that is," I said.
"It's probably Toby," said Jason.
"At the front door?" I said. Toby knew we almost always used the door in the kitchen.
Why would he come to the front door?
Jason looked alarmed. "Doesn't anyone you know use the front door?"
"Not really," I said. "Maybe it's a salesman."
"At this time of night?" Jason said. "Maybe we should just get out of here."
The knock came again, a little more insistent.
"And go where?" I asked. "Why?"
Jason swallowed. His eyes darted around the room, looking for danger or an exit or whatever it was he looked for when he was scared. I hadn't seen him do that in a while.
"You're paranoid," I told him. "I'll get rid of whoever it is." I got up and started for the living room.
"Azazel, wait!" said Jason. "You don't know who that could be."
But I was already crossing the living room to the front door. I swung it open. On the other side was a young man. He looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. His hair was short cropped against his head. He wore an expensive-looking jacket. His smile was warm and unassuming.
"Hello?" I said.
"Sorry to bother you this late," he said, smiling. He had a British accent.
"Can I help you?" I asked, feeling suspicious of the man.
The man shrugged. "Well, maybe. I hope so." He rubbed his hands together briskly.
"It's a little bit cold out here. Would you mind if I came in for a moment?"
"Uh..." I didn't want him to come in. "I'm here alone," I said.
"Really?" he said. "I thought I heard voices."
"It was the television," I said.
"Don't hear it now," he said. His voice sounded
I laughed a little at the cliché. But maybe he was right. For someone who claimed never to have been in a relationship, Jason seemed to have some insight into relationships.
"You're a good guy, Jason," I said. "So, how come you've never had a girlfriend?"
Jason didn't answer for a minute. He looked a little surprised at the change of topic.
"Well, for one thing, I guess I was just never really around girls."
"Because you were home schooled," I said.
"Yeah, kind of," he said.
"So you mostly just saw your family?" I asked, even though I knew both of Jason's parents were dead.
"Not my family, exactly. A man named Anton raised me. He was kind of like a father to me. And a teacher."
Jason was opening up. Neat. Curious, I pressed my advantage. "So he's the one who taught you all the stuff you know?"
"Yeah."
"So, why'd you run away from him?"
"I didn't. He died."
Oh. "I'm sorry," I said. Damn it, that was right! Jason had said something about that before. Why was I such an idiot? He'd probably just clam up now.
But Jason kept talking. "Anton knew a lot of things, and he taught me all about them.
But he really didn't know much about...women. Or relationships or any of that."
I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I said again.
"After he died, that's when I took off," said Jason. "And once I was on the run, I couldn't hang out with girls either."
"Is that why you ran? Because of Anton?"
"I can't talk about it," said Jason.
Damn it.
But then he continued. "I watched him die. He died in my arms."
Oh my God. That was horrible. I couldn't say I was sorry again, so I didn't speak.
Jason had a faraway look in his eyes. "They thought they could contain me after that, but they forgot that they trained me, and I know all their secrets."
"Who?" I asked. I couldn't help it.
Jason took a chip out of the bag and stared at it. He took a deep breath. I waited, anxious to know something, anything, more about him.
And there was a knock on the front door.
Augh. I couldn't believe we'd been interrupted just when Jason was on the brink of revealing something. Besides, who could be knocking on the door after eight o'clock on a Monday? "I wonder who that is," I said.
"It's probably Toby," said Jason.
"At the front door?" I said. Toby knew we almost always used the door in the kitchen.
Why would he come to the front door?
Jason looked alarmed. "Doesn't anyone you know use the front door?"
"Not really," I said. "Maybe it's a salesman."
"At this time of night?" Jason said. "Maybe we should just get out of here."
The knock came again, a little more insistent.
"And go where?" I asked. "Why?"
Jason swallowed. His eyes darted around the room, looking for danger or an exit or whatever it was he looked for when he was scared. I hadn't seen him do that in a while.
"You're paranoid," I told him. "I'll get rid of whoever it is." I got up and started for the living room.
"Azazel, wait!" said Jason. "You don't know who that could be."
But I was already crossing the living room to the front door. I swung it open. On the other side was a young man. He looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. His hair was short cropped against his head. He wore an expensive-looking jacket. His smile was warm and unassuming.
"Hello?" I said.
"Sorry to bother you this late," he said, smiling. He had a British accent.
"Can I help you?" I asked, feeling suspicious of the man.
The man shrugged. "Well, maybe. I hope so." He rubbed his hands together briskly.
"It's a little bit cold out here. Would you mind if I came in for a moment?"
"Uh..." I didn't want him to come in. "I'm here alone," I said.
"Really?" he said. "I thought I heard voices."
"It was the television," I said.
"Don't hear it now," he said. His voice sounded
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