The Night House by Rachel Tafoya Page B

me. “Well, if you’ll just follow me into this shady alley, there’s an unmarked white van waiting for us.”
    “Are you at least going to give me candy first? Maybe a bike?”
    He’s trying not to smile, but it shows through. The mop of brown hair just reaches his eyes. He’s a head taller than me. I’m trying not to let him make me feel small. It’s how sure of himself he seems. Like, maybe this isn’t totally crazy.
    “Do you have a favorite place to eat?” he asks.
    I let out my breath slowly. “Let’s just go to the South Street Diner.”
    “Really?” He sounds amused. “Out of all the places you could go, you pick the South Street Diner?”
    “It’s good.” It’s also cheap, and I feel horrible making him pay for me.
    This is the strangest situation I’ve ever been in. I keep expecting something totally random to happen. I’ll notice that the sky is green and everything’s upside down and this is just a hallucination. But nothing changes. Everything is normal, and that’s the strangest thing of all. We’re just two kids walking down the street.
    “Where do you live?” I ask in a rush. I’m trying not to look at him, but I can’t help myself. I think I might be glad that he came back. Maybe.
    “Over in Society Hill.”
    “Wow, now I don’t feel so bad making you pay.” I cross my arms. “You like it over there in Society Hill?”
    He shrugs, hailing a cab. “It’s better than a lot of other places I’ve been. Where do you live?”
    I’m not interested in giving a stranger the address to the Night House, so I ignore his question. “Who was that just now? The guy with you?” I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about him. “Come on,” I say. I feel the pull of withdrawal getting stronger. “You think I’m going to find him? Throw up on him too?”
    He laughs as we get into the cab. “He’s my best friend.”
    “He mad at you for ditching him?”
    “No…he knows what’s up.”
    We reach the diner quickly, and he pays before I can even pretend I have money for the cab. The noise of car horns is exchanged for quiet chatter and clinking silverware. The smells go from chemicals to coffee. A waitress seats us by the window and I stare outside, wondering where this is going.
    He still hasn’t said anything about vampires. What is he waiting for?
    He is scanning over the menu with purpose. I am trying to scan him. To figure out what the hell this is all about. I’m sick of waiting.
    “You’re not a mind reader,” I say after a minute. “You’d have given that away by now.”
    His mouth falls open.
    “Maybe you can see the future,” I try, putting my chin on my hand. “That might explain why you don’t know who I am, but you knew where to find me. But that would probably also mean that something bad is going to happen to me, because why else would you find me?”
    “I don’t…know what to say.”
    He is taking this way too seriously.
    “Just tell me what’s going on.” I plead, tired of the game. “I’m exhausted, and hungry, and I don’t have a lot of patience.”
    “It’s been a couple of years since I had to explain it to someone.”
    My feet are tapping on the ground, and I can feel myself slipping out of control. “Are you working for vampires? Or are you a hunter? Which is it?”
    The look that crosses his face makes me want to crawl in a hole. He’s all “social services” when he tries to disguise his shock. He thinks I’m crazy. I shouldn’t have said it.
    “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He meets my gaze with a sad resolution.
    My gaze stays glued to the table. I’m not going to keep messing this up by opening my stupid mouth. I pull my bag closer to me, getting ready for this to end very quickly.
    The waitress appears, pen in hand. “How you guys doing?”
    “Good, thanks,” he says in that special tone of voice reserved for waitresses. “I’ll have a bagel with egg and cheese.”
    “Anything to drink?”
    “A glass of orange