Adam shuddered when he uttered the tarantula’s name, but Wes was touched. If Gus brought Bettie in to school and talked about why she was interested in her, she could convince a whole classroom of kids that tarantulas were lovely, fascinating creatures, and nothing to be afraid of.
“So,” Adam said, “I need you to talk her out of it.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, just tell her Bettie doesn’t like to ride in cars or something, maybe. Whatever you want. I can bring her by, or you could pop over. Whatever’s easiest for you. I’m really sorry.”
He ran a hand through his silky dark blond hair, and it settled in a messy fall around his face.
“It’s just, when Gus gets fixated on something, it’s nearly impossible to get her off it. You really have to replace it with another fixation instead.” He seemed to be half talking to himself. “Anyway, I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but can you?”
“Can I talk her out of it?”
“Yeah.”
“Or she could just take Bettie to school,” Wes offered.
He had Adam’s full attention now.
“Oh, no. No, no, that’s not necessary. Nope. No worries.”
Adam swallowed hard when he was scared, and his eyes darted around.
Wes couldn’t believe what he was about to offer. But with each passing day he thought about Adam Mills more.
“I could go. With her. If she wants.”
Adam blinked up at him. His eyes were a bluish-grayish color that reminded Wes of the Pacific Ocean on smoggy days.
“Can you do that?” He immediately flushed. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean. Um.”
There was a childish wonder to Adam that delighted Wes. He imagined it was probably where Gus got her own sense of wonder and curiosity, even if hers was for different topics.
“Will the sun burn me to a crisp, you mean?”
Adam laughed nervously, but he bit his lip and looked up at Wes like he really would like to know the answer.
Wes leaned closer. Usually, Adam was energy in motion—one eye on Gus, the other on the ground in front of him to make sure he didn’t trip.
But now Wes had his full attention. He looked into Adam’s stormy eyes and took in the way his pupils dilated and his lashes swept downward. The way his mouth softened and parted slightly.
And he said, very seriously, “I’m willing to chance it.”
Adam snorted and then looked sheepish.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m not a vampire,” Wes said mildly. Then, in his best Bela Lugosi voice, “I am a daywalker.”
Adam’s eyes got wide and Wes relented.
“Do you believe in vampires?” he asked.
“No!” Adam said very quickly. Too quickly. “Not really.” He scuffed the stoop with the toe of his worn sneaker. “I don’t know. It’s just as possible as anything else, isn’t it? No, no, never mind. Forget I said that.”
He rolled his eyes at himself.
Wes thought about it. Adam’s statement seemed absurd on the face of it, yes. But Wes hadn’t gotten where he was today by dismissing ideas without thinking about them just because they sounded impossible.
“Leeches and lampreys feed on blood. So do some bats. Mosquitoes and fleas do too, and bedbugs. The oxpecker is a bird that eats bugs off oxen, then drinks blood from the wounds they created. Oh, and there’s a finch that lives in the Galápagos that drinks blood from the booby bird. So, the blood-drinking part isn’t unreasonable. It’s really the immortality that’s the sticking point. And the transforming others into a different creature through their bite. But I suppose those things could just be part of the mythos, not the biology.”
Adam was watching him with a strange look. Usually, Wes hated being looked at. But Adam’s attention didn’t make him squirm.
“You’re very open-minded,” Adam said.
Wes shrugged. “It’s just science.”
Adam regarded him in silence, like he’d forgotten why he’d come.
“So, show-and-tell,” Wes prompted. “When is it?”
“Huh? Oh, Friday. We leave at 8:30.”
“In the morning,” Wes said.
“Yeah.”
Adam just looked at him. Wes had been trying to make a joke, but it had fallen flat.
“Okay,” he said, and moved to shut the door, embarrassed.
“Thank you!” Adam called.
Wes watched him walk across the street, arms wrapped around himself against the cold.
He watched him and wondered what Adam would think if he knew Wes had just offered to leave Knockbridge Lane in the daylight for the first time in four years.
* * *
Early Friday morning, the ancient alarm clock that Wes had found in the basement and plugged in for the first time jerked him awake with violent beeps.
Banana chirped with displeasure at the unusual interruption, shoved her face under the blanket, and curled back up with Janice, looking more like a grouchy cat than a raccoon.
Wes wished he could curl back up with them. His nocturnal schedule was usually aligned with the raccoons’, but today Wes dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten up before 2:00 p.m.