The Airdrie Firefly

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

Answers, sort of

Steven heard the van pull away as he reached the foot of the stairs.

"Stop!" Steven's father boomed.

Steven hesitated, thrown off balance by the severe tone in his dad's voice, but only for a moment. He climbed the stairs, or at least he tried. His father's hand clamped down like a vice on his shoulder and prevented him from going further.

"I said stop!" his father's voice boomed once again. "Go sit on the couch, please," he continued, his voice softening on the last word.

Steven exhaled. After a short pause, he turned and padded into the living room but didn't sit.

His father followed and sat, but didn't say anything.

Steven waited. Then he waited some more. His dad said nothing. He even looked . . . relaxed? Steven felt a strange pressure build up inside him as all his muscles tensed. His breath came quicker, harder. Then he started feeling warmer, even hot, as his rage began to boil over. Finally the pressure reached his head and built there until it had nowhere to go but out. "How could you not tell me!" he bellowed. And he kept bellowing. All the feelings of fear, rage, and betrayal that he'd been bottling up all night poured out of him. Finally, he found himself sitting next to his father resting his head in his hands as hot tears trickled down his cheeks.

Steven's dad put his arm around his son's shoulder. "I'm sorry—we're sorry. We knew the day was coming when we would probably have this talk. Then we got the messages from Talyn and Dr. Tristan. We never wanted you to find out like this. I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steven managed, choked up.

"Well, we didn't know what to tell you. When only one parent is a ghoul, there's only a 50 percent chance the offspring will be a ghoul. Keeping the existence of ghouls a secret is a matter of survival for them, and maybe for you. We couldn't tell you until we had something to tell. It's actually the way it's traditionally handled in mixed families."

Steven felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off him. Finally he was getting some answers, and knowing felt so much better than not knowing. But not nearly as good as ignorance. Out of everything his dad had said, he took particular notice of one word: "them."

"So, Mom is a ghoul?"

His dad nodded.

"And . . . you . . . are . . . ?"

"Not."

"And I'm . . . ?"

"Probably not, but we can't be sure. So far there's nothing to indicate you might be."

"What are some of the indicators?" Steven asked, feeling another wave of relief.

"Well, your mother is really the expert, but I'd say taking a second helping of meatloaf would be a big one."

Steven barked out a spittle-projecting laugh. He quickly stopped, seeing his dad wipe some spittle out of his eye. He started up again when his dad belly laughed in response.

They laughed until their sides hurt, until they had to blow their noses and drink some water just to breath normally again.

Finally, his dad smiled at him and stood up. "Now, you've had a long day. Why don't you get some sleep? We can chat more tomorrow. OK?"