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I'd let you know anyway. And fast," I added. His eyes widened.

"Where are you getting these wacky ideas?"

"They're not wacky," he shot back.

"If you ask me," I continued, "your mother is

driving you crazy. You already told me she

deliberately finds ways to keep you at home. Wait a

minute," I said, realizing something, "is that why I

hadn't seen you for days? Because you told her you

kissed me?"

He looked away quickly.

"That's sick, Duncan. You're old enough to

know what you should and shouldn't do, and so am I.

We're not children anymore. She shouldn't treat you

like one."

"She doesn't treat me like a child."

"Really?"

"She doesn't mean to be mean to me. She's

afraid."

"Why? I just don't understand it. Why is she so

afraid for you? Have you done something terrible?" I

asked.

"No. Not yet."

"Not yet?" I nearly laughed aloud. "Why do

you say that? Do you think you definitely will?" "What, Duncan? What are you?"

"I'm a child of sin," he said.

He looked down quickly. I stood there a

moment, and then I walked to my bed and sat. "A child of sin?"

"Yes. It's why you were drawn to me and why I

was drawn to you and still am," he continued, as if he

had made an incredible discovery. "We're the same.