I step into the kitchen, ready for this morning’s Maternal Inquisition. Mom sits at our scratched Formica table, sipping her coffee. She eyes me carefully. “Did you have another dream?” The Inquisition beginneth.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I almost say no. This whole ‘journey of discovery’ has been a bit of a bust. Taking a deep breath, I slide into the chair across from her. “I think I saw my father in a dreamscape last night.” I nervously drum my fingers on the tabletop. “Is he a ghoul named Tim-29?”

Her face is a cool mask. “Yes, that’s him.”

I cross my fingers. “You’re lying.”

“Never. Tim-29 is your father.”

Mom’s words hit me like a punch to the gut. It’s one thing to suspect your dad’s a ghoul, it’s another, much nastier thing for your Mom to confirm it. I shake my head from side to side. “That can’t be right.”

She purses her lips. “It was a one-night thing. A woman has needs.”

Okay, that’s downright disgusting. “Way too much information, Mom!”

“You seemed to be having a hard time understanding. I wanted to give you a little context.”

I drum my fingers on the tabletop. Something about this doesn’t add up. “I don’t know.”

Mom looks directly into my eyes, her gaze steely and firm. “Have I ever lied to you, Myla?”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. “No.”

“Tim is your father. I realize it’s unconventional. That’s why I kept it from you for so long.”

I twist my lips into a yuck-face. “I still can’t believe you got busy with a ghoul.”

“Attraction comes in many forms. Take Walker, for instance. His grandmother was an archangel.”

I groan. More disgustingness. “You do realize I haven’t eaten.”

“Come on, now. Be open-minded. This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s nothing to get mopey about.”

I frown. “I’m not mopey.” I just want to eat ice cream and cry like it’s my job, that’s all.

Mom raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little bit mopey.” I lean back in my chair, letting the news wash over me. “How come I don’t look like, you know?” I pull the skin back on my face.

“You won’t look like a ghoul until you die as a mortal.”

“So, instead of dying, I’ll become a gray-skinned zombie someday. I guess that’s kind-of a bonus.” My head’s officially spinning. “Anything else you want to share?”

“I think that’s enough for one morning, don’t you?”

“Yes, totally.” I hitch my thumb toward the door. “I’m going to play depressing music and get ready for school.”

“I’ll get out the Frankenberry.”