“Yeah, I can.” He pauses, considering carefully. “You used to tell me things that didn’t seem correct and after a while, I started to think you were a liar. So I began paying attention when you spoke to me—the little things you would do. And I noticed sometimes you scratch at your wrist. It took me a while, but I realized it’s like a nervous itch or something, when you’re not telling the truth.”

“I don’t do that.” I drop my hands to my side. “And I’m never nervous.”

His eyes sparkle as he balls his jacket up and stuffs it inside his backpack. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” I self-consciously tug the sleeves of my shirt over my wrists. “I can promise you I’ve never been nervous.”

“But you can’t promise me you’ve never lied before.” He swings his bag over his shoulder.

“You’ve lied too.” I pick up my bag and secure it on my back.  “So don’t stand there and be all self-righteous.”

“I’m not.” He walks over, reaches around me, and grabs the straps of my backpack. “I’m trying to make a point.” He clips the straps together.

“And what point is that?” I adjust the bag so it’s comfortable.

“That we’ve lied to each other.” He steps back, dark bangs falling across his forehead “And I think we should just forgive each other right now and move on. No more lies. Only the truth from now.” He sticks out his hand to shake on it.

I feel like I’m five years-old as I take his hand. “This is kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“I promise to tell the truth from now on,” he says, discounting my remark.

We shake hands and he waits for me to say it back.

“I promise too,” I say, but like usually, my words are fake and I know it. Because there’s so much I still haven’t told him, and I don’t plan on telling him any time soon.

He seems satisfied, though, and we drop hands. Then we sneak out the back door and step onto the ashen streets of the city.

“So these half-breeds or whatever you call them,” I say. “Can they only come out at night?”

“I try to not call them anything.” He starts down the road. “However, they like to call themselves the Day Takers.”

My eyes examine the windows and doors of the buildings as we pass them. “So they can come out during day.”

“No,” he says “They can come out in the shadows of the day.” He gazes up at the smoky sky, spreading his arms out to the side of him. “But standing out here … they’d burn alive, just like the vamps would.”

“Well, then their nickname is a little misleading,” I say, gaze lifting to the roofs.