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Chapters (41)
  1. Dexter in the Darkby Jeff Lindsay
  2. IN THE BEGINNING
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. THIRTY-SIX
  39. THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. THIRTY-NINE

So I loaded the three of us into my car and headed north on U.S. 1, promising the whirling Rita that we would return safely for dinner. I drove us through Coconut Grove and just before the Ricken-backer Causeway turned into the parking lot of the museum in question. We did not go gentle into that good museum, however. In the parking lot, Cody got out of the car and simply stood there. Astor looked at him for a moment, and then turned to me. "Why do we have to go in there?" she said.

"It's educational," I told her.
"Ick," she said, and Cody nodded.
"It's important for us to spend time together," I said.
"At a museum?" Astor demanded. "That's pathetic."
"That's a lovely word," I said. "Where did you get it?"
"We're not going in there," she said. "We want to do something."
"Have you ever been to this museum?"
"No," she said, drawing the word out into three contemptuous syllables as only a ten-year-old girl can. "Well, it might surprise you," I said. "You might actually learn something."
"That's not what we want to learn," she said. "Not at a museum."

"What is it you think you want to learn?" I said, and even I was impressed by how very much like a patient adult I sounded.

Astor made a face. "You know," she said. "You said you'd show us stuff." "How do you know I'm not?" I said.

She looked at me uncertainly for a moment, then turned to Cody. Whatever it was they said to each other, it didn't require words. When she turned back to me a moment later, she was all business, totally self-assured. "No way," she said.

"What do you know about the stuff I'm going to show you?" "Dexter," she said. "Why else did we ask you to show us?" "Because you don't know anything about it and I do." "Duh-uh."

"Your education begins in that building," I said with my most serious face. "Follow me and learn." I looked at them for a moment, watched their uncertainty grow, then I turned and headed for the museum. Maybe I was just cranky from a night of lost sleep, and I was not sure they would follow, but I had to set down the ground rules right away. They had to do it my way, just as I had come to understand so long ago that I had to listen to Harry and do it his way.

FIFTEEN

B EING FOURTEEN YEARS OLD IS NEVER EASY, EVEN FOR artificial humans. It's the age where biology takes over, and even when the fourteen-year-old in question is more interested in clinical biology than the sort more popular with his classmates at Ponce de Leon Junior High, it still rules with an iron hand.