“And Betsy, too,” Jessica said with touching, hilarious loyalty.
“You’re adorable!” I cried. No one in the history of human events had better friends than I did. Especially when you considered what I put them through, consciously and otherwise. Borrowing clothes without asking didn’t begin to cover it.
“—but it’s a stopgap measure at best. If this outing-the-vamps thing gains any momentum, and Marc’s pretty sure it will, we’ll need a new plan. I’ll have to explain that, yep, I live with vampires, they’re definitely real—oh, did I not mention that?”
“You’re right,” I said, nodding.
“Which, uh.” Dick coughed into his fist and darted a glance at Jessica. “Brings us to this.”
“You’re moving out.”
“Wait, hear us out! It’s not that we don’t— Yes. That’s the plan.”
“As it should be. No, I’m serious.” I rushed ahead in the face of their astonished expressions. “You’re a family now; it’s not just about the two of you.”
“We’re all a family. Everyone here.” Jessica reached out blindly, found Dick’s hand, squeezed. He squeezed back. “Better than any family I had growing up.”
“Yes, but now you’ve got your weird babies to think about. It was one thing when there wasn’t any media scrutiny. If the Big Bad of the week showed up here, he’d have to get past multiple vampires, a zombie, the occasional visiting werewolf, puppies that wouldn’t hesitate to pee on them, and an armed cop before he’d even see the babies. But who knows what’ll happen now? The reporters will be back. The looky-loos will follow. Heck, Marc chased a few of them away already today. We’ll have to lock it down, deny everything, maybe even disappear a few people, God forbid, or . . .” I trailed off.
“Or?” Dick prompted.
I shook off my thought; now wasn’t the time. “Or not. But either way, too many unknown varieties, y’know?”
“Variables. Yes.” Jessica shifted on her stool. “I have to say, I thought you’d take this a little harder.” She glanced at the Barnes and Noble bag she’d brought in with her, but made no move to touch it. “I thought there’d be threats and promises and at least one tantrum, and maybe bribery.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Jess. I don’t want you to go. I want you and Dick and your weird babies to stay here forever. But like I said—and like you two know: it’s not just about you. It’s barely about me.” Wow, that felt weird to say. “You’ve got to put your as-yet-unnamed babies ahead of everything else.”
“That’s very—”
“It’s just I love you,” I continued, while Dick made a funny coughing noise, the way tough guys do when they don’t want you to know they’re tearing up. “It’ll be hard to see you go. We’ve been on-and-off roomies since we were . . . what, nineteen?”
“Twenty,” she said, smiling. “Since the U bounced you just before the end of sophomore year.”
“They really should warn people when they register: if you set so much as one measly accidental fire while drunk, suddenly it’s an expellable offense.”
“The early signs of living with you being a terrible idea were all there,” she replied, grinning. “But, alas, ignored.”
Undeterred, I went on. “I love living with you. And it’s handy having a cop around, I won’t lie. I shouldn’t have complained all those times about having all these roommates. I’m sorry I did that.”
“You never meant it. We always knew that.”
“Yeah, I gathered, what with how none of you ever left despite the power of my bitchery. I don’t want you guys to go, but the weird babies come first.”
“You’ve got to stop calling them that.”
“The minute they stop being weird, I will.”
I meant it. All of it: the smart thing would be for them to get gone, and I’d be a terrible, selfish friend to try to prevent that. Frankly I was surprised it had taken them this long to figure it out.
But I couldn’t help thinking about all her other weird babies, the kindergartners and the high schoolers and all the twins in between in all their delightful strange iterations (the Antichrist’s word of the week was taunting; mine was iterations). They were never surprised to find themselves in the mansion kitchen. They always knew where everything was. They always knew who we were. They always had thorough, intimate knowledge of the mansion and everything and everyone in it.