I’m still rattling off questions non-stop. Some of them she answers, some of them she dodges. No pun intended. Her real name is Elizabeth, but she’s been going by Dodger for over ninety years, taking the name from Oliver Twist, and not the baseball team. Sunlight stings her, but it’s tolerable unless it’s the light of dawn or dusk. The v-word keeps pounding on the walls of my mind. This whole scenario... It’s the kind of secret that leaves me itching to tell someone. I want to just go home to my mom and dad and say “hey guys, sorry I’m late. I died for a little while but luckily Dodger’s a vampire,” but something tells me that won’t exactly fly with them. “Hey, you don’t turn into a bat do you? Are werewolves real too? Buffy?” “No, no, and I hope not,” she says as we reach my front door. “Look, I’m not going anywhere. Find me at school tomorrow and ask me some more.
