For someone who wrote a novel with a superhero named “Dark Lightning,” you wouldn’t think a thunderstorm would make me so nervous.

Well, as I said, you look terrible, for one thing. Beat-up terrible. Like someone was using you as a punching bag.” He ran a hand gently over his face. “Is it really that bad?” He sighed as I nodded. “Is that the only reason for your concern, Dr. Fisher?” He paused in between bites.

Anna, you do have decent fashion sense. But I’ve seen your outfits, and you don’t have anything to wear on a date. Jeans, capris, geeky tee shirts, and more jeans.

You have to be a friend to have them.

Alan shrugged. “I love the CBC, really, but being voted its president—” “Co-president,” Sputnik corrected. “—is kind of like being declared King of Nerds.” “Co-king,” Sputnik asserted.

He was quiet for a moment. “So, in this analogy, you’re Mary Jane?” “You got that right, Tiger.

Who are you?” he asked, in a bewildered tone. I cocked my head at him, totally baffled. “I told you. Anna Fisher. And I happen to be starving, so let’s go.” I tugged at his arm and led him back in line.

Um, you don’t have to join me, but if you’re looking for a table, there are a couple good seats over there.” He nodded toward the far end.

No weapon in my bag? No problem—my whole bag was a weapon. Grabbing it by the strap again, I swung it off my shoulder and through the air toward my assailant with as much force as I could muster.

No—I’ve got it,” Jill announced, interrupting my musing. “He’s a vampire.” I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. “Seriously, it makes sense. He’s always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won’t bite them....Maybe that’s what he’s doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.