That was a non sequitur if ever I’d heard one. “Wasn’t that Dracula’s stomping ground?”
“And this is what passes for modern education.” He ran a hand through the midnight dark hair he’d bequeathed me. “Vlad the Impaler, Andrew.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know you’re different from other boys, different from your own brothers and sister.”
He was so serious that I grew frightened. “You’re not going to tell me I’m adopted, are you?”
“No.”
I blew out a relieved breath. “I’m not from Krypton, am I?”
“No, you’re not a ‘strange visitor from another planet’.” A small smile flitted across his face, only to quickly vanish. He gripped my shoulders.
All I heard was the “no,” and I chuckled in relief. “You scared me, Dad. I thought for a second you were going to tell me…I don’t know what you were going
