Darkly Dreaming Dexter (Dexter, #1)

by Jeff Lindsay

I am a very neat monster.

Deb is the only person in the world who gives a rusty possum fart whether I live or die. For some reason that I can’t fathom, she actually prefers me to be alive. I think that’s nice, and if I could have feelings at all I would have them for Deb.

A small shudder crawled up my spine. Why was I doing this? The quick answer, of course, was that I wasn’t doing it at all. My dear friend in the dark backseat was doing it. I was just along because I had the driver’s license.

And one fine autumn afternoon after a chemistry class, as I walked across the campus toward the student union, Deborah appeared beside me. “Deborah,” I called to her, sounding very collegiate, I thought, “come have a Coke.” Harry had told me to hang out at the union and have Cokes. He’d said it would help me pass for human, and learn how other humans behaved.