He wet his lips and lowered his eyes for a moment. Then his gaze met mine without flinching. "It's like I told you once before," he said quietly. "I just want to know the truth, the real truth about everything!"
I got to my feet and began to slowly pace the floor. I paused in front of Ruth's chair and looked down at her. She caught my hand, gave it a squeeze and nodded.
I turned back to Adam. "You won't like it," I said.
"Maybe not. But I gotta know. I just gotta!"
"Not 'gotta'," Ruth corrected automatically. "'Have to'."
"I have to know."
I paced three more laps, still hesitating. I felt like a surgeon, trying to decide whether or not to operate when it's a toss-up whether the operation will kill the patient or cure him.
"All right, Adam," I said wearily. "You win. But you have to promise me something. Promise me that you'll never say anything to the other Kids about what I'm going to tell you."
Now it was his turn to weigh a decision, and I could feel the battle going on behind those crystal-clear eyes. His innate honesty, battling with his insatiable curiosity. He considered for perhaps a full minute, then he nodded. "Okay. I don't think it's right not to tell Kids the truth—but I promise."
"Cross your heart?"