Freaks of Greenfield High

Freaks of Greenfield High (Chapter 6)

Freaks of Greenfield High

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Six

Jay watched the figure inside the house approaching the front door. Viewed through the patterned frosted-glass panes, Tyler's features appeared so grossly distorted that he resembled a cartoon caricature. Once her vision compensated for the distortion, Jay could see him chewing his lower lip, hands fluttering nervously as he tugged his shirt straight and finger-combed his hair.

If she cared to, Jay could eavesdrop and hear what he was muttering beneath his breath. Out of courtesy she tuned out, respecting his privacy. Father had taught her to do that. The old man had habitually muttered to himself, and hadn't appreciated having his words repeated back to him verbatim.

Courtesy aside, some part of Jay dearly wanted to hear Tyler's words. Because some part of her—an alien part, still in its infancy—hoped his mutterings might somehow relate to her.

An ancient station wagon demanded Jay's attention when it jumped the curb before rattling to a screeching halt in the driveway.

Its driver was a woman with the same rich auburn tones to her hair as Caro's. The woman left the engine idling while she fumbled about in her handbag. "Dammit!" Jay heard her say. "Where the heck did I put the darn remote?"

The car's engine hiccoughed and spluttered, and the woman revved it to prevent it stalling. Finally locating the remote, she aimed it at the garage door... which refused to do what it was supposed to do. Namely, open. She closed her eyes, groaned and rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a few moments before jabbing the remote—again with no success.

Tyler jerked open the front door and Jay switched her focus back to him.

"Jay," he said, sounding breathless. "C'mon in."

"Hello, Tyler. Your mother's home."

He stood on tiptoes and craned his neck to look over her shoulder. "Ah crap," he muttered. "Garage door opener's on the blink again. Can you tell her I'll open it manually?" He raced off down the hall.

"There's a pot boiling over on the stove," she called after him.

"The pasta!" she heard him say before another expletive floated to her ears.

Jay walked over to the car. The driver's name was Marissa Carolyn Davidson. Jay knew this because once she'd decided to make Snapperton her home, she'd accessed public records for every Snapperton resident.

Marissa was thirty-seven and mother of twins—Tyler, and Carolyn, who preferred the diminutive "Caro". Five years ago, Marissa's husband had packed a suitcase, walked out of the house, and for all intents and purposes, vanished. Town gossip insisted he'd run off with some unidentified floozy.

Marissa was currently employed as a secretary at the Snapperton Legal Office. Prior to embracing fulltime motherhood, she'd been a registered paralegal, doing everything for her employer barring presenting actual cases in court and giving legal advice. Her skills were underutilized and unappreciated by her current employer. She was barely managing to cover her family's living expenses.

Right now she was taking out her frustrations on the garage door remote.

When Jay tapped on the driver's side window, Marissa jerked in her seat, eyes wide as they raked Jay's face, one hand fluttering at her throat. Her breathing was rapid and her pulse had quickened.

Jay had scared her, and that had not been her intention. She ventured an "I'm harmless" smile.

Marissa rolled down the window of the vehicle.