Freaks of Greenfield High

Freaks of Greenfield High (Chapter 19)

Freaks of Greenfield High

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Nineteen

Michael punched in the code Jay had given him and waited until the deadbolts slammed into place. "Just act normal," he told Tyler. "We don't want any of the kids panicking."

But acting normal, like he wasn't locked in an apartment with a bunch of other kids to protect them from madmen with a terrifying agenda, and no qualms about collateral damage, was gonna be the hardest thing Tyler had ever done in his life. He hoped Caro didn't spot him. God only knew what he'd blurt if she asked what was going on.

Tyler squinted and dabbed his watering eyes with his sleeve. After the gloom of the stairwell, the bright flashing lights seared his eyeballs. From what he could see, none of the partygoers had heard anything untoward over the booming music. And no one seemed to bat an eyelid at the adult who'd suddenly joined them. They were all too intent on dancing, drinking, eating, talking, and doing what teenagers did at parties—even necking in shadowy corners, by the looks of it. All were oblivious to the danger Jay had put herself in for their sakes.

Michael shadowed Tyler as he headed for the nearest window. Which was just plain stupid, really, since all the windows were set so high up the walls he couldn't possibly see out without a ladder.

A ladder.... With a ladder, he might get out through a skylight and onto the roof. But wasn't like there was one conveniently lying around the place. Tyler stared up at those tantalizingly unreachable panes of glass and fisted his hands. Better that than scream his fear and frustration, which sure as hell wouldn't be acting "normal".

"What do we say if someone wants to leave before Jay gets back, or—" Tyler didn't want to think about the alternative. Couldn't. "What do we tell them?"

"We say the locks are jammed and Jay's gone to get a locksmith," Michael said. "It's only eleven. Can't imagine any of these kids wanting to leave so soon. Not when there's plenty of food and drink to keep them happy." He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. He sat with knees bent, chin propped on his hands. Tyler joined him.

"If I didn't know how impossible it was," Michael muttered, "I might actually believe she cared deeply for you."

The flashing lights painted Michael's face with lurid rainbow slashes. He looked alien, implacable. Hard. Completely unlike the man who'd raised him and Caro—the father Tyler had once believed could do no wrong.

"Why is that so impossible to believe?" he ground out. He knew what Michael meant but it hurt all the same. "Am I so unlovable? Is that why you left?"

Michael White, AKA Mike Davidson, his father, turned pain-filled eyes on him. "No! Of course not. Don't be an idiot, Tyler. It's just.... You do know what she—Jay—is, don't you?"

"Yes. She told us—Caro and me. Showed us, actually."

Michael blew out a relieved breath. "So. You understand why she didn't mean it—why she couldn't mean it. She's a cyborg, Tyler. A machine. She can't love anybody. She pretends. She's an outstanding mimic."

Tyler burst out laughing, but it was a mirthless laugh laced with despair. "But she did mean it. She told us something was happening inside her, something not even she could comprehend. She did have feelings. And emotions—human emotions. I saw her crying. So I know she really could care for me. I know in here—" he thumped his chest with his fist "—in my heart, she really could love me."

"Tyler. Son—"

"Don't call me that, Michael." His father flinched back from Tyler's vicious emphasis of his name. "You lost the right to call me that when you took off five years ago."