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.
"Hello, Mrs. Davidson. Tyler's opening the garage door for you. Would you like me to take a look at that remote? I'm Jay, by the way."
Marissa checked her over. "Well, hi there, Jay. You one of Caro's friends?"
"I hope so. I'm also a friend of Tyler's."
"Really." Marissa cocked her head to one side and eyed Jay thoughtfully. "Tyler's friend too, huh?"
Jay nodded. Since Marissa obviously found it strange that Jay would be friends with her son, she chose to volunteer enough information to settle any qualms the woman might have. "I just transferred in. Tyler and I are Bio partners and we have English together, too." That last fact Tyler had yet to discover because he'd skipped English.
She ducked her head and scuffed her sneaker on the driveway, acting as though she was embarrassed about admitting something. "He's very sweet. He helped me get through my first day."
Marissa's expression smoothed, doubts sliding away. "First day at a new high school isn't much fun for anyone."
Jay nodded. "Yes. It was rough. Would you like me to look at that for you?" She held out her hand for the garage door remote.
"You fancy yourself a bit of an expert with electronics, huh?"
"I don't fancy myself an expert, I am one." It was the truth, and Jay saw no reason to make light of her abilities in this instance.
Shrugging, Marissa relinquished the remote. "What the hey. It's not like it's working properly anyway."
Jay pulled a tiny toolkit from her jeans' pocket, selected a screwdriver, and began to disassemble the remote. Noting Marissa's theatrical wince, she said, "It's quite a simple device. It will be easy to find out what's wrong with it."
"Sorry to come across so anti," Marissa said. "Mike—that's Caro and Tyler's dad—fancied himself a bit of a handyman. He was a whiz with computers, but anything else? Let's just say it never ended well."
The garage door creaked open to reveal Tyler leaning on a button by the internal door. "Hi, Mom. Sorry I took so long."
His mother parked the vehicle and cut the engine. It died with a cough, which didn't bode well for it starting up again without a struggle. She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. "Bloody car," she muttered. "Last thing I need right now is for it to give up the ghost."
Tyler beckoned Jay inside. "Caro invited Jay for dinner," he said to his mother. Hope that's okay? he mouthed.
His mother hesitated, then gave a quick nod.
Jay pretended not to have seen the silent communication and ducked her head as though intent on the inner workings of the remote.
"And speaking of dinner—" Marissa sniffed the air. "Something smells good. What're we having?"
"Spaghetti bolognaise," Jay said, handing over the remote and pocketing her screwdriver.
"How did you—?" Tyler began.
Too late, Jay realized she'd done something out of the ordinary. A distraction was necessary. "It's my favorite. Everyone knows what his or her favorite meal smells like. Try the remote now, Mrs. Davidson."
Tyler's mother jabbed viciously at the button and watched the garage door smoothly close without any jerking false starts. She blinked, pressed it again and watched it open back up in the same efficient manner. She turned to Jay with a delighted grin. "Gosh, thanks! I take it all back, you are an expert!"
"You're welcome," Jay said.
Tyler pried the remote from his mother's hands and used it to close the garage door again before shoving it in her handbag. "C'mon you two. You can play with the remote and do the mutual admiration thing later. Inside and wash up! Pasta will be all gluggy if you don't get a move on."
"Hey, Tyler," Caro screamed from the lounge. "Sounds like something's boiling over!"
"Ah, crap! Not again."
"Tyler!"
"Sorry, Mom," he yelled over his shoulder as he raced off.
"Caro!" Jay heard him howl from the vicinity of the kitchen. "Couldn't you have gotten off your sorry butt and turned the pasta down?"
"Not my turn to cook," his sister yelled back. "Doing important stuff here."
"Yeah. Sure. I know you're watching music vids instead of doing your homework. Oooooh!" He wailed an impression of a popular singer. "Can you handle it? I don't think you can handle it!"
Jay caught Marissa's full-body shudder. "I apologize in advance for my kids," Marissa said. "Siblings. You know what it's like." Her gaze lingered on Jay's shirt.
"I'm an only child," Jay told her. "So this is.... This is a refreshing change." She watched as Marissa seemed to shrug off her fascination with the borrowed shirt.
As a cop from a movie Jay had watched liked to say, "Dodged that bullet." It could prove embarrassing for Tyler if his mother recognized his shirt and asked why Jay was wearing it. Jay didn't believe Tyler would appreciate his mother knowing he'd vomited while watching a frog being dissected. She followed Marissa and the aroma of slightly overcooked spaghetti to the kitchen.
Caro made an appearance as her brother was dishing up. "Oh, hi!" she said to Jay. "No one told me you'd arrived."
"Here." Tyler dumped a large serving bowl full of drained spaghetti into his sister's arms. "Make yourself useful and take this out to the table. And," he said to Jay, "would you mind taking the salad out, please?"
"Why does she get a 'would you mind, please' and I get a 'make yourself useful'?" Caro whined.
"Because Jay's a guest," her mother said. "And besides, you weren't exactly being useful, were you?" She assisted her daughter through to the dining room with a firm hand on the small of her back.
Jay followed Caro. "I'm sure you're very useful when you want to be," she ventured, in an attempt to build rapport.
"Typical." Caro plunked her burden on the table. "Ever since Dad left, she always sides with Tyler and—" She broke off, fiddling with the serving spoons. "Anyway. Thanks for coming at such short notice."
"Thank you for asking me."
Caro pulled out a chair and indicated Jay should do the same.
Jay observed Caro carefully. Mimicking Caro's relaxed posture, she slumped forward with her elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands, and legs hooked around the chair's front legs. "May I ask your advice?"
"Sure." Caro assumed what she probably imagined was a worldly-wise expression.
"It's about the behavior of one of the employees in the electronics store. He gave me his cell phone number."
Caro smirked and waggled her eyebrows. "Ohhh! Best not mention that in Tyler's hearing. He'll pitch a fit if—"
"He'll pitch a fit if what?" Tyler was juggling a serving dish of bolognaise and a ceramic tray designed to hold three small bowls, each with its own tiny stainless steel ladle.
"Ooh, fancy!" Caro teased, shooting a conspiratorial glance at Jay. "How come you don't just bring out the dressing bottles?"
"We have a guest," he said, placing everything on the table and fiddling with their artful placement.
Caro rolled her eyes. "Sheesh. Next thing, we'll be using the good linen napkins instead of—"
"Sorry about that, love." Marissa walked into the dining room brandishing four linen napkins that obviously matched the tablecloth. "We use them so infrequently I'd forgotten where I stashed them."
Caro shut her mouth with an audible snap as Tyler carefully folded the napkins and placed one beside each place setting.
"Well, this is nice," Marissa said, beaming first at Jay and then Caro. When her gaze got to Tyler, her smile faltered and became strained. "Thanks for going to so much effort, love."
"No problem, Mom." Tyler didn't seem to notice his mother's tension. He smiled sweetly at her, and then ruined the effect by casting an evil glare at his sister. "It all turned out pretty well, considering Caro only told me she'd invited a guest over for dinner like, an hour ago."
Caro shrugged when her mother queried her with raised eyebrows. "I couldn't help it if practice ran over time could I? Now, if I had a cell phone, I could've—"
Marissa buried her face in her hands and pressed her eyelids with her fingertips. When she'd regained her equilibrium she said, "Please, Caro, not now. We've already had this conversation. And no mentioning it to Grandma Davidson, either. I refuse to take any handouts from that old cow after what she said to me when your father—" She flushed when she noted Caro and Tyler's poorly hidden misery. "Well. Anyway, same goes for her giving expensive gifts to you, too, Caro. You are not to so much as hint that you need a cell phone."
Caro's gaze dropped to the tablecloth. She pleated the edge with her fingers. "Sorry."
Tyler let out the breath he'd been holding and passed the pasta bowl to Jay.
"This smells wonderful," she said, because she'd been told by Father it was polite to compliment the cook. In truth, although she could separate out the aromas of every ingredient that had gone into the dish, she neither liked nor disliked the smell. It was fuel. She'd eaten far better meals—and far worse—to maintain her body's optimum muscle tone and keep it functioning at its full capacity. Regardless of what she ate, her system would extract the nutrients required and expel the rest. She could eat things humans would not be able to stomach, things that would make them violently ill—such as the old takeout she'd mentioned to Tyler.
She helped herself to a large portion of his bolognaise.
The tips of Tyler's ears turned pink.
Interesting. Jay wound spaghetti around her fork and took her first bite. As she chewed, she was hyper-aware of his eyes glued to her face, awaiting her reaction to the meal he'd cooked. For her.
She swallowed her mouthful and smiled at him. "This tastes fantastic."
His blush deepened, creeping down his neckline "Th-thanks," he managed.
"Amazing what you can do with a jar of pasta sauce and a bag of salad greens," Caro said, her tone a beautiful example of what the kids termed snark.
Tyler's eyes narrowed to slits. His mouth opened.
"I agree," Jay said, before he could utter a word. "It is amazing. And I really appreciate the effort you've made, Tyler. It's lovely to have someone cook for me, for a change."
Marissa exhaled a huge breath that reeked of relief. She caught Jay's eye. Thanks! she mouthed.
Jay smiled back. As she ate, she examined Caro and Tyler's mother.
Marissa closely resembled her daughter. But where Caro's face was as yet unlined, her mother's showed strain. Fine lines bracketed Marissa's mouth and worry had etched two matching creases between her brows. To Jay's enhanced vision, artfully applied cosmetics did little to disguise bluish smudges of too many sleepless nights beneath Marissa's eyes. Although she put on a good enough show to fool her children, it was obvious to Jay that Marissa was fatigued. And being the sole guardian of two teenagers had to be mentally stressful, too.
It was unnecessary for such an attractive woman to live alone with no male to support her, either financially or emotionally. Jay would endeavor to discover Marissa's requirements and introduce her to a suitable man. And perhaps having an adult male in their life again might assist Caro and Tyler, also. In Father's opinion, children benefited greatly by having two parents involved in their raising.
"So, Tyler." Marissa pushed aside her plate. She'd barely eaten anything. Although she made a conscious effort to keep her breathing deep and even—unnaturally so—her pulse rate was elevated. She spoke slowly, choosing her words with the utmost care. "Tell me about those scrapes and bruises."
Tyler's gaze lit briefly on Jay before he discovered something extremely fascinating about one of the arugula leaves on his plate. "'S nothing. Things got a bit rough during Phys Ed."
"Really." Marissa's gaze never left her son's face as she broke off a minute corner of her bread roll, popped it into her mouth and chewed far longer than necessary. "Looks more like a close encounter with a fist caused them, if you ask me."
Tyler's head shot up. His gaze skittered from his mother's impassive face to Jay's.
To Jay, his face read like an open book.
"Would you care to enlighten me?" However politely couched, Marissa's request was an order. Her breathing had now quickened to a pant. Hectic spots of crimson painted her cheekbones.
Tyler contemplated his food, his mouth set in a defeated grimace. "What's the point? It's obvious someone's already ratted me out." He darted an accusing gaze at his sister, but Caro shook her head, pleading her ignorance with wide eyes and a mouthed, Wasn't me!
Jay accessed the nearest Wi-Fi network and performed a specific search. When her suspicions were confirmed, her requirement for sustenance vanished.
She arranged her cutlery neatly on her plate and pushed it aside. She had been foolish to provoke Shawn. She had been especially foolish to overreact during the confrontation. The consequences of that foolishness had been exacerbated now that Matt had captured her "stunt" on video and uploaded it to a social networking site.
~*~
Copyright 2011 Maree Anderson
www.mareeanderson.com