Freak

Chapter Six: The Clarksons

Still silent, I twisted the doorknob and stepped in. My thoughts were pounding, twisting and turning in my head. What was I going to do with Jackson? Where would I sit tomorrow at lunch? With the gang? Is that even what I should have called them? What was going to happen with my mom, if Mrs Cornwell was even telling the truth?

I stepped into the kitchen, only to see a dark haired boy standing beside the sink. His face turned to mine, his luminescent green eyes holding my gaze. For most girls, they would probably think of him the cutest guy in the world. From that mischievous look in his eyes, to his perfect smile, he would have been every girl's dream. Not mine, however. I felt my fingers reach behind me to wrap around my umbrella.

It wasn't nearly enough as I needed in the case of a stranger; I knew that much. I might not have known much or been in the situation, but I did know that much.

"You must be Grace," said the boy. I didn't answer, and before I knew what I was doing, my hands formed into fists. My mind couldn't process what I was doing. All I know is that my fist was punching his cheek before I fully understood what I was doing.

The stranger pushed me back, sending me crashing into the wall behind me. "What the hell?!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong with you?!" I just stared up at him from the floor. 

"What is going on in here?!" demanded a man's voice. The man who was in the doorway was round and short, which contrasted against the woman behind him, who was rather tall and thin. They just stood, stiff as boards with their backs too straight to look humanly, more than robots. With their suit and formal gown, I would have mistaken them for royalty... If they weren't in my house, of course. "Zackary, why is this girl on the floor? Be a gentleman and help her up!"

"And who even is she?" added the woman, with a hint of a mid-atlantic accent to her voice. She almost sounded british..

"I should ask you the same question," I spat. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" The couple just laughed.

"Oh, darling, please excuse our son's behavior. You must be Grace Roslie. This is Henry Clarkson, and I'm his wife, Pearl," smiled the woman.

I turned my head to see the boy-Zachary-finally reach his hand out to me. Most girls would I taken it, but I'm not most girls. I helped myself to my feet. "It's just Grace," I muttered. Like girls with two names-like Mary Jane, for example-that was technically my name, but no one except my dad called my Grace Roslie. Just Grace.

"Sorry about that, Ms Grace."

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Is that anywhere to treat your guests?" Henry questioned.

"'Guests?'" I asked.

"Yes, Ms Grace," Henry answered. "We'll be staying with your family for a few months while I help your father with a project. Do you mind?" I was about to answer, but my dad's voice cut me off.

"Of course she doesn't," he responded. "Because if she did, there would be a major problem."

****

I wanted to yell at my dad for making the Clarksons stay at our house. I wanted to rip his eyeballs out of his head for making me look like a fool. There were so many things I wanted to do, but I couldn't, not with the Clarksons there. So, I made my way to my room.

There, on the other side of my room was a bed that was not there before, one covered in a lavender blanket covered in peace signs and smiley faces and a girl. Her medium length curls framed her pale face and bright eyes peered up at me from her novel. If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn she was related to Zachary.

"Oh, hi," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to her book for a moment. "Sorry, this book is really good." The girl eyes rose to meet mine. "It's called The Selection. Have you ever read it?" I could only manage to shake my head. "Grace, right? I'm Lana"

"Hi," I answered quietly.

"Wow," she admitted. "It's so weird seeing another..." I cut her off.

"You're one, too?" I inquired.

"Yea..." She looked at me funny. I could tell she wanted to say more, but my phone interrupted her thoughts. It rang loud, the train sounds springing into the air. The number read unknown, but I answered it anyway.

"Hello, this is Grace, right?" came William's voice from the phone.

"How did you get my number?" I asked.

"Long story," he answered. "So I called you to talk."

"Now isn't a good time," I admitted.

"Meet me in park across from your house at nine then. If you come then I know you care." He hung up before I could respond.

"Who was that?" Lana questioned, her voice full of curiosity.

"None of your business," I muttered as I lay down on my bed.

****

That night, I slid my arms through my sweater when I was sure Lana was asleep. 8:49 read my phone. I shoved the window open, sticking one leg out into the cool late autumn air.

I knew where I was going. 8:50. I couldn't turn back, not from right now. 8:51. Something about going seemed right. 8:52. I watched the street for cars, before stepping into the street. My eyes caught his shadow. I couldn't look back...