Chapter 1:Farren Grey

Farren Grey Central Chapter in Part 1

Chapter 1:

Farren Grey

 

            I sat on my floor, white shag carpet sticking to the skin of my legs in the warm room. Slowly I leaned back onto the bed behind me, making it creak slightly at the added weight. In front of me was a yellow manila folder, one that people would normally see carrying official documents or some other important papers that you wouldn’t want to get dirty.  Not that a thin layer of paper would stop a mug of coffee that spilled on it in the office, trying to hide the solitaire game you were playing before the boss decided to show his face for once.

            They were emancipation papers, which is why I had one of these official-looking manila folders. Some call it blackmail while others call it negotiation, and they were going to my mom, who would certainly see it as a bad thing. I had been threatening to get the papers for months; it being an empty threat that my friend’s dad came up with to scare my mom into making a life changing decision. I was surprised that I had actually felt compelled to do so, spending a lot of money to get them. In the state of Washington, pretty much all you need to do is walk to the county court house and ask for papers, no questions asked. There’s a little more to it, but it’s pretty much just that easy if you have the money to pay for the processes. All mom needs to do is sign or attend a hearing, not that I expect her to do either.

            See, I had given her an ultimatum, which in a family is kind of a big thing. When there are only two people in the house, the impact of an ultimatum falls a little short. Between getting sober or losing the last person in her life, my mom doesn’t really see a reason to even choose; hence the papers. She needs to choose soon, but I pretty much already knew what she’s chosen. I can feel the pain of it every time I see another tequila bottle lying empty in the trash. She’s on a tequila kick this month. Before, it was Jack that I was seeing all over the house and Jose the month before. 

            I’m surprised I’m even doing this to my mother.

            It’s not like I hate my mother; quite the opposite. I love my mom; she’s the only family I have left. Her drinking problem may have gotten to the point where it’s a problem, but even still she treats me just fine, with all the love she can through the veil of alcohol. Well, almost. She’s gotten to be aggressive, unpredictable. We fight a lot now, and I won’t lie and say things haven’t gotten to the point where it gets physical.  I hate it, and she says she does too in those rare moments of clarity after she realizes what’s going on. It’s become rather redundant now; we fight, I threaten, she cries. She knows as well as I do exactly what she has picked.

            I stared at the brownish yellow envelope in my hand, wondering if maybe I should double check the terms on the sheets before I give it to my mother to look over. They weren’t really terms in there. I had looked it over, and inside there was a copy of the petition and the hearing date, along with a note saying that under the circumstances, there was to be a guardian ad litem assigned that would start to show up in a few weeks.

 I started to undo the little brass-colored clasp on the back of the envelope when the door bell rings.  Annoyed, I unfold the clasp back to its original position and trot down the stairs.

            I set the envelope down on the mahogany end table at the end of the hall by the door and braced myself, knowing almost certainly who was on the other side. Honestly, under other circumstances, (like me not trying to leave my mom), I would be ecstatic. Her timing definitely could be better.

            A tall blond, my age, not at all unattractive, stood in heels on my porch, leaning down over the porch railing, staring down at our neighbor’s latest mangy adoptee from the local animal shelter. I’m pretty sure his name is Walter or something. He only had one eye and he always looked mildly pissed off.  I cleared my throat impatiently, trying to get Carter’s attention.

            Her eyes shot up from the cat to me, clear blue eyes wide in surprise. It was like she had almost forgotten that she was standing on my porch, waiting for me to answer. She straightened up fully away from the cat and turned the rest of the way so she faced me head on. She’s technically older than me by four months, thirteen days, seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds, and taller than me by at least half a foot. It didn’t really help the fact that she was an extra three inches taller because of her shoes.

            “Carter…” I trailed. I was rapidly getting irritated, not that nowadays that was hard to do. I just didn’t like the fact that Carter was wasting my time, standing there wordless, while I could be getting this conversation done and over with. Plus there was the fact that my mom was probably getting drunk and wouldn’t be able to give a cognitive response anyway. I sighed.

            Hurt flashed across her face at my obvious irritation. Instantly I felt bad at causing my best friend some kind of mental anguish, and I struggled to mask the emotion from her before she became pissed and stops talking to me. That’s bad, just so you know.

            She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her first two fingers. While she was thinking, I quickly looked her up and down. She was dressed in a light blue blouse and a pair of black work trousers, which was paired with an equally black pair of high heels. I furrowed my brow in confusion at her choice in clothing before remembering she had had a job interview this afternoon.

            She inhaled, obvious that her good mood had turned sour, no doubt because of me. She was silent for a few heartbeats before she decided to speak.

            “Well, I was going to see if maybe you wanted to catch a movie or something, considering the fact that I know that you haven’t left this house since school ended…”

            Quickly I interrupted her. “No. I’ve gone out. I’ve gone shopping, post office, drug store…”

            “Liquor store?” she added, eyebrow arched, challenging me to deny it.

            My mouth opened and shut wordlessly, trying half-heartedly to come up with a proper denial and comeback. She nodded her head knowingly, my silence confirming her suspicion. She gestured to me and the house.

            “Right… well, you know, it looks like you have something more pressing going on...”

            She never finished her sentence. With a grateful “Glad you understand,” I shut the door quickly. I didn’t see her face before I shut the door, and I was half-tempted to peek through the peephole, but the manila folder at the end of the hall had more calling then a reaction to getting a door slammed in your face.

            I caught mom just before she started pouring a clear liquid into a small glass cup from a newly opened bottle. I watched as she took the cup and bottle out from the kitchen into the family room to her seat on the couch in front of the television. The theme sequence from Days of Our Lives played loudly on the screen.

            I stalked over to her, determined to catch her before she took her first sip and lose any rational thought. She’s a lightweight, and every with every sip, the alcohol hits her harder and faster. Just as she raised her glass to take a sip, I dropped the folder down on the cushion next to her, making her jump, startled.

            She eyed it uneasily, as if it would somehow jump up and attempt to shred her face into bits. If I had wanted that to happen, I would have gone and gotten a particular monster book from Diagon Alley.

            “What’s this, babe?” she asked, pulling open the brass clasp to look inside. “Some kind of award or something from that school?”

            “It’s summer, mom. There is no school.” I sneered.

            As she pulled the first sheet out of the folder, I sat down on the edge of the coffee table gingerly. It groaned slightly under my added weight. It was already heavily laden with newspapers and magazines. I’m surprised it hadn’t fallen sooner.

            “You know what it is.”

            Realization spread across her features, the title of the document visible to me as her grip slackened and the top of the page flopped over towards me. Her face furrowed as she considered the consequences of my decision, then changed to anger.

            “Emancipation? Really? You’re blowing the little whiskey I drink at night, something I do to relax myself, completely out of proportion, Fae.” She stared down at the papers again in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

            “Unbelievable,” she muttered, scanning down the rest of the page. She flicked the first page down onto the couch and started on the second.

            I ran a thin hand through my short hair, determined not to jump my mom now and throttle her to death. “No mom, I’m not. It’s an addiction and you know it. You need to stop pretending everything is alright and look around the house.” I quick gestured at the table I was sitting on.

 “See! It’s disgusting. And your ‘little nightly whisky,’” I air quoted, “It’s destroying the family. It’s ruining us: something that took forever for dad to even do.” I glared at her, advancing slowly towards her. She gulped visibly.

“Oh, that’s right, Dad’s dead.”

The venom dripped from my voice as I felt the tears started to prickle in my eyes. I didn’t want to show weakness, not to her. It’s the last thing in the world that I wanted to do, show my mom weakness. I took her stunned reaction to my advantage and turned around, quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. I took a breath to steady myself before continuing my onslaught.

“We have been fighting about this since the month and a half that dad died. He worked to make sure we had a house, and you worked to keep it clean and make sure we had something to eat. We never fought before he passed. We did when you took that first sip.” I gestured wildly around the room.

“The house he worked for is a mess. I haven’t hung out with any of my friends since school ended in June. It’s August now. Carter, Carter! My best friend I had to blow off today just so I could take care of you.” Angrily I struggled to breathe, struggled to keep my hands in criss-cross-apple-sauce position behind my back.

“Is that why you were such a cow to me at the door? It’s true, then?”

I spun around and spotted Carter standing in the kitchen, leaning on elbows on the half wall the divided the kitchen from the family room. She smiled at me, letting me know that we were okay, but I still felt guilty that I had so easily brushed her off.

She moved around the wall and walked into the family room. She looked at my mom and set a steady hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at her.

“It’s okay, really. But I think that you really need to settle down a bit before you finish this little chit-chat with Mommy,” she said, leading me through the kitchen to the front hall.

She looked unfazed, almost happy like she normally was. Almost. I frowned.

“How long have you been standing there, listening?” I asked, poking my head back into the kitchen to check in on my stupefied mother.

Her face turned grim and she shrugged, picking the lint off her black pants. She still hadn’t changed out of her outfit.

“I heard enough to get an idea of what’s going on,” she said simply. I shook my head, obviously not satisfied at her lame attempt at a lie.

She caved under my stared. “Oh, fine. I followed you inside after you slammed the door in my face,” winced, and continues “…and heard voices so I followed them and saw you two and just sat and watched the scene.”

I raised a brow at her confession. “So, a while?”

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and grabbed my arm, pulling me down the hall and jerked open the front door, which hadn’t closed all the way when she had followed me. Forcefully she shoved me outside.

My arms whirl wind-milled as I struggled to catch my balance. I strayed precariously close to the steps and latched onto the railings on the edges of the porch. Steadying myself, I turned to face her, still shocked by my near-disaster experience.

Carter stood behind me, struggling to contain her laughter. She nudged my side, trying to get me to ease up. I gave in, her laughter contagious.

“How about that movie?” I asked, weak from laughing, punching her arm lightly.

She smiled, helping me down the stairs of the porch and walking up the sidewalk to her house up the road. They had recently re-paved the sidewalk, and I could see the faint outlines of our hands and sneakers from the indents we made shortly after they set the concrete.

“Hmmm, I’m not in the mood anymore, unless it’s down in my basement with a giant bowl of ice-cream, and a really bad romantic comedy starring Ashton Kutcher.” She chuckled.

Carter’s house is literally three doors down and across the street from mine, so it wasn’t long before we turned off the sidewalk to cross the street. She’s always lived there as far long I can remember. To be honest, I didn’t know she existed until the teacher stuck us together in third grade and she forgot how to spell her name. “Momentary lapse in memory,” she always says, followed by my retort of: “It’s a blond thing.” We were inseparable since, so it’s little wonder she knows how to cheer me up.

I walked up her porch steps, pausing without warning at the top so Carter, who was texting and not paying attention, ran into my back. I snickered and opened the door, only to feel a hard shove against my back, throwing me inside and against the closet door in the hall. I shot her a look and she grinned back at me, quite pleased with herself. I chuckled.

Someone cleared their throat, startling the pair of us. I turned around and saw her parents sitting in the front parlor, reading a newspaper. Funny thing to be doing at five in the afternoon. Always considered it a morning activity. I felt Carter stiffen next to me so I looked over at her, puzzled.

10

She glared at her father with icy eyes, ones I knew she never gave anyone unless they did something bad or unusually cruel or ignorant to her. Or they just plain pissed her off, which wasn’t hard to do to the blond.

Mr. Finch cleared his throat again, finishing his section of the newspaper and setting it down on the low-lying coffee table in front of the sofa, catty-cornered to Mrs.Finch. She was reading the real estate section in an arm-chair, not bothering to hide her obvious displeasure. Mr. Finch stared disapprovingly at his daughter.

She sighed softly, barely containing her irritation and stepped not so discreetly away from me, putting distance between us and narrowing her eyes into slits. Confused, I looked back between her and her father, feeling the tension increase in the air. I reached over and tapped lightly on her arm to get her attention and break the staring contest.

She jerked back like I has just touched her with a hot iron and she shook her head, turning slightly away from me. Puzzled, I stepped back until my feet hit the bottom of the steps across from the front room entryway.

Carter turned back to me at the light thud my shoes made against the wood step and smiled apologetically at me before turning to her dad.

“Farren’s having issues with her mom right now, and kinda can’t stay over there. Her mom and all…” she trailed, looking back at me. I stepped forward a few inches. “Can she stay here until tomorrow or things get sorted out?” She tore her eyes away from me and stared at her father. I almost expected her to cringe.

I looked down at my black all-stars and idly scratched at the denim covering my leg. Carter hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t told the complete truth. I didn’t need a place to stay.

Her father stood up slowly and made his way around the sofa so he could lean against the back. He was a private attorney, but Carter had said he worked in the military, so he always had this intimidation that seemed to follow him where ever he went. He even looked G.I Joe, what with his short military cut he always seemed to have and his great, confident, out-right bad-a*s posture.

He’d always seemed like a cool enough guy, kept to himself whenever I was over, made polite conversation, even joked around a few times or watched the Seattle Seahawks game on T.V. Considering how he grew up in Seattle, a few hours away, he always was keen on keeping his loyalties there. Then again, Seattle is in Washington, and Ravenbrook was in Washington. I had always thought that he and Carter got along great, but in the past few months, obviously something happened that changed that.

He crossed his arm and gestured to me to step forward. Not wanting to see the bad side of Mr. Finch, I complied.

“You’re in trouble?” he asked, even though it was a rhetorical question. He knew what went on in my house. He’s the one who even suggested the emancipation. I don’t know if he knew that I actually petitioned for one.

12

I nodded. “Mom has gotten worse. I filed for emancipation and just gave her the papers. She acted like she hadn’t done anything wrong and I kind of freaked out on her.” I glanced down at his feet and noticed that he was wearing bunny-printed house slippers. I stifled a laugh, trying to mask it with a fit of coughing.

His forehead crease in confusion at my fit, and I froze. Satisfied, he pursed his lips and bobbed his head, like Carter does when she’s thinking about something important. He looked over at Carter, who was still tense.

“She can stay, but I want her to sleep in the spare room next to yours. I want no funny business while she is under this roof, agreed?” He stared at her, eyes dark and serious.  I wondered what he meant by funny business. Carter and I were just friends, not conspirators in some evil plot of something.

Carter clearly understood the subtext, and her mouth dropped open in fury and disbelief at her father’s audacity.  “What do you think is going to happen? Burn the house down because we’re in the same room? When did it become a problem?”

I was stunned. Normally Carter was pretty docile, I’ve never, in all my years of knowing her, seen her lash out at someone so easily. Whatever her father had been implying must have been pretty personal.

Mr. Finch ignored his daughter’s protest and turned to me. I gulped, ready for him to strike me with something personal. His face softened.

“Go home and get your stuff. Stay as long as you need to, at least until things settle down at home.”

Carter angrily spun on her heels and threw open the door to leave. More confused than ever at her behavior, I followed, and made sure I closed the door in the process.

“Hey, Car, what was that all about?” She was moving quickly down the sidewalk, so I cut through her lawn and jogged to catch up. “Car?” I grabbed her elbow to slow her down but she jerked it out of my grasp in a similar fashion to earlier.

“Nothing. Dad is just an a*s who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She hissed venomously.

I shook my head, unconvinced. “Carter, that didn’t seem like nothing. “

She scoffed, throwing her hands up in a gesture that seemed like she was giving up. “Whatever, he just takes things a bit too literally, Fae, and it pisses me off. Like I said, it’s nothing.” She stopped herself and paused, taking in a deep breath.

I still had no idea what was going on between her and her dad, and it irked me that she wouldn’t tell me. It doesn’t help the fact that she obviously knows that she’s holding it from me with the intent of me never knowing. Aggravated, I switched topics.

“Can we just go get my crap now?” We had stopped in-front of one of the houses that separated the distance between my house and hers, and knowing old Ms. Myers, we needed to leave her property soon.

Carter nodded, grateful that I dropped the subject. “Right, your stuff.”

14

 She still looked upset, but I decided it wasn’t worth chasing after if she wasn’t going to tell me exactly what was wrong. Plus I had a new thing to worry about. I mean, I’m glad Carter is coming with me and all, but with her being so upset and me about to go home, I’m beginning to rethink the presence of my very miffed friend. It’ll be hard enough talking to Mom without Carter’s hostile vibes pouring off her.

I stole another quick look to confirm Carter’s slightly subsided mood and unlocked the door. Mom must have locked it when I left. I turned my head to glance down the hall and saw her standing at the end by the kitchen, reading a sheet of paper from the envelope. She started to head towards me, but Carter, snapped out of her personal fit, caught the movement, and grabbed me from behind by the shoulders and guided me up the stairs.

Once we reached my room, she shoved me inside, spun around, and pushed the lock in, sealing us in. Bemused, I asked her why.

“We came to get your stuff,” she said, suddenly acting all perky. He sudden mood shift caught me off guard and I glared suspiciously at her. She reached under my bed and grabbed my travel bag out in one practiced movement. She opened it up and started throwing random bits of clothing into it.

“Start packing,” she ordered. I looked from the rapidly filling duffle bag to Carter.

“Why can’t I talk to my mom? I asked, moving towards my door. Quickly she grabbed my hairbrush, brandishing it fiercely at me. She scowled darkly at me, but the glitter from the eye shadow made her eyes appear huge, losing the frightening effect and just making the scene comical. I snorted in amusement.

“Besides,” she continued, throwing the brush into the bag. “You’re not in the right state of mind to be discussing this issue with your mom. And clearly, she wasn’t either. Best leave it for tomorrow.”

I frowned into the opening of the duffle bag and at Carter, who was now at my closet and pulling things off the hangers. “Are you sure all that crap will fit into my bag?”

She shot me a devilish smile and shoved the garments into the bag without bothering to fold them. My fingers itched to pull them out and fold them neatly before they got all wrinkled.

“I have special packing skills. I’m like a rat.” She said, proudly. After setting the last shirt on top, she leaned on it, trying to get the zipper to close all the way.

“Right, Juts like a rat. A rat, who I’m hoping keeps a neat room.” I mused.

She glared at me. “Even if my room was clean, it’s not like you’re sleeping in it anyway.” She angrily yanked on the zip, forcing it to close anyway.

I nodded. “Yeah, what was that about anyway?”

She muttered a reply, muffled incoherently by her hair and the bag. Satisfied that the packing was done, she looked up at my clock.

“Is it six o’clock already? Dad’s not gonna be home, he had to leave a bit ago. He has research or something for some case he’s working on.  Might as well leave now while it’s still quiet.”

16

I nodded and hefted the bag onto my shoulder. Carefully, I stepped down the stairs with Carter following suit close behind me. Her foot slipped in the heels, knocking an old box of scrapbooking supplies, tumbling down the stairs in a noisy clatter.

I halted, chest pounding in my chest.

Carter, ever impatient, tried to coax me from behind to get moving.

“Farren? Fae, baby, is that you?”

Carter quickly pushed me down the rest of the stairs and down the hall to the door, muttering under her breath, “No confrontations, no confrontations…” over and over into my ear.

I opened to door just as my mom entered the hall. He hair was loose from her ponytail as if she had just been napping, and her eyes were clear and full of worry. In fact, she looked practically sober.

I opened my mouth to speak but Carter quickly shoved me out the door.

“Hey!” I shouted, nearly toppling down the steps a second time. I turned back to glower at her.

 “Sorry!” she cried, continuing to force me down the porch steps.

I turned my head angrily at her while we continued our journey towards her house. “Hey you! She had a paper in her hand. She could have signed the papers or something.” I hissed, planting my feet into her lawn we were walking across.

Carter snorted.”You don’t honestly believe that, do you? For all you know, she could have been trying to ease herself out of it.” She paused to pick up my bag that I dropped.

“We won’t know what she wants until she does, and that will be solved tomorrow when she’s definitely sober and wondering how the hell she let you go. Believe me, she’ll let you know.” She set a hand reassuringly on my shoulder.

I sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” I walked to her porch steps. “But if anything goes wrong, I’m blaming you.” I added while she reached for her keys.

“And when it all goes well, I’ll take credit for that too,” she said cheekily.

She moved in front of me to get to the keyhole and continued to speak. “Now, as I’m sure you well remember, you are no longer sleeping in my room like we used to. Nope,” she pushed the unlocked door open. “You’re sleeping in the guest room right next to mine. Looks exactly like mine. Isn’t that funny?” her nose crinkled in amusement.

Perplexed, I asked, “Why the change?”

She made a face. “Remember the whole taking me too literally? Yeah, this is part of it.”

“And what is It?”

18

She hesitated for a few heartbeats on the steps leading to the second landing before responding. “It’s nothing really. Dad’s just overreacting to… just started acting funny one day’” she paused looking down at me to see if I caught the change in the middle of the sentence. I did. She sighed. “It’s just become really frustrating.”

I nodded. Yeah, he seemed a little different that last time. He seemed more…” I searched for the words, motioning for Carter to help me out with her hands. She did.

“Stiff. Cold, stern, strict…” she offered.

I shrugged. Maybe I bit more than just stiff, cold, stern and strict. “Yeah, something like that,” I stated.

She paused outside of the door next to her own room. The door was open, and I looked inside. True to her word, the room was the exact same as Carter’s own, albeit in shades of blue and brown versus her purple and blue, and neater.

“This is the extra bedroom. We haven’t used it in ages, but so long as you’re here…” She ran into the room and launched herself onto the bed. “It’s all yours.”

I looked around the room, setting the bag down in front of the closet. “And it’s right next to yours,” I recalled from earlier.

Carter jumped slightly, disrupting the neatly made covers. “Yep, so we’ll just chill in my room until bed.”

A low rumbling noise followed, and Carter cracked a smile nervously.

“Sorry, haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She explained.

“Grilled cheese sandwiches? I can cook us up some.” I offered, feeling hungry myself. The last time that Carter had tried to cook, she discovered the fire extinguisher was expired and didn’t work. That was making ramen.

She grinned and hopped up, running past me and charging downstairs. When it came to food, Carter would drop anything she was doing if it meant she didn’t have to cook it. I smiled and hopped down the stairs myself, belly grumbling all the way.

 

 

e way. 

Author's Note

First chapter introducting Farren Grey, and by extension, Carter Finch. Note: As i find little things wrong with it, as I have no beta, it will be updated quite a bit