Barry Farland looked at the man slumped over the work bench in the dim light. When the man caught Barry’s stare, he straightened up and turned his face away. A lot of people couldn’t handle looking at that face, but Barry was used to it. Guess his father was just as used to people calling him “Freaky” instead of Ferguson. And having them look the other way in horror or fear or whatever.
Except for Ginnie. She wasn’t afraid of his father and didn’t care what he looked like. Ginnie the Gem, Barry called her. Or maybe he should call her Ginnie the Genie—for how she was able to convince her mother to let her visit Barry and his dad. Barry smiled to himself. Ginnie the Genie. He liked that.
A bell rang in the front of the house, and Barry left to greet the customer and take down all the deets
