Hello, Little Sparrow Jordan Jones (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📖

should probably keep that to myself, Brooks thought, laughing internally.

A man with his out-of-control son was positioned across the room from Brooks. The child was kicking and screaming, shouting: “I don’t want to see him anymore! I’m tired of this! I just want to go home!”

Brooks cocked his head to the side. He knew his thinking was starting to get irrational, especially when interpreting what others were saying, but this boy struck him.

What he said seemed sincere.

His uncle was probably bringing him in to see his abusive father who was arrested for physically abusing him. Brooks was sure he was right. There was almost no other reason why he’d be acting that way.

The child’s voice finally drowned out the ticking of the clock, which hung above the main office reception desk, though Brooks knew it, was still there…just keeping time.

Time was all Brooks had. He worked, yes, but as long as the plants were thriving at Fasten Biofuels, his job was complete.

But, it wasn’t. Far from it. He knew Madison would once again rise from the ashes and demand he take action again. She’s been nice up to this point, but she was a little more menacing with Geoff Burnley. She would demand her Phoenix take the most gruesome action.

He was OK with it. “Just tell me when,” he said under his breath. The man to his left looked up from a magazine, raised his eyebrows, and went back to reading about muscle cars.

“Visiting room is now open,” an officer boomed from across the waiting area. The stripes on his shoulder indicated some kind of leadership position, so Brooks knew he had to keep a straight head. “Please sit down at the phone with the number corresponding with the paper you were given upon entry.”

Thirteen. Lucky.

Brooks took a seat on the steal stool that was screwed into the concrete floor. His cousin Angela sat down across from him, her deep blue eyes cut right through the plexiglass and into his soul. She had dark brown hair, which he swore was much darker than before. Her orange jumpsuit read: Property of Maine State Corrections across the front, and Brooks assumed, the back.

Her face wasn’t nearly as skinny has he remembered it when he last visited nearly a year ago. The meth tore an avenue through her mouth, causing major gaps between visible teeth, though the sores were gone, and leaving only residual scars from years of use.

She smiled and picked up the phone.

“Good morning, Cuz,” she boasted from the other line of the phone. Even her voice sounded different…more…defined and controlled than before.

“You look good,” Brooks replied.

“Thank you. They’re taking good care of me in here. As I told you in the letters, this has been a great experience for me.”

“Looks like it.”

The awkward pause was only enhanced by the manic conversation happening right beside them, both parties grew louder and they were reminded by an officer to keep the noise down.

“How have you been?” She asked.

“I’ve been fine. Working, eating, sleeping, and working.”

“Living the dream, I see,” she quipped. Brooks wanted to telepathically tell her what he’d done. She was one of the few people who would understand, though everyone should have.

“Something like that. So, you’re getting out of here soon, huh?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “I’m clean now, and they’re setting me up in a rehab facility upstate near the Canadian border. I’ll live there for a year and then I’ll be able to find my own place again.”

“That’s exciting news,” Brooks said. He forced his facial expression to match her emotion. He’d found it difficult since his time at the bridge to convey any real since of excitement.

“It is!”

Brooks was happy for his cousin and wanted to see her succeed. She was one of the few family members he had left, possibly even the only one he knew about. She had messed up working with the wrong people, but he was happy to allow her to have another chance.

“Look, Angela. I’m happy you’re getting out,” Brooks started. “I’m glad you have this plan. I need to know something, and I thought I’d bring it here to talk to you about it, because I may not ever see you again.”

“What do you mean, Cuz?” She said, looking confused. “We’re the only family each other’s got right now. Of course we’re going to be in each other’s lives from here on out.”

Brooks felt his fist begin to clench involuntarily. He felt the presence of something greater in him had just entered the door of the prison. He wanted whatever it was to blast through the doors of his soul and make itself known.

He knew who it was. And, he ignored Angela’s statements.

“I want to talk about what Dad and Uncle Samuel did,” Brooks said, his voice very monotone and without empathy.

She sat back in her seat and narrowed her brows. Her voice rose to meet the coldness of his heart. “Why would you want to talk about them for?”

“There are shaky timelines. We were young. I’m trying something out and I want to see if it’s working.”

Angela’s face turned pink from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what you’re doing Brooks, but I don’t like it. It’s not funny. I told you after all those years of dealin’ with that stuff, I don’t want to talk about it no longer.”

Brooks remained calm and did not match her. He scooted to the edge of his seat and spoke directly into the phone. “I need to know how many victims there were altogether so I know how much this penance will cost me.”

Angela placed a phone a few inches farther from her face.

“What are you saying?” She asked.

“If you make me say it here, you won’t like the response you get. Long-term. Short-term. Any of it. Just