Part 15 - Second Chances
The words are written on lined notebook paper instead of parchment, with a blue ballpoint pen instead of a quill. No matter how many times she reads her brother's spiky, thin handwriting, Izzy can't get over how completely alien the paper looks to her. The girl feels she should be a lot more shocked and hung up on the information that the paper contains, but she can't seem to get past how utterly strange it is to be holding a slightly wrinkled notebook sheet after not having seen one for about seven years.
Seven years. That's how long she's been missing her brother, longer if you count the distance he put between them before that with alcohol and drugs. The tally probably comes closer to ten that way.
Ten years.
Her shoulders quiver and her gut heaves and retracts in that painful, uncontrollable way it's been doing ever since she regained her ability to actually breathe. She grinds the heels of her hands at the wetness stinging her cheeks.
"Miss Cooper?"
Izzy remembers that she's still collapsed on the floor of the headmaster's office. Her sense of sound has switched itself back on after a lengthy absence. She turns her head. Professor Snape is kneeling beside her, as concerned and caring as she's ever seen the Potions master look. Or at least since that first time they met... He only ever looks that way when he's looking at Izzy. Izzy can't decide whether that fact makes her feel comforted or like even more of a freak.
"Miss Cooper?" he asks, catching her dazed, far-off stare with his own, "Are you alright? Do you need to see the nurse?"
Shaking her head, Izzy forces her throat to work around the sobs still wracking her thin body. "No," she croaks, very close to hysterical with relief and excitement and grief and fear, "No. I need to see Jordy."
xxXxx
Like he has been at every meal for quite awhile now, Charlie walks into the Great Hall at breakfast and immediately scans the massive room for Izzy.
Today, he doesn't see her. Which isn't entirely unusual; Izzy does make it a habit of getting caught up in the library or Potions lab or wherever and missing meals. Charlie's heard almost all of the girl's friends scold her repeatedly for it, threatening to tattle to Myron, who used to insist on her presence at every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But none of them ever actually has, so Izzy just keeps on skipping.
As soon as he finds his dream girl absent, Charlie makes a beeline for his team's keeper. Charlie is sure that, as a roommate and good friend of Izzy's, Lark will be sure to know where she is.
"Morning," Charlie greets, sliding in between Lark and Marie, ignoring the slightly strange looks they and the other surrounding girls--Daisy, Margo, Tonks, and Trinh--as well as (what the hell?) Nero Roman give him. "Seen Izzy?" the redhead questions, right to the point.
They all look suddenly disturbed, Lark answering, "She never came back to the dorm last night. She's not still in the infirmary?"
Frowning, Charlie shakes his head. "Pomfrey said she was fine," he reported, concerned, "She was released before I was. I would've walked her back to the tower, but Dumbledore called her up to his office."
"Odd," Nero comments, his arm slung lazily around Trinh's slim shoulders. That causes Charlie to do a bit of a double-take. Having Slytherins at the Gryffindor table is not entirely unusual. Margo and Cale are there quite often. The feud hasn't been so bad in a long time, something that Izzy has had a large part in. But this kind of fraternization is just... well, odd. Nero is a rich, spoiled pure-blood. Trinh is a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake. She's brainy and has green hair and hits on almost anything with a Y chromosome.
But Charlie can't concern himself with their strange relationship right now. He needs to find Izzy. He needs to talk to her. He was so close last night, so close to having the girl's trust. He's sure that he can help Izzy heal.
"Alright," Charlie says, getting up to go search, "I'll find her. Later, mates."
xxXxx
Her eyes feel like great big water balloons, overfilled and ready to burst for, Merlin, probably the millionth time since she got the news. But she's also excited, so excited, fidgeting with nerves and anticipation. And she tries to forget that she's standing outside HM Prison Belmarsh in South London. That her brother has been inside for the past seven years.
Arson, manslaughter, attempted manslaughter: these are words Izzy never really considered in conjunction with her brother. But Jordan Daniel Cooper, inmate #32981, was sentenced to fifteen years for exactly those crimes, for burning down their squat and killing six and injuring four drug-dealing thugs in the process, for flying into a drug-addled rage when Izzy didn't come home, when he thought that she'd been murdered by men to whom he owed money.
And he's getting paroled today, a shortened sentence because of good behavior and years of single-minded devotion to rehab and counseling, because Jordy turned his life around. Because he thought that his choices had killed his sister--at the very least stranded her in a cruel world all alone--and could only live with himself by becoming the man she would've wanted him to be all along, the big brother she deserved.
At least that's what the speech he wrote for his parole hearing said. Izzy read the wrinkled sheet of notebook paper over and over on train ride to London, sobbing and laughing with joy.
And now Izzy waits outside the prison, standing between Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore and trying to keep her hands warm and her eyes dry and her mind from flying off in all directions at once.
Obviously uncomfortable, both with the situation and with Izzy's fidgeting, Snape checks his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes. He reports, "Should be soon."
Izzy nods sharply; her anticipation grows worse; she starts to cry again, but she's smiling, too, so at least there's that.
She's mostly gotten herself under control by the time the reinforced steel gates buzz shrilly and slide apart and the thin man limps out, leaning heavily on a cane and joking with the guards who escort him. He... doesn't really look like Jordy. Well, that's not entirely true. The eyes are the same kind green but edged with deep wrinkles, some shiny scar tissue curling at the corner of the left. The same scar continues down the man's gaunt cheek--not quite touching the junction of his smirking lips--down the side of his sinewy neck and disappears under the hem of his black wool sweater. Izzy can see more scar tissue on his left hand, the one that holds the cane; she can see that his left leg is thinner than the right, stiff and misshapen. But the man has Jordy's scraggly chestnut hair, although it's longer, tied neatly at his nape and shot through with scattered threads of gray.
Since losing him, Izzy has spent a lot of time holding onto her brother's image, thinking about what he would look like as he grew older. The last time she saw Jordy, he was twenty, young and high and cruel. Today, he's twenty-seven; he looks and walks like he's forty, thin and hobbled and tired.
Izzy's gloved hand flies up to smother another sob that threatens to burst from her mouth.
But Jordy hears and looks up and sees his sister and his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open and his knees buckle and he collapses to them on the damp gravel just feet away. "Izzy?" he whispers, stunned.
Reflexively smiling, Izzy nods and takes a few steps closer, stands over her brother. She stares down into her brother's eyes and, though she hoped she would be able to, can't find the strength to reach out and pull him into a hug.
But Jordy seems to understand. He's crying, but he's smiling and his scarred hand flutters like he wants to touch his sister but knows he shouldn't, knows that Izzy doesn't like to be touched.
Izzy thinks he's sweet for remembering.
"God, Izzy-baby," Jordy sobs, seeming unable to take his eyes off the sister he thought was dead and gone, "God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
xxXxx
All things considered, Jordy takes the news of his sister's magical powers very well. Sharing a late breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron, the man is all nervous smiles as he jokes that he always knew his baby sister was something special but her being able to fly and bibbidi-bobbidi-boo really comes out of left field.
From the corner of her eye, Izzy sees Professor Snape sneer from his and Dumbledore's table across the room--their effort at giving Izzy and her brother some privacy as they reconnect. She barely resists the urge to make a rather rude and uncharacteristic gesture back at the disapproving Potions master. Instead, the young woman grins weakly and fights down tears as she declares, "I-I looked for you Jordy. We looked for you. They didn't have your name listed anywhere, not even in the prisons."
"Oh, that," Jordy responds, scratching anxiously at the shiny, puckered scar tissue on his left cheek. He offers his sister a half-hearted, faux-brave grin and declares, "Well, I had to be put into protective custody. The guys I killed in the fire had some friends looking for revenge, and I got sort of, uh, stabbed while I was in the hospital. I got transferred afterwards and registered under a different name, so they wouldn't find me again while I was inside."
Izzy's hands fly up to smother the startled squeak that comes from her open mouth. She starts to cry again.
"Aw, Iz," Jordy pleads helplessly, "Don't- don't cry. I was fine. Really. It was just a little stab. They stitched me up and I was good as new. Didn't hit nothin' important."
The girl's gaze grows heated. Sniffling hotly, she insists, "I consider the entirety of my brother to be important, thank you very much." Her gaze drops guiltily to her shaking hands. Izzy scolds herself for scolding her brother. She should be hugging him, not trembling uselessly inside her own body and lashing out at him with words.
"Ok, Iz," Jordy quietly replies, refusing to take his eyes off his sister, "I'm sorry if I upset you."
Shaking her head, Izzy answers, "No. It's... you didn't. Just, I-I wish..." She trails off.
Jordy offers a thin grin, soothing, "I know, Iz. Me, too." He stares at her for a long few moments, finally huffing a brief, manic laugh. "Jesus," the man declares, disbelieving, "I never thought I'd see you again. You never turned up in the system, and I thought... if you weren't dead, you were long gone. I hoped you'd run. That you'd just gone and tried to forget about me." There were tears coming to his eyes again. "You never deserved what I did to you," he wept, "I didn't deserve you at all, and I never will. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better man for you."
Izzy realizes that she's crying, again, and argues, "It wasn't your fault. You were sick, Jordy. I know that it wasn't really you. You were a kid yourself. It was... just too much."
Roughly shaking his head, Jordy insists, "No! No, Iz! There's no excuse for what I did! You were so small and scared and helpless, and I was supposed to protect you!" Jordy puts his head down on the sticky tavern table, onto his folded arms and sobs convulsively. His thin shoulders hitch and heave.
The room beyond their secluded corner booth is almost empty, dark and quiet except for Jordy's muffled anguish. Izzy wants to put her hand on her brother's shoulder, wants to hug her brother and tell him that it's ok, that she forgives him, that he's better now and they're together and that's all that matters.
But she can't. She still can't bring herself to touch her brother, can't tell him that what he did is ok because it's still not and Jordy doesn't want to hear that it is, doesn't want to hear the diplomatic lie.
"Ok," Izzy declares, swallowing a lump in her tight throat, "You failed me back then. I didn't understand how one day you could just... decide to hate me. You were the one person I had in the whole entire world and then you were... you were just like everybody else. Worse. A-And it hurt. A lot. It still does."
Jordy's crying grows more intense, more pained and shamed and sorrowful, and Izzy is a little afraid that he's going to make himself sick with it.
"But you get a second chance," the girl continues, smudging at her wet cheeks and puffy red eyes, "And I trust that you are a better man now. That you won't make it any harder for me to keep on loving you. Because it's been hard, Jordy. I won't lie. But I've never stopped. I don't think I can. So just... just don't let me down again. That's all I ask."
For a few moments, the shaggy-haired man keeps his head down, heaves out the last of his wretched sobs. But then he sits up, squares his narrow shoulders, fixes his kind, swollen green eyes on his baby sister. He swallows hard. "I won't," he murmurs hoarsely, "I-I swear on my life... All the time I was inside. I just spent it trying to be the man I should've been all along. I don't if I succeeded, but... at least I'm not the same stupid, selfish bastard I was."
The siblings share slow, sad smiles. And move forward in lives that once again include each other.
xxXxx
Their next order of business is to look for an apartment for Jordy, something nice, Izzy insists. She does a lot of insisting, like how she's going to use the royalties she gets from the several potions discoveries she's made to help with the rent, how she's going to move in with her brother as soon as she finishes school, how she's going to take a job with a lab in London, one she's heard has been doing excellent research on potions to treat burns and burn scars.
Grinning absurdly, Jordy goes along with anything and everything his baby sister wants. Although he does put up a token resistance at the idea of her helping him with rent, he seems equally thrilled about her moving in with him. "This is kinda like when we found our warehouse," he observes, limping alongside his sister as they look for apartment 6G, "Except that you're taller. So that's a little weird, ya? I still think of you as being ten-years-old, all tiny and adorable. But now you're all grown-up and beautiful. It'll take some getting used to. Hey, do you still like Chinese food? We should totally get Chinese food for later!"
"Sure, Jor," Izzy laughs, greatly amused by her brother's rambling, "Whatever you feel like. But not until we find a nice apartment. This place seems very promising. I guess Dumbledore knows the owner, so the rent is fairly cheap for the area. There's a tube stop, a market, a video store, and a park all within a block. And the entrance to Diagon Alley is only a mile away. I could walk to work if I get the job I want."
"Sounds nice," Jordy beams, "You always did know how to pick a winner." They take a few more steps in companionable silence, slow for the man with the cane. Finally, he asks, "So, when do you have to be back at school?"
Brushing away a stray amber curl, Izzy smiles and answers, "Next Monday. I'm taking the week off to help you get settled in." She frowns suddenly, adding, "I just remembered, I have to write Charlie and let him know."
"Boyfriend?" Jordy teases, waggling his dark eyebrows, "Should I start composing a threatening big brother speech?"
Giggling and blushing, the teen insists, "Charlie is certainly not my boyfriend. He's just a friend. I'm tutoring him so that he can get his grades up enough to graduate, and, anyways, I don't have a boyfriend."
"Load off my mind," Jordy jokes, stopping in front of 6G and nodding down at his cane, "It takes way too much effort to be scary these days."
Shooting her brother a stern but playful glare, Izzy declares, "I don't need you to scare anyone off for me. I'm more than capable of defending myself, thank you."
Jordy grins widely, scar tissue stretching tight and a dimple pitting his unblemished right cheek. "That's what I like to hear," he murmurs, proud and sincere.
Feeling her face get hot, Izzy looks away to fiddle with the lock on 6G and finally manages to open the door.
The room inside is bare but bright, broad windows and light wood floors and cheery yellow-and-white striped wallpaper. "It's... perfect," Izzy says, wide-eyed as she explores the tidy kitchen/living room, as she pokes her head into both of the bright bedrooms and the bathroom between them, the spacious balcony that overlooks a nearby park. She smiles at Jordy over her shoulder, watching him lean against the tiled bar counter that separates the kitchen and living room areas. She asks, "What do you think?"
"Honestly?" the man laughs, "If I can unlock my own door and take a piss without anyone watching, I'm happy. Not to mention that the 'baby sister included' package has me sold on pretty much anywhere."
Izzy chuckles at her brother's antics, going back to exploring as she orders, "Check the cabinets in the kitchen for me. Make sure nothing's broken. Oh! And do you mind living so high up? I mean, the elevator seemed ok, but was it too slow for you? And what if it breaks down?" Frowning, the teen muses, "Maybe we should find something on the ground floor."
"Iz," Jordy soothes, "You said so yourself: this place is perfect. Don't worry so much about me. If the elevator goes out, I'll just take a walk round the corner 'til it's fixed. Get some ice cream or something. You know, enjoy being a free man."
Fiddling nervously with the tail of her long braid, the girl states, "As long as you're ok with it... and I could probably rig up a charm to keep the elevator from breaking down and maybe to speed it up a bit, too. That thing must be at least twenty years old. I'd hate for anyone to get stuck."
A slow, fond smile spreads over Jordy's face. "You're just a great big giant nerd, aren't you?" he laughs.
"So I'm told," Izzy quietly replies, walking back into the kitchen with an equally fond smile on her pretty face, "Come on, let's go talk to the building manager. And we'll probably need to do something about furniture..."
xxXxx
He didn't realize until she was really gone, gone without a trace, but Charlie has come to depend on Izzy's presence. He's come to love knowing she's around. She's a security blanket; knowing his pretty crush is safe makes Charlie feel safe. And the fact that she's vanished makes him feel anything but.
"PROFESSOR!!" he shouts, chasing Snape down a dungeon hallway because if anyone is going to know where Izzy is, it's the crotchety Potions master. "PROFESSOR SNAPE!!"
Charlie sees the man sigh heavily before turning to fix the teen with a more than usually sour expression. "Yes, Mr. Weasley?" the professor questions, curt and annoyed
"Do you know where Izzy is?" Charlie inquires, slightly out of breath from sprinting the length of the hallway in a rather impressive time. He wishes he would've actually timed that so he could chart it on his training log.
Sneering, Snape replies, "Miss Cooper was called away on a family matter. She will return on Monday." He produces a small sealed envelope from the sleeve of his robe and holds it out. "And," he grumbles, "Despite the fact that I am not a messenger boy or an owl, she asked me to give this to you."
The redheaded teen takes the letter almost reverently, so caught up in deciphering the information he was just given that he fails to think of anymore questions to ask before the professor steals away down the hallway in a flurry of robes.
Family matter? What could that possibly mean? Izzy told Charlie that her parents were both dead. The only other family members she'd ever mentioned were her brother and uncle, both of whom are scumbags in Charlie's opinion. Both abusive, one to a far lesser extent, but still. Why would she want to see either?
Recalling a conversation he'd had once with Bill about brothers, how it was almost impossible not to love one once you had one, Charlie decides that the "family matter" must be a "brother matter." Izzy still has nightmares about what the uncle did to her; no way would she voluntarily get within a hundred miles of that monster, and definitely not alone.
He can't help growling under his breath but is unable to really get mad at Izzy. It isn't her fault that her brother was a bastard who didn't deserve to have someone as sweet and loving as Izzy care about him.
Well, anyways, maybe it's best to actually read the letter before upsetting himself so much. Charlie carefully tears up the flap of the envelope, smiling at Izzy's loopy, girlie handwriting before getting down to actually deciphering the words:
Dear Charlie,
I'm sorry, but I won't be around for tutoring this week. I'm helping my brother get settled in an apartment in London. Feel free to owl if you have any pressing questions, otherwise Professor McGonogall should be able to help you in the meantime.
See you on Monday!
Izzy.
Charlie feels his face getting hot, flushing with anger (and, he has to admit, probably jealousy).
But that only lasts a moment. He breathes himself calm, thinking about how he would feel in Izzy's shoes, how he would handle suddenly being handed a second opportunity at a relationship with a brother he thought he'd never see again; Charlie has to admit that he'd probably jump at the chance, so he can't fault Izzy for doing the same. Not at all.
The jealousy is still there though, hot and hard and stuck in Charlie's throat.
He walks to class and can only think about Izzy.
xxXxx
Jordy checks in with his parole officer, a heavyset older gentleman with a bushy blonde beard and eyebrows. Although Officer Holt is gruff and a bit sharp with Jordy, Izzy has him charmed within five minutes of meeting.
After, they go to see Jordy's new place of employment, a community center where Izzy's brother will be mentoring at-risk kids, demonstrating with his crippled body and awful story the dangers of drugs and alcohol and crime. The center is relatively new, tidy and cheery; it has a pool table and air hockey, a basketball court and playground outback. They hang out for an hour, meeting co-workers and supervisors and some of the kids, all of whom are very nice.
Izzy is amazed at just how good her brother is with the kids. He's charming and personable, and everyone seems to take a quick to liking to him.
"You're going to have a good time with this job, aren't you?" Izzy observes, smiling serenely as they leave the building.
"I think so," Jordy agrees, practically glowing, "I really like the idea of making a difference for those kids, keeping them from going the road I did. I worked with a different outreach program while I was inside. Scared straight, you know? And that was nice, too, but not half as much fun."
Laughing, Izzy replies, "I'll bet. Anyways, do you want to go home or maybe look for some furniture?"
"Furniture's good," Jordy answers, "But how about lunch first? My treat."
Before Izzy can answer, a bike messenger comes around the corner and narrowly misses them, clips Jordy's cane and sends the man crashing down to the pavement.
"HEY!!" Izzy shouts as the harried messenger just keeps going, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, YOU BLOODY FUCKING WANKER!!" She kneels at her brother's side, returning his cane and urgently asking, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Jordy just laughs, struggling stiffly in an attempt to stand. "I'm fine," he chuckles, grunting, "Just don't think I've ever heard you swear like that before."
Izzy blushes, steadying her brother's cane as he pushes himself to his feet. "Well," she grumbles, still fuming, "The prat had that and more coming. I've a good mind to track him down and hex his nose to his arsecrack!"
Snorting, Jordy laughs, "You can really do that? Bloody hell. Remind me to never piss you off."
"Don't be silly," Izzy huffs, lightly brushing some dirt off his coat sleeve, "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm sure," Jordy answers, seemingly bemused, "You worry too much about me. I'm a gimp, not made of glass."
"I know that," Izzy sighs, "Come on then. Let's go to lunch."
"Now you're talking," Jordy laughs. He goes to sling free arm around his sister's shoulders, stopping midair when she flinches away. "Sorry," he mumbles, sad and embarrassed, "Forgot."
"It's ok," Izzy replies, quickly regaining her composure, putting on a brave smile. Jokingly, she adds, "Don't worry so much. I'm not made of glass either."
Jordy smirks. "Ya," he agrees wistfully, "You're made of a lot stronger stuff than that."
xxXxx
Izzy buys furniture, a big, soft couch, a few tall chairs for their kitchen bar, two beds, two dressers. She buys new linens, towels, bathmats. Dishes and cookware. It takes hours to get everything moved in, but it's worth it to see the apartment looking so normal and homey.
Jordy's leg is a bit achy from all the walking, so they stay in for dinner. Izzy makes chicken and broccoli. It's simple, but Jordy gushes as he eats.
"You're an excellent cook," he beams, spearing another bite of his third helping, "I haven't had a meal this great in, like, ever."
"Cut it out, Jordy," Izzy laughs, picking at her meager portion, "It's just chicken and broccoli. I'm glad you like it, but it's nothing special."
"I beg to differ," her brother replies, scartissue stretching as he grins, "You're really talented. I'm liable to get fat and spoiled if you keep cooking like this."
Fondly rolling her eyes, Izzy argues, "It's chicken and broccoli. Hardly five-star cuisine."
Someone knocks on the door.
"And, besides," the girl goes on as she gets up to answer, "You've been eating prison food for nearly seven years. You hardly have a point of reference."
"Got me there," Jordy chuckles.
Izzy opens the door. She's absolutely stunned to find the Wallace twins standing on the other side of it.
"Surprise!" Myron sing-songs, his mop of curly brown hair bouncing into his eyes as he holds out a huge box of chocolates.
Chuckling, holding a pretty potted plant covered in clusters of small red flowers, Mac says, "Sorry for dropping in like this. I wanted to owl ahead, but genius here was all about the unannounced visit."
"Surprises are fun," Myron defends, elbowing his brother lightly, "University's turning you into a grouchy old man. Stop studying every once in awhile and go to a kegger or get laid or something."
Izzy laughs, taking the box of candy Myron is still holding out as she says, "Don't tease your brother, My. And come on in, both of you. I can't believe you're here! I only just moved in today, and I didn't owl you guys yet to tell you about it. How on earth did you find out?"
"Oh, we have our ways," Myron says, giving a conspiratorial grin.
Mac sighs, "Myron was in Hogsmeade visiting the sweet shop girl-"
"She has a name," Myron complains.
Again, Mac sighs, long and suffering. "He was visiting Sue," Mac goes on, "Buying ridiculous amounts of chocolate just so he had an excuse to hang around the store chatting her up. He ran into Dumbledore, who told him about what was going on with you. Myron decided to kidnap me from school so that we could both rudely drop in on you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Izzy laughs, shutting and locking the door, waving the twins into the kitchen, "I'm always thrilled to see you two! And you're always welcome." Beaming, she stands next to Jordy and announces, "Jordy, this is Mac and Myron Wallace. They're good friends of mine from school. Guys, this is my brother, Jordy."
"Nice to meet you," Mac says, shaking hands with a polite smile.
Myron shakes hands as well, though he's obviously a bit more suspicious. "So you just got out of jail?" he questions bluntly.
"Prison, but yeah," Jordy replies, upbeat and unashamed, "I think Izzy mentioned you two. The student and the writer?"
"That's us," Mac answers, seeming to remember the plant he's holding, turning to Izzy and offering it out to her. "This is for you," he says, "Just a little housewarming present. It's a Butterfly Bush."
"It's lovely, thank you," Izzy beams, placing the plant on an open counter, "I'll have to put it on the patio when the weather warms up, see if it attracts butterflies."
"It definitely will," Mac laughs, "The University has them all over, and they're always crawling with butterflies and even some hummingbirds. I got this one from a friend in the Herbology department. She's been doing research on their magical properties and potential uses for potions."
"Oh, I think I've read something about that," Izzy chirps happily, "I might just have to do some research of my own... um, please, take a seat. Would you like some dinner?"
"I recommend it," Jordy pipes up, smirking at his baby sister, "Iz makes a mean chicken and broccoli."
Izzy blushes but smiles, making up two more plates as the twins sit down at the bar counter.
"Thanks," the Wallaces both chirp when their meals are set in front of them.
Izzy sits back down at her own plate.
"So," Myron speaks up first, fixing Jordy with a calculating stare, "You just got out of prison?"
"You already asked that one, My," Izzy murmurs, rolling her eyes. She probably should've expected her friend's reticence. After all, Myron has been like a big brother to Izzy since she was ten years old; he's protective, obviously worried, and maybe even a bit threatened.
"Oh ya," Myron replies, nonchalantly chomping on his meal, "So what were you in prison for?"
"One count of arson, as you might've guessed," Jordy answers pleasantly, gesturing to his scared face, "Six counts of manslaughter, four counts of attempted manslaughter. Fifteen year sentence, but I'm out after seven for very good behavior."
Even Mac, who has been thus far cordial, stops eating to openly gape.
"Hehem," Izzy clears her throat, pointedly kicking both Wallaces beneath the counter.
They regain their composure quite quickly.
"Wow," Myron coughs, kind of wide eyed, "That's... wow... you killed people?"
"Well, they kind of had it coming," Jordy answers with a shrug, "I thought they'd hurt Izzy. And I was pretty high at the time."
"So you're a drug addict and a killer," Myron observes, kind of anxious now, nodding compulsively, "Ya. Ok. Holy crap."
"I haven't been either for seven years," Jordy states, still calm and good natured. Truthfully probably a bit amused at the reactions he's getting. "What I did lost me my sister," he goes on, quiet and sincere, "If I can manage to live out the rest of my life without doing anything half so stupid ever again, I'll die a very happy and fortunate man."
After a brief, slightly awkward, very charged silence, Mac speaks up. "Well," the shorter-haired Wallace twin states, "Good luck. I hope you succeed." Another brief beat of silence, then he brightly adds, "This is really great chicken, Iz. You're an excellent cook."
Jordy just looks at her and laughs.
xxxxxxxxxx
Certain dramas in my personal life have inspired me to say "fuck the world" and to sit in my room and write. This is good news for anyone who reads my stories because I'll probably have some more updates soon. Anyways, reviews, as always, are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated.
