I forgot to do something in the last chapter, but it's not the story. It's going along just fine.

I forgot to thank all my reviewers for well…..reviewing this story! Over one-hundred reviews is quite a success and I wouldn't have been able to do it without you all! Thank you all for reviewing! And for those of you who choose not to review, I still thank you for looking at this story at all! Knowing someone somewhere in a country halfway across the globe or even in my country is reading this puts a smile on my face! Thank you!

Read On!

TJ didn't like surprises. Nope, not at all. This hatred of things unexpected evolved through being stuck in Duval for three years without much to do. With little to do to occupy his time, he got used to doing it, and anything that threatened to disrupt him put him in a bad mood for approximately one week. This was true for any case. It was true when Spinelli and Francis arrived, it was true when Alex returned from his vacation from the Bermuda's, it was true when he was found guilty and sentenced to jail until he turned twenty-fucking-one, it was true when Duracell adopted him, and it was true when Tommy decided to ruthlessly flirt with him on a daily basis.

So he was sure that there was nothing that would be a 'good' surprise to him.

But, being the arrogant prick he tended to be, JoJo proved him wrong with a single sheet of paper.

He held the paper in front of him and read over it, but skimmed over the bottom. He knew it was the paper that the guards handed out a while ago. With the grudge between him and JoJo, he wasn't able to get until after Tommy Gun was removed from the equation.

"Application for Probation," TJ read out loud. "They give us this all of sudden. Is it even worth applying for?"

"They're not puttin' a gun to your head to fill it out," Bandit said, putting down a few of the cards he hand on the small pile on the table. "You don't have to fill it out."

"It wouldn't even be worth it," TJ said to himself. "As soon as they see my name they'll throw it out. They think I set a school on fire!"

"Then don't fill it out!" JoJo yelled at him from across the tale. "Stop bitching."

"I'm not bitching, I'm just…..I don't know." TJ paused to rub his forehead and run his fingers through his bleached hair. "Isn't probation when you serve the rest of your sentence outside of jail, but have to never get in trouble or they'll throw you right back in?"

"That's it," Bandit told him. "Exactly."

'Spending the rest of my sentence in Third Street? That could be fun,' TJ thought. Surprising everyone that Third Street with his sudden arrival took TJ from being surprised to a gleeful mood that could only be compared to what he assumed sadists felt when they got their way. The thought of scaring the shit out of everyone when he sets foot in school after they felt safe for three years put a smile on his face. He wanted to crush their dreams of peace by simply being there. And all he had to was fill out this one sheet of paper. It wasn't guarantee, but there was still a chance.

Then there were his friends. TJ didn't want to leave Bandit, Specs, and JoJo in here if they didn't get out too. That didn't feel fair to him. They've been in there longer than him. If anyone deserved to get out of there, they would be his first choice. Maybe it wasn't worth it.

"Is there a due date to turn this in?" TJ asked the others.

"The end of the week," Specs said. "Today's Wednesday, you have until Sunday."

"Plenty of time to think." TJ said to himself. "I need to think…Did you apply?"

"Everyone applies," JoJo said. "No one wants to stay in here so they're takin' every chance they get. I know I did." Bandit and Specs nodded in agreement.

"But aren't you worried that you'll get denied?" TJ asked them.

"Yeah, but it's worth a shot," Specs said. "If we get accepted, then that's great. If we don't then that's okay too because we have each other here."

"That's a good way at looking at it," he said. "I'll be back in a minute." Leaving the table, TJ went into his room in search of a something to write with. He was absolutely sure that he wasn't going to be approved for parole. Why would he? The kid who made everyone's life around him a living hell (except Prickly, he was only person who still kept in touch with him without being forced). The kid who his parents where more than happy sending him away to a reform school and didn't seem sad that he was in juvie instead. The kid who lost his friends because he liked inflicting pain upon them, along with everyone else. No. No one wants that kid to ever see the light of day again. It was bad enough that that kid was getting out when he was 21, but to get out early, that was not an option.

Then again, if he wasn't going to be approved, it wouldn't hurt to apply anyways.

He found a pencil on the windowsill and a book on his bed. Grabbing both, he started to write down the information that was needed on the form. While writing, he looked over to the box Duracell was in. He saw that was sleeping.

'She's been sleeping a lot,' He thought. 'Probably nothing…' Brushing it off, he focused on the form in front of him. He wrote what was asked for; name, birthday, age. TJ didn't stop until he saw that the form asked for his conviction. He knew what the word meant; that wasn't the problem at all. He merely did not like to talk about why he was there.

It was bullshit in his eyes. He didn't set that damn school on fire, but because what everyone else thought about him, he got the blame and won't be free until he reached the age of 21. He was essentially growing up behind bars. Eight years.

The odd thing about it was is that he could easily call the last three years the best of his life.

Arson, he wrote.

After he wrote down the five letters that spelled the word, he couldn't help but think about it.

Fire. He loved fire. He plays with the flame from his lighter when he was alone. He would run his finger back and forth through it to know what it feels like. It started out as a fascination when he was a child and lighting those cats on fire (though he would never do the same to Duracell). It made him smile and put a joy in his heart that he had never felt before. Now it's an obsession, an obsession he could barely manage when he was lighting a cigarette. It was border lining being called a fetish. There was nothing that could make him feel the same as when he was looking into a flame.

'I wish I was there to watch the school burn,' He thought as he tapped the pencil on the paper. 'I bet it was beautiful. Too bad I missed it. I'm such a pyromaniac...and I love it.' Closing his eyes, TJ thought back to last night. It was one of the many where he woke up in the middle of the night with a pitched tent in the sheets. He had dreamed about fire, and it was a wonderful dream. It was just one of the many times he dreamed about being surrounded by fire. Others would call that a nightmare, but it those dreams were the best ones.

A small, but growing, part of him wanted to be the person who set the school on fire. He wanted to be the person who created something that big and beautiful. Who wouldn't? But everyone would think he was crazy. Well, crazier than they already thought he was.

Something light landing on his shoe brought TJ out of his reminiscing. He didn't need to look to see what it was. He just picked up his pet and sat her down next to him.

"I would never set you on fire, Duracell," He told the bunny. "You're too cute." He scratched her behind the ears before going back to filling out the form. The front was finished, so he turned it over and filled out the back. It was mostly asking about grades and school. That took a few minutes to fill out, and once he was done, he scooped Duracell up in one hand, put her back in her box, and joined the others outside.

"You guys know who I'm supposed to give this to?" TJ asked them.

"The guy at the commissary," Bandit told him. "I'm about to go and buy some cigarettes. Give it to me, I'll take it."

"Thanks," he said, handing over the form. When Bandit left, he scanned over the entire dorms from where he stood. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but TJ still had a feeling that something was waiting to happen. He didn't have a clue to what it was or if it was true, but it was a feeling that he couldn't shake.

"Somethin' wrong, Freckles?" JoJo asked him.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing, JoJo," TJ said absentmindedly. "I just….need to read…."

~*~TJ's POV~*~

Yeah, that's all I need. A book. Right…..where'd I put down that Plato and Platypus book? Think I left it next to Duracell's box.

I walked back inside my room and found it right where I thought it would be. Picking it up, I turned to the page with the corner folded so I remembered where I left off. I like this book. Kinda too philosophical and up its own ass, but good. Sure as hell helps me understand my other books.

I'm on the chapter about free-will. It says that we don't have a choice about thinking whether or not we have free-will. It's like if there isn't free-will and we're all destined to do what we do, then we don't need morals. That we're all molded to do everything we do because of some outside force controlling us and that we can't help it. That would be a really great excuse to get out of trouble for what I did.

But I did what I did. I made everyone miserable through what I enjoyed. Am I sorry? Yes. Still….

I regret nothing.

I had fun. I'm not going to regret having fun. To this day, I don't regret doing it. I'm sorry for what everyone went through, but I don't regret doing it. They all did something to get on my radar, my friends, the students that I didn't target, my parents….they all did something to piss me off. That something made me want to hurt them. Not like I hurt those cats, no. I didn't want to set them on fire. I dreamt about setting their clothes on fire and watching them die while begging me for help, but I didn't want to.

It was fun. What can I say? What do they want me to say? Do they want me to apologize? Do they want me to make it up to them? Do they want me say I'm sorry for doing it? I'm sorry it happened to them, but I wasn't going to stop just because they asked me to. They got to have fun. I want to have fun too.

It's not like I was killing anyone; what was the problem? Did they expect me to stay like that goodie-goodie I used to be? I hate that. I used to be like that. USED TO. I changed. It happens. Get over it. The part of me that they miss so much isn't going to come back. I'm a pyromaniac, pyrophile, and I'm border lining psychopathy. And if when I turn 18 and Mr. Simmons says I'm a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever, then I'll be one.

Mr. Simmons says that the only things keeping me from being labeled a psychopath are my emotions and age. Otherwise, I fit the profile; charming, charismatic, manipulative (I got him to sneak me in Chinese food on more than one occasion), impulsive…..or is that sociopathic? I dunno. Whatever.

Hmm. Took him a long time to figure that one out. Everyone at Third Street figured that out years ago. For fucks sake, I hung a kindergartener over the edge of the school roof. Shouldn't take that long to figure out. I thought I was a psycho when I was twelve. At least now I actually have emotions about what I do. Back then, you couldn't pay be to give a damn about the harm I was causing other people. That's an improvement, I think.

Heh, I remember stealing Galileo, Gretchen's old handheld computer thing, and breaking it with a mallet in front of her. She loved that thing, and cried when I broke it. I laughed at her for being attached to such a stupid little toy. No remorse. No regret. I walked away feeling nothing for doing that.

I wonder how expensive that thing is. That was like, in the 90's. They have better computers that are smaller than that thing was. She's smart, she could build a new one.

Then there's my parents. I blame them for half of this. They raised me. They had to have something to do with the way I turned out. They have to.

That reminds me. I gotta go make a phone call.

It's been three weeks since I called home and had that little incident with my little brother. I haven't called back yet 'cause I wasn't sure if I would get through. This time, I want to make sure. It's the same day of the week and around the same time as the last time, so he should answer, right? Hope so.

I dialed my home phone number and waited as the phone rang.

…..

….

Someone picked up the phone.

"..Hello?" That's him. That's my little brother. And little voice. I told myself that I was going to answer back this time, and I'm going to.

"Hi," I said. "How are you?"

"…..M'fine," He answer.

"W-what's your name?" I asked him. I want to know what my little brother's name is. I don't want to keep calling him my little brother and not having a name for him. He's not answering. Have my-no, our parent found him on the phone?

"M'not 'posed to tell strangers my name," He said quietly. "Sowrry." Smart kid.

"No, it's okay. You're very smart for not telling me your name," I told him.

"Tank you, sir."

"You're very welcome," I said, keeping my voice from cracking. "It was nice talking to you, even though I don't your name. But I have to go now, okay?"

"'Kay," He said. "You call back soon?"

"…yeah. I'll call back soon. I promise. But I have to go now."

"'Kay. Bye-bye Mister Stranger."

"Bye-bye." He hung up the phone and I did the same soon after.

God…..why am I crying? I leaned my back against the wall next to the phone and slid down to the floor. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I folded my arms and buried my face in them. I'm crying my eyes out after talking to him. I haven't even met the kid and he's making me cry. Shit…

Shit, shit, shit!

"S'wrong Freckles?" I brought my face up and saw JoJo in front of me.

"Nothin'" I said after wiping the tears away from my eyes. "I'm fine."

"No you are not 'fine'," He said. Not taking my answer, he sat down next to me. Persistent bastard. "What's wrong?"

"I have a little brother. Found out when we broke out and I looked inside my house," I explained. JoJo only nodded. "Three weeks ago I called home and he picked up. I didn't say anything. I just called him and talked to him for a little bit. I don't know why I'm crying because of it."

""Cause you miss him," JoJo said. "You don't know him, and you don't even know what he looks like, but you miss him. 'cause he's your little brother and you want to be there for him but you're not and your missing out."

"…how the hell do you know so much?" I asked him. I forced a laugh out as a wiped the tears that were still pouring down my cheeks.

"I'm a older brother, I case you forgot," He said. "I have a little brother too. He's not with us anymore, but I'm still his brother and I know what it feels like. You'll be okay, Freckles. If I'm okay, you'll be okay."

"He wants me to call him again," I said, crying. I didn't even bother to try and stop myself. "He knows nothing about me. He doesn't know that I'm his brother, if he knows he has a brother, but he wants me to talk to him anyway. How am I supposed to respond to that?"

"Call him," Said JoJo. "That's all you can do."

Sorry for not updating last weekend guys. I've been extra busy with school. But as a gift for you all on by birthday, I put this chapter up!

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