Sparrow's Song

By Robyn Graham

In today's world of shaky social structures, an elite education is invaluable. But, a body count just might be too much.

Jany Sparrow, a small woman, has secured a modest home in Sunny Point, Louisiana where the sun is hot, but the High School is the best.
While Jany is attending a parent-teacher conference, the high school was struck by a mass murder, and no one asks why. Now adored by the world as a result of saving lives while shielding her son from harm, she finds that a toy chest in her home is full of guns, and a bomb.
As a system of powerful residents pressures her to keep quiet. She discovers that most of the evidence no longer exists, and all of the shooters are believed to be dead. The investigation is set to be closed and she thinks this is almost over. But how can this ever be over?
Does she cause her sons to be imprisoned and turn it all to shame, that will last for generations? Or does she put on a fake smile and look away from all of the families of the victims and succumb to fame and fortune?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robyn Graham
• Release date: Nov 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370512751

Robyn Graham

In 1983 I was ten years old. Sitting on my bed with a friend during a sleepover we read each other’s letters. A pile of thirty or more that we had written to our boyfriends. You know, the type that one folds into shapes like origami, except sloppy with scribbles all over them. Damn, I miss that simplicity. The content was always easily summed up with, “I like you. Do you like me?”After reading one of mine twice, or maybe three times my friend presented me with a deceptive plan. “Write letters to my boyfriend?” She said. It took her a minute, but she explained her reasoning. Simply, she wanted her letters to sound like mine. I debated the moral implications of such a deceptive plan, thoroughly. But, was struck mostly by the feeling that had found something that I am good at. I did not write letters for my friend. As I felt, that may have caused damage to her relationship, even if he never knew. However, after this, I thought briefly about writing a story before I returned to the simplicity of grade school letters.I was a senior in High School before I sat down and focused on storytelling. Little did I know that I had been telling stories since right after I learned to speak? I believed for quite some time that vivid description was as important to everyone as it was to me. I may have failed to focus on improving my skills yet, was always doing the job of a storyteller, because that is just who I am.

Book preview

Sparrow’s Song

By

Robyn Graham

Published by Robyn Graham at Smashwords

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and no part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form without the prior written permission of the author and publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, or if you are reading it but did not purchase it, please go to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy or a copy for each recipient you wish to share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

www.robyngrahamonline.com

Copyright 2016

Dedicated to:

Red Graham

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

This August day, there was a stillness in nature as if even the insects had chosen to lay down in the shade. August was always the hottest month in Sunny Point, Louisiana; the month in which the people’s tolerance of the draining heat began to wear down. And this particular morning, everything seemed to struggle more than ever. The sun beat down on clothed human shoulders causing a sensation like the beginning of a sunburn. Even water escaped as it evaporated from the sidewalk the instant it was sprayed. Dogs lay panting under trees; yet the people moved from one point to the next accomplishing their tasks even though drained.

Little Jany Sparrow was one of these people.

She took a deep breath of hot air and tried not to focus on the heat. She needed all her strength and knew it. Today she was meeting with her oldest son, Jessie’s, teachers and other school staff about his future. She pushed forward working to focus on the task ahead. All that was around her seemed to simmer as she pushed. The twenty concrete steps that led to the entrance of her son’s high school seem to multiply as she moved toward the front entrance.

A janitor worked outside in sweat soaked clothes. He balanced himself high above her on a ladder, repainting the sign which hung over the entrance. Jany wondered how he managed not to pass out from the heat. Remarkably, his hand moved smoothly as he revitalized the lettering. Everyone else outside kept their heads down as they moved from one air conditioned area to the next. Jany focused on reaching her destination like most people. But, she did notice the dragon mascot he had just finished repainting. The eyes of the dragon were now a fresh blood red.

Inside the school, she began shaking a little as the cool indoor air chilled the sweat that covered her. The armpits of her brown uniform smock were visibly wet with sweat for the first time in six months, since she began work at the textile factory. She found the familiar meeting room without guidance and without stopping to check in at the office, which she normally did. The door was unlocked, and Jany let herself in. Inside, she maneuvered around boxes of sports uniforms, equipment, and decade old trophies and sat at the large oval table. The assaulting smell of bleach and sweaty socks became less noticeable as her breathing regulated in the more reasonable indoor temperature. Sitting, and enjoying the chilled sweat on her skin, she found the ability to relax, briefly.

Principal Norman entered the room solemnly, restricting his eyes from connecting with hers. The other members of administration and teachers began to compile. Within a few minutes Coach Earnest and Mrs. Smith entered together, each of them avoiding eye contact just as Principal Norman had.

Most of the teachers and administrators made small talk. Mrs. Smith, Home Economics Teacher, commented on the new uniforms for the factory and how they were more professional looking than the last uniforms. Jany agreed, even though she had been hired six months ago and had no memory of seeing any prior uniforms. She would have usually said what she thought but this time, she let the conversation flow just to be polite. The Biology teacher, Gerald, as he insisted on being called, was visibly wet with sweat piped in at how they seemed to be hot. Jany remembered her sweaty armpits. Gerald took a deep breath and looked at the floor for a moment.

The Regional District Disciplinary Officer was the last person to enter the room and the only face unfamiliar to Jany. She had received a letter in the mail the day before the meeting informing her that he would attend the meeting. However, she was not informed of his size. He was at least six foot eight inches tall; his hair was perfectly black, silky. His eyes were a pale green with a glowing quality that held Jany’s attention. She knew he would make all final decisions concerning her son’s future at the school. He took his seat directly across from Jany and changed the mood from excessively polite chit chat to introduction of the meeting. The instant he was seated the polite hum of small talk ceased.

He spoke, Ms. Sparrow, my name is Bobby Arro and I am the Regional District Disciplinary Officer for the Parish. He rose to his feet and extended his arm. Jany mimicked by standing and extending her arm upward to shake his hand, looking more like a little girl shaking the hand of a stranger than two adults. Jany stood exactly 5 foot tall and was accustomed to looking up at people when she shook hands. Yet, this handshake was not like others. The man seemed like a giant. His appearance was striking. However, this was only the part of him that a person could easily photograph. With his mouth in the position of a polite smile, he peered at her as if she were cattle or maybe just a mouse. His size and physical attractiveness pulled her attention, his mannerisms, however, gave Jany the impression that he could reach over the table and snap her neck, and no one would dare object.

The massive man continued to speak, As you know I asked for this meeting to discuss your son’s future in our school district. Initially, we had planned to have sort of a brainstorming session. To prepare I have spent the last week looking through your son’s disciplinary file and I have come to some major conclusions. His eyes widened, and he kept going. It is only August, thirty days since the beginning of the school year and we have already found several incidents of conflict. Mr. Arro stopped and flipped through a file folder. He continued, Jessie, Oh, what was his last name, Oh Jessie Brewer was suspended three times for fighting and cutting class already this year. I will hear what his teachers have to say, as well as his principal, but I see this school is not what is best for your son. He simply cannot get along with others.

Two of his teachers began to speak at the same time. Mrs. Smith, was the most assertive and continued. He is a good kid, shows great potential for my home economics projects but also he speaks intellectually about math and science. It would be a shame not to look at the whole picture. Everyone sitting at the oval table sat quietly for a second.

Mr. Arro took a gulp of water as the teacher spoke then interrupted her with the announcement, He may speak well about mathematics, but the fact is, he has been suspended twice for fighting in Algebra,

Mr. Lowes, Jessie’s math teacher, leaned forward and made his presence known. That is my class. Jessie shows great potential, and when we speak after class, he talks about attending technical college. He could do it. He should do it. The problems are the social pressures from the other students. He does not fit in here and finds the need to assert himself towards these students while in the classroom. Mr. Lowes stopped abruptly as he realized his words only supported the case to expel Jessie.

Jany made her plea. I can't afford private school. I pay more money than I can afford to live in this school district because it is the best school for my sons. I don’t have the money for this, especially when the problem is simply that Jessie is not handling horrid social pressures perfectly. She raised her right hand as if to stop an interruption. I have tried, and I have asked family for help. If he is expelled from this school, our only option is the recovery program. This program is not what he needs. My son is smart and hard working. It could not be clearer that most of these fights and disruptions are initiated by others and when all evidence is reviewed all witnesses side with their little groups.

Jany’s plea ended when Mr. Arro raised is hand and declared with authority, You can't know that for sure.

Jany’s voice began to crack as the tears she restricted began to run down her throat. Yes, I do. Well, regardless of some other students unconfirmed motives, in all of these gross disturbances this one student is found at fault to some degree, Mr. Arro said.

Tears began to flow as Jany was defeated again by partial documentation.

Everyone straightened their bodies like soldiers at attention as Principal Norman started a moderate and somewhat controlled rant. OK, I have had enough. This is a good kid, and it is our responsibility to do our best for him. If the social pressures at this school were not a factor, this boy would be a model student, on his way to becoming and engineer or a doctor.

That is irrelevant piped in Mr, Arro.

Principal Norman objected with, All students are relevant at this school. We cannot ignore that if this student is expelled, we have failed. We also cannot ignore that his family isn’t able to find another way for him to be properly educated.

We have discussed this, Dr. Norman! interrupted Mr, Arro.

The sound of an explosion assaulted them.

Stunned for a few seconds, Jany closed her eyes. As she opened them, two teachers were lowering themselves to the floor, one was crying. The others all bunched behind the door; one screamed: Be quiet! In the front of this huddle at the door stood the leader, Principal Norman, half erect and lifting his phone to his ear announcing, It is happening.

Jany stayed in her chair and gripped the armrests, gripping in repetition with nearby gunfire. Then another explosion, this one was not as close as the first.

Where are my boys? She said. She began to analyze their schedules quickly. It is 12:47 and 5th period. Jessie just got to study hall and Eric is in the 9th-grade wing, in the chemistry lab.

Jessie is closer than Eric, four doors down the hall and to the right. She reached into her purse and pulled out her keys and grasped the connected canister of pepper spray, popping open the buckle like an expert marksman. She rose to her feet, completely oblivious of her belongings spilling to the floor.

Principal Norman and Jany looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. She moved toward the door while he stood still with his back against the wall.

When she reached the door and grasped the handle, the Coach grabbed Jany’s hand, preventing her from opening the door. Nothing was said. Then due to his insistence, she let go of the door handle and pressed the top button on the pepper spray and aimed it at his eyes. Coach pressed both of his hands to his face. Jany opened the door without any further restriction.

Smoke prevented her from seeing where she was going. But she knew the way: four doors down and to the right. She made it to the study hall and found the door locked. She heard more rapid gunfire and two more explosions. These sounds were further away. However, the last of the blasts still shook the glass to the doors at the front entrance. She yelled through the metal door, Jessie, Let’s Go.

The door was solid and unmovable. The killers could have heard her cry but, reality set in that Jessie would not be able to hear her. The classroom was inaccessible. With no way to open the door or to even be heard by Jessie, she was blocked. Without options, she sucked in a few smoke filled breaths with her head tilted backward grinding her teeth and made an internal plea that God would just open the door. The door opened. Two large teenage boys threw Jessie at her like a rag doll. Jessie’s nose was bleeding. He wobbled as he struggled to stand, completely unaware of the blood coming from his nose.

Jessie was small in comparison to his peers, yet, still taller than his mother. His hair was black, blue eyes that bordered on majestic, a perfect centerpiece to a face that looked to be without imperfection. Girls seemed to like him unless they became envious of the way he looked. Even occasional blemishes were less noticeable because attention was always drawn to his eyes, he was beautiful.

He wore a light fleece jacket every day despite the dangerous heat. Otherwise, his clothing seemed appropriate until he was compared to his peers who were always up to date on fashion.

Out, Out! she repeated as she grabbed the sleeve to his jacket, slung him toward the front door and began a quick steady pace moving deeper into the school towards the 9th Grade wing and Eric. Then, just as suddenly as the first explosions, gun shots came from the front entrance area which she had just commanded Jessie exit. He turned around and was now next to her. She had intended for Jessie to escape the chaos. But, he was now blocked from exiting.

She flung him once more as another series of gunshots were heard. But this time toward her as she ducked into the entry way to a supply closet. They were just hiding from the sounds of gunfire which came from the front of the school. Jessie looked like a strong angel to her with his bloody nose. They had time to lock eyes as Jessie pulled a gun from his jacket pocket.

She knew the gun. It was a .357 Magnum, blue steel with a wooden grip that her ex-husband had purchased when Jessie was a baby.