A Life With Michael Jackson (fictional)
By: Mistah ME
disclaimer: I do NOT own Michael Jackson. (obviously)
Chapter 1
I sat on the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face. Why did Ma and Pa leave me here? Why did they push me away when I tried to follow them?My unknowing, six-year old mind couldn't grasp the fact that my parents were gone. So I sat there, waiting for them to return. Then, a pair of blurry penny loafers stopped in front of me. I looked up to see an African-American boy with the beginnings of an Afro who looked to be about in his pre-teens looking at me in concern.
"Are you OK? What's wrong?" He had a high-pitched voice. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened my mouth to unleash a torrent of questions.
"Who are you? What's your name? How old are you?" I forced myself to stop so that I could get some answers.
"I'm Michael and I'm thirteen. What's your name? Where are your parents?" He sat down next to me.
"I'm Melanie. I'm six. And I don't know where Ma and Pa went. Do you?" I was hoping that he would know where they were and would bring me to them so that they could explain that this was all a misunderstanding and tell me how worried they were about me.
"Sorry, Melanie. I don't know where your parents are… Actually, I'm kind of late for my rehearsal and Joseph might whip me. Do you want to come? I could help you find your parents later."
"OK!"
I reached up and grabbed his hand. He looked down at me in surprise and I smiled up at him. I trotted next to him until we reached what I figured to be the rehearsal building. Michael had me sit on the floor and he walked up to five other people. The oldest-looking man was holding a belt and he started yelling at Michael for being late and whipped him. I watched Michael take the beating without a word and felt guilt engulf me. It was my fault he was late. I hoped freverently that Michael wouldn't be too angry and made up my mind to wait until this "rehearsal" thing was over and apologize to him.
But things didn't go as I had planned. Michael messed up a dance move while singing a solo with a wired microphone in his hand and the man advanced, belt in hand, about to whip Michael. I couldn't just sit there and watch while Michael got whipped again. I ran over to the man and tugged on his sleeve. He looked down, furious.
"Who are you?" He practically growled. He frightened me, but I gathered up all of my courage from all the parts of my body and confronted him.
"I'm Melanie. Please don't whip Michael anymore." I tried to keep my head up as he glared at me, but it was probably one of the hardest things I had ever done in my short life.
"That's none of your business." He turned around and started walking again. I didn't think. I cried out.
"Please, sir! I was wondering if, instead of whipping Michael, you would whip me?" I froze; shocked at my words, and so were the other people in the room, by the looks on their faces.
The man stared at me, then, turned to see Michael's horrified expression. The man looked like he was actually considering my proposition. I shrunk back on myself, horrified at the possibilities. Then, the man shrugged, nodded, and walked over to my side. He raised the belt and I shut my eyes. At the first slash, I almost cried out, but I bit down on my tongue. By the last whip, the hot tears were, once again, streaming down my face. The man casually walked away.
"Next time you make a mistake, she gets the belt." He jabbed a finger at me.
I turned and crawled to the far side of the room, where I curled up in a ball. The music started again and, this time, I listened. It soothed my aching body and I felt like I could listen to it forever. I relaxed as the music got softer and my eyelids drooped lower and lower until I drifted off to sleep.
Why did the music stop?... My body's so sore... I'm so confused... Why is the ground moving?... I should probably open my eyes and see...
I peeled open my heavy eyelids and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Someone was carrying me. It was dark and we were outside. Curious, my hand reached up and groped around for a face. My fingers brushed across what felt like a nose and I started patting around the face, trying to see if I could find out who was carrying me. Then, a thought occurred to me and I froze. What if it was the man? I shrunk in on myself. He would be mad and whip me again! Then, we passed under a streetlight and I looked up to see Michael smiling down at me and holding back a chuckle. My fear instantly melted away and I smiled back.
"I'm sorry I made you late. Will you forgive me?" I hadn't apologized for the whipping yet.
"It's OK. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Where are we going? Is rehearsal over? Who were the other people in the room?" I released another torrent of questions.
"Rehearsal's over. We're going to my house. I didn't know where you live and it's really late, so I decided to bring you. The other people who were in the rehearsal room are my father, Joseph, and my brothers, Jackie, Jermaine, Marlon, and Tito. We're almost there. Just a few more minutes more."
"OK!" I looked up at Michael and smiled.
We got to Michael's house and I quickly realized that Michael had even more members of his family than he had mentioned before. He had left out the girls… And a boy.
Michael gave me his bunk on the bunk bed he shared with his brothers and slept on the floor with some blankets. It was very awkward sleeping in a bed with a bunch of strange boys sleeping around me, so I clambered off the bed in favor of a less awkward situation on the floor next to Michael. I snuggled in next to him and fell asleep feeling safe next to a boy I had known for less than a day.