May
"Still up, Mike?" called Joseph, as he spotted his daughter curled up on the couch, engrossed in a book.
"Mmmm," was the articulate response he received and chuckling at her deep concentration, he shrugged out of his jacket and collapsed into a squashy arm chair.
"Where's Mrs Baker?" he queried suddenly, looking around with a slight frown.
"I sent her home," stated Michaela blithely, not raising her eyes from the page.
"What?" exclaimed Joseph, his fingers freezing in the act of loosening his tie.
"Kidding," giggled Michaela, glancing up at her father, "she's on the phone in the kitchen."
"Very funny," replied Joseph dryly, pulling off his tie and opening the top button of his shirt, "so what are you reading now?
"Hmmm," he continued, as Michaela held the cover up for inspection, "I'm not sure complete psychological breakdown is an appropriate subject for a fourteen year old."
"I think Raskolnikov is a fascinating character actually," commented Michaela thoughtfully before fixing her father with a wary expression.
"So how did it go?"
"Well the good news is your teachers are all pleased with your progress," replied Joseph, "they all said you were very hard working, punctual, eager to help your colleagues..."
"But?" asked Michaela as her father's voice trailed off.
"They're concerned about your extra-curricular activities," finished Joseph, "or the lack thereof."
"I do stuff," interjected Michaela immediately, "I'm in the science club and I help out with the fourth grade math class and I put up the displays for Art class."
"That's just it though, Mike," explained Joseph gently, "as great as those things are, they're all academic. Maybe you should think about joining a different club, something a bit more fun, less serious."
"You think I don't have fun?" queried Michaela, her brow instantly furrowing.
"Sure you do," replied Joseph instantly, "when Sully drags you away from your homework."
"Listen," he added, as Michaela made to interrupt, "I'm not saying forget your work and head off and join a circus. Just don't forget to take time and enjoy yourself along the way."
"Well, I guess I could," mused Michaela, before getting up and grabbing her backpack from its slumped position by the front door.
"I saw this pinned up at the library and thought it looked interesting," she said, rooting around in the bag for several moments before pulling out a bright blue flyer.
"I'm sure it meets your non academic criteria," she added, throwing it casually into her father's hands before resuming her position on the couch.
"You sure about this?" said Joseph slowly, his eyes widening in surprise as he scanned the bold print.
"Why," replied Michaela, "Don't you think I'd be any good?"
"No, you can do anything you put your mind to, but all the other kids in the class…" he began.
"It'll be fine Dad," finished Michaela with a lopsided smile, "I don't mind if you don't."
"Mike! Your boyfriend's here."
"He's not my boyfriend, Alice," said Michaela for the umpteenth, rolling her eyes as the little blonde girl at her side burst into a fit of giggles before jumping up and heading for the door.
"There you go, Lily," she continued, knotting the laces on the sneakers again for good measures, "you're all set. Now go see if you can catch up to that crazy sister of yours."
"Thanks, Mike," giggled Lily, grabbing Michaela in an awkward hug, "see you next week!"
"Don't forget your shoes," laughed Michaela, lobbing the ballet pumps gently into the six year old's hands. Lily squealed excitedly as she successfully caught hold of the thick, pink ribbons and with a final smile at Michaela, she disappeared out the door, shoes swinging wildly.
Straightening up, Michaela grabbed her own bag from the bench. Yanking her sneakers out from their position between two hefty textbooks, she hastily slipped them on. In a flash, her hair had been let loose from the austere bun it had been struggling against for the past hour and with a sigh of relief, she jetted towards the exit.
Sully was waiting in his usual spot just around the corner from the studio. His initial reaction when Michaela had told him she was joining a ballet class was to stare blankly at her for several minutes before asking her if she was completely mad. His comments had earned him the trademark glare and twenty four hours of the silent treatment. Michaela's explanation, when he had apologised enough for her to start speaking to him again, was so simple he couldn't believe he hadn't guessed it: Harvard. Of course this class was just another part of the grand scheme to get into an Ivy league school. Michaela had maintained that she only needed to take the class for a month or so but what neither of them had counted on was how much she'd enjoy it. Despite dancing with students half her age, Michaela had thrived on the new challenges presented to her and within a month, she'd even been moved up a group. So Sully had had to resign himself to losing his best friend to a musty dance hall for two afternoons a week and as Michaela had religiously turned up every week to meet him after his music class, he had decided to return the favour.
"Hey, Sully," called Michaela, as she walked briskly over to where he stood, "so what's the plan?"
"I brought your bike," replied Sully, bending down to heave it up off the ground, "thought we could go for a ride."
"Sure," agreed Michaela readily, hoiking her backpack onto both shoulders to balance the weight before grabbing her bike from Sully's hands.
"Though no more racing along mud tracks," she added, "Dad flipped out at the trails we left in the kitchen last time."
"Hey, wait," called Sully, as Michaela sped up and overtook him, "look there!"
Michaela slowed to a stop and gazed in the direction he was pointing.
"It's just a cardboard box," she stated impatiently, "come on. I want to get home."
"It's moving," insisted Sully, throwing his bike down on the path and striding up the slope into the small copse where a dirty box was lying, half hidden in the grass.
"Maybe you shouldn't open it," began Michaela in a worried tone, as she dismounted and set off after Sully, "it could be …."
"Dangerous," she finished just as Sully pushed open the box and a small, grey duster launched itself at his chest.
