Book 5- 1969 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 16- The Warm Fuzzies

                Chapter 16- The Warm Fuzzies

                Date: Wednesday, September 10, 1969

                Time: 11:39AM

                MICHAEL'S POV

 One, two, three people over there. My finger hid under the table, gliding to each person as I counted them. They seem to be having fun. Actually, what is it that they're doing? It looks like - what are they shoving down the milk carton? Oh, that's just nasty. No-one's gonna drink that, right?

My eyes averted to another table. One, two, three, four, five girls. They're all laughing. And pointing, too... Right in my direction. Out of curiosity, I peeked behind me to check if there was anything peculiar. The arithmetic teacher towered over me, his gaze simply stoic. He expectantly tapped his foot a couple times.

In an attempt to hide a little of my nervousness, I stuttered, "Hi, Mr., erm, Smith. How're you this afternoon?"

"Mmm," was his response. "Just seeing how you are, Michael."

The use of my full first name made me anxious. Back at Garnett, everyone would just refer to me as "Mike". They were much more casual and lax than the people here, at Gardner. Every person, including the teachers, had rather stiff personalities; they would not relax or become familiar with the student. The drastic change in behavior was quite a bit for me to handle.

"Just fine, thank you," I squeaked. "And you?"

"I'm quite content, thank you. I was just a little... curious as to why you were sitting only with, uh, Kaylee."

"Kayla." I was quick to correct. "Her name is Kayla." I looked over at my best friend, who forced a meek grin.

"Okay. You know you can socialize with the other children, right?"

I didn't like the way Mr. Smith was speaking to me. It appeared to me as though he was down-talking, almost patronizing me, as if I were not capable of realizing I could put myself out. In fact, I really tried to put myself out, but every time I successfully did so, no-one wanted to talk or play. As a result, I ended up spending a lot of my time alone or with Kayla.

Speaking of Kayla, it seemed as though her luck with friend-making had made a little turn for the better. Of course, she was as bashful as could be, but some of the girls spoke with her and one even traded lunches with her in the first week of school. Unlike the kids at Garnett, she was generally accepted among the pupils here.

In the nicest voice I could muster up, I muttered, "Yeah."

Mr. Smith quit speaking to me then. I figured that I gave him enough hints to point out that I wasn't all that interested in making small talk with him at the given moment. Satisfied, I turned back in my seat and made little eye contact with Kayla, who was absently gnawing the crust of her peanut butter sandwich.

In an attempt to take up time, I searched through my lunchbox in hopes of discovering an uneaten cracker or maybe an apple. However, when I scavenged through the empty snack bags and used mayonnaise packets, all I was able to salvage were some crumbs from a rather sad-looking tuna sandwich that had already been consumed.

Sighing, I pushed my box away. It wasn't like I was really hungry, anyways. I just needed something to take up the remaining twenty minutes of lunch so the rest of the school day could drag on. Then, I would at least be able to head back to the Marriott Inn and maybe practice a few of my dance moves for an upcoming show.

I had to face it: I was bored. There seemed to be nothing to do. Kayla was busy haing lunch and finishing homework in which she had forgotten about. It was just Kayla and I sitting at the table, for no-one wanted to really sit around us and have chit-chat with the "new kids". On top of that, the seat was rather uncomfortable, and I was getting a cramp.