Fly Away (Michael Jackson)

thirty two

Michael and I walked up to the door, newspaper in front of our faces, and knocked on Claire's door.

To be honest, I was a little afraid. Michael was just telling me how Joseph always told him to keep his distance from fans like Claire. The over obsessive, and crazed.

Michael just wanted to do it this time. One time wouldn't hurt would it? And this girl is only like... 17 years-old? I think.

The door never opened, so we rang the doorbell, which seemed to work better, because it only took a matter of minutes for someone to open the door.

It opened slowly, making that creepy, high-pitch, screeching sound.

"Hello?" a young female voice answered. That must've been her.

Michael cleared his throat, "Is Claire home?" he sounded creepy, which made me laugh a little.

The girl paused, "Why do you two have newspaper in front of your faces? Who are you? What do you--"

Michael lowered his newspaper just under his nose, and grinned heavily.

She froze, and fell to the floor, hyperventilating. She started to hold her chest, trying to manage her breathing. Eventually she started crying...hysterically. Wow.

Michael bent down to her aid, "Whoa! Whoa! Chill out, it's only me," he took her hands off her face.

She finally opened her eyes, and looked to Michael, "Holy sh-t, you're real!" she began to play with his curls.

At that point, I intervened. Those curls, are MINE.

"Hey, sweetie. Michael and I read your letter, and loved it, so I decided that we visit you!" I said, trying not to rip her hand off his (my) curls.

She continued to stare at his face, and play with his curls. A moment later, she finally acknowledged I spoke to her, and responded, "Who, are you?" with an attitude that Michael didn't seem to notice.

I coughed, clearing my throat. She was going to die right now, "Oh, me? I am Michael's fi-an-cé." I said slowly to her.

She shot up, releasing the curls. Her eyes were bigger than watermelons.

"F-F, Fiancé?!" she turned to Michael, "Since when were you dating anyone?!"

Oh please, it's not like he cheated on you.

"I've made it clear that I am seeing someone..." Michael nodded.

"What?!" her arms spread out. "Um, can you two come inside?" she was scaring me with her body language and tone of voice.

Michael thought about it for ONE second, then answered, "Okay," and began to walk into Claire's house.

"No," I reached for his arm, but walked so fast.

It's them legs. Ah.

He walked in anyway, pretty sure he heard me. I didn't want to walk in, and Claire didn't want me in there either. She was just about to shut the door, gladly, when Michael turned around and stopped her.

"Wait! Bonnie, get over here!" he waved his hand.

I groaned to myself, "Coming!"

*

I do not feel safe.

Claire took us upstairs in her room, and Michael...was...everywhere. Every single inch of her room was covered in a Michael quote, or picture.

"Where are your parents?" I asked her.

She heard me loud and clear, but because Michael didn't, she acted like she didn't, and turned to me, rolling her eyes at me. She. Is. Going. To. Get. It. Michael was amazed and/or shocked by the million posters.