Castaways || Michael Clifford [Completed]

Chapter Ten

"Will you stop eating all my strawberries? You even devoured my sugar! Michael!" I shout from the kitchen, immediately hearing Michael's snickering from the next room. "When I befriended you, I didn't expect my food supply to fall like the Roman Empire."

"They had their strong years," Michael says, walking into the kitchen while carrying a bag of Doritos.

"My point yet the empire still fell. Like my stock of food." I snatch the bag from his hands and he immediately pouts.

"How rude," he says with a cheesy finger in his mouth. He licks off his other fingers before wiping them on his pants. "I thought you loved me."

"You also think a zombie apocalypse is more likely than an alien invasion," I say, folding the Dorito bag and putting it back in the cupboard. I guess I should just go to the store. I grab my keys off the counter and pat my pocket to check for my phone. "Let's go, Mikey. We're going to the store."

Michael throws his head back and groans. "I don't wanna."

"Too bad. You eat my food, you help get more." I grab his arm as I pass him and pull him out of the house. Michael doesn't even bother to fight me.

"Have I ever mentioned how much you annoy me?" Michael asks as he shields his eyes from the afternoon sun.

"Back to you, food thief," I say. I pull open my car door and Michael opens his. I hop in and start the car, putting on my sunglasses and putting my hair in a ponytail. I can't stand to drive with a face full of hair.

"You take forever to even pull out of the driveway," Michael grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. I roll my eyes and shift gears, pulling out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry I prefer not to die today. I'm just taking precautions."

"So since you dragged me out of the house, are you going to buy me McDonald's?" Michael's favorite place is McDonald's I swear. That and pizza would sum up his eating habits along with snack food.

"Or we could get Chinese takeout?" I suggest.

"If you pay for it, sure." Michael laughs, reaching out a hand to turn on the radio. I don't stop him. He does this every time we get in the car. Say It Now by We The Kings starts playing. "Are you kidding me?"

"Shut up, you know you like them," I say.

"True," Michael says. "We wanted it all. It hurts more than ever we can't give up now."

"Way to go Michael," I say, laughing. "Whatever you need to say, say it now."

"Dang Rarity. A plus singing right there," Michael says. I smile and shake my head.

"Oh no, you sing so much better than me. Trust me," I say. Michael blushes and looks out the window. I pull into Walmart's parking lot and take off my sunglasses. "Let's go, band boy."

"Shush it Rarity. This boy takes his time," Michael says but gets out of the car anyways. "Besides," he slams his door shut, "I'm punk rock." He sashays away from me leaving me shaking my head at his back.

"Little piece of cotton fluff," I mutter before jogging to catch up with Michael. "Where did you learn to sashay like that?"

"Oh you know. I was a Victoria Secret runway model. I got kicked off for being too...stunning. Blinded the audience," Michael says, pretending to check his nails that are bitten to stumbs. His nervous habit is biting his nails and playing with all those bracelets around his wrists.

"That's too bad. I would've loved to see you strut your stuff like a proud peacock," I say. Michael smirks when he looks at me.

"I can arrange that," Michael says. I roll my eyes before I shove his arm. He laughs as he stumbles and straightens himself.