Book 4- 1968 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 9- Stress

                Chapter 9- Stress

                Date: Thursday, May 9, 1968

                Time: 3:34PM

                MICHAEL'S POV

"Man, I've got so much homework," I complained. "Look at all of this! I got multipul- mulpli- multiplications, and a three-paragraph essay, and then, we both have to write our science terms! This is crazy!"

"I know," Kayla said indifferently. "But I can help with your homework tonight, if you want."

"Uhm, I think I'll be fine. But thank you for offerin'," I said, adding a goofy Southern accent towards the end.

"Well," Kayla started, "On a brighter note, we only have another month of school left. After this, we'll be fifth graders. Can you believe that, Michael?"

"No... not really," I sighed. "We're gonna be in fifth grade. We're like big kids, almost! And next year, we'll be going to Jermaine's middle school. Won't that be something else? We'll be big sixth graders in just about a year."

"Wow..." she drawled. "It's kinda... Kinda hard to believe that we've gone this far, huh? I mean, I remember going to school with you and Marlon and Jermaine when we were in second grade." She laughed briefly. "And I was supposed to be in first!"

"Yeah, I know," I exclaimed. "But you were so smart and stuff, you know? You were making good grades all year, and you still haven't made much of anything below A's. Something else..."

"Hum... Well, I guess you're maybe right, I dunno."

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Ah, you're taking the compliment, then?"

"Pshhhh, not really... Maybe," she replied. The corners of her mouth twitched, as if she was trying to fight the urge to smile.

I could spot my house from about twenty feet ahead of me. "I hope we aren't late today. Joseph was really reaming us out the other day, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, I know," Kayla repeated. "I really didn't like the slapping part much... Not really."

"Amen..." I agreed. I wanted to change the mood of our conversation, so I shouted, "Hey, wanna race me? I'll bet I can win!"

"Oh, yes?" She questioned. "Better wish you never said that!" She bolted off to the door, chuckling along the way. But there was no way I could have allowed her to beat me in a race. I dashed ahead, feeling quicker than lightning, and beat her easily in five seconds.

As she caught up with me, she yelled, "How do you do that?!"

"I'm talented," I bragged, sticking my tongue out. "The top in P.E."

"Yeah, yeah," she whined. "Don't rub it in...... Hey, what's that?"

"What's what?" I asked, smirking. "What is the word..."

"Michael, I'm serious," she said, her expression changing instantly. "There's something on your finger. Here, lemme check it, please." She slowly pulled my left hand towards her, examining it closely.

All of a sudden, I felt like some sort of a science project. "Um, what are you doing, Kayla?" I asked cautiously.

"I saw something," she breathed, barely audible. "It was on your middle finger, like a dot or something. It's... right there. See?" She pointed to a little, itty-bitty, tiny, unnoticeable whitish speck that I automatically deemed as dust.

"It's dust. See?" I used my free hand to wipe my finger. Unfortunately, that little speck decided to stay on. My brows furrowed with confusion. I tried wiping again, a little harder this time. Still, nothing seemed to happen to the light speck.