Coming Soon! (Don't ya just love me right now:3)

Prologue

Seventeen Years Ago

Thriller Era (Genevieve)

          I walked up his steps slowly. What am I going to do? How could I have been so stupid?!  I thought this all in my head, while contemplating what I should do. Michael can't handle this; he's too young to have a baby. He's too talented, too driven. He needs to focus on his work.

          Maybe I shouldn't tell him at all. No, no he deserves to know about this, it is his child.

          What if he doesn't love me anymore? I smacked my forehead. Ginny, stop it, this is ridiculous! Of course he'll still love you! You don't lose love over a baby!

          I straightened my posture and rung the bell. He was at the door in seconds. He was in a pair of light blue jeans, penny loafer and a Disney sweater. His skin was caramel, his brown doe eyes shining, as his arms folded in front of him, leaning against the door frame. He was smirking.

          "I was wondering how long it'd take for you to ring the bell" he said with a slight chuckle. I smiled lightly. But this was no time for games; we needed to talk, now.

          "Michael, I need to talk to you about something very serious." I say this nervously with an unsure tone. But I know that I meant it. This must have an effect on him though, because his expression changes slightly, as he guides me inside.

          He seems to be in a Victorian phase, because everything about this condo seems very old, and from the Dark Ages.

          "So, what's on your mind Ginny?" he asks, leaning forward on the couch.

          "Do you remember 2 weeks ago?" he scrunches up his eyebrows and squints his eyes, making him age a few years. Then you see a light bulb go off in his head, and he grins.

          "Now how could I forget that?" he responds in his light, feathery, childlike voice. I shift in my arm chair that's across from the couch, the coffee table separating the two.

          "Michael..."

          "Genevieve." His eyes darken a bit.

          "What exactly did you need to tell me, and what does it have to do with 2 weeks ago?" he inquires. I sigh, thinking of ways to get around the interrogation.

          "You really can't figure it out Michael?" I ask innocently. I know how much he hates games, but my tongue is somehow bent on being secretive.

          "You know I hate games" he responds, well actually growls. It was terrifying. I groan inwardly.

          "I just don't know how to tell you--"

          "Spit it out!" I jump a bit from him yelling. I must have stressed him out.

          "I'm pregnant, Michael" I say quietly, looking at my small hands. The room goes quiet for a few minutes. Pure silence.

          "How long have you known?" he asks suddenly. I look up.

          "I said--"

          "I heard you. Only yesterday. I went to the doctor, because I hadn't been feeling well lately." I hear him sigh. He seems deflate a bit from his usually upbeat self and it scared me. He looks up at me, gets up and walks over. He's taller than average, so he towers over me. He grabs my two small hands in his big ones, and looks at me with his big doe eyes. He's humming something, a familiar song. His eyes seem to enlarge and his mouth seems to be twitching with a smile. He had started swaying back and for, moving both our bodies in rhythm. He motions for me to get up and pulls me up into his arms. He sways us back and forth and I start to put in effort. Soon we're dancing. Back and forth, back and forth.

          He starts singing the song real quietly.

          "Babe, I got you babe, I got you babe" I smile. Sonny and Cher, such a lovely couple. He stopped singing after a minute.

          "Remember Ginny, I got you, okay? Just call me name, and I'll be there." I back away a bit. He's smiling a cheesy grin.

          "Oh, hush!"

          "Hey, you know that was perfect." I giggle a bit, wrapping my arms tighter around him.

          All I wanted was for this to last a lifetime.

Seventeen Years Later

Dangerous Era

Ella AKA Lorde

          I sit quietly in the bright yellow cab, watching California rush by. I sigh inwardly. I know I'm going to hate this particular state.

          I shift a bit in the worn yellow seat. I've been in here for an hour and a half, thinking. My mum said I could stay with my aunt, but I had other plans.

          "How far from Santa Barbra, monsieur?" I ask the cab driver lowly. He's from a French background, so I've been pulling out words to get to him. He turns his California tan face towards me.

          "Fifteen minutes, Madame." I smile. The driver is actually quite young, probably in his mid-twenties or so, but then again, so do half the forty year old stars that live here so...

          Enough of that, I say to myself, straightening out jeans and heroes shirt. I need to mentally prepare myself. He might not want to see me, or might be surprised by my looks. I sigh. I'm sporty, so it was broken arm, then broke ankle, then sprain calf muscle, tear ACL, and finally decided to just be musical, like I've always been, so I wouldn't accidently take my own life. I groan. That meant no more football, Madame. It is soccer for you Americans.

          Yes I'm aware that you can hear my thoughts and dialogue, I am writing them down so...

          Oh my god, what if he doesn't believe me?! He could think I'm lying! No Ella, no, it says it right there on the birth certificate, Ella Yelich O'Connor. My mother is Genevieve Yelich. He has to believe me. Then again, I look nothing like him. I look down at my small hands. I resemble my mother more, with my sharp facial features. That's it, however I apparently also resemble a freaking falling angel, and that's not a compliment. I don't take it well being compared to Satan or Lucifer or whatever you would refer to him as. It's honestly insulting.

          My brown hair falls over my eyes as the California sun pushes through my window, a smile tickles my lips. Okay, California isn't that bad.

          "Madame, we are at the gates!" the driver says rather excitedly. I smirk as I look at the Neverland gates. It looks like something straight of my sketch book. I look a little past it to see the luscious, unending, greenery. I can see the amusement rides sprinkled around everywhere, giving the place a theme park charm. My enchantment is ruined by a booming voice.

          "Who are you and how can I help you?" the feminine voice says tiredly. Monsieur is opening his mouth to speak, when I stop him with my hand. I give him a reassuring look.

          "S'il vous plaît laissez-moi m'occuper de ce monsieur. Il ne prendra pas plus d'une minute" I ask him in French. He nods quickly, letting me out.

          I climb out of the petite transport and walk up to the microphone.

          "Good evening ma'am, I'm Ella Yelich O'Connor, my mother actually used to know Mr. Jack--"

          "Honey, Mr. Jackson does not have time for nonsense. So unless you've scheduled a visit, I suggest you leave." I feel my heart drop a bit. But I need to see him, so I'm going to have to pull out my acting skills.

          I start sniffing a bit, letting my tears flow silently for a bit. I put my hands over my face, to smudge my liner. I start sobbing audible, pitiful enough to get Monsieur out of the car to comfort me. Good, it is working.

          Then I pull out the finale, hysterics. I howl in sorrow, making sure the whole house can hear me. I let my knobby knees collapse, letting me fall over on the ground. As my act comes to a close, I lie on the ground, now silently sobbing, my legs in a mid scissor kick, my hair flowing everywhere. By now I've gotten every servant out here, telling me to go inside and see him. I smile softly. Suckers probably assumed it was hormones instead of wit.

          The servants carried all my stuff inside, as I held on tight to my certificate. It was my only evidence.

          One petite, young maid led me to Mr. Jackson. She had long curly auburn hair, but fair skin. It was rather refreshing to see compared to Californian tan. Her bright blue eyes look up at me.

          "Here you are, he should be in there alone. The kids are already in bed." I nod. I knew he had kids.

          I waltz in carefully and quietly, putting on my ‘watching you' face. He turns around slowly in his swivel chair. He meets my blue green eyes with his brown ones. I gulp to keep from crying. He shifts a bit before he speaks.

          "I told them no visitors today."

          "I know."

          "Why are you here? I don't remember meeting you ever." I sigh a bit as I straighten out my shirt. I breathe in deeply.

          "Mr. Jackson, do you remember a woman named Genevieve Yelich?" I ask transferring my weight on to my right foot. His eyes lighten up a bit, his pale skin, similar to mine, illuminates with a glow. A smile etches his lips. He gets up from his chair as he walks up to me. I have to look up because he's like six inches taller than me.

          "How do you know Ginny?" he asks smirking. He knows he's intimidating me. I keep my frown though.

          "She's my mother actually." He raises an eyebrow slightly and folds his arms. I finally notice that he's wearing his red, satin, button-up, black slacks and penny loafers. His hair was tied back in a half tail by a scrunch.

          "Miss a--"

          "Yelich O'Connor." His eyes flash in anger.

          "Miss O'Connor, I do not appreciate lying, I have no time for it." I breathe to keep from getting angry.

          "Sir, I have my birth certificate right here. She's just as much my mother as you are my father" I say coyly. He cuts his eyes at me, away from the paper I had handed to him. He sighs audibly before answering.

          "Miss O'Connor, as believable as this is, I don't think I can believe you. We have no resemblance what's so ever and you're..." He hesitates for a minute. I narrow my eyes at him.

          "And I'm white, with an Australian accent and the face of a fallen angel, right?" I inquire. He looks at me in astonishment.

          "I said, RIGHT!" I yell at him. He looks like he's searching for words but I don't give a chance to speak.

          "All THREE, of your children don't look anything close to black! Paris has brown hair blue and a small nose, so does Prince! Don't even get me started on Blanket! The boy looks Hispanic!" I yell in fury. He grabs my arms, attaching them to my sides seething. He stares at me and glare back. This lasts for a few minutes. He sighs.

          "Genevieve Yelich right?" he asks softly, still holding me. I nod slowly, still glaring. He grins.

          "You're the product of Ginny?" I nod again rolling my eyes. He grunts, making me squirm.

          "Yeah, I can see that." I brighten a bit, a smile tickling my lips.

          "Really?"

          "Really, Ella." My eyes widen a bit. I quickly conclude he got that from the certificate. He shifts away from me and lets me go.

          "Come with me, you have explaining to do." I follow him from his small office into a family room. He gestures for me sit on the couch and I do. He sits next to me.

          The family room looked a lot like one of a monarchy's leader. It was very authorative, yet welcoming. It was Renaissance in a room. He turns towards me.

          "Go ahead explain why you're here" he says quietly. Okay then, I'll explain.

          "Well, I'm actually supposed to be recording in Los Angles for an album. I was supposed to stay with my aunt since my mum has to work in New Zealand. My aunt does knows I'm here, but not my mum." He nods quickly, thinking. I play with my hands.

          "Ella, I can't let you stay here without your mothers permission." I inhale sharply as I move away my straightened out curls.

          "Mr. Jackson, with all due respect, I really want to stay for the little amount of time I have. It will only be for a year. I just want to get to know my father." He sighs, putting one large hand on his forehead. I hold my breath, holding up one finger. He sighs again, smiling softly.

          "Fine, one full twenty-four hour day. But if anything goes wrong because of you, you will leave, immediately." I squeal and strangle him in a hug. He giggles.

"I believe the workers must've already settled you in. Michellé will take you to your guest room." I smile and hug him again. He laughs again, returning the hug. I sway when I hug, so I almost tipped over. I let him go and go upstairs, spotting the maid with long, wavy auburn hair and bright blue eyes from earlier. She giggles when she sees me.

          "Ah knew Mr. Jackson 'ood let theur stay. Everyone 'eear likes theur already." I laugh. I won't be the only one with an accent here. She sounds British and speaks fluent Yorkshire.

          "Thank theur ma'am! I'm glad 'e let uz stay considerin ah sa' i' eur smelly taxi for twoa 'ours ta be 'eear!" I respond in laughter. I speak eur lahl bit o' Yorkshire missen.

          She leads me to my room, one bouncy step at a time. I like her already.

          "Good neet Miss!" she chirps.

          "Good neet!"

I walk around my room a bit. It looks a lot like the living room, design wise. I see that my clothes are already put away in the drawers and closet. I find my Ninja Turtle PJ pants and a black tank to switch into.

I finally lay down in my new bed and sleep.

Ella

          I woke up the next day to a blinding light. After recovering from morning amnesia, I see that one of the maids has laid out an outfit for me. That was kind of them.

          I get out of bed and look for my Batman slippers. I slip them on and walk across the cool wooden floor onto the ice cold tile of the bathroom. As my eyes finally open, I let out a small screech. My eyeliner was smudged, my eyelashes were clumped, and any face make up was powdered and clumped. My hair was still straight but messy. I sigh. I'll just leave my face bare today.

          I strip down quickly and run the shower. After fifteen minutes, I get out, lotion (it smells like heaven), then put on a robe to get my clothes.

          "Miss! Breytfast is ready!" Michellé says through my door.

          "Okay, thank theur! I'll be daahn i' twenty minutes!"

          I change into the outfit they laid out. Black and white t-shirt with bottom folded skinny jeans and high-tops. I walk away into the bathroom. I groan. My skin's too pale to leave bare. I'll have to wear makeup.

          When I finish, I head down the spiral shaped stairs to meet Michellé.

          "Breyt fast is dis way. Today is Eggs, French Toast 'n an option o' teeur or mafted chocolate. Is 'a' alreight Miss?" I nod. We walk down a long, paintings decorated hallway. There were paintings of children landscapes and Michael. I smile a bit. It's interesting to see.

          We walk slowly into the kitchen to be greeted by Michael and his family. Blanket, in a sky blue footsie, is the first to see me. He smiles a smile shockingly similar to his dad's.

          "Good morning" he says, now getting out of his seat to come and greet me. He had astonishingly long, straight, black hair that went almost to his nonexistent waist. He stuck his hand out to shake.

          "Hi, I'm Ella, but you can call me Elle" I say, shaking it.

          "I'm Blanket, but that's just a nickname since my name's so long." I laugh.

          "Interesting." He sighs.

          "Very. Would you like to come sit?" he asks, gesturing towards the table. No actually, I'll just stand, I thought to myself. Ella, don't be rude, this kid's just being sweet.

          I nod and follow him to the table, plopping myself between him and Michael. Michael was observing me, while Prince and Paris stared. I waited nervously for someone to break the awkward barrier.

          "Hey, Elle, you want something to eat?" asks Blanket. I silently thank our lord for him, then nod. He gets up to fix something. Finally, Prince speaks up.

          "Excuse me, but who are you exactly?" he asks. I cringe inwardly, while Michael shoots daggers at him.

          "Well um, my mum, uh, she, um, actually, a, used to, well, she actually knows your, um, dad here and, um, well yeah." He smirks at me.

          "You've certainly got a way with words Ella" he says mockingly. I roll my eyes.

          "Oh my gosh, I know right. I should definitely do public speaking." That shuts him up quickly, with Blanket coming back in with my breakfast. I smile brightly at him.

          "Oh, you didn't have to do that for me, love!" he shakes his head smiling.

          "Ah, it was no biggie." I smile. Soon the room was devoured by another sequence of awkwardness.

          "So Ella, why don't you tell a little bit about yourself" Michael chirps suddenly. I nod in agreement.

          "Well, I was born in raised in New Zealand--"

"Isn't that near Australia?" Paris finally asks, looking up from cereal. Her blazing blue eyes stared at me through her short black hair. I smile at her in approval. I honestly thought I'd be met by some long, straight, brown haired teenager, who wore uggs, leggings, a shirt and a scarf all the time, and was addicted to Starbucks. But no, she's cool.

"Um, yeah, yes actually. It's an island, two islands really, extremely beautiful. You should visit." She nods and looks back at her cereal. I sigh a bit. This isn't going well.

"So, how does Dad know your mom?" Prince asks, speaking up again. My eyes widen into saucers, and I glance quickly at Michael. I could've sworn I saw a quick, shake of his head.

"Fencing" I say randomly. It was the first thing that came to mind. All three of the children look at me, puzzled. Paris is the one to break ice this time.

"You used to fence Dad?" she asks in bewilderment. I have to keep myself from laughing. Michael however took it with grace.

"All the time actually. It was great stress reliever. Just the rush you get when you win a match and the suiting was very comfy--" I place my head in my hand to keep from laughing.

"Do you have any pictures?" Prince chirps. I cover my mouth, wide-eyed. Fencing, really O'Connor? Really?

"No, there's none in existence. You weren't allowed to take pictures in side." I shake my head, my hand still covering my mouth. Paris was laughing now.

By then, the ice layer was melted, making the room much more comfortable.

"So Elle, what do you do for fun?" Paris asks me.

"Well, I write songs, I sketch and play sports, or at least used to."

"What made you stop?" Michael asks. I sigh.

"I had a near concussion. Mum made me stop after that." He frowns in concern.

"What do you do too keep active then?" Prince asks. I groan.

"I jog every morning. It totally sucks." Paris giggles a bit.

"What if I jogged with you?" I think about it.

"I guess it would suck less if a girl came along. You know, only if you can keep up." She raises an eyebrow and I grin back devilishly.

"You're on."

"Touché." She rolls her eyes smiling.

"Whatever." I laugh. Prince raises his hand feebly.

"May we go upstairs and change?" he asks.

"Of course, go ahead. Ella and I will wait here." All three of them rise and run upstairs. Michael turns towards me.

"Well?" I smile.

"I like all of them, especially Paris." He smiles in satisfaction. "Good."

A question then occurs to me.

"Are we going to tell them? You know, about me?" I ask in a low voice, so no one will here.

"Yes, for now. Something tells me they won't buy the fencing thing for very long" he responds equally as low, smirking. I blush; well at least I think I did.

"You go off now. I need some time to, uh, think things over. Come and get if there's any problems, big or small. I nod and run off.

Seventeen Years Ago

Thriller Era

(Michael)

          I sat nervously on the living room couch. I'm in my parents' house to talk to them about the news. I try to mentally prepare myself. Oh god, Joseph's going to have a field day with this. I smirk. The man's so damn predictable. I wish I could just be a little bit more, shielded around him, and then maybe he wouldn't hurt me so much.

          I shake the thought away. I need to focus. I turn to my side to Genevieve next to me. I smile graciously at her. She returns it. Thank god she's here, or things would be worse. I take her hand into mine and squeeze it, more for my benefit if anything.

          "Michael..." she says worriedly. I turn towards her, still holding her hand.

          "Are you okay?" I sigh. No I wasn't, but she doesn't need to know that. She has bigger problems.

          "I'm wonderful, really." She shakes her head in disbelief. The ‘rents came in soon after. My father and-shit! My mother, I forgot about her, surprisingly! Oh, she's going to be so disappointed! And then they'll ask questions and oh my!

          "Why, hello Ginny, how nice to see you!" my mother sings, well not really sings, but says. Everything my mother does is beautiful to me.

          "Hello Mrs. Jackson, Mr. Jackson." I breathe in and out to brace myself.

          "So what brings you by?" my parents were sitting on the couch across from us. I squirm a bit.

          "Um, actually, um, me and, um, Ginny have some, uh, news to, um, tell you?" I stuttered. I inwardly groan. I speak better than.

          "Boy, stop that stutterin'. You speak better than that." I mentally roll my eyes while Mother scolds Joseph.

          "Now, what did you want to tell?" Mother asks brightly. I sigh and glance Genevieve. It's my parents, therefore, my news.

          "Well?"

          "Well, Mother, Joseph" I say, gesturing towards them, "Genevieve's pregnant with my child?" Why do I keep squeaking!

          The room was quiet. My beloved mother was in a state of shock. My father's shock has simultaneously turned into anger. I gripped the couch cushioning fearfully. Joseph gets up out of his seat, walks over and slaps me. I immediately hold my cheek in shock.

          "Boy, what have I told you! How dare you, come in here, in my house and disgrace my family. Have I taught you anything?" he yells, seething. I am still in a state of shock, as well as Genevieve, cowering next to me.

          Mother has already left the room, so I looked into my lap.

          "That, child is being aborted. Or else, don't even think of walking into this house again." I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me. "Today."

          "Actually, Mr. Jackson, I'm three months in, so I can't get an abortion." We both look at her. I mouth to her if that true, she shrugs in response.

          My mother peeks out from the other room, shell-shocked. She walks up to me, moving a fuming Joseph out of the way. She looked teary and it broke me.

          "Why Michael? Why did you disobey Jehovah? Why?" I had to swallow down the urge to cry.

          "I don't know" I say in a strained voice. She shakes her head and disappointment and leaves. Joseph's the only one left. "Today Michael." He then leaves the room. I stay there in shock for a moment, and then turn towards Genevieve.

          "What now?" she narrows her eyes.

          "Well, I'm not getting an abortion" she says lowly. I smile. "Good."

          "Do you know why?" I look up from my hands. "Why?" She smiles.

          "This child in here" she says, patting her belly, "Is special, I can just feel it." I wrap her in a hug and think. I finally come to a conclusion.

          I can feel it too.

Seventeen Years Later

Dangerous Era

(Ella)

          I was searching for my jogging outfit so I could go with Paris. I look through the elaborately carved closet and I finally spotted it. A nice pair of latex, I mean nylon capris, a t-shirt and sweater, without the hood. It all had an orange theme to it.

          I jog down the spiral stairs to meet Paris in a black tank, white shorts and black and white Nikes. I had on neon orange Adidas sneakers. Go figure.

          "Took you long enough" she says with a laugh. I shake my head with a smile.

          "Come on, let's tell your dad we're going out." She nods. Our dad really, but oh--. "Crap!" I stubbed my toe in a corner. Paris looks at me quickly in concern, but I shake her off.

          "I'm fine, really." She shrugs and keeps walking. Until she makes it back to the dining room we ate in this morning. Michael's still sitting there, thinking.

          "Dad, we're going to go jog, okay?" It startles him a bit, but he recovers enough to nod and sink back into his thoughts. I shrug. Lorde knows what he's thinking about.

          "Let's go."

          We're outside, jogging around Neverland, because it's impossible to leave and not get mobbed. The greenery was soft, like turf, and smelled like happiness. We stopped at the Ferris Wheel, and ask the nearby gardener to operate it for us. We sit in a cart as we go around and around, chatting.

          "So what brings you here to Cali?" she asks in a soft sweet voice, with just a hint of mischief. I giggle.

          "Oh, just here to record an album" I say nonchalantly. I swear on my life that her eyes popped right out of her head. I laugh.

          "Whoa, you weren't kidding about the whole songwriting thing." I shake my head. She ponders for a bit.

"So what's it called?"

"I honestly don't know yet." Paris ponders for a minute, and then I see a light bulb go off.

"Pure Heroine." I wrinkle my nose. "What?" She sighs.

"Pure Heroine for your album title. It makes it sound edgy" she says, using gestures for emphasis.

"Why not Pure Cocaine, or Pure Marijuana, oh, or how about Pure Xanax?" I ask rhetorically. She rolls her eyes.

"I like the Pure Xanax one. It's creative." I laugh.

"So, Paris, what's it like having two brothers?" She giggles.

"Well, Prince and Blanket aren't so bad anymore. Blanket used to work my nerves when he was younger though, but Dad whipped him into shape." I laugh.

"What about your older brother?" She thinks hard, aging a few years through facial expressions.

"Well, he's not horrible, just, a bit irritating is all. He can be pretty cool though." I nod.

"So what would you think of having an older sister?" I ask as innocently as possible. She looks a bit miffed by my question, but still answers.

"I don't think I'd like that very much. I like being the only daughter, because I get attention. It's nice." I nod politely at her answer, trying not to freak.

"So, do you have any siblings?" she asks suddenly. I'm startled.

"Oh, oh you, I have a, um, a, oh okay, I have two sisters and one brother." She laughs at my choice of words.

"You have a way with words huh?"

"I know, I really should enter a speech competition." We laugh in unison as we leave the Ferris wheel and continue jogging around Neverland. However, I still couldn't get rid of that gnawing sensation in my stomach from Paris' words.

We headed back inside for some sweet lemonade. Michael was in the kitchen, sitting on the counter still in his pajamas and slippers, reading the paper.

"You read that?" I ask. I just figured he didn't read media much. He swiped a hand away from his face.

"Oh, nah, I just read it for the comics. I just love me some Garfield!" he says, hopping off the counter. "Did you have a good run? Did you bond well enough?" We nod. "Good." He saunters away to the room that looked like a smaller library. Let's be honest here, Michael Jackson's library probably looks like something out of Beauty and the Beast.

"Hey Elle, I'm going to invite my friend over, trust me, you're going to love her. She can be a little loud, and sometimes inappropriate, but she's really refreshing to have around." I nod hesitantly and raise an eyebrow. Paris mouths you'll love her and walks up to her room, just as Blanket comes down.

"Hey Blanket."

"Hi Ella." There's an awkward silence. I squirm a bit, but finally think of something.

"Hey, you wanna watch TV? I bet there's some cartoon on to watch." He smiles, and we run off to the family room. He picks up the remote, turns it on, and turns to me.

"What do you want to see?" he asks sweetly. I smile.

"Whatever you want to watch kiddo!" He grins like an idiot, an adorable idiot.

He flips through channels until we land on the kids stations. He flips past Disney Channel, Disney XD, Disney Junior, Nick 1 and 2, Nicktoons, Teen Nick, and Cartoon Network 1 and 2.

I just about had a heart attack when he flipped past Sponge Bob. When I asked him why he had two simply answers; his dad didn't allow it, and it was a stupid show. I had to laugh at the last one.

We agreed on The Last Airbender, the TV show, not the movie. We sat and watched together for an hour, then started talking.

Blanket's a master with Lego, always making some new contraption every week. He also loves Sci-Fi books and movies. I asked if he had read the Hunger Games or seen the movie.

"No, it's not my thing. I am reading Divergent though." My eyes widen.

"Isn't that above your reading level?" He shrugs.

"So, random question, what would you think of having another older sister?" I ask. He looks at me reproachfully and suspiciously, like I'm a venomous snake Mr. Daddy told him to stay far from, but be nice to.

"I guess I would be fine with it, depending on who it was. Like, if she was anything like how I think you are, I might accept it. I don't like secrets much, or games." The last comment was random, and he knows it. I ruffle his hair playfully.

"Too much like your dad for your own good kiddo." I get up and leave the room to find Prince.

He might be my last hope here.

Ella

          I walk up the stairs to the bedroom to find Prince. I can hear him on the phone in his room.

          "Okay, love you Niki. I'll see you tonight." I walk in.

          "Hey Prince." He looks up at me and smiles.

          "Oh, hey Ella. How are you?" "Fine." He nods. This is super awkward.

          "So who were you talking to?" I ask, trying to ease tension.

          "My girlfriend actually." My eyes widen in surprise. I didn't know about that.

          "She must be wonderful."

          "She is." He shifts, studying me. "Did you want something?" I glare at him. He throws up his hands.

          "I don't mean to be rude, but I have things to do." I sigh at his frankness. Well, now it'll be extra awkward.

          "What would you do I f you had another sister?" I ask hurriedly. He ponders on my question for a good few minutes. I sit on his bed, waiting.

          "Well, I wouldn't mind it. Like, if it was some sort of Maury situation, I ‘d accept the new kid because, first of all, that's what my dad would want and two, I'm the leader, I have to set a good example." I smile at his thorough answer. At least I've got Prince backing me up.

          "Thanks Prince."

"No problem, but why the random question?" he inquires. I sigh and twist my wrist.

"Oh, um, nothing. Nothing at all?" I had squeaked my last sentence. Damn you voice!

Prince raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"See you later?" He nods as I scurry away. I really hope we get along soon.

I wander throughout the house, looking for the main library. I finally fall upon a secret door. It had a case of spiral black and red carpeted stairs. I walk up it slowly to be met by another door. I open it and to meet a large, well lit, room. I walk in and look around the place. I see rows and rows of books along the walls on dark-wooded shelves.

"Beauty and the Beast library" I whisper softly. It was like a real life version of the thing. "Whoa." I hear a soft giggle. I snap my head in that direction. I see Michael sitting in a chair reading. He gets up and walks over. The chair had a huge number seven.

"I see you like the library." I nod. He smirks.

"You like to read?" I nod again and he chuckles. He gestures for me to follow him. "Come."

We walk along the walls until we stop at a shelf. Michael pulled up a ladder and climbed up. He takes a book of the shelf and comes down.  He hands it to me. It was To Kill a Mockingbird.

"It's a good book. You should definitely read it. So, how've you been getting along with the kids?" he asks. I twist my wrists again.

"Yeah, except for Prince. Things are still a bit awkward. I also may have somewhat subtle asked what'd they'd think of having a sister?" Damn it! Another squeak! Michael raises an eyebrow at me, sighing.

"What'd they say?" he asks in an exasperated tone.

"Prince will back me up, Blanket will probably hate me, and possibly you too, and Paris would hate my guts." Michael's expression tires as he leans against the book case.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, in an undetectable tone. Is he testing me?

"What do you think is the wisest thing to do? They are your kids." He nods in agreement, still deep in thought. The man seems to be always thinking out everything.

"Let them get used to you. Maybe the blow will be softer that way."

That's a bad idea my inner voice admonishes. But I decide to go with it. They are his kids, right?

"I'm going to go. Are you fine down here Mr. Jackson?" He nods. I go up through the same pathway as before, with the black and red staircase. I hope his children don't know about this.

"Vania, this is Ella, Ella, and Vania." Paris was introducing me to her friend she invited over. I stick out my hand to shake. Vania takes it.

"Nice to meet you. Why are you in L.A.?" Vania asks in an analyzing tone. It sort of freaks me out.

"I'm actually recording an album." She nods, smiling. She wants to ask questions, but she decides not to. Fine by me.

"Well, since Prince is already on his date, and Blanket's at Karate, or whatever, want to have a super soaker war?" Paris asks, but mostly towards me.

"I'm all for it, but what about you?" Vania asks. Now both eyes are on me. I'm going to regret this but...

"Sure, why not, I mean, I could use a bit more sun and the sun is down so I can be out long. Let's do it!" We all squeal in excitement.

"Okay, everyone go put on a swimsuit and meet at the carousal. Okay?" Vania and I nod in response. We all rush upstairs, throw on swimsuits and a cover up, and head down.

We meet at the carousal as said.

"Okay, here are the rules. Don't shoot someone getting a renewal in ammo. Don't hide in the house. You can climb trees use the golf carts, the train, or even use the rides, but it's not recommended because someone will definitely see you. Oh, I almost forgot" Paris' face went dark, "NO Michael Jackson references, because not only will you lose automatically if I catch you, but I will personally strangle you, FROM DRIVING ME INSANE!" I back up from her outburst. She recoils a bit from realization. Vania leans towards me.

"Don't worry, this always happens. She just really hates when people do that." I nod, still a bit miffed.

"Okay ladies, follow me for the ammo!" We walk across the greenery for awhile until we see a small warehouse. Paris opens the door, which lets out a relieving squeak. She walk in the dark place And follow. She pulls something from the wall, and a light comes on. The warehouse is filled with tools for the gardens and greenery, and mountains of super soakers. Paris hands each of us one, then keeps looking around. Finally, she pulls out a rather large bucket of balloons.

"This bucket will be in the middle of the yard." She continues digging until she picks up a specific super soaker model. She holds it up with pride.

"This, my friends, is Madame Roulette. My dad got for me as a present. We've won many wars together." Her father's daughter alright.

"Girl, I got places to be! I need to hurry up, beat you and then--"

"Beat me! Vania you don't stand a chance! Especially since this is one on one on one. I'm definitely winning! I am the queen, of super soaker wars and--. Hey! Who did that!" I look down. I may have "accidentally" pushed the squirt button at Paris to shoot her. No big!

"Girl, you are on!" I smile deviously. We run outside to the starting point.

These girls have no idea what just hit them. Paris counts down.

"Let the super soaker war begin in...3...2...1... 

Ella

We all ran three different directions. I went straight to a golf cart and drove away.

I kept driving over the greenery for five minutes until I found a rather large tree, different from the others. I park the cart out of view, and start climbing. I feel like Katniss Everdeen, climbing and climbing up this tall tree. I find a chair like array of branches, and sit in it.

"Won't be able to see me from here, will you Sheila" I say to myself. I watch the girls run around, throwing balloons at each other. They stop [soon though, and come close together, seemingly talking. They then split up, like they're searching for something, or someone. I scoff. Well, this just got up close and personal.

I wait a little longer until Vania comes close, holding up her gun, searching for me like a professional gunman. I hoist my gun under my arm, position myself, and then swing my body upside down, hanging. It was a noiseless motion. Vania was still in range. I position my gun, aim, and fire.

Her eyes widen as she looks up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asks in a harsh whisper, glaring.

"Winning." I grab a branch and flip again, then drop. Vania mouth was wide.

"How did you--"

"No time for explanation, I need to get Paris." I turned to go but she stopped me. She points me the other way.

"She should be there by now. Win this, please." I nod and run off.

I run to find another tree. Suddenly, a water balloon is thrown my way. I snap my head in that direction. There was none. Another one came at me, and I ducked in time. There was no one there either. I sprint to the tree a scurry up, hiding.

I see a black figure jump out of a nearby tree. Paris for sure.

"Come out Ella! You can't hide forever!" she calls out in a twisted, evil tone, followed by a demonic laugh. I recoil a bit and position my gun at her. One shot was all I needed.

She aims her gun at me. I can tell she's estimating, but there is no way to be sure. I put my finger on the trigger. One shot was all I needed.

          "Come out Ella." There she goes with that demonic voice. It made my skin crawl. She went at it again.

          "Luck's not on your side honey buns. You don't have Jackson blood pumping through your veins." Oh she took it too far with that one. Especially since she used that creepy ass demon voice.

          "Shamone, BITCH!" Paris was on the ground, trying to escape the blast I was shooting. All of a sudden, it was like I had freakish super powers. I jumped out of the tree, still spraying her.

          "Stop it, it's too cold!" she pleads. Okay, Lorde, I think she got the message. I stop. I start giggling nervously, smoothing my now curly hair.

          "You bitch! I told you--" She stops, and starts smiling. She's laughing now, looking at her drenched body. She looks up at me, her sapphire eyes sparkling.

          "No one has ever beaten me, except for my dad" she says softly, smiling like an idiot. I laugh, while Vania jogs over.

          "Did you beat her?" she asks anxiously. We both nod, smiling. Vania bursts out laughing, gripping her stomaching.

          "That's what you get, conceited ass--"

          "Hi Mr. Jackson!" I call out loudly so I can stop Vania. Something tells me Michael wouldn't appreciate her language very much.

          "Hello girls! What are you ladies up to?" he asks. It seems to be a rhetorical question though.

          "Well, you know the usual" Paris answers back. He smiles, rocking back and forth on his feet.

          "Well, dinner's inside if you want anything. Don't let me get your way though." I roll my eyes. My mom says the same thing when my friends are over. It pretty much means: Get inside and eat! It's way past dinner time already! Except, Michael's not pissed, but delighted. He's probably happy I got along with his little ray of sunshine.

          Watch the sarcasm honey buns! Well shit conscious, so touchy lately.

          After we all ate, us girls when upstairs to Paris' room. Vania was sleeping over, so we did what girls usually do at this sort of thing. Sit around the TV with bags of junk food and watch all five Glee seasons.

          Joking!

          We actually sat around Paris' room, ate some junk, put on some music and talked.

          "So what do you do for fun in New Zealand?" Paris asked me. I shifted in my ninja turtle pants.

          "Same stuff as here, just less pollution." They both smile devilishly.

          "So you know what truth or dare is, right?" I roll my eyes.

          "Of course! But theirs is nothing you could force me to tell the truth about, or dare me to do, that's too hard. I've had the worst of it" I announce proudly. Vania leans back smugly.

          "Oh really?"

"Really." She smirks at me again, and then turns towards Paris'. I think they were doing some sort of silent communication through expressions. Vania turns towards me.

"Truth or dare?" I click my tongue.

"Hit me with your best dare. Fire away!" she's still smirking, her bangs covering one of her eyeliner eyes.

"I dare you, to kiss Paris, twenty seconds, no breaks." I smirk. Easy as cake.

"Okay, but I don't think I have a wig or guitar, or know a KISS song so..." she shoots me a look of annoyance. I laugh.

"Okay, okay, I'll do it. Set the timer." She raises an eyebrow than pulls up a timer. I scoot towards Paris on the bed. She's giving me a weird look that I can't detect. Is she testing me? Trying to see if I'll crack?

"Alright, 3...2...1...GO!" I pull her head in and put my lips on hers. Kissing is easy; it's all about your imagination. I've had boyfriends before, so I pretend she's a boy.

I put my tongue in her mouth, swirling it around. She's a bit shocked I can tell.

"T-time?" says Vania, obviously shocked. I back away, and then peck Paris on the nose. Her eyes widen.

"No, I'm not a lesbian. It's like I said, I can't be fazed by dares. I've done them all. The both look at me in shock. Paris is the first to reboot.

"N-now you have to do a truth, from me" she says, the strength in her voice coming back quickly. I smirk at her.

"Last time I checked, that's not how truth or dare worked..."

"You're new, so we have to test the waters. I chuckle.

"Okay, ask away." She clears her throat, repositioning herself to cross her legs.

"What's the real reason you're here?" I blink twice.

"Wait, what?" She sighs.

"Ella, why are you here, why are you staying in our house instead of a relatives?

I gulp.

How am I supposed to dodge this bullet?

Ella

          I shift awkwardly on the bed and start twisting my curls. Michael would be pissed if I told Paris now.

          "It's like I said, your dad and my mom are friends" I answer weakly. Paris gives me a look. She's not convinced.

          "Really?" she asks suspiciously. I nod vigorously. She narrows her eyes and gets in my face.

          "I don't like liars." I nod again, recoiling.

          "So you're not lying?" she asks. I nod for all it's worth. She can't find out about it. It- it just can't happen. She rolls her eyes and sighs.

          "Fine, I'm still suspicious though" she says coyly. I throw my hands up to my sides. She cracks a smile. Vania's still leaning on the wall, giving us both weird looks, like we grew an extra arm, with her arms folded across her chest.

          "Am I the only one, still feeling the heeby jeebies from earlier?" she asks. She has a hood accent, so it sounds funny.

          Paris and I both shake our heads. I actually shiver.

          "How about this" I say, turning towards Paris and Vania, "All who agree to never tell Mr. Jackson of anything that went down in this room, no matter what, say I."

"I" they say in unison.

"Good, now let's move on. How about a nice movie?" I ask, trying to distract them. I don't need Paris thinking over my answer to the question. I don't know what she's capable of!

"Sure, what do you guys want to see?" Paris asks. Vania turns to me. I guess I'm picking.

"How about the Hunger Games?" It's perfect. It has enough things in it to distract Paris. The nod in agreement, but I can tell Vania's annoyed. Paris hops off the bed.

"I'll be right back." We both nod as she leaves. Just me and Vania. Go figure. Vania gives me the side eye.

"You sure you not a lesbian. I mean, I won't judge or nothin'. I ain't about that, but--" I lift up my hand to stop her and wince.

"I'm sure. It's okay though, this isn't the first time." I sigh inwardly. I'v1e been asked that so many times, I was starting to question myself. I chuckle. It'll be ten times worse if my album does well. Vania seems to pity me, still leaning against that damn wall.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know" she says softly. I smile.

"It's alright. But now, I get to ask you an uncomfortable question." She smirks at me.

"Well, shoot." I narrow my eyes.

"What are you?" I've caught her off guard, because now she's finally off that wall. She marches up to me on the bed and gets in my face. I laugh in my head. She so short--.

"What the fuck you just ask me?" she yells. I block my face.

"I just wanted to know your ethnicity!" she growls, yes growls.

"Then why the fuck does you got to be rude and ask what the fuck I am!" I back up a bit from her yelling. I roll into a ball, fetal position.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I whine, trembling. She backs up calming herself. After a few minutes, she answers.

"Latina, part Italian, that's why I'm so light skin. I was born in Chicago, so don't push my buttons, a'ight?" I nod like a bobble head. Finally, Paris is back. She looked over at Vania's annoyed face and giggled. She turns towards me.

"You asked what she was?" she asks with a smirk. I blush, or at least I think I did. You can't tell with ghost skin like this. She laughs.

"It's okay, I've made the same mistake" she says sympathetically. I nod thankfully. She hands me the movie box.  I look up in confusion.

"Go ahead, put it in" Paris says, pointing me to the DVD player. Vania giggles. Paris snaps her head at her.

"What's so funny?" she asks. Vania gives her a sly smile.

"It didn't sound like you were talking about a DVD..." Paris smacks her in the arm.

"Ya, little nasty!" I laugh at both of them and put in the DVD. We all sat around and watched the screen. Paris leans in to whisper.

"So are we just going to forget earlier?" she asks. I scrunch my nose.

"You kissed me."

"I know, don't remind me. Remember, nothing that went down is to ever be revealed." She nods, getting my message. We sit and watch the movie in peace.

By the time it's over, Paris and Vania are fast asleep. It's beautiful.

I lift Paris' head off my lap, and slowly back away. I walk out quietly, checking the time as I left, 12:30. I walk down the hallway, downstairs, and into the office, where I met Michael last night. The light is on.

I walk in to see him in a chair with lion feet, reading a book. He looks up and smiles.

"How was your first day?" he asks softly. I shrug. "Interesting." He raises an eyebrow at me and stands.

"Interesting?" I nod.

"How was it interesting?" I purse my lips to stifle a smile.

"It's your kids. I can see how they're yours." He raises the eyebrow again. I bring my hands up to my sides.

"Hey, I see how I see it!" he laughs lightly. I tilt my head slightly in puzzlement.

"How do you speak like that?" I ask suddenly. He gives me a reproachful look then softens it. Blanket's definitely the most like him, looks wise.

"What do you mean?"

"That voice, it's like an angel, and comforts me, but creeps me out at the same time." He widens his chocolate eyes at me, rolls them, and laughs.

"Very funny, you must be laughing on the inside, huh" he says in a snippy tone. I shoot him a cheesy grin. He rolls his eyes.

"Well, if you remember, I gave you a twenty-four hour period to test the waters with you." I nod vigorously. He smirks.

"Well, I like you, and I think you'll have a good influence on the kids, and myself. You're very special Ella." He taps my nose on the last part. I giggle and step, an inch away from him.

"Well, where do you think I got that from, Mr. Jackson?" I ask, rocking forward on my feet. He ruffles my hair and pulls me into a hug. I laugh and pull away after a minute. I hold out my index finger and look up expectantly. Michael gives me a look.

"Touch it." He touches my finger with his whole hand. I raise my eyebrow in annoyance. A light bulb went off in his head.

"Oh!" he touches my finger with his. The ET handshake, priceless. I pop up.

"Goodnight Mr. Jackson!" I say, running out of the room, up to the stairs. He runs out after me.

"Ella!" I turn towards him on the spiral case.

"Call me Michael, for now. I smile. Maybe everything will be alright.

Ella

          I wake up the next morning early so I can sneak back. I pull back the fluffy white comforter and hop out of bed. I freshen up, slap on some make up and change. What to wear...

          I look through my closet. I pick out a loose, dressy black top, black denim shorts, black see-through stockings and my black eighties shoes. I always wear them.

          I accessorize my outfit and go to Paris' room. The girls were still sleeping, so I decided to snoop around. I find a huge record and CD collection. It was mostly rock, original rock.

          I grow bored soon and saunter over to her work desk to get a sharpie. I walk over quietly, kneeling in front of Paris. She stirs a little, but stays. I smirk evilly.

          I bend over and draw a mustache, mole and glasses. I lean over to Vania's side and draw a goatee, unibrow and eye bags. I get up and back away.

          "Good morning ladies!" I yell out in a sing-a-song voice. They both groan and squirm.

          "I'm tired. Five more minutes, please?" Paris mumbles. I huff.

          "At least look in the mirror" I whine, dragging them both up. They moan tiredly as I drag them into the bathroom.

          "Happy washing ladies!" I squeal and sprint out. In seconds, I hear a loud screech.

          "ELLA! I'M GOING TO FU-FREAKING KILL YOU!" Paris screams with Vania growling in the background. I run downstairs to the kitchen. I pass Michellé on my way.

          "Good mornin' miss!" she calls out. I nod at her and keep running. The girls trudge down behind me. Michellé laughed at the sight.

          "Good mornin miss! You doa realize there's eur lahl summa' thy fyass?" she says with a giggle.

          "Yes Miss Michellé" Paris growls. Michellé throws up her hands.

          "Sorry, didn't mean ta upset theur."

          I ran to the other side of the dining table, where Michael and his kids ate. Prince was frozen with surprise while Blanket and Michael looked on in amusement.

          "You'll never get me alive! I was raised on the outback!" I call out at them, as I hop behind Michael. Paris lunges at me and Vania charges. I make the mistake of ducking. We end up in a pile, me at the bottom and Vania on top. We all groan.

          "What was that about? One minute it's peaceful without you girls and then, boom!" Blanket exclaims, staring at the heap of bodies in bewilderment. Paris looks up in daze. The whole dining table bursts with laughter.

          "What happened?" Michael asks giggling, helping us one at a time up.

          "Well..."

          "That was a rhetorical question.  I already know. I have eight siblings, remember." That makes Paris giggle.

          "Now girls, go wash up and come down to eat. Ella, you can wait here if you'd like." I nod. I lean over into Paris' ear and whisper.

          "Your face, was on, my butt." She narrows her eyes at me, wrinkling her glasses.

          "Your face was under my vagina" she whispers. I throw up my hands to my sides.

          "I swear I'm not a lesbian!" Everyone in the room looks at me. Michael's expression shows the most concern. My eyes widen in embarrassment.

          "I'm not! This is why I can't stand Jehovah witness families!"

          "I'm actually catholic..." Vania speaks up.

          "Tomato, tomoto, potato, pototo. Same exact thing." Blanket shakes his head in disbelief. Michael narrows his eyes at me a smile dancing on his lips. He shakes his head with a chuckle.

          "What's so funny dad?" Prince asks, finally out of his series of trances. Michael looks up wide-eyed and smiles.

          "Oh, it's just her mother used to always say the same thing. I miss her." I cut my eyes at him. Some of it was sympathy, a little bit of amusement and nostalgia, and a little bit of admonishment. The family gives their dad a look of suspicion, but leaves it.

          "Well, we better go cleanup" Paris announces, pulling Vania with her. The leave while I'm left standing behind Michael's chair once again. Blanket looks up at me. He smirks.

          "You can sit down you know." I nod absentmindedly, looking at the back of Michael's head. So much black hair. So thick, so soft, so full of fragrance and bounce...

          "Ella, are you okay?" I hear Prince ask worriedly. I look up at Prince. My vision's swaying back and forth. This is so drunk in love. I giggle in unawareness. They all give me worried looks, but I wave them off and smile, vision still impaired. Michael reaches up from behind and holds my arm. I giggle again.

          "I'm fine" I say in a girly, bird-like voice, which is not mine. I yank my arm away and stumble somewhere. Michael gets out of his wooden chair, which releases a squeak, and wraps me in a hug. He turns me around so I face him and bends down to eye level.

          "Ella, do you have any health issues I need to know about?" he asks calmly, I believe, but everything I hear has a bubbly sound. I shrug, unable to recall anything. I hear the bubble filled sound of Blanket getting up, followed by Prince. They all hold me up.

          "I'm starting to hear colors, Daddy" I mumble drowsily. I can barely catch Blanket narrowing his eyes. Michael grabs my waist from the back, and lifts me princess style. I reach up and touch his face.

          "You're pretty" I chirp in the Barbie voice. He shakes his head.

          "Prince, go get the girls, tell them it's an emergency." I see him nod in response and run.

          "Blanket, door please." The door is open. He keeps walking until we're out on the turf greenery. We wait for the others and file into to a vehicle. I see the car's engine start as we drive away. My temperature rises.

          "I can hear sounds now" I moan in the Barbie voice as I fall into Blanket's lap. He smoothes my hair and I moan in response.

          "Blanket, stop doing that. Her moaning is making me uncomfortable" I see Paris say in a DJ remix. Am I high?

          The car jerked to a stop, as Michael opened the door and carried me out into the UCLA Medical Center. I have no idea how I caught that. I see Vania choke up tears.

          "Are you gonna be okay, Boo?" she asks me. I nod in daze. I guess Boo is the American version of Sheila.

          Emergency specialists come immediately, and place me on a stretcher. The wheel me away to an emergency room afterwards. That's all I remember before I black out.

Ella

          I finally woke up to see paramedics surrounding me. I let out a small screech. The all snap to attention and gaze at me I squirm.

          "She's awake, get the doctor" an ebony toned, female paramedic tells the others. The all back away and a fair skinned, natural blond nurse, comes up.

          "Sit up sweetie." I sit up as she fluffs my pillows and lifts the bed to a sitting position. The paramedics have all filed out of the room.

          "The doctor will be with you in a few minutes. Would you like me to call in your caretaker?" she asks sweetly. I nod, a little drowsy from the black out.

          "And who will I call in?" I scrunch my eyebrows for a moment.

          "Mr. Jackson, please." She nods and leaves. Her light pink nurse scrubs were cover in hearts on the top. I giggle to myself. What to do now...

          I look to my right and see a table with a remote. I get up and out of the bed, but stop immediately when the room starts to dip. One step at a time, Ella.

          I balance myself slowly, leaning against the while as I walked, put one foot in front of the other. The room still swayed, but I wanted me some television. I decide to wing it. I push off the wall and walk quickly over to the table, grab the AT&T U-Verse remote and rush to hop in bed. It takes five minutes for my balance to come back. I smile in victory.

          I press the on button on the remote and flip channels. It's eleven in the morning, so there are mostly soap operas. I sigh. My mum would have loved this.

          I keep flipping until I hear a rather eye-catching news report.

          "Protests in Ukraine have escalated since Russia's troops were sent in. reports say--"

          "Sorry, Diana, but reports just came in about Michael Jackson, but we'll come back to you" a blond, ditzy looking woman in her thirties tells the approximately forty-year old African American woman.

          "But, Sharon!" Sharon clicked off the reporter's signal and continued with the segment.

          "Incoming reports have spotted Michael Jackson at the UCLA Medical Center. Sources say he had a mysterious fan with him, who was rushed after reportedly passing out. No reports on what condition this young girl is in but reports have described her to have curly brown hair, blue-green eyes, pale skin and about five foot eight." I chuckle at the last one. I'm only 5'5".

          "No quotes are being given from Mr. Jackson. Back to you Diana." The screen switched back to the Ukraine protests, with a terrified reporter whose hair was close to be singed of by a torch. She continues her report shakily.

          I change the channel to land on Doctor Who. Finally, some real television.

          The doctor and Michael both come in soon after. The doctor was African, I could tell from the skin tone and that look she had. She was dark ebony, with a small, short afro. She was tall and thin, resembling a model. She smiles, motioning for Michael to have a seat in a chair next to my bed, making me center.

          "All right Miss," she pauses for a moment, looking at her clip tablet, "Ah yes, Yelich-O'Connor. How are feeling at the moment?" she had a thick Algerian accent.

          "Well, I was able to get this remote, but I was dizzy. Not to mention that the media is now bent on finding out whom I am" I answer bitterly. Michael immediately shoots me a look. The doctor gives me a look of empathy.

          "Don't worry, you can wear a hospital mask on your way out, okay?" I nod, sitting straighter in the bed.

          "Okay, we need to do a quick health check. My team ran some tests to diagnose you. You fainted from a low iron level. That can be caused from extreme blood loss. Do you have any medical history as of now that might have caused extreme blood loss?" I twist my wrist and fiddle with my hands. Michael turns my head towards him.

          "Honey is there something I need to know about?" I twist my wrist harder and pinch my eyes tight. I bite my lip until I taste blood and start shaking violently. I start to hyperventilate.

          "No!" I cry out in agony, lifting head. I curl into a sitting fetal position. Michael was already at my side, holding me, rocking me back and forth, trying to calm me. I was still hyperventilating.

          "Why did he do this to me!" I cry out, my body and soul-being now disconnected. Why do I have to be so weird!

          Michael kept rocking me and cuddling me in his arms. I stopped hyperventilating and started sobbing. I kept crying myself a river. Michael kept rocking me back and forth.

          "I'm so worthless!" I cry out, still sobbing. Michael holds me tighter now. He was whispering things in my ear.

          "You're not worthless sweetie. You're a gem. Your mother and wouldn't have kept you around if we didn't think you were worth it" he said softly, almost a whisper. I was still crying but not making noise. I furrow into Michael's embrace more.

          "How could I let him do that to me?" I whisper into his ear. He nuzzles his chin in my shoulder. I relax.

          "Ella, it wasn't your fault. I don't know what happened, but I know you wouldn't go down without a fight." I shake my head violently.

          "No, I started it. I could've avoided, but I started" I say real quietly, out of tears to shed. Michael lifts me off and lays me against the hospital bed. The doctor had this knowing look on her face, but was silent. Michael faces me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

          "Are you calm now?" he asks softly. His voice was intoxicating. I nod.

          "Ella, how about you tell us what happened, so we can help you feel better." I raise an eyebrow.

"How exactly?" He takes both my hands and holds them, looking right into them.

"Physically, emotionally, and mentally. Ella, I know how you feel. I have a feeling I went through something similar around your age." I raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"Oh really?" He nods, the doctor still looking on. I huff.

"Okay, we'll see how similar it is. It all started about, seven or so years back..."

Ella

Flash back to seven years ago...

          I was sitting on the couch watching Pokémon. My mom was getting ready for work at the Medical Center and my three other siblings were out. I decided to stay home, since that meant my favorite person ever will get to watch me. My mom comes up and kisses me on my head. I smile and hug her.

           "Okay sweetie, Justin will be here in a minute. You had enough dinner? Did you wash, change into your PJs?" she asks worriedly. I laugh and stand up, hugging her again.

          "Mom, I'm fine. I will be okay, just relax" I say, walking with her to the door. The doorbell rings, creating a church bell sound. I giggle and open the door.

          "Justin, you're here!" I shout, wrapping him in a hug. He giggles.

          "Hey Sweetums, you ready to hangout?" he asks softly. He tends to be shy. I nod excitedly. My mom giggles.

          "Okay, I'll be back at nine, alright. You need to be in bed by then." We both nod and my mom leaves. I turn to Justin and he grabs my waist. He has this strange glint in his eye but I can't tell what it is.

          "Okay, Elle, how about we have a movie night? We can turn down the lights, get some pillows and comforters and watch the movie station. How does that sound?" he asks. I jump up and down, nodding excitedly. I love movie nights.

          "Let's do it! I'll get everything." I rush upstairs to get the pillows and blankets. As I come back down, I hear Justin talking to himself.

          "You can't back out now, Justin. You've been waiting months for this." That's weird for him. I trudge the rest of the way down. He snaps his head to look at me.

          "You ready?" he asks with a smile, but there was something else in it. I smile back, ignoring it.

          "As ready as I'll ever be" I say, plopping next to him. He brings me in and we cuddle. We watch Rush Hour 1& 2 and boy, were they funny. After the movie was over, Justin turned towards me.

          "Hey, Elle, do you like me?" he asks. I raise an eyebrow and smile.

          "Of course I like you. You're like a brother to me" I answer back. He gives me a pained look.

          "Ella, you know you're beautiful, right?" I nod in response. Where is this going?

          He scoots even closer, and holds my waist. My breath catches in my throat, as my body heats up.

          "Ella, I really care about you, I love you actually, and, I want you. I stop breathing as he comes even closer, with in kissing distance. I'm paralyzed with fear.

          "Do you trust me?" he asks. I give my head two quick shakes. He gives me a saddened look. I quickly break away from his lock. I stare at him in horror.

          "I'm ten years old!" I yell at him. He runs over to me.

          "But you're turning eleven in a week and I'm only nineteen. I know married couples with the same age difference!" I stare at him.

          "I am a MINOR." He flicks his hand in dismissal.

          "Age is just a number." I roll my eyes and cross my arms.

          "Yeah, and jail is just a place. That's exactly where you'll end up I you lay a hand on me." He steps closer to me.

          "But, what if you like it?" I raise my eyebrow.

          "I'm calling my mom" I say, running up the stairs, but he grabs me and throws me over he's shoulder. I scream and kick and pound his back. He then flips me on the couch and crawls on top of me. I keep screaming and kicking. He holds down both my arms but I keep kicking.

          "I'm not going to do anything to you, alright?!" I snap my head up in shock. He sighs.

          "I just wanted to know if you had started your period yet?" I scrunch up my nose.

          "Yeah, but why?" I asked. He had a glint in his eyes. Then something starts to click in my head. I remember learning something in health, because I had skipped a grade. I gasp, but it was too late. While I was thinking, he had slid down my sweat pant and undies, as well as his. I start kicking and screaming again.

          He shoves it in immediately.

I cry out in pain. It was excruciating. He was pumping in and out of my body, huffing and puffing while I kept screaming. We had no neighbors that I could call to for help, but I did anyways.

"He's raping me! He's raping...me!" I scream over and over throughout the house. I soon start panting too. He kept pumping and it started to hurt less and less as time went on. What's happening?

I look down and see that his...penis was glistening, and not in blood. I gasp. My body has betrayed me.

"Told you you'd like this" he says in a raspy voice. I glare at him, trying to push him off.

"No I don't, I'm just-oh." I moaned quietly, inwardly angry with myself. I'm letting him do this, I'm letting this happen.

It went on for another fifteen minutes. It was 8 o'clock by that time. He pulled out of me and removed a plastic thing off of him. He went to throw it away as I pull up my bottoms. How could I let this happen?

He walks back over to me and gives me a kiss. He sat on the couch next to me and pulled my paralyzed body over to him.

"You like that?" he asked me. I didn't respond. He makes me faces him.

"I know you liked it. You showed me you did, Bae." I push him away.

"I'm not your bae, and bae is not a thing. Stop trying to make bae happen, it's not going to happen." He rolls his eyes, and kisses me.

This continued for the rest of the night. He had fondled me; semi- raped me, and ruined any future I had of trusting men for a long time.

Ella

Seven Years Later

UCLA Medical Center

I look up at the two of them with a tear-stained face.

"He took away the thing that everyone looks forward to. I had to go to intense therapy because of him; I had cut myself because of him. I almost killed myself. I almost killed myself!" I yell in pure rage. Michael touches my back softly. I turn to face him.

"Did you tell your mother immediately?" I nod.

"Did he end up in jail?" I sigh.

"He still is." He nods with a hint of satisfaction. He smirks, but it's small.

"He's definitely dead by now" he says softly. I snap my head up at him.

"Michael Joe Jackson, that is out right dark!" he chuckles.

"It's probably true though! The murderers are on top, everyone else is in the middle, then rapists and pedophiles are prey. They're considered weak." I could tell that was to comfort me. I was shining on the inside. That's really dark, Ella.

I hug him. He's the only man I needed right now.

Ella

UCLA Medical Center

          I sit up and look at the doctor.

          "That's why, that's why I have such a low blood level. I had cut myself." She nods and walks over to me. She reached for my arm, which I gave to her. She turned it back and forth, causing my hospital gown to rumple.

          "Aged scars left over from the cuts. The team has all ready checked your blood level. You haven't lost so much you need a blood downer, but you will need iron supplements." She pulls a jar out of her pocket and hands them to me.

          "One supplement a day, then come back here in two weeks, alright?" I nod, trying not to giggle at her accent. She leaves the room, leaving Michael and I. I turn towards him.

          "You said you might've had a similar story. Do you?" I ask quietly. He lowers his head a bit, his brown eyes enlarging.

          "Unfortunately, I do." I look at him, encouraging him to continue. He lets out a long relieved sigh.

          "Well, like you it started at ten. It was a security member who eventually got fired. It went on till I was fourteen before I told anyone and they had me go through intense therapy. I prefer not to talk about it though." I nod at his explanation.

          "Is this a bad time to say, like father like daughter?" I ask with a squeak. He grins and gives me a bear hug.

          "I don't know, what you think?" he asks with the same squeak. I squeal.

          "We're squeak buddies!" he laughs, hopping off the bed.

          "Come on, go change and I'll go get the mask. Meet us in the waiting room." I nod and grab my clothes to go change. I hop off my bed and start walking, but I almost relax. He sighs and comes to pick me up. He walks me to the bathroom and sets me on the counter he looks up at me.

          "Do you want help changing." I nod, my head aching from the dizzy spells. He purses his lips.

          "Do you want me to help you or one of the girls." I narrow my eyes at him.

          "I would like my father to help me, thank you." He rolls his eyes at my attitude. I smirk at him and pull off my hospital gown. I'm left in only my bra and undies. He had turned around to get my clothes ready and turns around. His face was priceless.

          His eyes were wide open and his lips sealed together. He looked like a ghost, standing frozen in a black military jacket, black pants, and black loafers with white socks. I start to grow self-conscious and covered my body. He came back to life and shook his head.

          "Sorry, just didn't see that coming." I nod and start blushing.

          "It's alright, I know I'm a bit pudgy compared to my mom" I say, taking my pants from his hands. He shakes his head sharply.

          "No Ella, you're perfectly fit. Your beautiful." I take a small bow.

          "Why thank Mr. Jackson" I answer with a giggle. He giggles too. I put on my shorts, since the left my stockings, and shimmied into the shirt Michael helps me put on. He looks up suggestively.

          "You ready to go? It has been an hour." I giggle and nod, reaching my arms out to be lifted. He lifts me up and sets me on the ground. I start walking and the space doesn't dip.

          "Looks like you've been cured" he says jokingly. I grin.

          "Yup. Did you contact my aunt?" I ask. He nods.

          "Mhm, she said that as long as you're staying with me, I'm responsible for you. She promised to work out any legal problems." I nod and keep walking down the hallway, with my father, out of that dreaded UCLA Medical Center. I will forever loathe hospitals.

          When all of us got back to the house, Vania left, leaving just the five of us. Blanket has called a meeting in the family room, having us all sit down in a sofa, him at the head. He was now analyzing and speculating us individually. Michael seemed to be the most amused.

          "As you see here, I've called a house meeting, having all non-employed members who are in here as of now, come. I have seen things in this house that irk me, and I want answers" he says solemnly, leaning back in the sofa rocker. I smirk at him, causing him to immediately point at me.

          "It is you! It is you that irks me! Something is off about your back-story, and I ...want...answers!" he says harshly, pounding his fist on the coffee table between his pauses. He gives me a patronizing look that could kill, leaving everyone else in shock, except for Michael. He's still amused by Blankets outrage. I puff my chest out in confidence.

          "You want answers?" I challenge. He raises an arched eyebrow.

          "Well, Mamacita, I already told you. Take it or leave it." He was enraged, getting a giggle from Michael. Prince has resorted to his phone.

          "Is that some sort of racist joke?" he asks in fury. I throw my hands up.

          "I just came from New Zealand! I don't know how to be racist towards Hispanics or Africans. I only know Aboriginals." Everyone gives me a funny look except for Michael. He was still giggling.

          "Abor-whats?" Paris asks, looking up from a failed Flappy Bird level.

          "They're just Natives." Blanket waves a dismissive hand.

          "Ella, I want the truth. I value the truth. I was raised on the truth. Praise God for the truth! Praise God for the truth!" he preaches, jumping up and down in his bright orange nylon shorts and white t-shirt. His hair was down, jumping about. Michael was laughing, hard. I sigh.

          Blanket finally calms himself, sits back down in his chair and crosses his legs, revealing white socks. He leans forward.

          "Ella, I'm being serious when I ask this. Is possible that we might be related?"

Ella

          I stare at blanket long and hard. He raises an eyebrow in response.

          "Blanket, you know, in the family of God..." I stop after the look I get from Blanket.

          "I want the truth" he says grimly, as Michael lets out a melancholy sigh. I turn towards Michael, letting him answer. He looks at all three children individually, all looking at him for answers.

          "Blanket, Paris, Prince..." he gets up and walks for center attention. All of us look up at his shadowed figure. He looked a bit distraught.

          "This is your sister, Ella Yelich O'Connor. Her mother and I, a long time ago, were together. We made a small, impartial mistake. We really tried to work through things, but it didn't work out. Your sister here came to Cali to record like she said. She just wanted to stay with us to get to know the family." The three children of his stare at each other in disbelief. Prince is first to surface, raising his hand like a young school boy.

          "Why did you leave her mom if she had a baby that was yours?" he asks solemnly, staring his father down. I blow a hair away from my face.

          "She told me aborted it" Michael answers bitterly, in a spoiled rotten manner. I huff, bringing all eyes toward me. Paris and blanket were giving me patronizing stares. Paris speaks up, popping out of her chair in rage.

          "How come you didn't say anything!" she yells in his face, but Michael stayed unfazed. He put both his hands on her shoulders, overpowering her in authority. She's still fuming. He had a smug expression.

          "You like Ella, as a friend, right?" she blinks twice, probably remembering previous events and nods, narrowing her eyes. Michael had a soft smirk.

          "So why don't you want her as your sister? A permanent friend? Blood is thicker than water." Paris rolls her eyes at his words, getting a scrutinizing look in return. She sat back down shooting daggers at me.

          "Why did you LIE?" blanket ells. I hang my head, avoiding the question.

          "I hate liars" he seethes, storming out of the room. Paris follows, leaving Michael, Prince, and myself. He stands up to meet his dad, shaking his head.

          "It's not okay to mess with people." He walked away. Michael wore a sullen expression turning towards me. He walks over slowly and quietly, his curls movements creating a swoosh sound. He looks down with a raised eyebrow and sighs.

          "Let the m calm down a little, okay?" I nod in answer to his request, my curls bouncing. He gestures for me to go stay in my room. I nod in agreement, hugging him before hopping up the stairs.

          I am screwed. 

Paris

          I sit in my room, seething. That bitch lied to me this entire time.

          I roll onto my stomach on the floor, groaning. I could hear Dad and Ella coming up, only making me angrier than I was. I was pissed.

          I hear a short series of knocks on my room door. It's Dad.

          I sigh in annoyance. "Come in." I hear the door squeak open as he comes in. I refuse to look up. He sighs.

          "Paris, you've been up here for an hour" he says cautiously. I mug him and scoff.

          "I don't like being around liars." He walks slowly towards me, cautiously, and puts a hand on my shoulder. He looks into my eyes, his own seemingly enlarging. I grunt.

          "Paris, you're being irrational. I told Ella specifically not to tell any of you. Would you have been as open if you knew she was your sister?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, a smile dancing among his lips. I roll my eyes, recalling what previously happened.

          "No, I would not have responded to her the exact way I did if I had known we were related." He gives me a look of suspicion, but brushes it off. Hey, a promise of secrecy was a promise of secrecy, no matter how outraged I was. It's a sisterhood thing. If you can kiss your sisters, but...

          "Paris, are you paying attention to what I'm saying!" Dad suddenly screeches at me. He's not mad, just irritated. When he's angry with us, well, let's just hope no one, especially the press never see that. They might think he's bipolar or something.

          Dad was snapping his fingers to get back my focus. I snap to attention. He smirks.

          "My point is, if you're to be angry with anyone, it should be me. Unfortunately for you," he gets up and helps me up as well so he's towering over me, "I'm your father, and you're my teenage daughter, so being angry with me for something that happened seventeen years ago, at a more appropriate age than most teenage pregnancies now days, is just going to backfire. You'll want more freedom, I'll keep locked in the house while your brothers get to do whatever, and we will develop a beautiful, hateful father daughter relationship. As you get older, you'll hate me with a passion and drift from your family and live in solitude, even though your career is booming." He ends with an Oscar smile. I smirk.

          "So your life, but simpler" I say, still smirking. He frowns and narrows his eyes, his hands clenched tight behind his back. He clears his throat.

          "You know, back when I was your age, if I said anything close to that  to my father, he would have beat me to nothin'." I roll my eyes to get my point across. I don't care. He groans stepping back shaking his head in disappointment. He was twisting his wrists raw to keep from losing it.

          "Little girl, you are going to come down stairs in fifteen minutes, ready to make peace between you and Ella. I love you, but I have better and more important things to do than deal with a, excuse my French, petty, time-consuming, dumb-ass argument between two hormonal teenage girls. I mean, I love both of you, but I'm BUSY!" Dad says in exasperation, waving his arms for emphasis. His brown eyes were inhumanly huge, that for a second, I had a split thought of posting a pic on Twitter or calling the family doctor.

          "Fine, I'll make amends, for your sake. That does not on any terms mean I forgive okay?" I say with a crooked smile. Dad gives me one in return.

          "Alright now, fifteen minutes Paris." I nod and take the time to breathe. Fifteen minutes go by like fifteen seconds, and I'm trotting down the spiral towards the kitchen. I see Ella standing there awkwardly, changed into some strange school girl outfit, twisting her wrists violently. Her eyes keep averting everywhere they settle like jumping beans as she taps her sock covered foot. I cringe at the sight and walk up quickly. As soon as she sees me, she smiles nervously, but I return a cold stare. She recoils quickly.

          I place my hands on her wrist-twisting hands. "Stop, please. It's making me uncomfortable." She nods obediently, stopping immediately.

          I release a huge I roll, but perk up quickly, knowing that the rest of my family was watching me, my father to be specific. I put on a fake smile.

          "Ella, I realized that being angry with you wasn't right. Will you forgive me for being disrespectful?" I say, using my best acting skills. She eats it right up.

          "No, it wasn't necessary. None of us did anything wrong, it was just a matter of shock and confusion. Will you forgive me for the secret?" a put on a huge fake smile. No, you lying, sleazy bitch.

          "Of course, I was just a little stunned, that's all." She lets out a sigh of relief. You're a sucker sweet cheeks.

          She wraps me in a warm hug. I hug her back for show.

          "I'm so glad you're not mad anymore!" she says with glee as she rocks me back and forth in the hug.

          "Me too Ella!" I answer.

          This bitch has no idea what's coming.

Paris

          "Hey Ella, how about we go on a few rides?" I suggest as sweetly as possible, a glowing smile on my face. She smiles in response, delighted. I guess she assumed that I'd forgiven her for lying to me like that. Well boy is she wrong. Ella drums her fingers on her leg, evidently nervous.

          "Sure, I'd love to Paris! When do we go?" I could feel the others watching me, but I kept going. They have to believe the act or it's useless.

          "How about now?" I say with excitement. I really need to become an actress. I have everyone fooled.

          "Alright, right now then!" Ella says in over done excitement. She knows she's in deep shit right now. She's been twisting her wrists violently, a habit she has when she's nervous or uncomfortable. It was kind of uncomfortable to watch.

          We walk out of the house on to the field, walking towards the rides. The sun was shining brightly, and the sky was clear. Perfect timing, the workers aren't out and it's only four in the afternoon. We both keeping walking in a rhythm.

          I lead towards the Ferris Wheel, making sure no one is coming near us or was around. I walk more slowly so Ella can catch up. We stand in front of thee ride, admiring its beauty. I snap out of it quickly though.

          "Ella, no one's here to operate the ride so we'll have to go one at a time, is that okay?" I ask, the gears in my head turning in my head, formulating evil. She nods in oblivion. I giggle mentally. It's like a princess story right now, the evil witch tricking the princess. I grimace and shake the thought from my head. I'm Daddy's little princess, not her.

          I go towards the operating area and motion for Ella to get in a cart. I give her a few minutes before she gives me the thumbs up. It's go time.

          I start the ride like normal, waiting patiently until she made it to the top. I stop the ride suddenly, like a malfunction. Ella immediately looks down, worry coating her face. I brush it off though. That is not my problem if the ride's ‘busted'. I breathe in and out slowly, pretending to be messing around with the controls. Ella calls down.

          "Paris, I s something wrong?" she asks from the top.

          "Uh-huh, I think the ride's busted" I say meaningfully. "I'll run in and get some help." I see a faint nod from the top, and soon Ella disappears. Perfect I think to myself as I run across the greenery inside. Dad was in the family room watching something. I decide to go and check on him.

          I walk quietly through the long hallway, workers running around cleaning and other gibberish. As I get closer to the family room, I hear a grunt. I keep my pace anyhow and quietly peek in, not wanting to be seen quite yet.

          My oh my, was it a scary sight. My father, good old-natured, patient, kind loving, and generally soft-spoken father, was seething. Hi already pale face was even more transparent, making his eye makeup pop, which made his ebony eyes pop. His eyes were ablaze, his dark, dark brown hair a tinge curlier. He was still in his clothes from earlier today, but he looked very changed. His fist was clenched so tight, his knuckles were translucent with anger, and his jaw set. His eyes however, stayed glued to the television set either way. I walk in cautiously.

          He takes a moment to pause the station (it's a setting for U-Verse television) and looks at me, his original anger softening. He sighs.

          "Paris, never trust anyone fully, okay?" he says sullenly, still as pale as copy paper. I nod in confusion, and then smirk.

          "Not even you, Dad?" He laughs at my suggestion half-heartedly. I smile a little to sheer him up. I decide to position myself on the couch, letting myself go. Dad returns my half smile and un-pauses the TV.

          "As the second half of the '80s commenced, Jackson began to emerge as a tabloid figure of some notoriety, mainly for his odd behavior and flamboyant eccentricities both real and imagined. While Jackson did in fact acquire a pet chimpanzee he named Bubbles and treated with what the press regarded as an anthropomorphic excess of attention and affection, he actually fabricated stories such as the well-known tales that he slept in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber to slow the aging process and had purchased the bones of the Elephant Man. This combination of unusual press backfired ultimately for Jackson, resulting in the appearance of his long-standing nickname Wacko Jacko, a pejorative moniker he would grow to resent terribly.

          Now years later, Wacko Jacko strikes again, responsible for the surgical procedure on a seventeen year old girl from New Zealand. Sources say that she is being mentored by Jackson in his Neverland home. The girl's parents approved all of this mayhem, even with Wacko Jacko's past history. Now, pack to the Fort Hood shooting investigation, Oprah?"

That's all the reporter get's in when Dad shuts the TV off. I hear a soft whimpering sound beside me. I turn slowly to see my dad crying. I wrap my long arms around him and hold him tight. His body is shaking with anger. I rock him back and forth for comfort.

"Really? I'm guessing you don't have much experience with heat.

Nope! But sometimes I like to close my eyes and imagine what it'll be like when summer does come.

Bees will buzz,
Kids will blow dandelion fuzz
And I'll be doing whatever snow does in summer
A drink in my hand,
My snow up against the burning sand
Prob'ly getting gorgeously tanned in summer

I'll finally see a summer breeze blow away a winter storm
And find out what happens to solid water when it gets warm

And I can't wait to see
What my buddies all think of me
Just imagine how much cooler I'll be in summer

Dah-dah, da-doo, a-bah-bah-bah bah-bah-boo

The hot and the cold are both so intense, 
Put 'em together, it just makes sense!

Rrr-raht da-daht dah-dah-dah dah-dah-dah dah dah doo

Winter's a good time to stay in and cuddle,
But put me in summer and I'll be a...happy snowman!

When life gets rough, I like to hold on to my dream
Of relaxing in the summer sun, just lettin' off steam

Oh, the sky will be blue,
And you guys will be there too
When I finally do what frozen things do in summer!

I'm gonna tell him.

Don't you dare!

IIIIINNN SUUUUMMEEEEEEEEEEEERR!!!"

I sang softly in his ear at first, and let it rip. By the end, we had sang together. It was probably a quarter till seven by now, but I didn't care. This is how our family should be I think to myself as I nuzzle my nose in my dad's shoulder.

Yes, this is how the Princess should be treated.

Blanket

          "Dude, so what's she like?" my best friend Skyler asks through the gaming console. We were playing Call of Duty. No, not playing, we were OWNING this game. Skyler's a dirty blond with long wavy hair and a slightly freckled face. She was a tomboy, explaining why we're friends.

          "Dude, you okay?" she asks pausing the game. I turn swiftly and glare at her. She looked genuinely concerned. I sigh.

          "I don't know, I guess she's cool and all, but she lied." She scoffs at my answered, not at all satisfied.

          "That's bull shit, Michael!" I roll my eyes at her outburst. She's a loud character that's sort of quirky. She rolls onto her knees and scoots closer. I narrow my eyes with every inch, the controller on the floor. She touches her nose with mine and hisses. See what I mean by quirky. I roll my eyes once more.

          "Ya gonna kiss me now or--."

          "Shut up Jackson, I'm feeling." I try my best not to move, closing my eyes. Skyler's special, and I like special. My dad says our situation is special. He says our family is special to. I'm not sure if they're different kinds of special, but it's special all the same to me.

          "Skyler?"

          "Michael, hush!" I groan audibly.

          "If you're gonna use my real name--." I don't finish because she smacks the back of my head. I'm quiet after that.

          After a few minutes, she finally let's go. She repositions herself to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the floor. I follow.

          "You're not upset because she lied; you're upset because this whole thing will cause more family drama. Didn't you guys just finish the whole allegation thing?" she says rather speedily. I sigh. Skyler can read me like a book, that's why we're friends. I nod in response, receiving a knowing squeal in return.

          "I knew you're dad has been too quiet lately. I mean, if this had happened before the trial and all, he would've gone berserk!" she says, flailing her arms for emphasis. I chuckle, but I guess it doesn't sound like one, because Skyler pats me on the back.

          "It's all right Ponyboy, things are rough all over" she says softly. I shoot her a look and she shrugs in oblivion.

          "It's in the book you're reading next year." Yeah, Skyler's older than me by a year. I'm about to reach for my controller when I hear a faint sound. I shoot up and run over to the window. My room is right next to the rides in Neverland, so sometimes I sneak out the window at night and go for a ride to clear my head. Anyways, I open the white framed window, the Ferris Wheel right in front of me. The entire ride looks empty from here...wait, what the hell is that?

          "Someone, get me down from here!" I hear a feminine voice screech.

          "Ella?" I screech right back, Skyler now behind me. We both look up to the starlit sky to see a pale face covered in curly mane look down. She looked scared. I immediately turn to Skyler.

          "Code fifty-eight?" I ask. She responds with a sure nod. I then jump out the window, head first.

          A sensation hits my body after a second and I'm caught, in a thick, cushiony leaf pile. I feel Skyler land next to me, and we roll off the pile of decaying leaves and run to the operation box. I push some buttons and a lever and the ride starts again, bringing a frazzled Ella back down. Skyler runs to help her out of the ride, and walks her towards me. Ella looked dazed.

          "Are you okay?" I ask as kindly as possible. She breathes in and out slowly, and then answers.

          "Your sister left me up there, since three this afternoon. What time is it?" she says in an unstable voice. Skyler pulls out her phone and shows her. Ella was shaking now.

          "Three hours. I stayed up there for three hours" she says in a shaky tone as we walk towards the house. "Did I mention I'm terrified of heights?" she says faintly. We walk the rest of the way in silence, Skyler still holding her. I open the door and all three of us walk into the dining room to meet no one. Skyler sits Ella in a chair, while we both stand.

          "Ella, you want me to get Dad?" I ask softly. She shakes her head violently.

          "No, no, definitely not. Your sister is dangerous and not to be messed with. I need to give her space and just, focus on my album" she says shakily. Skyler and I both sigh simultaneously, causing Skyler's eyes to pop.

          "We are now one person Blanket!" she squeals.

          "How'd this happen?" I hear a voice say from the end of the hall. Of course, Dad, that's just perfect timing. He has on a weak, forced smile. His eyes had circles and he looked sick.

          "We said the same thing at the same time." He nods slowly in confusion, still smiling.

          "Okay. Blanket, have you seen...oh, Ella, there you are!" he says tiredly. I instantly put my hand on his shoulder and pull him back, stalling. Ella's still shaking.

          "Dad, you look sick, you need to rest" I say frankly. He sighs and takes my hand off. He slouches his back, allowing me to see Prince. Oh joy.

          "Blanket not now please."

          "Hey Dad, can I go out with the others tonight?"

          "Mr. Jackson, did you get a haircut?"

          "Dad, seriously, you need to rest, you look horrible."

          "What's going on?"

          "Will you please--."

          "No, no, no I don't, give me a minute, and no more favors. I need to see Ella."

          "But dad--."

          "Dad--."

          "Mr. Jackson--."

          "But Daddy--."

          "NO, now wait. Ella are you okay? Why are you shaking, what happened to you?" Dad says, pushing through the crowd we had made. Ella was in deeper shakes. Dad takes her hand, rubbing them in his own to create warmth.

          "No, no. I'm fine, just need rest. No more questions, no more, just sleep. Good night everyone." She gets up and walks quickly away, still shaking. Dad turns towards all of us.

          "What did you do?" he yells in frustration at us.

Blanket

          We all stare at Dad in disbelief. He's never yelled at us before. Everyone steps back one time and stand in silence.

          "Did you hear me?" Dad booms. Paris shakes at his tone, but steps forward to answer.

          "I did it, Dad. I must've forgotten after awhile when I came in to get help for the ride. I'm sorry." Dad's face softens, but his eyes remain hard. Now it's my turn to speak up. I walk forward slowly, next to my sister and straighten my posture.

          "That's not true. The ride was perfectly fine. Paris just decided to leave her up there. The poor thing was freezing." Paris gives me the side eye, but keeps up the act.

          "Maybe the ride was slow--"

          "No, it's not slow. I sneak out my window all the time with Skyler to ride the rides at night. The Ferris wheel is anything but slow" I say quickly, cutting Paris off. I can tell from the narrowing of Dad's scrutinizing stare that I slipped up big time. I clear my throat and go in for a lame save.

          "Can you please focus on the problem at home? Paris left Ella up there to freeze. We might not have noticed her absence if it wasn't for Skyler's freaky universe reading skills." Skyler hits my arm hard. I roll my eyes in remorse.

          Dad's deep brown eyes are still scrutinizing all four of us. His eyes are cool and angry, but he says nothing.

          "Go to bed. All of you, we'll talk in the morning" Dad says in a hard tone. We all run off, the stairs rumble under or pounding feet. Before I make it to my room however, I feel someone drag me from behind with my shirt collar. After one big yank I'm on the floor. I look up to see an amazingly pissed Paris.

          Shuttle-bugs.

Paris

          I immediately hold blanket down, pinning his arms and legs. Before he can even say anything, I'm throwing punches at him in seconds, landing blow after blow on his puny little chest. I was livid. I hear several people coming down the hall and up the stairs, due to Blankets screaming. I feel delicate, cold hands pull me off him. The hands turn me around until I'm facing Ella. She looks tired, but her sapphire eyes are as icy blue. She uses her one free hand and slaps me in the face, hard. My face is turned to one side as she presses two fingers into my neck. I pass out immediately.

Ella

          Paris' body is limp in my arms as I hand her to her older brother. I walk over to a hysterical Blanket. I kneel down and cradle his fetal body. He's frozen into position. I rock him back and forth on the floor, looking up to see a very stressed out Father. He sighs.

          "Can you please take Blanket to bed Ella? Everyone else go to sleep. I need to think." Everyone nods and scurries off. I lift up Blanket's body princess-style. I walk to his room, lay him down, tuck him in, and leave a kiss on his forehead before going back to bed.

Michael

          I walk into my study and sit down in the chair. I close my eyes and think.

          What the hell am I going to do? Everything's moving way too fast. Too many things have happened in the seventy-two hours. It seems like Ella's causing problems without even being a troublemaker. I sigh in despair.

          "What am I going to do?" I moan. I hear a pair of heels walk into the study. I open my tired eyes slowly to see a worried Michellé. She walks closer and cups my cheek in a mothering manner.

          "Are theur alreight Mr. Jackson?" she asks sweetly. I nod slowly before vigorously shaking my head. She gives me a sympathetic smile and hug.

          "Go to bed, Mr. Jackson." I widen my eyes at her in shock. She had instantly lost her thick Yorkshire accent with the language. She giggles at my shock as she leads me to my room. Once we're there she closes the door behind her as she leaves the room. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep from mental exhaustion.

Genevieve

          "Abeje, come with me, Abeje" I say, guiding the young girl toward the doctor's facility. The young girl cowers, but I gently place my hand on her small, seven year old back, and gently push her forward. She goes without hesitation now, walking with me towards the facility.

          I love this volunteering. We're distributing vaccines in Nigeria. It was excellent timing, since my daughter, Ella, is recording an album, my other daughter, India, the sweet thing, and is visiting a friend in California, same area as Ella. Jerry, my other daughter, is in college already, and Angelo, my son, was accepted into a summer Europe retreat. My husband, Christophe, is on a Europe business trip, conveniently, so Angelo stays with him. Leaving me and my trip to Nigeria!

          Abeje and I walk into a doctor's office after I check her in. there's a television in the office running Nigerian news with an English caption. We're in an urban part of Nigeria.

          We both watch as the news soon switches to our dear Michael. I laugh a little, remembering our time together. I watch on in curiosity.

          It looks like he's taken another fan to the hospital.

          "No reports on what condition this young girl is in but reports have described her to have curly brown hair, blue-green eyes, pale skin and about five foot eight." I laugh at the reporters description. Sound so much like Ella, except she's 5'5". Speaking of Ella, I should call Benetta.

          "Hello?"

          "Hi Benny, how's Ella and India?" I ask, giving Abeje a reassuring squeeze.

          "They're great, did you wanna talk to them?" she asks.

          "Yes I would love to." I hear ruffling sound and some conversation before India comes on the phone.

          "Hey Indie!"

          "Hey, Mom. How's Nigeria" she asks solemnly.

          "It's great. Is everything okay over there?" I ask carefully. India breathes out deeply.

          "It's Ella. Ever since we got off the plane, she left. She hasn't been here for days. How come she gets to go out and record and I get monitored everywhere" India whines. I stop dead in my tracks.

          "What do you mean she hasn't been home in days?" I ask cautiously.

          "I mean she hasn't been home. Something about, ‘Going to find her real dad.' She can be so stupid sometimes. Christophe is in Europe."

          "Indie, watch your words.  What do you mean she left to find her real dad?" I ask frantically.

          "Yeah, she just took a cab there. And get this, she asked the cab to take her to Neverland. Silly, Ella, she's so stupid--"

          "Watch your language!"

          "Sorry" she says meekly. I sigh.

          "It's okay Indie; I'll talk to you later, alright?"

          "Okay, love you."

          "Bye, love." I hang up and go on to my phone to look through plane ticket bookings. Too bad there won't be a California flight from going west until I head back home. I'm determined though, to see my daughter, and stop this damage.

          I walk out of the facility with Abeje, who now has her vaccines, and find my boss.

          "Hey Ginny--"

          "Sorry Aaron, but I have to go and find my daughter.  I was really looking forward to helping this year." He gives me a warm, reassuring smile.

          "It's alright, Ginny. There's always next summer. You go ahead and do whatever you need to do. I'll see you back home." I smile at his kindness.

          "You're the best friend ever" I say giving him a quick hug before walking away.

          "Hence the name ‘Best Friend', Ginny. See ya later!"

          I run to my car and drive to the hotel I've been staying in. I arrive there shortly, pack the few items I had, load them and head towards the western part of Africa. I'll stop in Ghana, where my sister's husband's parents live, and visit them for a bit.

          And then off to Cali.

Ella

I woke up the next morning to a bright room, devoured by the California morning's sunlight. I stretched my pale arms and Ninja Turtle covered legs in satisfaction. I walk into the bathroom to prep myself. I leave my make up off and decide not to change quiet yet.

          I walk back to my bed and sit, reaching sleepily for my book to read. I feel an envelope and grab it, opening it eagerly.

          Ella-

          I'm so sorry for yesterday's events. I plan to deal with them soon, but first, I want to spend time with you. If you're going to be staying in my home, I will have to get to know you. We're going shopping today, so be ready @ 9.

Love,

Michael

          I grin, now opening my book. It's 6 a.m., so I'm going to stay lying in bed reading my favorite book ever created by an American- The Outsiders. I curl up in the bed, book in hand and start reading eagerly.

          An hour later, Michellé walks into my room, urging me to get ready. I resist at first, but she sashays over and pulls me up and out of my comfort area, and drags me by my underarms to the bathroom. The rug burns my heels.

          She sits me on the toilet seat and starts rummaging through my belongings. It takes me a minute to realize what is happening.

          "Hey, leave my stuff alone! You have no right. You have no right!" I wail from my seat. Michellé sends me an amused smirk, giving me the sudden urge to claw her eyes out.

          "Calm down and leave everything to me, okay?" she asks softly, without the accent. My mouth hangs open in shock as she giggles taking out my concealer and applying it to my face.

          "There, now you don't look like Casper, the friendly ghost" Michellé says with a giggle. I open my mouth in protest, but close it once I realize the truth. She laughs again, straightening her French maid uniform before grabbing an eyebrow pencil. I cock an eyebrow at her.

          She shrugs before saying, "To make a statement." I nod and let her define my eyebrows.

When she finishes, she reaches for blood red lipstick, and applies it gingerly t my lips, then fixes my hair to its usual swoop. She then has me stand, look at my image in the mirror- I look pretty damn good mind you- and takes me to the closet. She turns on the radio to some main stream station.

          I hear some old styled artist singing the lyric ‘love never felt so good'. I wrinkle my nose in confusion.

          "Who is this?" I ask Michele, who is swiping through the closet full of my clothes. She turns around, making her uniform swoosh, flashing me a pearly white smile.

          "Who does it sound like?" she asks kindly, pulling out a box-like red top and beanie. I hop on my Ninja Turtle covered bed and sit Indian-style, pondering. After a minute, I answer, "It sounds like another MJ wannabe. But then again, that's literally every artist nowadays, right?"

          Michellé looks like she's trying not to laugh at my answer. I roll onto my back before continuing. "I mean seriously, there all the same. Like, ‘Hey guys, let's all make songs about sex drugs and alcohol and then start a charity to make ourselves look like humanitarians'. I mean, I'm no humanitarian myself, but seriously, they're all the same songs with no effort and the artist don't even put their money into a cause that matters. I mean they're famous, god dammit, go help some damn kids in Africa!" I end in a roar, silencing Michellé into shock. She just stares at me with wide eyes, holding a pair of black skinny jeans and platform boots, while the song continues to play in the background. I blush in embarrassment.

          "Michael Jackson. It's Michael's song. Do you need to take your panic attack pills?" she asks quietly. I nod, standing up to straighten out my Ninja Turtles.

          "Yeah, I'll go do that."

          Thirty minutes later, I'm downstairs, changed into the clothes Michellé had pulled eating breakfast. I run my hand over the ebony dining table, letting my Cinnamon Toast Crunch get soggy. I'm alone in the dining room, or so I thought.

          "Oh, it's you." I brush off the comment, pretending it didn't sting. I cannot let her get to me. She pulls out the chair next to me and sits, facing me. I stare straight ahead.

          "Why are you dressed up?" she asks flatly. I shrug slightly, indicating my own confusion.

          "Dad's taking me out. I don't know where though. Michellé had to dress me." I feel Paris glare at me. I really wish she'd leave me be.

          "Cool."

          "Cool?" I ask in surprise, turning towards Paris. She has on a tightlipped smile and her bright blue eyes give me an icy glare. I give her a look of confusion.

          "What?" I ask. She shakes her head stiffly. "Nothing." I sigh at her answer.

          "What's wrong, Paris?" I ask exasperatedly. She gives me a smirk that could only be described as bitchy.

          "You."

          Okay bitch, that's the last straw.

          "What is your problem?" I snap, pointing an accusive finger.

          "You're my problem. Everything was better before you came" she says smugly. My mouth hangs open in shock. Didn't Michael teach his kids manners, or is Paris jus releasing her she-devil?

          I grit my teeth. If I respond, it will just give her more power. She must've mistaken my silence for victory, because she continues.

          "Besides, my mom and dad actually were married before having us. You, well, you were just a mistake made by to careless teenagers" she spats. I feel my breath catch as I back away, eyeing her like a monster. She snarls at me as I stand up, walking away. I don't get far, before I bitch-slap, tears burning my eyes.

          "So what if your mom married my dad! Where is she now? ‘Cause I don't see here anywhere!" I screech back angrily. Paris is holding the side of her face as she stands up slowly to meet my eyes. My platform boots make me taller than here, so I have to look down and her, up.

          "At least I was supposed to be here! You were probably supposed to be aborted!" she screams in my face, looking like she might cry. Tears stream down my face. I feel someone's presence at the doorway, but I disregard it.

          "At least my mom loves me! At least she didn't leave me!" I yell at her, making her cry with me. Her face is starting to get red and blotchy.

          "My mom may not be here, but at least I wasn't the product of some dumb fuck--."

          "Stop it!" a loud, deep voice booms from the doorway. After a few more seconds of teary glaring, we slowly turn to see the owner of the voice. A very upset Michael.

          He walks up to both of us, arms crossed over a black and gold military jacket. He's leaning his weight his weight on his right leg, tapping a loafer cover foot. His small nose is flared, making me slightly thankful for the broken nose he got as a teenager. I've seen my Aunt Benetta when she flares her nose. It's scary.

          His brown eyes burn us as he says, "You two...are supposed...to be sisters. Not enemies." He slowly directs his attention towards Paris. "I'm truly disappointed in you Paris. I've raised you better than this" he says sincerely. "But, let me straighten you right out and give you a nice dose of reality" he continues icily, "You both better be thank God that I'm so against physical discipline and that's how I was raised, or else I would have beat the living shit out of both of you, because you both have disrespected my family and myself."

          I shiver audibly at his tone. I feel frozen by his words.

          "Paris, Ella here is not the ‘product of some dumb fuck'. I loved her mother very much, and lost my virginity to her. Her mother and I had to go through a very hard time after she found out she was pregnant. Yes, Ella very much could have been aborted, but that is not an insult, that is just example of how cruelly religion can be used." His tone is reprimanding, as if trying to secretly message to Paris, ‘Yeah my situation ended out okay in the end, but I swear if you do what I did, I will fucking kill you'. Paris nods her head slowly, hanging it slightly in shame.

          Michael turns to me, his eyes now full of ice and tone spitting fire.

          "Paris' mother and I had an arrangement. She didn't just up and leave her kids. She also loves Prince and Paris deeply, thank you very much. Now, I swear if I see another quarrel because of the fact that you two have different mothers, I will not hesitate to slap you back to reality. You have been warned. Ella it is time to go. I will be in the hallway." He then leaves with the grace of a cat.

          Paris turns towards me and pulls me into a kiss...on the cheek. I pull back in surprise, giving her a weak smile.

          "What was that for?" I ask, brushing my beanie. She grins at me, her face still blotchy, her hair pulled back.

          "I'm sorry, Ella. I've been a real bitch, like wow" she says with candor, and slight realization.

          "It's fine, I would've acted like an unreasonable bitch too" I respond reassuringly. She cocks an eyebrow and I shrug. "I only speak truths."

          "She laughs putting out a hand to shake before saying, "Team?"

          "What team?"

"The dysfunctional family team, of course!" I laugh at her enthusiasm.

"Everyone's family is somewhat dysfunctional." She scoffs at my suggestion.

"Exactly, Lordey. We're on each other's team." I grin cocking an eyebrow.

"Lordey?" I ask, while shaking her hand. She shrugs.

"Yeah." I laugh pulling her into a hug. I'm just glad we're not trying to cut out each other's throats anymore.

"I need to go, so see you later?" I say. She nods eagerly, smiling. I flash a smile back, before running out into the hallway, past Michael and into the limo outside. He finally walks out of the house, wearing a small smile. He sits in the vehicle, closing the door, and the driver drives off.

There was nothing I could've done to prepare myself for the day.

Ella

          We pull into an outdoor mall thirty minutes later. The ride was quiet, not a word spoken. I guess Michael had a lot on his mind.

          "You really should stop calling me Michael" he says suddenly. I send a look of confusion to my right side. He's giving me a knowing smirk.

          "Did I say that out loud?" I ask meekly, my cheeks reddening. He nods, looking like he might laugh. I scowl, looking out the right window.

          "But, you were right, I was thinking" he says thoughtfully, now facing the same window.

          "About?"

          "About the difference between a llama and an alpaca" he says simply. I try my best to keep a straight face when I ask, "What's the difference then?"

          He sends me another smirk, a challenging one. "I couldn't come up with an answer."

          "Well," I start, bring my curls forward, "Llamas are evil and out to kill you. Alpacas aren't." I hear him giggle in high pitches as the limo slows. The chauffeur gets out to open our doors. I climb out to see a sunny outdoor shopping center. The stores are all lined up together in one large building. It really was an exquisite outdoor mall.

          "Come on" Michael says, taking my hand in his, dragging me to the walking area. I give him a bewildered look. "No disguise?" I ask.

          He shakes his head, smiling. "This is a membership only shopping mall. Most celebrities shop here. Either that, or you work here." I nod in understanding.

          "Where to first?"

          "Um, the Disney store" he says slowly, as if my question is ridiculous.  I laugh.

          "Why the Disney store?" I ask. He turns around giving me a small smile. "The better question is, why not the Disney store." I laugh harder.

          "It's all the way on the other side, so we will have plenty of time to talk" he says slyly. I give him a mock scowl. "You little son of a biscotti" I say, throwing an accusive finger. He laughs and we continue to walk.

          "So, you're her in Cali to record an album?"

          "Yeah, I start Monday. It's supposed to be an alternative album." He nods in understanding.

          "What are your songs about?" he asks.

          "Don't know yet."

          "What do you mean?" I turn to him, making him stop walking.

          "I mean I haven't written any songs yet" I say earnestly. His eyes flash with alarm.

          "What do you mean, you haven't written anything yet?" he asks carefully. I roll my eyes and slant my balance. "Who are you, Socrates?"

          "Ella." I lift my hands in surrender.

          "Okay, okay. I mean, I've written songs, it's just not what I want for the album. I don't want to write a bunch of love songs either. I'm not Lana Del Rey." Michael snorts.

          "What?" I snap at him. His eyes widen in surprise.

          "Oh, it's just that that Lana Del Rey's songs are usually about heartbreak so--."

          "Whatever." I hear him snicker before he finally speaks.

          "Just write what you know and you'll figure it out. Songs are just long poems that you sing to music. If anything, you should worry about the music that goes with it. To make sure it's a match. You got to balance the work or else you end up with a song like Selfie." I visibly cringe when he mentions the song, making us both giggle.

          "Well, here we are" he says suddenly, extending his left, cloth covered arm towards a shop. I look in to see Disney toys.

          "How'd that happen?" Michael smirks at me.

          "Well , my dear Ella, all you have to do is put one foot in front of another and--."

          "Yeah, yeah no need for sarcasm" I say in annoyance, walking in. I stare around in awe at the massive three-story Disney Store, full of toys. I probably might've fainted if Michael hadn't wakened me back into reality.

          "So, what do you think?" he asks expectantly. I sigh blissfully. "I think its childhood heaven!" I respond with enthusiasm, running to look at toys.

          We stay there for half an hour, looking through toys. We come back down from the third floor, holding three full baskets of toys for Michael's nieces, nephews, and himself. We walk to the cash in area to find one guy at the register.

          He has dirty blond hair smoothed back in a swoop with gel. His eyebrows are dark and rugged, complimenting his dulled blue eyes. His nose is slimmed, matching his long face. He has small pink lips, curled into an irritating smirking. He has on a smug expression, his full attention on me. I feel Michael behind analyzing the employee as well.

          "Well hello beautiful. I don't believe I've seen you around here before" he says suggestively. I internally roll my eyes.

          "I've been hiding."

          "I highly doubt it. Mr. Jackson would have brought you here within your first week in Cali. So I think that you've come here recently, or am I wrong?" I stiffen at his smugness.

          "You know, for someone who stands around all day wearing a mustard yellow polo and blue Disney sweater, checking kids toys, you sure are cocky" I respond with more venom then I intended. I can feel Michael send me a concerned look.

          "In more ways than one, sweetheart" he says in a teasing tone. I scoff and thrust the toy-filled basket on the counter. The cashier chuckles and starts scanning the toys.

          "So tell me, what brings you to Cali? You don't seem like the ditzy tanning type." I turn to Michael, who seems amused with the conversation.

          "I'm recording an album" I respond flatly, handing the cashier another basket.

          "Cool. What's your genre? You don't seem like the mainstream type" he says in a matter-of-factly.

          "I don't seem like a lot of types, do I?"

          "You also don't sound American. New Zealand is my wild guess?" I gasp in shock.

          "How did you--."

          "You don't seem like the Australian type either." I giggle at his response.

          "I do Alternative music. Now, why is a nice gent like you here slaving for the stars?" he has a slight blush on his cheeks and I hear Michael giggle.

          "Waiting for girls like you to come around" he says simply, accepting the basket I hand him. Now it's my turn to blush. Michael seems to be having a giggling fit behind me.

          "I don't know, I wouldn't think I'm your type" I say with mock scrutiny. He returns my look. "And why is that?" he asks.

          "I don't know. You see, you're a mainstream pretty boy and I'm an alternative feminist" I say. He seems to be taking offense to my statement but leaves it alone. He hands me the bags of toys and takes the money from Michael. He prints out our receipt and scribbles something on it before handing it to me.

          "It's my number. We should hangout sometime. I know a good fro-yo joint around here" he says handing me the receipt with a grin. I return the smile.

          "Okay, cool" I answer shyly before leaving the store, Michael in tow. "To Forever 21!" I announce as we start walking again. Michael's giving me a knowing look. "What?" I ask, confused.

          "Well, my fortune telling skills tell me that someone's going to have romance in their future. And I don't even believe in fortune telling" he says, wiggling his eyebrows. I scoff, and lightly punch him in the arm. "That kid isn't even my type!" I say indignantly. Michael laughs at my suggestion.

          "Who are your type then, sweetheart?"

          I roll my eyes before answering. "Well um, dudes like me."

          "Dudes like you?" Michael repeats mockingly. I nod furiously. "Do Goths work?" he asks.

          "Oh no, too dark and creepy."

          "How about emo kids?" he asks innocently. I snap my head at him and narrow my eyes.

          "You think I'm emo?"

          "I never said that."

          "I said, quote, ‘guys like me'. You think I'm emo? I mean seriously, do I look like the emotional type?" I say harshly, getting an amused smirk from Michael. "You see these arms, they're scar free!"

          "Cutting is just one of the many archetypes for emo kids, Ella."

          "You know what," I say pointing an accusive finger at his chest, "If anyone's emo, you're the emo one. I mean, you look like a fucking vampire from Twilight." Michael shoves my finger away before giving me a pointed look of disgust. I would've thought he was mad if I didn't see an amused glint in his eyes along with a disgusted and reprimanding one.

          He stalks of ahead of me, leaving my short legs to catch up. "The first step to recovery is denial Michael" I cry out as I catch up to him. I hear him giggle in amusement.

          "How about scene kids?" he asks, continuing our earlier conversation. I shake my head in disgust.

          "No Mic-I mean Dad, juts no. they're like wanna-be emo that are just too happy and peppy. It's like if a cheerleader and emo had babies, their child would be scene." He gives me a bewildered expression. "Okay."

          "How about-you know what, I'd rather not ask" he says, blushing. I smile sympathetically.

          "You were going to ask if I was lesbian. Yes, my dear, still secretly over-religious father, I am in fact a lesbian" I tease. He blushes redder at my sarcasm, clearly disturbed.

          "Weird, not the reaction I was expecting" I say thoughtfully. He turns to me in confusion. "What were you expecting?"

          "Oh my god, that plaid skirt is just adorable!" I cry out, walking inside XXI, towards a plaid skirt. Red, white and blue is such an awesome color combo.

          "Uh-uh bitch, that skirt is mine!" some random chick I've never seen before says, pushing me away from the rack I've just reached. I fall hip first on my side. I wince in pain.

          "What the hell was that for?" I hear Michael yell, running into the store. I grab his hand so he can pull me up. The girl is still filing through the rack of multi-colored plaid skirts.

          "I can't stand mainstream bitches snatching up clothes so they can start another mainstream fashion trend. They all ready did that with my combat boots here, and my platform heels in Britain. But no longer will this happen, I will protect my wardrobe--."

          "You crazy bitch! I'm not even mainstream! If you had fully looked at my outfit, you would know that" I yell in aggravation. The girl looks me up and down before shaping her mouth into an O-shape.

          "I'm sorry miss. I just wanted to come by here to pick up some clothes before I went to see my friend Julius at the Disney Store and--."

          "Wait, did you just say Julius, like Julius Caesar" I ask in disbelief. She nods, "Yeah, why?"

          I burst out laughing flailing my arms. Michael pins them to my sides to calm me down. The girl gives us a bewildered look. I take time to analyze her.

          She's a ginger with long, curled hair. Her eyes are brown, her nose resembles Michael's in a sense, and her lips are tainted with blood red lipstick, like my own. She has on a thin black hoodie, black skinny jean and all black Converse.

          "So, are you like Michael Jackson's daughter or something, or just some new charity case?" she asks bluntly, her eyes challenging. I writhe out of Michael's grip and slap her. The girl's hand flies to her face. She swivels towards the one cashier.

          "Aren't you gonna do somethin'" she screeches, flabbergasted. The cashier shakes his head. She growls at me.

          "You could've answered my damn question" she sneers, her coal eyes burning. I smirk at her, arms crossed. "Yeah, I could've but I already had to deal with bitchiness this morning. Wasn't in the mood for more" I answer simply. She scowls but gives me a small smile.

          "Daughter?" she asks knowingly looking at Michael. He shrugs, before whacking me upside the head.

          "Ow, what the fuck--." He sends me another whack. "You don't hit strangers. You shouldn't curse so much. Besides, I barely hit you" he says simply. I scowl.

          "You have a large hand" I protest. He rolls his eyes. "Come on you two, get your clothes and go" he says with smirk.

          "You two?" the girl asks. Michael shrugs. "This is the kind of thing friendships come out of. So go make peace with each and shop for clothes that aren't mainstream. I'll even pay if I have to." I widen my eyes.

          "Really?" He nods.

          "First you want me to make love with Julius, and now you want me to make peace with Ginger over here?" I ask teasingly, making him blush.

          "My names not Ginger its Rouge, thank you very much" Rouge says, making Michael and I laugh.

          "Is that legit?" I ask between giggles.

          "Yes it is." We immediately stop laughing. "We should go shop now" I say meekly. She smirks at me and starts throwing a plaid skirt in a basket she's holding.

          "See I told you, I knew you two would become friends! You even have her number now!" Michael announces as we walk out of XXI. I've looped my arm around his and look up at the sky.

          "You know, its bad luck to open an umbrella inside" I say knowingly. He scoffs.

          "It was already open." I laugh and say, "Rules are rules."

          "Good thing I didn't break them." We keep walking in a comfortable silence until a voice cuts the air.

          "Michael? Is that you?" I hear a feminine voice call. I look up at Mi-I mean Dad. He stiffens and I knit my eyebrows in confusion before trying to turn around, but he yanks me forward and picks up his pace.

          "Wha--?"

          "It's Debbie, keep walking. We do not need to deal with this right now" he says hurriedly. I come to a halt. Michael sends me a glare.

          "Ella! What are you--?"

          "Michael? Michael! How good to see you! Who is this beautiful young lady?" Debbie asks, now in front of us. I made Michael turn around.

          "I'm Ella, ma'am" I respond sticking a hand out for greeting. She shakes it, turning to Michael.

          "Are you mentoring her?" she asks curiously. I turn to Michael. Seriously, this whole Dad thing will take some getting used to.

          "Um..." Michael starts, contemplating his options.

          What's he going to do? Is he going to tell her? If so, what will happen?

Ella

I stand still and look up at Michael. He looks down at me, sending me a look that says, ‘What do you want to do?'

I give him a responsive look. ‘Your call.' He sighs, visibly thinking.

"Are you okay, Michael?" Debbie asks with concern. Michael nods, un-knitting his eyebrows. I nudge him encouragingly. He sighs, gesturing towards me.

"This is my daughter, Debbie" he says slowly, in a very cautious tone. Debbie's eyes widen, giving me a once over before staring at Michael with shock, and a very small glint of pain. I'm pretty sure Michael didn't notice.

"Prove it" she says suddenly. I narrow my eyes at the suggestion, shifting my weight to my right foot. How do I do this? What unique ability does Michael have, that most don't? Then the answer hit me.

"I can snap" I say suggestively. Debbie gives me a look of mockery.

"You can snap? Anyone can snap." I feel my blood boil. I turn to Michael to see a worried look of doubt on his face. My blood boils even hotter.

"It's not the snap it's self, it's the volume" I say with emphasis. They both send me bewildered looks. I sigh realizing my point won't get across. I back a good six or so meter away. I look up to see they're having a whisper battle.

"Hey" I yell, mentally giving myself a pat on the back for getting the perfect pitch. I walk, snapping my fingers. I see them both visibly jump at the noise. As I get closer I snap both fingers, causing them to cringe. Soon I'm directly in front of them snapping my fingers in their face.

"Stop it!" Michael yells. He brushes his palms on his trousers before continuing. "We get it; you have an abnormally loud snap. Your point?" he asks, looking rather annoyed. I disregard his emotion.

"Bad album era, Tatiana Thumbtzen, The Way You Make Me Feel short film. Bystanders during filming sated you have an abnormally loud snap" I state factually.

"But how do you even know that?" he asks, looking amazed and uncomfortable. I shrug, "I did my research."

"Okay, you're ‘related'. I'll talk to you soon Michael?" Debbie asks hurriedly. Michael nods and she walks away quickly. Michael sighs, sitting down on a nearby bench. I follow, pulling out my cell phone and the Disney store receipt. I add Julius' number and call him. After three rings, he answers.

"Hello" he answers, sounding in a rush.

"Hey it's Goth chick from earlier, I say smugly, accent thicker than normal.

          "Hey, I'm glad you called. I'm kind of in a hurry right now trying to call a cab, can I text you when I get one?" he asks, stress coating his voice.

          "Yeah sure, totally. Talk to you later" I say hanging up. I look up at Michael to see he's animatedly debating with someone via phone.

           "No. I said no, okay? We're not adding angels to the performance. There is too much going on already. No, she is not wearing a freaking unitard for Partition. Figure out a different costume. No extensions, the public likes her short hair. No, don't change anything. Beyoncé is flawless. No, this is not favoritism. Jay-Z can figure out his own shi--", I give him a warning look. He rolls his eyes. "Shenanigans himself. I don't even know why I try." I giggle as I receive a text.

          ‘Sry bout that, couldn't get a good cab'

          ‘It's fine. Wher r u goin'

          ‘my cuz's bday party. What r u doin'

          ‘Oh nothing, just wonderin' bout that date Julius'

          ‘Ugh who told u?'

          ‘The who doesn't matter Jules. So what's our date?'

          ‘Hm. Thers a carnival 2moro around noon ;)'

          ‘Sounds good. Pick me up?'

          ‘You got it; we can get fod on the way ther'

          ‘sounds great. Can't wait to go'

          ‘C ya l8er ;)'

          ‘byze ;)'

          "So...going...date...huh?" I hear Michael mumble. I send him a look of confusion.

          "So...going...a date...huh?" he mumbles again, looking directly at me.

          "I can't hear you" I say softly. He huffs in frustrations, his eyes as dark as coal.

          `"SO YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE TOMORROW...HUH?" he booms. At least fifty people turn our way, and I flush a deep red. Now the mall has to be crowded?

Michaels gives everyone a menacing look. If looks could kill...

"What the fuck y'all looking at?' he yells, causing everyone to scurry and mind there on business.

"Someone's on their man period" I mutter, so only he can hear. He glares at me, so I smile. "Yes, I do have a date tomorrow, thank you."

He grimaces. "You haven't been here a week and you already have a date?" he asks, truly miffed. I shrug.

"My strange ways and creep-like manner lure people" I say casually.

"Does he even know your name?" he asks with concern.

"Nope! And I like it that way. Makes him want more, you know?"

"No, I don't know" Michael says irritably. I rub his thigh, making him squirm.

"Hey, calm it" I say before giving him a good slap on his knee and walking to an exit. It was five o' clock, and there isn't anything I can't buy online.

"Ella!"

"What, Paris? I'm changing!"

"Put on a robe and come here!" I sigh. It's already Saturday, the day for my date. I shuffle in a bright red robe down the stairs through the dining room into the kitchen. I sit in the dumbwaiter, press the floor button and drop. I hop out, stepping into the library, and find the science fiction and fantasy section and pull The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, the old copy. The entire section flips and I step into the human-sized empty shelf. It flips once again revealing a manga library, lit by blue lighting, unlike the sunlit library. I walk towards a wooden door, opening it to find wooden stairs; I climb up then and open a white-painted wooden door. I open to find Paris, lying on her bed, scrolling on her cell phone. She looks up with a smile full of trickery.

"Took ya long enough."

"Hey, I was in a robe, a silk robe" I protest. She rolls her eyes before grabbing my hand and pulling me towards her closet. I feel my pulse speed up.

"What are you--?"

"Calm down, I'm just getting out one of my dresses I wear to family day for your carnival date. I know you don't own a sundress" she says confidently. I open my mouth to say something, but close it when I realize it's the truth.

"That's what I thought. Here's my light blue one, it shows off no cleavage, it compliments my eyes, so it should compliment yours. Here's a pair of lace, crème Toms too. Come on, change so I can do your make up" she says, looking at me expectedly. I raise an eyebrow and she returns the gesture.

"We're both girls, I'm not a lesbian, and we're related. Change right here, Ella" she says in a matter-of-factly. I sigh, taking off the robe and throwing on the dress. Paris smirks.

"What" I ask. She shrugs.

"Nice boobs" she says nonchalantly, before handing me the shoes. I tilt my head slightly.

"Thank you? I'm glad you like them?" She laughs at how flustered I am before pulling me into the bathroom for makeup.

She does my usual makeup job of eyeliner and plum lipstick, since I put on everything else earlier. She did the cool French braided, donut bun with my hair.

"You look so, adorable! Oh, I love it, love it, love it!" she screeches, hugging me. I laugh.

"You do realize that I, being seventeen, am two years older than you?" I ask.

"I know, I just don't care. Ooh, it's eleven fifty-nine! Prince Charming will be here any minute. Oh, I almost forgot, I pre-packed your purse" she says, handing me a crème-colored satchel.

"Thanks. By the way, he's more of a Roman emperor to my Cleopatra" I state, walking down the stairs.

"As double-meaning as that sounded, I'm pretty sure Cleopatra was Egyptian" Paris says walking beside me.

"Cleopatra was actually Greek, so I fit the part fine" I retort, earning an eye-roll.

"Whatever, smart-ass." The door bell rings, signaling that a visitor has been let inside the gates. Seconds later I spot Michelé opening the door and accompanying, Julius.

"Hey Jules" I say, walking into the hallway. He's dressed in plaid shorts, the cool kind not ugly ones. He wore white converse and a diagonally blue and green striped, gray shirt. He's smiling.

"Hey. Ready to go?" he asks, offering his hand. I take it and nod, being lead out to one of Santa Barbara's special black cars, like the ones in London.

"Cool" I say as we walking closer. I swing open the door for him.

"Hey, that's my job" he whines playfully. I smirk.

"Just trying to be a lady" I say simply. I hear him mutter, "Just trying to be a feminist". He earns an elbow to the rib before the driver speeds off.

Ella

   I feel myself fidget during the ride, tapping my fingers, smoothing my braid, braiding the strap of my purse. Julius turns to me.

          "Hey, there's no reason to be nervous, what could possibly go wrong?" he says calmly. My eyes widen before I slap his arm lightly.

          "Why'd you have to say that?" I whisper-screech, panic coursing through me. He gives me a look of confusion before coming to his senses.

          "What's wrong with what I said?" he asks innocently, before giving me a mischievous smile. I growl at him. He knew perfectly well why. If I get murdered today, it's his fault.

          I search through my purse, for chapstick, or lipstick. It drives me nutty when my lips feel dry.

          I gasp when I find what Paris put in my bag. I feel myself redden.

          "What's wrong? Is something wrong?" Julius asks, leaning in to see inside the bag. I snap it closed and smile at him sheepishly. He smirks.

          "C'mon let me see. It can't be too embarrassing" he says with encouragement, but I shake my head, forgetting how to speak. He shakes his head and starts tickling me.

          "No, stop it, it tickles!" I screech, laughing and flailing around. He stops suddenly, but I feel an absence in my hands. My purse!

          "Okay, let us see what's in her, eh?" he says, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. I widen my eyes, horrified. I try to lunge for the bag, but Julius gives me a challenging look, so I give up.

          "Alrighty then, nice to know you're cooperating" he says diligently. I roll my eyes at him; he smirks. "Let us see here. Your cell phone, some tissues, eye drop, makeup bag, chapstick, pepper spray, taser, doctor prescribed pills, ibuprofen, two pads, two tampons, a pack of spearmint gum, birth control and golden wrapped condoms" he says nonchalantly, a smirk and raised eyebrow on his face. I groan in embarrassment. Paris, ‘karma's' going to beat your ass later.

          Julius laughs at my red cheeks. "You're adorable when you blush. Let me guess, your sister packed your purse for you?" he asks knowingly. I nod my head, to mortified to say a word.

          "What did you do?" he asks jokingly. I shrug, "Being born I guess?" I respond, half joking. He laughs anyhow. He has a nice laughs, not to deep, not too squeaky. His voice is nice too. Intoxicating even, just so full of fun and mischief.

          "Ella" he sings, waving his hand in my face. "I know I'm beautiful, but..."

          I push him over, laughing with him. "Oh shut up, Jules." He scowls at the nickname.

          "If I'm Jules, you're Royal" he says indignantly, puffing out his chest slightly. I grimace.

          "How about Queen Bee? I don't want to be a royal, I'll never be one" I say a matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes.

          "Fine, Queen Bee it is. Aren't you going into the music business though?" he asks softly, getting out of the black car to open my car door. I step out before answering with frown. "Yes, I just wish that with being number one, fame wasn't involved. I've seen what it's done to people my age. I've seen its effect on child stars. I don't want to be the next Kurt Cobaine, or Paris Hilton, or Lindsey Lohan, or even the next Michael Jackson, legend of the decades. I don't I could handle it. I might kill myself, receiving all that attention" I say shaking, lowering onto my knees into a fetal position, Julius comes and hugs me. It warms my insides a hundred times over, and makes my limbs tingle.

          "You have an anxiety disorder, don't you?" he asks once I finally stand. I blush again, embarrassed. He smiles at me anyhow, pointing to my purse. The pills, I finally remember, taking out the bottle to pop one in my mouth. I turn to him to find him playing with his hands.

          "You can run I'm giving you permission" I say with a sad mile, violently twisting my wrists. Damn it, I thought I had quit that habit. His eyes soften as he steps closer, grabbing my self-destructive wrists.

          "No, never. Let's at least finish this date before I make any decisions" he says with a wink, pulling me into the carnival.

          "This is exactly what I've always imagined carnivals to be like" I say after we get off The Detonator. It's person who has a phobia of heights nightmare. I loved it.

          My family never goes to carnivals or theme parks back home. It's not that they're not there; it's the fact that the majority of my family can't stand the rides, so we don't go. I've been to theme parks with my friends before, but never a carnival. I love the rush rides give, but my mom and sisters hate it. With my brother, it's a boy's thing, so I guess I got my thrill seeking personality from Michael.

          "Want to get some drinks?" Julius asks me. I raise a suggestive eyebrow and he laughs.

          "No not that kind" he says in mock annoyance. I smile.

          "Then sure. But I've got to warn ya, the chick from earlier who was checking you out works there, so she might roofie your drink" I say. Julius laughs at my statement.

          "So should I give it to you?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. I laugh, "I don't know, should you?" Our fit of giggles draws attention from bystanders.

          "We shouldn't be laughing this hard! This is a serious problem among teenagers!" Julius says through giggles. I laugh harder. We laugh all the way to the slushy stand, brushing hands. Julius finally catches my hand in his. I look over at him and smile the tingles I get impossible to ignore. No one's at the stand, so we wait.

          "Do you feel that?" I ask lowly in his ear. He shivers before asking, "Do I feel what?"

          I sigh. "Do you feel the tingles? The warm tingles going up your arm?" I ask. He scrunches his nose in confusion.

          "See", I let go of his hand, the warn tingles leaving my body. He grabs at once, smiling, "Tingles, nice warm tingles that envelope you in happiness."

          I nod at the statement. I look up to see a familiar face.

          "Rouge?" I ask, examining her in her red, white and blue striped uniform. Julius is grinning. Rouge's cheeks are rouge as she looks down at us. She smiles weakly.

          "Yup, I work here. It's one of my many jobs" she says, preparing a slushy. Julius snickers while she shoots him a glare, handing him his slushy. She glances down at our linked hands and smirks.

          "On a date, huh Julia" she says slyly, an inside joke coating the statement. She hands me a cherry slushy while Julius glares at her.

          "Yeah, and it's not going to end up like the others" he says, his eyes coding her to shut up. But if rouge and I are anything alike, she's not going to listen.

          "So, Julia, did you pass that test?" she asks, her words in code. Julius groans, bringing up his hands and my hand up to fold together. Oh I seriously love these tingles.

                   "Yes I passed the test, the teacher said I got lucky this time" he says in annoyance, his words also coded. I roll my eyes.

"You two don't have to talk in code, I'm not an idiot" I say candid, "Jules is a womanizer, and had to go to a doctor to get tested for an STD. I mean c'mon, I'm not five."

They both blush before Julius speaks. "You can run I'm giving you permission" he says half-jokingly, repeating my early state meant. I lean in, touching his nose. He closes his eyes.

"No, never. Let's finish this date before I make any decisions" I answer pulling back. We thank Rouge for the drinks, which were free, and moved on to the carnival games.

Michael

          Hickory Dickory Dock,

          The mouse went up the clock.

          The clock struck one,

          The mouse fell down.

          Hickory Dickory Dock.

          "Sleep? Where are you?" I ask myself at midnight. All day I've been dealing with business. My own career, Ella's career, enrolling the kids for classes.

          I wipe my face with my hands. The phone rings on my mahogany desk, so I pick it up.

          "Hello, this is Michael speaking" I attempt to say with energy.

          "Michael Joseph Jackson, if I don't kill you when I get there" a woman on the other line says. I scrunch my eyebrows.

          "May I ask whom is speaking, ma'am?" I say politely. I hear a sigh on the other end.

          "You seriously don't remember me?" the woman asks with agitation. I roll my eyes before answering.

          "I'm sorry but have we met?" I ask tiredly, leaning back in my swivel chair. I hear the woman scoff.

          "We had a baby together Michael!" I groan at the statement. I am not in the mood for Billie Jean business.

          "I'm sorry ma'am, but I really don't have time for funny business. I am a very busy man and I--."

          "It's Ginny, Michael. Genevieve Yelich. Mother of Ella Yelich  O'Connor. Michael what is our daughter doing over there?" she says in exasperation. My eyes had widened at every word.

          "Ginny? Is that really you?"

          "Yes it is. I'm in New York right now, waiting for my flight to Texas. Now answer my question."

          "She came looking for me. I happen to be friends with some people at the recording company she's working with. I'm taking her to her first session tomorrow." Silence was Ginny's response.

          "So she knows."

          "Yes she does. And so do the kids." Ginny sighs and I grow tired. It's 12:15 at night, I need some rest.

          "Michael, I'm not ready for this. I need her to go back to my sister and her sister--."

          "Ginny?"

          "Yes Michael?"

          "I think we should ask Ella what she wants to do. I hope you realize how headstrong the girl is. If she actually wants to stay here and you make her leave, I'm honestly not sure if she would forgive you."

          "How long has she been over there?" Ginny asks with surprise.

          "Less than a week. But you already know I'm a quick learner. I still think we should seek her opinion before we make a decision." There's a pause before Ginny speaks again.

          "You know I have full custody, right?" she says, almost in warning. I snort.

          "No, you do not have full custody." I'm smirking at her oblivion.

          "Wait, what?" I chuckle before answering.

          "You see, after you pulled the miscarriage card on me, we broke up, am I right? You see, I mourned for a little bit, but something in my gut told me something wasn't right. So I did my research, found out you lied and made sure someone went in the day Ella was born to get me custody."

          "But you didn't even help raise her!" I roll my eyes. I must admit, I turn into a smart ass when I'm tired.

          "I knew I'd need it someday, but I still respected your decision. Now Ginny, as much as I'd love to continue this pleasant conversation, I'm tired and need sleep. Good bye!"

          I hang up the phone and stand up. I'm way too worn to even try and make it up stairs. I'll just take the couch.

Ella

          I get up the next morning at five. I take a few minutes to reminisce last night's date, before getting ready for my expedition.

          Operation: Go Through Dad's Stuff.

          I brush my teeth and wash my face, not bothering to change. I look for the second door in the bathroom and go through it. I go down the stairs to open another door. I do a silent fist pump. His office.

          I decide to not dig to deep and look on the surface. After thirty minutes of going through business files, I finally found what I was looking for.

          His one shot files.

          Paris and I had spent some time discussing song ideas. We came up with nothing, so Paris suggested that I look at some artistic creation of Michael's.

          I run upstairs with the stories. There are at least fifty one shots in here. I flip though them until one catches my eye.

          "Ribs huh?" I ask myself. I read through it and cringe at how much it reminds me of home.

          "It's like he's writing my life story" I joke. At least I found some inspiration. I write down the lyrics as they come to me.

          When I'm done, I try singing the whole thing through to the music in my brain.

          "The drink you spilt all over me

          ‘Lover's Spit' left on repeat

          My mum and dad let me stay home

          It feels so crazy, getting old

          We can talk it so good

          We can make it so divine

          We can talk it good,

          How you wish it would be all the time

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          This dream isn't feeling sweet

          We're reeling through the midnight streets

          And I've never felt more alone

          It feels so scary, getting old

          We can talk it so good

          We can make it so divine

          We can talk it good,

          How you wish it would be all the time

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          I want ‘em back (I want ‘em back)

          The minds we had (The minds we had)

          How all the thoughts (How all the thoughts)

          Moved round our heads (Moved round our heads)

I want ‘em back (I want ‘em back)

          The minds we had (The minds we had)

          It's not enough to feel the lack

          I want ‘em back

          I want ‘em back

          I want ‘em

          You're the only friend I need

Sharing beds like little kids

And laughing till our ribs get tough

But that will never be enough"

Perfect! Michael will love this.

I hop off my bed to return the files back. When I come back up it's only seven. Since Paris is still asleep and we leave at ten, I decide to go for a run.

As I rush outside, the nice weather envelopes me. I decide instead of just running around, I'll take my bike to a nearby Starbucks. I look down at my attire. A red fleece sweater, legging and Doc Martins, in black of course.

I snort looking at my dark brown satchel. Seems like my brain was already set on Starbucks huh?

I run to go and find one of the bikes for guests and head on my way. I already made sure to text Paris about my coffee run.

I feel the breeze on my skin, enjoying my last few months of freedom. I watch a limo pass by while waiting at a cross walk to see at least ten tabloid motorcyclists following it. Ridiculous.

I cross and park my bike, walking into Starbucks. I give them my order and Paris', since she answered my text. I take my cotton candy flavored coffee and finish before leaving.

I decide to browse the plaza-like area. I feel someone following me, but I ignore it.

When I reach Charlotte Rosé I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around and nearly have a heart attack when I see who it is.

"Long time, no see, Ella" the young man says with a smirk, grabbing my wrist. My breath rate increases as I try to pull away.

"Now, now, don't want to cause a scene now do we. Let's move outside." The man pulls me out of Charlotte Rosé with an evil grin. I keep tugging away. I would scream but my voice is gone.

Once outside, he turns to me. "Miss me?"

I start to have a panic attack. I clutch my stomach trying to get air while the man gives me a strange, yet pained look.

In all my hyperventilating, all I can get out is, "Justin?"

Ella

          I rustle through my bag, trying to find my pills. I finally come across a translucent, orange bottle, covered in white paper with text. I open the bottle and pop a blue, circular tablet in my mouth.

          I look up to see a very bewildered Justin. He offers his hand, and I take it, puling myself up.

          "Why the fuck are you here?" I snap harshly, my panic turning into anger. Justin smirks.

          "I wanted to see my lovely Ellie."

"I thought you were jailed?" I ask slowly. He shrugged before going into deep thought.

"My case was a ‘guilty until proven innocent kind of case, thanks to you" he explains slowly. He then grins, "Let's just say I had a very good lawyer."

I scoff, before slapping him.

"You raped me!"

"You liked it!"

"I was ten, let it go. You should be in jail!" I shouted. A few pass-byers stopped to stare, so I flipped them off.

"But I'm not. So I guess I did nothing wrong" he answers nonchalantly. I kick him in the shin, but he grabs my wrist, squeezing them painfully.

"So, you're gonna be a pop star, huh?" he asks, still squeezing. I grit my teeth in pain. It felt like my hands were going to pop out.

"You know, I never remembered you saying you were the King of Pop's love child" he says lowly. I bite my lip to keep from yelping. He finally lets me go, lifting my chin.

"You know, I really do regret what I did to you" he says sincerely. I snort.

"You regret raping me, or getting caught?" I say with venom. He leans closer, and I look around. Where are all the people? There were a bunch of them here not too long ago.

"I regret hurting you Elle" he says with sincerity. I look directly into his eyes, reading them. They were sincere.

I sigh, nodding. I need closure and reconciliation. If I accept the apology, I can have that and let go of the angst forever.

"I still love you Elle--."

"Ah ah ah, don't even start" I say, shutting down his claim. He opens his mouth to peak again, but I beat him.

"You see this?" I ask him, circling my face with my fingers, "This, is the face of a minor. You're probably 26, 27 by now. I'd really appreciate it if you'd just leave me alone.

Justin gives me sad eyes, but nods. "I get it, you need time to explore. Just remember, I'll be waiting for you." He then turns and walks away. I let out a relieved sigh, and then sprint off to my bike to ride home. I need to escape these crazies.

I'm running when I smash into a blonde teenager.

"Hey, watch where you're going, punk. Wait- Ella?"

I look up to see a blonde version of myself staring down at myself. Blonde Ella was dressed in a flowy, yellow sundress and gold sandals. She had on a sunflower hippe-band.

"Ella?!"

"India?!"

Ella

          I'm running when I smash into a blonde teenager.

"Hey, watch where you're going, punk. Wait- Ella?"

I look up to see a blonde version of myself staring down at myself. Blonde Ella was dressed in a flowy, yellow sundress and gold sandals. She had on a sunflower hippie-band.

"Ella?!"

"India?!"

"What are you doing?" India inquires, raising a judging eyebrow. Words are caught in my throat as I try to respond. So I do the next thing I could think of.

I run.

I run and keep running with my half sisters latte in hand, all the way back to my bike. I hear India following, but I know I have the advantage with her in sandals. I put the latte in the front holder, hop on the bike and ride away.

I keep pedaling until I get home, my legs burning from the sudden exercise. I return the bike and head inside. As I walk through the wood-clad hallways, I check the clock. I've been gone for three hours.

"Ella? Is that you?" I hear Michael ask from the kitchen. I walk through the doorframe to be tackled by him.

"Oh Ella! You had me worried!" he says warmly, nuzzling into my shoulder. I returned the warm embrace.

"I was only gone for three hours. I picked up some Starbucks and checked out some of the shopping centers" I say simply, handing Paris her drink. She thanks me then sits.

Michael gives me a look of skeptism. "No, you were in trouble. I could feel it."

I give him a look, but he waves it away.

"It's been like that since you were born. I could always tell when you were in trouble, but could never help you. But now I can, so tell me what's wrong" he states, letting me go to fold his arms. My mouth opens a bit and he smirks, nodding in confirmation.

I sigh, realizing there was no escape from questioning. I motion to the dumbwaiter and he nods. I walk over to it, climb inside and drop down. When I get to the library, I send it back up. Michael follows soon after.

We walk over and sit where there is a table and to comfy chairs. When we settle, I fold my hands, take a breath and speak.

"Justin is no longer in jail."

I watch Michael visibly become defensive, almost like a cat.

"How do you know, Ella?"

"I spoke with him. I told him that I have forgiven him for his faults, there will never be an ‘us' and to leave me alone in general" I answer stoically. Michael's features become even more cat-like. His face and eyes even start to resemble an agitated cat. I rest my hand on his.

"I am fine Mi-I mean, father. I believe it'd be best if we just filed a restraining order" I say kindly. He nods slowly, still in cat mode. Then his face breaks out into a grin.

"A Cheshire cat."

"Wait, what?" he asks, frowning in confusion. I purse my lips. I said that out loud, didn't I?

  "Yes you did?" Michael answers with a giggle. I slap my forehead before changing the subject.

"You know, I ran into my sister while I was there." This seems to hold Michael's interest.

"Really? What did she say?" I snort.

"I don't know. As soon as we recognized each other, I ran." Michael laughs that beautiful laugh of his.

"That's a coincidence" he says thoughtfully. I shoot him a confused look.

"Your mother called" he explains solemnly. I rise up my hand to keep him from continuing. I'm not in the mood to deal with this problem.

"Father, I'm tired. How about, you tell me how mother and you met, eh?" I ask, distracting him. He cocks an eyebrow, catching on, but continues on with me.

"Alright, well the story goes something a little like this..."

          Michael clutched his brown satchel tightly. He bore a navy, wool winter coat, dark jeans, and high tops, Nikes to be more specific. His hands were shaking badly and his Bambi brown eyes were wide. He looked outside his personal black car to see the University of California, Santa Barbara campus. It was huge, neat greenery covering the fields.

          Michael twisted his wrist nervously as the car slowed to a stop. He sighed, getting out of the car gingerly. He paid the driver and walked in.

          The university was quite vacant, with it being six in the morning. But Michael was new, and had a ton of things to situate before starting his first official class. He asks the front desk secretary for instructions, and he leads him down a black carpeted hallway into an average headmaster's office.

          The female headmaster sat patiently at her desk, her hands folded in front of her. The headmistress was quite old, wrinkles carefully set around her face. Her hair was perfectly white, appearing shiny against her tan skin.

          A young woman sat in front of her desk, leaving a chair. Her chestnut curls bounced as she whipped around. The headmistresses steel gray eyes settled on Michael carefully.

          "Well isn't this an honor? Hello ,Mr. Jackson, welcome to University of California, Santa Barbara. Take a seat so we can discuss your schedule" the Headmistress greeted. Michael nodded gratefully and sat down.

          "I am Headmistress Stone. This here is your schedule" Headmistress Stone started, sliding Michael his schedule. He takes it gratefully, nodding at her words.

          "This is Genevieve Yelich, one of my highest achieving pupils. She will be mentoring you in all your classes. You applied for high academic courses, correct?" Michael nodded, glancing at Genevieve. Genevieve stayed stone-faced.

          "Who would have guessed that Michael Jackson was such a high achieving student?" she said with a laugh. Michael smiled with her.

          "Thank you ma'am. Is that all you have to tell me?" Michael asked apprehensively, holding himself back a bit. The Headmistress nodded before letting out a joyous laugh.

          "So eager to learn! Genevieve, there's still an hour left before students start filing in. Could you please show Mr. Jackson around campus?" Genevieve nodded, rising out of the chair, waiting for Michael to follow. Michael gathered his papers and quickly followed Genevieve, walking through the door.

          Genevieve shut the door securely before shooting Michael a look.

          "What?" he asked innocently. She shrugged.

          "Mrs. Stone and I looked over your academic files. I would have never guessed you were so gifted" Genevieve stated simply. Michael blushed.

          "Thank you." Genevieve shrugged again, "No problem."

          The two students walked down the hallway and around the school, discussing things about classes and other items. Of course, there were awkward pauses and plenty of romance-like tension, neither student addressed it. At least until...

          "And here's our first period" Genevieve announced, leading Michael into the room. Michael followed easily, choosing a seat. Genevieve sat right next to him.

          "Hey Ginny--." Genevieve shot him a deadly look. He shrugged defiantly, receiving a sigh.

          "Yes Mika?" Michael shot her the same look and Genevieve shrugged the same shrug.

          "W-would y-you, uh, maybe, like, um, maybe, you and I--." Genevieve shushed Michael ending his embarrassment.

          "Sure, let's go out. Gypsy Rose Café after classes?" she asked bluntly, saving him the trouble. He blushed

          "Okay. Yeah, that sounds cool." Genevieve smiled and kissed his cheek right before the first student came in. The girl was blonde and shuffling in before clamping a hand on her mouth.

          "Y-you're Michael Jackson!" the girl shouted, running over. Michael laughed, getting ready for a day's worth of squeals.

          "So it was pretty much like that" Michael's voice breaks through my slumber. I giggle.

"Mom asked you out!" I say with amusement. Michael reddens and I laugh.

"Silly Daddy!" Michael looks down at me warmly.

"You dreamt about it?" he asks. I nod.

"Vividly" I answer with a yawn. He pets my head since I'm lying in his lap.

"Sleep, you are tired" he states. I nod, hugging on to him as I drift into slumber.