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.