Book 5- 1969 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 13- The Move

                Chapter 13- The Move

                Date: Monday, August 4, 1969

                Time: 5:33AM

                KAYLA'S POV

"Ah, curse it!"

My voice reverberated off the walls of the room I shared with Charles, down the hallway, and probably to the point where Michael could hear me. But I didn't care, not any longer. I was much too preoccupied with last-minute packing to really care much about my temper.

Standing back, I growled at my school knapsack. Because no-one really had a couple suitcases for me to spare, I was obligated to shove everything I had into a one case, a couple bags, and my school knapsack. That wasn't much of an issue, seeing how I was going to get new toiletries and wardrobe once we were moved, but I had a ton of things that were necessary: toothbrushes, hairbrushes, snacks, flashlights, journals, clarinet... the list went on.

I had somehow managed to fill every one of my bags to the top, and I still had a couple things to fit in. Of course, they weren't necessary, but I did like to entertain myself with things other than the Jackson 5, my clarinet, and sketching. However, the way things were turning out, I figured that I would never be able to fit my beloved Nat King Cole vinyl into the knapsack.

"Never mind," I grumbled to myself. "I'll just go without it for a month, just forget it here and ignore my desire to listen to him and..." I knew I was getting myself worked up, but that didn't stop me from complaining to myself.

"Kaywuh!" Charles stumbled into the room, slamming the door to the wall in the process. He hugged my leg tightly and didn't let go, either. "Oh, Kaywuh, Kay-laa, Kaywuh," he mumbled. His grip only tightened.

It was fine at first, but the pain was beginning to get to me. "Hey, uh, Ash? Could you please- Oh, Ash! Let go!" He pinched my lower thigh.

Typically, he would have been laughing by this point, but it seemed as though Charles had something else on his mind today. Reluctantly, he detached himself from my leg and gradually distanced himself. He held a stare with me, of course, and he appeared okay, but I could tell something was off.

"You alright, buddy?" I questioned. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothin'," was his response. "I jus' wanna say goodbye," he chirped. "Where are you going?"

"California," I simply explained. "It's very, very far away, several states over."

His eyes widened. "Why are you going?"

"I... have work. I know it sounds strange, but I have to work. Don't worry, though; you'll see me soon enough."

"I'm not COMING?" He gasped heavily.

Ah, darn it! Why'd I have to say that? I'm such an idiot, such an idiot. "But we'll be back together soon! I'll even get a toy for you, Charles." I chose to keep my part of the conversation going. "And think about it, you can have the whole bedroom to yourself. You will get more time with Grandma and Dad. And you'll have no set bedtime!"

It suddenly dawned upon me that he really wouldn't have a set bedtime. I was the only one who enforced bedtime upon him. He could stay awake until early morning. He'd have trouble even getting the adults' attention. He could be neglected, for goodness' sake.

"But I wanna be with you!" He wailed.

"Ummmmm.... Elijah!"

My Dad's husky voice boomed through the hallway. "Yeah?"