In the heart of the summer of 1970, Michael Jackson and Madeline Winters met, and at once, the children became inseparable. Underneath that summer sun, an imperishable connection blossomed between them; a connection that, across their passage to adu...
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Saturday, August 22, 1970
Madeline
With my rolled up orange sleeping bag tucked beneath my arm, I skipped into the living room, where Dad was. He was sitting on the navy blue couch chair. As he crossed one leg over the other, he held today's issue of the Los Angeles Times in front of himself, reading a section about the Dodgers—the city's beloved baseball team. When he heard me enter the room, however, he lowered the newspaper to his lap.
"All ready!" I told him, pointing to the sleeping bag beneath my arm.
Dad began to fold the newspaper up. "You packed all your things?" he asked.
I nodded as I placed the sleeping bag beside a small overnight bag on the glass coffee table. "Yes," I replied.
"Pajamas?" he asked, and I continued to nod. "Toothbrush? Toothpaste? A change of clothes?"
I smiled. "Yes, Daddy," I emphasized, giggling. "I triple checked."
He smiled in return. "Well, even if you did miss something, luckily, you won't be very far," he said.
Joy sparked within me. "Yeah," I replied.
Tonight, Mike and I were having a sleepover at his house. Considering that all summer we'd been having the best of times together, I was brimming with eagerness. I couldn't wait to see the thrilling adventures that awaited us at our sleepover. There was no doubt that when we'd be in each other's presences again, magic would surround us.
School was going to be starting for me in about two weeks. Around that time, Mike and his brothers were going to be releasing their newest album—Third Album. The Jackson 5 was also going to start rehearsing for their tour as well, which would resume in October. Mike and I had been spending almost every day together this summer, but that'd be coming to an end soon. We dreaded this. I tried not to think about how we'd no longer be seeing each other every day, for the thought of that upset me. But I knew that I had to learn to adjust to my best friend's fame.
When Mike decided to tell me about the Jackson 5 at last, he'd been elated to see my reaction—which only made me happy. After he'd learned that his fame didn't matter to me, I'd never seen such great relief and glee fill someone's gaze before. It was obvious that he was feeling much better after the revelation, as his worries had been eating him alive. I was also quite elated because he now knew that our friendship was most important to me.
"Hello?" I then heard Grammie call from the entryway, having let herself into the house. She was quick to step into the living room, dressed in a shin-length teal dress and holding a paper bag with her arm. I smiled. "It's so quiet. Why's the radio off?" she asked us.
I hurried over to embrace her. "I was reading the paper," her son responded.
"You know that music brightens the atmosphere, James. You can multitask," she told him. As he chuckled, she wrapped her free arm around me to complete our embrace. "Hi, dear," she said, meeting my eyes from above.
