It was the year 1988, the year I turned 18 and found out Michael Jackson came back to California from his Bad World Tour. I've always wanted to meet him, but my family, well, mainly my brothers, won't let me meet him. I wasn't a happy camper until I had met Michael Jackson.
I was sitting in my room with Kelly, the little girl I was babysitting. She and I were like sisters. We were jamming out to Michael's Thriller album, until we heard a horn honking.
"That must be my mom. I better get going." Kelly said.
"Alright. I'll walk you to her car." I told her.
Kelly got her things together and we walked down the stairs and to her mom's car. She got in and her mom handed me $50.
"Thank you for watching her, Rebecca." She said.
"It was no trouble at all, ma'am."
Kelly waved goodbye and I waved back as they drove off. I went back inside quickly because it had started to rain. I grabbed my sketchbook and started drawing. After a few minutes, my brother Eric came in after he got off school. He was wet, but not soaking wet...and he stank. I could tell he was practicing for basketball.
"Hey sis, what are you doing?" He asked.
"None of your concern..."
He was gonna argue, but he let it go and went to his room. I looked at my picture and realized that I had drawn Michael without a shirt on. I quickly drew a shirt on him before anyone could see it. After I drew the shirt, I was about to close my sketchbook...until Ricky, my other brother, snatched it from me.
"Hey! Give that back! It's personal!!" I shouted, trying to grab it back from him.
He held it over his head and chuckled when I tried to get it by jumping. He loved torturing me and he always teased me about my drawings. He looked at the picture I had drawn and sighed and tossed my sketchbook out the door and into the rain.
"No!! My sketchbook!!"
I ran outside and grabbed it and went back inside.
"You need to quit drawing Michael Jackson. He's not the same." Ricky told me.
I muttered, "I don't care...he's still the same to me..."
I then went up to my room and closed my door, wanting my privacy. I couldn't stand the fact that my brothers were preventing me from dreaming of meeting him. I put my sketchbook up and changed out of my clothes and into my pajamas. When dinnertime came around, I wasn't even hungry...until I had been smelling fried chicken and knew that it was from KFC. I rushed downstairs, got a couple pieces of fried chicken and ran back to my room. I turned my music on and the first song that played was one of my favorites...Smooth Criminal. I ate my 2 pieces of chicken, threw away the bones and jumped into bed, listening to my music and eventually falling asleep, dreaming once again about meeting Michael Jackson.
I was sitting in my room with Kelly, the little girl I was babysitting. She and I were like sisters. We were jamming out to Michael's Thriller album, until we heard a horn honking.
"That must be my mom. I better get going." Kelly said.
"Alright. I'll walk you to her car." I told her.
Kelly got her things together and we walked down the stairs and to her mom's car. She got in and her mom handed me $50.
"Thank you for watching her, Rebecca." She said.
"It was no trouble at all, ma'am."
Kelly waved goodbye and I waved back as they drove off. I went back inside quickly because it had started to rain. I grabbed my sketchbook and started drawing. After a few minutes, my brother Eric came in after he got off school. He was wet, but not soaking wet...and he stank. I could tell he was practicing for basketball.
"Hey sis, what are you doing?" He asked.
"None of your concern..."
He was gonna argue, but he let it go and went to his room. I looked at my picture and realized that I had drawn Michael without a shirt on. I quickly drew a shirt on him before anyone could see it. After I drew the shirt, I was about to close my sketchbook...until Ricky, my other brother, snatched it from me.
"Hey! Give that back! It's personal!!" I shouted, trying to grab it back from him.
He held it over his head and chuckled when I tried to get it by jumping. He loved torturing me and he always teased me about my drawings. He looked at the picture I had drawn and sighed and tossed my sketchbook out the door and into the rain.
"No!! My sketchbook!!"
I ran outside and grabbed it and went back inside.
"You need to quit drawing Michael Jackson. He's not the same." Ricky told me.
I muttered, "I don't care...he's still the same to me..."
I then went up to my room and closed my door, wanting my privacy. I couldn't stand the fact that my brothers were preventing me from dreaming of meeting him. I put my sketchbook up and changed out of my clothes and into my pajamas. When dinnertime came around, I wasn't even hungry...until I had been smelling fried chicken and knew that it was from KFC. I rushed downstairs, got a couple pieces of fried chicken and ran back to my room. I turned my music on and the first song that played was one of my favorites...Smooth Criminal. I ate my 2 pieces of chicken, threw away the bones and jumped into bed, listening to my music and eventually falling asleep, dreaming once again about meeting Michael Jackson.
