Book 3- 1967 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 11- Welcome, Johnny

                                                          *****Not entirely true, but Johnny was important.

                Chapter 11- Welcome, Johnny

                Date: Wednesday, May 31, 1967

                Time: 4:12PM

                KAYLA'S POV

I tapped my foot impatiently while staring at the clock. I knew that Jermaine and Marlon were by my side, doing the same thing. In fact, all of the group was. That is, except for the one absent member. The one absent member.

Milford. He knew darn well that practice began at 3:45, and it was past 4PM. He was still not here yet, and none of us had a clue as to where on this Earth he could be at. We all just figured that he either went home to sleep, or maybe stopped at the store to fetch a Slim Jim. However, he was always on time. This was not his typical behavior.

We were all curious as to whether or not he was even at school today.

Michael jumped on the loveseat a few times, dust puffing out each time he landed. "What do- you think would- happen to make- Milford- be absent?" He panted a couple times.

I shrugged, my body swaying each time he bounced. It sure looked like a lot of fun, but I knew just how mad Joseph would be if he caught me trying to 'break' his already-broken couch. I'll bet that even Rebbie would be mad.

"Hey, Dad!" Tito called, a little more than irritated. His tapping became more frequent, and his eyes were wide as they could be. Michael and I edged away, defending ourselves in case he ever got out of hand.

"Joseph, but what?!" he barked. Even though he was in the kitchen, his voice was very up-close. Then again, it may have had to do with the fact that the kitchen was two steps away from the living room.

Tito rolled his eyes annoyingly before continuing. "Where is Milford?"

"At his house!" Joseph replied as casually as he could. I heard the pshhhhhh of a beer can being opened. I wrinkled my nose at the mere sound.

Wait, I thought, at home? Was he sick?

"Is something wrong with him?" Jermaine asked, edging away from Tito, as well. He glanced back and forth between Tito and the wall separating the kitchen and living room, probably hoping for the barrier to magically dissolve.

"No," Joseph replied even more nonchalantly than the first time. I heard him as he slurped out of his can. I was literally on the verge of vomiting.

"Well then, why is he at his house?" Marlon questioned. He shot a semi-fierce look back at Michael, who was still gallivanting from one end of the loveseat to the other. Michael was beginning to wind down now, but attempted to carry on with his series of leaps. He sure wasn't a quitter, not by any means!

"'Cause," Joseph muttered, "he is."

Jermaine rolled his eyes. "Well, why isn't he here?!"

"BECAUSE," Joseph shouted/whined, "he doesn't need to be!"

"Why not? He's- he's the drum player!" Michael finally asked, throwing himself on his butt, gasping for breath. He whispered to all of us in the living room, "That can take the breath outta you."

"No, he isn't," Joseph replied, his tone of voice automatically reverting back to the bored, almost melancholy tone of voice. Strange.

"Okay," I spoke up, "what on Earth do you mean by that?"

Before Joseph could answer, the door to our house opened. I expected someone like Rebbie or even La Toya to pass through, but of course, they were both at home early today. Instead, a completely unfamiliar face came striding in. He looked nothing like the Jacksons. In fact, he didn't resemble anyone that I knew of in the region. He was tall-ish, maybe Jermaine's height (which, in all reality, isn't that tall), and... he sort of had this funny-looking smirk plastered to his face.

"Hey," he replied, his tone of voice more laid-back than I had ever heard before, "where's Joe? He said he had a deal for me."

"Uhhhhhhhhhh...," Tito drawled, his eyes not trailing off of this person, "in the kitchen... Why?"

"'Cause, Joe said I could work for some cash. I'm a good drum player, he can give out the bread. That's why I'm here, is for the dough." He threw his rather large knapsack on the floor and picked out a series of drums. 

As he took his cymbals out, I yelled at Joseph. "Who is this person, and why is he here?!"

Joe stomped out of the kitchen, looking worked up. I'll bete that he was about to give me a piece of his mind before he spotted the little guy in the doorway. "I'll- oh, haha. Ahem," he cleared his throat a couple times, "guys, meet your new drummer, Johnny Jackson. Milford said that the band was getting too famous for him, so he quit. Now, we've got ourselves a real experienced drummer! He even has the littler drums and crashy things!"

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Do you mean, the cymbals?"

Joseph never responded to the question. Instead, he straightened his back and clapped his hands, producing his trademark thunderous sound. "Alright! Get in your places! Johnny, my man, I want you to step behind Jackie right there, and... oh... good." Joseph gave all of us a thumbs up.

"So, um, is Johnny of any relation to you guys?" I questioned, eyeing the new recruit up and down as if he were much tinier than I was.

Joseph shook his head immediately. "No, not at all. We just coincidentally have the last names. Now, places!" He turned around, most likely hyping himself up for the rehearsal.

As I headed towards the back to the organ, Michael, Marlon, and I all exchanged our glances before anyone could look.

We heard Johnny's and Jackie's voice in the back. Johnny prodded his back several times before he finally snapped. After Jackie turned around, Johnny asked if he had any duct tape for his drums.

We knew then and there that Johnny Jackson was going to be trouble.