After the unfortunate events during the shooting of the 1984 pepsi commercial Michael befriends an unlikely girl in the hospital. And there starts the beginning of their very tumultuous journey.
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I'd run out of the hospital room faster than a kid on Christmas day from their bedroom to the living room. I was embarrassed and scared. Embarrassed because here I was ranting and raving about my life to what I believed to be a comatose Michael Jackson when really he'd been faking. Then I was scared because I was sure he had sicked one of the many bodyguards on me and I was going to get busted for giving a patient a facial without their caregivers consent. Not only would I be banned from the hospital, which wouldn't be an entirely bad thing, but I was sure they'd call HIPPA and I'd get my momma in trouble.
So I ducked off into the bathrooms to hide from whomever was looking for me and to take the opportunity to wipe the concoction that I'd made from off the white and red stripped dress I was forced to wear. And as I wiped away spots it was like more appeared. I'd even gotten some on my shoes and at my white socks I had rolled down around my ankles.
I wiped as much of the mess off as possible as I heard the commotion of outside as if someone was coming in the bathroom then I heard my mother's voice. "Yes sir. I am so sorry. Let me see if she's in here. If she is I'll happily bring her back to the room."
I lost it, looking around frantically. I ran into the open stall, locking it and then jumping onto the toilet seat. I'd almost fallen back, but stretched my hands out on either side of the stall wall to keep my balance. The outside noise quieted as the bathroom door creaked shut.
"Zaria..." My mother's voice was tight and I knew now was not the time to play hide and seek, but I didn't want to get in trouble. If she found me before she had time to calm down then I'd be grounded until I left for college or wherever I was going after graduation. "Zaria, child, if you don't stop playing with me."
Her hand pressed into the stall door and I saw her white tennis shoes underneath the opening. "Come out of here," she demanded. "Now."
I looked around as if something in the small stall could help me with my mother's growing rage. I stepped down slowly and reached to unlock the stall door. She pushed it open, holding an expression that I was all too familiar with on her face.
"I can explain," I quickly defended myself, holding up my hands.
She folded her arms and her eyebrows rose as she waited for my explanation. Truly I had nothing to say or any way to validly explain myself. I stumbled over my words hoping a good lie would come to my head.
"Zaria why is Michael Jackson's bodyguard looking for you?"
"Um..." My eyes looked around the room at everything but my mother. "Maybe I forgot his jello?"
Her jaw clenched and she tightened her folded arms. "What did you do?"
"I I I... I did nothing! He faked being in a coma! Then when I was going to give him a facial on that pale skin of his I just--"
