“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Mind you own business-uh…Yeah, yeah man. Sorry.”
“How ‘bout you two?”
“Maybe.”
I stood by as the three sophomores, maybe juniors, stepped out of the corner and moseyed their way down the hall. One took a glance back and I shot a death stare back at him.
That left one person in the niche at the end of the hallway where nothing good ever happened: my adopted sister.
“What are you wearing?”
“It’s a skirt, Tony.”
“You left the house in jeans and a large jacket.”
“And I changed when I got here.”
“You can’t wear that.”
“Why?”
“Did you see the eyes on those guys?”
“Yes.”
“Michaela.”
“Anthony.”
“We need to get to class.”
“Fine.”

I took a step back as Michaela picked up her backpack and stepped into the light of the hallway.
I hated the skirt and the top she wore…namely because she looked so good in it and I couldn’t even compliment her without sounding like some kind of perverted freak coming on to his sister, even though I always had something for her as far back as grade school.
It was a little difficult back then, what with her hitting me all the time.
Maybe I was a bit of jerk, but I blame that on my friends and her short temper.

She knocked two of my teeth out which required braces and an implant to replace one of the molars. I never told my parents who had beaten the crap out of me. I kind of took it as a ‘she likes me’ kind of thing and didn’t want anyone to get in trouble.
She grew on the south side of Hell and her family was against her. I wanted to be more of a friend, and something more but I was a stupid kid. The only thing I could, the thing my parents told me when I ‘kind of’ talked about her was to just pray for her. I prayed…a lot…some of them being prayers through about with the wrong head.
If you get my meaning.
Anyways, someone’s prayers were answered when my parents picked me up from school and brought me up to the church where I found Michaela crying in the hallway. I just ran up to her and said that she wasn’t going to be alone anymore. She was going to be a part of our family.
And yeah, that’s kind of where my problem escalated.
She told me of some of the things that happened to her, but she would get quiet a lot and spent a lot of time in her room and talking counselors. We talked sometimes but it was usually just her because if I started, then I’d have to tell her how I felt about her and, well, that it would an issue.
It had become one before.
“What’s wrong with the dress?” Michaela asked as we walked down one of the hallways at Prattville High School
“That’s like a dish towel, not a dress.”
“Humph. Dish towel. Wrong fabric.”
“Not much fabric.”
“You like it it, don’t you?”
“Don’t you ask me about my opinion.”
“I know your opinion,” she said with a smirk and I could feel my cheeks flush to a fiery red.

As I said, Michaela did that to me. She always knew how to push everything in me.
There was one time that we almost took everything to “that” point, but I pulled away as I didn’t want to “start” anything up with her than I already had. I’m not sure not she took it. She was nice and happy but there were times she looked at me with a scowl.
We attended a private school, Autauga Academy, instead of Prattville High School; where we went to the year old. Dad obtained a teaching position at AA and shifted us over. I had issues with changing schools: I had friends, I had position on the football team, and I had a girlfriend…I mean once Michaela technically became my sister, I had to take proverbial and literal cold showers for a few weeks until I was able to completely remove the sophomoric, platonic, and psychosomatic feeling I had for her out of my mind. I could be “big, even though she was older than me” bother and try to keep her out of trouble with Dad.

“That is so out of regulation.”
“Everything’s out of regulation at this school.”
“Only your clothes. Didn’t mom give you money for new uniforms?”
“This is my new uniform,” Michela replied as she motioned her hands down to her hips.
“And if dad sees it?”
“Then I’ll deal with it, Tony. If he sees it.”
“He sees it.” A voice spoke out from behind that made us both stop in our tracks. “Don’t turn around. Get to class. We will talk about everything later.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
Michela took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Yes, sir.”
We accelerated our pace to our classes.

I spent the remainder of the day worrying about what was going to happen. If I told the truth of what happened, then dad would get on Michela’s case and then—in turn--she would be on mine with a vengeance. However, if I lied about what happened then I would have my conscious bothering me for the end of time: a cloud of existential dread that would not clear up until I fessed up—and THEN it’s all compounded with the first situation.
I made a stand and refused to lie to my parents. Michela would just have to hate me…as much as that would hurt me. I soon felt a sudden pain in one of my tooth implants.

At 5:00, we ate without a word spoken about what had happened earlier in the day. I would look at Michaela and her eyes would glance to dad and then back to me. Neither of us wanted to bring it up but we both knew judgement was going to come.
“Great dinner, honey,” Dad said as he gave a smile to mom.
“You’re welcome, dear. Tony, Mica, can you help me with the dishes?”
“Actually, they’re going to do the dishes. Right?”
The two of us looked at the two of them. I had to wonder if this was the punishment or if it was a test to see if we were going to go against a parental request, again.”
Michaela was already on task as she started to gather up plates “Will do, right Tony?”

Usually, when Michaela volunteered to do anything while under duress, she had an alternative motive. Maybe this time would be different: she would do the dishes because she accepted the punishment and wouldn’t try to sneak out to wherever she went out to. She knew I was aware of her sneaking out and could easily tell mom and dad, but I never did.

That night was no different as shortly after midnight she snuck out her bedroom window and onto the roof.