I remember when he started to hate his fans…hate his brothers…hate his parents for letting them do it…and then he started to hate me because I was always there. He was always different and no one else saw that. Everyone described and still describes him as this boy who has beautiful long golden hair and caramel eyes. His hair was once beautiful…but not anymore. His eyes were never caramel…his eyes were too sweet to compare to any candy. It felt like a sin to see him as everyone else saw him. I knew he was different, I just couldn’t see it until it was too late.

We used to sit on the curb in the corner of their road. That’s another thing…everyone thinks that his special place is the tree house…when did he ever say that? Never. Our special place was the curb right in the corner of the road in front of his house. We would just sit there and talk…until the fans discovered where they lived. At first he thought it was the greatest- you have people screaming just for him and his brothers. Then he got annoyed with it; he couldn’t go outside with Wicket without someone flashing a camera. Then it was the never-ending tour schedule. I started to get upset when Mr. Walker and Mrs. Diana started encouraging more concerts and photo shoots. They started to get caught up in the glamour. But there was nothing glamorous about it to him. What was so great about only getting a shower twice a week? What was so great about singing songs that meant nothing to you anymore? What was so great about never seeing your friends and being labeled as a girl or a homosexual just because of your hair?

It was a lot for a twelve year old to pick up. He played the drums so well because he loved the drums and it let him get rid of his anger. Every night he would call me and say goodnight.

“That’s what I love about you,” I said to him once.

“What is?” He asked.

“That you always say goodnight,” I replied with a smile.

It made him smile too. He would ask me what I thought he looked like. I told him the first time that he looked like a great guy with blond hair, deep brown eyes, and a great smile. The second time I told him a guy with long golden blond hair, caramel eyes, and puffy perfect lips. He got so mad at me because I was seeing him just like the people he hated saw him. I was becoming a fan.

When he turned thirteen and his voice changed so did his prospective. Suddenly he wanted a girl friend; suddenly he couldn’t break any traditions. He always had to say goodnight. He started to hate his parents for encouraging the invasion of his privacy. He started to hate his brothers for changing. Everyone thought he was the only changing. But it was the other two that were changing. When he was fourteen and everything really starting to go well for them he hated me for always being there.

I didn’t understand and it upset me, but then I finally understood when he called one night on his sixteenth birthday.

“I thought you hated me?” I said to him with tears in my eyes.

“I hated you because you are always there and you are my friend,” He said.

“But I don’t understand…that’s what friends do,” I said with confusion in my voice.

“Exactly,” He said.

“I still don’t-“ I started to speak but he cut me off.

“I love you Ashly…you just don’t get it!” with that he hung up the phone.

He just told me he loved me…I looked out my window to see only the Hanson’s living room light on, I saw the door open and he came out and started the car. I had to tell him I felt the same way. I made it out the front door and felt the cool air change in my breath. I shut the door to hear his car driving off down the road. I saw the lights on the back of his car reach the end of the street and he was about to go onto the congested main road. When there was a loud honk of a horn and the breaking off glass. In the night I could see a huge trail of lights from every house in the neighborhood go on as I watched his car fly into the air and turn and land upside down. A huge tracker trailer had just hit him like a freight train would hit a car on the railroad in it’s way. I started running down the street.

Taylor Hanson opened the door to look down the street.

“Ashly? What the hell was that?” I heard Taylor call me as I ran.

“Taylor! It was Zac!” I yelled with tears pouring from my eyes.

Soon I heard the rustling of jeans and Taylor’s footsteps behind me. We both reached the end of the road and the truck driver was cussing and kicking his truck.

"I think the kid's dead..." The truck driver said to us.

“Zac?” I bent down to look into the car.

“Ash?” A weak voice came.

“Oh God Zac!” I touched his bloody forehead.

“Zac!” Taylor was soon by my side.

Taylor reached in and grabbed Zac’s cell phone.

“I’ll get help,” Taylor breathed in deep running his fingers through his hair, "Just...keep him alive?"

“Shit…I screwed up,” Now tears of pain were flowing steadily from Zac’s brown eyes. His beautiful brown eyes. I finally saw it…there in the last minutes of his life. He was special…I saw him for who he was.

"Zac, Taylor calling for help..." I couldn't bear to look at him, he was in so much pain.

“I love you Ashly,” He managed to speak with a painful wince.

“Zac, I love you too.” I cried.

“Don’t cry…” He started to breath raspy.

I touched his face, "I’m so sorry for everything.” I swallowed hard.

“What if I never said I’m sorry, then I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and then I hear my spirit callin I wonder if your longing for me, and then I know that I can’t live without you…” Zac sang.

He coughed gasping for air.

“Shh…help is on the way,” I soothed him.

“ZAC! MY BABY!!!!” I could hear Mrs. Diana scream running up the street.

Zac gave a hurt and painful look as that voice pierced that silence of the night.

“Good night Ashly…” Zac said holding my hand as blood seeped from the cuts on it.

“That’s what I love about you,” I smiled…”You always say good night.”

He smiled too and then his eyes fluttered shut.

“No Zac…” I whispered, “Good night.”

He was gone…dead. His life was taken away from him. I saw him how he wanted me to see him in his last breaths…but now it’s too late to tell him.

“Good night Zac,” I kissed him on the forehead with tears running down my cheeks. I would never be able to hear him say good night to me ever again.

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