Taylor stared up at his house from the end of his driveway. Uncomfortably he shifted the backpack on his back and trudged down the road slowly.

No one was going to miss him. No one. Well Zac might and Isaac might miss him a little bit too. If they ever forgave him. And that’s only because he sang with them. It wasn’t as if he was loved by them, or anything.

Plus he had just fought with them all. So of course they wouldn’t miss him now.

His mother was angry with him for pouring paste into his older brother’s hair, but it wasn’t really his fault, Ike was eating it anyway. Besides it came off his hands and clothes, who knew it wouldn’t come out of hair?

He also fought with his younger brother Zac. They were fooling around outside, launching rocks into the air on their seesaw. He would put rocks on one side and jump down on the other. And somehow Zac had managed to get into firing range. The rock hit him right in the nose. Making blood gush out.

He had been taken to the hospital and later he found out that he actually broke Zac’s nose.

All day had been a bad day. He had accidentally knocked Mackie down and he skin his knee. Causing him to cry loud enough to wake the dead. He pinched Avery, and pulled Jessica’s hair, after she pulled his.

By suppertime he had been grounded for a week. And he wasn’t getting dessert that night while the other kids went with their dad to Dairy Queen. His mom had stayed home though, because of him, and was taking a shower.

Taylor walked a few blocks, and started into the direction of the bigger part of Tulsa.

Smiling, he passed by the passerbyers, relishing in his newfound freedom. He wouldn’t have to go to bed early tonight. Wouldn’t have to take a bath. Wouldn’t have to say prayers and brush his teeth. Tonight he was doing everything that he wanted to do.

When it started to get dark though, he started to get scared. He didn’t know exactly where he was now. He was near a river. He just didn’t know which one out of the three he knew of.

Frightened, he curled into a tight ball under the bridge. He saw other people coming down to where he was too. One even built a fire in one of the old rusted trashcans.

Slowly he got up, his hands were cold and he wanted to feel the warmth of the fire. Timidly he crept up to the trashcan and outstretched his hands to the flames.

That’s when someone grabbed the pack that was still on him.

“Hey!” He shouted, trying to shove her off him weakly. He was getting even more scared now.

“What are you doing down here, you little brat!” The old woman cackled at him.

“Leave him be, Crazy Mae.” An old man growled, as he stepped up to the two. He handed her some bread and she threw Taylor to the ground grabbing for the bread greedily with her dirty hands.

She backed into a corner. Eyeing everyone as she ate.

“You okay?” The old man asked as he reached a hand down to him.

Taylor scrunched into a tiny ball again. Fearful of what the man could and might actually do to him.

“Don’t worry there, little fellow.” The old man soothed him. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He assured.

Carefully, Taylor extracted himself from his tight ball and extended his hand up to him, and allowed the old man to lift him to his feet. “Mine name’s Tay…Taylor.” He got out as he shivered from both cold and fear. He still didn’t trust this old man.

“Well, Taylor,” The old man started. “I’m Jonesy.” He said as he held his hand out to him.

Taylor shook it cautiously. Still unsure.

“Now Taylor,” Jonesy said as he sat down in an old broken down chair. “What is a little fellar like you doing out and about down here?”

“I dunno.” Taylor responded shrugging his shoulders and staring at the ground.

“Well, ain’tcha got a home?” Jonesy questioned.

“Not anymore.” Taylor mumbled.

“Well, why not?” Jonesy asked. “Everybody’s got a home... somewhere.”

Taylor shrugged again. “I ran away.” He admitted shamefully. Realizing how much he as actually starting to miss his home already.

“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” Jonesy asked as he handed Taylor a slice of bread.

“I dunno.” Taylor answered as he shrugged once again, devouring the bread. The snacks that he had were already gone. He ate them in the first hour of his ‘new found freedom.’

Jonesy sat back and stretched. “Know when I was as young as you I used to fantasize about being some big star.” He confessed.

Taylor looked up at him with huge eyes. “Really?”

Jonesy nodded. “Yup, I sure did.” He chuckled then. “I drove my parents nuts with my dream. I was always tapping away at something. I got stuck with the drums though.” He grinned as he relived his childhood dream for that moment.

He then nodded his head as if agreeing with himself on the memory. Making sure that it was right. “But yeah, I was gonna be a huge star someday. A rock and roll legend.” He made a rectangle with his fingers to envision a big sign for Taylor to see using his imagination. “In big bright lights ‘Mister Jones And Company.’ ” He said with a wistful look on his face.

Taylor could almost swear that he saw that sign too. They man talked in a way that he could actually paint the picture vividly in his mind.

After a few seconds of silence, Jonesy turned to him. “So what are your dreams, kid?”

Taylor felt himself shrugging again. “I wanna sing with my brothers in front of thousands of people.” He said smiling. “We sing now, but we’re not going anywhere really. We’ve just been playing birthday parties lately and a few restaurants.”

Jonesy nodded. “You gotta start from the bottom to get up to the top.” He told him.

But Taylor really didn’t hear him. He was staring at the fire, when he felt his eyes burn with something he didn’t want to admit to. He was crying. Then he looked up at Jonesy. “I wanna go home, Jonesy.” He whispered. “I miss my family. I want my mom, and brothers. My father and even my sisters. I miss them too.”

Nodding his head knowingly, Jonesy got up. “Come on, Taylor. I’ll take you home, kid.”

Taylor nodded and allowed the old man to pick him up and carry him. Though he felt he was too old for such treatment.

Jonesy had taken him home and told him he was rooting for his dream to come true. And in response Taylor had hugged him and commented, “You too, Jonesy.’”

It was then that Taylor reached into his pack and took out a square object along with a pen. He started to write quickly on the small square. “I know you may not be able to play it, Jonesy.” He said quickly, as he finished writing.

He looked down at his handwriting before handing it over to the old man. “So that you can remember me.” He explained.

Jonesy looked down at the thin square object that the little boy had thrust in his hands. Quickly he pulled a necklace from around his throat. “Now this…” He stated. “Is a pentacle.”

Taylor looked at it. It was kind of dirty from mud, but he could still make out a star in the middle of a circle. He was awed when Jonesy placed it around his own neck.

“It’s to help keep witches and warlock’s away.” He explained. Jonesy could feel his own eyes filling when he saw that his little friends’ eyes were too.

Jonesy grumbled to himself as he swiped at his eyes and Taylor did the same. Impulsively Taylor wrapped his arms around the old mans mid-section and hugged him tightly. When Jonesy hugged him back, they released each other a few seconds later.

Grinning, Taylor waved at him. “Thank you... Mr. Jones.”

Jonesy laughed lightly. “Thank you, Taylor.” He replied.

Taylor laughed too before he ran up his driveway. Eager to see his mom and apologize for everything he did that day.

Halfway up he turned around to wave again, but Jonesy had already gone. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to his journey to his front door. He banged loudly on it.

Taylor still remembered that day. It was nearly a year and a half ago. Now today, he was in the morgue with his brothers and father. Identifying the body of a “bum” that no one else really knew and had taken him home a year earlier.

They gave him back his old ‘Boomerang’ c.d. that he had given to Jonesy. Scrawled on it were his name, and his brother’s. Saying that someday Jonesy would be a big star too.

Timidly, Taylor looked down at the old man’s body and instantly touched at his throat where he still wore the pentacle. “That’s him.” He whispered hoarsely. “That’s Jonesy.”

“Do you know when he was born, or approximately how old he was, Mr. Hanson?” The mortician asked warily.

Taylor glared at him for not really caring about this man. After what he had done for him.

He realized then, that no one really knew about this man, but him. He never did tell anybody.

He shook his head sadly. “No, sir.” He responded tightly. “I don’t.”

Three days later Taylor was at the cemetery. Standing before a simple headstone. He had his parents pay the whole expense. Wanting something simple but respectful to the old man that had helped him out one night.

“C’mon, Tay.” Isaac said gently, as he and Zac started to walk away. “We have to get ready to go to LA.”

Zac nodded. “Yeah, this our shot to be big stars.” He reminded them, smiling cheekily.

Again Taylor touched his throat, where the pentacle was safely dangling on a leather choker before he walked away too.

The headstone had read:

Mr. Jones and me staring at the video
When I look at the television,
I want to see me staring right back at me
We all wanna be big stars,
But we don’t know why and we don’t know how
But when everybody loves me,
I’m going to be just about as happy as I can be
Mr. Jones and me, we’re gonna be big stars...