"Do you guys want anything else for dinner?" Louie asked, quickening his pace to the tour bus's front door in hopes he'd escape into the security of the van before he was bombarded with more orders from his princes.

"Can we get McDonald's fries?" Chris pleaded like a child, clenching his hands together like a begger at the couch on the right. "It's right by the pizza place."

"Oh, and fried chicken!" Frankie suggested loudly from the back, an ad for KFC flashing on the TV screen in the den making his mouth water and stomach churn with hunger.

"Sushi for me!" Matt yelled from his bunk, sticking his head out like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon to make sure Louie heard his request.

"Sushi?" Jesse asked, a scowl creeping on his face. "I want Chinese. Those chinese girls are definately my kind of girls."

"You're sounding like Chris now," Matt commented. Chris wore a mask of offense as he pushed Matt back into his bunk. McKenzie laughed uncontrollably as she strolled to her lower bunk bed, fishing through it for a magazine. Greg was sitting at the bashe table, trying his best to concentrate on the song he was writing over the boisterious cries of starvation the guys were spewing into the air.

"I am not Superman," Louie informed them, a tired smile stretching on his trying face. "You want all that stuff, then come with me."

With that, the 4 ravenous boys stampeded off the bus, leaving Louie spinning in their wake. Louie regained his composure as he asked Greg if he wanted anything special.

"Pizza's fine," Greg muttered, his eyes glued to the blank piece of paper laying before him, the paper almost mocking his attempts at his future.

"And you, McKenzie?" Louie finished breathlessly, slowly descending the stairs to the door.

"I agree with Greg," McKenzie's muffled voice fought through the red curtain shielding her bed from unwanted view. With that, Louie exited the bus to join the savages in the lighting director's black van, leaving Greg and McKenzie in awkward silence.

McKenzie sat on the edge of her bunk, trying to get her mind to focus on something other than the person sitting at the table. He was so quiet around her, not rambuncious and roudy like the rest of the guys; it made her that much more determined to discover what floated in his head. McKenzie tossed her latest Teen magazine back into her pit of darkness and proceeded toward Greg.

Greg looked up at her timidly, a shy smile slipping on his face. "Hey," McKenzie greeted, scooting next to Greg. She turned toward the tinted window, staring into the dusty sky, the diamonds of stars trying to impress spectators below more than the midnight blue darkness diffusing into the sky ever could. "I've been here 2 days and I don't think we've said more than a few words to each other," McKenzie stated as if speaking to the window like one speaks to the mirror on a bad hair day.

"Yeah," Greg agreed, scratching out another bad start on the paper vigerously. "I guess I've..."

"Don't hide it," McKenzie told him in a monotone voice, Greg's heart beating fast like a drum. It slowed to the pace of a soothing ballot with McKenzie's next words. "I know what you know about...you know..."

"What?" Greg asked, lost in her befuddling words, his crinkling eyes coupling a confused smile. Laughter filled the empty bus.

"You could tell right off the bat about me, right?" McKenzie asked, turning toward him with her compassionate blues.

"Yeah," Greg admitted sheepishly, disciplining his wandering eyes back to the paper of scribbles.

"What are you writing?" McKenzie enquired, sneaking a peak over his left shoulder.

"Trying to write a song," Greg stated with dissapointment, lifting the paper slightly from the table. "It just won't flow tonight." McKenzie nodded with understandment as Greg lowered his pencil to the paper, it breaking like a toothpick at the paper's touch. Fustrated and rolling his eyes, he chucked the pencil to collide with the white couch in front of him. McKenzie let a small snicker travel from her funny bone.

"Don't give up," McKenzie told him, laying her hand like a mother's on his muscular arm. "I gots another pencil you can use if you're up for it." She climbed out from the tight restraint of the table, Greg following her out and to her bunk bed.

She whizzed the crimson curtain open, revealing a massive hoard of personal belongings laying recklessly on her bed; her stash of Teen and CosmoGirl Magazines, a furry, teal make-up case overflowing with feminine beauty products, her red, plush teddy who was always by her side and a few photographs of her and her friends. McKenzie's eyes briefly rested on the bear, a bitter-sweet sensation flowed through her heart. The bear was the only thing that watered her dying belief in love, given to her by her birth father years before. As McKenzie grappled through the clutter on her bed in search of the lone pencil she brought in her travels, Greg picked up a picture of her and Tricia kissing each other lightly on the lips, roping his spirit onto the tracks of an oncoming train of slight, unstoppable envy.

McKenzie glanced up at Greg, his face stoic as he gazed at the picture, his composure making her believe the picture held the key to his to unlock and throw away his troubles. She slowly rose up from her croutching position, glancing over his shoulder.

"That's me and Tricia," McKenzie piped in, startling Greg out of his intrigued daze, but he hid it well.

"You guys look...umm..." Greg started, scratching at his chin with his free hand, "cute?" McKenzie chuckled, sliding the pencil into his hand and heading back to the table. Greg trailed her back to the front of the bus, dropping the photo to his side. Greg viewed her as a puzzle, hard to understand and put together, but once he could, she would create a fascinating picture, unavoidable by his gaze.

"It's no big deal," McKenzie informed him, brushing at her pink spagetti strap tank top as she plopped back behind the table, the night winds plowing noisily against the side of the bus as if wanting to clearly listen into the converstaion, not hear a few audible words squeezing through the bus's walls. "It's not a disease or anything."

"Oh," Greg said surprised, not wanting McKenzie to get the wrong impression. He slithered in next to her, leaving the pencil atop his devotion. "Of course not, I know that. I just never met...someone like you before..."

"You mean a lesbian," McKenzie snickered, running her finger along the cold edge of the table, "It's OK to say."

"I don't mean it just that way," Greg admitted quietly, diverting his eyes to the table top, sloutching slightly in his spot. He bit his lip nervously, awaiting another laugh to pounce bitterly at his ears. But no sound came out of McKenzie's mouth; she was quite stunned at his confession; No one has said something remotely kind to her about her sexuality; especially someone who knew little about her.

Time seemed to be slowed down by this friction of questioning attraction between the two aquaintances sticking on the walls like plaque buildup in a smoker's overworked heart. The screetching tires of the van pierced through the gossamer walls of the bus, causing Greg and McKenzie to cover their ears to rid them of the pressure pulsating through their delicate ear drums.

Abruptly, McKenzie rose from the seat and scurried to the back. She peeked her head from around the corner, a smile highlighting her face. "From the heart," McKenzie shouted to Greg, tapping her fingertips along the smooth edge of the wall.

"What?" Greg questioned, taking the pencil delicately in his hand.

"That's where you'll find your flow, your talent," she assured him, her eyes dancing to the lyrics she imagined Greg could throw on paper, "in your heart, way down there. It's always there, you just got to find it, feel it and write it."