Chapter Thirteen


"What'd You Do, Stab The Toaster?"

Zac stared straight ahead, refusing to look at or focus on anybody. Up in the chancel, the minister's monotonous voice was echoing and ringing all around the church. But Zac wasn't listening. He was concentrating on one thing and one thing only: keeping his tears and his anger under control.

Sitting there, dressed in his black suit, sandwiched in between Isaac and Taylor, Zac was silently reciting the lyrics to "Ever Lonely" over and over again in his head. Anything to take his mind off the fact that this was Corey's funeral and that he would eventually have to say goodbye to his best friend. He didn't know why he had specifically picked "Ever Lonely". Maybe because that's what he was now - ever lonely. Corey was gone.

Zac shook his head, knowing he was thinking irrationally. Of course he wasn't ever lonely. All around him were gathered people who cared about him more than anything. His family, who would always stick by him, always care about him, always be there for him and always love him, no matter what. He was anything but lonely, but at the same time, he was the most solitary person in the world. Right now, although he knew his family was there for him, Zac wasn't connecting with anyone or anything. He couldn't talk to Isaac or Taylor the same way he had been able to a week ago, and he knew they'd noticed it too. But he didn't know what was wrong with him, why he was shying away from his brothers' love and support at a time when he so obviously needed it.

He just didn't feel like he could talk about it. He hadn't cried since that night on the porch, but he knew that there were a million tears locked up inside of him that just couldn't get out. He was crying inside; crying so much it ached, a dull, nagging pain in the pit of his stomach. He knew he needed to cry, but he also knew that he wasn't going to. Not today. He was too angry for tears today.

He would probably always be too angry for tears. Why had this happened? Why had God taken Corey's life, when he was so young, so innocent? Fifteen years old, that was all. What sort of life span was that? Fifteen measly years. There was so much he hadn't done, hadn't seen. Zac knew that Corey had always been jealous of all the traveling the Hansons did, all over Europe, Asia, Australia. He knew that he'd always wanted to do something overseas, even just a visit. But he hadn't had the chance. His life had been cut short. It was over. Fifteen short years and it was over. Where was the fairness in that? All these mass-murderers, drug dealers, frauds, embezzlers, thieves, rapists, pedophiles…all the evil, nasty people in the world, and God chose to take Corey's life. An innocent, fifteen-year-old boy whose girlfriend was cheating on him behind his back, and as if it weren't bad enough, God decided to cut his life short as well. It just wasn't fair.

Zac sighed, balling his hands into fists and punching at his leg. It's just not fair, it's just not fair, it's just not fair, it's just not fair… Zac repeated the words to himself over and over again, with his eyes closed, like some sort of mantra, digging his fist into his leg to keep the rhythm of his private chant.

Suddenly, Zac felt something on his hand. He snapped his eyes open to see Taylor staring at him, blue eyes wide with concern. He un-balled Zac's fist and clasped his hand around his fingers, squeezing tightly.

Zac didn't squeeze back, just simply closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, feeling Taylor start to massage his hand lightly with his thumb. He just didn't feel like returning the affection today. He didn't feel like receiving any either, but he knew Taylor was doing his best with all the tactile gestures: all the hugs; all the squeezed hands and shoulders; all the pats on the back and the ruffling of his hair. It was his way of saying, "Look, I'm here for you, Zac and I care about you. It's okay," and he would be hurt if those were shunned away.

He heard the minister asking the congregation to pray to God for Corey's soul, and Zac could taste the bile rising in his throat. Why should they pray to God when God was the one who'd caused all this mess in the first place? It was God who'd taken Corey away from him. It was all God's fault. And Zac was being a hypocrite, just like everyone else, sitting here listening to it.

He jumped to his feet and edged his way past Isaac and Jessica, walking purposefully up the aisle, his head down and ignoring the people that had turned to stare at him. Once exiting the large, stone building, he broke into a run, running through the graveyard and into the ruins of what had once been the Tulsa Baptist Church. It had now been replaced with the Community Church, where the service was being held. Zac hoisted himself up onto a broken piece of stone wall and loosened his tie. He slumped forward, his head in his hands and just sat there, not moving, not talking, not even thinking.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours even. It wasn't likely to be days, at least he knew that. Then he felt arms go round him from behind and he was pulled backwards into a hug.

"Don't," he whispered, removing the black-clad arms from around his broad chest.

The hugger walked around the broken down piece of wall and turned to face him. "Zac, I'm scared," she said.

Zac raised his eyebrows. He'd been expecting Taylor, not Jessica. "Jess…" His voice came out a tiny whisper, barely audible. "I thought you were Tay."

Jessica perched beside him on the wall. "He wanted to come after you, but I stopped him. I thought the Good Samaritan act might be grating on you a little."

Zac sighed. "Oh, Jessie, sometimes I think you know me better than anyone."

"Maybe I do, Zac. Just because I'm not part of Hanson, I'm still your sister, and you can still be close to me." She reached out and took his hand.

Zac looked at her, dismay evident in his eyes. "Jess, you think I don't know that? I love you just as much as Ike or Tay."

"I know," Jessica assured him, smiling. "Look, Zac, you're scaring me. Why did you walk out?"

Zac breathed out slowly. "Jess…it just seems so…hypocritical. I mean, God took Corey away from us and we have to pray to him and worship him…it's not right."

"God does what's best," replied Jessica quietly. "He's got a better place for Corey, up there, Zac. You have to believe that."

"Why?" asked Zac miserably.

"Because you'll drive yourself crazy if you don’t. Corey's up there somewhere. Watching…"

"You think so?"

Jessica smiled. "I know so."

Zac jumped off the wall and ran into the middle of the ruined building. "I'M SORRY!" he yelled, the yell echoing in the hollow room. "I'M SORRY, COREY! I'M SO, SO, SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN IT…" Zac's eyes began to water, and Jessica watched him in horror. "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! IT'S ALL MY FAULT! ALL MY FAULT! All my fault! All my…" Zac finally broke down, throwing himself down onto the moss covered flagstones and sobbing hard.

Jessica took one look at her older brother and burst into tears herself. She had never seen anything like this before, and it terrified her. After all, she was only eleven. She ran from the ruin, back through the graveyard and to the church door where her family was gathered.

"Jess, what's wrong?" asked Isaac, placing on hand on each of her shoulders and holding her steady.

"It's Zac," she sobbed. "Come on, quickly."

Isaac and Taylor followed her back to the old church, finding Zac screaming at the broken down walls and pulling at his hair, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked like he'd gone insane.

Choking back a sob of his own, Taylor ran towards Zac and put his arms round him.

"Get off me," growled Zac.

"What?" Taylor was dumbfounded.

"I said, get off me. Taylor, why don't you quit with all the touchy-feely business? I don't want your hugs; I don't want your pity! It won't bring him back and it won't make me any less of a murderer! Just leave me alone!"

Taylor took his arms away from Zac and staggered backwards in shock. "What?" he asked again, the hurt feelings evident in his voice.

"You think you can fix everything with a hug, don't you, Tay?" demanded Zac, iridescent trails from the tears shining on his face and a wild fire flashing in his eyes. "You really think that if you hold me and whisper some sentimental crap into my ear, everything will be fine. Well, guess what? You can't fix this, Tay. Putting your arms around me won't change the fact that I killed him!"

Taylor wrapped his arms round Zac again. "Zac, you're-"

"Don't you listen?!" hissed Zac angrily, pushing Taylor away as hard as he could.

Taylor stumbled backwards, tripping over a loose piece of brick and losing his footing. His elbow struck off the corner of the wall, grazing the skin. Blood began to trickle down his arm, but Taylor didn't care. All he wanted to do was make Zac better.

"Don't you listen?!" Zac repeated, eyes still flashing, making him look almost crazy in the shaft of bright sunlight slicing through the musty darkness. "I killed him, Tay! No amount of hugs from you is going to change that! So why don't you just drop the Good Samaritan act and stay the hell away from me!"

Taylor felt the tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. "You don't mean that, Zac."

"I do!" yelled Zac, throwing his hands up in the air. "Tay, you just don't get it, do you? I don't want you here, any of you! Just get away from me!"

Taylor's breath caught in his throat and he turned, running out of the ruined church as fast as he could in his tight dress shoes.

Isaac, who had been standing watching the whole scene in utter shock, turned to Zac. "Zac, that was totally uncalled for," he whispered in a dangerously low voice.

"I'm sick of him!" retorted Zac. "I wish you'd all just disappear!"

"No, you don't."

"I do! And if Mohammed won't leave the mountain, then the mountain will leave Mohammed!" With that, he spun on his heel and ran from the church, tears streaming down his face and a heavy, sickening, knotted feeling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Taylor lay in the treehouse later that afternoon, staring at the knothole in the roof. He was still dressed formally, in his black suit and white shirt. His dark green tie lay puddled beside him on the wooden floor. He was uncomfortable in the tight collar of the shirt, but didn't feel like changing. He didn't feel much like doing anything.

How could Zac say that to me? Taylor bit his lip, pondering the question hard. All he had tried to do was be there for his brother. Was that a crime? Taylor didn't think so, but Zac obviously hadn't been too happy about it. Giving Zac hugs was the only way Taylor knew of showing him that he was there for him. He'd only been trying to help. He rolled over, bashing his head off the floor repeatedly in frustration.

"Hey, buddy, I wouldn't do that. You'll hurt yourself," came a gentle voice from the top of the ladder to the treehouse.

Taylor looked up, seeing Isaac standing in the doorway. "I didn't hear you come in," he muttered.

"I thought you'd be up here." Isaac smiled, sitting down beside his brother. "How are ya?"

Taylor raised his head slightly and gazed up at his brother, the pain evident in his clear blue eyes. He knew there was no point in lying; the tears were already forming in the corners of his eyes. "What did I do wrong, Ike?" he whispered, staring at Isaac in confusion.

Isaac frowned, putting his hand on Taylor's back. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly.

"Then why is Zac mad at me?" Taylor sat up, blinking and trying to make the tears go away. He didn't want to cry; he'd cried enough this past year to last him a lifetime.

"He's not mad at you."

"He is! He hates me! You heard what he said at the church!"

Isaac put an arm around his brother. "Tay, don't take it to heart."

"How am I supposed to take it?" demanded Taylor, the tears forming again, much to his annoyance.

"He's just really upset," explained Isaac. "He's blaming himself, you know."

"I know! And all I'm trying to do is be there for him! Is there anything wrong with wanting to pick him up and give him a hug? To make sure he's okay? To be there for him when he needs support and love?" Taylor leaned against Isaac, tears beginning to fall now. "I didn't want to hurt him, Ike. I just wanted to be there for him."

Isaac hugged Taylor close to him, rocking him slightly from side to side. "I know, Tay, I know. And he knows that, too. He's just angry. He's angry with everyone. But he'll come through. And you're doing great, Tay. Just keep showing him that you care."

"To have it thrown back in my face?"

Isaac squeezed him. "Aww, Tay, you're not usually like this. C'mon, show him a little support."

"What do you think I've been trying to do, Ike?"

"I know, buddy, I know. Just hang in there, Tay. For Zac. He needs you."

"Funny way of showing it," grumbled Taylor.

Isaac sighed and shifted his weight underneath Taylor's, pulling him a little closer. "Jordan Taylor Hanson, stop acting like you're six years old," he scolded affectionately. "You're a great brother, and Zac knows that fine well. He's just…" He sighed again. "Tay, think how hard this must have been for him. I mean, he and Corey had gotten so close, and then with the whole Libby thing."

Taylor nodded. "I know, Ike. I can imagine how hard it must be for him. But I'm tired of trying to help him to have it thrown back in my face. How bad do you think that makes me feel? It's like he saying he doesn't want me. Like, 'Oh, Tay, go bug off, annoy someone else.' All I want to do is help him. Make him better. Why doesn't he understand that?"

"He does," Isaac assured him. "And you're doing just great."

"But he doesn't want me," protested Taylor. "He really doesn't want me. God, Ike, I've just realized in this past year how much I really do love him, and now he wants rid of me! Have you any idea how bad that makes me feel? All I want is for him to love me back."

"You know he loves you, Tay, don't talk crap."

Taylor sighed resignedly. "Yeah, okay, I'll give him a chance."

Isaac squeezed him tightly. "Good. He'll come round, you know that. And I'm still here, if you need to talk about it."

"Thanks, Ike."

"Don't thank me. I'm your big brother. It's what I'm here for."

***

Zac finally stopped running and slumped against a nearby tree, sliding miserably to the ground, his dress shoes making trails in the caked mud. He ran his hand through his dirty hair, then leaned back against the tree, silent, dry tears shaking his body uncontrollably. He had already cried out most of the wet tears. He hoped to God that nobody would walk past and find him like this. He was red-faced and sweaty, having ran and walked for at least an hour, and his cheeks were streaked with dirty tear trails. His tie was loose and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His trousers were dusty and muddy and his shoes were ten times worse. His hair was hanging in limp rat-tails, and his eyes were swollen and puffy from crying. He knew he looked less than presentable but he didn't really care. What did it matter anyway?

What did anything matter, really? He sighed, looking through the shade of the dark green leaves at the blue sky peeking though. Not only had he lost his best friend, he'd probably just completely blown his relationship with his two best best friends and his sister, to boot. Basically, he was a failure.

Reflecting back on what he had said to Taylor, Zac felt like killing himself. How could he have been so cruel to his brother? All Taylor was trying to do was to show him some support and reassure him, and Zac had pushed him away. And he felt like crap for it. He knew that he'd really hurt Taylor. His next-oldest brother was usually a very forgiving person, but this time, Zac wasn't sure. Had he pushed him too far? What if he had? What if this fight couldn't be reconciled?

Zac bit his lip, staring at a dead leaf, whirling in the wind. Now that he'd pushed Taylor away from him and put up the barrier, he wanted him most. As Zac started to tremble again he realized that, right now, he would give anything for Taylor to take him in his arms and hold him, whispering that everything would be all right.

But Zac knew that everything wasn't all right; far from it. Corey was gone, and it was Zac's fault. What sort of friend was I? he asked himself, the knot in his stomach thickening. All the time he'd been such a backstabber, giving Corey advice that he knew would mess up his relationship with Libby. Because Zac was selfish; he'd wanted Libby for himself. Now he had lost her as well, but he didn't really want her back. She'd shown him that she wasn't a nice person, wasn't worth bothering about and if Zac was to be perfectly frank, he didn't care if he never saw her again.

Zac closed his eyes, wishing that they could stay closed forever and that everything would be dark forever, when suddenly, things did darken considerably. Zac tensed up, wondering fleetingly if he was pure evil and communicating with Satan downstairs, before opening his eyes.

What he saw wasn't exactly the devil, but it looked close enough.

Standing in front of him was a girl of about his age. And not your normal Tulsan girl of about his age. She was dressed from head to toe in black: a long, black skirt; a tight black vest top, covered by a loose button-down; a black leather biker jacket and heavy duty black boots. The only brightness in her outfit was brought about by the silver metal buttons and studs on her jacket, and the dog's choke chain she wore fastened round her slim waist as a belt. Her face had been smoothed over in white face makeup and her eyes and lips were rimmed in black, the eyes winged out, giving them an almost cat-like appearance. She had drawn a black teardrop on her left cheek.

Zac shrank back. This girl scared him. She looked quite strange, as she was quite dark-skinned, and this, mixed with the makeup, gave her a yellowish tinge.

She stared at him through hard brown eyes, scrutinizing him, then flipped back her shiny, silky black hair and snapped her gum. "This is my tree."

"Huh?" was all Zac could manage, in a small, pathetic voice.

The girl raised her eyebrows. "This is my tree. Move."

"I was here first." Zac knew he sounded like a first-grader, and that he should probably move, or get the girl's heavy silver rings imprinted permanently on his face, but he wanted to stay here.

"So?" The girl looked at him like he was some kind of imbecile. "I always come here. It's my tree. Leave."

"No!" Zac jumped to his feet. "I have as much right to be here as you!"

The girl seemed to ponder this, then shrugged. "Fine. Just don't expect me to talk to you." She sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"Fine." Zac sat back down beside her, resting his head on his bent knees.

The girl took out a Marlboro and lit it, bringing it to her lips and inhaling.

Zac coughed; smoke irritated him. The girl looked about the same age as him. What was she doing smoking anyway?

"Sorry, is it bothering you?" The girl asked in a syrupy sweet voice, then blew smoke in his face.

Zac tutted, but ignored her.

"Aren't you gay?" She took another drag on the cigarette, blowing smoke rings into the cool air.

"No."

"You look gay."

"And you look like a freak," retorted Zac.

"I think you're gay."

"Well, I don't give a shit. I don't know you."

"Aren't you gay with your brother? That's disgusting."

Zac looked at her in annoyance. "Shut the hell up!"

The girl closed her black-rimmed eyes slowly. "What's wrong with you, little Zac Hanson?"

This was when Zac hated being famous. This girl was acting like she knew him, judging him. "If only you knew," he replied.

"We all have problems."

"Mine are worse."

"Like hell they are!" yelled the girl. "You have it so easy!"

"You don't know me!"

"I know enough about you to know that you have this wonderful, Brady Bunch family!" She narrowed her eyes. "Look at you. Sitting there, in your fancy clothes, with your fancy job and your fancy house. And you think you have it hard. You've got everything! And you're selfish and self-absorbed enough to think you have problems? You conceited little jerk! You're a jumped up little bastard, you know that?!"

"I don't have to take that crap from you! I don't know you." Zac got up. "I'm leaving."

"So soon?" The girl glared at him. "Go then. Run away, just like you always do. Go conform. Go wallow in your pathetic little self-pity. Go fuck your brothers!"

Zac shook his head at her then turned.

"Zac!" she yelled after him.

He didn't stop running, but it didn't stop him hearing her yelling, "I'm Rachelle. Now you can listen!"

Zac kept on running, running as fast as he could. Running away, out of the woods and into the Main Street, from the scary girl, Rachelle or whatever her name was and away from the fact that what she had said had been true. Zac did have it easy. He had a loving family, and he knew that was a hell of a lot more than a lot of people had. But he hadn't needed to hear it from some Goth chick who looked like she'd escaped from a Marilyn Manson convention.

He pushed open the glass door to Lucy's Ice Cream Parlor and sank down into the soft, red leather seats. He rested his head on the cool Formica table, feeling like there were little hot hammers pounding on his skull at his forehead.

"What'll it be?" The waitress snapped her gum, standing tapping her foot like Zac was keeping her from something.

"Uh…" Zac had no idea. He wasn't hungry; he'd only come to Lucy's for the sake of somewhere to go. "A Peanut Surprise, please." Might as well stick with the old favorite.

What am I going to do? Zac thought desperately, shredding the tacky looking paper napkin that was sitting in front of him. He had never felt so bad in his entire life.

His sundae arrived, and as Zac distractedly spooned the toffee ice cream into his mouth, he wondered if anyone could tell if he was a murderer.

***

"How did all this happen?" asked Isaac sadly, shaking his head.

Rhia looked at him, feeling sorry for her best friend. "Ike, he'll come round."

"He thinks he killed Corey. And he won't let us help him, Rhia. Tay's so messed up. All he wants is to make it better…"

"How?" asked Rhia gently.

"You know Tay. He's very tactile. I think he just wants to take Zac in his arms and hold him until it's all gone away."

"And Zac's not happy with this?"

"Not at all. He yelled at him so hard at the cemetery. Tay tried to hug him. Zac blew up. He told him that all his sentimental crap wasn't helping and that he should drop the Good Samaritan act because he couldn't fix this."

"Ouch," sympathized Rhia.

"Yeah. Poor guy keeps beating himself up about it. I left him lying in the treehouse. Zac bolted, and we haven't seen him since. It’s been hours. I'm worried."

"Zac'll be okay."

"Usually, I would think so. But he's in such a mess. God only knows what he'll do… Please, God, no…"

Rhia pulled Isaac close to her. "He's not that dumb, Ike, honey."

Isaac sighed. "I know. Just…everything… Zac, Tay… Honey, even…"

"I thought you two had broken up?"

Isaac shook his head.

"But isn't she cheating on you?"

"Yeah, apparently, but I haven't seen her… She hasn’t called… I just… Oh, God, Rhia…" he moaned, nuzzling his face of her fuzzy blue sweater.

"Ike, it's okay. I promise. I'll make it better."

"How can you?" Isaac pulled back and stared into her clear green eyes.

Rhia sighed, shaking her head. "I really don't know."

"Oh, Ree…"

Suddenly, Rhia sneezed.

For some reason, it struck them both as funny, and the two of them dissolved into giggles.

They laughed long and hard, tears forming in both the brown eyes and the green ones.

"Ike," panted Rhia, "this isn't funny…"

"I know!" gasped Isaac, wiping tears from under his eyes, and pealing off into gales of laughter again. "But I need this, Rhia… I need to laugh!"

Rhia fell back onto the bed. "Ike, stop!"

"No!" chuckled Isaac. Deciding to take advantage of Rhia's vulnerable position, he began to tickle her.

"Stop!" squealed Rhia, wriggling like Zoë did when anyone changed her diaper.

"No!" Isaac grinned evilly, tickling her harder.

Rhia drew a sharp breath inwardly, wincing.

Isaac stopped abruptly, looking down at Rhia's stomach, where her sweater had ridden up. There was a large, dark bruise on her left side. It was a million shades - purple, black, blue, yellow, green and even red where the blood had burst underneath her skin. "What happened?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the awful apparition of a bruise.

"You know me," Rhia laughed breezily. "Clumsy... I was wrestling with Neil, outside… We fell over and I landed on the rake handle. It's pretty sore."

Isaac narrowed his eyes. "Is that really what happened?"

"Yeah." Rhia looked away, refusing to meet his gaze and suddenly becoming more interested than usual in the poster of Ben Affleck in his orange 'Armageddon' suit.

"How's Jake?"

"Huh?" Rhia snapped her eyes back to his, locking his eyes in a stare.

"Jake. Are you two still an item?"

"Yes," replied Rhia guardedly.

"Where is he today?"

"I don't know."

"Is he hurting you?"

"Isaac!"

"Is he?" demanded Isaac. "If he is, I'll…"

"Get out!"

"Huh?"

"Get out, Ike, get out! I don't need you in here preaching at me! Jake's good to me. He loves me. He'll take care of me. He promised…"

Isaac put his hand on her shoulder. "Rhia…"

"No, Ike. Please." She sighed. "Just leave."

Isaac slowly got to his feet. Shooting one last look at Rhia, he left the room and thundered down the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

***

Zac pushed open the door and quietly made his way over to the stairs. He knew no one would question him about being out so late and disappearing. He knew his mom would have been worried, but he also knew that she knew how upset he was. All he had been doing was thinking, and she knew that, too. She also knew how hard he was taking Corey's death and how bad he felt. It had been perfectly normal lately for him to disappear.

Zac had sat in Lucy's, eating sundae after sundae until Lucy herself had said that she thought he'd eaten enough for one day and that she wouldn't be surprised if he was very ill. Then he'd gone for a walk, finally realizing that it was very late and he should be getting home.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom. Isaac's bunk was empty, presumably he was downstairs in the family room. But Taylor lay, fast asleep, in his bunk; face flushed, eyes swollen and cheeks tearstained.

Zac felt as if someone had just rammed a thick stake through his heart. Knowing that he had done this to Taylor… What kind of an evil person am I? he wondered. I cheat with my best friend's girlfriend, leading to his death, and now look what I've done to my brother. All he was doing was trying to help me.

All of a sudden, it became too much and Zac choked out a loud sob. As he began to tremble, he lay down beside Taylor on the bed and wrapped his arms around him, crying softly.

Taylor could feel his movement being restricted. He forced his eyes open and found himself staring at Zac. He almost jumped and screamed, but managed to stop just in time. Zac's eyes were closed, and his mouth was twisted into a contortion of sadness. Tears rolled thick and fast down Zac's round cheeks and he was shaking.

"Zac?" Taylor whispered.

Zac opened his eyes and gazed at Taylor.

Taylor could see in Zac's eyes that he was terrified. And lonely. The eyes could show an awful lot about what someone was thinking, Taylor thought. He wrapped his arms around his brother, returning the hug.

"Tay, I'm sorry," sobbed Zac. "I'm sorry."

"Zac's, it's okay. Everything's okay. C'mon. Sit up, buddy." Taylor edged him up to a sitting position. "C'mon, talk to me about it."

"Tay, I'm sorry. I was so mean to you! I'm sorry. I need you, I do!" Zac was crying so hard, he was choking.

Taylor rested his cheek on top of Zac's hair. It was awful to see Zac so upset. "Zac, talk to me."

Zac drew in a ragged breath, his body shuddering. "I feel so guilty."

"Why?"

"I was cheating with his girlfriend!" Floods of fresh tears spilled from Zac's red eyes and his breath caught in his throat, making him convulse into fits if coughing.

Taylor slowly, gently, rubbed his brother's back and eventually the coughing subsided. "Zac, you have nothing to feel guilty about. And I think that deep down, you know that. Corey didn't know what you were doing. He's certainly not going to find out now. And you had nothing to do with his death. It was an accident, little guy. A horrible, horrible accident. It's not your fault." He pulled Zac's head towards his, pressing their cheeks together. "You have to believe me, Zac. There was nothing anyone did to cause that; there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. It was fate. Just a nasty, unfair twist of fate, Zaccy. Come on, now…"

Zac's frantic sobs gradually became gentler and quieter, and finally stopped. "How do you do it, Tay?" he asked, staring up at his brother.

"How do I do what?" asked Taylor, confused.

"Why don't you hate me? I was such a…so…such a…a total bastard to you today, Tay. Why aren't you telling me to go rot in hell? It's where I belong…"

"Don't talk crap," admonished Taylor. "Zac, what you said to me hurt me. A lot. I came home and ran up to the treehouse, crying to Ike. But although I said I didn't, I knew, somewhere, that you didn't mean it."

"Tay, if I were you, I'd hate me."

"Zac…I don't hate you. You’re my brother."

"But today, I…"

"Forget today, Zac." Taylor pushed back a limp strand of Zac's hair.

"But…"

"You want to know how it made me feel?" Taylor demanded, abruptly cutting him off. "Fine. I'll tell you. It made me feel like shit. All I was doing was trying to be there for you, to love you and support you and you turned your back on me. It made me feel so low. It hurt so bad."

"I'm sorry!" wailed Zac.

"I know."

"But I do need you, Tay."

"I know." This time, he said it a little more gently, as Zac relaxed against him. He pulled his arms tighter around him, and shifted down to a lying position in his bed, cradling his little brother, as if protecting him from all things bad.

Zac's breathing began to even out. The crying had exhausted him. But he had one last thing he had to say before he drifted off to sleep. "Tay?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Hmm?" Taylor's response was just as sleepy.

"I…I love you, man."

Taylor smiled a slow, lazy smile. "I love you, too, Zac."

***

Taylor hauled the final bag of groceries into the trunk of the car and wiped his sweaty hands on his denims.

"Did we forget anything?" asked Isaac, checking the shopping list.

"I don't think so." Taylor twisted his hair up, tucking it underneath his baseball cap - the half-hearted attempt at a disguise - and pulling the peak down tight over his forehead, rubbing his bleary eyes. Coming grocery shopping at nine in the morning was ridiculous to him, but Ike had - for some unknown reason - insisted that he come with him and that they went alone.

They had no bother with people recognizing them that morning; the store was deserted. Neither wonder, thought Taylor, stifling a yawn as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

Isaac slipped a cassette into the tape deck and the sounds of the Beatles' "When I'm Sixty Four" blared from the speakers.

Taylor began to drum his fingers off the top of the dashboard and Isaac began to sing. Soon, Taylor joined in, and as they zipped along the highway, Paul McCartney's voice was drowned out by theirs.

"Send me a postcard, drop me a line," sang Isaac. "Stating point of view."

"Duh-da-da-da-da!" chimed in Taylor.

"Indicate precisely what you mean to say…"

"Yours sincerely, wasting away. Give me your answer, fill in a…" Taylor trailed off. Peering in the rearview mirror. "Uh, Ike? Do you know that car?" he asked, referring to the blue BMW behind them.

Isaac glanced in the mirror, then shook his head. "Nope. Why?"

"It's been following us ever since the supermarket. Don't you think that's odd?"

Isaac shrugged. "Not really."

"But it followed us there as well."

"Tay, we’re not the only people in Tulsa who have to eat. Other people can go grocery shopping too, you know."

"I know," muttered Taylor. "I was only saying…"

"Well, don't say."

"You want me to take a vow of silence?" demanded Taylor.

"Well, if you're offering, it would be nice," teased Isaac.

It was too early for Taylor to take any teasing. He just sighed heavily and turned, staring out the window.

He watched in the mirror idly as the blue BMW seemed to pick up speed. "I think it wants to pass us, Ike."

"But I'm doing the limit!" protested Isaac.

"Tell that to Speedy Gonzales, not me."

The BMW pulled into line with their car and Isaac slowed to let it pass, muttering something about impatient drivers under his breath. But the BMW slowed too. Isaac frowned and flashed his lights, signaling that he was prepared to let the bigger car past, but the BMW moved closer to the Hanson car, almost scratching it.

"Shit!" cursed Ike. "What is this guy's problem?" He shifted gear and accelerated, trying to get away from the maniac in the BMW, but it speeded up as well.

Taylor raised his eyebrows. This was weird, not to mention a little scary.

Suddenly, the whole car shook. "He hit us!" yelled Isaac.

"I noticed," replied Taylor, a little shakily.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Ike, pull over. I don't wanna be involved in some stupid drag race."

Isaac snorted. "Yeah, like I would join one."

He flashed his lights and pulled over at the curb.

The BMW followed suit, and Isaac got out of the car. Taylor got out after him, turning to see who the idiot in the blue car was.

"Jake!"

"Hey there, gay boy."

Taylor was dumbfounded. "You know this creep?"

Jake swaggered up to them, leaning on the roof of the Hansons car.

"What the hell were you doing?!" demanded Isaac. "You almost ran us off the road!"

Taylor rolled his eyes. As if that hadn't been this Jake guy's intention all along.

"I'm good, aren't I?" sneered Jake.

"What were you playing at, you asshole?"

Taylor noticed his brother wringing his hands together, something he only did when he was nervous. Could it be that Isaac was actually scared of this great brute? Sizing Jake up, Taylor began to rethink his scorn. The guy had huge muscles, and he had at least four inches and twenty pounds on Ike.

"Take this as a warning, Hanson."

"A warning?" Isaac raised his eyebrows.

"Don't get cocky!" Jake suddenly gripped Isaac's shirt and slammed his body against the car.

Taylor's mouth dropped open and he winced in sympathy for his brother. Why did this guy hate Isaac so much? Isaac barely ever got on anyone's nerves.

"Jake, let me go." Isaac spoke with a calm and steady voice, but Taylor could tell he was nervous.

"I mean it Hanson. Stop fucking with my girlfriend! Don't tell her I'm hurting her; don't put dumb ideas in her head." His voice grew deadly quiet. "I take care of her. It's none of your Goddamn business! You ever say anything like that to her again, and you see this fist?"

Isaac nodded dumbly.

"It'll be so far down your throat, you'll have to ram your toothbrush up your ass to brush your teeth! Do we understand each other?"

Again, Isaac silently nodded.

"Good. Well, my work here is done. See ya, gay boy." He turned to Taylor. "Nice to finally meet Isaac's lover."

"I…Wha…Huh…" Taylor trailed off, realizing that the incomprehensible noises he was making had no effect on Jake. "See ya," he murmured weakly.

Jake turned on his heel and got back into his car, revving the engine and screeching away, his tires squealing on the asphalt.

Taylor turned to Isaac. "Who was that charming specimen of mankind?"

Isaac shuddered, pulling open the car door. He climbed into the driver's seat and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

Taylor got in beside him. "Ike, are you okay?" he asked, frowning in concern.

Isaac sighed, sitting back up. "Yeah. Yeah, Tay, I'm fine."

"What was all that about?"

"That's Rhia's boyfriend."

"Duh…you don't say…"

"He thinks I'm interested in Rhia."

"Are you?" Taylor took off the baseball cap. It made his head sweat.

Isaac glared at him, stony-eyed. "Of course not, you idiot. But I…"

Taylor frowned again. "What?"

"I think that he's been beating Rhia."

Taylor's eyes widened. "No way!"

Isaac shook his head sadly. "I think he has, Tay. Rhia's got all these bruises in weird places, and when I ask her about them, she freaks out, like totally. Then all this. I just want to help her."

Taylor whistled through his teeth. "Whoa. Major stuff, huh?"

Isaac nodded.

"The thing is, Ike, she has to want to be helped. You can talk and talk at her until you're blue in the face, but it won't make her listen."

Isaac turned to him. "Tay, you make it sound like she has a drink problem."

Taylor smiled. "What I'm saying is that if she doesn't want your help, then this whole mess is really none of your business. I'm sorry, Ike; I know you want it to be, but unless she specifically asks for your input and admits she's unhappy, there's nothing you can do."

Isaac just stared at him.

"C'mon, Ike, you know I'm right."

Isaac smiled and tossed his head ruefully. "That's the thing. I do know you're right. I don't want you to be right, though."

"Gee, I'm allowed to be right occasionally."

"You know what I mean." Isaac narrowed his eyes. "How come you're being so flip about this, anyway? It's pretty heavy stuff."

Taylor shrugged helplessly. "I read this quote…"

"Lord, give me strength…" muttered Isaac. When Taylor got started on quotes, it made you want to either throw yourself through the windshield or throw him through the windshield.

"Shut up. Anyway, it was something like, 'You have to accept the things you can't change and change the things you can't accept.' And I think this describes this situation perfectly. Right now, you can't change anything. It's none of your business. But it's also up to you to make it your business. Get involved, change it. Or accept it. It's your choice."

Isaac appeared to be mulling it over. What his brother was saying actually made sense. And when that happened, you knew it was far too early in the morning for you to be thinking straight.

***

Zac squeezed harder, watching the thick red liquid swell up inside the plastic bottle. He narrowed his eyes, unconsciously squeezing harder and harder. The harder he squeezed, the more anger he was letting out. The less he had to worry about. The more empowered he felt, the more in control, the more…

"Oh, shit!" he cursed.

The flip-lid had popped open and tomato ketchup had squirted at full-pelt out of the bottle, splattering against the gleaming white toaster.

He sighed, heaving himself up from his slumped position at the wooden butcher-block table and fetched a dishcloth, wiping at the toaster half-heartedly, only succeeding in smearing the ketchup around a bit.

"What'd you do, stab the toaster?"

Zac whirled round, seeing Taylor staring at him, a bemused smile playing on his lips. He cracked a weak smile. "Uh, no…just a bit of anger management."

"That's how you manage your anger? By covering a kitchen appliance in sauce? Were you planning on eating it, too?" Taylor grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and began polishing it vigorously against his chest.

Zac rolled his eyes. "No. I was squeezing the ketchup bottle."

Taylor nodded in recognition, biting into his apple. "Oh, like one of those stress ball thingies?"

Zac snapped his fingers. "Exactly!"

"So buy one. They're a hell of a lot less messy! Anyway, what were you angry about?" Taylor hoisted himself up, until he was perched on the edge of the table, socked feet dangling a couple of inches from the floor.

"Nothing. Everything." Zac smiled sadly. "I guess I was just thinking about Corey."

"Oh," replied Taylor softly. "What were you thinking?"

"About how I should go see the grave. I still haven't been up yet."

"Do you think you're ready?" Taylor asked gently.

Zac closed his eyes momentarily, then answered. "Yes. I think I am."

Taylor smiled, an immense feeling of pride for his younger brother welling up inside of him. "Do you want me to take you later?"

"Would you?"

"Of course."

"Tay, that'd be so great. You don't know how much that means to me."

Taylor shrugged. "It's nothing."

"Will you take me this afternoon?"

"Sure. Just yell when you're ready. I'm not doing anything anyway."

Zac smiled. "Thanks," he whispered, turning to leave the kitchen. "But, Tay?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you put some trousers on before we go?" Zac nodded down towards Taylor's Disney boxer shorts. "I love the undies, but you might get a bit cold."

Taylor spat a bit of apple at Zac, hitting him square under the right eye. "Screw you!"

Zac giggled, bolting upstairs.

Taylor shook his head, wandering down to the basement and retrieving his jeans from the to-be-ironed basket, what he'd been meaning to do all along. It was nice to see Zac laugh again. It had been an awfully quiet few weeks in the Hanson household, what with Zac not saying much ever since Corey's death. But as the calendar turned to December, and Christmas lights started illuminating people's family rooms - way too early, in Taylor's opinion, it was only December third - so Zac's face started to light up every now and again as well. He was still deeply hurt and confused, but at least some of the bad, guilty feeling appeared to have been lifted from his shoulders. It was nice.

Taylor shoved the ironing board under his right arm and dragged it up the stairs back into the kitchen, setting it up and filling the iron with water.

He was just contemplating how to physically remove the wrinkles from his jeans without adding more, when the doorbell rang. He jogged lightly to the door and pulled it open.

"Katie!" he gasped, surprised.

She grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Taylor. Look, can I come in?"

"Is your brother with you?" asked Taylor warily, peering around Katie.

"No."

"Are you going to tell anyone strange things about me?"

"No."

"Are you carrying any monitoring or recording devices or illegal substances?"

Katie raised her eyebrows. "No…"

"Well, then, yeah, I guess you can come in." He stepped aside, letting Katie through, then closed the door behind her.

She followed him through to the kitchen. "Ah, a domesticated male. That's something I like to see," she joked awkwardly, taking in the ironing board, on which Taylor's jeans lay.

Taylor suddenly became acutely aware that he was only wearing his boxers on his bottom half, then dismissed the worry, reasoning that his boxer shorts were long, and besides, the shirt he was wearing was pretty long, too. "So," he asked, returning to behind the ironing board and running the iron smoothly over his jeans, hoping it made him look like he did it every day. "What can I do for you?"

Katie sat down in one of the wooden chairs, wringing her hands together. "You can let me apologize."

Taylor looked up at her, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry that Martin beat up on you. And I'm sorry it's taken me over two months to say anything about it. I was just really upset. I thought you liked me, and I really thought we were gonna, you know… And then we didn't, and I got mad, and told Martin, and…"

"I know the rest," Taylor interrupted. "I had the wounds to prove it."

"I'm sorry about that. Did he really hurt you?"

Taylor shrugged. "Bruised ribs, busted nose, busted lip, bashed ego…" His tone changed, and he looked her straight in the eye. "It was agony. I had to get Ike to carry me upstairs. Have you any idea how humiliating that was?"

"Sorry," said Katie again. "I really didn't mean for him to do that."

Taylor nodded slowly. "I know."

"So, can we be friends again?"

"Katie, there's just too much stuff… It's too messy. I'm embarrassed about what happened, you must be too, your brother wants to kill me… It's… I just think it's better if we avoid each other."

Katie lowered her eyes. "I guess you're right."

"I appreciate this, though. You coming over. It means a lot."

She smiled. "I'm glad." She got to her feet. "I guess there's not much point in me staying. I'll leave you to your ironing."

Taylor led her out to the front door. "I'll see ya, Katie."

She stopped. "Maybe one day we can be friends."

"Maybe," conceded Taylor.

But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that that would never happen.

***

Taylor coasted the car to a stop outside the cemetery gates and turned to face Zac. "Well, we're here."

Zac sighed. "Yeah," he murmured. "I guess we are."

Taylor smiled. "Look, little buddy, are you sure you're ready for this?"

Zac nodded his head slowly. "I have to do this, Tay," he replied determinedly. "I know it'll be hard, I know I might get upset, but I have to do this. It's important to me."

Taylor slugged Zac lightly on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, man."

Zac merely bobbed his head, then got out of the car.

Taylor followed him out and they passed through the gates, nodding in acknowledgement to the gate attendant.

"Where is it?" asked Zac quietly.

"Just up here." Taylor led Zac up the path and round the corner, stopping in front of a large gray headstone, with a small, white statue of a cherub beside it. "This is it," he added unnecessarily.

Zac bit his lip, reading the words on the headstone.

In Loving Memory Of
COREY ANTHONY PRICE
Who Died Suddenly
Friday, November 5th, 1999
Aged 15 years

He Will Always Hold A
Special Place In
Our Hearts

It was hard to believe that Corey was lying under there. Hard to believe that that was all that was left of him. Hard to believe that his friend was finally gone. It was as if Zac hadn't truly acknowledged the fact until now, and here it was, like a door slamming in his face; a door slamming, ending one part of Zac's life and refusing to open for another part. But at the same time, Zac knew that the door would open soon enough. Not yet, though. He wasn't ready yet.

He found himself wondering if Corey's door had re-opened, allowing him to move on. He wondered where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking. If he really was watching over everyone, like Jessica had said. Had he heard Zac's frantic apology that day of the funeral? Had he forgiven him? Zac didn't know. Zac felt as if he didn't know anything any more, and thinking about it just made him tense, agitated.

He felt Taylor's arm around his shoulders and heard his voice, far away. "You okay?"

Zac wasn't okay. He was far from okay. He suddenly felt as if he might spontaneously combust, all the pressure building up inside him. All the guilt, all the questions, all the speculations… When would it end? Zac knew he would be able to continue his life eventually, but when? He felt suffocated, as if he couldn't breathe.

And the next thing he knew, he was crying and Taylor was hugging him, whispering in his ear that he would be okay. It felt so good to cry, releasing some of the pressure and the tension inside him easing.

He cried and cried, all the time, Taylor holding him, rocking him like a baby, whispering soothing words into his ear, stroking his hair, rubbing his back. It just felt so good to finally release everything that had built up inside him. Those tears he had been too angry to cry had finally worked their way out and now they wouldn't stop.

His eyes ached, his throat ached, his stomach and chest ached from crying so hard, but it still felt good. He just let himself sink into Taylor's arms and sobbed, his body trembling as he was crying so violently.

Taylor held him tighter. "Zac, you're okay," he whispered. "I'm here. Taylor's here." He knew he was babying Zac, but that's what Zac needed right now. He knew that Zac needed to cry, and he was prepared to stand like this for hours if necessary, as long as it made Zac better.

As it turned out, it wasn't necessary for Taylor to stand like that for hours, only a few more minutes.

Zac pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

"Okay?" asked Taylor gently.

"I will be. I just… It all hit me, Tay. Just everything."

"I know, Zac, I know." Taylor pulled him close, hugging him again. "I'm here."

Zac returned the embrace. "Thanks."

Taylor released him. "Hey, put these flowers on the grave?"

Zac nodded. "Sure." He took the bunch of carnations from Taylor's fist and placed them carefully in the little water hole in the cherub statue.

He stepped back, and Taylor put his arm around his shoulder. "They're nice."

"Yeah."

Zac looked up at him and smiled, a weak watery smile, but it was a smile all the same.

Taylor ruffled his hair.

The two brothers stood there, the taller one's arm around the little one's shoulders and the little one returning the favor by putting his arm around his brother's waist. Their breath formed little white puffs in the chill air of early December as they looked down at the grave. Anyone looking on would know that whatever particular tragedy the brothers were mourning, they'd get through it. Family solidarity would get them through. Anyone looking on would also know that the two blond brothers knew this themselves. They didn't need to be told.

It was blatantly obvious.

Chapter 14
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