CHAPTER ELEVEN

Zac and his brothers were sitting in a waiting hall in a large building, hoping for their interviewer to finish up doing whatever he was doing. Zac had his mind elsewhere. Don wasn’t with them, at least Zac was thankful for that. Don and Walker were in the canteen of the building getting coffee, leaving the boys to their own thing – for once.

"I hate waiting for things," Taylor muttered, trying to read a Top Of The Pops magazine he’d bought before coming in, he saw his face splattered on the middle pages and his expression changed to one of disgust. "Ugh, I hate seeing myself in pictures, why do I look so skinny when I wear red?"

"Because you are skinny," Isaac teased, he leaned over from his chair to see the picture Taylor was referring to. "Never mind your looking skinny, why does my hair always seem to look frizzy?"

"Maybe because it is?" Taylor teased.

"Well, I might have frizzy hair, but I don’t look like a girl…" Isaac folded his arms and gave a nonchalant expression.

"I might look like a girl, Ike, but at least I don’t look like some cheesy gay dude," Taylor shot back, giving the same expression of exaggerated nonchalance.

"At least I didn’t have my flies open during a photo session—" Isaac paused for a moment, "Oh, wait, that wasn’t you, that was Zac…"

Zac rolled his eyes, and tried to force out his thoughts of Don, but could find his mind on nothing else – his brothers were actually making his head hurt with their verbal abuse of each other, this was something they did quite often.

He’s coming back for me tonight, Zac realised. Oh god, what can I do?

"Well…at least when I’m on TV guys don’t shout ‘hey, check out that hot chick on MTV! Oh, uh, wait, isn’t that Taylor Hanson?’," Isaac began laughing.

Taylor made a face, and looked at Isaac from the corners of his eyes. "At least I don’t have a squint eye," he commented.

"Its not squint!" Isaac defended. "Its just a little lazy…" he added, gaining a hurt expression.

"You guys give me a headache," Zac muttered, folding his arms.

"Well, excuuuuuse me for passing the time by dissing Ike verbally," Taylor rolled his eyes.

Zac sighed. "Can we just sit in silence, please?" he asked, and began checking out the posters on the opposite wall – the one above Taylor’s head caught his eye. Childline.

He remembered hearing only good things about childline, it was a telephone counselling service for abused and molested kids, kids with problems, kids with nightmares, suicidal kids. Zac wondered if it was worth calling in.

"Uh…where’s the phone in this place?" Zac asked.

"Its down the hall turn a corner," Isaac answered. "Why?"

"I’m…gonna go phone mom," Zac lied.

"Oh," Isaac shrugged. "Well, good luck to ya, but by the time you get through it could be time for us to go through with the interview."

"I’ll try and be quick," Zac said, he quickly glanced at the number on the poster, then left the hallway, turned a corner and went to the end of the hall where the payphone was. He began dialling – knowing that an 0800 number was a free number, so he didn’t need to worry about money. He patiently waited.

"Childline, if you have a problem, please hold the line," came a reply, Zac waited a moment.

"Hello, can I help you?" came the voice of a woman, her voice was soothing, and relaxing.

Zac bit his lip, wondering what to say, then he began. "I have a big problem," he said softly.

"Tell me about it," the woman suggested.

"I…uh…I’m really famous, and…I need to go everywhere with a bodyguard," Zac began, he played with the cord of the phone. "Our usual bodyguard wasn’t able to come with us when we came to Scotland, and…well, we had to get this new guy…" Zac sighed.

"Is the problem due to the bodyguard?"

"Yeah…I’m only twelve years old, and he picks on me, the second night here he attacked me," Zac looked down the halls nervously hoping no one was nearby listening in. "Then…last night, I was really sick and in bed and I was alone and he came in…and he…" Zac felt the need to sob, feeling he couldn’t go on.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He…he…"

"I think I know," the woman said in a soft voice. "Have you told anyone?"

"No…" Zac sighed, sniffing. "I…feel really weird about it and the guy is threatening to do worse to me if I tell…"
"Is there anyone with you apart from the bodyguard – like maybe a parent…someone who can take care of you, make sure nothing happens?"

"My dad and my two older brothers…"

"Couldn’t you tell them, they would know what to do. They’d help you call the police…"

"I can’t tell them…I can’t tell anyone…I tried…and its too hard…" Zac felt a tear run down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away. "I feel…ashamed of it."

"You have to tell someone. What you’re talking about is assault and molestation and those are serious crimes. You have to call the police or you have to tell your brothers…they would understand…"

"I want to tell my oldest brother – he’s always looked after me, but its…this guy, the bodyguard is big and he hurt me a lot…and my big brothers aren’t really that strong – they’re tallish but skinny and this guy is like six foot seven and he could snap them twigs…I don’t want them getting hurt because of me…"

"Its possible that together you three could beat him, kid. You just have to do something…you can't let it happen again…"

Zac lowered his eyes. "Okay…thanks for the advice, Miss," he said.

"I hope you take it," she said gently.

"I…I’ll think about it," Zac promised and he put the phone down. He looked to the side of the phone – a unisex bathroom. He went in slowly, and looked around the single bathroom, and he took his backpack off and searched inside. Taylor’s cigarettes. Taylor didn’t seem to have noticed they were gone from his backpack, and Zac was ashamed to even admit to himself that he was smoking. At first it had been horrible but on three occasions he’d tried it again, never being able to finish a whole cigarette, but still, somehow it was helping. Zac lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke quickly, it always wanted to make him cough on the first puff, but he forced himself not to.

Look what's happening to me! He thought at himself, looking in the full length mirror on the back of the door. He was holding a cigarette between his index and middle fingers, he watched himself closely as he put it back to his lips for another puff, he stopped midway to his mouth, realising his brothers would be wondering where he’d gone, he nicked the cigarette (stubbed it out very carefully and saved it for later).

He searched into his pocket, found a packet of gum, took three pellets out and shoved them into his mouth quickly, chewed speedily in hope that the minty scent would cover the smell of smoke from his breath. Then made his way back to his brothers, feeling that now he could cope with the interview.