We walked to the back of the hall, not talking. Me and Taylor sat in the last row. I propped my feet up.
"What are we going to do?" I asked, eyeing my Nikes.
"About?"
"The press. Fans." I told him.
"There are 5 choices." he finally said.
"And they are...?"
"One: don't tell them."
I nodded. "But if you're going to get as cozy as you did today, I think they'll figure it out anyways."
He sat there. "Or there's two: tell them."
"Obviously."
"Three: we can... um."
"'Um' what?"
"We can quit Hanson and Zodiac and finally get a life." he said, half joking. He laughed, but I could see in his face that he had thought over this for a while.
I nodded. "Four?"
"Four is to run away and elope." he grinned.
I laughed outright. "Five?"
"Five is to hire a horde of hitmen to kill all those fanatics to leave us alone." he said smugly.
I slouching in my seat, holding my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. "I opt for number five."
"Cool. Who'd we get?"
"Charles Manson. Lizzie Bordon. Ghengis Khan..." I counted off.
Taylor grinned. "Half those people are dead, Kristen."
"So? The mere sight of a corpse will knock over any teenybopper." We laughed.
I sat there, fiddling with the drawstring to my pants. "Are you serious about quitting?"
Taylor sat forward, elbows on knees. He held his head in his hands, face veiled. "Yeah. I don't want to give up my music. It's a big part of my life. But I can't handle the press. The constant adoration. It's tiring."
I nodded, picking at the frayed strings. "I get that way sometimes. But you know what? Whenever I get an email about a fan and how a concert had made them feel happy, I can't turn from that." I said, eyes unfocused. "There was one little boy who had cancer. He was in remission, though it was more likely that it would come back. His biggest wish was to come see me."
Taylor smiled slightly.
"He came to a concert. He got me to sign some stuff. I don't remember his face, or where the concert was. Funny I don't remember him for his face, but I can remember this little boy because I had made him happy."
Taylor turned to me. "Same here. I've gotten e-mails from people who are telling me of this site for children with cancer. They're Hanson fans, and their lives have been made because I sang in front of them." he sighed miserably.
"It's a huge responsibility, I know." I told him, shoving his hair out of his face. He leaned his head against my palm, sqaushing my hand against the back of the seat.
"Yeah. But I just don't want to deal with this anymore. I want to go back to Tulsa, and be able to skate outside without being mobbed by fans. I want to finish school like a normal guy. Go to a prom. Go to college. Get a house somewhere. Find a girl..." he said, eyes closed.
"Don't we all?" I murmered, leaning forward. "The problem with us is that we started too early. We have come right from childhood into a world of bloodsucking adults."
"Yeah. I wish we had waited until we were older."
"We can't change that, now." I sighed. "Speaking of proms, wanna come to my year 12 ball?"
"What?" he asked dumbly.
"Being as how my whole state will ask me as their date to the ball, I thought I'd book first and ask you. Like a prom, Taylor. Wanna be my date?" I asked.
"What grade are you in now?"
"Finishing up year 10."
"It's a while away. You're sure?"
"Yeah. Travel plans will have to be made. Qantas sound good? They can deliver you to my doorstep." I laughed. "So, how 'bout it?"
He looked hard at me. "Sure."
"Cool."