I am hosting this GREAT story, called "Out My Window", by Heather. She is the greatest writer!! I've read this story 2 times, and loved EVERY minute of it!! you HAVE to read this story!! it's all on one page here, so, if you plan on reading the WHOLE thing, you can just let the page load, and then log off from the net. hehe... that's what I have discovered!! lol :P So, anyway... READ on!!!

*Out My Window*
~Prologue~

My best friend and I used to be so close. We couldn't bear a minute without each other's company. We were like brother and sister. It was as if we were joined at the hip. Where ever I went, he went. Where ever he went, I tagged along. Until now. It's funny how things change. How people hold back and don't act on something because of silly reasons until the last minute. What's sad is how that last minute can be too late, and you have to live with the burden of guilt over the time you've lost.

Chapter 1

I was born Sara Kristine Williams on March 31, 1983, in Jenks Hospital, on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma. The very same hospital that my best friend, Jordan Taylor Hanson, was born at fourteen years ago on this very day, March 14, 1997. But today is just like any other day. It's inclement weather outside, and rain is pouring down upon the parched ground in buckets. A typical Oklahoma spring day. Usually, this day would mean a big celebration next door at Taylor's house, involving the entire Hanson family, all eight of them, not counting the cats. Walker and Diana, Tay's parents, would be showering their son with gifts, and I'd help him blow out the candles. Then we'd all eat cake and ice cream, strawberry for Taylor and I. But for now, I sit, clutching my tear soaked pillow, and wrapped in a transparent sheet of implacable contemptuous misery.

I've only had to go without this annual ritual for one year, and that was the year that the "clan," as my parents call our best friends and neighbors, moved to South America due to Walker's job as a CPA in the international-finance department of an oil-drilling company. That was the worst year of my life. I was merely 6, and going into Kindergarten without my best friend was pure torture. I couldn't stand the loneliness. Taylor was a piece of me, and having him so far away completely decimated my heart. He was my constituent.

I've known him all my life, and our father's have known each other all theirs. My father, Brian Williams, met Walker Hanson in the second grade. They grew up together as teammates and classmates, and graduated high school side by side. My dad and Walker were even shared the same dorm room in college at the University of Oklahoma. During their freshman year, Walker and Diana married at age 19. They had been high school sweet hearts. Diana, sporting long, golden locks, and Walker, a clean shaven face and dark brown hair, they made a handsome couple.

My father met my mother, Beth Nelson, during his sophomore year, and after 6 months of dating, they were engaged and married.

After finishing college, the four graduates were like one big happy family. So, after my father got a job as a computer engineer, and Mr. Hanson began work with the oil-drilling company, they found two neighboring houses surrounded by trees in a quiet suburb about five miles outside the city, and started to raise their families.

Clarke Issac Hanson was born on November 17, 1980, 7 years after Walker and Diana were married. Taylor was born roughly two years later, and then I was. Zachary Walker Hanson came on October 22, 1985. In the years to follow, Jessica, now 8, Avery, 6, and Mackenzie, who's 3, joined the Hanson family. I'm an only child, so I suppose I was inducted into their family around that time as well.

Chapter 2

Taylor and I were always there for each other during the best of times and the worst of times. Together we'd find strength through grief and pain. One such time was the month before Isaac, Zac, and Taylor's grandma on their mother's side, Jane Nelson Lawyer, passed away. She was an extraordinary woman and had a great impact on all she met. Especially her grandchildren. She was especially fond of each of the boys, and she adored the two girls and Mackie, the youngest Hanson boy, only a toddler.

I have never seen Taylor so distraught as he had been in the hospital before his grandmother died. Despite the bright rays that shone down on Tulsa that Sunday in May of 1996, we were all hanging our heads in sadness as if it were dark and gloomy outside. It had never been clear to me exactly what condition Mrs. Lawyer had and why she had been confined to the hospital so long. I never dared to ask Taylor, who was quite close to his grandmother, as she was him, and hated to speak of her terminal illness. But on each Sunday after church was adjourned, the Hansons', and on rare occasions, my family and I, would go directly from the Sunday morning services to the intensive care unit at the hospital in the center of the city. It provided the best care possible for the brittle woman, and because of this, no one minded the lengthy drive.

The moment I met Taylor's grandmother, which was nearly eight years ago, long before she had been hospitalized, I was drawn to the wise old woman. Since I had lost my grandparents before I had turned 2, I treated her as if she was my own. I was very attached to her, with her sparkling blue eyes and bright smile, which reminded me of my best friend. I used to love the glowing aura that surrounded her. Her cheeks always shone rosy pink and she was never failed to have to be joyous and have a kind word for me whenever I saw her.

While in the hospital, however, she was always on medications and she received her nourishment by means of an IV and an occasional bowl of green jello, which Zac was always eager to help her eat. Although she no longer could eat solid foods, she always seemed to be satisfied and full of love whenever we visited her. On one such visit, I sat in the room with her, as did my parents, when suddenly a doctor came in and ushered Mr. and Mrs. Hanson out of the hospital room and into the bustling hall. Taylor and all of his brothers and sisters were so busily entertaining their beloved grandmother with stories from the past week and such that they hadn't noticed their parent's absence. I had, however. While sitting in a chair near the bedside close to the door, I had seen the look of discouragement on Mrs. Hanson's face. She had raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry of anguish as her eyes widened and filled with tears. She had turned to her husband who was waiting with open arms. Tears had begun to flow down his usually rough and ready face. The doctor walked away, leaving the married couple in a tearful embrace. My mother, too, had noticed their upset emotions but had tried to disregard it, fearing the worst. Taylor, the only one of their children to notice their despair, turned and raised an eyebrow, worry arising from deep within him. Worry was an emotion Taylor knew too well. He fret far too much and some days stress would simply overcome him and he'd go and crawl up like a recluse in his and his brother's room. I tried to distract him as best as possible, but he wouldn't turn his head from the scene on the exterior of the room.

Mrs. Hanson dried her eyes and, hand in hand, they nonchalantly walked back into the room. Tay looked directly at them, question in his eyes.
His parents smiled in a grim manner at him, Diana still sniffling. Ike turned from his grandmother and looked at his parents questioningly.

Feeling like they could trust anything with he and his siblings, he asked, "Mom? Dad? What's wrong?" All eight towheads turned their heads and focusing in on their parents. They looked into their children's eyes, then at my parents. They were speechless. Unable to break such bad news to such angels.

"Uh, Brian? Beth? Could you all spare us some time alone as a family?" Walker said, speaking uncertainly to my mother and father, his voice trembling. This was very hard for him, I could tell. I sympathized for Taylor as I silently exited the room, sluggishly trailing behind my parents. For a brief moment as we shut the door leading into Mrs. Lawyer's hospital room, I examined Taylor's face. Wrinkles of worry developed at his forehead. He leaned against one wall in a disturbed fashion, arms crossed, intensely awaiting his parent's explanation with anxiety. I kept quiet as we strolled down the hall. We walked as far as the visitors lounge and then took our seats in front of the TV. Not a word was said. The seconds ticked by loudly in deafening silence. Finally, we were notified what had happened.

Mrs. Hanson walked us back to the room, where her mother lay. The news had been regarding her own health. She had no more than a week to live. The doctors had done all that was possible to prolong her life. As death loomed over the old woman, she was no less serene and fear did not arise in her spirit. She was however, quite distressed over her grandson's reaction.

"Taylor�my poor baby," muttered Diana to my mother as we had returned to the entrance to Mrs. Lawyer's room. "You go on in, Sara. I sent Walker home with all the other kids. They didn't take it as bad as Taylor. I thought you might comfort him, you being his best friend, ya know."

I had gasped at what lay before my eyes. Taylor was kneeling at his grandmother's bedside, his head lying in the old woman's lap. His entire body was limp, at the mercy of his throbbing heart. She stroked his blonde hair, trying to comfort him as best as possible, even though she feared the pain that lay ahead for him.

"No�" Taylor sobbed, his sensitive heart bleeding its agony. I burst out in tears when I saw his condition. He had never been in so much turmoil. I ran to the bedside and hugged him around the shoulders, and then turned to his grandmother, whose wrinkled, thin, drooping face lamentably wilted from its usual joy. Her strength and incredible healing power did not fail her, however. A tear rolled down her face as I embraced her. Taylor's head lifted. His eyes were bloodshot.

"I'm staying right here," he declared, unwilling to leave his grandmother's side.

"No, Tayles, honey, you have to go on living your life. I don't wanna see you cry over me. You know I wouldn't want that," she replied, searching her grandson's pained eyes.

"No," he agreed, lifting his sleeve to his face and wiping away an adamant tear, "but I have to stay. I just�I have to," he said defiantly, yet at a frustrating loss of words. I knew it wouldn't be right for him to stay. However, I had understood his longing to spend the last days of his grandmother's life with her; it was a completely rational to want that. Mrs. Lawyer wiped another tear from his cheek with her tiny quavering thumb. He looked down at his feet, trying desperately to straighten up and be a man by holding back the tears. Diana walked in and put her hand on Taylor's shivering shoulder. He turned, nostrils flared. She held out her arms, and together they exited the room. He had to leave the hospital, whether he liked it or not. I had turned to his grandmother, and put my arms around the frail woman in a careful hug.

"Thank you Sara. You're a saint." she whispered in my ear. I managed a smile, although quite weak.

To this day, I have never seen Taylor act so unstable, even though it's understandable why he mourned so. His grandmother had died five days later in her sleep. She felt no pain, and passed away with the same grace she possessed during her long, rewarding life. She left many behind, but Taylor's aching was eased immensely by a few simple words of comfort he received from his grandmother previous to her death. She had coaxed him out of his depressed state by reminding him of all the positive times.

I had also made it my mission to provide a shoulder to cry on, although he rarely did so. Gradually his heart was mended and he regained his usual strength and stamina emotion-wise.
Chapter 3

I spent more time in the Hanson's house during these thirteen years of my life than at my own house. Even if Taylor and I couldn't spend week days during the school year together, since he and his siblings are all home schooled, and I attend public school, we always found time for each other. We'd spend time together on weekends and at dusk after homework was completed; Mrs. Hanson was always adamant about that. Sometimes we'd plan to meet each other at the tree house in the huge Sycamore that lines our two properties. Sure, it was adorned with a dangerous amount of rusted nails that protruded out of the rotting wood, but it was our haven; a place where we could talk of anything and everything.

I remember one chat we had one night during the spring of the year we turned nine.

"Sara, what are you gonna be when you grow up?" Taylor questioned.

"Um, I dunno. Maybe an actress. What about you? What do you wanna do?"

"Maybe, someday, somehow be able to perform with Ike and Zac and sing all those songs we wrote for lots of people. Or maybe be an architect," he replied, envisioning what it would be like to sing in front of a huge crowd and thoughtfully staring up at the stars while tugging at the six inch rat tail I'd helped him braid the summer before. He had all ready begun singing two years before when harmonizing with Isaac. Zac soon joined along, after their meager start of singing simple words such as "Amen" at the dinner table in unison. Singing and song writing was in their blood thanks to their parent's gospel chorus work.

"I'll be the first person in line to buy your first CD," I said, smirking. "I can't wait to see your name in lights and I just know I'll read about you in the Urban Tulsa." I recall now how we'd just laughed at my playful sarcasm.

That was five short years ago. Who would have thought that little blonde nine year old's dream would come true so fast.

Chapter 4

The first performance Tay, Ike, and Zac did together as a band was under the name, "The Hanson Brothers" at May Fest, five years ago, the very same year we had had that conversation about the future. This was after their constantly supportive parent's suggestion that they show off their talent. None of the boys knew how to play instruments, but they harmonized so beautifully that they remained a cepella for the next two years.

All of a sudden, I could hear, "Hanson�.band�" being whispered through out the 4th grade halls at my school. I admit, at first I was a little envious of Taylor, but then I decided to join in on the fun. I even helped them write a few songs for their debut independent CD, which I own a copy of. It's complete with a little note written on the inside of the CD jacket that reads:

Sara-
Thanks for being such a great friend. Here's the CD you asked for!
-Taylor


I listen to that CD everyday, and it brings back countless memories. Every good or bad moment we've shared as far back as I reme mber is expressed somehow in the lyrics.

When we were in elementary school, we'd always accompany each other trick-or-treating and load up on candy. Afterwards we'd come back to Taylor's house and wolf down the chocolate and sweets while watching Scooby Doo marathons. He could do the best impression of Scooby. He could always made me laugh, no matter what the circumstance. Once I even laughed so hard at one of his hilarious jokes that I spit chocolate milk all over the Hanson's living room carpet. I was humiliated, but Taylor and his brothers certainly found it hilarious. I suppose the stain remains there to this day.

We'd spend the summers when we were younger hiking in the forest of Oak trees behind our houses and building fortresses. Those trees are what supplied our parents with the wood to build the tree house. Roller blading down the streets and around the neighborhood was an everyday activity. Playing soccer was Taylor's personal choice. But I believe that drawing in the driveway with chalk had been our number one past time. We both became so impeccable at drawing cartoons that we foraged in each of our houses and eventually gathered together every marker that existed and began to draw and color the garage so it was covered by a mural of cartoon characters of our creation. All in all, after finished, it was our perfect masterpiece; our work of art for all to marvel at. We were so proud of our art, but I'm not quite sure if his parents were too thrilled when they saw our cartoons. It had taken us two weeks of the summer we were twelve to blanket half of the cement building with landscapes and dancing trees and such. That summer, we also anticipated the arrival of the County Fair, at which when it finally arrived in Tulsa, we rode all the rides and consumed all the candy in sight.

All in all, that was our greatest summer. We spent every moment possible with each other. If Taylor had a gig to prepare for locally, I'd assist him with his practicing in his living room with his brothers; most of the time doing simple jobs like water girl. Of course, then I'd watch them perform, front row seats. Actually, it wasn't only our greatest summer together, it was indeed our last, considering the fact that a year ago the Hanson's moved to L.A. for six months so Ike, Tay, and Zac, with help from Mercury records, could write and record their long awaited debut CD.

Chapter 5

The day they left, I helped Taylor in packing his entire closet full of clothes and necessities for the extended trip to L.A. We were both unusually quiet. From my more negative point of view, it seemed as though we were losing each other when we needed each other most. We were growing up, and in need of each other's companionship more than ever. I had no idea what I was going to do without him for those long and lonely months that lay ahead.

I remember sitting on the edge of his bed, unconsciously staring at him as he fruitlessly stuffed three pairs of shoes into one of many bulging suitcases. His hair, then just above his shoulders, as was mine, was pulled back, except for his rattail, which had grown to be about a foot long. He was dressed in his favorite maroon shirt with four white stripes sewn on the sleeves and faded baggy jeans that hung comfortably at his sides.

Taylor forcefully pulled the zipper of the bag shut, then lifted himself to a standing position and picked up the suitcase with two hands. It'd looked like he was going to fall over while straining to bear the weight of the bag. I snatched one handle in assistance and smiled a broken smile. We had met eye to eye then. I had been taller than him for quite some time at five feet four inches. But he was finally my height. He'd changed so much, and I suppose, unknowingly, so had I over those past few years. I couldn't stand being without him all ready, and he was still at my side.

After stuffing the last of the twenty bountiful suitcases into the van, our parents said their goodbyes. My mother and Diana were in tears, hugging perpetually and promising vehemently to call or write once in a while. Our fathers decidedly kept their cool. Their faces were stone, an almost bitter manner about them as they shook hands.

I hugged Jessie, Avie, and Mac, and then Ike, who was like a reliable big brother to me, and Zac, who was always fun to be with and never failed to make me smile. Then last, but not at all least, I turned to Taylor. I glanced at his face, which didn't contain its usual joyous quality. His electrifying blue eyes were tear filled, and his lip quivered slightly as he fought the despair. I didn't hesitate a moment to run over and embrace him. I never wanted to let go as we had stood there hugging for that infinite last minute.

"I'll miss you, Tay," I had conveyed to him, sniffling, releasing him after dejectedly compelling my arms to unlock. Then he presented me with an envelope.

"Open it later tonight," was all he said of it. My curiosity was beyond belief, but I remember nodding my head solemnly.

"Bye Sara, see you in December," he murmured, almost silently mouthing the words, painfully stepping back towards the taxi, as though he was walking on a bed of nails. His family had all ready jammed themselves into the vehicle. All I recall doing was waving broken heartedly. I sobbed as I watched the van depart towards the city. I caught a glimpse of Taylor's face one last time in the rear view mirror. His eyes were red with tears as he struggled to banish them from his eyes. My parents stepped up behind me and put their arms around me. Then we melancholically went inside.

The feelings I felt that night are very vivid to me even now. I remember plopping down on my bed, and gingerly tearing open the precious envelope. It read:

Sara-

I know I'll be gone for a long time, but we'll still be able to have fun when I get back. Don't worry. Just be patient. No matter how high or low, I'll be thinking of you the whole time I'm here.
-Taylor

I had dropped the letter and collapsed back onto my pillow. He always had a way with words, I had commented to myself. I remember descending into a deep sleep very shortly after, and dreaming that I was still nine years old and writing and music didn't matter to my best friend. Taylor just wanted to have fun. He wouldn't ever dream of leaving me for L.A.

Now I'm left alone to speculate. Could it have been that I had seen Taylor in a new light? Was that what caused my reaction to his absence? Why was I so upset about six months? Maybe I saw change in the future. Maybe I noticed that the time we'd lose could turn out to be more than six months. This whole music thing seems like a nine year old's bad idea. Whatever the reason, I never figured it'd be like this.

Chapter 6

Here it is, Taylor's birthday. I'm not sure if he's even home. He's most likely off performing with Ike and Zac somewhere in New York. At least that's what I've heard. They consist of the pop music group Hanson, and their new single, MMMBop, is topping the charts all around the world. That's why I'm here, sitting in my room, staring out my window, reminiscing about the past. That's why I'm not partying with Taylor and eating strawberry ice cream and blowing out candles, I explained to myself, pouting.

It began when they returned late in December around the New Year. Late one night, I was startled and awoken by the sound of a familiar car's engine next door. I had sprung out of my bed and bolted to the window, peering out from behind the curtains and staring below at their driveway. Sure enough, he was back. But I had hardly even recognized him. He appeared to be a lot taller, and I estimated he'd grown roughly three inches. His hair, then had turned bleached blonde, and very long, past his broadened shoulders. I had felt differently for Taylor at that point. I knew him well, but now he seemed to be a stranger to me. I had gotten the impression that those six months had meant more than just changes in appearance, but they meant changes in his feelings, too. Maybe I can't even talk to him like we used to because he's so different. Maybe he won't even remember me, I pondered that night. Maybe music is all that matters to him now. I constantly lounged in my window seat by the casement, torturing myself with such unanswered questions.

I wound up holding back and avoiding him to such a degree that I couldn't convince myself to say so much as a hello. I couldn't look at him without feeling like I'd melt without speaking to him; yet at the same time, I hadn't the words on my tentative tongue. Still, I thought about him every spare moment. I'd look at decrepit pieces of the tree house laying on the ground and sigh. I'd tell myself I had enough guts to go knock on his door, but get half way up their steps to the front door, halt and turn around. My emotions were quite jumbled, almost like they were entangled in a spiderweb of doubts I fabricated before them. Taylor isn't just Tayles anymore, I recall thinking. He's a guy, and a very special one at that. A guy I'm falling for. I'd look out my window from time to time over the past few months and observe him as he unwound from a hard day by relaxing in his room. I'd see him studying formations with legos like old times, but he wasn't just the same commonplace person I grew up with. He was something more; basically, my best friend, with benefits, to borrow the words of Alanis Morrisette.

If I thought talking to him then would be difficult, how do I speak to him now that I see him this way? And once I do, will he reject me? If not, will he have time for me between gigs? If only we could be having fun together just as he had predicted last year, I aspired to myself. It scares me to think how we've drifted apart. As the days pass, the distance grows further. I realize I have to make my move. Soon.

"Sara, it's dinner, hun! C'mon down and set the table," my mother summoned me from the bottom of the stairs. I took one last longing look at the deteriorating tree house. It's like a metaphor to my relationship with Tay. Falling apart, I gloated to myself, then got up reluctantly and went downstairs.

"So, today's Taylor's birthday. Did you wish him a happy one yet?" my father questioned me. I looked up from my pea rearranging when he uttered his name. That name�it's so beautiful.

"Um, no, not yet. I will soon. Guess it sorta slipped my mind," I answered, the awful liar I've always been.

"Seems like you two haven't spent much time together since they got back from L.A. Anything wrong?"

"Who, me? Oh, no! Everything's Great!" Perfect, Sara, couldn't be better, I scolded myself. You only haven't had a decent conversation with the guy in three months!

"Everywhere you turn these days, you hear MMMBop. Wow. To think, our Hansons becoming superstars?!" my mother told my father, eyes wide in amazement. To think, my Taylor's voice being heard by total strangers hundreds of miles from here, I possesively wondered in silence.

"I can't wait to hear their album. What's it called? Nowhere something�um�"

"Middle of Nowhere, mom," I interrupted her thoughts. It was so painful talking about their career. Career. They have a career and they're my age. Now THAT is a scary thought, I assured myself. The Hansons' had left once again for Hollywood sometime in back in February to film the music video for MMMBop, but they were back in Tulsa, for now. Not that it matters though, Sara, because you won't be with Taylor until you get the courage to venture over and welcome him home, I reminded myself.

Chapter 8

"Could you grab the mail for me, Sara?" my mom requested one afternoon after bringing me home from middle school in late April.

"Sure," I replied, and trotted out the front door down the driveway. About halfway to the mailbox, I looked up and across my yard to see Taylor puttering around his lawn, kicking an old battered soccer ball towards the street. I glanced over at him, then at my feet. Sara, you're an idiot, I cursed myself unnecessarily. I opened the mailbox, and there lay a copy of the Urban Tulsa. Staring me eye to eye was a cover picture of Tay, Zac, and Ike.

"The Sky's the Limit for Hanson" the caption read. Tears filled my eyes as I hurriedly turned to the article, my fingers clumsily sticking to the pages. Could this be? Had my predictions been right? I shuddered, not able to ascertain the thought.

"They're young, very talented�and they're from Tulsa. What? You haven't heard of Hanson?" I read on, skimming each line in disbelief. Here I am, reading the article five years ago, we had only dreamed of, I declared to myself, disbelieving this irony.

A soccer ball rolled to a stop at my feet. Slowly, I looked up from the magazine and saw Taylor running toward me, his blonde hair flitting hither and thither in the wind, his stride, controlled. I rapidly hid the magazine behind my back and dried my eyes on my sleeve.

"I see you saw today's Urban Tulsa." He spoke. I couldn't contain the joy resulting from this simple action. His voice had gotten so much deeper, that it was almost surreal. Its quality was marvelous. Must be the voice lessons, I thought.

"Oh, uh, yea," I stuttered uneasily, still sniffling, trying to fake a chuckle, barely succeeding. "Guess it's like a dream come true, huh."

"Well, in a way, yea. I'm definitely enjoying the performances, but I miss you guys, and the free time I had. Last month all we did was practice for a conference in New York. We had to stay cooped up in that old musty theater downtown for about six hours a day," he replied. I smiled when he said he missed us, hoping he meant me exclusively.

"Bummer," I replied matter of factly, a vacant stare plastered onto my face. I couldn't comprehend why all of a sudden I couldn't keep my eyes off him. I dreamt, heaving a great sigh. He's not JUST Taylor, he's gorgeous. I just had to notice him.

In a moment of obscure silence, he caught my staring at him, then bent down to pick up the soccer ball lying in the grass at my feet. I attempted to snap out of it.

"Well, uh, I guess I'll see ya later," he said, staring down, avoiding eye contact, concentrating on the ground. He'd never been this demure around anyone, especially me. Fame must have made him a little self-conscious, I decided.

"Oh, okay. Bye," I said, and hesitantly walked back down the driveway. He then ran home, up the porch steps, and through the front door.

I felt so awkward that I didn't know whether to say, "I missed you," or "congratulations," or "I love you". I was drowning in my own confusion. Well, at least we spoke to each other, I convinced myself.

Looking down at the magazine, I grasped it, and ran into the garage. I dropped the mail at the door, and grabbed my roller blades. They were covered in a thick layer of dust. Taylor and I used to race down our driveways in our blades. I hadn't done much skating since he moved to L.A. But just for old times sake, I sat down on the garage steps, and struggled to get them on. Jeez, it sure has been a long time, I mused, smarting in pain as my big toe was scrunched into the boot of the skates. I shoved my foot down, and carelessly laced them up. I stood, and briskly skated to the f oot of the driveway. Then I veered away from Taylor's house, and jumped a curb into the st reet. I turned around just in time to see the Hansons' white van pull out of the driveway and speed off in the other direction. Another practice session, I told myself. Even if we had talked for the first time in months, I shouldn't expect to see him much more than that. He'll always be on the run.

I skated down the street swiftly with the breeze flowing through my hair until I reached the intersection, at which point I turned around and headed home. It was all ready getting dark, and dinner would be soon. Not to mention homework. Even though it's the last month of my 8th grade year, I need to focus, well, on something OTHER than Taylor, I reminded myself.

I unlaced my blades, threw them down next to the car, and ran inside with the mail. I dropped everything but the Urban Tulsa on the kitchen counter.

"Hi dear. You out playing soccer with Tay?" my mom asked as I threw my maroon JanSport backpack over my shoulder and started for the stairs.

"Yup," I replied, after thinking about it for a moment. I wish, I retorted at myself silently in my head, fondly remembering the times when I used to call him "light foot" since he could run so fast in our playful games of soccer. He'd effortlessly get the past me ball to the goal. Once or twice, we'd trip each other and wrestle the ball away. I'll cherish those times as long as I live, I recollected and smiled to myself.

Chapter 9

I sat down by my window, as usual, and turned on the lamp on my nightstand. I opened up my Math book, tore a piece of college ruled paper from my notebook, and began vigorously working the twenty assigned algebra problems.

"Dinner, Sara," my dad's voice bellowed as he shouted up the stairs. I jotted down the answer to the tenth problem, dropped my pencil, and stood up to go downstairs when I saw the Hanson's van pull back into their garage. I felt relieved and a sense of security knowing that Taylor was home, even if I wasn't over there with him.

I walked downstairs, and took my place at the dinner table. Fish. Taylor's favorite. If he was here, he could eat mine for me, I giggled at the thought, staring down at the undesirable meal placed before me. I recall saving him the leftovers, kidding around and calling him a "human garbage disposal."

"So, how was your day, honey?" my mom asked me as I put a forkful of mashed potatoes into my mouth.

"How are you doing in math these days? Are you and I gonna have to hit the books?" my dad quizzed.

"GWEAT," I answered, the previous question in gibberish because my mouth was stuffed, as I nearly spit potatoes at my parents. I must have really disgusted both of them, considering the fact that they kept their questions to themselves for the remainder of the meal.

After I cleared the table and put all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, I eyed the full moon out the window above the sink. I decided it'd be nice to sit outside and enjoy one of the year's last mild spring nights before the sweltering summer took Tulsa by storm.

I opened the front door, reached for the light switch, turned off the porch light, and sat down on the brick stairway. While gazing up at the stars, I remarked on how clear the sky was. All the constellations were in view including the Big and Little Dippers, Orion, the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades, and more. With a little bit of effort, even the nearly transparent Milky Way was visible. Taylor had taught me how to find Orion when we were eleven. We were just sitting in the tree house one night, looking through the leafy branches up at the velvet sky.

"You see that? Those three stars in a row? The red one in the middle? Well, that's Orion's belt. You know, the mighty hunter," Taylor told me as we knelt on the splintered boards of the aging tree house. He pointed up to the constellation.

Now, I looked on alone, with my head resting in my hands as I crouched down on the stairs leading to our front door. All was dark and silent, except for the harmonic chirp of the crickets. Without warning, a light appeared from the beneath the Hanson's house. All of a sudden, three beautiful notes drifted from the basement window and meandered through the still night air to my ears. I craned my neck in order to better hear the sweet, appeasing sound. Crawling off the stairs, I hid behind one of our hedges, which were thick with undergrowth. I gazed out from behind the leaves. I could see Taylor, standing at his keyboards, rocking back and forth on one heel, playing a few chords to accompany the song he was singing. His breath churned the still night air. He sang the chorus with such intensity. I strained to hear the lyrics.

"So take a look at me now! There's just an empty space. You coming back to me, is against all odds and that's what I've got to face�" his voice was phenomenal. The song was beautiful. I crept closer to the basement window to feel the full effect of his wondrous recital. I swore I could sense the vibrations of his voice as each note reverberated up through the soles of my unshod feet. The most wonderful feeling of peace and serenity came over my mind and spirit. I sat down on the grass overshadowed by the tree house. I laid back, the soft blades brushing against my bare arms and legs. I lay there, listening intently to him carol, until he adjourned his leisurely practice session, turned out the light, and retired upstairs to bed. Remembering my homework, I unwillingly lifted myself off the silken grass carpet and went inside.

I reluctantly took a seat down on the floor, my legs crossed, the last ten algebra problems before me. I picked up my pencil, then put it down when an idea popped into my head, and crawled over a few feet on my hands and knees, straining my arm and flipping the switch of the radio. To my surprise, MMMBop was playing. I smiled widely, humming along with the chorus. I sighed a deep sigh, and looked out my window. Day dreaming, I almost determinedly promised myself I'd talk to him. Maybe even tomorrow.

I slid back to my homework, picked up my pencil, and started to solve number eleven. The problems were fairly easy, so it was around 9:00 p.m. when I closed my Math book, yawned, and untangled myself out of the mangled pretzel position my legs were placed in. Opening my top dresser drawer, I rifled through it, upturning six shirts until my excavation expedition was rewarded and I snatched up my black watch plaid boxers and oversized Ron Jon T-shirt. I walked to the bathroom, pulled my hair back, brushed my teeth, and changed into my night clothes.

Walking out of the bathroom, I stretched, and leapt onto my bed. I leaned over to one side, extending my arm to the night stand adjacent to my bed. I clutched my paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet and drew it back to eye level. Fumbling for the place where my bookmark held the page, I opened the book and began reading. I took drama class at school, since acting had always been an interest of mine. As a part of last semester studies, we had begun studying Shakespeare to prepare for an end of the year production. Secretly, I had always dreamed of being cast for the part of Juliet. This, of course was not an easy task, yet I remained undaunted and determined to do my best. Since it was a fine work of literature, and literature, being mine and Taylor's favorite subjects, it made reading the book very interesting and enjoyable.

I read on for at least a half an hour, struggling to comprehend their difficult speech, then paused, and thought to myself, Star-crossed lovers�what a coincidence! At least our parents aren't enemies like the Montagues and Capulets! That has to make it a whole lot easier for me to talk to him. Tomorrow is Saturday. It could be the best day of my life. It could be my chance to catch up on all the time I've lost with Taylor. It could be my chance to tell him all of my feelings. I mean, I used to tell him everything and anything. We even know each other's most embarrassing moments. So why can't I tell him how much I love him? It's kinda funny. One month he's my best friend, the next minute I'm planning a way to tell him how I love him. Growing up is so strange, I concluded, finishing my silent conversation, shaking my head, and chuckling to myself. I was startled a bit when my dad popped his head through my bedroom door to say goodnight to me.

"Night, Sara. Don't sleep in too late tomorrow. You, mom, and I are going to help the Hansons' repair the tree house. Sounds like fun, huh!" my dad exclaimed.

"Oh okay! Night daddy!" I said, flabbergasted. Repairing the tree house! Wow. What a terrific metaphor the treehouse is for my relationship with Taylor! It rotted in the elements almost to the point of destruction. But now, we're all pulling together to save it. I always wanted to paint it red�my thoughts trailed off. I fell asleep on that note.

Chapter 11

The next morning, the sun shone exuberantly through my window panes and the golden rays danced about, lightly caressing my face and tickling my eyelids until I opened my eyes. I yawned, and stretched my arms out from underneath the decorative comforter. I looked at my clock. 7:00 a.m. Normally, I wouldn't even dream of getting up this early. But today was an exception. I was too excited to sleep in any longer.

I flipped the covers off of me, hopped out of bed, and spied out from behind my curtains over into Taylor's room. All three of them were still sleeping. Not even Zac was up. He normally woke with the sun and was bouncing all over the place on a sugar high even before he could get to his Frosted Flakes. I waltzed over to my closet, and pulled out a pair of cut off jeans shorts, a sleeveless white tank top, and my faded red baseball cap embroidered with a bleached, solitary white star. It was the one Taylor had given me so long ago when he had hit a winning home run at an early childhood baseball game.

After I had showered and gotten dressed, I ran downstairs to eat a bowl of Cocoa Crispies. I was up even before my parents. I'm sure they'll figure something is wrong with me if I haven't even thought twice about waking up before 9:00. I hummed "MMMBop" as I buzzed about the kitchen. Just as I sat down to eat, my mom came downstairs in her terry cloth robe. It was now roughly a quarter to eight. Her eyes popped out of her head at the sight of me, her daughter, fully dressed, this early in the morning. Her mouth hung open groggily, but she didn't bother to ask why I was up so early. She just walked like a zombie into the living room and sat down in the recliner in front of the TV.

I wolfed down my cereal, then got up and looked around. What in the world am I gonna do until everyone next door is awake? I tip toed back upstairs, as not to wake my dad. I went into my room, and turned on the radio. Jewel was on. I wasn't that interested, so I quietly went back downstairs, with her song, You Were Meant For Me stubbornly repeating itself in my head. I opened the side door and went outside onto the porch. Trotting down the stairs, I turned left at the bottom of the steps, towards our tree house. I walked on my tip toes so it was possible to peek through the Hansons' kitchen window. I curiously peered through the window from a distance of a few meters to see if anyone was awake. Sure enough, there he was. Taylor was standing by the open refrigerator doorway dressed only in his red candy cane striped red boxers, drinking straight out of the milk carton. He turned around to face the window after he seemed to be satisfied. I ducked, nervously crouching as low to the morning dew covered ground as possible. When I thought the coast was clear, I got up, looked around me in all directions, and heaved a great sigh of relief. I walked over to the Sycamore, eyeing it dotingly. It had grown to be as tall as our houses over the fourteen years I had lived here. There, perched on the same sturdy branch that bore mine and Taylor's carved names, was the tree house. The bottom of the edifice sagged slovenly due to water damage, and the roof sported an implausible hole in it. An entire side of it lay on the ground in a heap of rotten wood. I picked up a large piece of wood that had rotted so badly that one could snap it in two with great ease. I held it gingerly, though, protecting it in an almost maternal fashion. If this piece of wood could talk�

"Uh, hey," a voice from behind me said. I jumped out of my skin and whirled around. To my surprise, it was Taylor, standing with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his tan corduroy pants, which he wore with a plain, bland, white T-shirt. His incandescing blonde hair fell just above his shoulders and blew slightly to one side as a light breeze crossed his face.

"Hi!," I answered, the board still cradled lovingly in my arms.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Great!" I replied, enthusiastically nodding my head.

"Can't wait to start on the tree house! Looks like it's gonna take a while," he said, looking up.

"Yeah, but we'd better wait for everyone to wake up," I said, trying desperately to stall our conversation as to spend more minutes alone.

"You're right. Uh, let's go wait over here," Taylor suggested, motioning for me to follow him. I trailed behind him as he headed for the garage door of my house. Turning around, he put his back against the brick wall beside the entrance and slid down until he was in a sitting position on the pavement. I did the same, seating myself a couple of feet from Taylor. I drew my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around my shins and resting my head upon my knee caps. I studied my dingy, bedraggled Adidas running shoes, the laces sprawled on the pavement. Taylor looked around him, apparently deep in thought. Something caught his eye in the hedges.

"Hey, Sara, ya wanna play some b-ball?" he questioned me, motioning with his thumb to a dilapidated brown basketball that resided under the safe confines of our prickly green hedges.

"Yeah, sure!" I said, jumping at the opportunity. Not that you have a prayer of defeating Taylor, though, I ensured myself.. He took it upon himself to go retrieve the basketball, and as he did so, I got to my feet and brushed off my jeans shorts, carrying the piece of driftwood off and placing it down gently on the grass.

"One on one?" Taylor asked zealously, a twinkle in his eye. I rose to the challenge, yet not so secure that I'd be a good match for "lightfoot".

"Here, you can start with a gimme," he said, tossing the ball to me with such great force that my hands felt a slight burning sensation as I caught it. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs, and then exhaling, squinted intently on the target above my garage door. Taylor rolled up his sleeves over his biceps and bent down, bracing himself on his knees. He concentrated on the ball I was holding. Skittishly, I dribbled it a few times. Nervously I stuck the tip of my tongue between my teeth, nibbling at it in a fidgety manner. Then I stiffly let my legs fold as I crouched in a peculiar stance, my arms tensed and preparing to release the ball. In a matter of seconds, the ball was airborne, in a seemingly straight path for the goal. It appeared to hang in mid air for a brief instant when suddenly, to my surprise, it sailed down through the hoop, making a virtually impeccable swishing sound. I grinned from ear to ear, a triumphant hissing "YES" sound leaving the tip my tongue.

"Great shot!" Taylor congratulated exultantly, picking up the ball as it rolled in the opposite direction. He smiled a wide, t oothy smile, then dribbled the ball, charging at me, controlling the ball with great ease. He circled around me a few times before I felt myself getting slightly dizzy. Then he took off in the direction of the goal, his feet leaving the ground as the result of a springing reaction in his legs. He held the ball held in one hand high above his head, incredibly, as spun in the air, his arm outstretched as he tossed the ball effortlessly through the net. I stood in the same place I had shot my free throw from, my mouth hanging open in astonishment. As his feet met the asphalt again, I caught the beaming smile on his face.

"Now let's see what you're really made of�get past THIS!" Taylor said dauntingly as he bounced the ball to me. I caught it, as he bent his knees, preparing to run at me at any moment and seize the ball from my hands. I dribbled the ball swiftly, hopping around and bounding in time with the basketball. Taylor ran towards me just as I steadied myself and began my dash to the goal. He blocked me, his arms fortified for stealing the ball from my grasp. I however, did not relent, and I turned around, craftily dribbling the ball under my legs and to the other side when I did an about face, my back to Taylor. He reached around with his left arm, lunging for the ball. I giggled and ran to one side, but he stayed close behind my every motion. When it seemed that I had no choice but to stand in that one place, I stopped dribbling and hugged the ball so Taylor couldn't get it. He laughed at this action, and I could feel his heavy breath on my neck as he forged his hands at the cunningly protected ball. I began dying with laughter, so much that I felt my face turn red and tears form in the corners of my eyes, causing my emerald green tinted irises to alter themselves to a deep shade of blue. The sound of our laughter in unison bounced and echoed back and forth from the sides of both of our houses. It caused a great clangor.

When Taylor could take no more of this foolishness, he ignored the rules of basketball and reached around me with both his arms, groping for the tattered ball when instead he laid his hand on my wrist, trying to tear them away. But it was to no avail. He tried everything, including pulling my arms in different directions to loosen my grasp and trying to punch the ball out of my hands. Although he was astoundingly strong, I held on to the basketball, gripping it with all my life force.

After all his hard work to steal the ball, we were eventually separated by no more than an inch, and I could feel each straining movement of his thick arm muscles which were beginning to adorn microscopic droplets of liquid. All at once, I stopped howling with laughter and quit forcefully clutching the ball. When I did this, Taylor stopped trying to rip the ball away. His face, which was a deep shade of crimson after the rough workout, was level with mine. His head, now over my right shoulder, was laid so gently that we were ear to ear and I could feel the torrid temperature of his red cheeks. His arms ceased to try and work the ball away, and now they weren't so tensed. There was no longer any fighting for the ball, therefore no reason to stand, wrapped in his arms, as I did. But I enjoyed it immensely, and relished in the time I spent standing as we did. I imagined we were in a loving embrace. I closed my eyes tightly as I felt his hand slide down my arm from my elbow where it had been secured, to my hand, which had lost track of the precious basketball it was so viciously protecting. If this is a game tactic, it's a pretty slick one, I told myself, fantasizing. Just when I thought he would surely let go and grab the ball triumphantly, he slipped his docile hand back up my arm towards my shoulder, leaving my nerves jumping and my heart pounding unstoppably. I was sure he could feel its fast beating rhythm through my back. Is this dreamy, or what, Sara? I spoke to myself contentedly, when my thoughts were interrupted in an unwelcomed manner.

"Oooo double DRIBBLE Taylor!" Zac's voice cooed after he appeared out of thin air. Suddenly Taylor jumped back, tentatively letting go of me and I gasped, stunned, letting the ball drop out of my hands, falling to my feet. Zac always finds a way to mess things up! I bitterly said to myself. I wheeled around to see Taylor racing after his swift brother who had already taken to flight away from his older, tougher sibling. When finally catching up, Taylor took Zac's neck under his arm in a headlock and dragged him unwillingly back to where I stood as if he were a lion presenting me with his kill.

"Zac, you little--"

"Hey Sara! How's it going? You kicking Tay's butt in a round of one on one?" Isaac's voice came from the Hansons' garage.

"Yup," Zac answered back. Taylor tightened his grip on his younger brother's neck. I giggled slightly.

"OWWW!!" Zac screeched in pain as Taylor tensed his arm around his throat. Then sympathizing for Zac, released him from his grasp. Zac in turn pivoted and shook his head to make sure his neck was still intact.

"I'll get you my pretty! And your little Sara, too!" Zac cackled at Taylor, pointing a crocked finger, and dashed inside the Hanson's house, nearly crashing into Isaac in the process.

"So you guys must be real hungry after such a tough game, huh Taylor?!" Ike couldn't resist commenting, elbowing Taylor, lightly indicating that he meant something more than what he said. Taylor in turn jabbed Ike in the gut as a way of saying harshly, "Don't say one more word or else."

"FYI, IKE," Taylor said through his teeth, "I was actually helping Sara practice, cause she's interesting in trying out for the JHS team, right Sar?" Taylor asked me, widening his eyes.

"Uh huh! You got it!" I played along enthusiastically. There's no way you're trying out, Sara! I thought.

Changing the subject as quickly as possible after regaining the feeling in his stomach, Ike offered, "So, you guy's wanna come inside and grab a bite to eat before we start working on the treehouse?" I glanced at Taylor, then at Ike and shook my head in agreement.

I hadn't been in his house for so long. I felt out of place and lost. But the Hansons' soon made me feel at home. Ike and Taylor led me through the living room that was dominated by a drum set, three guitar cases, and a keyboard, and waltzed into the kitchen. Taylor opened the refrigerator. Zac ran and shoved his way in front of Taylor, grabbing the milk from the shelf on the door. He snickered in triumph then grabbed his bowl of Corn Pops from the counter and joined me at the table.

Taylor picked an apple out of the fruit drawer and tossed it to me. I didn't expect him to do that, but I caught it just in time. "Thanks," I said, appreciatively, as I cupped the apple in one hand. He took out the orange juice carton and poured himself a glass. This surprised me, since he always used to just drink out of the carton when I was around. Ike went over to the refrigerator after waiting his turn. Taylor came over and sat down at the table next to me.

"Aren't you gonna have some cereal or something?" I asked Taylor.

"Nope. All ready had three bowls this morning," he answered. It's good to know he still eats like he used to. Guess he still was that human garbage disposal, I deliberated.

"Oh okay. Good," I answered. I tapped my fingers on the table as I chewed my apple. He tapped his foot. Zac chewed and slurped ravenously.

"Uh�.so�." I said, breaking the silence, "How was everything in L.A.?"

"Man, it was SO awesome. It was cool rollerblading on Venice Beach. The surfing was great, too," he told me.

"Wow, you know how to surf? For real?" I said, surprised. Zac shook his head yet remained silent because his mouth was full. Isaac stayed absorbed in the selections of the refrigerator.

"Oh yeah, you should try it. Well, we didn't have much time to hang out at the beach. We had to practice and record most of the time. But once, we did get to jump into the Dust Brother's pool after finishing off Man from Milwaukee. That was the best," he described to me.

"This is mother bird, calling baby bir�"

"Zac don't start," Ike interrupted and warned Zac as he began to break out into song.

I reflected to myself on how great and how much fun it would have been in L.A. at the beach. Thinking out loud, I said under my breath so no one could hear, "I wish I had been there with you."

"What?" Taylor asked, drawing all his attention to me rather than Ike and Zac's conversation..

"Oh�uh nothing. Just thinking," I replied. I was so content just to be with him. I wasn't as relaxed as I used to be when we used to hang out, however.

"How are you gonna have time to work on the tree house? Don't you have some big performance or something?" I questioned Taylor, praying he'd say no.

"Nope. We have a week off. On May 4th, we're off to debut on Rosie O'Donnell, then Letterman and the Today Show the next few days."

"Aren't you all nervous? I mean, I've never even been on TV locally, but NATIONALLY?!" I said, thinking about the whole nation watching the guys performing.

"Well, I am a little bit�" Taylor started, but Zac once again interrupted his brother.

"Me? Zac-a-rama? Naw, no way!"

"�but I guess its only normal." Taylor continued, giving Zac a stern, pointed look. "We've been waiting for a chance like this for so long. You remember, don't you?" he continued. Remembered, I practically have the transcripts! I answered to myself.

"Totally," I replied, staring deep into his sky blue eyes. They hadn't changed a bit. They were still so beautiful and unique.

Suddenly, Diana walked into the kitchen, fully dressed. Walker followed, wearing some paint spattered overalls. It was clear he was ready to take out the tools and repair the tree house.

"Sara! Long time no see! How've you been, dear?" Diana said to me, exultant, as always.

"Great! Just been busy with school I guess. But it seems like you guys have been everywhere in the past few months!" I answered.

"Music takes up a lot of time. I hardly have time to just hang out and have fun. But don't get me wrong, I love music," Taylor explained to me.
"Today is one of the rare occasions we're here in Tulsa, and we're doing absolutely nothing. So that's why I thought it'd be a good day to work on the tree house. I mean, it looks kinda sad, don't ya think?" Tay said, directing his attention out the window to the Sycamore. Wow. It had been Taylor's idea to fix up the tree house! I'm so dumb. All this time, I've been avoiding him over NOTHING! I mentally kicked myself.

"Your parents awake yet, Sara?" Walker asked me, pouring himself a cup of coffee, swiveling his head around from the kitchen counter to face me.

"I dunno. I hope so. The tree house needs a lot of work. We need all the time we can get if we want it back in top condition," I answered. Referring to the tree house as if it was the Sistine Chapel, now are we Sara? But hey, it is sacred, to Tay and I, at least.

Chapter 12

The doorbell rang. Zac catapulted himself from his seat at the kitchen table and raced to the door screaming, "I'll get it! I'll get it!" when he was just in time to see his sister Jessica unlatch the front door. There stood my mom and dad. Diana and Walker cheerfully headed to the door to greet them. I put down my apple, and Taylor and I got up and walked to the door, side by side, like always. Yet now, I was even with his shoulder. Isaac followed behind us, peeling a banana.

"HEY!!!!!" our mom's shouted, rejoicing in each other's presence. Hmm�they hadn't talked to the Hanson's in a long time, either, I guessed. My parents said hello to Walker and Zac, then Isaac who had walked out from behind Taylor and I in order to welcome my parents. Then they greeted the rest of the clan that was now coming down the stairs, Mac bringing up the rear by crawling backwards down the stairs on hands and knees while pretending to be a puppy.

Last, my parent's directed their attention over to Taylor and I, who were standing behind Walker and Diana. My mom took a quick glance over at me, and then nearly gasped aloud after glimpsing Taylor.

"Well�look at you," she commented, taking a few steps over towards Taylor, admiring his appearance, no doubt noticing how much he'd grown. He looked down at the ground, his cheeks flushed, his hair hiding his embarrassment. My mother smiled a wide smile at me, then faced Diana. Mothers, can't live with em, can't live without em, I told myself, disgruntled. Walker ran to the garage door and returned with a heavy duty tool box. My mom and Diana, who was holding Mackie, headed for the kitchen, followed by Jessie, Avie, Zac, and Ike. Taylor turned around and started for the kitchen too, his face still a little flushed.

Chapter 13

We all filed out the door leading down stairs to the garage, when our historic cartoons of two years past jumped out at me, beginning with the large "Dead End" sign. The colors were less brilliant, but they still covered half the interior walls of the garage, plus another third that Taylor had added, creating a full spectrum of colors. Then we all walked to the side yard, where the sycamore stood. Zac ran over and picked up the longest rotting board he could find, and charged over to Ike, yielding the piece of wood and brandishing it like a sword.

"Unguard!" he cried, poking Ike in the arm with the frail board. It broke in half and crumbled to the ground upon contact. We all just laughed at Zac, who was astonished that his "weapon" had failed him.

"Okay, uh, I think first we should stack the rotted wood in a pile for the compost. While you work on that, I'll go grab some new boards from the garage," Walker directed, with a sense of leadership. We all shook our heads in acknowledgment, then started to work. I kneeled to the ground and reached around for the many varied smaller pieces. Taylor crouched to my left, and when we both reach for the same board once or twice, we'd graciously offer it back to each other as if it were some kind of gift. It was so odd how polite we were to each other these days. A few years ago, we would have shouted at each other over the smallest things. When we were five, I remember how we had a sizeable argument over right and left. The problem was that we were facing each other during the fight. Ike had stopped the shouting match by informing us that we were BOTH wrong. That was the end of that!

The next step in repairing the tree house was replacing the floor. Walker and my dad worked diligently on hammering new planks of wood into place as the rest of us sawed 2x4's in half to build back the walls of the tree house. Of course, Mac, Jessie, and Avie could only watch, so Diana and my mom took them inside for a water break, considering that it was nearly ten in the morning, and already eighty-eight degrees, summer in the air. So Taylor, Ike, Zac, and I rolled up our sleeves and got down to work on sawing and sanding the boards. We had roughly ten to go.

There wasn't much to talk about, so as the three brothers worked, they hummed a few songs off the "Middle of Nowhere". It really made the work go by a lot faster. Befor e we knew it, it was past lunch time, and Walker was nailing down the last board to the tree. The roof would be next.

"Just a few pieces of thick plywood should cover this hole," Walker sa id, as we passed the largest piece we had left up the ladder. After hammering it into place, he climbed down, and we all stood back about twenty feet from the tree house to admire it. Sure, it's just plain cedar wood, but it's perfect. Paint would spoil it, I reserved my previous thoughts of painting it red.

"It's crooked," Jessie said, tilting her head in disgust when returning outside, post lemonade break . I shook my head and chuckled to myself. Jessie always had some criticism. Taylor pat Jessie on the head, humoring her in an older brother sort of way. She didn't appreciate us laughing at her comment. She crossed her arms, and declared, "Well, it's TRUE!" We all just ignored the gesture and went inside, famished, nearly dying of thirst and hunger.

Chapter 14

I doggedly dragged myself through the garage door, up the stairs, and into the Hanson's kitchen, followed by Tay, Zac, and Ike. We were all ready to faint from heat exhaustion, but the soothing blast of the air conditioning felt wonderful as we slumped down into the seats at the kitchen table. Diana and my mother handed us each lemonade glasses. It felt great to sit down after a morning of hard work, but it felt even better to have fixed the tree house after all those months of neglecting it.

After our lemonade break, we followed the three brothers into the living room where their instruments resided. They had promised to play for my family and I.

Ike carefully unpacked his shiny red electric guitar and pulled his pick from his back pocket. He strummed a pair of A and #F chords. Taylor hopped over one of the two guitar amps and stepped behind his keyboards, plugged them in and switched them on. Zac took a seat at his huge drumset, and picked up his drumsticks. I sat down, my legs crossed, on the floor in front of the sofa that my parents and the rest of the Hansons were sharing. I was terribly eager to hear them play. I hadn't heard any of the songs on their debut CD, since it was yet to be released until sometime the following week.

Zac spurred himself into action and broke out in a chorus of, "I don't wanna work, I just want to bang on the drum all day! Yea! Woo hoo!" I laughed uncontrollably at his gesture. Then, on a more serious note, he altered his focus to his brothers to check if they were ready to begin, then he held his drumsticks over his head, and tapped out the beat as he counted out loud, "one�.two�.one two three four." Then, he struck the bass drum by slamming his foot down on the pedal. With a swift beat of his drumsticks striking the drumset, and a high guitar chord from Ike, the first song of our private concert began. Taylor was really jamming at the keyboards, intensely tapping the rhythm with his left foot every other beat upon the hard wood oak floor. Zac swung his head from side to side in harmony with his beating of the drums. About 10 notes into the song, Taylor put his lips close to the microphone, and cried out in song a wonderful "Whoa oh." Undoubtedly, it was one of the most fabulous sounds I'd ever heard. I listened, delighted, waiting for the next lyrics.

"Out my window, a memory�.I'm dyin' inside, I know the way it should be�even though it was right in front of me, it's something I just couldn't see�" Taylor's voice rebounded into the microphone and in turn shot out of the amp and echoed through out the house. The lyrics�they're absolutely perfect. It's almost like Taylor had been reading my mind when I used to sit by my window, staring out into the pouring rain, thinking about the past and dreaming of what the future could be like, I day dreamed, listening on. The words got more and more perfect by the second.

"Your lonely face, your lonely eyes, but this is something you can't disguise," Ike traded the lead with Taylor, "its not just me, you feel it too, cause you know I belong with you�" Magic. I closed my eyes, and immersed myself in the song. It's so powerful; to me, at least.

"Look at where we're going, tell me what can I say�we're tracing our footsteps, we're going the same way�" Taylor sang these words, and as I opened my eyes, awaiting the chorus, I caught him looking directly at me, an adorable puppy look on his face. I smiled back, but he turned away, eyeing his finger tips on the keyboard as I did so.

"Madeline�here we go around again�you know it, I know it, don't try to pretend�you know it could be so much better than it's been�oooooh�.here we go round again." I admit, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, so I wasn't actually listening to the lyrics from then on. I loved the song, though, it being very catchy with a blues rhythm. Halfway through, I was able to mouth the words and sound out the rhythm by lightly knocking my knee on the floor. If only my name rhymed with again�Sara�here we go around again�Oh well, I can dream, can't I?

Chapter 15

The song faded, and we all applauded the brothers, as Zac jumped over his drums and ran to take a bow. Taylor blushed slightly, and Ike bent over his guitar. Sure, it wasn't a concert with an audience of 50,000 people. But it was special. With that, they went back behind their instruments and started the next song, which began with Taylor's keyboards. On the opening notes, I realized how talented he had gotten at the instrument over the past year. He had been taking lessons for almost five years now, and it was obviously paying off. He resumed singing.

"If I'm gone when you wake up, please don't cry. If I'm gone when you wake up, it's not goodbye. Don't look back at this time as a time of heartbreak and distress, remember me, remember me, I'll be with in your dreams�" Taylor gave it his all, his head back, eyes tightly closed, putting an enormous amount of feeling into this slower, more ballad-like song. It was a song of loss and comfort through fond memories. I understood immediately their inspiration for the song. Grandma Lawyer's glowing, angelic face shined inside my head. I stared down at the floor, allowing the song's lyrics to stream into my ears. I turned behind me to see what Taylor's parent's reaction were to this song selection. Diana was fighting tears as Walker held her tightly. My mother pat her best friend on the back, trying to comfort her. I swiveled my head around and searched Taylor's eyes. They were glassy and filled with sorrowful tears. Yet through this moment of sadness, it only improved the quality of his voice. It was wonderfully soulful, and very distinctive. The song went on, a hint of gospel after the chorus, in which the boys echoed each other. Taylor was truly fighting his tears at this point, and his face was turning red as he did so. I was heartbroken all over again for my best friend. I lifted a lazy hand to wipe away one of my own quiet tears that began to flow down my cheek.

The song ended on the note, "Remember me, remember me, cause I'll be with you in your�.dreams." The last word was drawn out detrimentally in a painful manner, and Taylor, full of heartache, closed his eyes to encase the tears so that they wouldn't slid down his cheeks relentlessly. Isaac and Zac were fighting the same internal conflict as well.

Taylor didn't look at over in my direction this time. He just stood back from his keyboards, opening his eyes slowly, allowing one tear to drip from his liquidy blue eyes to a resting place on his white T-shirt. Then he looked up and grimaced, contorting his face forcefully into a grim smile, the corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly.

Following Taylor's lead in a change of mood, Isaac set down his guitar on its case, followed by Zac, who took a flying leap over his cymbals in an attempt to change the focus of the moment. He did so very well, and soon everyone was giggling effervescently as Zac peeled himself from off the floor after narrowly missing the cymbals, tripping, and crashing down to the ground. Taylor light heartedly threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably at his brother's mishap.

"I�I meant to do that, yea!" Zac explained, rubbing a smarting bruise on his elbow. Soon the whole Hanson family and my mom and dad started giggling, releasing all the tense feelings we had experienced just seconds ago. Even Zac giggled, snorting in between breaths as he thought of how funny his own trip was.

After Zac got back on his feet, they all took another bow, and then Ike packed up his guitar and Zac put his drumsticks away after a final triumphant swing at the cymbals.

"That was wonderful, boys!" my mom exclaimed, still clapping for them. I smiled at all of them, and nodded my head, agreeing with my mom. Then we all got up and headed back towards the kitchen for our long awaited lunch. My mom and Diana opened the refrigerator and removed a head of lettuce and three tomatoes from the vegetable drawer. They picked out some sliced turkey and other lunch meats as I grabbed the bread for them from the cabinet. Lunch. My stomach had been growling at me and cursing me for not nurturing it properly. I joined them at the kitchen counter, and made a few sandwiches, however quite sloppy, with mayonnaise and bits of lettuce dangling over the edge of the white bread. I passed the first one to Avie, who was at my side, hungrily eyeing and pleading for it. The next one I took for myself and went searching for a seat at the dinner table in an adjacent room, since everyone else was busily constructing their own meals. I sat down in a middle seat on one of the longer sides, half hoping that Taylor might sit by me, the other half hoping that he wouldn't, just in case if I dropped a tomato in my lap or something of that humiliating manner. With my luck, that'll definitely happen, I assured myself.

Taylor walked into the room, glanced at each available seat, shrugged his shoulders lightly, and hesitantly sat across from me. My dad sat next to me, mom on the other side. Zac and Ike sat on either side of Taylor, and Jessie, Avie, and Mac sat on the floor, intently playing a game with their younger brother. I observed that they were imagining that Mackie was a puppy, and they'd instruct him to roll over then reward him with a scrap of ham from their sandwiches. It was such a sight to see, and it took a little of the pressure off me to chew with my mouth closed and without making too much noise. Of course this was to impress Taylor, who's attention was all on Zac, who was slurping, dropping food, and burping out loud. Diana was very strict with Zac, who she described as her "trouble maker". His siblings affectionately called Zac the "Animal". It seemed as though he was always constantly on a sugar high.

"Rodeo Drive was such a zoo," Diana described to my mother, who was listening with full attention to Diana speak about their time spent in California, and how frequently they were besieged.

"There were so many limos! It's incredible how many stars live there. But we didn't see a single one." Diana had been disappointed at that fact. Walker didn't seem to care, and he expressed that by rolling his eyes at my father, and smirking at his wife.

Ike, Tay, and Zac finished off their turkey sandwiches, and excused themselves to the kitchen simultaneously. Then they retreated downstairs to the garage away from their younger siblings. Taylor looked over at me for an instant, trying to figure out whether it would be right for him to invite me downstairs with them or not. He still seemed to be embarrassed for what Zac had commented on this morning. He then turned timidly, and followed them without a word, leaving me with the rest of their family and my parents.

Chapter 16

I got up from my seat and brought my plate into the kitchen as my parents and the rest of the Hansons' finished their conversation. I glanced down at my Timex watch. It was all ready 4:00 p.m. Jeez, time flys when you're with the Hansons', I thought. As Diana and Walker led the three of us to the door, they thanked us for all the help on the tree house.

"Thank you so much, we couldn't have finished it without you," they told us.

"Oh no problem, it was our pleasure. Besides, I think Sara missed the tree house," my mom answered, then looked at me for compliance with her answer. I just smiled, then stuffed my hands deep into my pockets. For once, she actually understands my feelings, I told myself, shaking my head in disbelief.

"You realize that tomorrow we're off again to New York for a bunch of interviews and a couple of show recordings," Diana informed us. My heart sank with a decided thud within my chest. Just as things were looking up. It just isn't fair.

"Yeah, the boys are debuting on Rosie O'Donnel then Letterman the next night. We have a bunch of interviews to go to between and after the two. Then we'll come back next week," Walker explained.

"Wow, you guys are really busy, huh," I said, flatly. More time lost.

*******

Chapter 17

After another silent meal consisting of pensive, distant spaghetti twirling, I went upstairs, retiring to my room. I had heard a few stray notes from the Hanson's early practice session that drifted in through my window. But now all was silent next door, and they were apparently done practicing. Yawning, I strolled over to my closet and snagged my nightgown off its hanger and threw it on. I fell back onto my soft bed, and checked the clock. It was only 7:14. Searching for something to pass the time, I eyed my copy of Romeo and Juliet. I lifted it from its place on my nightstand, opened it to the page where I had left off, and began reading. Caught up in the intriguing plot, I could imagine myself playing the part of fair Juliet up on the Jenks Middle School stage, although I perceived my appearance as being not at all beautiful or "Juliet-like".

"�.and the west is the sun. Arise fair sun�" I read Romeo's words to myself just as Taylor's lamp in his bedroom turned on. It was Ike, with a suitcase under his arm. Packing time, oh joy, I thought negatively. I read on, deeply into Shakespeare's beautifully sewn tale. The balcony scene�

"Romeo, Romeo, where fore out thou Romeo?" Juliet questioned. I looked out the window again, clutching my book, pulling the curtains back a couple inches. I wonder where Taylor is, I cogitated. Shrugging when I couldn't see anyone through their bedroom window, I sat back on my pillows and read on through the balcony scene.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I shall say goodnight 'til it be morrow" Juliet whispered to Romeo as he scurried down from the balcony. If only they knew what the future held. Maybe it's best not to know. But I dwell on the past and dream about the future all the time. I rested my hands under my head on my pillow, the book resting on my stomach, rising and sinking with each breath I took. Closing my eyelids, I drifted off to sleep, the lamp on my night stand still switched on.

"Didn't you hear? We're moving back to Venezuela. Then we're moving into a tea house in Japan." The sound of Taylor's cherubic voice reprecussioned through my wary head. "I'll never see you again, Sara�" the dreaded words chimed in my mind, so much that I jolted fearfully, and sat straight up, hyperventilating. Then I slowed my breathing, and took a deep breath knowing it was all just a dream.

"Thank gosh," I assuaged aloud at a hushed whisper. My light was out, which meant my mother had probably turned it off earlier. The clock read 11:33. I rubbed my eyes and flung my feet over the side of the bed. I had the instinct that Taylor would leave Tulsa tomorrow for good, and that nightmare didn't help my suspicion.
I resolved that perhaps a glass of milk would silence my distinct feelings of fear, so

I tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen wearing a (in my opinion) excessively feminine long sleeve lilac colored nightgown. I opened the refrigerator gently as not to alert my parents, and pulled out the skim milk carton. Setting it on the counter, I took a cup from the cabinet and poured myself a glass of milk. As I guzzled it, I looked out the kitchen window from over my glass at the new tree house. There it is, all fixed up, and no one's used it yet. What a shame. Slowly, I unlocked the kitchen door, stepping onto the porch in my bare feet. Still focusing on the sycamore, I walked to the edge of our yard and halted at the bottom of the tree trunk. Quietly and deliberately, I climbed the ladder and when reaching the top, sat down on the sturdy, newly sanded wood. Twisting around in my seated position, I looked out the open window and noticed Taylor's light was on. Hmm, must still be packing. I leaned back and stared up at the roof, deep in thought. Will fame get to Tay? What will happen to us if it does? Will he forget me? What an awful thought.

At that, the tree swayed and shook slightly, jarring a few leaves here and there as someone climbed the ladder two steps at a time. I looked down, and to my surprise, it was Taylor. I sat back up, my back rigid, frozen in its posture. Look at me, in my girly nightgown! How embarrassing. But still, boxers aren't exactly your normal everyday outfit either. I took a deep breath.

"Hey!" I exclaimed shakily, my voice almost at a squeal. I swallowed, trying to tame my unruly vocal cords. His head flew up, and I caught the startled look on his face in the moonlight. He glanced down, then up, his cheeks flushed. I giggled a little, and shut my mouth tight to stifle it.

"Uh�why are you awake so late?" Taylor questioned, as he took a seat in the corner of the tree house opposite me.

"Well, um, I dunno, I guess I couldn't sleep," I replied, seeking a quick answer. Thank goodness you woke up when you did, Sara.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking about our debut," he explained.

"Oh, don't worry. You just gotta relax," I reassured him.

He nodded his head, and began nervously tapping his fingers on the floorboards.

"So, how's school been?" he asked me, trying to make decent conversation.

"Oh, pretty good. Actually, we had a school dance last Friday," I mentioned.

"Really? Man, I wish I could have gone, even though my dancing is a little�um�weird."

"I doubt it. You should be an awesome dancer," I told him.

"Thanks. I guess I just don't know how. I mean, how do people dance at dances?" he questioned, having never been to one in his life.

"Well, it depends on the song. Something with a pop sorta rhythm would be good for fast dancing, where you just go with the flow."

"What about slow songs?" he asked me.

"Um, I mean, obviously, wouldn't wanna disco dance to that," both of us chuckling awkwardly at the thought. Continuing, I said, "It's more like�uh, couple dancing. It's hard to explain."

"Well, would you show me?" he asked, an innocent look in his glistening blue eyes.

"Sure," I said tentatively, my nerves spurring me to a standing position. Taylor got up as well and stood facing me.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Um�well�here," I said, biting my lip. I lifted my arms waveringly and gently rested my hands down on his tense shoulders. I shuddered slightly as he set his hands on my hips. We just stood there, eyes to eye, in the moonlight, hopelessly stuck in one place as if our shoes were cemented to the floor.

"Okay�" he said.

"Oh yeah, we need some music�a slow song. You just, um, sway to the beat," I explained quietly. He took in a deep breath, leaned in and sang softly and sweetly into my ear.

"When you have no light to guide you, and no one to walk beside you, I will come to you, oooh, I will come to you." The beautiful sound lifted the heavy midnight silence trapped in by a thick, humid, haze. I melted in his arms. Eventually, we moved close enough together that I was able to rest my head on his shoulder.

"And I swear that I'll be there, come what may," he continued, a crescendo in his voice. I inhaled deeply, immersed in the pleasant spell his singing placed me under. We continued to shift from left to right together, even after I started to drift off into a point of sleep where one is still aware of occurrences yet talks in nonsense as though they're sleep-walking.

My head remained snuggled comfortably on his shoulder.

"I will come�.to you." Taylor moderated his voice, softening it until it became mute and the midnight silence once again fell around us. I felt him pivot his head down to see if I was awake. He held me for a moment after we stopped swaying. It was so peaceful, and I was just barely conscious.

"Sara?" he said tranquilly. His euphonious words poured into my ears, and I twitched my neck, my eyes merely slits. I yawned, and Taylor smiled at me and took my hand from his shoulder, leading me supportively down the ladder and across the grass bare foot. We stopped at my porch. Still in a drowsy state, I searched my tired mind for something meaningful to say to him.

"Night, Sara," he called at a whisper to me. I postured myself there on the porch, my eyes shut, my neck resting to one side, trying to wake up enough to find something to say, but my mind was relentless in its journey to dreamland. Taylor looked at me an instant, and without getting a reply from me, he slowly walked away, his eyes at the ground.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," I called out quietly, recalling the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. After saying it, I snapped out of my partially awake state, and laughed at myself for saying that.

"Yes but absence makes the heart grow fonder. Farewell o maiden," Taylor answered, playing along. I smiled a bright smile, and watching him as he turned away and returned home. Yawning uncontrollably, I opened the kitchen door and slipped silently inside. I looked over my shoulder at the tree house. We've made a new memory. Now all my dreams will be sweet. I quickly tip toed back up the stairs, and into my room. It was now 12:00. I fell back on my bed, closed my novel, and drew the covers up around me. Staring out the closed window, I said aloud, just above a whisper, "I love you Taylor". With that, I closed my eyes, and let the darkness lull me too sleep. Memories of the night filled my mind, and love filled my heart. I slept the best I'd ever slept.

Chapter 18

The next morning, sunlight kissed my cheeks and I batted my eyelashes as I woke up. It was 8:03. Hearing the sound of a familiar car, I jumped up and ran to the window. Below my window stood every last Hanson, racing about and carrying luggage out to their garage then piling into their bulky white van and hurriedly speeding out of the driveway. Two weeks won't be THAT long, I attempted to reassure myself.

*******

"Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?" I read the lines to myself before the mirror in the girl's bathroom in the 8th grade hall after lunch on Friday the next week. Amy Johnson, one of my friends at school waltzed in, listening in on my conversation with myself.

"So, Sara�I see SOMEBODY'S trying out for the part of Juliet!" I jumped, and swung me head over in her direction.

"Actually, I am! Where'd ya get that idea, Amy?!" I said, laughing sarcastically.

"Oh, well I dunno! I was actually going for it to, but I doubt I'll make it. Personally, I think it's too mushy. I mean, my only love sprung from my only hate and blah blah blah�love stories kinda get boring after awhile, but you know how I'm Mrs. Drama Queen!" she winking sarcastically, stating her own opinion.

"Oh for real? Naw, I think you've got Juliet written all over ya, Amy," I told my friend encouragingly, although I myself was dying for the part.
She continued on, earnestly complimenting me on my qualifications for the part. But I soon drifted into my own world, the world that revolved around Taylor, and love, and I Will Come to You�

"Sara? HELLO?! Anybody home?" Amy waved her hands in front of my glazed over eyes and tapped lightly on my forehead, trying to snap me out of my trance.

"Wha�huh? What'd you say?" I finally answered, blinking.

"Forget it, Sara�ya know, you better not go weird on me now, cause you sure have been acting strange this past week. You're like, in another world. I can't have you in the loony bin over the summer!" Amy commented.

"Yeah, another world, yup�when the night is dark and stormy �" I said, running my hand through my hair and checking it with in the mirror as I hummed the lyrics that were impressed upon my mind from the night in the tree house.

"Nevermind! Jeez, even geometry is more interesting than you, girl!" Amy said, throwing up her hands in disgust at my little game. She stormed out of the bathroom shaking her head and chuckling at me.

I took one last look in the mirror and said, "Sara, you'd better hope that Taylor gets back before there's tryouts cause you're brain is FRIED!" I exclaimed, shaking my finger at my reflection. Laughing at myself, I walked out of the bathroom, still humming I Will Come to You.

*******

Chapter 19

Auditions day neared closer, and as it did, I began sweating it and anticipating more and more. The only thing that actually took my mind off the day was seeing Taylor, Zac, and Ike on TV for their debut on the 5th. I was so proud of them. They seemed really relaxed and into it. I can't wait for them to come home tonight, I told myself continuously during the school day the Friday they were scheduled to come home. I had been completely out of my mind to think two weeks was indeed a short time. I had merely been ridiculing myself in assuming that given fact.

"This is a reminder�all 8th grade students enrolled in drama classes�don't forget to attend tryouts for the upcoming school production on Monday, May 11th at 3:30 in the gym! Thanks, Mrs. King." The final announcements scratched out over the loud speakers attached to the school's public address system, creating a deafening rasping sound five minutes before the bell on Friday, May 8th. I nervously sat at my desk in the front row of Mrs. Thompson's geometry class and habitually tapped my fingers on the accessively carved out oak wood tabletop.

Finally, the bell rang, and I reached down, grabbed my backpack, and eagerly ran out the classroom door, narrowly missing the influx of emancipated students that poured into the halls and flooded out the school doors. I clutched one of the shoulder straps of my backpack, and took off across the parking lot, making a short cut over the elementary school playground, and halting at a crosswalk on Tucker Avenue in front of the two adjacent schools. After the light turned red, I jogged in front of the stopped cars to the other side of the street. I headed straight down the sidewalk, past the Hanson's driveway, and slowed to a walk at my mailbox. I was just about to open the lid, when a white van turned into their driveway. They're home! I screamed inside my head, gritting my teeth so as not to shriek. I felt the urge to leap for joy. I tried to contain myself and keep it down to just a smile when the two girls waved at me, and Taylor shined a luminous smile. Zac plastered his cheek up to the window to get my attention. I just giggled, waving at him. Then I grabbed the mail, shut the mail box, and sprinted down the driveway, the contents of my back pack rattling incessantly.

"Hi dear! How was your day?" my mom questioned me as I came bursting through the garage door, swinging my bag off my shoulders and dumping it on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, it was pretty good," I said, completely forgetting about my school day and focusing on the fact that they were home. To get a better view of the activities next door, I dashed upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me, and crouching down beside my window seat and unmade bed. I leaned onto the windowsill and peered out. No sooner did they get out of the car then Mrs. Hanson assisted her three eldest sons in loading their instruments into the rear of the van, then proceeded to bound back into the vehicle, and drive off towards the city. I didn't even get to say hello. I took a deep breath and heaved it out in sorrow. With my head in my hands, a pouty look on my face, I stared out the window for a brief moment, then surveying my room, I recalled the thing that had been number one on my list of priorities for the last month. Knocking Romeo + Juliet into my lap, I picked it up, pulled my legs out from under me and stood up. It's a good idea to start memorizing if you wanna get the part, Sara, I distracted myself from my woe. Sauntering to the door, I reopened it, book in hand, and trudged back downstairs.

Chapter 20

Reentering the kitchen, I sat down at the breakfast table. My mom wiped her hands off on a kitchen towel and came and sat by me.

"So, anything new in Saraville?" my mother asked, infantily. Rolling my eyes, I shrugged it off, but my mom pursued me. "What do you have there?" she asked, pointing to the book I grasped in my hand.

"Oh, this?" I said, holding up one of Shakespeare's best known works.

"We're studying it in drama." Don't get mom excited about the play, cause it could be a pretty big let down, I advised myself, having little confidence in my abilities.

"Oooo that's my absolute favorite!" my mom cooed, clasping her hands to her heart. Great, I thought to myself, better retreat before she gets into one of her eternal "when I was your age" speeches. I looked out the window, and eyed the tree house. Peaceful, quiet�a perfect place to get immersed in the world of Shakespeare.

"Um, I'm gonna head outside. Its such a nice day," I said, getting up and pushing my chair in. My mom leaned over the table and looked out the window, eyeing the sky.

"Oh all right, whatever you say dear�" she replied, uncertainly. I took another look outside, and noticed that the sky was gray and rainclouds passed over our house. I shrugged it off, and went outside by the garage door. After walking about six paces, I reached the foot of the Sycamore, which was pining for a life-giving drink . I half hoped it would rain. It'd feel pretty cozy in the tree house, even if it does have a large open window for the rain to blow in. I guess that the elements will just add to the mood of the story.

After precariously climbing the wooden ladder steps up to the tree house, my book in my mouth, I reached the top and sat down, huddled in the far left hand corner of the small wooden room. I stretched out, my back flat on the stiff plank s. I held the book horizontally so I was staring up at the aging pre-1960's copyrighted pages. The paperback was stained with age, and the front cover missing its top right hand corner. The spine was carelessly broken, and a few pages had heinous tears at the bottoms. But it didn't detract at all from the quality of the story. I was into Juliet's c haracter from the first lines I read outloud. It was so hard to understand what she was saying the first time I had read it, but now, after hopelessly trying to interpret her poetic words, it all made sense. It wasn't that I understood it, it was more along the lines that the words pieced together as a puzzle to fit her personality. I sat up as I reached the scene where Romeo spoke his first words to Juliet.

"O dear pilgrim," I said aloud, my hands outstretched in speech, my eyes wide as though trying to get a point across. I read on, only stopping to speak the sentences that had the greatest meaning and importance to the plot. As I read, I visualized myself on stage, clearly reciting Juliet's lines, and Taylor, of course, my dashing Romeo. In truth however, I knew I'd be stuttering without a hint of embellishment on every word, and this daunted me throughout my practice session.

A raindrop fell through the window and landed on page 163, distributing itself within the fibers of the paper. I put my finger in the page and leaned my head over my shoulder, staring up at the clouds. I saw one little black rain cloud, and thought nothing of it. I got up, stretched my arms and legs a bit, and sat back down on the opposite corner, which was shielded from the wind and sprinkling rain.

"What's in a name? That which�which we call�" I read and stammered with Juliet's confusing words. I skimmed on, silently. Holding my arm out far away from my face, and read aloud, "Romeo, Romeo, where for out though Romeo?" I shook my head in disapproval. No, no, no, Sara, you've got it all wrong, I told myself. You call that emotion?! If you were on stage, nobody would be able to tell if you were summoning a pet dog, or yearning for a loved one.

The lonely rain cloud floated away on a strong wind, the wet leaves rustling with the breeze. The whispering of the leaves distracted me from my reading. I sat for a moment, staring at the roof of the tree house, vehemently day dreaming. I must have been really deep in thought, considering the fact that I didn't notice my favorite towhead running across the lawn to the foot of the ladder, his younger brother hitching a ride on his back.

"Mackie, you're not a puppy! Don't try to lick people," Taylor lightly scolded his three year old brother as he set him back on his feet at the foot of the ladder. Mac had his tongue hanging out and was on all fours, hopping around and barking. Taylor shook his head, humoring his three year old brother. "Go inside and get mom. She loves doggies," he distracted his younger sibling, and climbing the ladder, one step at a time. He had a mischievous grin on his face. Mackie perked up, and crawled back across the Hansons' yard on hands and knees, panting. Taylor hadn't noticed I was sitting there, so he was startled when he saw me.

"Oh! I didn't know you were up here! How've you been?" he asked, pulling himself up through the space in the floor boards. He sat across from me, his legs dangling out the entrance.

"Great! You guys sounded so good on the Rosie O'Donnell Show! I couldn't believe it. You looked really relaxed. I wish I could be that relaxed when it came to our school production and auditions. I mean, it's kinda hard for me to understand their speech," I replied, eyeing my book.

"Lemme see that," Taylor requested, as I handed him the book. "Mom made Ike and me learn Old English when we studied this for homeschool literature. It's pretty easy to understand once you practice," he explained.

"Really? I wish I understood it. I keep stumbling on Juliet's lines. I mean, I just don't have the special touch to pull it off," I answered, discouraged.

"Well�read me a few lines," Taylor said, thoughtfully scanning a section while turning to a random page and returning the book to me. Now's your chance, Juliet, I thought.

"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too�too early seen unknown�and known too late. Prodig�prodigious birth of love it is to me�that I must love a loath�ed enemy." I reread the lines, and became disgusted with myself. My voice shook, and I stuttered throughout the entire passage. Taylor earnestly praised me, even for such an atrocious performance. He seemed more than willing to help me orally read the literature so that I could better fathom it.

"That was fine! All you have to do is relax. That's the key. Remember? You said so yourself." Heeding his advice, I searched for another, less difficult and lengthy passage.

"Okay I'll try," I answered, handing him the book and clearing my throat, "Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo," I stated the words, not a hint of question in my monotone breath.

"Hang on�wait there!" Taylor said, quickly rising to his feet and scurrying down the ladder. At the foot of the tree he said, "Okay�NOW try it�pretend like I'm Romeo, and you don't know I'm here, but you wish I was." I giggled slightly to myself. How ironic is this? I stood up and leaned out the window of the treehouse, resting my elbows on the sill. Taylor was motionless, listening intently at the bottom of the tree. I cleared my throat, then thoughtfully twisted a wisp of dark blonde hair that had escaped the grasp of the elastic my hair was tied up with. I swallowed, staring thoughtfully at the sunset which emerged from behind the passing clouds.

"Romeo�oh Romeo�where for art thou Romeo?" The words flowed so smoothly. I continued, speaking of the word Montague in a pensive tone as did Juliet. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." My own mellow voice followed every syllable and gave each its second of glory. A few pauses added to the emotion of the passage and I let the sound of my voice reverberate inside the damp tree house. Yet my voice hadn't stood alone. As I had been reciting Juliet's lines, I had heard Taylor whispering quietly to himself the words of Romeo-"Did I love til now for sweared sight�I have never seen true beauty til this night." I had caught him gazing up at me once when I glanced down. He seemed to be genuinely impressed. I was proud that I had finally learned the dialogue and enjoyed acting it out, since I had always known I was interested in being an actress. Drama had always been on my checklist of high school credits. But just to grasp the literary work was enough for me.

"Wow�that was, well, beautiful�" he told me after climbing back up the ladder, curiously tilting his head and looking deep into my eyes. I, too, searched his eyes, but then noticed I was staring, and blushed a little bit. But not one to be embarrassed easily, I straightened up.

"Thanks." I replied. There was a deep silence. The grass rustled and Zac appeared below.

"Sara thee art thy beatifulest!" Zac said, kneeling on one knee below, looking through the window of the tree house and reciting his own fake lines, imitating Taylor and my own rehearsal, aiming to aggravate his brother.

Ha, I wish I was, I mused inside my head. I've never held my appearance with great esteem, and thought there was no hope for the ugly duckling I saw whenever looking in the mirror. Yet whenever Taylor was on my mind, my self-confidence became second priority. However, if Shakespeare's words were indeed correct, and "Young men's love lies not in the heart, but in the eyes," my uneasy mind told me I was doomed. My mood changed as Taylor sneered at the quirky eleven year old, gesturing and holding up his fist.

"Man you're DEAD!" he said to Zac. He quickly changed the subject to distract Taylor.

"Hey Tay, mom says it's time to come in for dinner," Zac reported. "Its YOUR turn to set the table!!! Hahaha, the amazing super Zacman strikes again!" he cackled, leaping and bounding around the lawn triumphantly.

"Be right down, Prozac," Taylor replied.

"Hee hee hee�.VERRRRY funny, Einstein," Zac replied, and ran inside.

"Just remember, if you miss the part, it's not the end of the world. Good luck. Later!" Taylor said, crawling down through the space, down to the sixth step off the ground, and leaping from there. He jogged inside.

"Bye!!!" I called, waving out the window. I looked down at my book.

I felt a whole new air of confidence now. I sighed, taking one last look at the setting sun, which was just about to retire below the level Oklahoma horizon. My mom knocked on the inside of the kitchen window, and pointed to the dinner table. I acknowledged, closing my book, slipping it into the back pocket of my wide leg carpenter jeans, and climbed down the ladder. I slowly walked inside, reciting a few of Juliet's lines quite fluently. Now I can't wait until auditions.

Chapter 21

Okay, relax, do just as Taylor told you. No sweat, yeah that's it. It's not the end of the world�you'll only mess up your future!! I screamed at myself silently inside my head, wringing my hands frustratingly as I paced nervously back stage, awaiting my turn to give it my all.

"Sara Williams?!" Mrs. King, the drama teacher's, voice echoed inside the closed gym, reverberating off all but the two basketball goals, shattering all that it touched. Amy passed me confidently, and patted me on the back.

"No sweat, Sara. Just get up there and�um�talk like Juliet!" she enthused. I shook my head in agreement and glared up at the back stage ceiling of the school auditorium.

"Uh�Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I will wait to say goodnight�wait�" I stammered while reading my most familiar lines aloud.

"NEXT PLEASE�" the drama teacher called a final time. I knew it was my cue, but I couldn't bring myself to step out on stage. You know you have stage fright, Sara�I informed myself. The girl who had preceded me came back stage beaming as I walked on. I have NO chance, I told myself.

"Good luck Sara!" Amy whispered, giving me a confident thumbs up, practically pushing me onto the stage, as I was unwilling to allow myself to go. I smiled a slight smile. Breathe, I told myself, lifting my shoulders. I approached the microphone, waiting for the drama teacher's assignment.

"Hmm�AH YES! This one will do quite nicely," she said, raising her copy of the play to my eye level and pointer to her ideal passage. She flashed me a triumphant grin as I scanned it. I returned her grin after recognizing the passage I had mastered with Taylor. I raised the microphone slightly, and breathed the passage into it. I wrung my hands and searched the empty audience as though I was seeking Romeo himself. But Taylor was not to be found. I seemed at a loss for words. It's him. You need to feel his presence to express the true emotions Juliet felt, I realized, horrified. After completing the lines, I turned my focus to the drama teacher who sat below in the front row, her legs crossed, arms folded, slight crinkles lining her aged lips that gave the hint of satisfaction. Yet it too disappeared. She shook her head in agreement as she opened her small spiral notebook, pen in hand, and announced a quiet "Thank you", a mere nod of the head to go along with it. My jaw dropped, and I forced my feet to direct me off the stage. As I did so, Amy was called. I immediately felt awful when I couldn't find it in my broken hearted self to wish her good luck. She jogged out on stage as I wrapped myself in the folds of the theater curtains, tugging at it lightly. Intently, I focused on my friend as she spoke the words I had been instructed to speak. Her voice carried itself with ease through the whole theater.

"My only love sprung for my only hate!!" she cried out. Standing in the safe confines of the heavy red stage curtain's folds, I found myself speechless, and in awe of my friend's abilities, yet slightly jealous, knowing in the back of my head that she was performing far better than I had.

When I least expected it, I felt a pair of hands set down on my shoulders, and I gasped, turning around hurriedly. Expecting to see a classmate or parent, I was startled when I was met face to face with those angelic blue eyes.

Taylor�Taylor�the name sweetened as it whirled inside my head. Suddenly my fears of insufficiency were lifted. He didn't speak a word, but instead, he shifted his hands as I turned so they remained on my shoulders. He was concealed simply by sunglasses, a black baseball cap, and a leather jacket to disguise his identity from the local adoring fans. I couldn't believe he'd risked being mobbed just to visit me at school. He immediately read the look of disappointment from deep within me. He must have heard my audition, I concluded, horrified that he could've thought me to be a failure. Yet instead of speaking a word of my performance, he reached both arms around me and gingerly squeezed my shoulders, as if to say, "Don't worry".

"Hey," I breathed when he released me.

"Hey. Listen, it's no big deal, ya know, if ya don't get the part�" his voice drifted off when my attention shifted to Amy, who stood on stage, grinning uncontrollably.

"She got it," I uttered to myself, a blank stare smeared onto my disbelieving face. Just one week earlier, I had been positive I would seize the part. Taylor looked on over my shoulder.

I strained, listening in to the conversation between student and teacher.

"What does your day look like everyday after school around 4:30?" Mrs. King asked Amy.

"Oh, I'm absolutely free!" she answered, her interest piqued. "Why do you ask that?" she questioned, as though she hadn't a clue what came next. However, I understood her need to confirm it for herself. After all, it was the most sought after part in the play.

"Well, if you're going to be Juliet, you certainly must attend practice!" the drama teacher answered matter-of-factly. Amy celebrated on stage a moment, then ran off, wildly charging for me in a fit of excitement.

"Did you hear? Did you hear? Oh, hey Taylor!" Amy screeched. I had introduced her to my best friend years ago.

"SHH!" Taylor and I shooshed her in unison, our index fingers to our lips. Taylor was a well known word around Jenks Middle School, and no one was in the mood to be attacked.

"Congratulations," I said, half heartedly, plastering a smile onto my face.

"Oh man, sorry, I�" she said, shrugging, looking down at her feet, remorseful for her exhilarating celebration, which had only offended me slightly.

"Oh don't worry about it. Just have fun!" I said, picking myself up and giving my friend a high five before she grabbed her book bag and ran out the auditorium and headed for the school's front door, without so much as a goodbye.

"Well, that's Amy for ya," Taylor muttered under his breath, pointing with his thumb towards the door and rolling his eyes. I chuckled, then picked up my bookbag as we walked toward the door and on home.

Taylor offered to walk me to my door. I invited him in, and he accepted with a smile.

"We're in here, Sara," my mom's voice called from the living room. "Who's we?" I mouthed to Taylor quizzically. Shrugging off my question, we jogged into the living room. There, on the couch, sat Mrs. Hanson and my mom, sipping tea a nd talking about travels.

"Hey mom," we greeted each parent.

"Guess what Sara?" my mom asked me in an overjoyed tone.

"I dunno�" I answered, thinking that this news would be trivial.

"Well, Taylor's mom and I," she explained, halting briefly to acknowledge Taylor, "we were discussing how in about a month, after school ends for you two, Taylor, Mrs. Hanson, and the rest of the clan is headed to Europe. You see, it turns out that your father has business with a consultant in Paris around the same time frame. So we thought�" my mom was unable to finish her sentence, because I didn't hesitate to go absolutely crazy upon hearing the news. I danced about the room shouting gleefully. Taylor did the same, and for a moment, we thought that all our clangor would cause the house to come crashing down to its foundation. We high fived each other, bounding across the hard wood floor. All that time lost is just gonna be forgotten�I'll have, oh who knows, weeks�even MONTHS to spend time with Taylor and catch up! And in Europe, too!!!

Upon Taylor's suggestion of packing early for the joint trip, he dragged his mother out the door. After waving goodbye briefly, I vaulted up the stairs and exploded through the door to my room, ecstatic, joyfully switching on my CD player and blasting Where's the Love. I leaped up on my bed and began hopping along with the chorus, the creak of my worn mattress springs in time with the rhythm. The lyrics filled the house, as did my own new found incentive to be happy. I can't wait. A month. Thirty days. Why not tomorrow? I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin in gratification. I was so excited that the events that occurred at auditions faded and eventually were expelled from my memory. Suddenly, Romeo + Juliet was only a play, a play that I hadn't been cast in due to nervousness. A play that had been for quite sometime my escape voucher for not having a tangible relationship with Taylor. That was all.

I ran to my closet, striking out to every hanger and stringing countless shirts about my room as if they were garland on a Christmas tree. Yanking my old, dust strewn suit case from its tomb in the very back of my closet, I very prematurely began to stuff clothes for the future trip into the awaiting bag.

*******

Chapter 22

"The Captain has turned off the fasten seat belt sign, indicating your freedom to move about the cabin as you please. Thank you," the monotone voice filtered through the speaker, harshly awakening me from a deep sleep I had fallen into after taking off for Paris from Atlanta International Airport at 5:00 a.m. Drowsily, I looked about me, taking note of the seats in front of me with their red, white, and blue threaded, repeating triangular patterns, and series of buttons that hung on the low ceiling above my head. There was a light switch, an air conditioning vent, and a button in which one could call a flight attendant to assist you. Upon seeing this, I recalled where I was, and smiled intently, knowing I was in the safe confines of the first class cabin of a Delta 747.

"Hey, mom?" I whispered, hesitating to ask a question, but without a reply, I continued. "So�are we there yet?" I teased, a typical annoyance all parents had faced at one time or another. I snickered to myself, but went silent when the reply of the person next to me, on whose shoulder I was resting my head, was not that of my mother.

"Nope, Sar, we're not," Taylor answered, looking up from his Rolling Stone magazine for a moment, glancing down at the head wearily nuzzled on his shoulder. I jolted it away, my complexion modifying itself from beige to crimson.

"Oh, man, well, I thought," I said, stuttering helplessly, trying to explain my actions for fear of impending embarrassment.

"No problem. You just sorta fell asleep, I mean, you've been out for, like, two hours," he answered, raising his watch.

"Okay�so how long is it, really?"

"I'm thinking about, seven hours. We'll get in at about 12:00 p.m. Paris time tomorrow."

"Yuck! How are we gonna get any sleep?" I asked, hurtling my head back to the headrest of my seat dramatically at the thought of not sleeping in on a Saturday.

"You, me, and all the rest of the guys are all just gonna get a chance to catch up on sleep tomorrow if we don't here on the plane. We'll be off tomorrow, so I guess it'd be cool to sleep all day�" Taylor suggested, relishing at the thought.

"I don't think so, son�you guys are gonna hafta drag yourselves outta bed if you expect to get any food! Mom and I have made reservations at a really up style French restaurant for 7:30 at night, and we're not giving them up just because you guy's are lazy," Mr. Hanson interjected from behind us.

"Oh goodie�snails�yum yum!" Ike exclaimed from the other side of Taylor, throwing his head on to his hand, playfully pouting. Across the aisle from me, Zac said, "Can't we just order a pizza?"

"Oooo snails�can I have a pet snail, mommy?" Mackie cried out delightedly from the other side of his older eleven year old brother.

"I don't think so, Mackie," Mrs. Hanson replied.

"I like snails!" Avie announced loudly, at a loud enough decibel range that I was sure that the whole 747 full of people could hear her.

"Eww that's icky," Jessica told her, sticking out her tongue in disapproval. I looked at Taylor with disbelieving eyes.

"Hey, they're family, can't live with em, can't sing without em," he provided his own explanation jokingly. I nodded my head in agreement, then looked behind me, searching for my parents. I found them, both asleep on the row parallel to Mr. Hanson and his two daughters. Looking out the window past Ike, I reflected upon the beautiful hues that drifted through the atmosphere as the sun set, then settled myself in, this time leaning my head on my opposite hand rather than Taylor's shoulder. I decided it'd be a wise choice to go back to sleep to pass the time. Seven hours on the plane isn't necessarily my cup of tea, but hey, look at your company, I thought, my eyes shifting to Taylor, who's attention was focused on a newly produced sketch pad onto which he etched a cartoon scenery complete with a smiling sun. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and dozed off once again.

*******

Chapter 23

"Okay�almost�got it�there! Welcome to room number 242! Your home for the next few weeks!" Walker announced proudly, after opening the door to his family's room. A crowd of children below five feet tall raced through the door, attacking the freshly made beds. Rubbing my eyes, I followed, dragging my suitcase behind me reluctantly, after removing it from the bell man's brass cart. The whole hotel, Les Chateau, as it was called, struck me as being laden in gold and resident to thousands of extremely wealthy guests. It abounded with mahogany and intricate marble tiles which were the color of pearls. Not to mention the freshly cut bouquets which permeated the entire hotel with a delectable aroma. The food, no doubt, was the same way, and as I plopped myself down in a hideous mauve velour chair by the heavily curtained with tapestry window, I skimmed through the room service menu, which was chiefly in the French language. I did, however, understand the word caviar. Blech! I hope the food at the restaurant tonight is as appetizing as this! I exclaimed to myself, disgustedly slamming shut the leather portfolio that contained all the guest information anyone could ever require. Determined to keep a positive attitude throughout the entire trip, I got up and found my way to the bathroom, and gasped at the thousands of tiny soaps that trimmed every nook and cranny.

"Hey Zac, think I found some new additions to your collection," I commented, my eyes still searching for the countless other bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and scented bath soaps. Zac bounded into the bathroom, scooping up a few of the bottles and dumping them over his head.

"Rich! I'm rich, I tell you!" he said, cackling, as he showered himself with the tiny bottles. They rained down upon him in a torrent, which he didn't expect, and as they struck him on the head one by one, he let out little yelps. I shook my head, humoring Zac, and left the bathroom, bumping into my mom.

"Here, Sara, our room's over there," she directed, placing one piece of baggage down for a moment and pointing to a white door across from the bathroom.

"Oh, okay," I replied, retrieving my suit case from across the bedroom, and opening the door only to reveal yet another door, one which was locked.

"Here, take the key," my father said, tossing it to me from over his shoulder as he took in the view from the Hansons' room's window, focusing on his conversation with Walker, addressing me briefly.

"Thanks," I called as I turned the key in the polished doorknob that lead to our room. As soon as the door swung open, I was greeted by the most embellished decorating job I had ever witnessed. Two queen sized beds rested side by side, divided by a quaint nightstand with a delicate lamp in the middle of the room, resting on hand carved antique finished oak head boards and trimmed with a sophisticated dark floral comforter. The carpet was hunter green and coordinated with the curtains that draped loosely over the window. The bathroom was much like the bathroom in the other room and was adjacent to a mirrored walk in closet. I dropped my bag inside the door and then waltzed over to the bed. I then proceeded to dramatically sail back and limply sprawl myself out on the comforter, taking note of a television encased in an antique oak wall unit that had doors on facing me.

"COOL! Nintendo!" Mackie screeched from the other room. I lifted my head just enough to see through the door. I heard the pounding of feet as all the Hanson kids rushed to the TV in their room and set up the game system. Taylor, on the other hand, staggered into my room, rubbing his eyes and yawning perpetually. He stumbled and toppled over onto the bed neighboring mine, face down into the sheets. After seeing he was comfortable and was truly fast asleep, I rolled over and inched up towards the pillow, throwing my head down upon it. Before actually falling asleep, I heard my mother whisper, "�they should get some rest�" to my father, then go into the Hansons' room, shutting the door behind them. All was silent and serene, and the only audible sound was that of Taylor as he breathed deeply into the comforter.

*******

Chapter 24

"Hey�sleeping beauty�c'mon, Tay, wake up man!" Zac's shrill whispers to Taylor were evidently not hushed well enough, since I awoke before his brother did. Opening one eye, I looked around. Since I had fallen asleep, the early afternoon daytime had turned to dusk, and the sun was fast setting. Whoa�must've slept forever, I thought to myself in disbelief. Can't be sunset already.

"Go away, Zac," Taylor reprimanded his little brother as he took his pillow and smothered his own head beneath it.

"Ooo aren't we just Mr. Sunshine," Zac commented snidely as he left the room. After blowing off some steam, Taylor removed the pillow, blinked a few times, then rolled over and turned towards me on the opposite bed.

"You awake?" he asked me, squinting.

"Mmm hmm," I mumbled, yawning. "What time is it?"

"It's, ah, 6:56. 6:56!! Man, we only have half an hour until dinner!" Taylor said, abruptly flinging himself off the bed and dashing for the other room. I lifted myself up, making a b-line for the closet, taking a moment to scratch my head, then waver into the bathroom.

After taking an expedient shower, I blew my long locks dry, making sure each strand was sufficiently arid and curled to frame my face. Then I slipped into my long, sleeveless, burgundy, velvet dress. I adjusted it to the best of my ability on my frame, observing it for an instant in the fogged bathroom mirror. I sneered at my reflection disdainfully, the negative attitude I tend to regard myself with. I let out a sigh of defeat, as I was unsatisfied with my own appearance, and sure that Taylor wouldn't find me attractive. Never the less, I sauntered out of the bathroom and walked to the closet to collect my three strap black patent leather platforms. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I proceeded to place them onto my feet. The clock on the night stand read 7:23. I'm on time�for once, I mused, locking my arms behind me and leaning back, exhaling deeply in relief that I had finished so early.

Three light raps commencing at the dividing door distracted me. I got up, strolling over to it, where I advanced to reach for the handle and swing the door open. I was met by an inexplicable sight. Taylor stood before me, his hand frozen in mid air, as he was preparing to knock on the door again but was interrupted. Immobily, we both stood in an awkward stance, my eyes scanning him approvingly. He wore gray pinstripe pants that halted at his feet, which were encased in a pair of black Doc Martens. His black shirt was lax and modest, his leather chokers gracing his neck. He looked incredibly handsome. What a dreamboat, I agreed with myself.

"You�you look great," he told me aesthetically, his eyes wide. Huh? My mind was unable to comprehend what it was he had just said. I look great?

"So do you," I said inarticulately, my face flushed.

"C'mon guys let's go!" Diana's voice called from the Hansons' room as she motioned for us to follow her. I followed Taylor through the door, a smile beaming across my face as we exited and headed for the lobby.

Chapter 25

"Reservations�Hanson," Walker declared to the host at the French restaurant as we made our somewhat grand entrance. Mackie, Jessie, and Avie were no where to be seen, since their parents had opted to keep them at the hotel under the boys' body guard's watchful eye.

"Ah ha! This way please," the host proclaimed after scanning down the guest list with his index finger then sorting through a sizable stack of menus, removing eight from the pile and directing us to follow him to our seats. Taylor motioned for me to walk ahead of him in a very gentlemanly manner, and I accepted, stepping warily on my heels as we entered the main dinning hall. I took note of the meticulous decorations that enhanced and counterbalanced the dark, candlelit room. Each table was laden with crystal glasses, crisp white table clothes, and intricate imported china.

I pulled out my elaborately embroidered chair from under the spherical table just in time for one of many waiters and waitresses standing beside the table to lunge out and snatch it away from me, generously offering to assist me in pushing the chair in.

"Oh�uh thanks," I hesitated as I took my seat.

"You are welcome ma'dam," the waiter said stiffly, nodding his head graciously. Ma'dam�I could get used to this! I negotiated to myself, grinning mischievously. Taylor took his seat next to me as I silently celebrated. My mother and father sat to my left and Zac, Ike, and their parents filled in around the table.

"Enjoy your meal," the host announced with a slight bow as he returned to the podium at the door to greet other guests.

"Un du twa�" Zac counted on his fingers in French. Ike looked at him questioningly and asked,

"Zac, what are you trying to do?"

"Count. In French. I wanna know if the Chateau Brion comes with two or three seasonings. By the way, what is Chateau Brion?" Zac explained, then implored his older brother.

"Steak," Ike answered simply.

"Oh, allrighty then!" Zac jested. Then he lifted what he thought to be his water glass and took a long thirst quenching drink. When coming up for air, he clutched his throat and stuck out his tongue, gagging, disgusted at the mystery beverage.

"Ew! What is that stuff?"

"That would be my gin and tonic," my father answered in a slightly perturbed manner.

"Yuck," Zac interjected with a shudder, yearning for his insipid glass of water. Then let out a sudden cry of pain and grimaced as Mrs. Hanson kicked her indomitable son, a signal to "behave or else". Zac immediately straightened up, his mouth shut tightly although his leg was still aching.

The whole meal resembled a farce as my parent's and Taylor's parent's drank their plenty of champagne and crassly burst out laughing intermittently. It created much bedlam as our parents proposed countless toasts and crassly pounded the table in fits of laughter. I sat, poised in my seat and politely consuming the hors d'oeuvres and later on dicing my Veal Marsala and immaculately savoring my main course.

"I think they just might be drunk," Taylor whispered into my ear between our parent's flagrant, fluctuating outbursts and howling laughter. All eyes were on our table. I received many disturbing glances from other guests.

"Eh HEM!" our waiter interjected between our parent's disturbingly loud conversation. "Would any of you be interested in desert? Perhaps a check?" he suggested.

"Mmm�how bout desert!" Zac replied eagerly, greedily rubbing his palms together. The waiter disapprovingly agreed to Zac's request, shaking his head at our parent's uncommendable behavior.

"I'll have another one of these," my mother said to the waiter, her words slurred as she lifted her wine glass and shoved it under the waiter's nose rudely. The waiter did not appease her request, knowing she was already too drunk to walk straight. Ike put his head in his hands, disbelieving the raucous situation. I glared at my mother angrily. She turned away, speaking to Diana, who one would think would know better than to get herself drunk rather than maintaining her composure, especially in such a formal restaurant.

After looking over the desert menu, I decided nothing looked that interesting, and I was already too embarrassed to eat, for fear my parents might cause an even great commotion as the wine flowed freely. Surprisingly, Taylor felt the same, so we decided that it would be prudent to retreat from the restaurant and walk back to the hotel. Ike and Zac had their eyes on a chocolate confection on the desert menu, so they elected to stay behind.

"Besides, I think our parents need some baby-sitting," Ike explained as Taylor and I got up from our chairs. Our parents were so busy acting rowdy that they didn't notice our absence.

"Leaving so soon, sir?" the host asked Taylor, seemingly delighted, yet trying to hide his exultation that a section of the party at table eleven was leaving.

"Oh, I'm sorry about them, they've never done this before, especially in a place like this�" Taylor apologized, admiring the surroundings.

"Not a problem, sir. Now you two run along and have fun!" he bid us farewell, a sudden change in attitude.

"Thanks, you too, and uh, make sure our parents don't do anything weird," Taylor advised as we exited.

"Merci!" the host called after us, as relieved, we left the restaurant and started for the hotel.

Chapter 26

Taylor and I meandered about the sidewalk under the blinding white hot moonlight, arms swinging in syncronocy, barely brushing against each other. It sent a stunning sensation of icy chills down my spine. I was a little bit disappointed when we reached Les Chateau, marking the end of our little stroll. Immediately as we entered through the breathtaking brass doorways and into the crystal adorned corridor, the mater d greeted us, beaming.

"Back so soon Mr. Hanson?" he asked Taylor, bearing a heavy British accent. He nodded in reply, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Inconspicuously, we ambled towards the elevator hall at the right. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Taylor was fumbling through his pockets, a blank look on his face. He halted, and shook his head, seemingly disgusted with himself.

"Man, I forgot the keys at the restaurant! I'm sorry," he said, over apologetically regarding his inadvertent action.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I said, secretly thanking my lucky stars that we didn't have to simply curtail our time together and call it a night, retiring to our separate rooms, this being the only night we'd be alone. He stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. I bit my lip, unable to look Taylor directly in the eye, knowing my fate for this action would be mean complete embarrassment.

"So�we can't just stand here, how about we go for a walk around? It's really nice out," he proposed. Sure, we had just done that, but if it meant more time together before he and Zac and Ike all had to devote the next week to filming the Where's the Love video and touring Europe, I'd graciously accept.

"Sounds fine to me," I answered. We turned and walked back out the corridor. This time the mater d kept quiet, busying himself with reservations behind the mahogany front desk.

As we reached the curb and prepared to cross the street, which abounded with black taxis, limos and such, Taylor outstretched his arm back to me and delicately clutched my hand in his. My hand instantly lost all its feeling and my fingers went numb. I puppy dogged him, and let him guide me across the street to the opposite sidewalk. I assumed he'd release my hand when we finished crossing, yet to my astonishment, he held on. We walked at a comfortably lagging pace as though we could slow down time with our swinging stride.

"You wanna sit down over there?" Taylor suggested to me in a rich, mesmerizing tone of voice.

"Sure," I responded simply, nodding my head in acceptance. We headed for the nearest quiet spot past the hotel's entrance that was apparently part of the intricate, attractive grounds. It consisted of a newly painted black iron bench placed beyond a simple cement sculpture that served as a fountain for crystal clear water. Flowers embellished the two decorative pieces on all sides, and a few young shade trees with thin trunks rooted themselves among the alluring landscape. We both altered our paths simultaneously and tip toed across the freshly cut lush green lawn which made a soft rustling sound as our shoes bristled against the blades. Cautiously, we lowered ourselves down to a sitting position on the sturdy iron bench, our palms detaching from one another.

Distracting myself from the unrelenting silence between us, my eyes shifted to the elaborate map of glimmering stars that hung above our heads, scattered throughout the rippling black sea of eminently clear night sky. I examined each fascinating region of the atmosphere, losing myself and my thoughts in the complex connect the dots type puzzle above, rather than focusing on Taylor for fear I would tense up and ruin the conducive atmosphere.

Taylor drew in a deep breath and prepared himself to speak. My attention rapidly drained from my star gazing and zeroed in on the person at my side.

"Have you ever cared about someone so much that you'd do anything to be with them?" he asked me, scuffling his feet and disturbing the rigid blades of grass under the soles of his shoes. I lowered my head, giving my undivided attention to Taylor. I couldn't care less for the stars at that frame of time. It had been eons since he and I had had time to sit and chat and ask questions regarding every topic under the sun. This one, however, seemed to be much more profound than all the others in the past. I hid behind a handful of dark blonde hair, only revealing my face a millisecond to briefly perceive his mood as his eyes wandered off in the distance over the horizon. He appeared to be eternally lost in thought.

"Uh huh," I answered, murmuring under my breath as so he wouldn't hear. I didn't want to bring up my feelings for him when he obviously felt the same way about somebody else, enough so he could talk to me about it. I was quite thankful that at least he felt comfortable around me again and we were friendly with each other, not just the mere acquaintances we had once been during the spring.

He continued, "It's like you're gonna explode when you're with them, but you just can't seem to get your feelings across?" he narrowed his eyes, gesturing with both hands reflectively.

"Tell me about it," I stressed, rolling my eyes. He knows me too well, yet at the same time he doesn't know me enough and is barred from getting inside my head and witnessing my emotions. Namely my love for him, I concluded.

Without warning, Taylor deliberately shifted his body on the bench so he was directly facing me. I fantasized that he was examining all aspects of my face dreamily as I do to him whenever given the chance. I scolded myself for even attempting to believe that he had the same feelings for me that I had for him. I glanced over at him quickly, trying not to notice that his beautiful robin's egg blue eyes were indeed watching and taking note of my every move. I sighed, inhaling the refreshing air and closing my eyes, shading them with heavy eyelids, and absorbing the balmy atmosphere and occasional mild breezes that exhaled among the green leaves of the few protective branches on the perimeter.

I batted my eyelashes open when to my surprise, I detected a warm, soothing hand stroke and caress the curve of my jaw and brush sweetly down my flaming cheek, and with utmost care, tracing back up towards my hairline. Taylor's comforting, skilled fingers fragily ran through the full length of my hair and finally came to a precise halt returning to the back of my neck. Readily, I turned and neared myself to him in all his youthful masculine glory. His hair was pulled back and set in a bushel between his shoulder blades, except for a shorter blonde wisp that persistently blew across his face in a chilled stray wind. I painstakingly moved it aside and behind his tender ear with two digits. I lovingly searched his eyes, trying to understand what possessed him to act in such an affectionate manner in which only I believed that I was capable of feeling in our friendly relationship. Yet as I sought an answer for his pleasantly surprising actions, I felt him brush my neck with his thumb. He was anxiously awaiting a token of fondness in return.

I faintly slid my hand from Taylor's ear and ran each finger down his neck, detecting his quickened pulse and his heaven sent vocal cords which gave him such a lovely singing voice. I guided my palm down and let I settle at his tensed shoulder. With a new sense of bravery, Taylor leaned ever so slightly nearer to me until his luscious candied apple lips just barely reached mine. I could feel each streamy breath he took that heated the cooler evening air. Inhaling one last time, he closed his eyes, as did I. I craned my neck, closing the minute gap between our quivering lips. They locked, an explosion of emotions erupting instantly from within. It was pure indescribable magic. Taylor pivoted his head a bit, our lips still pressed. Heaven was on Earth, and I felt as though I was in paradise. We sat in the garden, poised on the cold iron bench, kissing for what seemed like an eternity when it was merely a matter of minutes. I wanted the feeling to last always, yet our hallucinating parents were bound to return any moment and we'd risk a great deal of embarrassment if we didn't subdue our feelings of devotion. Emphatically, I pulled my head back. Taylor, still, caught up in the moment held on desperately, still leaning towards me with longing. He didn't care to let go, and neither did I. I made concession to the fact that we were both still caught up in one another, and I accepted his invitation to hold on for a bit longer. Seeing that I was in great need of oxygen, I took my hand and lifted it back up to his cheek, signaling my own release. Our lips drifted apart eventually and separated. I sat back, inhaling a deep breath and opening my eyes.

Taylor, almost a blur in my stunned, watery eyes, was still holding onto the kiss, his eyes still unopened. Finally, he turned back around, and we sat as we had before. I was speechless. So touched by the moment and yet so doubting that I couldn't say one word. Instead, I stared down at my lap, my fingers feverishly tapping on my thigh. I began to shiver slightly, but not out of nervousness. Taylor noticed my shuddering, and undisturbingly he removed his black leather jacket and slipped it over my shoulders, then lifted his arm and protectively wrapped it around my back so that his hand lay on my opposite shoulder. I moved closer to him, not an inch between us now. I sighed contentedly. However, an irking, question resulting from my own insecurities churned within my mind. I drew in a breath of air and opened my mouth to question Taylor, then thought better of it. He sensed that I had a feeling of unresolve.

"Were you gonna say something?" he asked curiously, turning his head in my direction.

"Well, I mean, I was just wondering�about what you said before�who is it you feel that way about?" Tediously I awaited his reply. Instead of choosing speech, he twisted his neck and silently pecked me on the cheek.

"I think you know, Sara," he whispered captivatingly into my ear. My eyes lit up at this suggestion. Am I dreaming? He can't possibly mean what I think he's implying, I assured silently in my mind. My mind tossed and fought these questions. Then I told myself, look, with a kiss like that you KNOW he means it. Accept it, Sara. Love doesn't come easy. After a moment of hesitation, I did what I had for so long been afraid to do.

"I love you Taylor," I stated clearly and sincerely. I lay my head down on his shoulder in adoration. I expected him to take my comment as being a playful friendly gesture, when it was truly far deeper than that. He glanced down, studying the look of satisfaction and loyalty on my face. I stared back, telling him all he needed to know in one yearning exchange. What he discovered pleased him immensely. He turned and faced forward again, setting his head over mine.

"I love you too Sara. I'm so happy we can finally be together," he replied. I took note of the genuine heart felt tone of voice he used. He meant it. He just professed his love to me. He loves me. He shares the same love that I've kept harnessed so long. I nestled my head on his shoulder, an unfamiliar feeling of fulfillment coming over me. I took a deep breathe; a sigh of joy. It was beyond my grasp how everything could have so quickly fallen into place, not one mishap in the lot. I felt complete, as a whole once again, and then some.

The word finally ran through my head. Finally I had done what I now realized that I should have done six months ago. Finally I had spoken to Taylor. Finally I had overcome my apprehension. Finally we were together. It was as if my heart was shaking its finger at my timid mind which had kept me from being undaunted and displaying my love. Instead I had chosen to invalidate my feelings and lock them away, glutton to my low self-confidence and self brought punishment. But now, it s eems our destiny lingers, shielded and safely tucked in each other's arms.

*******

Chapter 27

I watched as the bitterly chilled frostbitten air withheld ambling crystals, previously emancipated from several encumbered snow clouds. In awe, I gazed; how gracefully they sailed on their journey to the sea of snow flakes, rejoicing at a gr eat reunion with the countless numbers that formed a protective white tarp over the earth below. Contentedly, I settled upon a couple of rose colored pillows that garnished my beloved window seat. Leaning back against the wall which encased the window, I tilted my neck so that my forehead set upon the frigid panes. With each satisfied joyful sigh I heaved, a puff of steam was let out and pasted itself upon the window, making a nearly transparent cloud of fog before my eyes.

Not one solitary object on the ground beneath the exterior of my window remained untouched. All that resided out of doors was heavily blanketed in a sheet of powdery snow. Although the air was harsh outside, and was enough to place a damper on anyone's merry spirit, I felt a warmth from deep within my heart that radiated throughout my body, giving me a sense of fulfillment. Never during the fourteen years of my life had I seen a white Christmas here in Tulsa. I grinned outside at the world, my cheerfulness overflowing. This year was rapidly drawing to a close, marking perhaps the most confusing and heart wrenching year of my life. But it certainly had its redeeming qualities. My heart was now sewn, patched and cured by my one true love, Taylor. Closing my eyes happily, his gorgeous face smiled back as its permanent imprint flashed before my view. Thoughts of love danced through my head.

I was awakened from my quiet, reflective state with a start when a gentle scratching sound emerged from the direction of my bedroom door. It repeated itself twice before I raised an eyebrow, debating whether or not to investigate the sound. I swung my legs over the side of my window seat after the fifth tap commenced. Huh? Santa's a little early, don't ya think? I chuckled to myself, after creating a counterfeit source of the grating noise, which was starting to bother me quite a bit.

All at once, the bothersome sound morphed to the sound of somebody knocking on my closed door. I hopped to me feet and skipped over towards it. Clasping the doorknob in the palm of my hand, I twisted the brass fixture and flung the door wide open. I had expected to see perhaps my mother carrying up some laundry or something of that matter. Instead, the apparition that was the source of all my love and that I had just been day dreaming of stood in the doorway, a hammer at his feet, a bright red Santa hat settled upon his blonde hair. He was grinning ear to ear as he motioned with his index finger, notifying me to look above my head. There, hanging quaintly from the frame of my door on a thin nail halfway driven into the wood, dangled a sprig of evergreen tinted mistletoe, bound together by a sloppily tied gold ribbon. I chortled first at Taylor's novelty Santa Claus hat, but when I perceived the green plant, and saw the look of affectionate mischief in Taylor's eyes, I immediately stepped forward, nearing myself to him. Playfully, I reached up and flicked the white cotton ball that was attached to the tip of his hat. His eyes strained upward towards the hat without moving his head. He beamed, a bright, toothy smile covering his cherubic face. Then, he lifted his own hand and lightly seized mine away from his hat, bringing it down by our sides. I then brought them both up towards my rosy cheek, setting them down, then wriggling mine out from underneath his. I then placed it over his, stroking it fondly. He reached the other up, cupping my face in each warm, soothing hand. I slipped my arm under his and set my hand over his shoulder. Stretching his neck so that we were standing face to face, our lips touched for an instant, then we wrapped our arms around each other in a binding embrace.

"Merry Christmas Sar," Taylor proclaimed to me, his voice slightly muffled due to the fact this his face was buried dotingly in my neck as he nuzzled my skin with his nose.

"Merry Christmas, Tayles. It wouldn't be Christmas without you!" I told him, as we stood motionless in the doorway under the mistletoe, Christmas carols floating up the stairs. The sights and smells of pine needles and ham roasting in the oven overflowed and spun within my head. My heart, however, was flooded by a thousand loving emotions which sprung forth, transporting the feelings through my arms, generating love on the other side of my embrace. Taylor received these emotions well, and returned them.

Our relationship has definitely changed, I spoke to myself. There's no question it's a change for the better, though. Change is a frightening prospect. It's simple to dream of what it could be like after a change. But having the courage to actually face it and take action on your dreams with determination is an extremely difficult task. In my situation, I had sat back and waited for it to come to me when I could have saved a lot of time by just encompassing my own destiny. I spent more time wishing that things could be better rather than making them better, and these thoughts encumbered me the more I thought about it and debased my character.

Frequently, I think back at all that time I wasted away, entangled in my own loneliness and misery, gloating constantly. Yes, I have regrets, but they're shaded at this moment on account of the fact that I'd finally gotten past all that. No longer would I have nothing but fond, far away memories and time to whittle away by fruitlessly planning the future. Taylor and I are living in the future I had wished for so many times, I concluded. New memories have yet to be made, but now that I'm here, I'm sure there are many to come. I guess life is like that; you have to live in the now, for that's the only time you'll ever be capable of living in.

Author's Note

Whenever there's some sort of inspiration that comes to mind, it's my signal to write. My inspiration, in this case, wuz an absolutely amazing, super talented, gorgeous guy. I'm not sure if you've heard of him, his name begins w/a T and ends with an OR...uh huh you got it! THOR! Naw, it's Taylor. Taylor Hanson? Allrighty, just making sure here. First, I'll tell ya bout the plan of attack I took on writing the story; I hope maybe all you writers out there can benefit from this. If not, I'm just exercising my typing fingers!

I immediately begin with a prologue and continue by planning out some key events in the story when I write. When I think of an idea, I just jot it down. Frequently, I'll skip a few chapters and create the most interesting scene, which in this case was the second to last chapter. I wrote and revised it a couple of times before filling in the blanks previous to that chapter. I also debated long and hard whether or not to alter the pointof view from 1st to 3rd person. Then I concluded that if Sara didn't tell the story, the internal conflict she faced would seem like much less of a problem, and the story wouldn't be complete.

I'd like to give thanx to a few awesome persons that helped make this story possible:
Llamaesque, thank you SO much for your interest in my story, your encouragement, and space on your page! You ROCK!
Hanson, my inspiration. Nuff said.
All you guys out there that write stories and decided to read this story, I
wanna say thanx for your time and comments.

E-mail me here---->[email protected]<-----w/comments or opinions.

So, there ya have it. It's 70+ pages long, almost novel length, and it took a whole 6 months to write. Yes, I DO have a social life, but I also
have time at 12:30 at night to sit down and write a few chapters. I REALLY hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Oh, and uh, just cuz I'm paranoid, this story is copyrighted, babay!---> �

Is that a word??---> Authorally Yours,

HeAtHeR

Don't Give up on Your Dreams

One day at a time--
this is enough.
Do not look back
and grieve over the past,
for it is gone;
and do not be troubled
about the future,
for it has not yet come.
Live in the present,
and make it so beautiful
that it will be worth
remembering.
~Ida Scott Taylor