Chapter 1 - Hey, aren't you Taylor Hanson?

Taylor

School. The most feared word among teenagers in the entire English language. Most would prefer war to this sanctuary of learning punishment. All of my seventeen years I'd managed to avoid it, by the enlightened and heaven sent views of my parents. They'd believed the expectations of teenagers and standards to which they're tested were far below the necessary level. Mom had insisted on home schooling as a way to improve our educations and prepare us more for the outside perils of the world we live in today.

My best friends, Jason Ashley and Eric Silinger, had ventured many a time to my house of comfort and "school-free" environment to vent out the horrors of that dreaded building. I'd heard stories of mystery meat, pms-ing principals, soiled lockers, and cigarette saturated bathrooms. I can't believe the government would permit such a dreadful establishment to continue and further the tribulations of young adults in this day and age. Ashley and Eric constantly envied my fortune and sheer stroke of luck not to have been placed in that school of Satan.

Until now, that is. All of a sudden, after touring all over the world and shamelessly making millions of dollars, Mother decides that now I need to focus on receiving the best education available. She insists that I continue to further my academic career by pursuing college and finding a normal job. But, honestly, why do I really need a job? I'm a millionaire for pete's sake!

My intelligence level probably exceeds those of most college graduates already. I'm not trying to sound like an arrogant asshole. I'm simply telling it like it is. The absurdity of actually being forced into returning to private education really upsets me. I just don't understand her logic sometimes. I have all the training and ability to do what I want to do-music. I can sing, write, play, and even produce the lovely art known as music. As Mr. Floyd said: "I don't need no education." Although, he really did because he used a double negative, though I believe that was only to add to the irony of that phrase. Yeah, I digress.

At first I thought she was joking when she approached me and confronted me with her horrible decision. Mom was never one to sporadically invent some new way of doing things. She didn't much welcome change, and the whole career on the road just about killed her.

Zac hadn't been so upset by the momentous news. He actually swore that he'd enjoy taking classes at Dayton Academy and was looking forward to living a life similar to an ordinary fifteen year old. I tried to convince him that a rockstar attending high school wasn't an ordinary thing to do at all and that everyone would treat him differently. He merely brushed my comment aside like a pesky bumblebee flying around his head. Why wasn't he so affected by this unforeseen lifestyle change?

***

Today is my first day of senior year at Dayton Academy. I only know Ashley and Eric simply because their mothers and mine have played Thursday night bingo every week since we were five years old. I hoped I'd have most of my classes with them so I wouldn't feel like even more of a freak than I already do. I know that I will be gawked at constantly. I hate being stared at; all of my insecurities seem to pop out into my mind and I get all red-faced and sometimes, I think it would be amazingly sweet to just sigh and not be noticed by anyone. It must be so nice to walk down the street as a great big nobody. No cameras shoved constantly in your face, no need to always be friendly, no need to be accosted by fans who say they want to fuck you. What do you say? "I'm sorry but I don't fuck eleven year olds?" It gets entirely too ridiculous.

This is the most important reason why school is that last place I want to be. I just want to hibernate with my perfect family-perfect because they know me and understand me. I don't have to impress them or act any certain way. I can just be Tay. Things are just inexplicably right in my family unit.

Maybe I just have social issues. Maybe I'm one of those people with social anxiety disorders and need to take medication. And do you know what that perfect medication would be? NOT GOING TO THIS STUPID SCHOOL!

"Tay, are you ready or not?" Zac asked, as he bounded down the stairs. He looked ecstatic at the opportunity to meet new people and embrace the world with arms wide open. He was dressed neatly in the tacky uniform, a red sweater over a button down shirt (that we can wear if the sweater is too hot-isn't that kind of them? …just a touch of sarcasm.) The tips of his brown leather shoes stuck out from the slightly baggy khaki pants. His hair was pulled back into a rubber band so his face wasn't covered by the thick mane.

"Yeah," I muttered, grabbing a single binder filled with loose-leaf paper. "Get in the car." Zac bolted out to the jet black Explorer and I sighed and reflected a bit. Meditation always seemed to calm me down in times of stress and discomfiture. Mom approached me tentatively, as if she were somewhat cautious to speak to me. I could hardly blame her, since I'd been unusually cold to her since her earth shattering news. But I do believe that she had it coming, since she didn't even ask me about what I wanted before I was enrolled.

"Taylor, please stop pouting," Mom began. I rolled my eyes. Bad way to begin a pep talk. "This is what your father and I have decided was best for you and your siblings. You are the only one who is giving us grief over this, Taylor. Do you really think your father and I would put you in a terrible, horrible place where we'd think you'd ever be unhappy?"

"They're going to gawk at me," I began, almost wishing my moment of honesty had managed to stifle itself. I immediately felt that "aww, poor baby" glance from my mother and I instantly regretted my statement. If only I could print a retraction. I simply loathed signs of pity, especially from my mother. Oh well, since the truth was out I'd might as well continue. "Zac might enjoy it. You know he loves to be the center of attention. Isaac's in college, by choice might I add. The younger ones don't have to worry about being stared at and whispered about because they aren't the famous Hanson brothers. Me, I hate to be singled out. I hate to be pointed at and whispered about. I like to blend into the walls and talk to animals, not people."

"This is why we believe this arrangement is best for you," Mom continued. "We are doing this because of you. We don't want Zac, as well as the younger ones, to become as socially traumatized as you are. In fact, Dad and I had a talk with Dr. Carter and..."

"You talked to a shrink??" I demanded, huffily. How could she do this to me? I'm not crazy! I just like to be alone. "About me? How could you?"

"Taylor, he thinks this is just what you need," Mom continued, unaffected by my shameless attempt at guilt tripping. "I can't help but agree. Look at you. You are fighting with me about attending school. Normal kids go to school everyday."

"Are you saying I'm weird, Mom?" I was definitely more than hurt.

"No!" She exclaimed, ruefully. "I think you just need to stop the course of things before they become too late. I want you to be happy, honey. I want to help you feel at ease with the human race."

"I really hate this."

"I know you do," Mom commented, touching my shoulder gently. "This is why you need to go. You'd better hit the road before you're late for the first day of school." Zac also must have felt the same way because suddenly the horn was honking, telling me I'd better hurry.

***

"So, lemme see your schedule!" Ashley exclaimed, tearing the piece of paper out of my hands and examining it carefully. "You have government with Ms. Bradley? Gross, man. She smells like old lady!"

"Great," I mumbled, dragging my feet along. "Sounds great."

"Hey, I hear she's really sexist though in our favor," Eric put in. He always tried to cheer everyone up all the time. He was also the greatest brown noser in the world. Perhaps even a champion, if there was such a contest.

Ashley rolled his eyes. "Please, Eric. She only liked you because you alphabetized her file cabinets every morning. She hated me. She called me, and I quote, "the most useless being she'd ever confronted." I felt so proud that day." He burst out laughing as Eric and I exchanged glances. Only Ashley would pride himself on getting insults from teachers.

"Hey!" Eric exclaimed. "We have English together! Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah," I replied, with a half-smile.

"Oh, Tay-baby," Ashley began, putting an arm around my neck and speaking dramatically. "It's okay. This place won't kill you, it'll only strengthen you."

"Drop the histrionics, okay?" I muttered, walking away from my friends. "I'll see you guys in lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Eric replied as he and Ashley went up the stairs to Physics class.

As soon as I was alone, I felt the insecurity wave of death sweep over me. The room was full of eyes, strange eyes, and they were all completely focused on me. As I tried to walk obliviously down the tackily decorated halls, I heard the predicted whispers of girls wanting to know if I was really THE Taylor Hanson, if I was supposed to be here, if I was single, if I was gay. Every single fear I'd pondered now was birthed into life. I couldn't escape it or change it or even hide from it. It was everywhere.

"Excuse me," a petite girl with frizzy brown hair and oversized glasses, began, clearing her throat. "I am petitioning for vegetarian dishes to be served in the cafeteria and I was hoping you'd sign this."

"Huh?" I asked, startled to have actually been approached so quickly. Fans were rabid everywhere I suppose.

"Would you sign here?"

Great. My first half-hour into my first day at school and I was already being bothered into giving autographs.

"What's your name?" I asked, monotonously.

"Kayla…" her response was slow and somewhat surprised. "Um, that's not what…"

To Kayla, from Taylor Hanson. I quickly scribbled the note and made my way to first period Economics. What a complete bore that turned out to be! I could probably teach the damn class from my own personal experiences. Mr. Curtis was the teacher and he was about as interesting as organizing my sock drawer. All of my tutors who'd taught my siblings and I at the house were so interesting. They made learning so fascinating and challenging. They constantly pressed us and pushed us into growing more and becoming better aware of the knowledge around us.

Do you want to know what the class was like? Imagine larva. That was what the students highly resembled. There were the jocks, the idiotic useless wastes of space, adorned in unblemished jerseys, laughing and smashing coke cans on their foreheads. Ookay, then. Then there were the cheerleaders. The cheerleaders were mindless imbeciles that snapped their gum persistently and giggled at every single moronic thing any stupid jock did. Since when do women find shoving pencils up one's nose attractive? Then there were the nerds who raised their hands at every single question and snorted when they laughed at incredibly unfunny teacher jokes. Then there were the Goths. They were drawing cemeteries with their black pens. One happened to catch my glance and gave me the finger. Nice young lady with a purple Mohawk. I was the only somewhat sane member of the class. And I use that term loosely.

At lunch, Ashley and Eric met up with me at my locker. I was already underwhelmed with this entire "school" thing. It proved only to be the pointless waste of time I'd believed and my mother was definitely going to get an earful when I arrived home at two-thirty.

"How's your first day?" Eric asked as we walked toward the cafeteria.

"Big fun."

"You'll get used to it," stated Ashley, hunting for a seat. "Here we go. Nobody's here."

We sat down and quietly began eating our lunches. I made sure I packed my own since I sure as hell wasn't going to consume THAT mess I'd heard horror stories about, school lunches.

"Hey, losers," a deep voice boomed from nowhere. "You're in our seat."

"Sorry," Eric began, as he and Ashley stood up quickly. "C'mon, Tay. We can find another table."

"I don't think so," I muttered, not looking away from my tuna sandwich. "We were here first."

"TAY!" Eric's whiny voice exclaimed, pitifully.

"I think you'd better listen to your pathetic little friend, buddy," the voice repeated. Some hoots and hollers could be heard around him. I turned around slowly and put on my most comfortable face.

"Hey, aren't you Taylor Hanson?" A cheerleader asked, twisting her blonde hair around her finger. Of course. The idiot jocks were trying to cause trouble with the new, tortured artist student who happened to be incredibly good looking. This sounded like a possible pathetic plot from all those eighties movies that starred Molly Ringwald.

"Yeah..." Let the horrors begin.

"I, like, totally LOVED MMMbop!" She squealed like a dying pig.

"Thanks."

The big jock raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so we got some big famous guy in our school now who thinks he owns everything! I don't think so, buddy. This is our table so scram skinny boy."

I rolled my eyes at his pathetic attempt at psyching me out.

"No."

"No? No! What do you mean no?" His nostrils were starting to flare, revealing unsightly long nose hairs.

"Look, I'll try to speak in as many monosyllabic words as possible," I began, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "I am not going. I am staying here. You go away."

The jock, surprised by my fearlessness and inability to be bullied, looked back as his friends and started laughing to cover his cool. I, never being "bullied" before in my entire life, really had no idea what I would be putting myself through in the future due to this incident.

"Look, skinny, I'm asking you nicely for the last time. Get away from my table."

I looked him square in the eye. "I'm telling you nicely for the last time. No."

"Look, boy..."

"You look!" I shouted, standing up at my full 6'2" frame. "Would you just go away and leave us alone because clearly I'm not leaving and I'm sure not intimidated by you in the least. Why don't you save your breath as well as face and just get another fucking table?"

The big jock looked at me startled and wide eyed. I wondered if anyone had ever stepped up to him and I felt countless eyeballs glued to me and thousands of breaths being held. I suddenly grew painfully more and more aware, which caused me to kind of shrink down a bit. Did they really have to stare like that? It's not like they've never seen an argument before.

"Hey, Tony!" One of his pals exclaimed from the back of the pack. "You gonna let skinny talk to ya like that?"

Tony, the big jock, scrunched his face up angrily as he shouted, "NO!" Before I knew it, his fist bitterly connected with my face and I was sent crashing to the floor. It nearly took the wind right out of me, and I could taste the blood running down into my chapped lips. Ouch. My lip was cut.

"HEY! HEY!" A balding man came running toward us as I readied myself to fight back. He grabbed my arm and prevented me from completing the sweet revenge my entire body was craving. "Stop this now!" He glared at Tony menacingly. "I should have known you would have to cause trouble on the first day. I want you both in my office NOW!"

"Yes, Mr. Jenison," Tony muttered, gritting his teeth at me as he headed toward the office. People were absolutely silent as the two of us were escorted out of the cafeteria and I think I've shocked Ashley and Eric into comas. Fuck, my lip was killing me and I need those.

"Mr. Illioni, I want you to remain out here while I talk to Mr. …" He paused and grinned sheepishly. "What's your name son?"