Isaac was standing in front of a mirror, watching himself play air guitar. As usual, Taylor was tapping on something. I sighed. This was all so typical.
In the middle of the room, there was a tennis ball. I picked it up and began to bounce it off the wall, which, naturally, caused a riot. I was being annoying. Air guitar and banging weren’t annoying at all. Of coarse not. Just Zac’s stupid ball bouncing. It felt like it was always me. I didn’t need this. I sat on the floor, my back against the door, and slipped on my headphones. I wasn’t listening to anything. I just thought. About her. About being little, and how I had known her all my life. About The Incident. That’s what we had agreed to call it; The Incident. I hadn’t ever thought that that would come back to haunt me. I mean, I had made myself bulletproof. I had forced myself to forget it. It wasn’t supposed to come back. Why was it all coming back now?
I pulled back my sleeves and stared at my wrists for awhile. They looked so normal. Ghost white, with a few bluish-purple veins showing through my skin. They didn’t look like Abby’s. Not at all. Why hadn’t I realized that before? She wasn’t like me. She wasn’t all right. She had been different all along, and I should’ve seen that in her. This was all my fault. Whatever was happening, it was me… “Zac!” I looked up to see Taylor’s face, over mine. “Zac, what’re you doing? You’re blocking the door. Get up. It’s showtime.” Using the doorknob as support, I eventually climbed to my feet. Taylor pushed past me quickly, and drifted off into the hallway somewhere. Isaac blocked my path. I stood up to him, waiting to pass. He shut the door, staring at me. “Start talking.” I stood my ground. I reached for the doorknob, but he pushed my hand away. I sighed. “Move, will you?” Isaac didn’t respond. He nodded at my wrist, which I had unknowingly wrapped my hand around. “What…what are you doing?” I shook my head. “You don’t trust me?” He started to protest, but I cut him off. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a freak, right? You’re wrong. You know what I’m doing? Nothing. I’m doing nothing.” He glared at me, half-terrified. “What’s wrong with you? You’re crazy. I’m trying to be a good older brother, and you’re ready to shoot me. Who are you?” I smacked him. I don’t really know why. Maybe just to get him out of the doorway. Maybe to get my frustrations out. It didn’t matter. He grumbled and moved out of the way, letting me pass. I walked down the hallway nonchalantly, pretending that nothing had happened in there. I walked onto the stage (which, to my surprise, was outdoors). A few shrieks arose in the distance. A crowd of groupies screamed, waved, and held up, “I ‘Luv’ Hanson” signs at me. I waved quickly and casually, and then tried to ignore them. The sun beat down on me. It was so hot. I would need to change for tonight. I heard some yelling, and I turned to see Isaac, his cheek red from the impact of my hand. He didn’t seem to care, but somebody was having a huge fuss because he didn’t look “perfect” now. They were yelling at him for being so “clumsy.” I rolled my eyes and walked off of the opposite side of the stage, ignoring the “We love you, Zac!” cries behind me.
