It was showtime. Taylor was in the dressing room, playing the dresser like an idiot. That was his way of practicing after a soundcheck—play anything wood in sight, the way you would a keyboard. And then Isaac would walk around with his video camera, talking to it as if it were a person. He should’ve been a journalist or something…he interviewed everyone before every show, and it was almost scary how good he was getting at it. I tried to talk him in to it a few times. I would rather have him interview me than some of the stupid people I had to talk to.
I was sitting in the hallway, watching our little brother, Mackenzie, draw a picture of The Beatles. He was seven-years-old by now, but he acted a lot older. He was a pretty precocious little kid, if you asked me.
Isaac came over, his camera practically glued to his eye. He aimed it at Mackie, and began to ask him about every little detail of the picture. Ike had this crazy idea that our little brother was the next Picasso, or something. I didn’t get him. I just didn’t.
“Oh, and here’s Zac. He’s in a bad mood today, about something…” He whispered something into the camera that I couldn’t make out, and then focused back on me. “Say hi to the camera, Zac.” I looked at Mackie, who smiled back at me. He wanted me to say it. I hated how little kids could make you do anything.
“Hi to the camera,” I said sarcastically. Isaac sighed. “Ooh, brilliant, Zac. That will definitely the one quote everybody will remember that Zac Hanson said twenty years from now.” I shrugged. “Well, I personally thought it was great.” Taylor interrupted us then. He waltzed out of the dressing room, my sticks in his hands. “Okay, guys, it’s that time again. Let’s show Milwaukee what we’re made of.” He tossed the drumsticks at me. “Zac, man, you’ve really gotta stop leaving these around like you do. That’s not a good habit.” I flashed him a cheesy smile, just to spite him. Isaac had some how gotten rid of the camera by now, and we started heading out to the stage. Our whole stage crew was lined up against the thin, narrow walls, and as each of us passed them, they wished us luck. The usual. We took our places on stage, looking at each other, as to assure ourselves that everything was all right. I could feel my heart beating heavily, almost as heavily as I was breathing. I closed my eyes as the curtains opened, and the blinding lights descended on me.
