road4

Zac stopped in the middle of the street. His eyes widened. He was like a deer caught in headlights on a highway at night. A fog rolled over him, time was swimming by, and the car was inching towards him in slow motion. His brain was stuck. He was in shock. Move. Move. Car. Move. Death. Pain. Move. MOVE, Zac, dammit! In a swift and sudden mutiny over his babbling brain, his body jerked back into the gutter. The car swept past him, sending a wave of cold, oily slush over him from the chest down.

Startled, Zac stared dumbly down at his soaked clothing. Jillian sprinted across the street, grabbed him by the shoulders, and gently eased him up out of the gutter onto the sidewalk.

Zac swallowed. A few seconds later and his life would have changed drastically. "Um..." He stared into space, absently brushing the front of his coat as if that would get rid of the water. "I'm kinda wet."

Jillian laughed, but it was one of those laughs people have after being really scared by part of a horror movie - a laugh to keep from being hysterical. "Oh. Oh, gosh. We gotta get you out of those wet clothes or you'll catch pneumonia and die anyway." She took his arm and guided him back across the street, checking for cars first this time.

Zac's brain resumed normal functioning once they were back inside. Now he was really cold. A depressing thought made him slap his forehead. "Man, all my clothes are in the car, and that's in the shop. And I only have this one coat. Crap." Zac stood in the entryway, dripping water onto the tile and shivering.

"Last time I was home I 'borrowed' a pair of my older brother's sweatpants. He's about your size. You can wear those. Is your shirt wet, or just your coat?"

"Wait here, I'll be right back." Jillian took off up the stairs. He could hear her footfalls thumping, two steps at a time, and growing fainter as she neared the top of the building. Just then, Zac noticed the girls in the lobby staring at him. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "Whew, it's hot out there," he said, fanning himself and pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. The girls giggled and started whispering. Zac looked away, and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots. Please, God, don't let them recognize me, or this will be all over the Internet by midnight.

Just then, Jillian bounded out of the stairwell and jumped down the three short risers into the lobby, skidding on a rug and nearly falling on her rear end. "Here," she said breathlessly, handing him a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a huge golden yellow sweatshirt. "I thought you...could use...the sweatshirt...since your coat... is all wet," she panted, leaning over and putting her hands on her knees. "Man that's some workout. And I thought...marching band...was tough."

Zac held up the sweatpants. They looked about the right size. But where am I supposed to go to change into these? It's a girls' dorm. "Umm, Jillian?"

"Too big?" she asked, looking up and brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. Zac glanced at the girls in the lobby, who were watching the whole thing. They burst out into a fresh batch of giggles as he looked at them, then back at the sweatpants, then down at himself.

"Oops!" Jillian turned red. "Guess you can't change out here, can you? Sorry. Come on, there's a men's room down the hall." She straightened up, threw the gigglers a dirty look and started back down the hallway.

Zac followed, every step making a squeaky squelching noise. He felt eyes staring at him every time they passed an open door, and he was feeling very self-conscious. When they reached the men's restroom, he shut and locked the door, relieved to be away from all the attention.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair hadn't gotten wet, but it still looked scraggly from being blown around. His cheeks were bright red, but he wasn't quite sure if it was from the cold or embarrassment. Basically, he thought with annoyance, I look like a wet rat.

Zac took inventory of his clothing. His coat was now two shades of khaki - light at the top where it was dry and darker from about the middle of his chest on down, where it was wet. He took off his coat and dropped it in a soggy pile on the linoleum. Under the coat he was wearing a black t-shirt with a long-underwear top underneath it, and they were both still dry. His pants were dry from his waist until right above his knees, where his coat stopped. Thank God, Zac thought with a sigh of relief,
because I'm pretty sure she didn't 'borrow' any of her brother's underwear.

He sat down on a wooden bench in the corner to take off his boots. The outsides were wet, but they were wearable. His socks had also escaped the drenching. He struggled to pull off his wet jeans, then dried his legs with a rough brown paper towel and slid into the sweatpants. After putting his boots back on, he slumped back against the wall and let out a big whoosh of air. Closing his eyes, he thought, Can this day get any worse? Car breaks down, weather is freezing, I not only practically get killed but now I'm going to get a cold and I'm stuck with a pile of wet clothing and mis-matched sweats to walk around in.

"I got an idea...how about we get the wings to go and then take your stuff back to the laundromat and dry them while we eat?"

Ah, but has the day been a total wash-out, Zac? No, it hasn't. You met Jillian. You have to admit, she's pretty cool. And where's that old Zac Hanson spirit? Yes, you look weird, but since when has wearing clothes that don't really match ever been a problem for you? You sound like Taylor.

Zac's eyes flew open at that thought. Be like Taylor? Never! He hopped up off the bench, gathered all his wet clothing, and went out to face the world. Well, the female half of it, anyway.

Jillian pulled the car into a parking space. Instead of parallel parking, the cars had to park diagonally, with their back ends stuck out into the street. It reminded Zac of some of the small farming towns they had driven through.

There were a lot of bars on either side of the street. This must be the party district, Zac thought. "You come down here much?"

"A couple of times, with Laurie. It's great fun if you wanna get really drunk and have equally drunk frat guys hit on you. I don't. Besides, if I wanna get hit on, I can just do laundry at the dorm."

He was, however, impressed with the restaurant Jillian had chosen. Too bad they couldn't eat here. The smell made his mouth water, and it had great atmosphere. The walls were about 12 feet tall, and the ceiling was covered with old tin ceiling plates. The plaster walls were stained a dusky yellow from years of cigarette smoke and grease. The floors were wooden and creaky. There were all kinds of posters and photos and college football memorabilia and animal heads and autographed pictures and farm implements and just tons of stuff.

He hesitated slightly. Then he glanced down at his outfit and said, "Nah. As much as I like these trendy clothes, I'd like my own pants back." The girl behind the cash register gave them a funny look, and Zac wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the laundromat, sitting on top of the washing machines eating buffalo wings and drinking Coke from styrofoam cups. "Ok," Jillian said, wiping her greasy fingers on a paper napkin. "Now, please explain to me why you went looking for a laundromat in a strange town?" She looked at him expectantly.

Zac swallowed his chicken. "I'm afraid it's kind of anti-climactic," he said hesitantly. "Especially after the afternoon we've had."

"Yes, you're Zac Hanson, I know," she smiled. So she was sitting in a laundromat with a famous rock star. She didn't really care. He was just a person, after all.

Zac looked pleased. "Anyway," he continued, "I started going into places like this mainly to get away from people and all that 'you're Zac Hanson - can I have your autograph/picture' stuff. I've been doing this since I was pretty small, you know. I haven't really had much time to myself the last eight or nine years. I'm not complaining, I love it, really, but it's the truth."

Jillian nodded her head. People hardly ever think about that part of being a star, she thought. It must suck. She was also ashamed of herself for thinking he might have been an underwear thief.

"I needed to get away from my family, too. I love them all, but they can be a bit much sometimes, six other kids and Mom and Dad. Well, one day last year, I had a fight with my older brother over something stupid. I don't even remember what it was. It was dumb, and I threw a little fit and stormed out. I was gonna run away, I think, or something. But as I was walking, I decided that maybe I just needed to find someplace that kind of belonged to me - a fairly safe quiet place where no one would recognize me, and away from my dumb brother. Then maybe I could get some peace."

"That all makes sense," Jillian agreed. Her family drove her nuts sometimes too. "But if you were looking for someplace quiet, why did you pick a laundromat as opposed to, say, a library?"

"Well," Zac hesitated again. He looked down at his hands, which caused his hair to fall from behind his ears and partially cover his face. Peeking out from behind the hair, he said quietly, "Initially I tried going to the library. I thought I could lose myself in the stacks. But...you're gonna think this is weird." He chewed on his bottom lip.

Zac nodded. "Every place has noise. You know, in the background. At the library there was a lot of shuffling and echoes and random little sounds. It grated on my nerves after a while. Then one day when I was out walking, it started raining and I ducked into the closest building. It happened to be a laudromat. It was warm, and the machines made a nice rhythm. I appreciated that, being a drummer, you know. I knew that was where I needed to be." He glanced apprehensively at Jillian's face, wondering if she was going to laugh at him.



		Chapter Four

"Zac! Look out!!" Jillian screamed and jumped to her feet, horrified. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't turn away. Zac stopped in the middle of the street. His eyes widened. He was like a deer caught in headlights on a highway at night. A fog rolled over him, time was swimming by, and the car was inching towards him in slow motion. His brain was stuck. He was in shock. Move. Move. Car. Move. Death. Pain. Move. MOVE, Zac, dammit! In a swift and sudden mutiny over his babbling brain, his body jerked back into the gutter. The car swept past him, sending a wave of cold, oily slush over him from the chest down. Startled, Zac stared dumbly down at his soaked clothing. Jillian sprinted across the street, grabbed him by the shoulders, and gently eased him up out of the gutter onto the sidewalk. "Zac, my God, you almost got hit! Are you ok?" Zac swallowed. A few seconds later and his life would have changed drastically. "Um..." He stared into space, absently brushing the front of his coat as if that would get rid of the water. "I'm kinda wet." Jillian laughed, but it was one of those laughs people have after being really scared by part of a horror movie - a laugh to keep from being hysterical. "Oh. Oh, gosh. We gotta get you out of those wet clothes or you'll catch pneumonia and die anyway." She took his arm and guided him back across the street, checking for cars first this time. Zac's brain resumed normal functioning once they were back inside. Now he was really cold. A depressing thought made him slap his forehead. "Man, all my clothes are in the car, and that's in the shop. And I only have this one coat. Crap." Zac stood in the entryway, dripping water onto the tile and shivering. "Last time I was home I 'borrowed' a pair of my older brother's sweatpants. He's about your size. You can wear those. Is your shirt wet, or just your coat?" His thick canvas coat had borne the brunt of the attack, and miraculously, everything it covered appeared to still be dry. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Jillian took off up the stairs. He could hear her footfalls thumping, two steps at a time, and growing fainter as she neared the top of the building. Just then, Zac noticed the girls in the lobby staring at him. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "Whew, it's hot out there," he said, fanning himself and pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. The girls giggled and started whispering. Zac looked away, and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots. Please, God, don't let them recognize me, or this will be all over the Internet by midnight. Just then, Jillian bounded out of the stairwell and jumped down the three short risers into the lobby, skidding on a rug and nearly falling on her rear end. "Here," she said breathlessly, handing him a pair of navy blue sweatpants and a huge golden yellow sweatshirt. "I thought you...could use...the sweatshirt...since your coat... is all wet," she panted, leaning over and putting her hands on her knees. "Man that's some workout. And I thought...marching band...was tough." Zac held up the sweatpants. They looked about the right size. But where am I supposed to go to change into these? It's a girls' dorm. "Umm, Jillian?" "Too big?" she asked, looking up and brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. Zac glanced at the girls in the lobby, who were watching the whole thing. They burst out into a fresh batch of giggles as he looked at them, then back at the sweatpants, then down at himself. "Oops!" Jillian turned red. "Guess you can't change out here, can you? Sorry. Come on, there's a men's room down the hall." She straightened up, threw the gigglers a dirty look and started back down the hallway. Zac followed, every step making a squeaky squelching noise. He felt eyes staring at him every time they passed an open door, and he was feeling very self-conscious. When they reached the men's restroom, he shut and locked the door, relieved to be away from all the attention. He looked at himself in the mirror. His hair hadn't gotten wet, but it still looked scraggly from being blown around. His cheeks were bright red, but he wasn't quite sure if it was from the cold or embarrassment. Basically, he thought with annoyance, I look like a wet rat. Zac took inventory of his clothing. His coat was now two shades of khaki - light at the top where it was dry and darker from about the middle of his chest on down, where it was wet. He took off his coat and dropped it in a soggy pile on the linoleum. Under the coat he was wearing a black t-shirt with a long-underwear top underneath it, and they were both still dry. His pants were dry from his waist until right above his knees, where his coat stopped. Thank God, Zac thought with a sigh of relief, because I'm pretty sure she didn't 'borrow' any of her brother's underwear. He sat down on a wooden bench in the corner to take off his boots. The outsides were wet, but they were wearable. His socks had also escaped the drenching. He struggled to pull off his wet jeans, then dried his legs with a rough brown paper towel and slid into the sweatpants. After putting his boots back on, he slumped back against the wall and let out a big whoosh of air. Closing his eyes, he thought, Can this day get any worse? Car breaks down, weather is freezing, I not only practically get killed but now I'm going to get a cold and I'm stuck with a pile of wet clothing and mis-matched sweats to walk around in. There was a quiet knock at the door. "Zac?" Jillian said. "Do they fit?" "Yeah," he answered sullenly. "I got an idea...how about we get the wings to go and then take your stuff back to the laundromat and dry them while we eat?" Hey, why didn't I think of that? "Sounds like a good idea. I'll be right out." "OK, I'm gonna go call." He heard her walk down the hall, tennis shoes squeaking in the trail of water he'd left. Ah, but has the day been a total wash-out, Zac? No, it hasn't. You met Jillian. You have to admit, she's pretty cool. And where's that old Zac Hanson spirit? Yes, you look weird, but since when has wearing clothes that don't really match ever been a problem for you? You sound like Taylor. Zac's eyes flew open at that thought. Be like Taylor? Never! He hopped up off the bench, gathered all his wet clothing, and went out to face the world. Well, the female half of it, anyway. Jillian pulled the car into a parking space. Instead of parallel parking, the cars had to park diagonally, with their back ends stuck out into the street. It reminded Zac of some of the small farming towns they had driven through. There were a lot of bars on either side of the street. This must be the party district, Zac thought. "You come down here much?" "A couple of times, with Laurie. It's great fun if you wanna get really drunk and have equally drunk frat guys hit on you. I don't. Besides, if I wanna get hit on, I can just do laundry at the dorm." Zac laughed. He had only been in a few bars, illegally, and he hadn't been too impressed with them. He was, however, impressed with the restaurant Jillian had chosen. Too bad they couldn't eat here. The smell made his mouth water, and it had great atmosphere. The walls were about 12 feet tall, and the ceiling was covered with old tin ceiling plates. The plaster walls were stained a dusky yellow from years of cigarette smoke and grease. The floors were wooden and creaky. There were all kinds of posters and photos and college football memorabilia and animal heads and autographed pictures and farm implements and just tons of stuff. "This is cool!" Zac said, looking in all directions at once. "How can you eat here and not get whiplash?" Jillian laughed. "Told you it was neat," she answered. "Should we stay and eat? It's up to you." He hesitated slightly. Then he glanced down at his outfit and said, "Nah. As much as I like these trendy clothes, I'd like my own pants back." The girl behind the cash register gave them a funny look, and Zac wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Oh, Zac, grow up," Jillian giggled. "How fun would that be?" Zac answered. Twenty minutes later they were back in the laundromat, sitting on top of the washing machines eating buffalo wings and drinking Coke from styrofoam cups. "Ok," Jillian said, wiping her greasy fingers on a paper napkin. "Now, please explain to me why you went looking for a laundromat in a strange town?" She looked at him expectantly. Zac swallowed his chicken. "I'm afraid it's kind of anti-climactic," he said hesitantly. "Especially after the afternoon we've had." "It's been very entertaining," Jillian said. "As I'm sure this will be. Go on, already." "Well, like I said, I'm in a band..." "Yes, you're Zac Hanson, I know," she smiled. So she was sitting in a laundromat with a famous rock star. She didn't really care. He was just a person, after all. Zac looked pleased. "Anyway," he continued, "I started going into places like this mainly to get away from people and all that 'you're Zac Hanson - can I have your autograph/picture' stuff. I've been doing this since I was pretty small, you know. I haven't really had much time to myself the last eight or nine years. I'm not complaining, I love it, really, but it's the truth." Jillian nodded her head. People hardly ever think about that part of being a star, she thought. It must suck. She was also ashamed of herself for thinking he might have been an underwear thief. "I needed to get away from my family, too. I love them all, but they can be a bit much sometimes, six other kids and Mom and Dad. Well, one day last year, I had a fight with my older brother over something stupid. I don't even remember what it was. It was dumb, and I threw a little fit and stormed out. I was gonna run away, I think, or something. But as I was walking, I decided that maybe I just needed to find someplace that kind of belonged to me - a fairly safe quiet place where no one would recognize me, and away from my dumb brother. Then maybe I could get some peace." "That all makes sense," Jillian agreed. Her family drove her nuts sometimes too. "But if you were looking for someplace quiet, why did you pick a laundromat as opposed to, say, a library?" "Well," Zac hesitated again. He looked down at his hands, which caused his hair to fall from behind his ears and partially cover his face. Peeking out from behind the hair, he said quietly, "Initially I tried going to the library. I thought I could lose myself in the stacks. But...you're gonna think this is weird." He chewed on his bottom lip. "No I won't. Tell me." She smiled gently. "The noise was wrong." He brushed his hair back behind his ears again. Jillian was a little confused. "Noise? In a library?" Zac nodded. "Every place has noise. You know, in the background. At the library there was a lot of shuffling and echoes and random little sounds. It grated on my nerves after a while. Then one day when I was out walking, it started raining and I ducked into the closest building. It happened to be a laudromat. It was warm, and the machines made a nice rhythm. I appreciated that, being a drummer, you know. I knew that was where I needed to be." He glanced apprehensively at Jillian's face, wondering if she was going to laugh at him. She didn't.

	Chapter Five Fiction Adrift