They were at the end of another concert. It was April.
“Thanks for being here with us today. We’ve got,” he paused for screaming, “we’ve got one last song, and we really want you guys to join us for this one.”
Adam looked a little confused from the drums. What’s this about another song? He tried to catch someone’s eye, but no one (who knew anything) looked back.
“Tomorrow,” Sam said, “one of us will legally be allowed to vote, smoke and grope.”
From backstage, Taylor looked at Rita.
“I’ve heard those words before. I think they’ve spent way too much time with their Uncle Zac.”
Rita giggled.
“So will you all please join us,” Mike continued as Adam groaned softly from the drum kit, “in singing ‘happy birthday’ to Adam.”
“Just a second,” Xavier interrupted. “I think he’s hiding.”
He bounded over, grabbed his cousin’s wrist and pulled him out from behind the drums to the front of the stage.
“One, two,” Mike counted.
“Happy birthday to you!” half sang, half screamed the hall of people. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Adam! Happy birthday to you!”
“Hip, hip,” Xavier incited.
“Hooray!”
“Hip, hip,” Sam grinned.
“Hooray!”
“I can’t hear you!” Xavier shouted the same time Mike said: “Hip, hip.”
“Hooray!” the fans exploded.
A few minutes later they finally got off the stage. Mike gave Xavier a dark look.
“Never, ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Say ‘I can’t hear you’, in concert.”
Xavier laughed.
“What you guys do that for?” asked Adam. “I didn’t need that.”
“What? All your fans to sing you ‘Happy birthday’? I thought that was pretty cool,” Sam commented.
“My idea!” Xavier declared.
“It always is,” Adam replied drolly.
“Ahh, you’re just jealous my hair looks that much cooler than yours.”
“Xavier, your mohawk is blue, yellow and green. Who, other than you, would want hair like that?” Mike asked.
“Ever paid attention to how many fans dye their hair the same colours as mine?” Xavier returned smugly.
“Monkey see, monkey do.”
“So now our fans are monkeys?”
“No, only yours.”