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Something heavy and vaguely child-sized landed square on my back early one morning in December; I realised it was Christmas morning when my sleep-fogged mind registered that there were sleigh bells jingling above my head at the same time.

I groaned and extricated my face from my pillow, forcing my eyes open and squinting at Lila. “Li, it’s five in the freaking morning,” I groaned. “Go play with your stocking.”

I retaliated by kicking Lila off of my bed, pulling my pillow over my head and trying to go back to sleep.

My sleep was interrupted once more about three hours later – this time my mother was the culprit. “Tay, honey, wake up; Lila and Oliver have been waiting to open their presents for over two hours.”

“Don’t I know it,” I agreed as I hauled myself upright. “Lila came barrelling in here at five and practically ordered me to get up.”

Mum chuckled. “Well, come on, up you get; there are a few things waiting for you under the tree.”

The ‘few things’ turned out to be some of the most incredible gifts I’d ever received. A laptop computer, three CDs (The Eminem Show by Eminem; Highly Evolved by The Vines; Three by The John Butler Trio) – and a Fender Stratocaster electric guitar plus amplifier.

“Oh, wow,” I whispered as I tore the wrapping paper away from my new guitar. It was honestly one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life, and I’d seen a lot of those (Cassie included).

“You deserve it,” Dad said. “We are so proud of you for getting signed; you, Cassandra and Matthew have worked incredibly hard over the past couple of years. And I know we don’t have to say this, but be careful with it.”

“I will be,” I promised. “I won’t even let Cassie or Matt touch it.” And really, I wouldn’t – I was going to be the only one allowed to lay even a finger on it.

Dad laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s yours; you may as well call the shots.”

“Can I have a go?” Emma asked hopefully from where she was admiring her new ballet shoes. “Later on?”

“You can look at it, but not touch,” I replied. “I’ll show you some stuff later if you like, but you’ll have to play my acoustic.”

After breakfast, I nicked upstairs. The family would be here in less than an hour, and first priority on my list was a shower. I needed to wash my hair; now that it was shorter, it was a damn sight easier to take care of. Cassie had taken to streaking non-permanent fluorescent hair colour through it, and remnants of her last colour trip were still in my hair. Pink, purple and blue to be precise. I grabbed some clean clothes out of my wardrobe and went into the bathroom.

One hot shower later, I was sitting at the kitchen table re-plaiting my rat tail; I could now do it by feel alone, as opposed to having to stand in front of a mirror and plaiting by sight. I could also do it in half the time, which was definitely a good thing. For by the time I rewound the rubber band around the end of the plait, the doorbell was ringing. First to arrive were Mum’s family, the Silvestris – I tolerated them, but I preferred to keep well out of their way, especially when it came to my Italian grandfather. I had absolutely no respect for him, same as he had never respected me, and it drove my mother nuts.

“Taylor, honey, please try not to aggravate your grandfather this year,” Mum begged as she rushed to open the front door.

“If he doesn’t get on my nerves first,” I said. “You know that he hates me.”

My grandmother came striding into the kitchen and spotted me sitting at the table. “Taylor Kennedy, where are your manners?” she asked in heavily accented English.

I’ll give you manners in a minute, I grumbled inwardly. “Ciao Nonna,” I said resignedly. I guess after that she figured she wouldn’t get anything else out of me, for she left me alone after that.

Dad’s family, the Kennedys, descended little more than ten minutes later, freeing me from my grandmother’s constant scrutiny of my hair, my clothing, everything. She only ever acted like that toward me, never toward Emma or Lila or Oliver. Probably because I was adopted.

Dad’s sister-in-law (and therefore my aunt) Jo was quite honestly my favourite relative out of all the Kennedys. She was the one who had noticed my talent for music first (when I was thirteen no less), and had coerced my parents into buying me a second-hand acoustic guitar and allowing me to take lessons. I still had that first guitar, which I’d named Jo, and it was in fact the guitar I’d been playing at the show the night we got our contract. Even though I now had a brand new electric guitar, there was no way in hell that I’d ever replace my first guitar. It was my baby, my pride and joy, and aside from when I had hurled it at my bedroom door back in April I had never mistreated it; it was in excellent condition.

“Who’s the rock star now?” called Aunt Jo as she walked into the dining room.

“Hi Auntie Jo!” I said, allowing her to catch me up in an embrace. “You’re never gonna guess what Mum and Dad gave me for Christmas.” When she shrugged, I replied, “A Fender Strat electric guitar.”

“Ooh, now that would have cost a pretty penny,” she commented, eyes lighting up. She affected a mock stern gaze. “You’re not going to replace that old acoustic of yours now, are you?”

I feigned an expression of mock horror. “Of course not! That old acoustic happens to serve me very well; I was playing it the night we got our recording contract.”

“Speaking of recording, how’s it going?” Aunt Jo asked, sitting down at the table beside me. “Are you behind schedule, or are you going to be finished on time?”

“Actually, we’re ahead of schedule. Everyone at the studio thinks we’ll be finished by mid February. We’ll probably start touring in April, May at a stretch. I can’t wait, to tell you the truth. It’s going to be a blast.”

“I’m sure it will be. You have absolutely no idea how proud of you we all are; Renegade will put Gosford on the map for sure.”

“I bet the Silvestris aren’t proud of me; I know that my grandfather isn’t too happy about it, and neither is my grandmother.”

“Ah, they don’t count,” Aunt Jo said dismissively. “You’re a Kennedy for heaven’s sake, not a Silvestri. Who really gives a damn what they think? Well, except for your mother,” she added quickly. “I bet your parents are proud of you.”

“Why else would they get me a brand new, most likely very expensive guitar?” I shrugged. “Unless of course they bought it on eBay.”

Aunt Jo laughed. “I seriously doubt that.” She grinned at me. “Well, I best let you get back to staring into space; I don’t want to monopolise you all day. Merry Christmas.”

I didn’t stay sitting at the table for long after that. Before long I had ventured into the living room, where Jacqui, Liza and Rhett were all watching Shrek with Lila and Oliver. After watching the movie for a little while, I went upstairs and liberated my acoustic guitar from the depths of my bedroom. I took it out onto the back deck with me and settled myself into a deckchair. An argument between my grandparents (Mum’s parents) and my parents was brewing over near the fence; on the pretence of tuning my guitar, I listened to the argument.

“Why do you continue to allow this family to be continually shamed by his actions?” my grandfather raged. “He has no consideration of family values, no respect for his elders.”

“You seem to forget that he is adopted,” Mum spat. “And he only has no respect for the two of you because neither of you respect him!”

“Then you shamed the family first!” my grandmother retaliated. “And now you are allowing him to do this! Allowing him to further ignore his heritage!”

“Mother, he is not Italian! None of us even know what his heritage is! And for crying out loud, he is nineteen years old. He will be twenty in less than three months! He has been an adult for over one and a half years now, and he has shown it in more ways than you can imagine. He has a job, he has a girlfriend, and he is on his way to achieving a dream that is his, and his alone.” Mum ran a hand through her black curls. “Mark and I, we thank God each and every day that we have him; we love him more than even we’re able to comprehend. I may not have brought him into this world myself, but he is still our son and we still love him.”

My grandfather continued his tirade. “He has absolutely no place in the family, Francesca! No place whatsoever! You have brought shame upon the family three times now – first when you married him” he shot a look of pure venom at Dad “second when you adopted a child, and third when you allowed him to pursue a career path that will come to nothing! I will never consider him as part of this family. Never.”

I decided at that point to intervene. Leaving my guitar propped up against the wall, I strode over to the fence.

“Saying what I should have said long ago,” I replied. “You said yourself that I’m an adult; let me prove it.” Mum nodded, she and Dad backed away, and I faced my grandparents.

“I am ashamed to be your grandson, do you know that? My mother has done nothing to bring shame on the family, and neither have I. Do you know how many people my age dream of being musicians, but never make that dream come true? Yet here I am, and I’ve done what hundreds of kids haven’t. I’ve formed a band, and we’ve been signed. If anything you should be proud of me.”

I turned to my grandfather. “Do you know why I don’t respect you? Because you don’t respect me. I haven’t forgotten the way you abused me when I was a kid; it’s a bit hard to forget when I have scars all over my body from your ‘punishments’. And my cousins from your fucked up side of this family have taken it upon themselves to continue the abuse when you haven’t been around to do it yourself! One of their pranks against me actually came this close” I held my right thumb and index finger at the tiniest interval “to claiming my life. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? My cousins held me underwater until I very nearly drowned. One of them even stood on my back so I couldn’t get to the surface and take a breath. I had to be resuscitated by my own mother; it would have killed her if she’d lost me that way. I am so lucky to be alive after everything that the Silvestris have inflicted on me in my life, you really have no idea. And another thing – if you think that I have no place in this family, then consider this. My mother, the woman who brought me into this world, did not want me. If I hadn’t been adopted by the Kennedy family, Heaven only knows what would have become of me.”

I then turned to my grandmother. “It’s true that I don’t know my own heritage. I only know that I’m American. Hell, I could have some Italian in me for all I know, but that’s just it. I don’t know. I will probably never find out what I truly am. And personally, I’m far better off not knowing. My parents don’t give a flying fuck what family I was born into. They only care for who I am now. I became an adult, a fully functioning member of society, at 3:50 in the morning on March fourteenth last year. And in less than three months, I’m going to be turning twenty. I have my own identity; my girlfriend says that I’m a non-conformist, because of all my tattoos, my eyebrow piercing, my long hair, everything about me. And she loves me for that. If you don’t like that I’m not the perfect grandchild, then guess what? The two of you can kiss my American ass.”

I stepped back slightly. “The two of you are the worst examples of human beings ever to walk the face of this earth. You are racist for one thing. So what if I’m not Italian? I am still a person; I still breathe and I still have a heart that beats, just like everyone else in this world. I still have feelings. And right now, I am proud to be a Kennedy, but I am deeply ashamed that I was ever associated with the seeming perfection that is the Silvestri family. Now if you please, I have to practice.”

I turned on my heel and strode back over to the deck; I grabbed my guitar and went back into the house, up to my room. About five minutes afterward, my bedroom door creaked open and my mother sidled in.

“I don’t belong down there,” I said quietly. “He’s right; I’ll never be a part of this family.”

“Oh, baby, don’t you listen to them,” Mum said; she sat down beside me on my bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You’re as much a part of this family as your sisters and brother are. And your dad and I, we are so proud of you. You’ve done something that nobody else in this family has ever managed to do, and you’ve managed it at nineteen. That’s quite an achievement if you ask me.”

“I guess…” I looked at my mother. “Is that why you got me that guitar?”

Mum nodded. “That, and you deserved a new guitar. You’ve had that old acoustic since you were thirteen, and I know you’ve probably had enough of having to borrow Dale Shelton’s electric guitar for every concert and recording session. Am I right?” I nodded. “So now you have two guitars. And I expect to see you playing your new one at your first concert.”

“That’s my baby. Now, I want you to come downstairs and help me out with Christmas dinner; I want you to help me stuff the turkey.”

“Aw, Mum…” But regardless of my feelings toward turkey stuffing, I left my guitar on my bed and followed Mum downstairs.

When Christmas dinner was finished, I – on the request of my family – gave an impromptu performance on my brand new guitar. Aside from the little disagreement between my parents and grandparents, it’d been a great Christmas – I had a new computer, a new way to antagonise the neighbours (meaning my new guitar), new CDs…it was all good. I was happy, probably happier than I’d been in months. And if everyone we worked with at the studio was right in their predictions, life would be a damn sight better before long.

I shouldered my guitar case as I walked up the front path to the Dale family’s front door, whistling as I rang the doorbell and stepped back. It was Boxing Day, and that was usually the day that Matthew, Cassie and I got together and compared Christmases. I guess we could have waited until we returned to Sydney, but I couldn’t wait; I wanted to show off my new toy.

Cassie flung the front door open, a huge grin on her face. “Wait till you see what I got for Christmas!” she said as she dragged me into the house.

She had good reason to be excited – like me, her parents had given her a new instrument as a reward for breaking the big time. Only her reward was a brand new Kurzweil keyboard. I suspected that Matthew’s reward was a new drumkit. All three of us had been playing second-hand instruments from the very beginning, and first priority for us had always been to get new instruments as soon as we could. I had my first electric guitar, Cassie had her new keyboard…it remained to be seen whether Matthew’s parents had caved and bought him a new drumkit.

“What did Matt get for Christmas?” I asked as I accepted a bowl of chocolate and cherry Christmas cake drowning in store-bought vanilla custard. The Dales didn’t buy a traditional Christmas cake, seeing as nobody in the family liked or even tolerated the taste of it.

Cassie pointed at where my guitar case had been propped up against the coffee table. “So, what’s in there?”

I put my bowl down on the coffee table and pulled the case toward me; Cassie let out a squeal as I unzipped it. “Oh, wow,” she commented. “That’s amazing! And your parents actually bought you that?”

I nodded happily. “They did. They said that it was my reward for getting signed, and a well-deserved reward at that. I’ll be able to give Dale his guitar back now that I have my own.”

“Oh yeah, that you will; that’ll make him happy. So, did you write anything new?”

“Yeah, I did actually.” I dug around in my guitar case and unearthed some sheets of paper – half were sheets of notebook paper with lyrics written in black ballpoint pen, and the others were sheets of manuscript paper with notes pencilled on the staffs. “You remember the New Year’s Eve party that gets put on every year at the lake? Well, I was thinking that, seeing as we’re signed up to play this year, we could perform a Christmas song.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I wrote a Christmas song. All on my lonesome. I don’t know what it’s going to sound like with all three of us, but it sounds pretty good on the guitar. I just can’t decide whether to play it on acoustic or electric guitar, that’s all.”

“Well, give me a look and I’ll let you know what I think.” I passed the papers across to Cassie, and she scanned the lyrics and notes that I’d jotted down. “Hmm, not bad.”

“It’s not our normal style, but I like it,” Cassie clarified. “Matt’ll be here soon, he said he’d definitely bring his drumkit, and when he does we can learn it.” She settled back into the lounge and broke off a piece of cake with her fingers. “So, how was your Christmas?”

I sighed resignedly, then recounted the story of my Christmas Day; however I skimmed over the finer details, like the fight I’d had with Mum’s parents. I didn’t think she really needed to know what kind of problems that we were having within the family.

Matthew arrived little more than ten minutes later, his older brother helping him to drag his drumkit into the house. There was the requisite drooling over my guitar, then we got to looking over my song lyrics.

“Well, it’s slightly short notice, and it’s not really our style, but I think we can probably learn it by next Tuesday,” Matthew said finally.

“Oh, shut your trap. I know it’s short notice, and that we usually give ourselves a month or more to prepare-”

“Yeah, well, usually we don’t have a debut album to record,” Cassie cut in.

“Cassie, would you just shut up, please? As I was saying, normally we give ourselves a month. But if we meet up at my place once a day to practice, we could pull this off no worries.”

“Tay, what did I say to Cass four months ago? I said that we could go far with this band thing. And I was right on the mark. So if I say that we can pull this off in less than one week, we can do it. So how about Tay, you hook that Strat up to its amp and the power point, and Cass, you break out that keyboard of yours, and we’ll get down to work.”

The annual New Year’s By The Lake town gathering was in full swing by the time our families rocked up; Renegade was scheduled to go onstage at nine, and it was eight-fifteen when we met up in front of the main stage. Cassie, Matthew and I agreed to go looking around at the stalls and meet up at five to nine.

I checked my wallet to see just how much money I had with me, counting ten dollars eighty five, six game tokens from Rowan’s Funland (down in Ulladulla – we’d gone there on holiday the previous summer), a flattened cap from a bottle of grapefruit Ruski, one of my chain necklaces, my driver’s licence, two train tickets, a couple of shopping dockets, the SIM card from Mum’s old phone, my ATM card, my library card, a little plastic zip lock bag with my spare eyebrow rings inside, my membership card for the leagues club and a spare key to my car. A search of my pockets unearthed a further two dollars seventy and a cap from a bottle of Schweppes Creaming Soda.

Thirteen dollars sixty. And I had three quarters of an hour in which to spend it.

Forty minutes later I met Cassie and Matthew back at the stage; I’d been bitten countless times by mosquitoes and was therefore scratching at my exposed arms fairly constantly, but by the looks of it so had Matthew and Cassie.

“Okay, so what now?” I asked as we sat backstage, waiting to be called up for our performance. “Do we just churn out covers or what?”

“I think that would be the best plan of action; we’ll play five covers and finish up with Christmas Time. That should keep them happy. Then we go get drunk.”

“That’s always your answer to everything,” Cassie laughed. “Go and get drunk.” She pulled sharply on one of her pigtails, which had been decorated with bright green tinsel. She’d also stuck tiny little stars on her cheeks and dusted the rest of her face, plus her arms, with glitter powder. A bit extreme I felt, but that was Cassie Dale for you. “So what covers?”

“I reckon we should do that Our Lady Peace song, Somewhere Out There,” I replied. “We know that one almost better than we know our own music.”

“And…” Matthew frowned. “Million Tears by Kasey Chambers; Cass, you always did that one really well. Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down…actually, three covers plus our original would be better than five covers. We’ll start with Somewhere Out There, move on to Kryptonite, then Million Tears, and Christmas Time to round out the set. That would be the best course of action I think.”

We took the stage little more than five minutes later, launching right into Somewhere Out There as soon as we were each in position.

“Last time I talked to you…you were lonely and out of place…you were looking down on me…lost out in space…laid underneath the stars…strung out and feeling brave…watch the red orange glow…watch it float away…

“Down here in the atmosphere…garbage and city lights…you gotta save your tired soul…you gotta save our lives…turn on the radio…to find you on satellite…I’m waiting for the sky to fall…I’m waiting for a sign…all we are is all so far…

“You’re falling back to me…the star that I can’t see…I know you’re out there, somewhere out there…you’re falling out of reach…defying gravity…I know you’re out there, somewhere out there…

“Hope you remember me…when you’re homesick and need a change…I miss your purple hair…I miss the way you taste…I know you’ll come back someday…on a bed of nails I wait…I’m praying that you don’t burn out…or fade away…all we are is all so far…

“You’re falling back to me…the star that I can’t see…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…you’re falling out of reach…defying gravity…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…you’re falling back to me…the star that I can’t see…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…you’re falling out of reach…defying gravity…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…you’re falling back to me…the star that I can’t see…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…you’re falling out of reach…defying gravity…I know you’re out there…somewhere out there…

“You’re falling back to me…well I know, I know…you’re falling out of reach…I know…”

After Kryptonite, we played Million Tears; I swapped my electric guitar for my old acoustic, and Cassie moved to the centre of the stage.

“Take my hand…break my stride…make me smile…for every time I’ve cried…hold my heart…in the palm of your hand…don’t listen to it breakin’…just listen to the band…

“Do you wanna ride in my car…it’s parked out on the street…or just stay with me awhile…before I fall asleep…take these tears…wash your skin…I’m havin’ trouble breathing…since you walked in…

“My hands are tied…my head is reeling…my eyes have cried…a million tears…from wishing you were here…

“All my life…I’ve welcomed pain…I’ve made up more excuses…to bring it back again…now I’m here…and I’ll drink to the shame…I’ll drink to the madness…that made me this way…

“My hands are tied…my head is reeling…my eyes have cried…a million tears…from wishing you were here…

“Take these tears…wash your skin…I’m havin’ trouble breathing…since you walked in…”

“All right, our final song is an original song, one that we will probably never record unless we take it upon ourselves to record a Christmas album,” Matthew told the gathered crowd. “So treasure this; it’s more than likely the only time you will get to hear it.” A nod from me, and Matthew counted in. We’d elected to share the vocals on this one.

“Everything is different…but nothing’s changed…now we’re going in circles…it’s Christmas again…can’t you hear the sleigh bells ring…all our voices unite…and look up to the heavens…see the stars shining bright…

“Everybody needs a little lovin’…around Christmas time…somehow you got to know you’re gonna be all right…do you remember how it used to be…sitting under the Christmas tree…in your heart you’ll…find the season…

“We’ve been blessed by the children…black, yellow and white…they believe in the things…we try to deny…so throw down your weapons…but continue the fight…and let’s love one another…on this holy night…

“Oh reach down inside your heart…and see all the love…oh in your heart you’ll…find the reason…

“Everybody needs a little lovin’…around Christmas time…somehow you got to know you’re gonna be all right…do you remember how it used to be…when I loved you and you loved me…in your heart you’ll…find the season…”

The gathered crowd erupted in tumultuous applause after the echoes died, and I addressed the crowd. “Thank you so much for supporting us in our journey to being signed; we’re in the finishing stages of recording our debut album, which if all goes to plan will be released April 2003,” I said. “Happy New Year everyone!”

It would definitely be a happy new year for all involved with Renegade; I’d heard whispers that the record executives were seriously considering not forcing us to rerecord each and every song from Riders On The Storm; rather, they were planning to add what we had already recorded to what was on the master tape for ROTS and release that. They’d said themselves how impressed they were by it, and it made perfect sense to me. Why force us to rerecord what had already been done? What we were recording at the moment was exactly the same quality as what we’d done seven, nearly eight months earlier; it just needed a little tweaking to make it sound slightly more professional.

Cassie came and curled up next to me as the fireworks started. “I love you,” she said to me. “I never thought I would love someone as much as you.”

“I love you too Cass,” I replied. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

I kissed Cassie and pulled her close. “Always,” I replied. “Well, here’s to 2003…let’s make this the best year yet.”