Sacrifice

"It's gonna be a hot one fella," says Alan, my best mate. Sunshine for Saturday morning at the Skater Park – heaven – for Skater boys like us.

I welcome the heat; it means I can wear my favourite Skater boy look: baggy shorts (hung low) skater shoes (Vans, tied loose) baggy vest from Fallen (skater brands essential) and finally the skater cap (worn sideways.) Sorted.

I have a feeling as we swagger towards the park – this will be my last day of: wheelies, bunny hops and hardflips. I sense something – when I say goodbye to Alan at the end of the day, I put my skateboard down and give him a hug. Skater boys don't do hugs. Messy. 

I walk into my living room, and instinctively know. My younger sister sobs, Dad looks at the floor, and Mum looks how you'd expect a Mother, who's soon to say goodbye to her teenage son to look – crushed.

Eventually, Dad speaks, his head still focused on the floor, "Sorry son, I lost my job today; will you go?" He looks at me, through aching, asking eyes, "Do it for us son – please!"

Dad drives me to the house. We arrive just after nightfall. It looms large and imposing at the end of a sweeping tree lined lane; a huge metal gate guards its entrance. Dad presses the intercom and a stern voice crackles, "Hello." Crippled by a mix of nerves and loneliness, I remain silent. Dad looks at me, only when I nod – yes – does he speak into the intercom, "It's Paul Brady, I have Liam for you." The gates shudder: clunk, scrape, open. With a hurting heart, Dad hands me over.

My new guardians are considerably older than my parents, and a lot less relaxed. They take my phone, then give me their house rules; a long list of 'don'ts' not a single 'do.'

I wake feeling optimistic; I'll get used to it, make the most of this new life. That soon changes when I meet my guardians at breakfast. To my horror – they begin talking of surgery.

"What – plastic surgery – NO WAY!" I shriek.

My female guardian puts a hand on my shoulder, "But we need to mould you Liam, make you ours – trust us, we know what we're doing. You're in safe hands." I'm creeped.

My male guardian accompanies me to the private hospital. I sign the consent forms with a shaking hand. In the operating theatre the anesthetist asks me to count to ten; next thing I remember is waking in absolute agony.

They bring me back to the house; dosed up on prescription painkillers; my face bound in bandages. The pain breaks through the analgesia, hot and slicing.

When they take the bandages off, they advise me not to look, "Wait until the bruising and swelling's gone down," says my female guardian. They've removed all the mirrors from my living quarters, so I can't look, even if I want too – my new guardians are control freaks.

I stare at my new nose with a sad sense of loss. My dear Dad always used to say, "Big noses run in our family, ha, ha." Now, that huge piece of my genetic make-up has been removed, replaced by a neat little ski-slope, just like my new guardians – they beam, "Do you like it?" they ask, "I don't know?" is my honest answer.

They chop off all my hair and dye it a startling fluorescent blonde – I hate it with a passion. The gear they dress me in – wrong.

With my transformation complete, my guardians request I join them in the living room at noon – sharp.

I arrive on time. Two guys sit on the couch; I note a look of nervous apprehension on their faces, like I'd had when I arrived. My female guardian introduces us, "Liam, this is Dale and Paschal; your new brothers – I hope you get on – you HAVE to get on!" she says with her usual controlling authority. Our male guardian steps in with his threatening tone, "You've been given a lifeline guys; we expect a lot in return."

1 year later

A tense atmosphere fills the room. Our male guardian paces, wiping sweaty droplets from his worried brow. I sit with my head hung low, praying in silence. A piercing scream invades the room, causing us all to flinch and exchange nervous glances. Another man enters the room, huge and imposing, not a man to mess with. The scream intensifies to a pained screech. This prompts our male guardian to shout his order: "Liam, Dale, Paschal, stand up! This is it, it's now or never. Brace yourselves!" We take a collective deep breath and move towards the doors.

A tidal wave of screams, tears and tantrums hit us with an incredible force. Amidst the mayhem I catch snippets of tearful declarations, "I love you so much Liam!" Girls, infected with infatuation, grasp at us, only to be pulled away by burly guys dressed in black. I try my best (like I've been told) to engage with as many as I can, but the sheer numbers and heightened emotions prove dangerous. In a blur of adulation we're ushered into a waiting vehicle. The doors slam shut. Safe.

The reinforced car crawls carefully through a storming sea of crazy love. Once clear, our female guardian turns to us from the front passenger seat, a smug smile spans her face, "You've made it boys, your first public appearance as a boy band - they love you - well done."

I return to my real family - successful. 

A talent scout had spotted my singing videos on YouTube. When they approached me to ask if I'd like to be in a boy band they were assembling, I initially turned them down. But, when Dad lost his job, I decided to sacrifice the 'real' me, and go for it – for my family.

Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices to succeed in this life. I'm sad that I had to sacrifice the skater boy to become a boy band boy. But that's life; I'm a very lucky lad.  

Maybe one day, when my youth has faded, and I'm no longer wanted, I'll find Alan and return to the skater park – the oldest skater boys in town.