I shower, both as a morning routine as much as as to collect myself. I dress in black and red checkered skinny jeans, black t-shirt, and a black and red flannel. I brush my hair to the side softly, thoroughly, apply some make-up, and put in my piercings one by one. I stare at my reflection, thinking about the boys and the past. I was never so much like my brother. Our similarity to each other now surprises me. I'm not the way I am as a way to just feel closer to him. I'm only me. Just as he is being himself, even more so. I haven't told him how proud I am of him, for being himself and following his dream, didn't tell him that I follow as a fan, but I kind of did.
"Your mother didn't want to see you turning out like your brother." Dad had said.
Michael was always sleek and good looking, but kind of a jerk, a drool worthy bad boy. He was a sports jock, as well, had the girls flocking and falling at his feet. He had at least one different girl every week. But he only acted that way. He taught me you had to be tough or get crushed. That was impossible for me before and all I know how to do now, all the survival I have to hang on to.
That was the old him, the teenage him ,growing up following in other's footsteps to seem cool. Until he finally found himself. In music and in friends. They express themselves just like I do, I realize now. I like their music and all, but I thought their look was merely that, a look, for their band. But I see now that they're as genuine as it can get.
I exit the bathroom, sitting on my bed to pull on my boots as a knock at my door sounds. "Come in," I say, not looking up from my feet.
"Look at you, all dolled up!" Mikey's voice exclaims. "You all ready to go?"
"Absolutely," I say, sliding to my feet and grabbing my bag from it spot hanging off my bedpost. "Just one question, where are we going exactly?"
"You'll see," he smirks, ushering me out the door. All I have to say is, it better be good, for him to wake me up this morning. He wasn't kidding about bright and early.
"No, I cannot be here!" I exclaim, filled with frightened nerves, trying, but failing, to break away from the boys and race back to the car. "You should have told me, I would have dressed better!"
"Relax, KittyKat," Michael coos to calm me down, gripping my shoulders and leaning down to my height to look into my eyes to apply his reassurance, "you're beautiful, and our fans are going to love you!"
"And I really have to speak to people?"
He laughs, "well, this is an interview, and everyone's real eager to meet you. I'm sure they'll have some questions they'll want to ask us all, and some focused on you in particular. But if you really don't want to do this---"
"No Michael, it's fine! Who gets to say they got to speak at a live interview with their famous brother and his friends? Like, no one. Besides, this is almost like a brother/sister kind of thing, something for you and I to do together. Like old times." He smiles down at me, ruffling my hair. I snatch his hand, squeezing it in a death hold. "Hey, mess with the hair and you pay. This is a taped interview, after all, and we all have to look our best. You're hot bro, but I bet even you couldn't pull off a black eye. Plus, I would probably get arrested for assaulting a famous person. Let's not create hassle."
Ashton swings an arm around my shoulder, hugging me close into his side, walking us passed all the fans like that. "You're right Michael, your sister does fit right in with us. I really like her." He grins at me. I smirk back in reply.