Previously…: The ground was still muddy, but the air was nice and crisp. Great for a run. Or rather, a walk. Bill set the pace at a slow easy lope. Nothing hard, just nice and relaxing.

“So how was the auditions, didn’t really get anything out of you before.” I rolled my eyes at him, and started to tell him. I was showing him the steps we had to do as we crossed the street in front of a car that beeped angrily at us. I laughed and did a cartwheel in the center of the road. Bill laughed and pulled me off the road the moment I finished, in case the people decided that one hit and run wouldn’t be that much on their conscious.

“So it wasn’t hard?” I shrugged.

It was just fast. He nodded, and we kept walking, as I told him about all seven hours. There had done lots of other things besides learning the one song, there had been other pieces to learn. Different things to try to do. When I got to the part about not having a last name, Bill nodded empathetically just letting me rant and rave through my hands.

“So you didn’t get to meet any of the members?”

I did sort of meet one. Not sure which one. Bill laughed as I continued. But I flipped him off, and was kind of rude. Another laugh, as I started to tell him about going back to the studio, so that I could clear my mind, and almost getting caught. He threw his arm around my shoulder.

“Sounds just like my little sister.” We walked like that until the house came into view. The white minivan was in the driveway, meaning that everyone was home.

Race you back.

“On three. One, two.” Bill took off at a sprint. I laughed and sped off after him. He was a good yard in front of me. I leapt over the bush in the front yard, taking the lead. When I got to the door, I pushed it open, stumbling in breathing hard. Bill came in a few seconds later laughing. I pulled my shoes off, and headed into the kitchen, ready to get a glass of water. Sam was sitting on the counter munching on a cookie.

I waved to her happily, but she didn’t respond. Well that really just downed my mood. I moved as silently as I could past her, and got out a glass, filling it up with water from the sink as Mary walked in.

“Maria, where were you?”

Bill. Walking. Mary nodded.

“You need to clean up that mess on the stairs.” I groaned and she glared at me. “You should be trying harder to be keeping your place here. I’ve been more than a little relaxed with you going off to dance classes, and this audition thing.” I lowered my eyes, and finished my water, and set my glass in the sink as Mary opened up a cupboard and pulled out rags and some spray stuff. She pushed it into my hands. “You know what to do.” So that is how I spent my Sunday, cleaning up mud on the carpet, only stopping for lunch. By dinner I still had three more steps to go. It’s hard to clean mud off of carpet. I never did get to talk with Sam, Bill as the translator, because by the time dinner came around, it was decided that we would be having pizza. So no one sat down at the table, and I felt too tired to do anything but take a shower, and fall into bed. Sam’s intricate twists of my hair still tightly clinging to my scalp. Damn, she sure knew how to make hair styles stick without hair spray.

When I woke up to that annoying bleeping of the alarm clock, the light in the hallway was on, and I could hear voices downstairs. Pulling on the first clean pair of clothes I could get, I moved down the stairs, that were clean because that’s all I had been doing all of yesterday. Bill was spreading cream cheese thickly over a cinnamon bagel that was half burnt. Yummy.

Sam was sipping orange juice, and munching on a very thin looking piece of toast. Jeff had yet to come down. I grabbed a pop tart from the cupboard, and popped it into the toaster. We weren’t a talkative bunch in the morning. The coffee pot dinged, and Jeff appeared out of nowhere, and poured himself a very big cup. He plopped down next to Sam and yawned.

Bill handed him half of his burnt bagel. “We need to get going.” Jack always got driven into school by Mary, always late, but somehow always excused. Explain that logic to me. Bill ushered us all out the door, making sure that we had our backpacks, lunch money, and basically everything else. Mary never woke up before seven, and this was diffidently before seven. Bill piled us all into the minivan, and started up the radio, blaring out some 90s’ song that I really didn’t want to hear. I groaned and buried my head in my arms. Annoying song. When we got to school, the doors had just opened, and Bill watched carefully as Sam and Jeff walked to the Junior High. I was with Bill at the high school. He was in his senior year and I was two below him.

“Remember, Maria, you get by this week turning in homework, and no detentions.” I rolled my eyes and headed out of the car as Bill found a parking place. I didn’t really have any friends at the school, who wants to be friends with a foster child who can’t talk? Sometimes I would be called out of class to be shown around like a freak by teachers to their class who was trying to understand and learn some sign language. Normally I just cursed all their asses to hell, they just couldn’t understand it. Of course, then sometimes they had to get Mary to come in when I said something wrong in signs that they all knew. . . . Oh well. The day went by slower than a snail’s little pace. I tried to listen in, but it was just so boring. I don’t know why Bill wants to become a professor.

Nothing, thank God, happened for the most part of the week. Besides I got weird looks from teachers, for actually turning in homework. Paying attention, not flipping poor kiddos off in school. On Thursday afternoon, Bill was finally able to get Sam and me in the same room.

I’m sorry Sam for whatever I did. Bill translated and Sam smiled and hugged me around the waist. She squeezed tightly, “I’m sorry.” Just like that we were good.

So what about the hot boys? You have stuff on them? Bill tried not to look uncomfortable as he repeated everything I signed exactly. Sam laughed, noticing the way Bill had translated, wincing.

“Yeah, I have lots of stuff on them. We’ll start from the beginning. Oh, I’ve waited so long to do this.” She pulled us up to her room, but sent Bill off to find Jeff for some reason, and she pulled down this huge folder. And when I say huge I mean three inches thick. She plopped down onto the floor and opened it up, and I gaped at it. Jeff breezed into the doorway.

“So you’re finally showing her your obsession?” Sam threw one of her magazines, not from the big file, at him. He caught it and glanced at the cover, “Teen pop star sensation gets her own TV show.” He lets it fall to the floor and sank down next to Sam.

“Okay, so we’re going to start from the beginning. By beginning I mean, the first thing that I have on Falling Up Stairs.”

“Which is probably the first thing ever about them, she was with them since the start. I mean the very beginning too. This file she has, she carried around with her for two years, including through different homes, and she almost killed a girl who tried to steal a picture.”

Sam blushed starting as Bill sat down on the bed, looking down on all of us. “Okay, so they are really hot.”

They? Translation by Bill.

“The twins.” Sam clarified. “Ashley and Devon Sherta. Devon is the younger one.”

A-s-h-l-e-y. I fingered spelled, amazed, and Bill laughed at the expression on my face. I thought the twins were both boys.

“He goes by Ash. Most people think that is his real name, or think it is short for Ashton, or something like that, but it really is Ashley.” My body rocked with silent laughter as Sam got red in the face. “Mar, stop! It isn’t that bad.”

Yes it is. Bill didn’t even translate that, he was laughing along with me.

“Guys stop.” Jeff said sharply, and we both shut up, Jeff doesn’t say anything sharply a lot.

“Thanks.” Sam flashed a smile at Jeff as she pulled out one picture out of thousand of articles, clipping, CDs, you name it. She set a picture in front of me. Two guys. Just two. One was on a wooden floor his eyes shining with laughter, his hand clasped in the standing boy’s hand, ready to be pulled up.

Funky shoes, to normal sneakers. Skinny ass jeans, to normal ones. Tight short sleeve, to baggy long sleeve. Wrist adorn with friendship bracelets, to a wrist bare. Elegant black painted nails to ones clipped short. Studded choker, to shark tooth. Black Sonic the hedgehog hair, to blonde dreads. Eyeliner and eyeshadow, to no makeup. Blazing green eyes to blazing green eyes.

“This one’s Ash.” Sam pointed to the guy being pulled off the ground. “Devon had the dreads.” Ew. Dreads are icky and disgusting. “He keeps really good care of them.” I raised my eyebrows at her, you can’t have clean dreads. “Mar, seriously, really good care of them.” I shrugged, I doubt it. “It doesn’t matter, he has them, and nothing is going to change that.” ‘Kay. I shrugged, whatever you wanted to think little soul sister.

“So are you just going to show her a picture?” Bill inquired from up top the bed.

Sam glared at him, “You’re the one who was laughing about having the name Ash.” But she pulled out another one, of the guy standing on stage. Singing into the mic.

“Not Ash, Ashley, difference.” I looked at the picture. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to bash someone’s look, it is their own. But Ash looked like a girl. If Sam hadn’t told me he was a guy, I would be leaning towards the he’s a girl. I mean, he is wearing eyeshadow, eyeliner, and long hair, despite it being spiked.

“Nothing is wrong with his name, he’s cute.”

“And possibly the only guy who can pull off eyeshadow.” Jeff muttered, staring at the picture.

“Devon could too.” Sam replied, “They’re identical twins.”

“Couldn’t tell by looking at them.” Matt moved down so he was sitting next to me, able to see the picture of the brothers.

“Ash dyes his hair, that’s why you can’t really tell.”

“Along with using enough hairspray to create his own hole in the ozone.” Jeff rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know that’s not true,” Snapped back Sam as she riffled through her big yellow folder. “The guy is a true tree hugger, his hair spray is all eco-friendly, as is his eyeshadow, eyeliner, shampoo, conditioner, you name it, its eco-friendly.”

“What about that big gas guzzling bus they ride around in?” Sam glared at Jeff as she pulled out another picture.

“This is Ash.” Yeah, I nodded, I could see that, because he looked like a girl. “His birthday is June 13th, and is older than Devon by four minutes.” The picture was different than the other one, Ash didn’t exactly seem to be laughing, but there was still humor hidden in his eyes. His stance was very different than I would ever think a guy to take. Guys don’t go all out with their hips. Ash did apparently. His hands were on his hips, which were jutting out. His eyes staring the camera down, staring me down. It seemed so contradicting, with his stance, with his eyes, to have LOVE stacked in a square blazing across in pink against a black background. I think it was suppose to mean something, but I didn’t have a clue to what, except that it said love. “He goes through about a bottle of hairspray a week, to keep with his hair style, and we have yet to see a picture of him with flat hair, unless you count rain sometimes. Few cute ones of him in the rain.” Three more pictures were spread out before me. Ash in the rain. Ash soaked in the rain. Ash soaked to the very bone in rain. His makeup was running, but somehow he was able to make that look just fine.

How old are they? Bill translated, and Jeff shot up to a sitting position, looking at me, hidden glint in his eyes, answering before Sam, “Just your age Maria. Fifteen going on sixteen, and none of them virgins.” Sam blushed when I stared at her. She was in love with a band who at fifteen weren’t virgins. So maybe I lost mine a little younger, but fifteen? Not for popstars.

“It’s a choice.” She muttered, and I snorted. It wasn’t a damn choice for me. “It’s a choice for most of us. Actually, we don’t know for sure.”

We?

“We the fans.” She clarified, “They could still be virgins, but I doubt it. I mean they haven’t said anything really about it, but just they way they are.” Right. I nodded slowly, so you were just guessing by the way they acted? Total pervs could be virgins, or god fearing people could’ve lost it. Sam narrowed her eyes at me, somehow knowing what I was thinking, “I can tell you approximated dates, and guesses on the people.”

“So the guesses of the five W’s on their sex life. Kind of creepy.” Jeff moved back to staring at the ceiling.

“So? Other people out there could to.”

“None of them are twelve.” He said dismissively, moving his arm this way and that.

Sam ignored the comment, “Back to Ash, the guy is a vegetarian, and a sucker for candy. Not chocolate, but processed chemical artificial flavoring candy.” Ew. “He won’t eat Skittles though, made out of animal bones.” Again, ew. “He has three tattoos.” Okay, not sure how to react to this bit of information. Sam pulled her rain soaked Ash pictures back, and put on in its place. Just one picture, it was of two wrists. Seven stars in all. Three and a half on each wrist, talk about a little weird. “It’s like a yin and yang type of symbol.” I nodded, staring at the picture closer. “The wrist with the three white stars is Ash’s. He has the black half of the center star.” Yeah, I could see it. I gently traced over the outline of the star that was split right down the middle, where black and white met, where the two wrists separated, straight down the middle of the half white half black star. “The other wrist is Devon, with the three black stars.” Three and a half stars there too, except the two little stars had gone from the bottom to the top, medium from top to bottom. Sam pulled out another picture, exact copy of the other one, except for black lines drawn with sharpie over them.

“The symbol for Gemini. Twins, and their horoscope symbol. It wasn’t something that they explained too much to the public, but we caught it.” She traced the line of stars from Devon’s wrist to Ash’s, “It’s a little swirl type of thing. Same on the bottom.” Her fingers traced the sharpie line. “Then down come the two lines to complete the figurine, from the edges of the halved star.” I titled my head. Gemini. Twins.

So they’re close? Bill translated, waiting for the answer as eagerly as I was.

Sam nodded, “Very. You will almost never see the one without the other. Something bad happens to one, you’ll see it in the other.”

What about with the rest of the band?

“Depends.” Sam said, her fingers still tracing the lines of Gemini. “It will spread to the rest of the band, but you might not be able to tell. They don’t get as much camera time, so it is harder to tell. But then you might not ever be able to tell.” She looked up at me, her eyes slightly sad, “They lie well. Before they didn’t, first two years of interviews, you could catch the lies, even though they were used only a few times. Not now though.” She shrugged and looked down at the wrists of the twins, “I can’t even tell when they’re lying anymore. I could tell till up to about a year ago.” Sam shook herself, and drew the star tattoos back, replacing it with a picture of Devon. He was slumped back against a seat, knees on the chair in front, looking like everything was just awesome in general. From that picture, I could tell you he was the one I had glared at during auditions, the way he slumped in the seat was the same.

Blonde dreads pilled back into a messy knot atop his head, arms wrapped around a black guitar, which I knew shit about. So describing it, well it was black, with silver sharpie all over it. “And here we have Devon. Younger brother by four minutes. Hates to be called Dev, but it still happens. His hair is just past shoulder length with dreads, for as long as pictures have been shared to us. Didn’t have them when he was five, or seven, which are the only pics we can find of him before the band got big.

“He doesn’t have another tattoo, just the one on his wrist. Tends to eat meat just to annoy his brother. Plays the guitar, a Gibson, very hot, very expansive.” Bill snorted. “It’s a standard shape. Electric, and about as sweet as you can get. Silver sharpie is what the designs all over are in. He adds to them from time to time, but they all mean something to him.” She flipped out a close up of the guitar, so you could make out the words, if you could read his messy handwriting, which I couldn’t.

Translation? Sam obliged, moving her finer over the words. “Here it says, Falling Up Stairs. The band name. Picture of a horribly drawn cupcake. His favorite food.” It was horribly drawn, no idea how she knew it was a cupcake. “June 13th, 1994. Birthday. The Gemini sign.” Different picture pulled out, different part of the guitar. “Signature of everyone in the band, including his. Haley with a little heart, adorn with a ribbon, beneath her name. His only girlfriend so far.” Sam pulled back in her two guitar pictures, and pulled out a picture of Devon giving a brown haired, brown eyed girl a piggy-back ride.

“That’s Haley.” Sam pulled another picture, one with Devon’s hand around Haley’s wrist. I compared the two pictures. In both the girl was wearing warm brown, with white. No black, no dark colors, nothing impure looking. Her body was short and petite, somehow looking frail but strong at the same time. “Not sure quite what happened, but we don’t hear about her anymore, so I think she and Devon called it quits. Too soon to be sure though, no interviewer has challenged the topic for us. Yet.” Yet. Fun, fun.

“So there are three other members.” She pulled out another picture. It was of a brown haired guy with bright blue eyes. Chilly blue eyes. His hair wasn’t a buzz, but diffidently not the emo style most guys were sporting these days, a happy brown medium. “This is Matt. The drummer of the group.” I could see that, by the wooden drum stick that was caught in still motion flipping over his hand. “The guy is the resident perv, though Devon is diffidently giving him a run for his money.” Okay, I could see that, with the open collared long sleeve tee shirt, that was over a plain white tee. It didn’t quite say, “jump on me”, more like, “Hey, I’m a good guy who goes bad, sneak out to behind the bar with me.” Except you know, he doesn’t go to bars, too young. “He’s the oldest, at sixteen, and just learning to drive. Doesn’t have a particular favorite food, nothing really to say about him, except out of the three other band members, he is the one who gets the most camera time.”

A different picture was drawn out. Diffidently your stereotypical emo. Bleached blonde hair, dark clothes, you know the sorts. “Here is Trent, same age as the twins. He bleaches his hair, which I think is a pretty sick choice, like Ash’s choice to dye his.” The guy’s hands were in his pockets, eyes downwards, so I couldn’t see the color. “He’s the bassist for the band. Really hates the camera, but when it does shine on him, he always has some comment that you wouldn’t really want said.” I tilted my head.

Explain.

“Okay, so basically, two years ago, when they just got popular, somewhat, they did their first music video for Screaming From Within. They did a making of it, and Trent was the one who bit out the comments, about friggin’ cold, and how he thought the set was stupid. Speaks his mind a lot, or he says things that he knows the others wouldn’t.” Right, I nodded. “Like how he thought Matt getting mixed up with girls constantly is, and I quote exactly, “Fucking stupid, and I don’t know why he wants to get the image of a ho.”” I blinked. Twice. I thought these people were suppose to be, I don’t know, nice or at least lie to look nice.

Aren’t they suppose to lie to look good?

“Trent doesn’t do lying. You hear it from him, you know it’s the truth.”

“I don’t think I want Maria associating with these guys.” Bill muttered.

Not my Mother, you’re not even legal. My way out, I’m taking it. Period. Bill rolled his eyes at me, and moved his hand to try and take Sam’s folder, but she slapped his hand away, “Mine.” She growled. I snorted.

Bill looked like a hurt puppy. “But sharing is carrying, and it can be fun.”

Sam narrowed her eyes, “Mine.” Bill held up his hands slowly and backed them away.

So we were at T-r-e-n-t doesn’t lie?

“Maria wants to know what happens next.” I shrugged to Matt, well I guess that worked.

“He got sort of the image of being mean, and not as close to the guys. I personally think if they can tour together, than they are close. But all that has no meaning compared to his belts.”

Jeff actually rolled up to a sitting position, “They’re awesome.” He was allowed to take the folder from Sam, and pulled out three different pictures. They were all of waists. With awesome belts on them. “He always has the coolest ones, and we never do see him wear the same one twice.”

“Correction,” Sam interrupted. “He loves his checked skull, with big gold skull, wears that one a lot.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but that is about it, he has to run out of them soon.” Then Jeff put the three kick ass belts back into the folder, and riffled through it. “But all this pales in comparison to Sam.” I looked at Sam and raised an eyebrow. She can sing or something? But Jeff drew my attention back by pulling out a picture of a little kid. “This is Sam, and Sam loves Sam.” I blinked. I really didn’t get that. Sam was blushing though when I glanced at her.

“His real name is Samuel.”

“And she is leaving out the best part; they have the same birthday, same date, same time, just different year.” I looked up at Sam, are you serious?

“He’s only two years older than me, fourteen.”

“He’s sort of short for his age, and has a total fondness for all those preppy brand names clothes.” Ew, and Sam liked this guy? I looked closer at his picture, his hands were in mid motion over a key board. Brown eyes, brown hair, pretty average looking, except being short, and having a sort of rat looking face, in a cute way. Wow, how can you have a ratish looking face but still be cute? Ask Samuel, not me, because he was able to pull it off.

“The guy is a total pig, and whenever the camera sees him, he is pulling out food. He wears this long coat, with big pockets, that he keeps all his food in.”

“He is a whiz on the computer, and stuff like that. He’s the guy who started up their webpage on MySpace, and Facebook, along with all those other ones. He hates the camera for a fact. So we don’t really know if that is how he acts. He just really loves his little snacks”

What about interviews? He has to be in interviews. Bill was looking at the picture, not watching my hands. I flicked him on the nose. “What?” I resigned. He repeated it word for word, good boy.

Sam shrugged, and Jeff pulled picture on top of picture out of the folder, all of Samuel. “He is always quiet, and when a question is directed at him, he either deflects it, or someone else in the band picks it up for him, in a way that doesn’t seem like they’re being rude. But when he does answer, he always seems really sweet.” I nodded slowly, trying to get past the block in my head that had gone up going, “They’re weird. Weird, weird, weird. They’re weird.” The block wasn’t moving.

“He’s really sweet though.” Sam added, trying to save her lover.

“And we know this because he never talks.” Sam glared at Jeff, “He does too talk, just not a lot, and everyone in the band, always love him, and joke about him, and how he is so nice.”

Lying I pointed out, and Bill nodded, “You said they just started to lie a hell of a lot.”

“Not because they want to, their manager is very pushy. Steve Arthur.” I watched as Sam started to pick up the pictures of Sam Jeff had scattered all over her floor. Each one very hot, but you could tell they were snap shots, not by professional photographer. A few seemed to be of him getting dressed, but I couldn’t tell, because Sam put those away the quickest, but if it was, then he had very nice abs. At least for a cute rat. “He was a long time family friend of Trent’s parents. But he is pretty much obsessive about their public image. Very good at making it perfect, he tried to change something about the guys, like Ash not painting his nails.” I gawked at her, finally registering that a guy painted his nails. But then I closed my mouth, he did look girly, eyeliner eyeshadow, what was painted nails? “But he refused, because it was him, they do that a lot, refuse to change because it isn’t them. That’s why Stevie really gets fed up a lot of the time.” Sam smiled then, pulling out another picture, “But he is pretty awesome anyway.” I looked at the picture. It was all the guys, covered in, I squinted. I couldn’t tell what they were covered in, just that it was white, white and fluffy.

“What the hell is that stuff?” Bill asked.

“Language.” Sam received a glare. “Bubbles.” She stated finally, “It was the photo shoot that Stevie thought would just be fun. It wasn’t just fun for them, it was dead sexy for us to watch.”

“You went to it?” Can Bill’s startled response.

Sam snorted, “Hell-“

“Language.”

“No, wish I did, but they had videos up on their YouTube channel of the photo shoot. Then someone put up the pieces of film that had been edited out, had them stuffing it down each other’s shirt. Very hot.” Right, I nodded slowly, totally not thinking it was wrong or anything that she had watched guys stuffing bubbles down their clothing. Wasn’t weird at all.

Sam’s blush rose when no one said anything, “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Jeff replied, staring at the picture of the guys with the bubbles.

“Oh Jeff, you know you liked watching it too.”

“I did, because they were acting like idiots.”

Sam scowled at him, before changing the subject, somewhat. “See, Stevie really isn’t that bad, he just looks out for them a lot. He’s not the one that doesn’t allow them to eat sweets though, that would go to the twin’s mother, Mrs. Jess Sherta.”

Why doesn’t she let them have sugar?

“She think they’ll be more than a little too hyped, and doesn’t want them getting fat.”

So back to the boys. Any fun facts?

“Lots.” Sam replied. She pulled out a picture of a wrist, millions, billions, maybe even trillions of little thread bracelets were on it. “So this is Ash’s wrist, and his way of acknowledging us, more or less. They’re all friendship bracelets, some of them he made, some fans made, and he gets new ones a lot of the time, and as long as they’re big enough, he wears them.” I looked at the different bracelets. Some were not that great, fraying at edges, coming undone, colors clashing, while others were beautiful. The colors were perfect, the design was beautiful, and they were just amazing in general. Sam drew my attention to black writing all over the paper, little lines connecting bracelets and blobs of words. “He is pretty good at remembering where they came from.” Her finger circled on blob that was connected to a worn out looking green, blue, and black friendship bracelet. “He’s been wearing this one for a long time now. This article is about half a year old, but he’s been wearing the bracelet for three years now.” Wow, long time. “Read it.” Sam commanded, and I obliged, pulling the paper into my lap, Bill reading silently over my shoulder along with me.

This one is, or was, from a nine year old girl, three years ago, so I think she’s twelve now. First one I ever got from someone, so it’s pretty cool. “Blue”, she said, “represents confidence and stability. Remain loyal to all. Green in for the environment, and the child that you should never grow out of. Black was for my favorite color, and to try and get those deep meanings to the lyrics, even if no one else seems to understand them, as long as the meaning is still there.” I think I still have the letter somewhere at home. Didn’t have to look at it to remember it though.

“This one is mine. I did it when I was nine. He’s worn it forever now.” I looked up at her.

That is cool.

“Maria says its cool, and I think it is pretty hot.”

“And sort of sweet.” Jeff piped up, “He cares about things like this enough to remember.”

Sam glowed, “Yeah, he is really sweet, just not in the morning. He likes his coffee. So does everyone else. Except Trent, he likes tea.” She looked through her folder. “You know, now that I’m telling you about that, I can’t for the damn life of me, know what to say.” I shrugged at her. She bit her finger. “Well, there are a lot of fanmade pictures out on the web.” She pulled three different ones out. Devon brushing his lips against Ash. Matt and Trent making out. Ash wrapping his younger brother in a protective hug, which would look more innocent if their shirts were on. “These are some of the better ones.”

“Besides you know the fact, that it is two guys doing something. Especially two guys who are brothers. Not just brothers, twins.”

“At the moment, and in our minds, hotness trumps stuff like that.” Sam replied back. Bill muttered something I didn’t quite catch, and dropped paper and pencil into my hand before leaving the room. “These were all made by the same girl, and she is very good at it. She’s seventeen, and very skilled with this stuff.” I looked closer at the pictures, very scary that a seventeen year old could do this. “The one with Matt and Trent is really recent. She forgot to mention that she had made the image, and someone thought it was for real. It was all over, and fans were freaking out.”

“Yeah, so much talk about it. They got tons and tons of the pictures in fan mail, and it took them a week before they actually came forth, and said that it wasn’t real. They had contacted the girl who had created it.” Jeff continued part of the story, before Sam took over again.

“She has made some of the best ones, and she said sorry so many times. They had an interview with her. She’s only a high school girl, and she felt so bad about it, because it was just for fun, and she normally puts up that the image is just her imagination, but she forgot. So during the interview with the band, she showed them how the image was made. It was great. One of the best interviews with a fan ever, and then in about ten minutes she did one image of Ash straddling Devon. Really hot, and you should’ve seen their blushes.” Sam laughed a little.

“Maria!” I looked around, to see who was calling me.

“It’s Mary.” Sam supplied for me. I nodded, and got up off the floor, to go see my screaming foster mother, she sounded pissed about something. Not sure with what. I hadn’t gotten a detention or anything all during the week.