The Little Sister Project

Chapter 3

My room wasn't really that small. The boys of One Direction grew up in smaller rooms, so I couldn't complain about it.
There were four red walls with various swirls, hearts, butterflies, and flowers painted in pink.
Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my room, but at the same time I was slowly becoming a girl version of punk Harry. Just without the tattoos and piercings.

On the left side of my room was a large wooden loft bed, and under it was a small keyboard (for music, not the computer) and a dresser.
The right side of my room had a bookshelf and a beanbag chair. I had that set up when I went through my 'If you even think about interrupting me while I'm reading this book, I will slap you' phase.
On a tiny table next to the bead bag chair, there was a cage. I had a hamster at the time. He was sure a fluffy ball of fur. I called him Muffin, because he is sweet, fluffy, I like muffins, and because the light brown to white color of his fur reminds me of a muffin.

"Alph, are you thinking about muffins again?" A voice called.

"Depends. Do you mean the hamster or the food, Lou?" I replied turning to look at her. At my statement she turned and raised her eyebrows.

"Cheeky chappy!" she said smiling brightly.

"I'm not a male," I said pouting and folding my arms against my chest.

"Whatever you say, honey," she said rolling her eyes fondly, then her expression suddenly turned excited."Did you sign up yet?"

"For what?"

"To eat your hamster," she says.

"Stop having your words dripping with sarcasm. I don't want to have to clean my carpet again."

"Oh, shut up, you love it. Anyway, did you sign up to be a Little Sister?"

"Oh. That's this year? Is it boys or girls first?"

You see, when NOCR was founded, they decided that every year there would be a contest. Every other year was The Little Brother Project, and all of the other years were called The Little Sister Project. There where two parts to the project: the male celebrities would be the hosts for six months, and the female celebrities would host the next six months. The organization changes it randomly each year for who will go first.

"Boys go first this time," she said with a wink.

"Ok, what's with the creepy winking?"

"It's not-"

"Yes it is. Don't deny it."

She stuck her tough out and looked me in the eye,"But in all seriousness, did you sign up?"

"No. What's even the point?"

"The point is that you could get One Direction!"

"First off, I highly doubt that my chances at that are very high. Second, there is someone out there who deserves it more than I do."

Loua rolled her eyes at me. "I don't think anyone's more deserving than you," she pouted,"I mean, you have a panic-"

"We don't talk about that," I stated, glaring at her. Her iPhone(just because it's a small town doesn't mean we don't have smart phones) went off in her pocket.

Sighing she said,"It's too late anyway. They already chose her. The boys will get to meet her tomorrow. I hope your happy."

"I am. The girl who was chosen will have a lovely time with her idols."

"I wish you would have signed up. You would be perfect for this. You have unique hair that has three colors in it. Well naturally, of we counted the dyed red ends, it would be four. You only wear makeup when you feel like it, and you hate eating food with your hands. You never had a beanie before, and you immediately decided you'd were one every where you went when I made you one. You are convicted that your high heel boots are lucky because you've never slipped in them. I honestly believe the boys would find you so interesting that they would try to adopt you."

"You're joking. No one wants to adopt someone with a Panic disorder. If anything, they would fall in love with you. You have vibrant red hair, and crystal blue eyes. You don't have one impurity on your face, and you actually have guys going after you. That's an advantage. You never take any attitude from anyone but me, and you don't freak out just being around people. I think they would rather adopt you."
She sighs, giving me a disapproving look and says,"Fine, but I still can't wait to see who the lucky chick is."

"Us chicks find that offensive."

"Hun, it's not offensive if a chick says it."

And with that, she walked out of my house and across the street to her own.

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A/N: that's somewhat of a general idea of what Loua looks like.
Bye muffins.
Thanks for reading.