The boys and I sat around in a circle with scowls on our faces.
"This is bull!" Louis protested.
"I can't believe they called The Ringer on us," I added. The Ringer was a musical genius. She had no name that anyone knew of, yet everyone knew who she was. When people started to get more and more interested in a particular musician or group they put in a request with The Ringer to check them out. If she gets an overwhelming amount of requests for the same thing, she'll check them out. It's a great complement, saying you have enough people that like your music to bring her down here, but it's also a death sentence. She's notorious for ruining the most famous and well like people on the planet by uncovering hidden secrets, lies, and severe flaws in their music. She brought down the Jonas Brothers and even The Fray.
"We're going down in flames," Liam sighed from the couch. His head rested on his fist.
Zayn sat up. "Well maybe we won't. We don't have anything to hide and our fans like our music. There's nothing she has to go on."
"The Fray Zayn," Harry kept repeating. "She took down The Fray."
"She always finds something," added Louis. "Even if we didn't even know about it, she'll find it."
"I'm going outside," I stood, needing some support to trick me into thinking we could get through this unscathed. "Talk to some fans..."
"That sounds like a good idea actually..." The other boys stood and followed me despite my protests. I needed to be alone and scream out my anger. Nothing else could relieve the depression and anger I felt knowing that somehow, my band would be torn to ruins.
The screams were deafening, but they made me smile slightly. People cared.
"What do you think about The Ringer?" I heard Liam ask a girl as he signed her picture. We were separated from the fans by a heavy gate and hands clawed through to try and touch us.
"I want to see what she finds!!! Oh my god I just love you guys so much like you don't even know!!!" The girl broke down in tears as someone else tore past her and had Liam take a picture with her.
"Do you like The Ringer?" Zayn asked.
"I think she's good at her job and I want to find out new stuff about you guys!!!"
"You do realize that The Ringer could bring us down right?" Harry stepped in. "Everything she finds could ruin us."
"Well what are you hiding that makes you think that?" A skinny, tall blonde girl, about fifteen years of age spoke calmly and asserted herself amongst the raging crowd. We were all drawn to both her calm demeanor and her blunt question.
"We're not hiding anything," I said with a scowl. "But something are just better left undiscovered."
"So what you're telling me, is that even though you're not hiding anything, there's something you want to keep hidden. Sounds like you're hiding something. And judging by your body language and aggressiveness, it's something big."
"Do you like The Ringer?" Louis spat. "Maybe you should be one of her fans instead."
She smirked. "I would hope so. I am The Ringer."
Crowd control then opened the gate for her to slip past until she stood directly in front of us, blocking the screaming fans. She wore a simply white blouse tucked into faded jean shorts with a brown braided belt and lots of silver bracelets on her right writs. Her left hand clung to the strap of her cross body brown satchel.
"How do you do?" She extended a hand politely with an evil grin on her face. "I'm The Ringer."
