Author Games - Ghost Town

Interview - Averlyn Lacey

He hadn't said a thing. Not one word. To me at least.

My brother Alex, who I hadn't even remeberd existed, wouldn't talk to me. I would try to say something and  he would walk away. Cayden tried to tell me something about him, but I cut him off saying I would figure it out myself. Now I wish I would have listed to him. My own twin volunteers, to help save me I guess. That's what my stylist says. Still, I feel that it's a lie. Something is being kept from me.

"So, how do you like it?"

My attenchin is pulled to my supposed stylist, Pop-Sir. I wasn't sure if he was my stylist. I didn't see my stylist the day of the parade. She was sick. Which made me wonder. Why was he a guy? Either way, A very perfect name for a terrible stylist.

"What is that?" I said discussed, staring at the horrifying trash in front of me. It was a black dress that I would have been able to afford in district 5.

"Do you not like it?" He lifted the dress off my bed and held it out. "Very pretty!" These people have the strangest accent.

"No! That looks like it came from the trash! Aren't you a stylist? Black isn't a good color for the interviews! Pink, green, blue! Even white is better," I screamed. I looked up at my stylist. "Go get someone else to make me something else. This is unacceptable. Make sure the new outfit is pink!"

My stylist seemed scared. He quickly nodded his head. He tripped running out the door. I sighed. I sat on the edge of my bed. I threw the dress in the trash, where it belonged. After that, all there was to do was wait.

~~~~~Thirty Minutes Later~~~~~

A girl with light pink hair, pink tinted skin, a hot pink pan suite, and something in her hand, walked in.

She smile at me. "Hello Averlyn. Sorry about him. Some strange drunk capital citizen," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, I'm Pinky, your real stylist. I wasn't supposed to be here till now. Sorry if you thought you would be late. Anyways, let me show you your outfit!" She squealed. Oh Joy. An over excited stylist.

She laid out a pink dress. Exactly me without even talking to her once. It was a strapless down to my ankles dress. At the top it had pink beads that glimmered in light. The beads faded slowly until at the bottom there was none. The pink was between a hot pink and a light pink. Just normal old pink. But still, it was great. A lot better than a black funeral dress.

She also showed me some pink high heels. One inch high, normal old pink heels. Perfect.

"Thanks. A lot better than that old man!" We both laughed.

With in the next hour I was down stairs. We ha done some makeup, pink eye shadow, lipstick, the normal interview makeup.

I stood between two silent people. My brother and Phineus Flanch. I tried talking to Alex, but he said nothing to me. He instead stared at me. I started it get chills. His eyes seemed to make me recall any bad memory I had. Including my mothers death.

The only memory I have of my brother played. He was sitting alone on the other side of the kitchen table, flipping a knife around in his hand. That's all I remember. The more I thought about it, the more I hoped my brain was wrong. He wasn't here to help me, he was here to kill me.

Phineus moved up to go on to his interview. That meant I was stuck with Alex until it was my turn to go on. I turned to talk to him, but he put his hand over my mouth.

"Shut up you little perfect princess. I'm tired of listening to your annoying voice," whispered Alex. He turned me around, then removed his hand.

Me being me, I turned back around. "What the heck! I'm not a perfect princess! No one calls me that, got it?"  I threaten, grabbing the collar of his tux. "Never call me that again."