Not Team Mindless? *A Mindless Behavior Story*

"No, I'm not going. And that's final." I spat at my sister, who was begging literally on her knees her blonde hair bouncing as she jumped a bit to give it more emphisize.

"Please, come on! You wouldn't want to me to go alone. Now would'ya?" Brooklyn asked.

"How many times do I have to tell you? No! Besides if I did go who would take care of Ryan?" I asked nudging to the four year old with brown hair in my arms his head resting on my shoulder, his legs wrapped around my waist on the side.

"We can..."--she got up from her knees, now walking back and forth in the living room-- "We can ask Avery my friend if she can take care of him. Come on, please Gabby? I already got the tickets it would be two hundred dollars go to waste."

"Your loss." I muttered walking away from the living room and going to my small little room.

Placing him down gently on the bed, I heard Brook take a shaky breath out of the room and finally walking in.

"I'm just asking for one thing Gab..." she mumbled a tear escaping her glossy dark eyes.

I felt bad, maybe I am being to harsh on Brook. And, finally, hesitantly sighed pulling her close into a hug and running my hand through her wavy hair. "Fine, just on one condition."

"Anything."

"Nothing slutty, or trashy. You hear me."

She nodded in response.

*

On the day of the big Mindless Behavior concert, Avery came to pick up Ryan an hour early so that we--more like Brooklyn--could get ready.

"Are you ready yet?" I called through our old wooden house, my voice slightly echoing.

"Yup!" Brook shreiked stepping out into the living room. She had booty shorts, meaning it looked more like a bathing suit with high a waisted band. She had a pink sports bra that quoted 'F*ck Me'! To innapropriate for my sixteen year old sister.

"Change. Now." I hissed getting up from the couch. Brook simply put her hands on her hips and kissed her teeth, obviously irritated.

"Why?"

"What was our deal we made?" I asked, raising in eyebrow.

"Fine," she walked away and I heard her groan.

"If you want we don't have to go!" I called out, and in response another groan.

Finally after what seemed like ages she came back, with some black shorts, her purple levis, and a comfy looking shirt that had crooked writting with black '#TeamMindless' her blonde hair in ringlets.

"Better," I sighed, looking down on my own outfit: a tang top with a heart in the middle, fitting loosely, my shorts, and my converse, my hair in a high ponytail. "Let's go."