It's my turn. Well, it should be my turn. There's one fan in front of me who's currently getting her picture taken; She's gotten dozens of pictures taken already. She keeps blabbering on and on about how Demi has saved her life and everything. Hearing her say that causes me to feel sick on my stomach as jealousy brews.
"Demi, you have to warm up your voice now," A man informs.
Demi nods, turning to the sobbing fan. I see her lips moving but can't understand what she's telling the girl. The girl hugs Demi, clinging to her as if her life depends on it. As Demi waves goodbye to the girl, she notices me. I see her say something to the guy, glancing at me. He nods. To my surprise, she heads in the opposite direction from me, towards the stage. The man walks over to me.
"Demi wants to apologize for not being able to meet you. She told me to give you this backstage pass," He informs, handing me a laminated picture of Demi on a lanyard. 'VIP' is printed in bold along the side. I wear the lanyard around my neck. "She said that you can either wait for her in the wings of the stage, or you can wait on the bus."
"Can you lead me to the bus?" I shyly question.
He looks at me strangely, probably wondering why I want to miss the concert, but regardless, he still nods.
"Thank you," I say when we reach the massive tour bus.
"It's no problem. Demi will be here to meet you as soon as the concert is over."
I nod, watching as he retreats, leaving me to do whatever, I guess. I can hear the heavy bass and screaming fans from the arena. I hum along with the familiar music, taking a seat on the black couch. My eyelids feel suddenly heavy as last night's loss of sleep catches up to me. My eyes slowly drift close, my head droops slightly to the side. With a jolt, I force myself awake, not wanting to miss Demi's arrival. Me sleeping probably won't make a good first impression. I keep fighting sleep for I don't even know how long before I just give in to my body's wishes.
Somebody shakes me awake. I mentally curse myself for falling asleep. I open my eyes, expecting to see Demi or the guy from earlier. Instead, to my surprise, I see Jordan.
"Jordan, what are you doing here?" I groggily ask her.
My neck is stiff and aching from my awkward sleeping position.
"I could ask you the same thing," She replies with a smirk.
I stretch, hearing my bones crack and pop like Rice Krispies. Not in the mood for talking, I flash her my 'VIP' lanyard. She raises her eyebrows at it.
"Which brings me back to my original question," I say. "What are you doing here?"
She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a very familiar voice; a voice that causes my heart to flutter excitedly, yet, at the same time, causes me to feel physically ill with a nauseous feeling.
"Jordan Taylor Lovato, I thought I told you not to wake her," Demi sternly scolds Jordan.
Flabbergasted, I stare at the two of them with my jaw slack and my eyebrows raised.
"Wait, you're Demi's daughter?" I loudly blurt out, cutting off whatever Jordan's retort.
Jordan sheepishly directs her eyes to everywhere but me.
"Yeah," She mumbles.
"Don't let it go to your head," Demi sarcastically mutters.
Jordan rolls her eyes, biting her tongue I suppose.
"And you don't think you could've told me that?" I question, too angry with her to acknowledge Demi.
"I didn't think I'd see you again apart from the concert. I mean, I live in L.A. with my parents while you're stuck here in an orphanage-"
"Wait, how do you know I live at the orphanage?"
"I saw you walk from there to the bus stop, so I just assumed," She replies, embarrassed
If she's telling me the truth, why does her expression look so guilty? Why can't she make eye contact with me?
"You're lying!" I accuse, jumping to my feet. "Were you stalking me or something?"
"No!" She hastily denies, shaking her head.
I stare into her eyes, a much darker shade than mine.
"Then how did you know I lived at the orphanage? And don't you dare lie to me!"
Her expression has guilt written all over it. She gnaws on her bottom lip. I feel a wave of pity and guilt wash over me. I shouldn't be so cruel to her, but I want answers. I've been wanting answers for my whole life. She stops chewing on her lip and closes her eyes. I can see her take a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she makes direct eye contact with me. I feel as if she knows me. I feel as if my mind is being violated, as if she's rummaging through my thoughts and memories. She only says two words, but the two words sends a shiver down my spine.
"The mail," She whispers.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. Nobody moves, nobody speaks.
"You did what?" Demi hisses, causing me to wince.
Jordan licks her lips, her gaze shifting wildly to everywhere but Demi and I.
"I-I, uh, noticed you always sticking something in the mailbox every week, and, even when we were out on the road, you asked somebody to mail it out for you. One day I got curious and checked the sending address on the envelope. When I read it was going to an orphanage, I thought it was another one of your charity cases or whatever," She explains, causing me to wince.
"Am I your child or just a charity ward," I whisper, reciting the lyrics that I have long since had memorized.
"What?" Demi questions, but I know she heard me.
"Am I your child or just a charity ward?" I recite again, this time actually asking it.
It's Demi's turn to wince as her own lyrics come back to bite her.
"Am I missing something?" Jordan asks.
It is then that the light bulb goes off in my head.
"You didn't tell her?" I ask Demi. "I mean, I'm not surprised you didn't tell me since I'm nothing to you, but..." I trail off, shaking my head in disgust.
How could she keep both of her daughters in the dark for so long? Does she feel guilt? Does she feel remorse? I turn towards a utterly confused Jordan.
"We've been lied to for our whole lives. You didn't know about me, and I didn't know about you. You-"
"Hailey, shut up," Demi interrupts me.
I bitterly chuckle.
"Hailey?" I spat, shaking my head. "Nobody's called me 'Hailey' since I learned that you and I had a more complex relationship than fan and idol. When I learned the truth about you, I wanted nothing to do with you! I made the orphanage change my first and last name on all of their files. I loathed you, and, to be honest, I'm not sure whether or not that hatred and disgust ever has faded."
Her expression is wounded, but I honestly don't care. The pain she has caused me is much worse than what I am now causing her.
"I'm so confused!" Jordan exclaims in a slightly whiny tone, but, then again, who can blame her?
"We're sisters," I bluntly tell her.
"What?" She shrieks, taken aback.
"Did I stutter?" I retort, feeling slightly guilty.
I mean, it's not her fault that I'm the fucked up child that Demi didn't want.
"We're not sisters," Jordan argues.
I can't help but roll my eyes.
"Yes we are," I insist.
"You have no proof!" She yells.
"Jordan, she's not lying," Demi calmly informs.
Jordan's face drains of color. She slowly sits on the couch, her eyes wide and disbelieving, her jaw gaping. I'm worried she'll faint.
"Does Dad know?" She whispers.
I almost snort. She just discovers that she has a long lost sister, and the first thing she wants to know is if her father knows about me. Although I think it's horrible timing to ask that question, I'm curious to know the answer. I've always wanted to know who my dad is. Demi hesitates before responding.
"Neither of you need to know anything more."
"Bullshit!" I yell, my blood reaching a boiling point. "You can't just tell us we're sisters and leave it at that. It's bad enough you abandoned me, but now that I've managed to meet you, you still won't give me answers."
"I didn't abandon you."
I scoff.
"Pardon me for thinking that love is worth more than a measly one hundred bucks every week," I snap with an eye roll.
Demi takes a deep breath, obviously trying to compose herself.
"Listen to me, Hailey, or whatever the fuck your name is now, Jordan and I are going back to Los Angeles; you're going back to the orphanage. We're going to pretend like this whole encounter never happened," She tells me in an eerily calm voice. "Got it?"
I purse my lips together to form a thin line. She's really pissing me off right now.
"And if I refuse?" I calmly question, arching an eyebrow.
"There's no room for refusal because you don't have a choice."
"I can tell everybody that you're my mother, that you gave me up," I threaten, crossing my arms over my chest.
She narrows her eyes at me.
"You wouldn't dare," She states.
"Try me," I taunt.
She glares at me for a beat longer.
"There's no other choice. I can't tell my husband about you."
"Why not?" I question, honestly confused. "I've always wanted to know who my dad is."
She doesn't say anything. I stare at her, perplexed. To my surprise, Jordan speaks up.
"It's because we don't have the same dad."
"What?" I screech, wondering if this girl has lost her mind.
"Think about it. If my dad was your dad, she wouldn't of had a reason to give you up," Jordan quietly explains not at me but more to herself.
Her expression practically mimics how the gears work in her brain.
"Where are you getting at?" I ask her, even more confused before.
"I don't know," She mutters, sighing with defeat.
I feel defeated, too. There is too much drama, too many secrets. Why can't it all be in black and white? Why can't Demi just explain everything? Why does she have to act so secretive and talk in encryption?
"Like I said, neither of you need to know anything more," Demi repeats, sounding quite exhausted. "I'm going to tell the bus driver that we have to drop a fan off at the orphanage. We're going to put this entire evening behind us, and we won't look back, okay?"
I can't let her do that. I can't go back there when I'm this close to having a family of my own. I mean, sure it's a family built on lies and secrets, but it's a family nonetheless. I wrack my brain for any desperate thing to say that might make Demi reconsider. I think of something sick and twisted, but I'm desperate and desperate times cause for desperate measures.
"If you send me back to that orphanage," I pause, taking a deep breath. "I'll kill myself," I tell her, making direct eye contact, my tone serious.
Jordan gasps. Demi stares at me, contemplating on whether or not I'm lying.
"You wouldn't," She quietly states, seeming as if she's trying to convince herself that more than me.
"Are you sure?" I question with an arched eyebrow. "Because, as for as I'm concerned, death seems a hell of lot better than living a life where you know that nobody, not even your own birth mother, wants you," I truthfully argue, mentally smirking as she cringes.
She stays silent, hopefully thinking over what I said. She exhales a deep breath.
"Driver, take us to the orphanage on Columbus street," Demi shouts exceptionally loud.
I start to mentally panic. Is she honestly risking the chance of me committing suicide? I steal a glance at Jordan, who is looking at her mom-our mom-with a horror stricken face.
"Mom, are you honestly risking her life?" She shrieks.
To my relief, Demi shakes her head. I see Jordan visibly breath a sigh of relief.
"Then what are you doing?" Jordan wonders.
I curiously peer at Demi, wondering the same thing myself.
"I have to sign your adoption papers, don't I?" She asks me with a toothless smile that I return.
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