(Sierra's POV)
Demi opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the shrill ringing of her cell phone. I glance down at the phone, which is still clutched in my palm.
"It's Dallas," I inform, thrusting the phone towards her.
Demi rolls her eyes, taking the phone from me.
"Hello?" she answers in a less than enthused tone.
Her gaze meets mine as her eyes widen.
"What? Dallas, calm down."
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and slight worry.
"How dare you accuse me of-" she pauses.
"Put her on speaker," I mouth to Demi.
She nods, removing the phone from her ear and tapping the screen a couple of times.
"I want a straightforward answer, Demi," Dallas' strict tone surprises me. "Have you relapsed like a bunch of blog sites, and even some of your fans, are suggesting?"
"Of course not! I would never go back to that."
I shake my head in disappointment. Is Demi ever going to stop lying to everyone?
"Are you sure?" Dallas persists.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Do you swear on your life?"
"Yes, I promise. I swear on my life. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Okay, well, mom wants you and Sierra here within the next hour or so. She wants to talk to you two. Sierra, especially."
I bite my tongue, silently wondering what Dianna wants to talk to me about. Did I do something wrong? What if she suspects my issues?
"About what?" Demi curiously inquires.
"I have no idea, but it sounded kind of urgent."
"Oh," Demi frowns, shooting me a confused glance that I return. "Well, okay. We'll see you soon. Bye."
"Wilmer, do you have a shovel?" I question, rising to my feet. "I'm gonna start digging a grave for Demetria here since she so easily promised a lie on her life."
"Oh, shut up, Sierra," Demi scoffs.
"What do you think our mom wants to talk to us about?" I change the subject.
"I don't know, but it can't be anything too bad."
"She said that it was urgent," I remind her.
"Mom always says that," she smiles, her statement news to me. "In fact, the last time she said it was..." she pauses, her smile dropping.
"Right before your parents told you that you needed to go to Timberline Knolls," Wilmer finishes for her.
"Yeah," she whispers, her face draining of color and morphing into a panicked expression. "What if they tell me to go back? I won't go. I can't handle that again. I don't need help. I'm fine."
I gently shush her as her breathing picks up in speed.
"Demi, calm down," I softly order.
"Demi," Wilmer claims the spot where I was previously sitting. "Nena, breathe."
Tears glide down her flushed cheeks as he places a hand on her shoulder.
"Breathe," he repeats.
"Breathe
Just breathe
Take the world off your shoulders and put it on me
Breathe
Just breathe
Let the life that you live be all that you need" I quietly sing.
"What was that?" Demi questions softly, sniffling.
"Just a song," I mutter.
My knowledge of music has grown immensely since being adopted by the De La Garzas. I've spent hours watching videos on YouTube of various artists and bands as well as interviews. I've also been able to purchase ridiculous amounts of digital music as well as many physical albums.
"Sing it."
"I can't sing."
"Everyone can sing."
"I can't sing well."
"Neither can I."
I shoot her a deadpan expression.
"Please?" she flashes me a puppy-dog face. "I'll play it so that you won't have to sing it a cappella."
"Fine," I sigh.
"Yay!" she squeals. "Title?"
"Breathe by Ryan Star."
She taps away on her phone, and soon the familiar music begins to play.
"She's fine most of the time. She takes her days with a smile. She moves like a dancer in lights, spinning around to sound, but sometimes she falls down. Breathe, just breathe. Take the world off your shoulders, and put it on me. Breathe, just breathe. Let the life that you live be all that you need..."
"You're not a bad singer, Sierra," Demi shakes her head. "Not even close."
I just shrug, flickering my gaze to the floor.
"Ooh, this song looks interesting," Demi chirps, returning her attention to her phone.
I smile in amusement. She acts like such an excited child sometimes. Plus, her short attention span only emphasizes her sometimes innocent, sometimes carefree personality.
"Do you two want some breakfast?" Wilmer asks.
Like a light switch, Demi's childlike demeanor vanishes.
"Um..." she hesitates, and I look at her with a hopeful expression that she can't see since she is staring blankly at her phone. "Yeah," she whispers before looking up and nodding.
I break into a wide grin.
"I'd help-" she says, "but-"
"But we don't want my house to burn down," Wilmer chuckles.
"You're such an asshole," she laughs. "Fuck you."
"You probably already have," I cheekily smirk.
She chucks a pillow at me.
"Don't pelt me with pillows, Demetria!"
"Try saying that five times fast," she sticks her tongue out.
As Wilmer heads to the kitchen, I claim a seat beside my sister on the couch.
"That's a good song, in my opinion," I point at one of her suggested videos.
"It looked interesting."
"Play it!"
She giggles at my eagerness before tapping the video.
"You stand with a gun in your hand
Staring at the wall with a look so sad
And thinking about who really cares
Will they even notice if I just disappear now"
Demi pauses the video.
"I think I've heard this song before," she murmurs.
"Thanks for sharing," I dryly respond. "Now, resume video."
She rolls her eyes with a small smile before tapping play.
"One bang
Blood rush to the head
She'd rather fly through the sky than walk with the dead
So she stays high while the world goes by
Just another day here waiting to die
Life is beautiful
Share a little love with the whole wide world
Every boy and girl sing along when we sing why oh why oh"
Demi snaps her fingers, as if a light bulb just went off in her head. She begins to sing the lyrics, although her voice is a little more uncertain than mine, but I have this song memorized by heart whereas she doesn't.
"She cries but her man denies
It's funny how love comes with so many lies
And he said he'd never do it again
So she puts on a smile and she starts to pretend
She hides all the pain inside
By filling up her arms with pretty little lines
She cuts with no intent to kill
This time she didn't do it but someday she will"
"You two listen to some interesting music," Wilmer comments.
"Interesting?" I quirk an eyebrow. "We prefer the term badass."
Demi laughs.
"Well, badass número uno y número dos, breakfast is ready."
I resist a groan and rise to my feet.
"Wait," Demi orders.
She'd better not be backing out.
"Who's badass number one, and who's badass number two?"
"Does it matter?" I chuckle in relief.
"Duh! I'm obviously number one," she jokingly flips her hair.
"Arrogant much?" I tease.
"Arrogant?" she feigns a gasp. "Bitch, please, I'm fabulous," she struggles to maintain a snobby accent, giggles escaping her lips on the last word.
I hum in amusement.
"Come on," I take her hands and pull her up onto her feet with disturbing ease. "Let's go eat."
Once we're seated at the table, I shovel around the scrambled eggs on my plate and poke at my bowl of fruit salad. I steal a glance at Demi only to see her doing the same thing.
"Eating should not be this difficult," I groan, slouching in my chair.
Demi remains silent.
"What are you thinking about?" I wonder.
"Just... I know nothing about you."
That's not the response that I was expecting.
"What do you mean? Of course you know stuff about me! What's my favorite color?"
Silence.
Okay... so maybe she doesn't know some of the basics...
"Black," I tell her. "And turquoise. Um, what are some of my hobbies?"
She pulls her signature thinking face.
"You told Dallas that you like to read and play soccer. You also said that you like to draw and paint as well as sing."
I clap loudly, and she gently shoves me.
"I'm surprised that you remember that day."
"How can I not?" she snorts. "I was such a bitch."
"You've changed?" I feign a confused expression.
She dryly laughs while flipping me off. I chuckle and stab some of the eggs, bringing the fork to my lips.
"How was your life before, you know... before my parents adopted you?"
I force myself to swallow.
"Uh, it was okay. I mean, there's always someone who has it worse than you do, right?" I crack a small, fake smile and stab a chunk of pear.
"That's not what I asked."
"Well..." I sigh. "I don't have any recollection of my father. He died when I was a toddler, supposedly in a car crash. My mom-" I pause, closing my eyes. "My mom didn't take his death well at all. She couldn't cope. She, uh, she started going to parties and drinking and doing drugs," I mumble.
"I'm sorry."
"I don't like sympathy."
"I'm sorry for prying."
The corners of my mouth quirk upwards.
"Don't be," I say softly, pausing for a minute before I continue. "CPS picked me up and shipped me off when I was nine. I haven't heard from my mom since then."
Demi hums thoughtfully. We continue to eat in silence, slowly but surely. Suddenly, the doorbell chimes, startling me.
"Expecting someone?" I look at Wilmer.
"No," he mumbles, shaking his head. "Nobody at all. Do you think it's Dallas?" he wonders, walking towards the front door.
"God I hope not," Demi mumbles.
Upon hearing the front door open, I turn in my chair and peer over Demi's shoulder, struggling to see who rang the bell.
"Who is it?" I continue to squirm.
"It's her," Demi spits.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
