By Day and By Night

Chapter 2: Act Natural

I can hardly believe that I've been in the building twenty minutes and I've already found myself in a photo frame. Not to mention, in the office of the most important man in the whole place. So much for laying low.

I hastily pour myself some water from the jug on the desk to stop myself from shaking. There are two glasses, and Dr Preston's is already full, so I take ownership of the second.

"That was for my next meeting." He says as I finish pouring and take a sip. Why did he wait until I'd filled the glass and gulped some down?

"I'm so sorry!" Flecks of water spill out of my mouth as I apologise, and I wipe them away with my sleeve.

"No bother." Surprisingly, it sounds like he means it. It's as if he can tell I've never been in education before. Maybe he can tell. Oh god, how can he tell? He's got kind eyes, I notice. I'm not sure what necessarily makes eyes 'kind', but that's the impression I'm getting. His hairline is receding but I don't think he's more than about 40, maybe pushing 45.

I decide to down the rest of the water straight away, because I suddenly realise how thirsty I am. Part of me wonders if he got the water out of one of those filtered dispensers like we get on tour, or whether he just got it from the tap. I don't have time to consider it any more because suddenly he raps his knuckles on the desk, leans back, clasps his hands together over his stomach, and starts talking.

"So, Diana- is it alright if I call you Diana? You wouldn't prefer Di? D? D-dog?" He chuckles to himself, and I laugh along, even though I don't get the joke. Doing interviews for hours on end gets you used to fake laughing, so I'm thankful for some familiarity.

"No, no, Diana is fine, thank you," I start to relax.

"Sir." I jump to add this on at the end, momentarily remembering a Youtube video I saw where it was mentioned how important little things like that are in building your in-school reputation. I'm not sure why I'm bothered about building a reputation. I already have a worldwide one. Well, Diamond Rose does. Perhaps it's time for Diana Miller to build her own reputation. That's why I'm here, isn't it? To be my own person?

"Very well. So, welcome to Wychester. You passed the first test by navigating your way here, so that's a tick!" He mimes a tick in the air with his hand, and then begins to fumble around in the overfilled drawers to the left and right of him. Some of them don't shut again once he opens them, and he has to jam them closed again. Finally, he pulls a piece of white paper with coloured blocks all over it out from one of the drawers, and pushes it across the table to me.

"This is your timetable. Don't worry about all the colours, they just denote the different classes. Along the Y Axis is the time of day, along the X Axis, the day of the week. But I suppose you're used to this sort of system from your previous schools.

So, he doesn't know. I wonder what cock and bull story Holly came up with to get me in to this place.

Holly is my manager, and she's the scariest woman I've ever met in my life, whilst also being like a second mother to me. She's just turned 30, and I think she's having some sort of mid-life personality makeover, because recently she's swapped tea for coffee, and won't see anyone without appointment. You have to admit, managing one of the UK's biggest rising stars (yuck, I hate saying that, although it's what I've been branded with so often that the words just get stuck in my head), before you've hit 30 is a pretty big achievement. She works hard, and gets the reward, I guess. That's what she always tells me to do. Work hard now, and the future you will thank you. Seems kind of flukey, because I know that hard work doesn't always equal success.

I glance quickly back at the photo of the girl wearing the Diamond Rose t-shirt, hoping I was imagining it. Unfortunately I'm not.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it." I take the timetable, but I'm not sure what to do with it, so I just hold it in my lap whilst he continues to talk.

"We're all very pleased to have you here, Diana, and we hope your time will be filled with knowledge, fun and most importantly, friends."

The word 'friends' sounds like a foreign language to me. I had friends when I was little, obviously, but touring the world from the age of 14 somewhat limits your opportunities to form long-lasting friendships. My best friend from childhood, Beth, is the one person I think of when I hear the word "friends".

Beth and I were not next-door neighbours, but we were opposite-door neighbours. That's what we called ourselves anyway. I could see her walking her dog every morning with her dad when I got ready for school. She went to the private school, so we were never in class together, but most days we met up afterwards, to try on silly makeup and dance around in our bedrooms. I always used to think that Beth was so perfect. Her life seemed so perfect. She had one of those cliche white picket fences, and her parents used to slow dance in the kitchen.

When we were ten, Beth's house burnt down. Her parents were both inside, and they died in the blaze. I never saw Beth after that. I heard mum and dad say to some of their friends that she'd been taken to a local orphanage, but I looked and looked and never found her. I miss her.

"Do you have any questions before I let you go?" Dr. Preston jolts me back to life. The word "friends" is still swilling around in my brain and I can't help but wonder if he can see I'm upset. So, I say what my brain thinks is the appropriate thing in the moment, and then immediately regret it.

"How do I make friends?"

I sound like a child, and I realise in that moment that I am one. Despite being forced into adulthood far earlier than expected, I am still a child. No amount of world tours, make-up artists or autographs can distract from the fact that I'm still just a baby.

Dr. Preston looks taken aback by my question, and I'm not surprised. His kind eyes go wide and he shuffles about awkwardly, like a baby that's pooed in its nappy.

"Well, Diana, there's not really an answer to that. Every person is different, and every person needs different people. There are clubs you can join, events you can go to, but sometimes the best people you just stumble upon, when you're not even looking." He looks curiously at the picture of the little girl and for a split second I'm terrified he might have recognised me.

"That's my daughter. She's 8, and she asked me the same question not three days ago, crying her eyes out at how lonely she is. I wish I could have given her an answer, and I wish I could give you one, too." With that, he rises, and opens the door back into the office.

"Have a great day, Diana. If you need me, you know where to find me." I'm worried I've upset him, but as I leave, he winks at me, and his cheerful persona is restored almost as quickly as it disappeared.

I think about the little girl as I walk to my first class, which just so happens to be music, thank the Lord. I think about her smiling face, and the light in her eyes. Then I think about that light being tears instead, and it's almost like I can feel my heart break. The hustle and bustle of the corridors seems meaningless. I approach the music hall with a sudden urge to cry.

Then it dawns on me. I'm going to have to spend my whole time here pretending I can't sing.