Demi Lovato Imagines

Famous

"For the last time, I said no!" your mum shouts, the vein on her temple now protruding more than ever. You throw your head back and groan, frustrated at how unfair this whole thing is. 

"But I don't want to be here when they all arrive!"

"Tough," your mum retorts, folding her arms across her chest, the way she always does to indicate that she's not changing her mind. It has become more and more frequent since you all moved to America - your mom digging her heels in and tightening the constraints wrapped around you. Not Sarah, though. That's painfully obvious. Your older sister is allowed to go to every party, every social event, every audition...every opportunity to be seen by casting directors and other people in the industry. She's pretty much carried there in a golden carriage paid for with the remains of your savings that your parents originally meant for a college back in Australia. Guess that's the cost of being conceived second. Or maybe that's just the cost of having parents like yours. 

"Look, Y/n, you know how much of a big deal this is for Sarah. You know how career-changing this could be!"

You roll your eyes. Because, yes, of course you know. Of course it's been drilled into your head over and over across the dinner table for the past week as everyone has been making plans for what is going to be served for dinner, what is going to be talked about. Finally, a friend! A contact! your mum squealed when Sarah broke the news. This is what we've been waiting for!

It didn't escape you how vacuous this whole thing was. A friend? In the entertainment industry? Please, they're all like rabid dogs, scrambling for the next available role. If the rest of your family just lowered their blinkers and realised that your uninhibited ability to make new friends in this new country was precisely because you stayed away from acting, and singing, and dancing, and all that crap, then maybe Sarah would have had an easier time too, and not having to sweat over what outfit she's going to wear when this elusive new acquaintance comes over with her family. When she held up a pair of skinny jeans and asked you if they were nice - but, you know, not too fancy for the dinner party exactly four days away - you shook your head and huffed off, fed up of how pretentious it all was. 

You brought it all on yourselves, you want to snap back when you all sit in the living room in the evening and complain about the lack of connections made since emigrating. You were the ones driving to leave Australia, leave home, and come all the way over here, for...what? A bit part here and a part-time job as an extra on some lame soap opera? Which, of course, isn't exactly what they were hoping for at all when Sarah first suggested coming to the US for more opportunities. It all sounded so nice, and shiny, and bright six months ago when you all boarded that plane with your earthly belongings packed into your rucksack and suitcase. Now the dream is barely hanging on by a thread and you want to make that final snip and convince your parents to let you all move back. Who even wants to be famous anyway? you would have said in your imagined appeal on the matter. Who wants a life under the microscopic lens of a pap's camera? And, in your head, your parents nodded, reached over and squeezed your hands, and said Y/n, you're right. We were stupid to tear you away from everyone and everything you know and love just to satisfy Sarah's wish, we are so so sorry.  You almost thought it possible too, right up until your sister came home beaming about this new friend she made. 

"Yeah...because 'career changing' is truly the best quality one looks for in a friend," you sneer back at your mum. You don't bother elaborating. You've made your feelings about coming here perfectly clear since the day the first plans were set in motion. That's probably what grinds her gears the most, you realise. The fact that you so openly profess to hate it here yet have made all of these new friends. It's the root cause of most of the arguments in the house, her inner frustrations bubbling to the surface in heated words, accusing you of showing off, of being selfish, of taking everything for granted. It's hard to hear, sometimes. Especially coming from your own mother. But I guess you've got used to it since you've realised that the only daughter they're willing to move to the ends of the Earth for is the one that's not you.