Seven : sinking in the spotlight
• in which demi's Sister is forced into the school drama club, and when the show comes to an end with a special appearance from Demi herself she realizes that she doesn't live for the performance she lives for the relationships made along the way
"I don't even know why you're making this such a big deal." You whined softly as you shoved through another Biology textbook. Your room was a mess of books and crumbled up pieces of looseleaf that all failed to inform you of information you craved to retain. "I have too much going on to focus on some stupid play, Mom."
Dianna laughed softly as she bent down and picked up yet another crumbled sheet of paper that you threw in her direction. Scribbled on the front was a black ballpoint mess all resembling the stages of Mitosis. You knew Mitosis, you knew that you knew it as well, but just when you thought that you knew the stages well enough the horror of failing the CSB slipped through your fingers like sand and you were back to the trench of studying shit you already knew.
"You know this, baby. Come on, have you even opened the script? I'm sure it can't be that bad, Mads says you've been crammed up here all day." Dianna brushed your honey hair from your eyes, pressing a cold kiss to your burning skin that repeatedly heated in self induced frustration.
"Mom." You sighed turning to look at her whilst simultaneously closing the notebook, your eyes trailing over the dreaded white threaded script. You were nothing short of a mess when it comes to the arts, so the fact that you alone maintain six parts and over eight costume changes, you didn't understand why you've still given your effort into worrying and sticking through the process of creating a production. "Will you send Dal up at least then?"
Dianna smiled beamingly, dancing with ease out of the door and down the stairs calling for your oldest sister who had yet to come and lecture you about the needed preparation for your upcoming production. You flipped open the script, standing and walking towards your bed when Dallas popped her head in, a graceful smile on her typically mischievous face.
"What are we getting ourselves into tonight, P?" Dallas asks as she sits beside you, her hand brushing yours as she trailed over the lines trying to find one of the parts she'd memorized. Dallas was devoted to your success, she always had been and you adored her for that amongst other things. She always had your best interests in mind, and with true kindness and affection she put everything else aside to help you succeed.
You laid your head on Dallas' shoulder, your knees meeting your chest as you yawned in exhaustion from the continuous studying you'd taken part in. Finally having a break your body began to shut down without much room for opposing otherwise.
"I have no lines, it's not like I'm missing much not reading the script. You learn to face the moment better when you have no choice but to learn it on the spot." You mumbled to Dallas who sent you a glare, your words contradicting the entirety of her self-built carrier. Maybe you shouldn't tell an acting coach that you had no intents or actually acting; you'd play the true element of surprise.
"Come on, it's important to do something with your high school experience. God knows I didn't do enough, I had my head in the clouds chasing highs and gigs." Dallas trips you with guilt at her sudden summery of her teenage years. Often you'd lie away wondering just what Demi and Dallas' father was like, he was never that bad in your eyes but you'd also been known to face evil with nothing but positive thoughts. You'd believe in no hurt until the hurt faced you physically.
"Fine, just go over the music with me." you retaliated and flipped open the second binding book, skimming through the keys and clips until stumbling upon your trouble areas. You weren't good with sheet music, you grew up with Demi training your ear. You couldn't tell an A from an F on paper, but played gracefully through your ears it was clear as day the difference. It was still funny to you how all these years later with Demi's profession partially being singing and songwriting how she still couldn't read a note.
