"Jordan..you promised you'd come with me to the set today!" My younger cousin Demi Lovato whined from the bathroom. Her mom, and my aunt Renee took me in when I was about five, and Demi was four. My parents went away for a weekend, and well, we haven't heard from them since. Sorry, if you were expecting that they died horribly in a car crash. No, my parents simply dumped me on my Aunt and Uncle's doorstep, leaving them to raise me, along with their own child Demi. Ever since then, Demi and I have been like sisters, we do everything together, we're literally glued to the hip. And strange thing is, I always get mistaken for being Demi, for being cousins, we look strangely alike. So when I tell them we're actually cousins, they think I'm lying, that we're sisters. We may not be
blood sisters, but we're sisters at heart. Oh by the way, I'm Jordan Lovato, seventeen years young, currently residing in Canada with Demi and my Aunt Lucy, while Demi films for the upcoming disney movie, Camp Rock.
"Demi, I really don't want to be stuck in your dressing room all day." I complained as I laid face up on the hotel room, my head falling over the edge of the mattress.
Demi sighed, she was annoyed, I could tell. I could hear her throw something into her make up bag, as she walked out of the bathroom, wearing the residue of her seaweed mask, "You're coming with me Jordy! Right mom?"
Compared to Demi, I was shy. Not that I completely kept to myself all time time, I just didn't get quite as loud as she could. Aunt Lucy had already told Demi that she couldn't literally force me to go with her, plus I had been having too much fun catching up on all my reading and homework. Aunt Lucy walked in from her adjoined room, snapping on her earrings, and said, too bubbly for my liking, "Right Demi."
"But Aunt Lucy.." I started.
"No but's Jordan, you've been stuck in this room for the past week. You need to get out, smell the fresh air. And visiting the set with us today would be the perfect way."
"But I have so much home-"
"Don't even start Jordan," Demi interjected, "You finished all your school work on Tuesday."
My eyes become slits, as I stared down my cousin, "You were on my laptop."
She shrugged her shoulders, "Had to make sure you had no excuses."
Demi had ditched me within the first five seconds of arriving on set. She needed to get into make up and wardrobe as the short annoying plump lady told her, before we had even exited the limo. Aunt Lucy of course went with her, I opted not to see my cousin getting all dolled up. So instead I wandered around the set, passing other kids who looked around my age, girls and boys alike. There was even a little kid there, who looked about seven, being chased by three older looking boys. One with curly hair, and two with longish straight hair. They all looked sort of familiar as they all ran past me, hot on the trail of the youngest boy.
I continued on my tour of the set, when I turned to my left when I heard someone scream "Frankie watch out!" The little boy from earlier was running backwards right toward me, as his body and mine collided, crashing to the ground, with the skinny little boy landing on top of me. I could hear the footsteps of the three other boys approach. And I thought maybe if I kept my eyes close, they would assume I'm dead and leave me to rot. But these boys had obviously been raised with enough manners, to scoop the young boy off of me, "Demi are you alright?"
And there we went with the whole mistaken identity ordeal. My eyes opened, seeing four boys looking at me, one squatting beside me. My eyes must have been the dead give away, "Demi did you get contacts?" The curly haired boy looked at me confused as he scratched his head. And the one squatting down next to me, reached out, pushing my bangs to the side, "You're not Demi, she has brown eyes, not blue."
I shook my head in the negative, "No, I'm not. I'm-"
"Jordan! Come here real quick! I have to show you something!" It was my aunt, I turned to look over my shoulder, but couldn't see her. But I knew if I ignored her, she would only get louder.
"I'm sorry, I've gotta go." I said pushing myself from the ground and wiping at my jeans as I turned to walk away.
"Hold on, wait," the boy called out.
I turned, "I'm sorry I can't." Then returned to my run to my aunt's calling voice.
"Wait!" he called after me, but I didn't stop, just kept running, soon meshing in with the hustling crowd.
you're my wonderwall.
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