Demi sat with her aunt and uncle in their living room. Putting on her best authoritative face, she began talking.

"Aunt Meggie, Uncle Sammy, I've come to talk to you about Kesha." She began, forcing confidence to her voice.

"We realize that, Demetria. Don't be stupid," Sam signed irritatedly.

"And her name's Kesandra not Kesha," Meg added.

"Right," Demi mumbled. "Well she's very upset about having to move. She's almost sixteen soon, she can't possibly change schools now! I'm sure Samantha told me she's got important exams this year."

"Demetria, we have to start moving around! It part of our job, for goodness sake!" Sam cried, exasperated.

"What it isn't, is any of your business!" Meg glared at her, fists clenched.

"It is if I found her in tears! She can't cope with this and it's unfair to ask her to!" Demi yelled, standing up now. "You're driving her into the ground!"

"WELL WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST WE DO, DEMETRIA!" Meg screamed, standing up and towering over Demi.

Demi was so shocked that she couldn't make herself answer.

"THEN SIT DOWN, CHILD!" Meg said, too close to her face.

"No." Demi answered, softly but coldly. "No, I will not. My mother's coming down and is packing as we speak. She will either talk you out of moving, or stay here with Kesha. Until then, Kesha's staying at a friends..."

With that, Demi left. Leaving an her astonishment aunt and uncle to process this new information.

Demi began walking towards Costa Coffee, hoping to find Kesha there.

Sadly however, she was disappointed.

Demi's next move was to text Samantha, who's number she now had, but Samantha confirmed that Kesha wasn't there either.

Exhaustedly, Demi collapsed on the nearest bench.

She knew she needed to find Kesha and tell her not to go home.

Her mother had warned her that once Kesha was home, that was it.

It would all be over, before it had even begun...

"Is this an American thing, darling? Sitting on a bench at dusk in the cold?" A voice said from behind Demi.

Demi looked up into the face of Monica.

Monica was dressed in her work clothes and her hair had now been scraped messily back, yet she still managed to look as pretty as ever.

"Monica!" Demi cried urgently. "Have you seem Kesha."

"Well sure, sweetie pie. She's at my flat sleeping," Monica said grinning.

Demi closed her eyes, feeling weak with relief.

"You wanna go see her? I'm just heading home now," Monica offered.

Demi gratefully excepted, following Monica to her small, battered and rather old red car.

"Hop in then, Lovato." She grinned, stepping aside to let Demi in first.

Demi got in, feeling a little awkward. It was no secret that Monica didn't like her.

Monica was completely aware that it was awkward and she knew why.

"I guess this is what happens when someone knows you dislike them," she chuckled. "It gets awkward."

Demi didn't answer, concentrating on looking at her feet instead.

"Demi, it's clearly no secret that I dislike you. Do you want to know why?" Monica asked, beginning to drive.

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