"Demi… wake up. Get up…" I hear my uncle calling me, but I ignore him. I don't want to wake up. I remember why I did hate school.

"Wake up, punk. You're gonna be late." He starts tapping me aggressively on my arm. I swat him away.

I just need ten more minutes. That's it. Just ten. I promise I'll get up in ten minutes.

"Demetria. Do you hear me? Get out of bed before I drag you out by your feet." He smacks me a little hard on my ass then leaves. I feel like smacking him.

"Mmmh!" I grunt. I want to hurl a swear word at him, but all I can muster up is a grunt.

I guess I should get up. I don't really want to start the school year off with a tardy.

I flip my covers back off my bed and step out. Holy crap, I slept so well last night.

I yawn and walk to my bathroom. I always have to pee the first thing in the morning. I sit down on my toilet and pee. I really….really hate mornings. I kind of forget how the morning school routine goes. I guess I'll start with a shower?

I tie my hair up in a makeshift bun and start my water. I find that my stomach is hurting a little bit. I don't think I have to throw up or poop or anything. I think I'm just a little nervous. Hopefully it'll go away soon.

In the shower, I start with washing my face. I don't want to give anyone any reason to make fun of me today, so I scrub my eyes to make sure I get all the crust out. From my face, I move on to wash my body. I check my armpits. They're cleanly shaven. I reach down and check my legs too. They're nice and smooth. I finish washing my body and step out. My stomach is so jumpy.

I wrap my towel around my body and walk into my room. I haven't even thought about what I want to wear today. With my body soaking wet, I walk over to my big closet, where I stashed all my clothes away.

I don't want to dress up too much, because other people might not be that dressy, and I don't want to draw attention to myself. I decide to go casual, but nice.

I grab a pair of grey jean shorts with rips on the thighs. I pull on the pair of pink lace underwear that I got from school shopping and the matching bra. I like the bra, because it gives me some cleavage. I wiggle the shorts up to my hips. I'll need a belt, but I'm not sure what color yet, because I'll need to match my shirt.

I go back to my closet. I guess I'll wear pink today. I grab the quarter-sleeve shirt off the hanger and lay it out on my bed. The shirt has wide pink and white stripes across it, and it has A&F in the corner, written in dark blue letters.

Before the shirt, I put on a pristine white undershirt and then I throw the shirt on. I think it looks nice on me, I just wish I had more cleavage to even it out. I break off the tags on the pair of pink flip-flops that my aunt bought and slip them on.

I don't know whether I should finish my makeup or go eat. I guess finishing my makeup would be the best option, because then I can eat and then brush my teeth.

I go back to my bathroom and grab my makeup bag. I don't want to cake my face in makeup, so I just apply a light layer of foundation. I brush soft pink eyeshadow on my eyelids and do my eyeliner very carefully. Finally, I put on some mascara and that's that. I don't look too cake-faced, but I look decent. I'm not sure if I look pretty or not. I don't think I'm a very pretty person.

I yank my messy hair out of the bun I tied it up in and let it topple down my back. It takes less effort to curl my hair than to straighten it, so I plug the curling iron in and put a few loose curls in my hair. I keep my new side bangs straight, though. I think my hair looks better dark brown than it did when it was light brown with a reddish tinge to it.

Before I leave my bathroom for good, I grab my toothbrush. I'll brush my teeth downstairs. I shut my bathroom door and go back into my bedroom. I take my phone off the charger, spray myself with some perfume that I got from Victoria's Secret, and head downstairs. Jorge is waiting for me at the foot of the steps, because he slept downstairs in the cage and he can't climb the steps just yet. I pick him up easily.

"Morning Jorge."

He cries softly and licks my cheek. I sit him back down on the floor and go to the kitchen.

"I love your outfit… you look so cute." Aunt Kathy smiles wide, like she doesn't mind being up this early with me.

"Thanks…" I plop down at the island on a barstool.

"And your hair. I love the curls…" She takes a strand of my hair and strokes it between her fingers. "Are you hungry? I made you a bagel, some bacon and a fried egg. You want a sandwich? I'll make it into a sandwich for you."

"No… I want it separately." I put my toothbrush on the table next to me and grab the fork. I don't really feel like I'll be able to eat anything.

"I packed your bag for you. All your supplies are in your big bag. The green one that says Pink on it. And your purse is on the end table in the hallway."

I cut a piece of the egg off. "Thanks Aunt Kath." I nibble at the egg.

"You alright, honey?" She notices that I'm not eating much. She puts her cheek against my forehead to check if I'm warm.

"I feel fine. I'm just a little nervous."

"Okay honey." My aunt rubs my back softly and kisses my forehead softly. "I stocked your wallet up. It's in your purse. I gave you $40 to spend on lunch for the rest of the week. Is that okay?"

"Yeah…" I don't wanna seem like a baby, but I really like the loving and cuddling that my aunt is giving to me. It feels good.

"…Don't force yourself to eat if you're not hungry, sweetheart. Just make sure you eat a good lunch."

"Okay." I sip some orange juice.

"Are you ready to go?" She grabs my plate and clears it off for me.

"Yeah, I just have to brush my teeth. Hold on." I hop down off the barstool and take my toothbrush into the downstairs bathroom.

I'm so nervous to go to school. I don't want anyone to hate me. Dear god, what if they hate me?

I quickly brush over my teeth and gargle with mouthwash.

On the other hand, what if there are so many people in the school that they don't notice when they get a new kid? I'd rather go unnoticed than laughed at.

I put my toothbrush down and walk back out. "Ready." I say shakily.

"Alright, come on." Aunt Kathy hands me my lime green bag. It has black straps and it says "LOVE PINK" on it in black letters. I picked it out.

On the way out the door, I grab my light and dark brown Coach purse.

And with that, I'm off to school.

"Your name, please?" A young, blonde woman sitting at a table asks me. She's marking off names with a pink highlighter and handing out schedules.

"Demetria L..Lovato…" I nearly mumble. I've only been in the school for three minutes now, and I already want to go home. The blonde woman sifts through a pile of folders.

I look around while she sorts through everything. The school is extremely nice. It doesn't look like a high school at all. It looks more like a college campus. I guess the colors are blue and gold, because almost everything is blue and gold. I can't express how nice it is here. It's so open, with wide windows all over the place. It's very bright, and all the lockers are blue on one side, gold on the other. I really feel like I'm in college. And holy COW! There are a lot of people here. The cafeteria is filled with people comparing their schedules with each other.

"Here you are. Demetria D. Lovato." The blonde woman hands me a yellow folder with my name printed in the top right hand corner. "You are going to be in Mr. Carrison's homeroom. You're new here, so once you get to your homeroom class, Mr. Carrison will tell you who you will be shadowing for today. Enclosed in your folder is a map of the school and a copy of your schedule. When the bell rings, just head to your homeroom class. Come see me if you have any further questions. I'm Kasi Abrahams, the guidance counselor."

"Thank you…." I take the folder and find an empty corner to examine my schedule in. I take the map and my schedule from the folder and look at both of them. The map is extremely confusing. The school is so big that it has six floors to it. Luckily, there aren't steps. In place of steps, there are ramps. I look at my schedule.

In the top right hand corner, it has my name: Lovato, Demetria D, my address: 819 Seabreeze Avenue and my aunt's phone number. I look at what classes they threw me into. When I came in here to get registered, the guidance counselor told me they'd place me in the classes they feel I should be in, based on my transcripts.

I have Mr. Carrison for homeroom.

First period: Advanced Algebra 3 & Trigonometry

Second period: College Prep English

Third period: Art 2 & Drawing

Fourth period: Spanish 3

Fifth period: Lunch

Sixth period: Chemistry Lab Course

Seventh period: Honors Chemistry

Eighth period: World History & Geography

Ninth period: Study Hall

It doesn't seem that hard to remember. I'm just a little bit worried about whether or not I'll find all these rooms.

In the middle of my thoughts, the bell rings from above. The bell isn't really a bell at all. It's a loud buzzing noise. When the buzzing noise sounds, the hallways flood. I just find a group to blend in with.

The good thing about this is that I'm not over or under dressed. I look pretty normal compared to what all the other girls are wearing. And they all have coach purses and victoria's secret bags. I blend in nicely.

I look down at the room number for my homeroom. My homeroom is number H105. I look at all the doors I'm passing. H101… H102… 103…. 104… 105.

At the dead end of the hallway is room H105. I round the corner into the room and walk in. There are lots of empty desks to sit at. I'm not the first one in the room; I'm the fourth. I look over at the wall. There isn't a chalkboard in the room. There is only a dry erase board. Written on the dry erase board in black marker, it says "Welcome Junior Class! Please come in and find your seat."

I walk around in a circle, looking for the desk that has my name on it. I find my seat. Right next to the window, right beside the teacher's desk. I sit down quickly.

I take this free time to look through my folder. I hardly notice all the people filing in around me. In my folder, there are many things. My student handbook, a lunch menu, an extra copy of my schedule, my bus pass; even though I don't ride the bus, my student ID card and a pencil.

The loud, annoying buzzer sounds again and it hurts my ears. But when I look up, I notice that all the desks around me are filled. The good thing is that nobody is staring at me.

The man who I assume is Mr. Carrison stands up in front of the class. He has lush blonde hair, honey brown eyes and muscles like Uncle Jason. He looks very young, and I think I have a slight crush on him.

"Good morning and happy first day of school. I'm Mr. Carrison, your homeroom and math teacher. I teach all math classes for juniors. Those of you who are in here will have me twice in a row. For homeroom and for first period Algebra and Trig." He paces back and forth. "I know first days are usually to give you guys the rules and guidelines of class, but I'll be truthful with you." He sits down on a stool in the corner and slouches. "I don't have any rules. Just don't get too out of hand. You're all juniors. You know what's appropriate for school and what's not."

Around the room, people chuckle and give him thumbs up. He's so hot and he's cool. I already have a favorite teacher.

"So I see some familiar faces around here. I've had many of your brothers and sisters in the past." He goes over to his desk and grabs a stack of white paper. "And I see some unfamiliar faces too." He looks specifically at me. I feel my cheeks turn red.

Everyone around me isn't paying attention to me, which is good. I pick at the corner of my folder, bored and nervous.

"So to get to know the familiar and unfamiliar faces… we're going to have… a snowball fight."

I pick my head up. I don't want to have a snowball fight. I don't even like snow.

"I'm passing out a sheet of paper to all of you. With this sheet of paper, I would like you all to write three things about yourselves, NOT INCLUDING YOUR NAME. When you have your three facts, wad your paper up in a ball and wait for further instructions."

I grab my sheet of paper. I don't know what three facts I want to write. I grab a pencil out of my bag and pump the lead into it.

For my first fact, I scribble down: My Birthday is August 20.

I tap the eraser of my pencil down as I think of another fact. I'm not an interesting person. I don't have a lot of facts to write.

For my second fact, I write: I hate my full name.

The third fact is the hardest. What all can I say about myself? My name is Demi. I live with my aunt and uncle. I miss my sisters. My mom is dead and I hate cancer.

For my third fact, I write down: I like to draw and color.

I bawl my paper up into a ball and wait for him to say something else.

"Now… I want you all to stand up. And when I count to three, start throwing your "snowballs" (he does air-quotes with his hands) at each other. Have a little fun, okay?"

I stand up from my chair along with everyone in the room.

"1….2….3!"

It's like he unleashed lions in a cage. Everyone starts whizzing their snowballs at each other, having way too much fun. Nobody throws their snowballs at me.

I toss mine into the mess of everyone "fighting" and stand in the corner. I pick at my thumbnail, because that's what I do when I'm nervous. I just watch everyone.

Almost as if he's mad I'm not participating, Mr. Carrison throws a stray snowball at me. It hits me in my ribs.

I crack a soft smile, to show that I'm not a bitch or anything. I bend down and grab the snowball. I whizz it back at him and take his hint to participate a little more. I step into the crowd and throw another stray paper ball at some kid with curly hair. Someone even throws one back at me. Maybe this could be fun.

"ALRIGHT! SNOWBALL FIGHT, OVER!" Mr. Carrison shouts and holds his hand up. "EVERYONE GRAB THE CLOSEST SNOWBALL TO THEM AND TAKE YOUR SEAT."

I bend down and grab a snowball. I sit back in my seat with it. It takes everyone a moment, but we all quiet back down.

"Now… uncrinkle your snowball and share with the class who's snowball you think it is."

I uncrumple mine from the paper ball. On the paper, it says: 1. I have no brothers and sisters. 2. I have three dogs :) 3. I love cheerleading!

Okay, so I definitely got a girl's snowball. Out of the 25 students in the classroom, 11 are girls. I have 11 to choose from.

"Let's start with Lacey. Lacey, stand up and share the facts with us. Then tell us who's snowball you think you got." Carrison is sitting back on his stool.

A skinny blonde girl stands up. She's really, really pretty. I'd kill to have her hair. "My snowball says: I love my girlfriend, I hate green beans and I love to play baseball…. And I think I got Alex's snowball." Her voice reminds me of Dallas's voice.

"Alex, did Lacey get your snowball?" Carrison asks.

"Nope. That isn't mine." A kid with dark brown, spiked hair says. He's kinda cute.

"Who's snowball did Lacey get?" Carrison asks the entire class.

"Mine." A skinny little curly-haired boy raises his hand. I don't listen to his name.

Lacey throws her snowball away and sits back down. She seems pissed that she didn't guess the right person. I just hope I learn everyone's names.

"Selena. You're next." Carrison points to a tan-skinned, dark brown, curly haired girl. My god, she's so pretty. I can tell that she's hispanic or something.

"The snowball I got says: My birthday is August 20. I hate my full name. And I like to draw and color. And… I think I got…. Allison's snowball? I'm not sure." She shakes her head. I feel my cheeks flush again.

"Allison? Did Selena get your snowball?" Asks Carrison.

"No. That isn't mine." Another girl with dark hair speaks up. Her hair is short, but she is so tan.

"Who's snowball did Selena get?" Carrison stands up from his stool.

I slowly lift up my hand. "…Mine." I mutter.

"Ahh… the new girl. You hate your full name?"

I nod at him.

"You don't like to be called Demetria, Miss… L…Lo…"

"Lovato…." I help him out with my last name. "And no…"

"Then my apologies. What would you like for us to call you?"

"…Demi, please. Just D-E-M-I."

"Demi it is. And if I'm not mistaken…." He looks down at a clipboard. "Miss Gomez… is going to be who you're shadowing today."

I get to shadow the pretty girl.

I look over at her.

To my immense relief, she shoots me a warm smile.

Hopefully…. This is a sign of a friend.