Disclaimer. I don't own anything.

Chapter 1

That's it. I'm gone, I'm leaving, and I'm out of here. I'm leaving on a jet plane and I don't know when I'll be back again.

I thought it would feel more…final then this.

I want say goodbye, but everyone's acting like it's nothing. Well, I guess they have a right. They don't even know. That I'm leaving, I mean. No one does, except me. I didn't tell anyone before now because if I did, well, that would defeat the purpose of me leaving to begin with. But I should back up and explain everything first.

Hello, my name is Miley Stewart and I am in deep, deep trouble.

I'm fifteen years old and pregnant. Yeah, like Jamie Lynn, but a whole year younger.

You're probably thinking "you're just an average girl, how can you compare yourself to a celebrity?" Well, I am a celebrity. By day Miley Stewart, by night teen pop sensation Hannah Montana.

Up until now, anyways.

Now, I'm too scared to face my dad or my boyfriend or anyone, so I'm running away. Yeah, yeah, I know, what about "nobody's perfect" or "I got nerve"? Well, you try being in my position. Then judge.

So, anyways, I am now running away. Far, far away. I'm actually on the plane, right now. We're thirty minutes away from our destination, which is Boston.

I bet now you're asking how I can afford a plane ticket. Well, if you're smart you'll put together the "Hannah Montana" thing to mean that I'm pretty stinkin' rich. Honestly, I wasn't supposed to get the money until I was at least eighteen. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I didn't take all of it anyways. I didn't even take half. I just took enough so that I can get myself on my feet. Maybe a small apartment. Enough so that I don't have to stress over money the first second I land. I have so much more to stress over.

I don't even know how far along I am. I've never visited a doctor and I honestly don't know if I will ever. I haven't thought anything through. That's what I planned to do on the plane ride, but I just spent the whole time worrying about job interviews and finding a place to live.

I do know that I'm somewhere from five to seven months and I'm just showing. Actually, I'm showing quite a bit, but it's easily hide-able between sweatshirts and jackets.

By now, you're probably thinking that I'm not taking care of myself, but I am! I've gone through a million websites. I know that I'm eating healthy and gaining the right amount of weight and everything. I just don't know if the baby's okay. And that's scary. Because if anything matters right now, it's the baby. Why do you think I ran away? I ran because I was scared of how my dad would treat the baby. (He's great, but Lord does that guy have a temper!) I was scared that I wasn't going to raise the baby my way.

So now I'm off to Boston. Why Boston? Because it was the first place I though of. I came to Boston once as Hannah, and everyone was really, really nice to me. I know that it won't be the exact same since I'm average-pregnant-teen instead of top-charting teen pop-sensation, but still.

The plane's landing now, and everyone's beginning to move. I'm so stiff after the flight. Since I'm in one of the very back rows, I take time to stand and stretch, making sure not to bump my head against the upper luggage compartment or my stomach against the seat in front. It takes a long time for me to reach the front of the plane, but I'm used to it. As Miley (but for Hannah) I've had to go through many an airport.

I quickly collect my luggage and hail myself a taxi. Before long I'm standing alone in front of the Tipton. Everything's how I remember it, but I'm still shaking with nerves. I can barely carry my own luggage, although it is a lot. Who said a girl had to pack light? I know I should go easy with the carrying things, but I think this can be an exception.

Damn nerves. I've been out here, waiting, for two hours. No one's coming. No one's taking me home. I have to go in if I want a job, a place to stay.

I can see them inside. That manager guy is talking to this woman who looks to be in her later thirties. She's in a nice dress; I think she's the performer tonight. They keep pointing at me. On the other side of the lobby are twin boys. They look to be about my age. One's doing skateboard tricks (without a helmet) and the other's finishing some homework. Every now and then I can catch the eye of the skateboarding one; I think he thinks I'm cute.

Oh no. Here comes that lady. And the twins seem to be listening too. I think they're her kids, if I remember correctly. But she pushes them away before walking towards me again. I stand up to face her.

"Hello?" she greets.

"Hi." I stammer meekly, not quite meeting her gaze.

"Look…" she seems to be searching for the right words…"Mr. Mosby, the manager, asked me to come out here and see why you're here. He says that you've been standing out here for hours now.

"Just two." I answer quickly, not even glancing at my watch.

"Sweetie, what's your name?"

"Miley." I answer quickly.

"Okay, Miley, do you want to come inside?" I can only nod as she helps me schlep my bags in. We sit down together on the couch, my bags at our feet. I can feel the gaze of Mr. Mosby on my back, making me all the more nervous. But I don't focus on that. Instead, I watch the twins. The one with the skateboard seems to be talking to the candy counter girl…about me. The other one is still diligently reading. "So, Miley, why are you here?" she asks.

"I was hoping to get a r-room." I answer. "And I job."

"Miley, how old are you?" she asks disbelievingly.

"Fifteen?" I answer.

"And why in the world are you here?"

"I ran away." I answer, not looking at her anymore.

"because?" She prompts. Definitely a mother.

"Because I'm pregnant."

I could tell that she was expecting something else. She sighs kindly. "Do your parents know?"

"I left my dad a note." I answer honestly.

"Okay, hunny." She says sadly. "I'll talk to the manager about a job and a room for you, okay? Do you have any idea of what kind of job you'd be good at?"

"I can sing." I offer. "But I'll do anything, really."

"Okay." She sighs and stand, I watch her as she talks to the man that could very well be my boss in the near future. They don't really seem to get along. Eventually, they both come over and I stand to shake Mr. Mosby's hand.

"Miley, I think we have a room for you and a job as a waitress. But Carrie said that you can sing. Can you sing me a few bars?" I nod, preparing my throat before I begin. Everyone's eyes turn to me as I belt out the first stanza of "This Is the Life". By the time I'm done he's cheering.

"Carrie, I think we have someone to fill in the day's you don't work!" he exclaims.

"You sound just like Hannah." She comments, smiling.

"Thank you." I mutter, staring at my feet…or where I know my feet are.

Before I know it I have a room, a job, and a "conference". I'm here on the fact that Carrie… Ms. Martin… will be my "guardian" in all the ways they care about. If I make any big decisions, I have to run it past her. She's going to help in enroll in school and manage the baby. And make sure I call dad tomorrow and every week in the foreseeable future. But we'll talk more in detail tomorrow. Surprisingly, I fall asleep nearly the second my head touches the soft pillow. It really has been a tiring day.

Author's Note. Welcome to my story. I hope you like it. If I get any Suite Life facts wrong, please tell me, I don't generally watch the show. So…since the next couple chapters are already written. # of days until next chapter is published 20 - # of reviews within twenty-four hours of first published. Basically, the more reviews, the faster the updates. If the number is extremely large or small, I'll change "20" in the next chapter. Hope I haven't confused you!