A/N: First story. Hope it's alright.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana or any related characters. No profit is being gained by this story.
I could stare at the stars forever, I really could. The way they twinkle, as if they're embers in a fire. I can see everything, since there's no light around me. I almost wish I could be an astronaut, going up into space, the unknown. I don't think astronauts get enough credit. They go through like years and years of training, but finally, on the day they get to go into space, their spaceship engine could explode or whatever, and boom, dead.
Would their bodies float around in space forever, forgotten? Ew, that's gross. But I can't help but laugh a little about the thought. Just imagine waking up in the morning and hey, a dead guy.
But back to real life.
I'm in this field in the middle of nowhere. In Tennessee. If you've ever been here, then you'll notice that there's miles and miles of just nothing but really tall grass. I've always wondered, once it gets to a point, is it even grass anymore, or just some freak tree thing?
Anyway, I really dislike living here. Why? It's hick center. It's hot as hell. One word: flies. And, last but not least: There's only BBQ. Which brings me to my current thoughts, I want some damn Chinese food right now. But, uh, no. The nearest take out is twenty miles away.
I sighed and picked at the grass. It gets so freakishly boring, here. I've resorted to causing some trouble. Or a lot of trouble, maybe—depends on how you look at it. Trouble here is doing something to the farm. That thing is Dad's pride and joy. If you steal a few eggs you're grounded for a month, not that I care what his punishments are. Sneaking out always was one of my best abilities...
Sometimes Dad says he's gonna ship me off to military school, I scoff at that. I mean, really, military school? He could do way better than that. Some part of me wants to believe him, but then I remember, my Dad has absolutely no backbone. It's actually kind of hilarious to say things to him, just to see him react.
And then there's Jackson, my idiot older brother. I think he was dropped on his head when he was a baby, honestly. Dad thinks he has some learning disability or whatever, I don't care. I may not be the angel child, but at least I have the decency to at least pass school.
My stomach grumbled.
Ah, I'm going home.
...
I peeked my head in the door, Dad was sitting down at the table with his hands in his hair. Jackson was watching TV on the couch. I walked inside fully, not caring that I was getting mud on the floor. "Hey, Dad," I casually said.
He lifted his head from his hands and looked at me. I saw Scrabble sprawled out on the table. All he does is play Scrabble with himself all day? What the fuck? "Hey, Miles, where were you?"
"None of your business." I smirked.
He sighed, "Okay, what do you want for dinner?"
"Chinese."
He sighed once again. "You know we only have BBQ around here."
"Well I want some Chinese," I snapped at him.
"Back off, Miley," Jackson barked at me. "Dad has enough to handle right now, he doesn't need you to be a brat, so just shut up."
I rolled my eyes. "Says the boy who has the IQ of a dog. And what, you call Scrabble 'enough to handle'?" I started laughing. Jackson started to fight back, but Dad interrupted him.
"Jackson, it's okay," he paused. "Miley, I'll order Chinese. I-" he stuttered. "I think one opened up somewhere, I heard it was fancy," he said as he put his stupid addiction game away in the closet.
"Dad, you know we can't afford anything like that," Jackson looked at him sadly.
"Oh, did you get your tutor to explain those big numbers to you, dumb ass?"
"God, Miley will you just shut the hell up!" Jackson stood up from the couch and walked to me. "Dad, can we send her away or something?"
"That's enough, kids." He closed his eyes. We waited at least ten seconds before he opened his mouth again. "I'm going to go order now. Just, please, be quiet, for a little bit," he pleaded with us.
"Fine," I grumbled and crossed my arms. I hate abiding to his 'rules', it makes me feel weak.
"-Yeah, okay, thanks, bye." Dad's words were stricken with southern accent. I grimaced, I hate being a hick. But I must be some kind of reject hick, I don't like farms, horses, any of it. I smirked, reject hick. That's me.
"They said the food would be here in about an hour." He put his arms around our shoulders. "So, I thought maybe we could do something as a family, eh?" I shrugged away from his touch.
"Sure," I mumbled. Dad's eyes lit up. I wonder what we're going to do? He walked over to the closet, I raised my eyebrows. He wouldn't... he just put it away... he-oh. Scrabble. Awesome.
I grimaced, but went through with my words to follow along with what he wanted to do. It didn't go so well.
It was awkward, consisting of this: me writing out some not-so-innocent words, which apparently didn't count. What the hell? Curse words are words. And then Jackson spelling out simple words like 'are', and 'cause'. Dad, somehow, won. How do you even win in Scrabble anyways? I don't think anyone wins, we all die a little inside all the same.
The familiar monotone sound of the doorbell rang through the house. "Finally!" I cried out.
We ate in silence. Awkward, awkward silence. But, that's who we are. The Stewart family has never been known for its cool. The constant clanking of dishes was to be heard, and slowly but surely getting on my last nerve. I shuddered, and picked up my fortune cookie. It read, 'You will meet new friends in an unexpected place.' What?
"All right," Dad started as he took his seat. "I ordered y'all this fancy Chinese dinner tonight to tell you something."
I tucked the fortune away in my pocket and glanced up at him. "What? You finally got yourself a new girlfriend?" I smirked.
He looked at me, stone faced, "as a matter of fact, no. But I don't appreciate you disrespecting me, Miley Ray." He shook his head in disappointment.
"I don't give a shit," I muttered under my breath. Dad just needs to get a life, get a hobby, or something. And by something, I mean besides that stupid Scrabble.
"So Dad, what were you gonna say before the troll interrupted you?" Jackson said, rolling his eyes at me.
"I was going to say... that we're moving to California."
Wait... what?
It's the middle of the year.
"What?" I yelled out. "You have got to be kidding me!"
Dad's face crinkled in confusion. "Why would I be kidding? I thought you hated it here, Miles?" he said quietly.
"Sweet!" Jackson did a fistpump. "California chicks!"
I sneered at him. He is such a boy. I drew my face back to dad. "Dad, why the hell do you want us to move?"
"I don't know, I figured it would be good for us... to get away."
"In the middle of the year? What are you thinking?"
He twiddled his thumbs. "I already settled it with the school, it's final and decided."
My frown and confused brow deepened. "And you didn't think of talking to us about this?"
He opened his mouth, but closed it. That goddamn idiot just doesn't know how to think. I don't care if he's my dad.
"Relax, Miles," Jackson replied. "Dad's right. You hate it here, there's bad memories here, it's not like we're slated or anything."
"How can you be so fucking calm?" I retorted. "This is such bullshit. This house is fine. We're fine. It's fine, this stupid place."
Dad looked at me, stared at me. I shuddered. "I don't understand you, Miley."
I threw my hands up. "No one understands me!" I stood up and walked up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I've had enough of this stupid family! I'm fine with everything and they just want to mix it up. Maybe I hate this town, but it was consistent. Consistency is fucking great, isn't it? I don't need anything else.
I laid on my bed, letting my anger diminish. I sighed and closed my eyes, sinking into the bed for a moment. I sighed again, and decided to change out of my partially-muddy clothes. The fortune dropped to the floor as I did, I read it again. An annoying fortune, a weird one. Whatever, crazy places and their creepy, cheap fortunes. I laid back down on my bed and closed my eyes once more. We'll move-and it'll be stupid. Dad will realize that and we'll move back. Back to the same old same old, the predictable. Fuck cookies, fuck people, fuck everything.
Goodnight.