"Somebody knows I'm Hannah Montana," the low-spirited, fragile voice of her normally confident best friend sent chills down Lily Trescot's spine.
Lily hesitantly set aside her bag of potato chips and stood up from her chair at the Stewart table. She strode over to Miley, leaning over behind her to read Hannah Montana's newest text message.
"What's it say?" Lily questioned softly, "What do you mean somebody knows who you are?"
Shakily, Miley read the message aloud, "It says, 'Dear Hannah, I know your secret identity. I know you're really Miley Stewart.'"
Miley handed her friend the pink phone to show her and allow her to read the dreadful words herself.
"That's it?" Lily questioned.
"That's it. I wish there were more. I mean, no explanation…no nothing."
"At least whoever it is hasn't threatened to do anything about it."
"But that's just it, Lily. If we don't know who, we don't know if we can trust them. We don't know if they are planning something or if they aren't!"
"Well…who could know?" Lily whispered faintly.
"I don't know." Miley replied in a defeated way, "I don't know…"
She tore the phone out of Lily's hand and sighed as the message stared at her…haunted her…and yet, revealed hardly any information. No name. No threats. No explanation of how they'd come to find out. So…did that mean no danger?
Dear Hannah,
I know your secret identity. I know you're really Miley Stewart.