The Big Bang: Ordinary Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

"I am seventeen. Give me some freakin' space." Miley said, shutting the door to her dressing room. She didn't want to be rude, it was just that her father always had a way of bothering her at the worst times, and after any show all Miley wanted was to be alone. She slowly made her way to the vanity on the other side, and took a seat. After taking a good look at herself in the mirror, she pulled off her blonde Hannah wig and sighed. Unconsciously her hand reached for her diary, a gift from her deceased mother. Miley had a tradition of writing in her diary on a daily basis; one she followed religiously. She opened the red leather notebook and began to write.

'This 'show business' thing is starting to get on my nerves. All I wanted to do was sing; I never wanted to be a product. Where's the Miley that would write songs in her bedroom at 3 in the morning? The Miley that would sing whatever she wanted to? Because the Miley sitting here just sings what's written for her, which happens to be bubblegum-pop crap. This is too much; I can't give another damn concert.'

She closed the diary and looked at herself in the mirror again. She was Hannah Montana for crying out loud. She had fame, she had fortune, and she had everything she ever wanted. Why did she miss the happiness? Where was the joy of spreading her message?

Miley walked out of the dressing room, her Hannah wig inside a deep purple purse she toted. She walked up to her car, a sleek black Jaguar. She sat in the car for a while, staring at her fans walking around. Some of them, small children who identified Hannah as "Mommy! Look at the pretty girl with the catchy songs and the pretty clothes!", and not as a singer, would skip around the parking lot singing her songs.

'Those are NOT your songs, Miley. You did not write them. They just dressed you up like a cheap Barbie and had you sing those stupid songs.'

She turned on the car and drove off towards the beach. Whenever she needed to think, the beach was perfect for her. She would sit at the shore for hours, staring at the serenity of the waves. She drove past the busy city that was Los Angeles. 'I miss Tennessee. This place doesn't know how to breathe.'

She drove past streaks of gold and floods of white. Staring at the nightlife of the city, she realized how busy this city was. The city was all about luxuries in life, and the poor population of this brain-dead city didn't realize that fresh air and wide open spaces were a luxury.

Miley arrived at a secluded part of the beach; one she called Tennessee Beach. A complete oxymoron, but somehow the calm it gave her reminded her of Tennessee. She got out of the car and walked to the edge. She couldn't see the dark horizon, but she most definitely could hear the waves crash. This was something Tennessee did not have: beaches. With those beautiful sounds, Miley's scattered thoughts couldn't help but travel to a few months back, when she was at Fascination Records.

Hannah walked into the office and sat across from an old man with a burly build. He simply nodded, and she smiled coyly. She handed him a CD case, which he eyed warily. The text on the album was simple: Hannah Montana 2010 Demos. The man opened the case and pulled out a white CD. He put it in the CD player and pressed play, waiting for the music to start.

Hannah had put her all into these four demos, three of which she had solely written. The first song was 'Stay', continued by 'Heart On My Sleeve', and 'Goodbye'. She covered one song on the album as well, which was on The Last Song soundtrack. The song was 'When I Look At You'.

Stay had been playing for about 30 seconds when the old man paused it. Hannah looked up worried.
"Now, are all four songs like this?" He asked.

"More or less, but yes." Hannah said. The old man ejected the disc and tossed it in the trash. Hannah stared at him in disbelief. He didn't just do that, did he?

"No. This is not Hannah Montana." Hannah stood up in her chair, infuriated.

"Wait…are you trying to tell me who I am?" The old man stood up as well, and walked towards her at a leisurely pace.

"No, Hannah. We're just thinking that this isn't what your fans will like."

"If my fans don't like it, that's their problem." Hannah retorted. The old man pulled out a purple disc with the cheesy Hannah Montana logo on it. The song name was "Que Será".

"How about we take a listen to this demo instead?" He popped the CD in, and turned the music as high as it could go. This prick was testing her patience. Hannah took about 15 seconds to hear the song, and quickly turned on her heels and left. She has enough of those stupid songs with even worse lyrics.

Miley went back into the car and rolled the windows down. It was three in the morning, and her father had called her only once. She eyed the phone in her hands and made a split second decision. She threw the phone out of the car before backing out and driving off onto the highway.

She popped the demo CD into her stereo and sang along to the songs. This was the real Miley, not the stupid blonde bimbo her record company wanted her to be. She mounted onto the interstate on the first sign she found and drove off into that direction, not looking into any of her rearview mirrors at any moment. Miley was done with the life she lived in Los Angeles. She wasn't quite ready to go back to Tennessee, but she knew that her future was not in a city filled with creatures that decided her every move. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she want to know. She was on the path to freedom, and that was all that really mattered.

This girl was free, and she would remain free wherever she went.