Jackson would never, ever remember to refill the toilet roll. Of the many household skills he had been taught, this one escaped him most often, followed by not drinking out of milk cartons and then hanging up your coat.

Robby sat and drummed his fingers. He'd read all of Miley's many shampoos and conditioners a couple thousand times over. The crossword had been finished and the only interesting article was a Hannah Montana interview which Miley had proudly shown off so many times he knew it by heart. Maybe the trashcan would offer more reading material? It was worth a shot.

Bubble gum

Half Empty Toothpaste

Spare Button

Last week's People magazine (with yet another HM interview)

A history paper marked "F" (Jackson)

A semi-familiar white stick stuffed in tissue paper

He almost past by the stick, before double taking. Was it? It was. A pregnancy test marked positive. A rush of memories over came Robby. The first time she had just shoved it into his hand after a big fight, the second it had been hidden in a bouquet of roses. Many, many more had lain blue in the trash.

Wait, she was dead. There was only one girl in the house, and she was fourteen, a fourteen year old pop star with no boyfriend to speak of. It couldn't be Jackson's girlfriend's, she'd never even come over before they broke up. It had to be Miley.

A door slammed downstairs. High heels clacked on the wooden floor as Miley and Lilly walked through the kitchen.

"Miles" he called, "get me some toilet paper." More heels clacking faster. Blushing, she stuck a roll into the room, the rest of her outside the door. She was about to run back into the kitchen when he told her to stay.

"I am very disappointed in you" he said, glaring at her as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"What did I do?"

"You know very well what you did." He growled, waving the stick in front of her. "You put your life, your job in danger and danger liked that. How could you do this Miles? How many talks have I had with you about this? How many times have I told you? Does your career mean nothing to you? Being Hannah Montana doesn't work like this. Your job puts money on our table, supplies mine and Jackson's jobs too. Did you even think? No, you didn't." he ranted, not noticing his daughter's eyes welling up with tears.

"Is that all you care about?" she asked angrily, "my career? I shouldn't even have a career dad, I'm fourteen. Isn't my life more important than that?" her hands protectively covered her stomach, which he now realized was a bit larger than usual, but only noticeable to those who knew. How could he have missed it? She turned to run back when he grabbed her arm.

"Miles" he whispered, pulling her towards him, realizing how much she was probably killing herself already over this. Miley was the kid guilt got to fast. She confessed to everything, could barley keep a secret, except the Hannah Montana one. She'd probably punished herself enough, and if she hadn't, this pregnancy would be more than enough of a punishment. "I'm sorry darlin" she fought him for a moment before giving in as he picked her up. She was so small in his arms, as her tears soaked his shirt.

"I was going to tell you" she cried, muffled, into his shoulder.

"I know" he whispered, rubbing her back as he struggled to walk into the living room. Gently, he set her on the couch and handed her tissues. Lilly, who had been picking at her yogurt, watched, she had heard everything. She helped Mr. Stewart as he made all three of them ice cream brownie sundaes to eat as they talked.

"Alright bud" he said, setting the bowl in front of her, "what do you know?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, tentatively reaching out for her spoon.

"Well, let's start with, who's the father?"

"Jake Ryan" she blushed, starring at the cherry whose red matched her cheeks.

"And who have you told?"

"You, Lilly, Oliver, and Jake." She laughed, "And Toby."

"Toby?"

"Mrs. Shultz, my science teacher's, guinea pig."

"Alright, so, what's the Hannah Montana plan?"

"I want to tell them." She said, looking directly into his eyes, "about me. The whole secrel. Someone's bound to slip, or put two and two together. It's better if we're direct."

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked, unbelieving.

"I-we're sure. Me and Jake. We talked about it." She explained decisively.

"If it's what you want I can't stop you from ringin' the Hannah bell, but only If you're absolutely sure."

"We are."