Hey, guys! I know I should be updating Dear Stupid instead, but I have a little problem with the upcoming chapter… and when I get writer's block I tend to write something else to help. This is what I started writing… a Lackson story! With a very small side of Moliver! Wahoo!

It's not going to be long at all, however. I'm guessing around six or seven chapters, but who really knows, it could be even shorter than that. I also probably won't update quickly because I'm concentrating hard on Dear Stupid at the moment… Although this probably will be finished before that story. So yeah, here you go.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana, and never will, and it saddens me, so this is the only disclaimer that will appear for the rest of the story. Just so you understand for further reference.

PITY PROM DATE
Chapter One: Patty Cake?

Hi. I'm Lilly Truscott.

No. Wait, sorry. That was a terrible start.

Oh, geez, I should've known this would be hard to do. I am horrible at telling stories, you know. I probably should've just started from my point of view instead of just boldly announcing my name like that. That could've made my tale of romance, adventure (well, not really adventure, but I thought that it might make you actually want to read this stupid thing), and comedy a little on the mysterious side. But I'm more of an obvious person and blurt things out without realization, in case you didn't know. If I wasn't, you could've been sitting there for a couple of paragraphs and wonder aloud in a British accent, "Oh my, I wonder whom this little fairytale was about! I do hope I've brought my tea and crumpets!"

Well, okay, so maybe you wouldn't say those words exactly. I mean, for one, what I'm about to tell you… Er, it's anything but a fairytale. You could say it's a screwed up version of one that probably shouldn't have happened, but yet I'm pretty sure I'm happy that it did anyways since I'm sitting here writing this thing with a grin similar to the one I held when I accidentally touched hands with Orlando Bloom at a Hannah party, and… sorry, that's not really important to this, so I'll shut up.

This is the story of how a pity date to the prom eventually led to me falling for Jackson Stewart.

Unfortunately, yet at the same time, fortunately, I'm not kidding.

I know. I vomited at first, too, but the idea really sinks in after awhile and the vomiting reflex gradually disappears, and I'm still sitting here from the night's previous events like I've got ants in my pants. Even though that really doesn't make sense since I don't understand how ants in my pants are supposed to make me this happy… and I'm in a dress, not pants anyways… Oh, sorry… Right. Concentrate, Lilly!

I guess I'll start a week from today when this whole accidentally-fell-for-my-best-friend's-brother thing happened.

It was a nice, beautiful day in May.

Oh, never mind, it was actually raining cats and dogs, but I thought that maybe it would get you in a good, happy-go-lucky mood like the one I'm currently in. And it really was May. So, yeah, it was a Saturday afternoon, and I, along with Oliver, were sitting in Miley's house next to one of the windows.

We had come over there in an effort to cheer up Miley since, what a surprise, her last boyfriend ended up being a total jerk and cheated on her. It's funny really… Okay, not funny funny, but the idea that a guy would cheat on Miley is an ironic kind of funny. I mean, I doubt he would've done it if he knew Miley was actually Hannah Montana. And it sucked on Miley's part because she was supposed to go to Prom with this guy the following weekend. But because we're only sophomores, Miley wouldn't be able to go anymore, and she had bought the whole enchilada. The dress, the shoes, the hair stuff, the jewelry… You know, all that fabulous stuff.

But yes, back to the main point. There Oliver and I were, sitting by the window, staring outside into the gloominess of the rain that happened to be sucking the happiness out of my body. Yes, that was a sucky analogy, but this isn't an English essay, so be quiet. But yeah, the fact that it was raining was really going to be a damper on the whole cheering Miley up deal.

Then, the beginning of my so-called screwed-up fairytale really began. Because my prince charming in tin foil came strolling into the living room.

You know him as Jackson Stewart.

"Hey, Oken," he said to Oliver with no real emotion and not really paying attention to the fact that I was there, too, much less alone breathing and existing. Which totally aggravates me the more I think about it, but whatever. I even cleared my throat a couple times, but alas, I was still somehow invisible. I guess to Jackson, it was possible for an invisible, throat-clearing person to exist, but who knows.

"Howdy, Jackson," Oliver said strangely. Well, really, the adverb goes without saying as this is Oliver were talking about.

"…'Howdy'?" I repeated after some time and looked at him oddly.

He gave me this clueless expression and said, "What?" in his most donut voice possible, so I rolled my eyes and directed my attention back to Jackson.

Irritatingly enough, he took a seat on the couch next to me. I'm surprised he didn't sit on me really, being that I didn't seem to exist or whatever. And of course, this was a week ago, and being even that remotely close to Jackson disgusted me. So I moved closer to Oliver, who just raised his eyebrows suggestively before I punched him in the arm really hard for being retarded.

Jackson took the remote in his hands and switched on the T.V. And this is when I noticed this nameless expression on his face. Until it became un-nameless to me… it was a look of pure grief. Really, I should've been the one with such a look for just realizing the fact I didn't exist, but hey, whatever.

I glanced over at Oliver to see if he noticed. Well, let's just say the only thing he noticed was the girls parading around in swimsuits on the television. Yeah. Typical. So I turned back to Jackson.

"What's your problem?" I said harshly to him, not even bothering to slightly eliminate the annoyance in my voice.

Suddenly, I existed again. He slowly turned towards me, his face dangerously close to my own. I held my breath, confused why my lungs weren't working properly and why my face was so hot all of a sudden.

"Why do you care?" He replied in the same tone I had used, obviously not affected by the proximity (Yeah, big word, so?) of our faces like the way I was.

"Well… I don't!" I shouted back once I regained control of my breathing problem. "You just kind of looked like you just lost the love of your life or something."

Which I regret saying because then he started sobbing. Scary sight to see, let me tell you. I guess it wasn't really sobbing. There weren't any tears… just his face got all scrunched up like a pug puppy's and turned beat-red or whatever.

"JEENNNYYY!" He cried loudly to the ceiling before bringing his face down into his hands. Whoever Jenny was, I'm surprised she didn't reply with a "WHAAT?" because he was dreadfully loud.

It was an awkward situation. Oliver obviously thought so, too, because his staring contest with the T.V. screen abruptly ended, and he stood up just as suddenly and was like, "Uh, I'm going to go see if Miley's okay…?" and disappeared up the stairs.

This left me there alone with a distressed Jackson. I leapt up to join Oliver, before taking note of how miserable Jackson actually looked with his head in his hands like that. I sighed, cursing myself for being such a nice person and sat back down. Awkwardly, I began to pat him on the back, hurriedly shifting my eyes left and right, hoping that maybe his dad might come along and get me out of doing it.

"She left me for Brian," Jackson said to me, voice shaky with despair. "BRIAN WESTLAND!"

This was coincidentally the boy Miley was supposed to go to Prom with. But I didn't say that to him. Instead I gave him some advice.

"Um, okay."

So I'm not Dr. Phil. But whatever.

"And now I don't have a date to Prom, and it's Saturday! What am I gonna doooo?"

"Get a new one?" I offered. I was still patting him on the back really slowly and carefully. Touching Jackson at the time was revolting.

"But who?"

I suggested the first person that came to mind.

"Me?"

I'm not self-centered, though, I swear.

But yeah, then I slammed a hand against my mouth because I was thinking, Lilly, what are you doing?!?! Guh-ROSS! Dancing with a giant, no, wait, short, walking ape all night?!? Seriously, WHAT?

He brought his head up and stared at me pretty hard in the face. I still had my hand over my mouth, and he looked very confused then. Kind of like, Who are you? Which is a silly question obviously, since he's known me forever as his little sister's best friend.

His eyes were scanning all over my face, or at least, what wasn't covered by my hand. And then he brought his hand up to the one over my mouth, removing it. At the time, I was in denial of any blushing. But I'll proudly admit it now -- I blushed hard when his hand had a slight hold on my own.

But it soon subsided because my guardian angel (or just really good timing) decided to save me from this humiliation because I heard screaming coming from the stairs.

Jackson and I turned to see that Oliver was behind the couch now holding a bushy-haired monster… no, wait, a distraught, screeching, thrashing-wildly-about Miley in his arms bridal-style. He was rolling his eyes as she was struggling to break free of his grasp.

She was yelling over his shoulder, "Put me down, Oliver! I want to go back to my room and live in a black hole for the rest of my depressing, horrible, terrible life! Actually, just kill me now! Get it over with!"

She flipped her face (which was terrifyingly smeared with mascara all the way down her cheeks) to Jackson and I and her shrieking came to a halt. Her eyes were focused on something…

Oh, yeah. Jackson's hand grasping onto mine.

I guess Oliver noticed, too, because he dropped Miley, who landed on the floor with another scream. Only this time because of pain. From the floor, I heard her shout, "I didn't mean for you to actually kill me, you donut!"

Jackson and I quickly looked at each other in horror and he unleashed the grip on my hand, causing me to feel depressed for some reason. Well, I mean, I know now that it was because I was beginning to have, er, feelings for him… but at the time, I was just plain confused.

Oliver was staring at us. Miley was, too, the moment she got up from the floor.

Jackson saved my life. Okay, not really my life, but at the time, it was still heroic… ish. He decided to say, "W-w-w-we were playing patty cake! Uh… ya see?"

And in an instant, we really were clapping our hands together to make our story believable.

So it wasn't the most convincing thing in the world, but I guess Oliver didn't seem to care because he just shrugged it off. Miley looked awfully suspicious, however.

"Reeeaally now, Lilly? Patty cake? How stupid do you think I am?"

With her hair so messy and out of place, and her face completely drowned in smeared make-up, she truly was terrifying standing there with her hands on her hips. I didn't exactly want to answer that question truthfully either, so I decided to blurt whatever came to mind first. This happened to be the following, "Don't look at me! I might as well call you Mrs. Oken!"

At this, Oliver and Miley exchanged puzzled glances.

"You know, Miley, with the way he was carrying you," Jackson said slowly, sideways peeking at me. "Looks like you two just got married." I stared at him, wondering why he was suddenly so keen on helping me out when a few minutes ago, I hadn't even existed.

"Except," I continued, even more slowly than Jackson, "You're wearing nothing but a tank-top and shorts, and you chose an awful make-up artist and hairdresser."

Oliver chuckled even though I doubt he even knew what was going on with his attention span. And surprisingly enough, even Jackson snickered.

I was thinking, What the crud? Helping me out? And now he's actually laughing at my jokes?

Miley looked anything but amused, however. But she did seem to forget the whole Jackson and me handholding deal because she went (very grumpily, I must add), "Thanks. I'm going back to my room… I've left Ben & Jerry waiting, and those guys are the only things capable of cheering me up right now."

"Who's Ben and Jerry?!"

Oliver's attention span had suddenly improved.

Both Miley and I ignored him, though. Miley just kept slumping towards the stairs (it's really sad when just a simple walk looks depressing, that's how upset she must've been), and I removed myself from the couch even though I didn't want to. Miley was my friend in need… not Jackson… as much as I wanted to make my heart believe.

As I began my climb up the stairs, I snuck one last look over at the couch.

Jackson happened to be looking right back at me, and when he saw me, his eyes averted immediately back to the T.V. I have to say that it was a pretty cute gesture, even though I was having a war of sorts in my head during that point of time. You know… that Jackson was anything but cute. But I had seemed to have caught his attention unless he was looking at Oliver, and well, just… no.

I grinned stupidly to myself, but had to stop immediately when I saw Oliver's angry face behind me.

"What?" I said, trying to play off innocent like I hadn't been thinking of Miley's brother as something else besides Miley's brother.

"I don't like the sound of these Ben and Jerry guys, and I'm definitely not looking forward to meeting them!" He replied as he crossed his arms, face turning sour with hate.

I laughed hysterically the whole rest of the way to Miley's room, Oliver all the while calling behind me, "What? What did I say?!"

I hope you guys like it so far, please review and make my day:)