CHAPTER THREE

Misery, Doom and the Morning After

Miley's Point of View

Sweet niblets.

I so needed to head to a spa and clear my mind.

I mean, really, who did that hotshot actor and egomaniac of a Jake Ryan think he was, anyway? The love of my double pop star and high school freshman life? Please.

Okay, okay, fine, I'll admit. So maybe he was the love of my surely over and done for life. Still, that didn't give him the right to manipulate me like he did.

Right after my encounter with him, I ran and ran. It wasn't until I reached the bathroom that I stopped to a halt.

I looked into the mirror. Tears flooded my eyes. I hadn't even realized that I cried.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "Way to look like the fool that you are, Stewart."

Reluctantly, I washed my melted makeup off and sighed. "Okay," I asked the girl in the mirror (no, this is not a weak and lame Britney Spears pun). "What now?"

Part of me said that I should go out and try to have fun. Another said that I should try to make sense of things with Jake. Or maybe I should just stay in the bathroom till the next day.

One thing I certainly won't do is to go home.

And then, just as I was about to make my decision, came three loud knocks at the door. "Hello? Is anybody there?" The voice sounded forced, like the person was trying very hard to stop something.

I opened the door. "Sorry, I was having a minor—"

The boy was at my feet, looking wasted and done for. And then, the next thing I know, the next-worst thing to happen that day had taken place.

He vomited all over me, my dress and my shoes.

"…crisis," I finished, complete with a disgusted eye-roll. "Um, make that a major crisis."

"Whoa, sorry, dude," the person who'd just spit out his entire dinner all over me said in this annoying skateboarder-ish accent—the one Lilly usually used when she drags me to the skate park back in Malibu. "Don't freak out or anything."

"Don't…freak…out?!" was what I almost yelled. Instead, I let it out in the calmest way possible when everything is just going so, so wrong. "Look, mister, my almost-boyfriend and I bumped into each other here and I…"

That was all I remembered saying before exploding into a series of frustrated yells and crying out every cussword known to man.

Okay, for a Southern girl and a world pop sensation, that's not exactly the most righteous and graceful thing. But I was put in a seriously annoying situation and I can't help it.

"I'm-I'm not exactly the-the best v-venting buddy," Vomit Guy said, right after throwing up some more in the toilet and washing up.

I groaned in the loudest way possible and just walked out of the bathroom, deciding on going home.

"A guy threw up on me," I told every single person, whoever he or she was, who'd stared at me in shock or disgust, over and over again. Really, I was like a broken vinyl record, or something.

I headed for the coat rack at the back of the door of the closet that was closest to the front door.

I just went to grab my coat. No other intention, whatsoever.

So, technically, I didn't plan on walking on a couple that was totally playing tonsil hockey, right there in the darkened closet itself.

"Oh, gosh," I said. "I am so sorry. I just went to grab my coat…" I got a closer look at the male in the closet. "What the…" I couldn't believe my eyes. "Oliver?!"

"Miley," Oliver stated, his tone unable to give away how he was feeling at the time.

I, for one, felt embarrassed, weirded out and just plain dazed.

"What are you doing here?" we said at the same time. Although his sentence sounded more like a statement than a question.

I stared at them for a few more seconds. The girl was really pretty, although she could use a little attendance to Charm School. And while I was happy for them, I just needed to get some rest. "I was just leaving," I finally replied after a while. "I'll see you later. Happy…um, kissing." I grabbed my coat and went off.

The scene was way too awkward to bear with: Me, Miley, who had a guy throw up all over her; Oliver, the doughnut who's exceptionally unlucky in love, and who just got his first makeout session; and his makeout buddy, the girl who needed to replace Mia Thermopolis in getting princess lessons from the Dowager Princess of Genovia.

"Miley, wait—" Oliver started to say, but he was too late.

"Later, Oliver," I called over my shoulder as I went through the front door.

The waterworks began all over again during the short yet imaginatively long walk home. Or rather, the house we were staying in.

Lilly's older brother was still wide awake, yelling out cheers triumphantly, at the couch when I got there. He was watching some football game. I couldn't relate.

"Don't ask," I said when he saw me. "Long story."

I went straight to the bathroom and got to work. Cleaning puke out from those sequins shouldn't take long…

…much.

ooHMoo

Both Lilly and I were looking bummed during breakfast the next day. Hayden looked confused, and Oliver looked like he could float off to Wonderland any second.

Lilly and Hayden's parents, however, were still asleep.

"Oliver," I called to him. He didn't respond. "Oliver," I tried again. Still no response. "Oliver!" I grabbed the box of Honey Combs and started pelting him with some of those.

The daydream-ish look on his face finally disappeared after a while. "What?" he asked. "Did somebody break in?" He struck a pose, as if getting ready to karate-chop the imaginary intruder.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "In fact, they got away. One of them had the huge tub of hair gel that you were guarding with your life in hand."

It's true. Oliver lives on hair gel. If it was a type of drug, he'd probably need rehab, or he'd be in Hair Gel-aholics Anonymous by now.

Oliver jumped up. Huh. He seemed to believe every word I'd just said. "Those robbers are going down!" he declared, forming a fist. He grabbed his glass of orange juice, chugged it down until there was none, set it back down on the table, and rolled his sleeves up. "Lemme at 'em! Lemme at 'em!"

"Relax, Oliver, she's just playing with you," Lilly told him dully. "Your hair gel's safe and sound."

"But I though hair gels are unable to speak?" Oliver inquired. "That makes them highly unable to make a sound. Therefore, they're just safe, not sound."

I shook my head at him. The shaking of heads continued for a few more seconds, until I could sense Oliver was getting way uncomfortable, and then I finally went, "Okay, you doughnut. What's her name?"

"Her name?" Oliver scratched his head. "I don't even know who 'she' is. Is this another brainteaser, or something?"

"I think you know fairly well who I'm talking about," I said. "You know, the girl you were locking lips with last night?"

Oliver started looking like a lovesick puppy all over again. "Oh. Yeah. Her name's Alex."

"Wait," Lilly interrupted. "Are you guys trying to tell me that Oliver made out with somebody last night?"

"Yes," Oliver replied, a little too proudly. Oh, well. Who can blame him? God love him, the poor boy's been waiting for this for a long, long time.

"How about you, Cinderella?" I turned to her. "Who was your prince last night?"

Lilly didn't respond. She just drew circles in her cereal with her spoon. It felt like an eternity before she turned around and gushed, "His name is Joe and he's really, really cute!" Then she sunk back into her chair and took a spoonful of Lucky Charms. "Problem is, he doesn't know who I am and I ran away from him."

"She met her curfew well last night," Hayden added.

"And now I can't stop thinking about him." Lilly shot her older brother a glare. She paused, as if searching for something. She felt around her wrist. "Um, has anybody seen my lucky skateboard charm bracelet?"

"You mean the one you won during your first skateboarding competition?" Hayden asked. "The last time I saw it, you were toying with it on the way here."

"Oh, no," Lilly let out. "I knew I dropped something at the party! How will I get it back now?"

"Chances are, it's not there anymore," I said, looking at reality. "Look, I'll buy you a new one when we get home, okay? I'm really sorry, Lilly."

"It's okay." Lilly shook her head. "It never brought me much luck anyway."

I knew this was a lie. Lilly loved that bracelet dearly.

"At least you got a night that's a bit better than mine was," I told her reassuringly. "I kissed a Jake and I got vomited on. It was the worst."

"You kissed Jake?" Lilly asked. "No way."

"No," I said, trying to cover this up. I never really planned on telling them. "I said I kissed a jerk."

"You clearly said that you kissed Jake," Lilly pointed out. "Was it our Jake, as in Jake Ryan?"

"I don't know what you two are talking about," Hayden cut in. "What's with all those kisses? And, yeah, Miley, you said you kissed a Jake. Note the 'a,' which wasn't supposed to be there. It makes the sentence have improper grammar."

Sometimes, Hayden can be such a pain-in-the-neck know-it-all. He's exceptionally a whiz at English.

"We made a pact," Oliver explained. "To kiss a stranger by midnight."

"Miley's wasn't a stranger." Hayden knew of my bizarre love story with Jake.

I gave up. "Okay, fine. So maybe I did kiss Jake. I didn't mean to! I just grabbed the closest boy there was."

"What's he doing here?" Lilly asked.

"Did you talk?" Oliver wanted to know.

"I bet it was awkward," Hayden said.

"Enough about him, okay?" I told them. "I just want to forget about him."

"Something tells me it didn't go so well," Oliver told Lilly.

"You think?" I said sarcastically.

Before I could tell him off any more, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it." Hayden got up and walked off to the living room.

"Looks like the only part of the pact that went well was Oliver's," Lilly said. "Which is totally, completely, absolutely off."

"I know," Oliver and I replied at the same time. I don't need to tell you that we had different tones of voices, do I?

"Joey!" I heard Hayden say in the living room. "You didn't tell me you lived next door! Come in!" There was a pause. "You must be Nick. And, uh, Kevin, right? I'm Hayden. You probably heard about Joe's camp buddy, the one that fell off the log and into the lake during one of the activities. That's me."

Laughter filled the living room.

"Who are those guys?" Oliver asked.

"Maybe the ones living next door," Lilly replied.

I stood up. "Come on, you two," I told them. "Let's welcome them. It ain't polite if we're just sittin' here."

"And the zombie of the Southern belle resurfaces," Oliver said. He and Lilly followed me into the living room.

"Oh, hey, Lil!" Hayden said to his little sister. "Come meet our next-door neighbors and my camp buddy." He made the introductions. "This is Nick." He pointed to a boy with curly brown hair, big brown eyes and a shy smile. Then he moved on to a slightly taller guy with equally brownish curly hair (although it was unevenly not-so-curly at one side), darker eyes and an outgoing smile. "This is Kevin." Finally, he gestured to a boy with jet-black hair like that of a character from Japanese cartoons called anime. He was the tallest (and they were all tall), and he was looking the other way. "And finally, this is Joe, my camp buddy."

Joe turned around. "Oh. Hi."

I heard Lilly suck in a breath. I knew right away that this Joe might be the Joe she was talking about.

It's official: Without that lucky charm bracelet, Lilly's a bad luck magnet.

(A/N: So sorry for the late update. Computer problems—gotta hate 'em. Oh, boy. Not only is Joe Lilly's neighbor for two weeks, he's also Hayden's old campmate! How will this go? Catch more of their encounter in the next chapter, How Close is Too Close! For now, please review! Thanks!)