Slipped Away

When I went into the studio the next day, I couldn't find Cory. I was eager to find him, because my co-manager, Charlie, contacted me with a amazing news. I was going to cover Rhianna's "Umbrella" on a live performance at MTV. "Everyone's covered this song. Mandy Moore, Taylor Swift, you name it. If you can pop it up, --"

At that point I had interrupted him, "I've really been laying off the pop, you know" It sounded like I was turning down some sort of drug, or breaking away from soda addiction.

"Well, whatever you do, make it your own."

And that was when I had a brilliant idea. Cory. He can sing. I've heard him. Doing an acoustic cover of Umbrella with him would absolutely rock. I had to find him! I asked everyone where he was but nobody saw him. At least, I discovered him in one of the abandoned studio rooms, smoking a joint.

"Hey, Miley." He said.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I believe it's called 'getting stoned'"

"But, why?" Without thought, I reached for the joint and pulled it away from Cory.

"You wouldn't believe how much of an ass I am without it."

"Oh, I could imagine." I muttered, and stared at the burning joint. Turning it around in my fingers, trying to figure it out; why it was so important to some people. "You can't be stoned today. I need to work on our cover for Umbrella."

"You can go ahead and take a drag." Cory said, ignoring me.

"What?!" I threw the joint back at him, "No! I honestly don't understand why you're even doing it. Doesn't it mess you up? To have something mess with your mind...isn't that scary?"

"It just makes me relax. It's not like I'm getting drunk, like a certain someone at a certain party last night"

"I was just having fun." I lied.

The room started feeling really small, and I felt like Cory was reading my mind. He had that way of looking right through me, and I hated it. He could see things about myself that I couldn't see yet. He saw the sadness in my eyes and the emptiness I felt inside, he saw my vulnerability, my innocence, and the lack there of. He carefully took a drag on the joint I had thrown back at him, holding the smoke in for a few moments. When he exhaled, he looked up at me. "Miley, I heard about your grandma."

"What did you hear?"

"Your dad called to let me know she was dying, and told me I should --"

His words faded out. Dying? So, Mamaw was really dying? Why didn't he tell me that? All Dad said was he doesn't know, but he did know! I felt my body collapse, but before I hit the ground, something grabbed hold of me. Everything was spinning, and in a few seconds everything went black. For moment, I thought I was dreaming and it was God's invisible hands wrapped around me in the darkness. Maybe He was going to take me to my Grandma's, and cure her, just like Jesus cured people in the Bible.

"Miley!" I heard a familiar voice shout. It wasn't the booming voice I imagined God to have, so I knew those weren't His hands holding me, but Cory. My eyes flickered open, and I saw him holding me up in his arms.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to free myself from Cory's arms, but he wouldn't let go. Instead, Cory helped me up, keeping me steady.

"You passed out. Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Did he really say that?" I asked, "Did he say she's dying?"

"...You...didn't...know?"

I shook my head, feeling dizzy again, "No."

"Well, shit. I really feel like an asshole now."

I thought of everything Cory said to me, all the cruel things, and this mad him feel bad. Telling me the truth. The cold, hard truth...that my father was obviously keeping from me. I started shaking, and despite myself, I crashed into Cory's chest and started crying.

"Well, maybe I heard it wrong." Cory said, patting my back like a dog. He obviously never comforted anyone in his life.

"No...he probably knew and was keeping it from me, because of Mamaw. She told me she was fine..."

"Well, maybe they just found out the chemo isn't responding or something?"

"Maybe."

I was still shaking in Cory's arms, his shirt getting wet from my tears. He apparently got sick of being a good guy, because he pushed me away, grabbed a new joint and lit it. "Here," he handed it to me, "It will make you feel better."

"I doubt it. The only thing that seems to really numb the pain is alcohol. Preferably whiskey." I couldn't believe I let slip my little secret.

"Be careful with that shit, girl. I don't need you getting alcohol poisoning on me! Here, just try it!" Cory insisted, eyeing the joint.

Unsure of how to actually smoke, I got nervous...but I tried to mimic what I had seen Cory do. I ended up choking.

"You'll get used to it."

I spent thirty minutes in that studio getting stoned. It didn't make me feel better, like Cory promised, but I was more relaxed...painfully relaxed.

"So, you're covering Umbrella?" Cory asked, when we entered Studio A.

"Yeah, and I was kind of wondering if you'd sing it with me."

"Umbrella? Well, I guess the publicity would be good. I don't really dig the song though. Also, it's up to MTV and the label if I can join you on stage. How were you planning to sing it?"

I grabbed my acoustic guitar and sat down. I started playing the chords, "Very acoustic, like this. Just me and my guitar... and your voice and mine."

"No," he grabbed the guitar. "How about you sing it sort of like 'Nobody's Perfect'. Start is off slow, then I can come out with the electric guitar...and we can rock it up."

"But rock, not pop?"

"Can it be, Hannah Montana is going to be a rock star?"

"Shut up," I grabbed my guitar back from him.

When I came home, Jackson was playing a video game with Roxie. "Take that!" he shouted. He paused the game and turned his head around to look at me. "Hey, Miles. Wanna play?

"Mamaw's dying." I said matter-of-factly, and before anyone else could say anything I spun around and ran upstairs. I slammed my door shut, took off my clothes, and wrapped myself in a silk robe. I went inside my bathroom, turned the hot water on as high as I could stand, and stepped inside the shower.

When I came out, my skin was red from the scolding water...but it didn't feel too hot, it felt warm and good. I looked at myself in the mirror; my eyes bloodshot from smoking and crying, my fat body dripping wet, and something else. Something I couldn't place my hand on, but it had something to do with getting older...something with the look in my eyes.

It was then I realized wasn't Miley Stewart anymore.

So, poor me, got the sattelite shut off sobs, therefore I wont be able to watch Hannah Montana. :( Anyone wanna fill me in on new episodes? I'll give you hugs! Or does anyone know a site with script transcripts on them? For that, you'd get some virtual cookies and a hug! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter, 'twas beta read by the lovely Jesus.Lives! Oh, and on a totally off topic note, I just discovered this Christiasn music artist, Brooke Fraser. Her music rocks, so ya'll should check her out!