When Miley's algebra teacher tried to call her up the next day she flat out ignored her. She couldn't care less because she knew that as soon as she took the chance of looking up she would see a stupid pink slip, with that horrible room number for her to go to. However, that method didn't quite work since the teacher came up to her, giving her a stern look. She didn't buy that Miley had just not heard her, she was smarter than that. Sighing, the teenager got up, gathering her stuff. Everyone in that class payed attention to their work, they were used to this routine by now. It happened twice a week after all.

This day was different, Miley did go to her locker and put her stuff away, but after that she only roamed the halls. She wasn't going to the social worker. No, she was infuriated at the social worker, she didn't even want to remember her name. She remembered every word the woman had said to her yesterday out in the hall clearly, vividly, she could recite it. It was unusual for her to stay mad over something this long, so this was an automatic sign that the teacher had pushed her boundaries.

When the bell finally did ring she went to choir, happily singing, talking to Nick before as if nothing was wrong. She didn't hate the social, she went there, it was pleasant. Or, that was the lie that was told to Nicholas. Then, all throughout lunch, she mingled with Demi and Kandace at the far end of the table, making sure no one heard her. She may hate being shy, but she wasn't quite ready to face it. If anyone talked to her, she would gladly talk back, reply, maybe even befriend them again. The fact of it was, she didn't know how people would treat her if she walked up, engaging them in a conversation now.

However, it was eventual that she would be dragged down to the office in person. And she indeed was. In her last period she did not only get called down, but Ms. Mares came to get her from the class, personally escorting her down to her office. Miley didn't care, that didn't mean that she had to talk to her. In fact, she completely ignored her, looking straight ahead not responding. She didn't show any hate towards her - that would be disrespectful - but, she didn't exactly show any love towards her either. Or even like for that matter.

"I'm sorry, but you know that you're going to have to talk to me. You always will. Because whether you like me or not, my job is to help you." She explained.

Miley did not like her, but she also did not want her help. Therefore, she continued her silence.

"Miley, look. If you don't start talking I'm going to call your brother down here."

Honestly? Then again, it didn't matter, her brother had no control over her. Although she did wonder which one.

"Fine," she got on her computer, searching his schedule. Picking up the phone she dialed his teachers room number, asking her politely to send him to her office when she got a chance. Of course that meant right away. Sure enough minutes later a confused senior stepped in the door. He scanned the room immediately noticing his pouting little sister. Something was up. "Your sister seems to be upset and I was wondering if you knew how to get her to talk when she's like this. I would appreciate her speaking, at least."

Miley looked over at him, speaking with her eyes like they used to. She discreetly moved them to right, sending him the message. Even if the relationship had faded, he was still her older brother. He wanted to protect her.

"Actually, I don't."

The teacher rose her eyebrows. "Trace."

"If you knew Miley, you would know that she hardly talks to anyone. If you're lucky she will talk to you. Unfortunately, I'm not that lucky," the sincerity in his voice was real. The guilt built up as she looked away from him, breaking the eye contact they shared, fixing hers to the ground. "It's hard to get someone who doesn't talk to you mad at you. And even when she did talk, if we ever had a fight she'd get over it within an hour. Miley doesn't hold a grudge."

"In that case, sit. I would like to hear about her family life."

This, Miley hadn't been expecting. She got nervous, she wasn't sure why, but her palms began to get sweaty, heartbeat fastened. She didn't want to be there when they talked about her and how much she changed, how much they missed her. But that didn't stop Trace from sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Does this get me out of class?" he asked, hopeful. Miley was wondering the exact opposite, if she could go back to class.

"Yes," she replied. "How do you view Miley's behavior?" she asked, glancing once at the sophomore.

"Huh?" he asked confused. Trace was bright, but he wasn't the smartest apple in the box. When it came to big questions like that it was flat out confusing.

"Okay... Forget that one then... Use one word to describe Miley."

"Quiet," he said. It was better than a lot of other things he could have said.

"One word to describe you."

Without thinking he answered, "Hot." Suddenly he felt his face get warm and a small giggle crept out of Miley.

"Brandi?"

"Caring."

"Your Mom?"

"Loving."

"Noah?"

"Innocent."

"Braison?"

"Funny."

"One word to describe your entire family," she requested slowly.

His gaze shifted down before glancing up at Miley. She looked at him concerned at his hesitation. This was Trace, why was there hesitation? Trace Stewart had absolutely no hesitation. Ever. It was obvious that this was a bad idea, she had known it had been. Then suddenly his soft whisper filled the room, with the one word that meant everything.

"Broken."