Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana. I do own Amanda Sherwood and Garrett Sherwood though.

Miley's POV:
It scared me that people payed even less attention to me nowadays. The next week went by slowly, slower than I ever could've imagined. I felt like I was trudging, plowing through each stressful day, failing and failing, falling and falling, and with no clear way for me to pick myself up. I felt half asleep through everything because everything felt so blurry, like I had terrible allergies or something, but it truthfully wasn't allergies at all. And my fatigue was to the maximum, taking over completely. I felt like a bear. Like all I did was sleep. Like all I wanted to do was sleep. I felt like I was hibernating. I know. It sounds stupid. But I mean that's expected. Afterall...I am stupid.

Amanda's POV:

It was weird. It felt like I was suddenly living in the past. Like everything was so old, so outdated, yet I didn't know what style would take its place in the future. Everything math concept we learned, every pair of boots I had, every pencil I touched--it all felt so old, but creatively beautiful and smart, and I instantly found myself admiring each and everything little detail. I felt so comfortable for once in my wrecked life, so vintage in a way. I felt like I was living five centuries behind. My world seemed to suddenly have been enriched with color and brightness, and everything was highlighted with attractiveness to my willing curiousity.

And for the first time in what seemed like years, I didn't feel ghost-like, and overwhelmed with fatigue. I had always been so tired, and that's why I always tried to be so bright. I tried to kick myself into the spirit of things, and maybe brighten my mood. I had learned to be an optimistic person on the outside, while inside, I was drowning from being so pessimistic. I never believe the optimistic things I would say.

But for once, I actually saw things for what they were and reasoned with logic. Everything I saw or heard of had meaning, no matter how simple. Just drinking a sip of water over the past week could preoccupy me for hours it seemed, just pondering hard the uses and importances of water. Everything, just everything, seemed so important and delicate to me now, and I had sudden appreciation for the object or idea, and for whomever came up with it too.

I loved living this way, but nothing so grand and gorgeous lasts for long, does it?

I sat in my math class this morning, and I just couldn't focus, and math was my favorite subject. I was irritable, wriggling in my seat like I had for the past week of sudden enlightenment in my life. Instead of watching the clock tick and tock like most impatient kids do, my mind absentmindedly shifted to all the objects in the room, identifying them and overrating them in my head.

And then all suddenly, all of a sudden, it came to me.

All in math class, all of it came rushing to me, overwhelming me.

And I didn't cry, like I had been expecting myself to.

I think that was because of the abrupt effect of the whole my-life-suddenly-got-brighter thing.

I knew what to do now. And surprisingly, that didn't scare me.

I ran briskly to a bathroom I had discovered years ago, when I was only just in sixth grade. It was all the way at the other end of the school, in a narrow, hidden corridor, where the only rooms there were used as storage for janitors. I walked into the empty bathroom, preparing myself for anything unexpected. The lights were off, so I flipped the switch. They flickered on. The light was very weak, but it was good enough. The glow warmed the room like Christmas. The bathroom looked like it hadn't been visited in a year or two. It was honestly very clean. Even though many students had forgotten that bathroom, it seemed like the janitors hadn't.

I clutched my notebook tightly in one hand, my pencil in the other. I seated myself on a toilet in an vacant stall, and scribbled down everything that came to my head. It all came to me so fast. So easy. So organized. It just...flowed. Flowed out of my brain quickly.

I had never ever ever ever seen my handwriting so messy. Usually it was all nice and girly and curvy, but at the moment, my thoughts were coming out so fast, that on paper they looked like an explosion at the spaghetti factory. I didn't want forget anything. Every little bit was crucial.

I was sitting there for a while, just holding the note, rereading it over and over. Not that I wasn't sure this was the right thing to do. Oh I knew it. I was never more sure of anything in my life. I had to give this in.

And I thought so much. About my life. Of how rough and terrible it had been. And how unfair. How unfair it was for me. Everyone was always telling me, "You're so lucky that you're so gorgeous and that you're so smart, and you have a fantastic personality." And they would go on on how jealous they were.
Uh-huh. Okay. So I was smart. And I was gorgeous. And I guess I had a fanstastic personality. But I was a mess internally.

Honestly, I'd rather be the most hideous, dumbest girl on the planet with loving parents and an easy-going life than being a smart, drop-dead gorgeous girl that was unwanted.

I sighed, surprised to find tears spring into my eyes, and I left the bathroom, running down to the main hallway and stuffing it in through the dent.

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I then made my way to Social Studies, my least favorite class.

"Hey Amanda," Lilly Truscott greeted me like she did everyday.

"Hey Lilly," I said back, smiling brightly and sitting down in my usual set next to her in the last row. We sat all the way in the back of the classroom, and Mr. Hart was practically deaf, so we always talked.

But today we didn't.

All of a sudden, all the fatigue I hadn't had for the last week, swarmed all over me, all at once.

I was suddenly dizzy. Everything was swirling in front of me; the images of the classroom, my earliest memories, Garrett, my parents fighting, my mom not caring, Miley, Jake, failing--failing--failing--falling, never good enough...

"Amanda!" Garrett hollered to me from by the brown stable's fence. An excited look was embedded all over his face, and he was bouncing.

"What?" I asked breathlessly, running to him.

"The Grouch finally said we could ride them whenever we want," he said, jollier than St. Nick himself. "It was about time."

I smiled so hard that my face hurt, but I barely cared. I jumped a little too much from anxiousness.

He unlocked the wooden gate easily, and I followed him hungrily into the open stable.

"Wha--? Are you...serious?" I whispered dazily, making my way over to Happy, the horse I had tended to for the past month and a half. I stroked its soft mane, which I brushed almost everyday.

"I swear it," he grinned goofily, letting his horse, Jack, out. Our backs were facing each other as we both readied our horses.

"Wow," I breathed, bringing Happy out and strapping on a leather saddle to her back. I felt like singing, like I was on top of the whole world. "This must be the best thing that's happened all summer."

Garrett simply laughed aloud, "I know, 'Manda. What a shitty summer, huh? I mean...it's not like we've ever had a great one. I'm...sorry. It shouldn't have to be like this. It really doesn't have to be. For me and for you. For us, you know. It's all my fault. All my stupid, freaking fault. God Mandy, I'm...I-I'm just so...so sorry."

He sighed with difficulty. I knew he was crying. I felt my throat cork. Tears welled up in my eyes also, too fast for me too stop. My movements became so jittery that I just stopped.

"It...it's n-not your fault, Garry. And you know it. So--don't...d-don't even try to blame it on yourself. Okay?" I felt my face burning. "It's mom and dad's fault."

"I know. I know that, Mandy. But then...but then why does it seem like it's all mine?" he sniffled in hard, and turned around, readying to lead Jack outside for a ride.

Tears were falling down my cheeks in squiggly rivers.

There was pure silence for many lonely minutes. I knew that Garrett and I were both thinking the same thing.

The Grouch a.k.a. my mother's sister Ada had us for the entire summer, much against her wants. My father had run off with an aerobics instructor, and my mother well...she was in rehab. The whole summer had been trash. Aunt Ada treated us as if we were vermin, her slaves; not, in any way, her guests. She made us mow the pastures, tend to all the horses, clean the stables, collect the eggs from the chickens, and all the other dirty chores, rarely giving us moments of freedom. At first, I really wished she didn't live on a farm. Too many chores, and no electricity. We seriously had to use outhouses. How sad, huh?

It was just so like Dad though. So like him to run off with some other lady, and then Mom would have to convince herself that her heart was made of steel. She acted as if she didn't care, as though she were hardly affected, but it was totally the opposite. She broke down, and became an alcoholic. She's so stupid. She really is. My mom barely finished high school. I don't know where the hell I got my smarts from. Aunt Paige sent her to rehab, and that's the only good thing she'd ever done. My mother is truly crazy. She's so hippy-like, so out there and daring. I wish she were more down-to-earth.

Her and dad were always arguing, ever since I could remember. I knew that they only reason they kept together was because of me and Garrett. Heck, they weren't even married! They barely liked us.

Dad had left because of me. I knew it. I knew he hated kids, and that Garrett and I were just accidents. We were totally unwanted. Mom also hated kids. She used us as her little experiments. I was tired of being used. I just wanted to be loved, and live in a happy, simple loving family.
I knew Garrett craved that too. At night we talked about it, for hours on end. We talked about everything, anything that came to our minds. That was the amazing part about Garrett. I was so lucky to have him as a twin. I'm glad I live with him.

Garrett was born first. And by a lot. A whole three days. I was a surprise. No one knew I was there. My mother, being the genius that she is, didn't want to go to a real hospital bceause it would cost too much, so she went to a crappy one that her loco cousin owned. It was a really poor hospital, and so they really didn't have any...machines or anything, so they didn't do an ultra sound or anything to check if I was there! So, three days later, my dumb mom unexpectedly gave birth to me in a car. Can you believe how stupid she is?! She told me she felt contractions still, but she thought it was nothing, so she brushed it off. Seriously, how stupid can you be? Well, this shows you how much she wanted another child.

I barely had any friends except Garrett. Mom hated me. Dad hated me. Aunt Ada hated me. Everyone hated me.

Garrett sensed I was thinking about that.

"You know what? Let's not talk about this--let's just enjoy the ride while we can, okay?" Garrett tried.

"Okay," I quivered. "I'll meet you there in a minute. I've just got to...fix the saddle."
I was so embarrassed, but I didn't care. I needed sometime alone.

"Fine, then." Garrett left the stable with Jack, closing the tall gate firmly behind him.

I collapsed onto the hay, which crunched underneath me unpleasantly. I barely noticed its uncomfort. I bawled into my hands, never feeling so pitiful in my entire life. The whole thrill of finally being able to ride Happy was beginning to fade away.

I forced myself up, and I solemnly led Happy out onto the lush green pasture. Just miles and miles and miles of green, on and on and on.

I sighed, mounting Happy, and bounding off under the hard sun, trailing after Garrett.

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"And the highest score in the class on the placement test was...a full 100 percent!" Mr. Frank exclaimed to me. "By Miss Amanda Sherwood!"

Everyone clapped, and I blushed. Mr. Frank handed me a certificate.

"Very well done, Amanda! I think you really have a future in mathematics!" he smiled warmly.

'Thank you very much,' I wanted to say. 'But I've already decided to be a writer.'

"The next highest score was an 82! By Miss Alice Storms!" he read aloud.

I felt myself redding even more, and I knew I was positively beaming as I sat back down in my seat.

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"Aimee, sweetie..."

Sweetie?! My father had no right at all to call me 'sweetie' when we hadn't seen him months! After all the abusing, and ignoring me!

I spat at his feet. The back of his hand quickly connected with my cheek in one quick, slapping motion. I barely flinched.

"Don't call me 'sweetie'. You are not my dad. Not after what you have done to us," I said bravely, balling up my fists at my sides.

"Us?" my father repeated, raising his eyebrows, and laughing a little at me.

"Garrett and I," I responded coldly.

My father threw his head back and chuckled evilly, "Garrett is dead. Garrett is gone. Remember? Finally someone less to worry about."

It took all the strength I had in me to abstain from punching him in the stomach. I clenched my teeth hard together, completely fuming.

"You--you--!" I started, unable to find the words I needed so desparately.

"ENOUGH OF THIS!" he burst, snatching my wrist and squeezing it until my veins turned purple.

"Let go!" I yelled, wrenching away, tears falling from my eyes. He kicked me to the floor, and pounded in my stomach.

"I need you to meet Jeana, that's all I'm asking of you brat," he said disgustedly.

"Jeana? Who's that? Oh wait, let me guess...a stewardess? A club stripper? Another aerobics instructor?" I menaced.

Smack.

"Shut up. Now get in there, and act happy and nice. And not a word. Not a single word about this," he pulled me up roughly from under my armpits, and set me to my feet.

I cried silently to myself as he nudged me hard into the next room, where a lovely brunette lady was sipping a cup of coffee. Her face was warm and gentle, and her eyes were a soft baby blue. Her clothes were neat and stiff, and she looked about in her late twenties.

I glared at my father.

"I'll leave you two alone while I go get Amalia a drink," he said, leaving the room.

"I'm not--I'm not Amalia. Or Aimee either. My name's Amanda," I said awkwardly into the quietness.

I stood there, feeling very misplaced, clasping my sweaty hands tightly behind my back.

"I'm Jeana. I didn't even know Robert had a daughter! I do wish he would talk about you more, because you really are a beautiful girl, and you seem very intelligent," she smiled calmly.

"Thank you," I answered, not smiling. I rocked nervously on my tip-toes, back and forth into the bothering silence. My voice quivered, "Where did you two meet?"

"At a casino. I was organizing an event there.."

"Ah. Of course," I found myself saying, and then before I knew it, I had broken down into tears in front of Jeana. I fell to the floor on my knees, my face in my hands, sobbing to my fullest, and in desparate need of tissues.

Jeana didn't know what to do. She stood up slowly, her mouth open as if she were going to say something.

"Jeana, please--please...get out of here. He'll...he's not a g-good--a good g-guy. S-save yourself. Bef-fore it's t-too late. Or else you will end up like...like me and my dead brother."

Jeana's eyes widened; grabbing her bag, she stood up and ran, leaving the door open for me to escape too.

But I didn't. I couldn't. I felt my father's firm, sturdy hands squeezing around my throat just as I was about to leave the room.

---------------------------------------------------

I wobbled in my seat, swaying the to the side and to the front and all over. And suddenly the sickness took control again, rolling my eyes back in its sockets, and wiping me out.

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Miley's POV:
I shuffled in the direction of my locker at the end of the day, a smile plastered on my face for once. It was a little fake, but at least I was trying to be a little cheerful.

I approached the locker, and the janitor was there. The nice, middle-aged sympathetic man whose eyes crinkled warmly when he smiled, and who had a thick Brooklyn accent. I had always liked him; he had always been excessively kind so me, and never called me Milly. He always remembered my name was Miley.

I noticed at one that he was cleaning out Amanda's locker.

"Hey!" I yelled a little too loudly. "That's Amanda's locker! What are you doing?"

The janitor to stopped, and looked at me sympathetically.

"Please tell me you know what happened Miley," he begged sadly,"because I honestly don't want to be the one that has to break it to you," he sputtered out solemnly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know," I said, opening my locker, and stuffing out a fallen note into my pocket.

"Sweetheart--Amanda died this morning."

I froze.

"What?" I asked, thinking I had heard wrong.

"Her sickness apparently came back in such a big wave that it overwhelmed her, and killed her."

"You sure?" I choked hopefully.

"Positive."

It didn't need to sink in. It already had from the last time I thought Amanda was dead.

"Oh..." I croaked. I tear fell from my eye, and I leaned myself on my wrist that was extended to the locker. My breathing was hard, raspy, and heavy.

She was really dead now. For real. No joke.

The poor janitor seemed out of place, and wiping his forehead, he added quietly, "I think I'll just go now."

I nodded, and slammed my locker door shut with all the energy I had in me.

I was so angry that I could rip my own eyes out.

What bad had Amanda done do this world? She had no reason to be yanked out of life. She was innocent. It wasn't fair.

"It's not fair!" I screamed, insanity struck in my voice, I started banging my fist against the locker, which rattled as its response.

My eyes traveled over to where Amanda's locker stood open still. I carefully walked over.

Her notebooks were neatly stacked in one pile, with her textbooks in another neat pile, and everything else in neat piles.

Except one thing.

It was a notebook. A journal. A diary.

I opened it, and skipped to the end.

April 2nd, 2007

Hey, it's me again. Garrett's still haunting me. When I go to bed, he's all I think about. I just see his face, and I miss him so much--he was my brother, my twin; when he died, I did too. I've never felt whole since. I feel like a part of me is lagging behind, lost and confused. Mom acts like he was never alive, and it kills me. It's an awful mission just to find a picture of him. The only one I managed to save from Mom was this one of us. I've pasted it below. Sigh. I miss him. Oh! Mom's coming...um...gotta go.

Amanda S.

It haunted me to read those words. I traced my fingers over her light, loopy script carefully, feeling ghostly.

Like she had written, right below was a glossy picture. There was gorgeous Amanda, maybe only two years younger, her yellow hair shining, her green eyes sparkling, and her smile warming my heart like usual. She was a wearing a tight tanktop, and short shorts. Her arm was around a boy who looked her age. Garrett looked nothing like her. He had dark chestnut brown hair that covered his hazel eyes, and tanned skin. They were franternal obviously, not identical. But what was identical was their smiles. Exactly the same. He was also in summer clothes, and the sun was hot and heavy on their shoulders, making them squint slightly. They were sitting on a picnic bench with rolling green hills and lush fields behind them, a small barn in one corner.

April 2nd, 2007

Oh good, she left. Phew. Close. She almost saw you, Diary. See him? See Garrett up there? Doesn't he look so friendly? Oh, he was. We got along so well. We hardly looked alike. He always envied my blonde hair, and I always envied his mesmerizing hazel eyes. Funny, huh? And after he died, my hair became so special to me all of a sudden.

Amanda S.

April 3rd, 2007

Garrett, Garrett, Garrett. I've been thinking about him so much lately. I remember when he died. I remember creeping into his room that Monday morning, screaming at him to wake up, and then feeling his pulse, already in tears. I yelled my heart out. I had never been so angry in my life. So sad. Mom came rushing up stairs, taking a look at Garrett, and shrugged. And I smacked her. First time ever. I had been wanting to do it for a while now, and I finally did it. But it hardly felt good because I was so upset over Garrett. Mom just slapped me back, and physically kicked me out the room, giving me bruises. I cried so much. I was so depressed. I was angry. Angry at God, and Mom. How could she not care? I stayed home from school for a week. By Thursday, his body was cremate. There was no funeral. I wish there was. Garrett totally deserved one. So if I die, I want a funeral. And it can be for me AND Garrett. I could make up for it.

Amanda S.

April 4th, 2007

When I woke up this morning, I felt really...weird. Like so out of place, and it just felt like something was...off. I felt really dizzy, and I had a huge headache. I've been trying to brush it off, but it's not working...Oh God...I think I'm going to throw up...um...be right back--

Oh Lord. I just threw up in the bathroom. What is wrong with me? What's been the matter with me recently? I just don't feel like myself. And I've been switching moods really fast...I'm not bipolar, am I?

'Till another time,

Amanda Kay Sherwood :-?)

(Like my mustache guy up there? haha)

I smiled just a little bit at the mustache part, but frowned at the rest.

I had never known. It really had been such a huge secret for poor Amanda.

I felt so guilty all of a sudden. Like I should've been nicer to her. She deserved better.

"Ahhh!" I screamed, turning around immediatly after feeling someone touch my arm.

"It's me, Miley. Just me. Jake," he said simply.

A/N: Ok, I'm reallllllllllly not crazy about this chapter. This was supposed to be huge, and I tried, but...I still feel like I did poorly. If I need to redo it, I certainly will.

I welcome constructive critisim!!!!

sorry it took so long for the update. my internet was down.