Author's Note: I don't own Hannah Montana or any of the charactersThis story is about Jackson Stewart and how he constantly feels invisible in his sister's shadow.
Chapter 1:
"Sha-la-la. I never saw who I'd become, until I saw my reflection. I wasn't the person I wanted to be, and it took me away from you," Miley's sitting on the couch and strumming at her guitar and singing, playing her, or rather, Hannah Montana's newest song Reflection, that Dad wrote She pauses, pushes back a strand of her curly reddish-brownish hair, and then starts singing again. "So glance into that reflection and find myself once again. Sha-la-la, ooh-ooh."
If I was some crazy, obsessive fan like most people are, I'd be rushing at her, screaming, "HANNAH MONTANA! HANNAH MONTANA! OH MY GOD IT'S HANNAH MONTANA!" Well, that is if she was wearing her blonde wig. She's not wearing it now, so nobody would say anything. It's amazing how much a blonde wig and sunglasses can disguise Miley Stewart from Hannah Montana.
Maybe they'd notice that her voice was really similar to the super-popular pop-star, but I guess not—well nobody's figured out yet. That is, except for Lilly Truscott and Oliver Oken, Miley's two best friends, which is really because she sort of told them…well she told Oliver, but Lilly's just a really nosy kid. And stupid too.
Ah, Lilly rather scares me.
Oliver's an ok kid, but he can be rather annoying. Like the way he thinks he's so smooth in talking to the ladies. "Smokin' Oken," I mean, couldn't somebody find a better name than that? Oh, I forgot. Sorry. "Locker Man's" another name.
Of course, I'm way better than he is. I'm three years older than him, and while Oliver's got the "cute" look, I've got the casual, good-looking type. Surprisingly, I'm still single.
…Who am I kidding? I'm an insensitive, cocky kid that a girl would be insane to go out with. I'll admit it, because "admitting is the first step to succeeding," as Mamaw says. I rather dislike who I pretend to be, but it's better than being the person I really am, I guess.
Nobody pays attention when I don't say something out loud… I feel sort of invisible. I guess it's not Miley's fault, but it seems that everything's about her, and people just sort of forget I'm there. I constantly feel invisible, unless Mamaw's visiting.
My mom would have understood. Even though Miley was a pop-star and everything, she always had time for me. But even she liked Miley more than me.
Dad treats me like I'm a burden. Sure, I know he loves me, but it's obvious he likes Miley more. She's always been his girl, and she was really crushed when Mom died. See, I was too, but I guess I'm not strong enough to say anything. I just sort of stood there and let Dad take care of Miley. I guess she needed it more than me.
Well, anyway, if I was a fan, I'd be screaming, "HANNAH MONTANA! I LOVE YOU HANNAH MONTANA! I WANT TO BE YOUR FUTURE HUSBAND!"
But as her older brother Jackson, I can only make fun of her. "Look into that reflection, and see myself again. A dork who's bad at singing, oh what can I do? I've got a zit on my fa-a-ace… and nobody loves me-e-e…" My voice draws up to a high squeak as I sing, and Miley gives me a dirty look.
"Jackson!" Dad roars. "Leave your sister alone!"
See? What did I tell you?
Miley flashes an evil grin at me, and then turns to look at Dad with a pathetic look in her eyes. God, sometimes I hate my sister.
"Who's Daddy's little girl?" I say in a sarcastic whisper. Miley flips her hair and ignores me. Dad hugs her, and then leaves.
"I'M COMING!" A voice rings through the air, and I flinch. Lilly's here. See, there's a Hannah Montana concert tonight, and Lilly always comes along, either dressed up as Lola LaFonda or Lola Luffnangle. Tonight she's going as LaFonda, so she has a red wig and extreme make-up on. I hate Lilly—uh, that girl bugs me.
"Hey Lilly!" says Miley, not even looking up when Lilly crashes into a vase. She's riding her skateboard, as usual.
"MILEY STEWART! WE'RE GOING TO THE HANNAH MONTANA CONCERT!" says Lilly, in her usual dim-witted way.
"You think?" I say sarcastically. Lilly looks at me. She doesn't get it. She's sort of dense.
"What did your brother say?" she whispers to Miley. Like I can't hear her.
"Just ignore the martian," says Miley. "Come on, I have to get ready for the show."
Dad walks in.
"AAAAAAH!" I scream. Dad's fake mustache always freaks me out. It looks like a hairy caterpillar eating his lip.
Dad glares at me.
"Sorry," I mutter.
"Come on Jackson, get ready for the concert," Dad says.
"Ok," I say, and then head to my room to get something to wear, and to put on a wig as well. (Sometimes people say, "Oh my God! It's Jackson! You like Hannah Montana too! Oh my God!" I hate making up the fact that I just love Hannah Montana and know all her songs by heart. I do know all the songs by heart, but I don't love Hannah Montana. I love Miley Stewart). I hate going to Miley's concerts—the noise, the drama, the obnoxious fans—well, except for the girls. But otherwise, they're pure torture, because I've listened to her songs at least one hundred times each. Well, The Best of Both Worlds, more times. But anyway, you get the point.
Sometimes I wish people just knew that Miley was Hannah Montana. I mean, I wouldn't be such a dork, and then people would like me. I mean, I'm the brother of the Hannah Montana, and I want some attention other than from Mamaw, even though she is great. People would talk to me, I'd get girls.
And at the same time, I'd know it was all fake. Why? That's the curse of being a celebrity. Miley's figured it out, and I've realized it from watching her. Even Lilly messed up and kept on calling Miley Hannah Montana until she realized how much she was hurting my sister. That day I wanted to punch Lilly. Sometimes I don't like it when people hurt Miley.
Miley really misses Mom. Mom was so soft, so gentle… I don't know what happened to that. So you know what? I'm just going to change for the concert.
Little do I know there's going to be some more excitement tonight…
Review? I always felt sort of bad for Jackson.
