I woke up to Oliver sitting beside me, reading a Hannah Montana magazine. He looked over at me and smiled. "Oh, you're awake. Good morning!"
"Good morning Oliver. Where is my dad?" I asked.
"He went to get some coffee. He should be back soon," Oliver told me. I shrugged and sat up as Oliver set down the magazine and lay down beside me. I put my head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. "So, how's your foot?" he asked.
"It feels like it just got shot! How do ya think it feels?" I laughed. "Wait, I just thought of something."
"I thought I smelled smoke!" Oliver joked.
"Haha, very funny. As I was saying, I was thinking..."
"Don't hurt yourself," Oliver teased once again.
"Ok Oliver, I get it! Anyways, what if I have a broken foot or whatever, and Hannah Montana has one too? And it just so happens to be in the exact some spot and happened at the exact same time as mine; won't people start to suspect something?"
"Don't worry, you don't have to be on crutches when your on stage!" my dad said. He must've walked in just as I was talking to Oliver. I then realized the position Oliver and I was in and moved back to my original state.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Well, we are going to pad your shoe so that it's raised up a little by putting tissue around the sore. Then, there won't be any pressure on it and you can walk. But you will have to practice walking like that today because you've got a concert tonight," my dad explained.
"What? Tonight of all nights!" I moaned.
"Well, we are ready to go when you are," my dad said.
"I'm ready. Let's go!" I grabbed my crutches and we left the room. We went down the hall to the lobby and out the doors to the car.
"Ow... Ow...Ow...Ow...," I walked outside with my dad's "brilliant" shoes on as Hannah Montana.
"Are you ready Miley?" Jackson asked.
"No, but I don't have a choice. Come on, lets go," Miley whined as her and Jackson climbed unto the limo. It was a short ride, considering the concert was in town. In a matter of time we arrived and got out. I walked down the red carpet first, followed by my dad, then Jackson, the Oliver. I went to my dressing room and flopped down onto the couch. "Daddy, do I have to dance?" I asked.
"Uh... shoot. I didn't think about that." He walked to the dressing room entrance. "I'll talk to the dancers and we'll think of something," my dad concluded as he walked out the door.
"Yikes, this must be rough on you," Oliver commented.
"Yeah, it is."
Hannah Montana, to the stage. You're on in five minutes.