Chapter 2
Lilly couldn't sleep.
When she chose an animal farm as her new home, she knew what she was getting herself into—grunting and a wheezing neigh reached her ears from the right.
But couldn't someone have warned her beforehand that Miley snored?
The grunting ceased. Lilly listened tensely during the moment of silence, dreading for the snoring to resume. Four heartbeats later, a snort filled the room. Her pulse shot up. She grabbed her pillow and pressed it against her face. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
The snoring came to an abrupt halt, and Lilly lowered the pillow back down. Finally. Her mantra seemed to have worked. If she had known before that she possessed magic powers, she would have done a student exchange at Hogwarts instead.
Lilly fluffed up her pillow, leaned back, and closed her eyes. A couple of minutes later, she was still lying awake, trying to make out the flower patterns on the dim wallpapers.
This room smelled foreign. In her Malibu bedroom lingered the scent of fresh sea air, rubber from the basketballs and soccer balls, which she kept in a box at the foot of her bed, and occasionally a little mustiness when she didn't feel like putting her old clothes in the hamper.
But Miley's bedroom reeked of the same pungent stench that seemed to permeate the Stewart home and follow Lilly into every room. The underlying scent of fresh paint was only faintly discernible.
Lilly could make out the shadowy outlines of Miley's sprawled figure under the blanket, whose breathing came out in a regular rhythm. She closed her eyes, and soon her breathing matched Miley's.
"Are you still awake?"
Lilly jerked her head to the source of the raspy voice. Sleeping was overrated anyway. "Yeah, are you?"
A stifled laugh came from the side.
Lilly's cheeks flamed and she was grateful she was hidden in the shadows.
"Why ain't you sleepin'?"
Your snoring. That smell. You are talking to me right now. "I just can't."
"You're feelin' homesick, am I right?"
More like cramped. Lilly remained quiet. A soft object struck her on the head. "What is it?" Her fingers trailed down over soft, matted material.
"Beary. My teddy bear. When I'm feeling lonely, he's always there for me, and now I want him to be there for you. He likes to cuddle, by the way."
Lilly lifted the stuffed bear into the air. Faint moonlight crept through the open slit of the curtains, outlining a lopsided snout and floppy ears. "Why, thanks."
"No biggie, but be nice to him."
Lilly rolled over, facing the wall, and placed the bear next to her pillow. A strange odor drifted to her nose. A combination of soap and dust with a hint of… something Miley-ish? Lilly crunched her nose. She might as well have asked Miley to crawl into bed with her. At least Beary didn't snore. She stuffed him under her covers all the way to the foot of her bed.
Lilly rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squinted at the empty bed beside her. A ray of sunlight filtered through the curtain slit onto Miley's nightstand, where three half-empty pillboxes gleamed under the light. Beary leaned against the pillow on Miley's bed. Lilly must have accidentally kicked him out of bed while sleeping.
She dragged her feet out of bed and yanked open the curtains. Sunlight flickered through the dark green leaves of the chestnut tree in front of the window. Golden fields reached to the ocean-blue horizon, where white fluffy clouds rolled in like sea spray in slow motion.
Lilly creaked the window open and a warm breeze filled the room. She rummaged through her suitcase in search of a new set of clothes and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Voices drifted up from downstairs. Hopefully, the Stewarts didn't make her get up early on weekends as well.
Drops of water ran from Lilly's wet hair into the collar of her shirt as she walked back to the bedroom. She jarred to a halt beneath the door. A boy her age sat at the desk and drummed his fingers against the edge, his Bermuda shorts-clad legs jumping to the beat as if he were playing the drums. He reminded Lilly of Aiden, one of her Malibu friends who couldn't stop himself from playing the drums with his cutlery on the salt and pepper shakers whenever they visited an In-N-Out burger. The boy's head jerked up, their gazes met, and he cracked a cheeky smile. Yup, this was so Aiden. Only his pasty skin tone reminded Lilly that she was in Tennessee, not in her sunny hometown. She grinned back.
"I'm Oliver Oken, Miley's friend." He thumbed behind his shoulder. "I live two houses down."
"Lilly."
"I know." Oliver swiveled in his seat, displaying a Coldplay t-shirt. "Miley mentioned you so much on the phone this morning that I thought, Hey, I need to meet this girl."
"Oh, really?" Lilly tossed her old clothes beside her bed, flopped down, and tugged one leg under her. She indicated his shirt. "You're into Coldplay?"
"Who isn't?"
"The girls at my school."
"Then the girls at your school have no taste… which is where exactly?"
"SoCal."
Oliver's eyes turned upwards and he made a clicking sound in the side of his cheek. "Southern California?"
"Malibu, to be precise."
"Ahh." He leaned back, his elbows resting on the table's edge. "The land of dreams and opportunities."
"That, plus endless beaches, guac, and hot surfer boys in tight trunks."
Oliver grimaced at the last part, and Lilly could barely suppress a grin.
"What's guac?"
"Guacamole."
"Never heard of that."
"For real? It's an avocado dip."
"Doesn't ring a bell. You're one of those vegans?"
"Vegetarian. How about you?"
"Never." Oliver puffed out his chest and flexed his ping-pong-ball-sized biceps. "A real man needs meat."
Lilly's lips twitched. "Right."
"What possessed you to travel into the backwoods of Tennessee? Why not New York or Washington? And even though it's right next door—Nevada? They've got Las Vegas."
"And aliens."
"Exactly. So why?"
She was never going to tell Oliver. Hell, she hadn't even told her friends. Lilly bit her lower lip. "No reason." She leaned back and propped herself up on her palms. "So, how about you? Did you grow up in Crowley Corners?"
"Oh God, no." Oliver fell silent.
"So, where do you come from?"
His gaze shifted to the side before returning to Lilly. "Texas."
"I could tell you had a southern accent."
"You-you could?"
"Yeah, but you still sound pretty neutral to me. It takes some getting used to the thick drawl, but it's not too bad. It kinda has its own charm."
"You must be joking. Miley's all, like," Oliver held his nose, "Ya'll aah caint speak laake a normal person, so Ah'm forever stuck soundin' laak a hillbilly."
Lilly pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Miley came through the door, hugging three glasses sloshing with an apricot-colored liquid to her stomach, the ice cubes inside clanging against the glass.
Oliver yanked his hand down.
Miley hung her head. "Y'ain't talkin' about me, are you?"
"Nope." Lilly cast a sidelong glance at Oliver, expecting him to deny it like she had, but Oliver flatly stated yes.
Miley handed Lilly one glass while shoving the other into Oliver's grasp. "Oliver, no. You sound like Uncle Earl tryin' to imitate animal sounds while havin' the sniffles. I don't talk like that."
"Jeesh, I was joking. No need to get your knickers in a twist."
"I'm not upset." Miley plonked her glass on the table, and liquid sloshed over the sides. She turned to Lilly. "I'll help you unpack."
"You don't have to."
"I'm not goin' to take no for an answer." Miley knelt in front of Lilly's suitcase and fiddled with the zipper. "You are my guest, and Daddy taught me to be polite. That's just how we do things here in the South: offer your help, but never be intrusive."
Oliver scoffed.
Oh well, what the heck, she had nothing to be ashamed of in her suitcase. Except for…
Lilly whipped her head to the tiny bag in Miley's hand, which was printed with a miniature Hannah Montana.
"What's that?"
The reason Lilly was here. More accurately, the reason held the reason in her hands. When Lilly had received an email from a student exchange site with a profile of Miley, her breath had caught in her lungs for split moment until she had realized it wasn't the real Hannah Montana, but a brunette look-alike. Right away, she had decided on the student exchange with Miley, even if it meant ending up in a small town like Crowley Corners.
Lilly dipped her chin down. "My cosmetic bag."
"Did they have them on sale or… ?"
"I got it for my birthday."
"So you're a fan?"
Lilly cast a scrutinizing glance at Oliver, who regarded her with interest. "Yeah."
An infectious toothy smile lit up Miley's face. The same smile that had led Lilly to believe for a second it was Hannah in the photos. "She is real cool, ain't she?"
"Mega cool."
"I thought you were into rock." Oliver flicked his chocolate-brown bangs out of his eyes.
Lilly sipped from her glass. The lemonade left a bitter taste on her tongue. "It's pop rock." She braced herself for mockery, along the lines of, Truscott, why don't you trade your skateboard for a pompom? Try to be one of the skaterboys and you'll be treated as one.
"Not judging." Oliver raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Every now and then, you need a break from all that headbanging. Nobody wants to end up in the hospital with a brain injury, right?"
Lilly returned Oliver's lopsided grin.
"You don't really need that here." Miley held a can of pepper spray.
Lilly's mother had packed it into her suitcase. Does it have to be Tennessee? Have you read the newspaper articles? There's a ritual killer in the area, she had tried to reason with Lilly. Lilly had shrugged. It's either Tennessee or nothing. Her mother had no choice but to give in.
By the time Miley and Lilly had finished putting all of the clothes away in the closet, the ice cubes had melted into puddles at the bottom of the empty glasses.
Oliver leaned against the window frame. "Lilly, have you been to the town center yet?"
"I just got here yesterday evening, so… "
Miley stretched a piece of pink gum from her mouth and wrapped it around her finger. "You must first see our farm."
"Do you have ice cream on your farm?" Oliver asked.
Miley responded with a scowl. "All right, I kind of got a hankerin' for strawberry ice cream anyway."
"A what?"
Oliver grinned. "Redneckish for craving."
The wind picked at the corn plants that lined both sides of Old Mill Road, tossing them back and forth like waves on a stormy day, and carrying a whiff of the pungent stench with it.
Lilly cupped her mouth.
"Is there anythin' botherin' you?"
"That freaking smell."
"You haven't been to the countryside before, I reckon?"
Lilly shook her head.
"Our neighbor across the street has just planted rye."
"So that's how freshly planted rye smells?"
Miley snickered. "No, but the fertelizer does."
Brick houses from the nineteenth century alternated with houses with white and beige wooden facades. Striped awnings stretched across storefronts, and narrow front porches extended out onto the sidewalk.
They waited for a truck to pass and crossed Saddlers Lane, and Lilly could see the ice cream parlor from afar. A narrow building with a pastel pink wooden facade squeezed between two brick buildings.
A bell jingled above the door as Miley pushed it open. "My treat."
After everyone had received their ice cream, they sat under one of the white and red striped parasols to seek shade from the blazing sun. Lilly pulled a flyer from beneath the menu card.
We've been finding talent since 1998.
Your music teacher does not wear earplugs when you belt out that song or strum the guitar?
Your parents don't realize you're at your secret boyfriend's house despite the fact that you told them you were having a slumber party with your girl friends?
You know how to combine your big sister's favorite top with the belt from your mother's closet and make it look fantastic on you?
Then you've come to the right place. We're looking for singers and musicians, as well as actors and fashion enthusiasts (for design or modeling).
If you are a resident of Crowley Corners between the ages of 12 and 17, please contact us at…
Lilly skipped to the bottom.
Brought to you by Crowley Corners and presented by New Southern Dimension, The Country Company, and Western Threads.
"Huh? Who would have guessed there was a talent show in this one-horse town?"
Cars droned by behind Lilly. A high-pitched laugh rang out from the table next to them. Miley and Oliver's conversation had come to a halt.
When Lilly raised her head, she was met with Oliver's scowl and Miley's dull eyes. God, she shouldn't have referred to Crowley Corners as a one-horse town. How could she be so insensitive? "Sorry, I didn't—"
"—The talent show is held every summer vacation." Oliver rested his forearms on the table. "It kept Crowley Corners from turning into a ghost town. Without it, we'd probably have one big department store and a bunch of old people instead of all these little stores and a school full of kids."
Why did he suddenly care about Crowley Corners? "So some famous people must have come out of that show."
"Yup." Oliver snatched the flyer from Lilly's grasp. "A model and a country singer. Everyone who wins here is guaranteed money and, at the very least, some fame." Oliver tapped at the bottom of the flyer. "These are multimillion-dollar businesses. They know what they want and have the resources to make it happen."
Miley's dead eyes stared off into the distance. A wasp landed on the trickle of melted ice cream on her hand. She blinked and shook the bee away. She rose, her chair scraping against the pavement and threw the remainder of her ice cream into a nearby trashcan. "Does anyone have a tissue?"
Oliver shook his head, and Lilly scratched her forehead. "Nope." She never carried any. When she fell off her skateboard, she wiped her bloody hands on her jeans.
Miley disappeared inside the ice cream parlor, and returned with a tissue in her hand and a smile plastered on her face. "Who is up for some window shoppin'?"
Oliver straightened up and crumpled the flyer. "You see that approaching truck over there?"
Miley nodded.
"I'd rather jump in front of it."
A frown wiped away her smile. "You have to exaggerate all the time."
The US-truck droned past them, two American flags flapping in the wind on top of the cabin.
"For two years, you always complained about not having a girl friend to do your girly girl stuff with." Oliver stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked over at Lilly. "It seems that your wishes have been granted, which means more time for me to play FIFA 09."
"FIFA? No way. We should play togeth—" Lilly stopped. Miley was her hostess, not Oliver. So frilly dresses it was. "Maybe another time?"
"You bet."
In comparison to the countless Malibu malls, the tiny stores offered only a fraction of the selection. The CD store with a two-story red and blue neon sign shaped like a guitar sold Hannah Montana, but no Avenged Sevenfold. Various restaurants and cafeterias lined the streets, but there was no In-N-Out Burger or any other fast food chain.
After Miley insisted on buying Lilly a chocolate bar (who returned the favor by purchasing Miley apple-flavored chewing gum), they came across a glass-fronted boutique that looked like a spaceship among the antique buildings with its full glass front. Behind the windows, mannequins wore colorful rhinestone-studded dresses.
"Now that's what I call fashion." Lilly bit into her candy bar, the crisps crunching between her teeth.
"You do?" Miley's gaze swept down Lilly's black band t-shirt, tight washed out jeans, and checkered Vans.
"Oh, it's not my style, but we have a lot of fashion stores like that in Malibu, and Hannah Montana would definitely go shopping there."
"I don't think so, but I can show you a store Hannah might like."
They continued down the street until they came to a narrow store with dark wood floors and baby-blue wallpaper.
Lilly crumpled the candy wrapper in her hand, stuffed it into her pocket, and wiped her hand on her jeans. She pulled a sweater with a kitten motif off a rack and laughed. "Hecka funny. Hannah wouldn't even dress her dog in this ugly thing."
"I-I buy almost all of my clothes here."
Oh, shoot. Lilly bit her tongue. She had to go from one faux pas to the next.
"This is also where I got the blouse I'm wearin'."
That wasn't hard to believe. Even the frills had frills. "The blouse looks good on you." But Miley was probably the only person in the world who could pull off wearing a curtain as a top. "I really mean it."
"Thank you."
"All I wanted to say is that Hannah's into high-end fashion brands."
"Well, I reckon it just sounds cooler than I buy my clothes at a tiny fashion corner shop or whatever."
Lilly pulled a purple top from the rack. "She might like this one, though. It's in her favorite color."
"I like this one better." Miley held a top with a flower print in front of her.
"Your favorite color is… flamingo pink? "
"Just pink."
The next day, after dinner (Sweet Potato Fries, yum), Miley took Lilly on a farm tour. Up until now, Lilly had only seen the horses grazing in the pasture a bit further down the driveway.
She followed Miley through a tiny herb garden next to the cottage, inhaling a mixture of peppermint and other herbs she couldn't identify along with the ever-present stench of fertilizer.
They passed a woodshed with brightly colored paint flaking off the planks. Lilly stopped, cupped her hands around the glass of the only window and peered through it. It was pitch black inside.
"What are you doin'?"
Lilly spun around to find Miley marching over to her. "Nothing." She stepped back, knocking over one of the crates stacked next to the shed. "I just wanted to see the chickens.
"Chickens?"
"Isn't this the hen house?"
"It… it is."
"I've never seen one before. Can I take a look inside?"
"Um… " Miley scratched her neck. "No, sorry… the hens… they-they get quite dangerous around this time of year."
Lilly pffed. "Come on."
"It's true."
"You're really serious about this, huh? Why is this so?"
"Umm… "
"Are they starting to crave human flesh in the summer or something?" Lilly chuckled.
Miley's gaze switched to the side. "Somethin' like that."
Feathers grazed Lilly's bare lower leg. A hen pecked at her shoe, and she leaped to the side and pressed her back against the hen house.
"Oh, don't be scared." Miley clapped her hands with a "Shoosh Miss Molly," but the hen simply cocked her head at Miley, as if to say, What do you want from me you wacko? "Not all of them are dangerous. The others live in the barn and roam the farm freely."
"Of course." Lilly lowered her head to hide her blush. Oh man, what was wrong with her? Hopefully, she didn't return to Malibu with a permanent blush on her cheeks and a suitcase full of frilly dresses.
A little further behind the cottage loomed a two-story barn made of old planks and topped with a tin roof. Inside, hay bales were stacked to the ceiling against one wall, and a wooden ladder led one floor up. A group of chickens clucked and pecked around on the ground. A milk can rattled as a chicken pecked against it.
After Miley showed Lilly that haystacks made a comfortable bed, she led her to the horse pasture. She swung herself over the wooden fence, and Lilly clumsily copied her movements, landing in waist-high grass. She extended her arms, the sharp ends of the blades pricking her palms, as they walked across the field to a herd of horses.
Miley stroked the neck of a white horse. "This is Blue Jeans."
"Cute."
"Right? He is my best friend."
"Your best friend is a horse?"
"Is there somethin' wrong with that?"
"Not at all." Lilly held her hands up in a placating gesture. "I just thought your best friend would've less of the fur and hoof thing going on, and more of the shaggy brown hair and be into Coldplay, you know?"
"Oliver? No. Not anymore. I'm glad he stuck around, but we don't get to see each other that often."
Blue Jean's ears tipped forward, and his nostrils flared.
"If you want, you can pet him."
"I think he's angry."
"What makes you think that?" Miley stroked his ears. "Look, he is interested in you."
Blue Jeans nudged Lilly's arm, and Lilly backed away.
"What's wrong? You know a thin' or two about horses, don'tcha?"
During their email exchange, Lilly may have exaggerated her love for and experience with horses. "Yeah."
"And you have ridden before?"
On a school field trip a few years ago, she sat on a pony that a park employee had led in circles. "Yeah."
"Then we can go for a horseback ride together."
Lilly's stomach dropped. "Now?"
"It's already too late for that, but maybe next week."
The hot afternoon sun blazed down on Lilly's head. She gulped. "Sure." She needed to get out of the situation. Maybe pretend to be sick the next time Miley asked. Then again, how hard could riding a horse be?
Blue Jeans tossed his head and nudged Miley with his muzzle. She fumbled a handful of oats from her jeans pocket and Blue Jeans snapped at her hand. Miley shrinked back. "You should be ashamed of yourself. I just told Lilly what a good boy you are."
She held her hand out for the second time and flinched when Blue Jeans snapped again, but this time she let him feed. "I reckon I spoiled him as a child. Now I have to be careful that he don't bite my fingers. If you want, you can feed Roam-Man over yonder."
Lilly followed Miley's gaze to a brown-white spotted horse further down the pasture.
"He is real sociable and gets along with everyone."
"Yeah no, I'm good."
Miley giggled. "Come on. I promise he is a good boy."
Hadn't she just heard that one before? Lilly trudged after Miley.
Miley handed Lilly a carrot, which she held in front of Roam-Man's mouth.
Miley jerked Lilly's hand back. "D'ya want to lose your fingers?"
"What?"
"Have you ever hand-fed a horse before?"
"Yeah, I… " Lilly paused. If she told the truth, Miley would realize she knew nothing about horses; if she lied, she risked turning into Captainess Hook. The choice was obvious. Lilly let her hand fall to her side. "Actually, no."
"It's fine, but you shoulda told me. Some ridin' clubs discourage it because it teaches horses to always expect a treat. I mean… you've seen how pushy Blue Jeans can be."
Lilly nodded, swallowing.
Miley placed the carrot in the center of Lilly's palm. "It's hard for horses to see below their nose, so keep your hand as flat as possible."
Roam-Man snorted warm air onto Lilly's fingers, and his soft muzzle tickled her palm as it took the treat. A grin broke free from her lips. He nudged her shoulder.
„Looks like you have made a new friend. That was quicker than usual."
"Not the type of friend I expected during the school exchange, but rad."
"He-he doesn't have to be the only friend you made."
"I'm hoping not."
Miley turned away and ran her fingers through his mane. "D'ya have a lot of girl friends back home?"
"Not a single one."
"Really?" Miley shifted her weight. "Neither do I."
Could it be… no way… Miley was not the type to fit in with a boy's group.
"Since-since neither of us has any friends, why don't we be best friends?"
So Oliver was her only friend? Lilly stroked the horse's shoulder. Maybe because of homeschooling? But it had only been a year. "I have friends, even best friends. What I meant was, they're all boys."
Miley fiddled with Roam-Man's mane. "Oh." She suddenly seemed to need her full attention to fumble the last few oat grains from her pants pocket and feed them to the horse one by one.
God, she had done it again. She had hurt Miley. So stupid. "But having you as a best friend sounds awesome."
Miley curved her lips into a hesitant smile.
They continued petting the horse in silence until the low setting sun bathed the surroundings in warm vintage colors as if Lilly was looking through yellow-tinted sunglasses.