CHAPTER FIVE

First Real Encounter

Miley's Point of View

"Go on." I pushed Jackson while we were standing by the stairs.

"You go on," Jackson replied, pushing me back.

We had worked up our nerves - well, kind of - enough to talk to Grace. After all, we didn't even have a single decent conversation with her, even after we met her.

I gulped and nodded. "Um, hi," I said, a little too enthusiastically, appearing at my stepmother's side. I had this unnaturally wide grin that would freak everyone out, even the biggest buck-toothed psycho.

"Hey, Miley. Oh, and hello, Jackson. What are you two doing here?" Grace asked, drinking her coffee.

"We just thought about how awful you must feel with the way we treat you," Jackson reasoned. "So we decided to talk to you. But no, we didn't actually force ourselves to it, we did it by decision."

"Aww, thanks," Grace said, obviously touched. "So, what do you guys want to talk about?"

"Oh, you know," I said. "Just...stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Grace used these air quotes, and I suddenly began feeling comfortable around her.

"We're really sorry with the way we treated you," I began. "Really, really sorry."

"Oh, it's okay. I know it's tough having to share you father with someone else. I went through that, too." Grace gave us a grin that kind of meant that she relates with us.

"And, well, there's Jake..." Jackson began.

"Oh, you guys are afraid that you'd be under Jake's shadow all the time? I doubt it. You two are really talented and gifted," Grace continued.

"Well, one of us, anyway," I said under my breath. Jackson elbowed me. "Just joking!" I whispered to him. I turned to Grace. "N-no, that's not what we meant. It's sort of a different thing..."

"Then what?" Grace asked, shrugging, as if she didn't understand a thing.

"It," I said, hesitating. I decided not to tell her that Jake could be my boyfriend now if we weren't stepsiblings. "It's nothing. It's just weird seeing him in the flesh everyday and not just at school. But don't get us wrong, it's really cool. You know, being, like, his stepsiblings, and all."

"Oh," Grace replied slowly. "Okay."

"Has he always been into acting?" Jackson asked.

"Oh, no," our stepmother answered, the hint of a smile showing on her lips. "He first got into ballet. He's a good dancer, you know..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," I cut it. "Did you say that he first got into ballet?"

I looked over at Jackson, and we stared into each other's eyes intently before bursting into tons of laughter. "No way," I managed to say through giggling. I laughed so hard that I actually cried.

"Oh, no," I heard a voice say as a person entered the house.

My back was turned to the living room, but I knew exactly who it was.

As soon as I heard those two short words, I thought the same: Oh, no.

I was thinking of avoiding Jake, but tough luck.

"Mom, did you tell Jackson and Miley my," he gulped as he continued, "ballet past?" He shuddered, as if ballet was something gross to eat.

"But I thought ballet was for chicks," Jackson stated.

"It's preferred more by girls, but boys can dance it, too," I corrected him.

"That's right, Miley," Grace said. She turned to Jake, who had his gaze at the ceiling, looking every bit as horrfied as I was when I found out that our parents were going to get married. It's hard not to bring that topic up. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," Grace apologized. "I couldn't resist."

Jackson and I laughed again, and then I looked at Jake. He was also looking at me, admiringly. I couldn't help but smile at him. He winked once before going upstairs, to his and Jackson's room.

About a minute later, he came back down in a graphic tee he wore last week and a pair of wash-out torn jeans that he wore yesterday. Ugh, it's a curse. I can remember what everybody wears and when everybody wears them. Like if today, you were wearing an outfit and I just met you, and I don't meet you again until six months and you were wearing the same outfit, I'd remember it. Lilly tells me it's a gift, so that the two of us wouldn't wear the same outfit twice, but it kind of bothers me. And I don't know why. Whatever.

"Why are you wearing those?" I asked, all friendly and stepsisterly and all that nonsense. "Are you going out, or something? And are those clean?"

"Why are you being all Sherlock Holmes on me? Or is it more like Katie Holmes?" Jake shot back. "Besides, I feel comfortable in these."

"What do you mean, Katie Holmes?" I asked, using the air quotes Grace had used earlier. "I'm not clingy!"

Just then, Dad entered through the back door. "Nice to see you guys talking."

"Why don't you join in?" Grace suggested.

The discussions went on, and we got to know everyone a little better. We eventually separated and went back to our own little worlds.

When I'm back in my room, I dialed Lilly's phone number and asked her to help me dress up for a major Hannah event. She was all, "So you won't quit?" And when I said, "Not yet sure, but I think the fifty-fifty chance has become seventy-five to twenty-five," she asked, "And what's the better choice?" I replied, "Not quitting," and Lilly began squealing and clapping and jumping around. Although jumping around was just a guess.

Lilly was at my house ten minutes later, and we stepped into the Hannah closet. I put my wig on, just to see if the clothes Lilly and I choose would compliment it just fine, or not. We had already picked out the outfit - hot pink sequined flowy dress top, jeans, brown boots, a cowboy hat and a denim bolero - when the doors suddenly opened.

"Hannah? What are you doing here?" a male voice asked in surprise.

Lilly and I exchanged worried glances.

Uh-oh, I thought, sighing heavily. Busted. How do I get out of this?

(A/N: So sorry for the incredibly late update and the hugely lame chapter. But here it is, anyway! I'm having second thoughts about continuing this, though, because you guys might not like the end. And, no, I'm not giving any spoilers. Just that, as I have said, you might not like the end. Tell me if I should or not, even if, as I said - I know, this is getting annoying, huh? - you might not like the end. Bah. I should go and update the other freakishly unupdated stories. Sorry for the, ahem, unrecognized words like "unupdated" and "stepsisterly" and others. Well, I'm off!)