"Par-lay voo frahn-say?"

"Oui, je parle francais."

"Yeah, you lost me."

With a sheepish smile, she sits back down into the wooden desk and rolls her pencil between her fingers. She ignores the teacher's exasperated look before he turns around to the board in front of the room and stares at the notebook in front of her. There's something different about it today. It's the usual color, only something's off; something subtle.

"Mademoiselle Stewart?"

She hears him say something that she can only guess is about dogs or milkshakes. The man shakes his head and sighs.

"Are you okay, Stewart?"

She nods as the bell rings and signals the end of the day. The teacher dismisses them, moving to behind his wooden desk where he will work late into the depths of night to grade piles of homework.

Or maybe he'll just head home.

She wonders if he's one of the few teachers that I dedicated to their job while she walks amongst the faceless students to her locker down the hallway. The jumble and pushing of elbows from the people around her cause her to lose her direction. Soon the halls are clear and she finds herself walking aimlessly down a deserted hallway.

"Miley?" The voice comes from somewhere behind her; turning, she finds herself standing in the presence of Oliver Oken.

"Hello." She says, politely smiling at the book-ridden boy.

"Hi."

They stand in silence before Oliver breaks it by asking why she's still in the school.

"I'm looking for my locker." She says, turning to the locker closest to her and looking up at the bronze numbers etched on top.

386

"What's your number?" He asks, looking at the lockers on the other side of the hallway.

"Three-Eight-Six." She says, reaching for the lock that stood out brightly on the old, blue-painted lockers.

He chuckles before saying a goodbye and leaving the girl in her own mind.

--

Do you ever wish that you could go back in time? Back to when time didn't matter; when you could go outside until the moon was shining and not having to come in until your parents call you from the open window. Yesterday, I dreamt that I was walking down a sidewalk. It was bright outside, the sky was a pale blue, and I could hear birds chirping and whistling. I kept walking and then I saw the most beautiful sight.

Remember those old books, the ones by Shel Silverstein? Well, a certain one in particular: Where The Sidewalk Ends. I never really read the book but I remember the first time I heard the title. It made me wonder where the sidewalk did end. I would think about it for days and nights but I could never really grasp the thought of the sidewalk just ending; and what would be at the end, if it just so happened to end.

Anyways, last night, I could see the end of the sidewalk. There were two trees that bent apart from each other and you could gaze through them if you were close enough. I didn't get too close because Jackson woke me up by banging on my door.

I was so close to finding out what was on the other side of where the sidewalk ended.

--

"Hey," She has a sly smile as she slides onto the bench, "what're you still doing here?"

Blushing, the brunette moves a piece of hair from her eyes and sets it behind her ear, "I've been asked that a lot today."

"And are you going to give me the same answer as you gave them?" She grins, sliding slightly closer to the brunette.

"Maybe."

They share a laugh before turning to face the soccer field where the team is practicing in blue and gold mesh jerseys. It's nearing four in the afternoon, the sun is still high in the sky and the two girls continue to sit side by side just enjoying the others presence.

"Hey," she moves a piece of blonde hair from her face. "You know how we made cupcakes at my house a couple days ago?"

"Yeah, of course I do." The brunette smiles, "We didn't have any frosting so we used Cool Whip, how could anyone forget that?"

They laugh, and slip into silence again. It's not a totally relaxed silence but more of the kind where a question hangs in the air which is makes sense because there's still a question on the tip of a certain blonde's tongue.

"So," she starts, leaning backwards, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Can I ask why you're always carrying around that notebook?"

The brunette continues to stare at the soccer players moving around the field, her eyes avoiding the blonde's carefully. The blonde just sits, waiting for the other to open up, knowing that life isn't worth it if you don't take risks.

"You can."

They continue to sit long after the girl utters those words in something above a whisper; both are thinking, wondering what the other could be thinking of, not knowing they're both wanting to open up and let their secrets be known to each other.

--

She lies in bed with her blue comforter wrapped around her and the pillow under her head. She's dreaming a little dream, eyes closed and her breathing deep; the birds are outside her window, chirping to one another, causing the girl to stir.

Above her bed there's a picture frame on top of a simple wooden shelf that holds a photograph of a beautiful woman in a white and yellow summer dress. There are flowers as the print, with hints of green around their edges. The woman is elegant; her smile bright, her eyes even brighter; beside her are two children with smiles just as big as hers. One is a young Jackson, and the other is an even younger Miley.

The photograph sits on the shelf, never moving, never changing. The light shines on it every day because Miley makes sure it has the chance to. There are days when she wonders why this picture means so much to her.

Is it because she simply loves the look on all their faces on that day, how that day never seems to fade from her mind, and how it was simply one of the best days of her life?

Or could it be because she knows that that moment, if ever given the chance, she would go back and make everything right; make sure her mom wouldn't leave to go to the PTA Meeting that night.

The alarm starts a soft beeping, much quieter than the birds outside her window, but slowly getting louder with each passing second. Miley smiles as she wakes, sitting up in bed and leaning over to shut off the noise before climbing out of bed and moving to the window just in time to see the birds fly away and Lilly skateboarding past her window towards the skate park a few blocks away. The blonde glances up and waves at the just-risen girl in the window with a smile hugely painted on her face.

Miley waves back and reminds herself to call the girl later to see if she'd want to walk with her to the beach later. Her smile never falters as she turns around and, for the first time in a long time, doesn't glance at the photograph sitting above her bed; maybe because today, it seems to not shine as bright as it did the day before.

AN: So, thanks everyone who read or reviewed, or did both. I apologize for not getting this up sooner, I had half of this written, and just managed to get the last part. Hopefully, the next chapter should be up sooner. Thanks, again.

Disclaimer: I Don't own anything you recognize.