something more 002

May 24, 2009 16:41


Title:
Something More
Fandom: Hannah Montana
Rating: PG (Just to be safe, although I personally feel it's very G)
Pairings: None.
Summary: Lilly is struggling with her parent's divorce and the meaning of life.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Notes/Warnings: This is the first installment of my Faith Series, which means it's Christian-based. If that offends you, then don't read it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana, or anything else you might recognize.


Chapter Two
I’m sitting in front of the computer researching Shakespeare. Pretty boring, I know, but it needs to be done. I have an essay to write for English class. I’d ask Miley to help me study, but she’s too busy being Hannah Montana.
You know, people would probably think its cool to have a best friends who’s famous, but it’s kind of hard. There’s a lot of things we miss out on, because she’s got this whole other life she needs to live. She’s very good at balancing her life, but it seems like (lately, at least) the times I need her the most, she’s too busy. For example, last night my mom totally freaked on me for no reason. She yelled at me for being irresponsible and not watering the plants and said that I’m worthless. That’s totally not like my mom and I wanted to call Miley about it. But yet again, she was busy being Hannah.
I’ve been locked up in my room for three hours, working on this essay. My moms out on a date. Even though my mom and I are really close, I can see and feel her slipping away. She’s getting angry, and sad, and disconnected. That’s how its been for the past three days. I feel like my moms gone away and someone else has taken over her body.
I really wish I knew what was going on with my mom. And I also really wish I had someone who was there for me 24/7. I know that sounds kind of selfish, but sometimes, I feel like I’m about to snap or fall apart and nobody is there to help me. And even when someone is there, I don’t know how to talk to them. How do you tell someone you’re not what you appear? You’re more than just a bubbly, somewhat ditzy blonde, who likes skating. Would they even believe I’m like every other human; I have my flaws, worries, and sadness?
I spend the next few hours finished up my essay. I hear my mom come in as I’m about to save the file. “Lilly,” she says sing-song, “I’m home!”. I ignore her for the time being and save my essay.
“Lilly, come down here!” She shouts.
I force myself away from the computer and comfort of my room and go outside of my room. I follow the stairs down; my thoughts a confusing blend of Rome and Juliet, love, death, my own loneliness, and my mother’s voice, that I almost trip while walking down. Surprisingly, I make it down the stairs safely. I see my mother with a big smile on her face and McDonald’s paperback.
I could smell the french fries and in the distance, toward the kitchen, I could smell a McFlurry. I smile happily and hungrily at my mother and snatch the bag away from her. I find a Big Mac and french fries, and begin eating like a starving animal. “Wheresh my McFurry?” I ask with my mouth full.
“Honey, you have got to learn to act like a girl! How do you ever expect to get a boyfriend?” my mom says,. I knew she was joking, but her words really hurt. Miley tells me the same thing all the time. Very few boys have truly showed an interest in me the way I am, so I guess its the truth.
“I know, Mom.”
I follow her into the kitchen and am happy to see and smell the blended ice cream with Oreos. I dip my french fries in the sweet, thick mix. Call me crazy, but shakes, ice cream, and anything else similar taste awesome with French fries.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re pregnant.” My mother looked at me and rolled her eyes. “When did you start doing that?”
“Since forever,” I say kind of annoyed.
“Huh.” She walks away, leaving me to my sweet food.
I don’t realize that she didn’t ask how my day was, or what happened at school, or any other parent questions, until I’m getting ready for bed. I know I hate those nosy questions, but it’s kind of nice to know my mom cares. Why is she so off? Again, I want to tell Miley about this, but she’s too busy and I don’t know how. So, instead I grab my diary. I write a poem:
I’m two people meshed into one
And like everyone else, I wear a mask
It’s made of pink ribbons; and starting to come undone
There’s two big weights strapped to my heart
One I call Guilt. The other Loneliness
I can really feel my world falling apart
I lay my diary down, and close my eyes. I dream of being Lola; I have a big happy family and am best friends with Hannah Montana. Everything is simple. I am loved and happy.
When I wake up, I realize those images were but a dream. I can smell pancakes and eggs and bacon. I throw my blankets off me and run downstairs to the kitchen.
“You’re in a good mood,” My mom says as she notices me.
I want to ask her if she’s blind, but instead I sit at the table awaiting my breakfast. I have school today, so I figure I need it to get my brain working. Besides, I love food!
“Here you go.” My mom places two big fluffy pancakes onto the orange plate before me.
“Thanks,” I smile.
As I eat, I notice my mom is wearing her cross necklace. I suddenly remembered the very important conversation I had with Miley. “Mom, what religion are we?”
“Uh,” she seemed a bit confused by this simple question, “Christian? Why?”
I poke at my pancakes with a fork, “I was just wondering.”
Suddenly, my mom gets a very sad expression on her face. “I used to go to church with your dad,” she says in a quiet voice. “You were baptized there...” and she began to ramble more to herself. As she walked away with her bacon and orange juice I heard her say something, but I’m not sure what exactly.
I feel very empty and bothered after that, so I try to block the whole thing out. I get dressed and ready for school and print out my essay.
I meet Miley on my way into English class. She has bags under her eyes, but the rest of her is flawless. She has her hair straightened today, and it looks pretty nice! She’s wearing her Miley necklace and an expensive pair of Hannah’s shoes.
“Sup?” I say, as I sit in the desk next to her.
“Not much. I’m totally tired.” she then told me all about last nights gig. I started zoning out, and I didn’t hear the last few sentences. It doesn’t matter though, because here comes the teacher.
“Good morning!” he says, with a big smile on his face. And as soon as he begins to talk about today’s lesson, I drown into my daydreams.

!fanfiction: hannah montana, something more

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