Girls' Bathroom, Monday Afternoon

[its-theclimb.livejournal.com]

Even after her shower, there was no getting rid of the aftertaste: This weekend had been appalling.

Art class had helped, Miley had to admit. But the fact was that she was reading into what had happened and learning from it, in the spirit of traumatizing episodes of Disney Channel shows. Learning a LOT. Hannah Montana couldn't control her life. She had to be Miley first and foremost, because that was herself and Miley had to stay true to that. But maybe she couldn't be so high-strung about her secret life, either. What if the reason "Hannah" had broken free and done all those bad things was because she, Miley, was wound too tightly about her double life?

There had to be a balance, she decided, stepping out of the shower and scrutinizing herself in the mirror. And that balance started today. Right now, actually.

She took her phone out of her bathrobe pocket (don't ask why it was in there) and began a text to Jackson. Get Siena on Skype, she wrote, before she could talk herself out of it. Maybe telling her secret to one more person for her brother's benefit would be exactly what she needed to calm down, just a little.

And then she would never wear leather booty-shorts again.