Hey people! This is just a small story based on the season 1 episode "My Way". I'm just adding Keely's thoughts and stuff. It's in Keely's POV throughout the whole thing. Remember to read my other story which I still will work on, even if I'm doing this one! It's called Rock a Bye Keely. :) Okay. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own "My Way" and I soooz don't own POTF either.

I was walking to my next class with my friend Phil Diffy. I was a bit flustered and all, so basically I had to ask him where I was supposed to go next. I was stopped when I saw a bunch of people crowding around something on the bulletin. Usually, nobody paid attention to stupid, school bulletins, which then meant either Mr. Messerschmidt died somehow, or there was a special important notice that everybody was interested in.

"Huh. Looks like Mr. Hackett finally got some nibbles on his minivan," Phil, the adorably cute guy, otherwise known as "Keely's best friend/boyfriend." Well, you know…a boy…that's my friend. I squinted at the sheet of paper everybody was signing, and my heart leaped.

"No, they're signing up for the H.G. Wells Star of the Future competition " I said sort of excitedly. Phil looked at me and I read the description aloud. "Become the prince or princess of Pickford pop." Hehe, that's a lot of P's.

"Hmm…I wonder what the prince of Pickford pop picks up in the way of perks." I smiled to myself for a second. I always liked when he did these small games with me. It made me feel…special. Loved. I put on a more serious face and replied to him.

"Plenty of parades, parties, and…a…" I strained my brain to think of another word that began with P. I couldn't think of any decent words, and I blurted out, "…porcupine." Phil stared at me weirdly, probably debating whether or not I was a freak. "No porcupine, I was just out of P's."

Thankfully, Pim came up to us from behind, and it took our minds off of my temporary stupidity.

"Here it is," she said, holding up a bag of all purpose flour. "Reason number 3,005 why I hate this stupid century and everyone in it." I looked down.

"You hate flour," Phil observed. "I can see not liking flour, but hating it…" Pim cut him off.

"It's not flour, it's my baby!'

We looked at each other, thinking that Pim must have gone mental or something.

"It's for my stupid Life Skills class," she explained. "Two people have to pretend this," she gestured to the flour, "is a baby and take care of it for a week." Oh. That explains it. "And you won't believe the dillweed I got for a partner."

"Ah...there's the little woman!" A voice called out.

"Little?" Pim asked. "I wouldn't be tossing around the L word if I were you, Thumbelina." I smiled. He was on the short side.

"I was thinking…let's name him Bradley Benjamin Farmer, Junior." Pim crossed her arms, obviously disgusted.

"Oh, great. Then his nickname will be "Doofus Finkelman Dork-face Part Two!" And with that, she threw up her hands in exasperation and stalked off.

Bradley Benjamin Farmer turned to us. "New mothers can be so temperamental." He left too. Just then, another voice came up to us. I wasn't really thrilled to hear THIS voice. I rolled my eyes.

"You gonna stand there all day, Teslow?" The voice could only belong to the one, the only, Tara Schrader. I frowned.

"If I feel like it, Schrader." She rolled her eyes and stepped forward to the sign up sheet, pushing us out of the way a bit harshly, as if she was the greatest thing in the world.

Phil finally decided to say something. "Competing in the Star of the Future thing, Tara?" She finished signing her name and turned back to us.

"Excuse me? It's Tara." She added emphasis on her name so it sounded like "Tuh-Rah". "And I'm not competing," She gave us a snobby smile. "I'm winning." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "I can't help it, though. I come from a showbiz family."

"Showbiz. Your father is the weatherman on channel 36." He pointed out. She nodded.

"Yeah, just because you know when it's gonna be windy before everyone else don't make you the bizom," I said.

"Keely, I noticed YOUR name wasn't on the sign up sheet." I looked at her pointedly. "Good thing, though, 'cause if it were, the forecast would call for 100 percent chance of choking. Bleah!" I looked down again. That hurt… She walked away, satisfied.

"Huh. I always thought her name was Tara," Phil said.

I glared at her retreating figure. "I. Can't. Stand. Her." I spoke through gritted teeth. Oh god…Keely. You're approaching another one of your famous ramblings…STOP! But I didn't, even if I knew once I started rambling, I couldn't stop. "I wish a building wound fall on her!" Another idea popped into my head. "I wish she'd get stung by a 50-pound bee!" I talked and talked, not showing signs of stopping anytime in the near future. I was still talking after school at Phil's house.

"…I wish a dog would mistake her as a fire hydrant. I wish the U.S. women's soccer team would use her as a ball—"

"Hey, what about running her over with a steamroller, huh?" Phil said. He played those three notes that would usually sound after a comedian said a funny line on his drums.

"Phil, grow up!"

"I'm sorry. Just trying to help. What is it with you two anyway?"

I rolled my eyes once again. "I don't want to talk about it." I folded my arms and turned away from him.

"Okay," Phil said. I realized that I did want to talk about it. After all, I told Phil everything. I sighed.

"It was in third grade," I recalled. Phil listened intently. "I had a bad experience in our Thanksgiving pageant."

"What happened?"

"I was playing a pumpkin. So, I had to sing a pumpkin song."

"How, exactly, does a pumpkin song go?" Man, I have to sing that song for him, don't I? I cleared my throat.

"We live in New England and winters are cold,

And conditions are quite hard for living." I glanced at Phil.

He smiled. "Great voice--" But I wasn't done with the song yet.

"So you'll bring the gravy, and I'll bring the turkey

And we'll have a Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Awesome! So, how'd it go over at the pageant?"

"Eh…" I hated that experience. The pictures formed back into my memory slowly, and I explained what I remembered what happened to Phil. "Tara was Thanksgiving Queen, so I had to kneel at her feet and do my song. But I looked out, saw all those people in the audience…opened my mouth to sing…" I paused. "Then I threw up on Tara's slippers." I said that last part faster than I did the others.

Phil laughed slightly. "Whoops."

"Actually, it's more like…" I imitated a retching noise. "Instead of hearing about turkey and gravy, the audience got to see it."

"And that was the last time?"

"No…I threw up last summer at Yodel's Ice Cream Parlor."

"I meant, that was the last time you performed?" He said. "That's what Tara meant by choking?"

I nodded. "Stage fright. Which completely stinks, because," Maybe I shouldn't tell him about what I really dream of doing. Oh well. Here goes nothing… "there goes my dream." My voice quieted.

"Dream?"

"I never told you this, but I've always dreamed of someday becoming a singer."

Phil blinked. "I thought you wanted to become a cat psychologist."

"That's my cover."

"Keel, if your dream is to become a singer, then you should sign up for the Star of the Future tryouts." I knew I really wanted to, but I admit, I guess I was still scared… What if I made a complete fool of myself again?

"Phil! Do you not get the point of the whole puking story?"

He stayed calm, even If my voice was getting louder and higher. "Yeah, you gotta conquer your fears."

I stood up abruptly. "I'm afraid of my fears!" I whined. I swallowed, trying not to make a bigger scene than what I was already doing. "That's why they're called "fears"."

"Well, that was a long time ago. You're older now, I think you can do this." He had stood up in front of me.

"Really?" I asked timidly.

"I promise." I smiled back at him. "Uh…just to be on the safe side, before tryouts, eat a light breakfast."