So this one is kind of weird, and yeah, I don't know what's up with the parentheticals, either. It just came out that way.

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately, because my bank account would really like it if they were.

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Another extravagant Hollywood Halloween party. This time sans evil look-alike cousin. (So three years ago.)

Costume party. Come-as-you-aren't night. Lilly goes as Lola. (She wears a headband with cat ears so Miley won't yell at her.)

Lilly doesn't know when she started to think of Lola as a different person. (Although, under pressure, she might admit it happened around the same time Lilly started to wonder what it would feel like to kiss her best friend. She isn't good under pressure.)

Lola, Lilly decides, is everything she isn't. Daughter of an oil baron, sister to socialites. Her outfits, her hair, her everything scream at you to notice her and simultaneously inform you in no uncertain terms that she doesn't give a shit what you think. (Lilly doesn't dress to get noticed, and secretly she hates that Amber and Ashley hate her.)

Lola is fearless.

Things that trip Lilly up, Lola takes in stride. Lola doesn't bat an eye at the thought that she might want to kiss another girl, might want to kiss her best friend. She's Lola Luftnagle, rich and glamorous and oh-so-sure of herself. (And if Lola sometimes wishes her best friend's hair was brown and wavy instead of straight and blonde, that's okay too. Because Miley and Lilly don't exist in Lola's world, any more than Hannah will ever walk the halls of Lilly's high school.)

The party is loud, bass vibrating the air and floor. Mini-quake. It thrums in Lola's eardrums and along her teeth. She can't tell what the song is, but it hardly matters. All the twisting, churning mass of glitter and silk on the dance floor needs is a beat. Hannah gets engulfed by the crowd as soon as they walk through the door. (See? Lola thinks. Everyone loves Hannah, why shouldn't she?)

Lola swallows her jealousy, and then a drink she lifts off a passing waiter's tray. Pumpkin-orange colored, but that does nothing to hide the bite of vodka. She slides through the crowd, searching for a glimpse of familiar blonde hair. Hollywood parties are all flash and glam, but Lola still stands out. People recognize her, stop her to talk. (Ask about Hannah.)

She snags another pumpkin-color-not-pumpkin-flavor drink and takes a sip every time they do. (The Hannah Montana Best Friend Drinking Game. Two sips if they remember Lola's first name. Drain the glass if they remember her last.)

The techno bass beat ends and someone cranks up Monster Mash. A collective groan from the dance floor. Then Hannah jumps on a tiny stage at the other end of the room, grabs the microphone, starts to sing along. (Hannah's only costume is mouse ears. No need to get people thinking too hard about what Hannah looks like when she doesn't look like Hannah.)

The tide changes, people shout approval. The dance floor pulses, roils with movement again. Everyone in the room is looking at Hannah. (Hannah's looking at Lola.)

Come-as-you-aren't, Lola thinks. She wonders if Hannah's thinking it, too. (Wonders what Hannah isn't.)

Halloween. Ghosts and monsters and the dead coming back to life. Anything can happen on Halloween. And Lola –

Lola can do anything.

The end of the graveyard smash: Hannah's off the stage. Lola stalks her. Cat-and-mouse. This mouse is hiding in the shadows of the curtains around the stage. But the ears are gone. Not a mouse anymore. (Maybe that's why she doesn't run.)

Lola pulls her ears off too. Stalks closer. Lola-and-Hannah. They face each other. Lola's heart pounds harder than the back-from-the-dead bass. But she isn't afraid. (She's Lola.)

She puts a hand on Hannah's waist. "You're drunk," Hannah says.

"Not that drunk," says Lola. "No one ever remembers my last name."

Hannah laughs. Lola hasn't told her about the drinking game, but Hannah knows anyway. (Best friends know everything about each other.)

Lola kisses her. Not an I'm-grateful-you're-my-friend Thanksgiving kiss. Not a caught-under-mistletoe-awkward-laugh Christmas kiss. Not even a no-date-and-it's-midnight New Year's Eve kiss. A Halloween kiss. (Werewolf-hungry. Haunts you when it's gone.)

Hannah edges fingers under Lola's wig, teases out a single strand of long, fair hair. Wraps it around her finger. "I should have gone as Lola," she says.

Blood made thin by adrenaline and alcohol races through Lola's veins. "Why?" she pants. (Hannah should have been the cat. Stealer of breath.)

"Lola likes blondes." Another kiss. Long and slow. Uncoils like a mummy's wrappings. (Lola can't remember what she isn't. Or who.)

"Let's go home," Lilly says. "I'm tired of these costumes."

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Okay, guys, have a happy Halloween! That's if you celebrate it, if not...well, at least it's Friday.