Disclaimer: Umm, no? Why would I own Hannah Montana? I'm like...in my teens. I don't even have $400 in my bank account. But owning it…would be…rad. Ha...haha…ha.

By the way, this story is going to vary between perspectives.

-No One's Perspective-

There is a time in life where someone learns the boundary between just friends, and something more. When they reach that point, it's not just about the guy who breaks the girls heart, or the girl who set the boy up. It's about comforting them in every way just to try to make them see the world more clearly then what the person who crushed them left them in.

Because, when this time comes, the person in need will need your comfort more than anything. Even if it hurts, bear in mind that in the end, greater things may happen than when you began. And you'll leave with a bigger piece of your heart cured then when it was full.

-Lilly's Perspective-

School. Sometimes I think it's about as boring as watching Oliver try to balance a spoon on his nose. He's never going to get it. I just wish that sometimes the teachers might try to make lessons a little bit more fun, you know? Like, maybe if we studied the motion, matter, and mass of... say, Hannah Montana's wig! NOT the mass of deformed bacteria that got stuck in the nose on the way to the throat.

I just think that school is boring.

Nuff' said.

Anyways, it's now lunchtime, and I'm heading over to the table where Miley, Oliver and I sit. We've sat at this table since Freshman year. No one even bothers to sit with us anymore, because they know that it's kind of just "our thing". The only thing I don't like, is that Amber and Ashley are still there, sitting the next table down, always dissing on us.

But it's completely cool. Because ignoring people is a special skill of mine. I can just block them out, so they don't even bother me! It's great…

So now I'm at the table, waiting for Miley and Oliver. I can see the people in the lunch line, grimacing as they get handed the food that fills their stomach. That's why I bring my own lunch. The school's is disgusting. Like, the lunch ladies learned from a bunch of high class hobo's.

Anyways, here come Miley and Oliver. Miley looks flawless, she just kind of majestically flits her way to places. I love her hair, it kind of just flows. Oliver's, on the other hand, looks stiff and boring. Because that's what he is, stiff and boring. Like cardboard. Yeah, Oliver is like a piece of cardboard. He smells like it to.

Miley nonchalantly sat down, and looked at Oliver as he awkwardly squeezed his way into the spot next to me.

"Juice me," Oliver said. He says that every day. Mostly because he's a boy, and his raging hormones call for regular food breaks during the day. But also because I don't like juice. It's just not very appetizing to me, so I give it to him every lunch period.

I threw him my Capri Sun and watched him chug it down. Gross. He should go be an animal elsewhere, not right in front of me where I have to sit and absorb all the flicks of wetness coming off the straw as he slurps noisily.

"Settle down, Oliver. You're drinking juice, not making out with the girl you'll never have," Miley said. Insulting Oliver is almost a ritual we have. It's like, we can't… not do it. It's out of habit.

Sometimes I feel a little bad about it, because no one likes to be bashed on 24/7 by their two best friends. But it's what happens when a guy has two girl best friends. It ends up as the guy being the punching bag, and the girls ending up having great muscles.

I don't think Oliver minds though. He's grown up with us since preschool. He knows us well enough to know on a regular basis when we're PMSing, and when we're just in a bad mood.

He struggles, but we love him with all our hearts.

Anyways, Miley got up to leave because she said something about calling her dad to ask a question about Blue Jeans, her horse.

When she left, it almost looked like Oliver's face fell. Was he sad? Nah, he's probably just mad because she didn't have any food for him today. For I second there, I thought I saw a glint of something else in his eyes. But I guess not.

Well, the bell rang obnoxiously like it does every day at 12:20. Oliver and I rushed to our Algebra class next. Rushed, because Oliver tripped halfway there and his books went sprawling across the floor.

-Later that day-

Well, Algebra blew. And so did the rest of the day. There's nothing to do! Except for…well, learn. But besides that, it's my least favorite class.

I stopped by Miley's locker on my way to our next class to see if she had an extra pencil. It looked as if Oliver had already beaten me to it because Miley now had no extra pencils.

Now I was going to have to show up to class, totally unprepared, AND in a bad mood.

But it's fine. Because after school, it's summer! And Miley, Oliver and I are having our annual movie night sleepover at Miley's house!

I seriously can't wait for this! Every year it's been a lot of fun! So hopefully my mood will lighten up by the end of the day.

I cautiously walked up the door of my next class, ready for what was waiting inside. Probably just some more boring worksheets. I cringed at the thought of having to fill out one more survey about "how I want next year to improve my learning environment." I mean seriously, I'll be a junior. I don't think I'm going to care about school any more than I did in my earlier years of high school.

Last period I have history. Easy you say? No. Well, perhaps in the homework, worksheet type of way. But I mean, listening to the teacher drone on and on about absolutely nothing! Well, I'm sure it's about something, but I don't listen well enough to take a guess about what it's about.

I have high standards people need to fill. My entertainment level matters most. Because when I'm dazing out of a conversation, it takes a full elephant herd to get me back into it.

The whole time in history, I was daydreaming about the 360 on my skateboard that I needed to accomplish. I said I WAS, because halfway through one of the full circle spins, someone threw something at me. At first I thought it was just something in my dream. But when it happened again, I got annoyed and looked up.

It was Oliver, throwing pieces of his eraser at me. I looked at him questioningly. He pointed at my desk. There was a note on it.

I picked it up, and saw what was written on the front of it.

To: Lilly

I curiously glanced at the elegant script, and began unfolding it.

I was just curious to see what was inside, because I don't know whose hand writing this is. I mean, I suppose it could be from Oliver, but his hand writing is guy writing, it sucks.

So as soon as I started reading, I frowned when I saw who it was from.

It WAS from Oliver. Ugh, he should have warned me. I thought it might be from some unknown handsome prince who would sweep me off my feet and take me away. But nope. It's Oliver.

Dear Lilly,

I totally fooled you. My mom has been making me take stupid writing classes. The only writing they've been teaching us is this stupid cursive stuff. So now my hand writing is permanently chick-like. I'm not a girl! So stop thinking it. Anyways, I'm going to Miley's later for movie night. You going?

-Smoken' Oken

I quickly got out a pen, and started writing back.

Dear Oliver,

You're so stupid. I kind of figured it was you. But that's only because when I opened it, my eyes got lead to the REALLY bold thing at the bottom of the letter. It said "Smoken Oken." It almost looked as if it were bold just to catch someones attention and make them call them that! God, you're retarded sometimes. But anyways, yeah, I'm going. Duh! It's like a tradition! The only reason I wouldn't go is if… I died or something.

-Lilly Truscott

P.S. Don't call yourself Smoken Oken, you won't have any friends.

I tossed it back over to him. It hit him in the eye. Which I was pleased with myself for. I mean, he deserved it! He hit me in the arm. It's fair.

Anyways, he looked satisfied with this answer, so we sat through the rest of the lesson until the bell rang. Which was only about five minutes.

Soon enough, everyone was piling into the halls. People were cheering and screaming. I grabbed my backpack and skateboard out of my locker.

I put on my shin guards and helmet and met Miley by her locker.

She was applying some lip gloss. That's girl language for "there is definitely someone I need to impress, so whoever is standing by me just needs to ride her skateboard home and get ready for tonight".

I read her mind completely, and I made my way out of there!

I skateboarded down the sidewalk, knocking Oliver down on my way. I don't know if he was hurt or not. But even if he was, his mom would take care of it by telling him not to be a baby. She'd yell at him in her…Man Voice. Which I've only experienced once, but that was enough to scar just about anyone who crosses her path. It's…oh I don't know…frightening.

Anyways, I got up to my front door and opened it.

I ran upstairs and layed on my bed, waiting for the two hours until I had to be over at Miley's.