𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 ¥ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀

"𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭?"

Miley Stewart aka Hannah Montana aka this generation's greatest teen pop sensation grinned mischievously, "Sorry, I'm sold out."

Jackson grunted, "Dad!"

Robby kept  a weary eye on the angry girl with a whisk, "Think about it this way Miley, he goes out with the girl, they fall in love, they get married, he moves out."

"You got the tickets."

The phone rang, and Miley locked it up. She looked back at her family a moment later, "Lily alert in eighteen seconds!"

Miley yanked off her blonde wig revealing the dark brown tresses underneath, tossing it to their dad who quickly reached across the island to snatch the pink wig off Ophelia's head, revealing her tightly braided down hair.

"She's your best friend, Miley, sooner or later you'll have to tell her you're Hannah Montana," Jackson quipped helping her throw on a sweater.

"I pick later."

"Nine seconds get the juice!" Their dad called as he took a seat on the stairs.

Ophelia did not look up from her angry whisking prompting Miley to sprint towards the fridge from the living room. "Got it!"

"Good!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

Jackson opened the doors just as Lily Truscott came barrelling in on her skateboard.

"Guess who just landed, three tickets to the hottest concert in town!" Lily grinned coming to a stop in the kitchen, "Ofie, Miley, you and I, I being your best friend are going to see the one, the only, Hannah Montana! Woo!"

Miley froze.

Lily stared at Miley expectantly, "You're not screaming, why aren't you screaming?!"

"Oh, believe me, she's screaming on the inside," Jackson snickered.

Lily looked at Ophelia with furrowed brows, "Did you hear a single thing I said?!"

Ophelia's whisking came to a sudden halt and she looked up with furrowed brows. "Two days ago I learned that spaghetti is plural and one piece of spaghetti is called a spaghetto," she said suddenly looking beyond miffed as she peered blankly ahead of her. "I absorbed that piece of information without truly understanding the ramifications of such a discovery," she leaned forward resting her elbows on the counter, "Because if one spaghetti is a spaghetto then that means that one piece of confetti is a confetto, one piece of graffiti is a graffito. If I go to the ice cream man and ask for a cornetto and then ask for another one does that mean I have cornetti?" She inquired looking absolutely horrified by the knowledge that she was unfolding.

"Not again," Robby sighed standing up, "It's the La Brea Tar Pits all over again," he muttered.

"Do I really own stilettos or are they stiletti?" Ophelia looked at her sister and their best friend who was staring at her in silent confusion and terror, "I've spent the past forty-eight hours reading about the etymology of Italian lone words and now I know the plural to piano is piani! Make it stop!" Her eye twitched dangerously.

"Come on, baby," Robby stepped up behind her and picked his nearly thirteen-year-old off her stool. "Someone needs a nap before she gives herself a nosebleed," he sighed herding her up the stairs.

"Did you know the singular of gnocchi is gnoccho? I can't—!"

"I know, sweetheart."

~~~~