Miley sat at the piano, her shoulders drooping, and played the melody of the new song her father had written for her. She was trying to stay optimistic, but she looked anguished as she sang the words:
Dang flabbit, where’s that rabbit
He’s got a habit of running away
Hey, honey, where’s that bunny
He took my money, that ain’t okay
Hey, hey, hey, bunn-ay
She had called her best friends, Lilly Truscott and Oliver Oken, to tell them about this very serious situation and they had rushed right over. Now they were listening to her sing with identical looks of horror on their faces.
Still, Lilly tried to sound encouraging. “Well, it certainly . . . rhymes.”
Oliver nodded. “With a good band . . .” he began to suggest.
Jackson bobbed his head up and down in agreement. “Good band,” he repeated enthusiastically.
He would say anything to get Miley to like this song. If she didn’t, Jackson knew that their dad would be back in a funk . . . and he could forget about having a party ever again!
“Some backup vocals . . .” Oliver went on. He looked over at Jackson.
“Backup vocals!” Jackson cried brightly, echoing Oliver again.
Miley shook her head. She knew they were trying to cheer her up, but it wasn’t changing the fact that the song was bad. Really bad.
“And it’ll still be a song about bunnies!” she wailed.
“Which could become an Easter classic,” Oliver pointed out.
“Classic,” Jackson said persuasively.
“This is horrible,” Miley groaned. “I’ve never hated one of his songs before. How am I going to tell him?”
“Maybe you won’t have to,” Jackson said, trying to sound positive. “I mean, maybe he’ll think about it, realize that it’s horrible and then fix it before he shows it to you.”
Just then, Mr. Stewart came into the house from the deck. He had just returned from his run and was carrying a newspaper he’d picked up while he was out. “Hey, everybody!” he called out.
Miley quickly hid the sheet music.
“Hey, Daddy!” she exclaimed.
Lilly, Oliver, and Jackson all started talking at once to cover up what they had been discussing. “Hey. Hi. What’s up?” they said. “How’s it going?”
Miley shot them all an exasperated look. When they finally fell silent, she turned back to her dad. “So, Daddy, how was your jog?”
“It was great,” he answered, taking a deep breath. “But I keep thinking about that new song.”
“Really?” Miley asked, her voice full of hope.
“What song?” Lilly asked, trying to sound innocent.
Oliver picked up on what Lilly was trying to do and decided to help out. Of course, being Oliver, he went completely overboard.
“Oh, you wrote a song? Who knew? Interesting.” He paused thoughtfully. Then he blurted out one word: “Easter.”
Miley and Lilly both elbowed him.
He jumped and started babbling on, trying to save the moment.
“Uh, island,” he said quickly. “Easter Island. Uh, we’re studying it at school. Big statues. Nobody knows how they got there. Weird.”
“Yeah, really weird!” Lilly jumped in. “So, so strange.”
Mr. Stewart looked from Lilly to Oliver, then shrugged. “I would ask what’s going on, but then you’d tell me. And why would I want that?”
Miley decided it was time to ease her dad back to a more important topic of conversation. “So, Daddy, uh, you were thinking about the song?” she said casually.
“Nothing wrong with that, just, uh, keep on thinking!” Then she gave him a serious look. “Please,” she added.
Her father walked over to the refrigerator to get a drink. “Yeah, well, you know how sometimes you write something and then you take another look at it later and it’s not as good as you thought?”
Miley’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
He grinned. “Well, this isn’t one of those times!” he exclaimed.
Her face dropped. “It isn’t? Are you sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he answered happily. “I mean, this song is great! And I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I play it for you on Monday.”
And with that, he headed out of the room. Once he was gone, Miley shared a look of dismay with her friends and her brother.
“What are you going to do?” Oliver asked Miley.
“Stick my head in the freezer,” Miley groaned. “Please defrost me when you find a cure for this song.”
Jackson decided it was time to step in. “I will tell you what she’s going to do, all right? She’s going to tell him she loves it. Why? Because she’s a wonderful daughter who doesn’t want to break her father’s heart.”
Miley, Lilly, and Oliver all gave him a skeptical look.
“This is still about your party, right?” Lilly asked.
Jackson threw up his hands in exasperation. “Look, Max has already invited fifty people and reserved a deli platter in my name!”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Jackson’s right,” Miley said, flopping down on the couch. She thought about how happy her dad was about the new song. “He’s worked so hard on this song and he’s so proud of it. I’ve got to tell him I love it.”
Lilly and Oliver nodded. They knew Miley was right—but they also knew how hard it was for her to sing something she hated.
“You know what, Miley, it’ll be okay,” Oliver said encouragingly. “So Hannah sings one clunker. Big deal.”
“Yeah, and the video will be cute,” Lilly said, sitting down next to Miley. “You, surrounded by giant, dancing bunnies. Right?” She sang a line of the song in the happiest voice possible. “‘I’m the bunny who stole your money. Ooh, ooh.’”
Miley shot her a look, and Lilly stopped singing. “I’m not helping, am I?” she asked.
“No,” Miley answered.
Jackson took the seat on the other side of Miley and put his arm around her. “Miles, if it makes you feel any better, I know this is kind of hard on you . . .” he began in a very un-Jackson-like way. Then he reverted to his old self. “. . . but my life . . . is so good right now! Boo-ya!” he yelled, racing upstairs.
Miley sighed. How was she going to get herself out of this one?