Later that day, Jackson was hanging out at the Surf Shack with some friends and feeling pretty good. He’d hosted some legendary blowouts in the past, but tonight’s party was going to take awesome to a whole new level! And now that the word was out that the Stewarts’ house was going to be rockin’, everyone wanted to come. Jackson knew he had to make sure he kept the guest list under control.
“Yo, Jackson,” a voice said behind him. “I’m bringing a few extra people to your party.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. Here we go, he thought.
“Sorry, dude, there’s no—” Jackson began to say as he turned around. Then he saw the enormous, muscled guy standing behind him. It was Wayne, who was known throughout the school for being a bully.
“Hey,” Jackson said with a gulp. “Yeah, dude, of course. Bring whoever you want. Uh, by the way, love the T-shirt.” He leaned in closer and read its slogan out loud. IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE HIT.
That was enough warning for Jackson! He jumped out of the way, truly frightened.
Wayne laughed. “You’re a funny little dude,” he said.
“Thanks, man,” Jackson said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“But if your party stinks, I’m going to rearrange your face,” Wayne added in a menacing tone.
“As well you should,” Jackson replied weakly.
Once Wayne was safely gone, Jackson’s friend Max walked over to where Jackson was standing. “Dude, I cannot believe the buzz on this party!” Max said. “Girls are saying ‘hi’ to me just because I know you! How did you get your dad to say yes to this?”
Jackson shifted his feet nervously. “Well, as you know, it’s just a matter of psychology, timing, and a little sprinkle—”
“And you haven’t asked him yet, have you?” Max interrupted, giving Jackson a knowing look.
“Okay, technically, no,” Jackson admitted. “But I’m on my way to ask him right now. And trust me, he’s going to be in a great mood.”
Max shook his head. “He better be,” he warned Jackson. “You cancel this party, you’re going to spend the rest of high school eating lunch with the Chess Club! You know how many cute girls are in the Chess Club? Zero.”
“Well, I thought your girlfriend was in the Chess Club,” Jackson said, nodding toward a girl sitting on the beach. She was wearing a CHESS ROCKS T-shirt.
When she saw them looking in her direction, she waved. Jackson and Max politely waved back, but Max’s smile looked forced.
“That’s why I need this party,” he said under his breath to Jackson. “Really, really badly.”
Jackson nodded, even as he and Max kept smiling and waving at Max’s girlfriend. He knew the stakes were high, and he was determined to throw a party that would go down in history!
When Jackson got home, he walked into the kitchen. He was a little nervous about approaching his dad to ask about the party, but he thought he had really mastered the art of persuasion in recent years— especially if he did a little buttering up first.
“Dad?” he called out.
“Just out of the shower!” Mr. Stewart yelled out from upstairs. “Down in a few!”
“You take your time, you brilliant songwriter,” Jackson shouted back. It was never too soon to start the buttering-up process. In fact, maybe he should lay it on a little thicker. “You hero and role model,” he added.
But Mr. Stewart knew his son well. “Whatever you broke, fix it or bury it in the yard,” he called out as he turned on a hair dryer.
Then Jackson spied Lucky Lulu, his dad’s favorite guitar, back on its stand. “Yes! Yes!” he exclaimed to himself, excited. “He’s got Lucky Lulu back, he’s blow-drying. It’s a perfect storm of Dad happiness!”
Miley walked in the door, looking tired and frazzled. “Dad,” she called out. “Dad, I have to talk to you.”
Jackson’s gleeful expression suddenly turned to one of panic. “Oh, no, here we go again!” he yelled. “Miley, stop!”
“Jackson, I’m sorry about your party, but I can’t do this anymore,” Miley said. “I’ve got to tell Daddy the truth.”
“No!” he shouted. “No, no, no, you don’t! You’re just sleepwalking! Come on, Miles, ups-a-daisy!” He snapped his fingers in her face.
“Stop that!” Miley demanded. “Stop it. I’m awake!”
“Of course you are,” her brother said calmly. “Now, come here.”
He guided her into the kitchen.
“Jackson—” Miley began to protest. Now that she had decided to tell her father the truth, she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Jackson didn’t let her finish. “Look, I know you’re supposed to wake a sleepwalker gently, but you leave me no choice,” he said. “Desperate times call for loud cookware.”
He grabbed two frying pans and banged them together several times in front of her face—loudly.
Miley stared at him for a moment. “I’m still awake and you’re still an idiot,” she said, annoyed.
Just then, their father’s voice floated down from the upstairs bathroom. “What the heck is going on down there?”
This was her opening! Miley called back, “Daddy, I—”
“Nothing!” Jackson interrupted loudly. “Nothing, nothing. We’re just cooking you dinner, handsome! Keep working on the ’do, we’ll see you in a few!”
He leaned close and said, right into Miley’s ear, “Please, please, please, wake up!”
She pulled back with a grimace. “I’m still awake, you’re still an idiot, and now my ear is full of spit.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Let me rinse it out for you.” He grabbed a pitcher from the counter and threw water in Miley’s face. She gasped with shock, then grabbed him by the nose.
“Do you believe I’m awake now?” she asked dangerously.
“Yes,” Jackson said, his voice somewhat strained because of her grip on his nose. “I do.”
Miley let go. “Listen, Jackson. Awake or asleep, I’m still telling Dad the truth.”
“No, you can’t!” Jackson cried. “Look, my reputation and the current arrangement of my face depend on it,” he said, thinking of Wayne.
“Maybe next time your face shouldn’t throw a party without getting permission first!” Miley said, exasperated. “Listen, Jackson, I’m sorry, but I respect Dad too much to lie to him.”
Mr. Stewart was walking down the stairs just as Miley finished her sentence. When he heard this, he stopped on the landing. Miley’s back was to him, so she didn’t see him, but Jackson did.
“Miley—” Jackson said in a warning tone.
Miley thought Jackson was still trying to keep her from talking to her dad. “No!” she said firmly. “Jackson, this song is a joke. It’s embarrassing. And no matter how much it hurts, I have to tell him that I found it and it’s the worst song he’s ever written.”
“Miley!” Jackson raised his voice, hoping that would stop her.
But she kept going. “It may be the worst song ever written.”
Suddenly, Miley sensed that someone else was in the room, and she finally picked up on what Jackson had been trying to tell her. She turned to see her father. “I did say ‘may be,’” she added weakly.
“I heard it,” Mr. Stewart said, shocked at what he had just overheard. “I just can’t believe it.”
And with that, he walked out onto the deck. Oh, no, Miley thought. This wasn’t the way I wanted to break the news to him at all!