Standford University Office Of Undergraduate Admissions, Tuesday Morning
Well, the weekend had detained her slightly -- first because of stupid Portalocity and their weird weekend rules, and then because she'd found herself spending quite a bit of time getting to know her apparent fake future son Cash -- but finally on Tuesday morning, Miley managed to book herself a portal with only one stop (which she took advantage of in order to don her wig and change clothes in the ladies' room) before she got to Standford.
She sauntered into the admissions office, phone to her ear as she prepared to fake a conversation with her "assistant," Miley Stewart.
''Yes, Miley, the directions you gave me were perfect as usual," she chirped, making sure she was in sight and earshot of the admissions officer before continuing. "Now, if only I could find that competent and very attractive admissions woman that you described, I could -- oh, wait! There she is! Kiss, kiss! 'Bye!"
She hung up her zPhone, flashing a huge smile at the admissions officer. "Miley Stewart," she said, pointing to the phone. "Best assistant any international pop sensation has ever had." Even if she hadn't been lying off her ass about the assistant thing, that definitely wouldn't be true. Holding out her hand, she said, "You must be -- "
"Mrs. Jameson," the admissions woman said. "Oh my gosh, it really is you!" Heh. Starstruckness. Miley could deal with starstruckness. "I thought she was just one of those desperate types that would do or say anything to get in. I mean, she did this --" she gestured -- "'Standford, whooo' thing that was, well -- borderline creepy."
...well, then.
"I'll pass it along," Miley said dryly. "The girl loves constructive criticism, plays well with others, and is an avid flosser." She pointed at her mouth. "Healthy gums," she said, then pointed in the direction of her head -- "healthy mind."
Mrs. Jameson looked riveted, of course.
"Now, if you could just give me that orientation package, I'll, uh, take it with me. Help save you the postage." See that huge smile as she was sticking her hand out, Mrs. Jameson? See it? How could she possibly have an ulterior motive here?
And yet she continued to look unconvinced. Odd, that. "Ah," she said tentatively, "Miss Montana--"
"No worries!" Miley interrupted cheerily. "Just my way of contributing to higher education!" She leaned in a little and added, "But I will need a receipt for tax purposes."
Charming, Miley.
"It -- it isn't that," Mrs. Jameson said after a minute. "It's just that -- apparently Miley misunderstood." That got Miley to back off quick. Her face fell and she pulled her hand back, looking unsure. "I didn't say that this would get her in, I said that we'd reconsider her application. But even if we do accept her, she goes to the end of the waiting list."
Oh god, Miley's eye twitch from last week was back in full force. "The, the," she started to stammer, "th-th-th-th-the waiting list?"
Yeah, she needed to lie down. Failing that, though, she was at least going to take a seat in one of those uncomfortable-looking chairs. Because really now.
"Look, Miley's a wonderful applicant," Mrs. Jameson offered, trying to be helpful, "it's just that the information came a little late! And the board only makes exceptions in very rare circumstances -- like, for example, if you were applying."
Old red-haired lady who had quickly become the bane of Miley's existence say what?
"Me?" Miley repeated, flabbergasted.
Mrs. Jameson didn't seem to understand her shock. "Well, of course!" she said. "Having someone of your accomplishments here would be a wonderful addition to the university."
Miley stared. "So I could get in no problem."
"Well," Mrs. Jameson amended hastily, "assuming that you had Miley's grades and SAT scores."
Oh good god, this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her since she'd become Hannah. Hands down. "Wait, wait, wait, wait," Miley said, standing back up but keeping a hand on the arm of the chair for support. "I am very tired here, so let me just get this clear. This may sound crazy -- lemme just get this right." She took a breath. "If Miley and I were somehow -- I don't know, smushed into the same person -- we could get in?"
Mrs. Jameson laughed, probably at how weird it sounded. "Well, when you put it like that, I guess you would!" she admitted. "Unfortunately, that's not the case, although..." she squinted. "Oddly enough, you do have the same... eye twitch."
Miley smacked one hand up to cover her eye. "That's not the only thing we have in common," she said, reaching one hand up for the top of her head. "In fact, it so happens that Miley and I are... the same..."
-- hand on the top of her wig now; all it would take would be one tug and it'd be off, and she could have Standford and Lilly for four whole years --
"...sign of zodiac," she said finally, dropping her hand back to her side. "Sagittarius, which means we're the -- the fire sign. Overexcitable eyelids." She took a breath, her shoulders slumping miserably. "I gotta go."
[[nfb/nfi, once again from hannah montana 4x09, "i'll always remember you." THIS POOR GIRL, I SWEAR TO GOD.]]
She sauntered into the admissions office, phone to her ear as she prepared to fake a conversation with her "assistant," Miley Stewart.
''Yes, Miley, the directions you gave me were perfect as usual," she chirped, making sure she was in sight and earshot of the admissions officer before continuing. "Now, if only I could find that competent and very attractive admissions woman that you described, I could -- oh, wait! There she is! Kiss, kiss! 'Bye!"
She hung up her zPhone, flashing a huge smile at the admissions officer. "Miley Stewart," she said, pointing to the phone. "Best assistant any international pop sensation has ever had." Even if she hadn't been lying off her ass about the assistant thing, that definitely wouldn't be true. Holding out her hand, she said, "You must be -- "
"Mrs. Jameson," the admissions woman said. "Oh my gosh, it really is you!" Heh. Starstruckness. Miley could deal with starstruckness. "I thought she was just one of those desperate types that would do or say anything to get in. I mean, she did this --" she gestured -- "'Standford, whooo' thing that was, well -- borderline creepy."
...well, then.
"I'll pass it along," Miley said dryly. "The girl loves constructive criticism, plays well with others, and is an avid flosser." She pointed at her mouth. "Healthy gums," she said, then pointed in the direction of her head -- "healthy mind."
Mrs. Jameson looked riveted, of course.
"Now, if you could just give me that orientation package, I'll, uh, take it with me. Help save you the postage." See that huge smile as she was sticking her hand out, Mrs. Jameson? See it? How could she possibly have an ulterior motive here?
And yet she continued to look unconvinced. Odd, that. "Ah," she said tentatively, "Miss Montana--"
"No worries!" Miley interrupted cheerily. "Just my way of contributing to higher education!" She leaned in a little and added, "But I will need a receipt for tax purposes."
Charming, Miley.
"It -- it isn't that," Mrs. Jameson said after a minute. "It's just that -- apparently Miley misunderstood." That got Miley to back off quick. Her face fell and she pulled her hand back, looking unsure. "I didn't say that this would get her in, I said that we'd reconsider her application. But even if we do accept her, she goes to the end of the waiting list."
Oh god, Miley's eye twitch from last week was back in full force. "The, the," she started to stammer, "th-th-th-th-the waiting list?"
Yeah, she needed to lie down. Failing that, though, she was at least going to take a seat in one of those uncomfortable-looking chairs. Because really now.
"Look, Miley's a wonderful applicant," Mrs. Jameson offered, trying to be helpful, "it's just that the information came a little late! And the board only makes exceptions in very rare circumstances -- like, for example, if you were applying."
Old red-haired lady who had quickly become the bane of Miley's existence say what?
"Me?" Miley repeated, flabbergasted.
Mrs. Jameson didn't seem to understand her shock. "Well, of course!" she said. "Having someone of your accomplishments here would be a wonderful addition to the university."
Miley stared. "So I could get in no problem."
"Well," Mrs. Jameson amended hastily, "assuming that you had Miley's grades and SAT scores."
Oh good god, this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her since she'd become Hannah. Hands down. "Wait, wait, wait, wait," Miley said, standing back up but keeping a hand on the arm of the chair for support. "I am very tired here, so let me just get this clear. This may sound crazy -- lemme just get this right." She took a breath. "If Miley and I were somehow -- I don't know, smushed into the same person -- we could get in?"
Mrs. Jameson laughed, probably at how weird it sounded. "Well, when you put it like that, I guess you would!" she admitted. "Unfortunately, that's not the case, although..." she squinted. "Oddly enough, you do have the same... eye twitch."
Miley smacked one hand up to cover her eye. "That's not the only thing we have in common," she said, reaching one hand up for the top of her head. "In fact, it so happens that Miley and I are... the same..."
-- hand on the top of her wig now; all it would take would be one tug and it'd be off, and she could have Standford and Lilly for four whole years --
"...sign of zodiac," she said finally, dropping her hand back to her side. "Sagittarius, which means we're the -- the fire sign. Overexcitable eyelids." She took a breath, her shoulders slumping miserably. "I gotta go."
[[nfb/nfi, once again from hannah montana 4x09, "i'll always remember you." THIS POOR GIRL, I SWEAR TO GOD.]]