Read Miles to Go for Free Online Page A

license will say Miley.

Hannah Who?
     
    W hile we were taping the pilot, Disney let me know that there was just, ah, one more tiny little thing they wanted me to do. A concert. (Yikes!) That’s right—they wanted me to perform a concert as Hannah Montana in front of a crowd of people who had no idea who I was, before the show had even started. (Double yikes!) When the big night came, I was a nervous wreck. Sure, I’d been backstage, even onstage with my dad at plenty of concerts. But now there were new songs, new choreography, new dancers, props, and wardrobe changes. And no Dad. The focus was all on me.
    The crowd at Glendale Centre Theatre—not far from the Disney studios—didn’t know who or what they were going to see. They just knew they were watching an unknown girl named Hannah Montana, and she had something to do with a new Disney show. And it was free. I’m sure some of those people wish they could travel in time and scalp those free tickets for big bucks. (Not that I approve of that behavior!)
    I couldn’t believe anyone showed up at the concert. Who wanted to see an unknown singer? When I started, I was scared that I would tank—and I felt stupid for pretending to be such a hotshot star when nobody knew who I was. It was so weird. Between songs, I’d whisper into the mike, “I’ll be right back,” and scurry off the stage like a little mouse to ask my mom and the producers if I was doing okay.
    Then, around when I was singing “Pumping Up the Party Now,” I noticed that people were into it. They seemed excited to see the show. It gave me a second to pause (in my head—I kept singing, of course) and realize what was happening to me. It didn’t matter how odd and contrived this performance was. I thought to myself, I’m happy to be here. I really am. That was it. After that moment I started to get into my groove. I found out later that Gary Marsh, the president of Disney Channel, turned to my mom and said, “Didn’t take her long to settle in.”
    By the end of the concert the audience was standing up, cheering, shouting “Han-nah! Han-nah! Han-nah!” I ran across the front of the stage. I high-fived them. I improvised. I just had fun. It was really happening. This was my moment.
    Some of that concert is still used in the show, sort of as if it’s Hannah’s music video. They use the footage from “Pumping Up the Party Now,” with me in my pajamas (Hannah has grown up so much—she'd never perform in sleepover pj's now!) , in the opening sequence and to promote the show sometimes.
    And then the pilot was done, and they slapped braces on my teeth.

Losing Pappy
     
    B efore I get back to the braces, I want to talk about Pappy. While we were taping the pilot, Dad was flying back and forth between the set of Hannah Montana and my pappy’s bedside. Pappy was my grandfather on my dad’s side. He was sick, really sick with lung cancer, but all the amazing memories I have of him were in my head as I worked. I knew he wanted me to follow this dream.
    Pappy had a log cabin in Cave Run, Kentucky. It is the most beautiful place on earth. In the morning, he’d make bacon for us and tell some crazy story about what the dogs were up to or what the neighbors said.
    Each of us kids had a room upstairs in his cabin. Whenever we came to visit, I’d head up to my room the first night and he’d have positioned an old bearskin rug flat on the floor with its head popping up. It scared me to death every time. But that was Pappy for you. I loved his teasing. I even loved the way Pappy smelled. He wore the same deodorant for years—it’s a generic country brand—and now I keep it around because it reminds me of him.
    We spent plenty of time in that cabin, just goofing around. I would change the outgoing message on the answering machine to say “Hey, thanks for calling my pappy,” and then I would blow a whistle that sounded like a train— whoo whoo whoo —and say, “I love him and hope you love him