There's a reason for it.
There's a reason why you spend so much time looking in mirrors. There's a reason you spend so much time mooning over Troy Bolton, why you can't stand to lose the lead to Gabriella, way you have no real friends other than your brothers and after the way he treated you last summer, he hardly counts.
You can't express how much Ryan hurt you last summer. You thought he understood. You thought he knew you, but he didn't know you any better than anyone else. He sold you out in front of everyone, and for what? Popularity?
Ouch.
And then, then he takes the one thing you've only ever wanted.
Fucking Julliard scouts.
They think it's all sweet victory- Sharpay the Ice Queen finally getting hers. But this is your life, not some dumb high school prank. They don't understand that you've given everything for this. Your weekends, your grades, your family, your life. You'd done everything you knew how to do to get what you want. What else is there?
That question haunts you. What else could you have done? What did you forget?
You let Mrs. Darbus announce whatever she wanted at the conclusion of the musical, but the truth is your life has essentially ended. Your life peaked in high school. You can't go to community college and make it how you dreamed you would. You feel sick to your stomach thinking about it.
What has your life become?
Ryan came home for Christmas and tried to talk to you about doing something. Auditioning somewhere. Applying for school. Something. Anything.
You laugh and say you are doing something. You smile and say you've been looking at schools. They're not Julliard, but they're something. He hugs you and seems satisfied. You watch movies together and eat your favorite foods. The minutes he leaves you throw it all up.
So maybe it's that you've lost control of your life. You certainly don't have anyone to impress anymore.
You run a lot now and eat less. You hardly sleep and you cut your hair to your shoulders and let it twist and wave however it wants. You look good, almost human again. You start smiling and talking to people from high school who are still hanging around.
You party and you dance and when you get home, you shove your finger down your throat and tell yourself you'll be fine. You feel so empty. It's good. A good empty. Like you don't need to care anymore.
Except you do care. You care so fucking much you can't breath sometimes. Your whole body aches and you just want it all to stop. You run one more mile so you can pretend the burn is from pushing yourself. You eat half a celery stick and sit down on your kitchen floor and cry. You want to scream, you want to break something or hurt someone. Someone other than yourself. The next day you start smoking.
You take a long drag and hop back into your car. You drive recklessly because it doesn't really matter anymore. You look in the mirror and say, "Fuck life," everyday because, really, what's the point? You hope you die, but you're too much of a coward to do it.
People have started to talk about you with pity. You're so thin and people start to whisper, "heroin" and 'cocaine" disbelievingly. You laugh when the word reaches you. Like it fucking matters anyway. But it makes you wonder…
The next party you take a hit and decide to never do it again. You might want to die, but you don't want to do it like an oversexed, pathetic socialite. You're too high-class for that.
Ryan starts calling you everyday to see how you are. You start screening your calls.
Two weeks before Ryan's summer break starts, you see the car coming towards you. He's in the wrong lane. He's all over the road. You glance at the shoulder but you keep your car pointed straight ahead. Metal crushes metal and the last thing you think before everything goes black is, "This isn't how it was supposed to end."
The funeral garners a bigger crowd than any of you shows ever did. Ryan slips a letter into your casket and kisses your hard cheek. "Brava, Shar," he whispers.
The curtain falls and the show ends, but there won't be an encore tonight.