Disclaimer: I do not own HSM, HSM: On Stage, any of the HSM characters, and I stole/adapted the title from "A Cinderella Story."
A/N: Mostly autobiographical account of my experience with HSM. Some liberties have been taken. Some names have been changed. Slight timeline changes have been made. The whole idea of this story came actually from something that our "hero" said to our "heroine"- it'll be explored in chapter 3. And I would like to say up front that I LOVE the stage show, but I HATE the movie. With a burning passion. And that is how it will be. And I will point and laugh at whoever reviews saying "OMG HSM RULZ N U SUX!!!". Oh, and the chapter titles are the song titles from the stage version, in order, with subtitles being quotes from the stage version.
Rated T for language and sexual references in later chapters. Might be boosted to M depending on my mood.
Chapter One
Wildcat Cheer: It Will be a Happy Wildcat New Year
Ah, the first day of school. Stupid people abounding. Luckily for me, I had classes with people I knew. Er, mostly.
See, this was the first day of my sophomore year at South High, which I hoped and prayed would be better than my freshman year. What made freshman year suck was because of North High. Mostly.
Our town once had just one high school, but the year before we had split into two because we had pretty much exceeded capacity in our school. North was the old high school. South was the new one. So we had bigger, better facilities than North. For example, we have about 1000 seats in our auditorium, and North has half that. Which of course indicates that North is green with envy. In a major way.
So they hate our guts and vandalize our stuff. Granted, my older sister was going to bleach North's football field, but that's beside the point. North kids made us feel like crap.
Anyways, my schedule had been organized with the one and only goal of avoiding that dreaded yet sometimes completely necessary function that is Early Bird, or 0 hour. You see, some people can't get their required classes in if they want to have such electives as band or choir. Or really any elective at all. And so, the school came up with this insane idea to have an extra period before school wherein you have to wake up an HOUR EARLIER in order to have MORE school. Yee-haw, right?
So this year I had to drop choir in order to fit in required classes so that I wouldn't have Early Bird. And pretty much the entire choir program was pissed at me. My voice teacher, my choir teacher, and even the teacher from the elite choir (who heard me sing and suggested I try out for his choir before realizing that, hey, I'm a little freshie who is not allowed) all begged me to stay in. But, no, I could not. Because I want my sleep. That and I would have to be in the all-girls choir which totally sucked freshman year because I wasn't the stereotypical "OMG, so-and-so is such a hottie! I hope he like, totally, likes my new platinum-blond hair that I got dyed just for HIM!" girl.
My friend Carly, and probably Anna, too, were the only reason that I stayed in choir for all of freshman year. They were both pretty well grounded, like me, and didn't have classic teenager syndrome. Now that they had both gotten into the elite choir (and Anna got into the extra-curricular Mega-Elite choir, as well) I had no reason to stay.
So my classes were Spanish II, AP Calculus, AP English Language, Earth Science, AP Human Geo, and Leisure Activities. Leisure Activities was by far what I was most looking forward to. Gym credit for just playing stuff like bocce ball, ping-pong, and darts? Awesome.
But the first thing that caught my eye when I walked into South High was the sign on the door:
"Auditions for our Fall Musical, "High School Musical", will take place on September 20 for freshman and sophomores and September 21 for juniors and seniors. Further information given after school on Friday."
I noticed that there were three different reactions to this poster. There was the group that squealed for the sole reason that it was "OMG High School Musical!!!" There was the group that groaned for the sole reason that it was High School Musical. Finally, there was the group that just ignored it for the sole reason that it was "a musical."
I fell into the second group. It was an okay movie. For a while. Then I developed a penchant for musical theater and realized that, as musicals went, it sucked. Honestly, the plot was a watered-down mix of Romeo and Juliet and Grease. Aside from the leads, the songs don't even sound like they're being sung by teenagers. I mean, there is a difference between professional teen singers and professional adult singers. If you aren't watching, and just listen to the music, they aren't energetic at all. And Zac Efron is, in my humble opinion, not that hot. Not that great of an actor, either. I haven't seen HSM 2 or Hairspray, so I can't really comment on his singing. Believe what you will, but that's my opinion on the matter.
Anyways.
Sixth hour. Leisure Activities. Oddest teacher ever. Reminded me of Coach Tugnut from "Even Stevens". Ah, for the days that Disney didn't suck.
I leaned against the bleachers. I didn't know anyone in this class, so I figured I'd be the crazy loner chick like I was in second semester biology last year. I longed for the good old days where sulking in the back of the classroom didn't send you automatically to the school psychologist.
I suppose I'm making myself sound like a crazy emo kid. Not that there's anything wrong with being emo, but I don't want to be perceived as such when I'm not. I'm more like the weird, intelligent girl with a chip on her shoulder.
Despite the fact that it was the first day of class, the teacher decided we would start bocce ball there and then. So he moved us outside. Without warning us. So I didn't have a coat because of the damn school rule against jackets in class. Unless they're letter jackets, because no teacher is going to yell at you for exhibiting school spirit. Supposedly the rule has something to do with hiding guns in your coat. But seriously, you could hide a gun in a sweatshirt. In a backpack, or purse. Those are allowed in class…
But I digress.
We headed outside. Mind you, I live in the Midwest US. In September, it is COLD. I don't care what you crazy global warming freaks say, but this warming crap is not affecting my area.
So I was freezing my ass off, and the sarcastic bitch in my brain is thinking something to the effect of "Oh, won't some knight in shining armor offer me their jacket so that I won't freeze to death?"
And just then…
Nothing happened.
So here I am, shivering away as my teacher invites us to sit in the wet grass and yells at whoever doesn't comply. I ended up sitting down next to a guy who wore the infamous "protect your nuts" shirt.
And as I tuned out the teacher's explanation of bocce ball, seeing as how I'd played the game since probably birth, I found myself sneaking glances at the "protect your nuts" guy. He had shaggy, red-and-blonde hair which looked much more attractive than it sounds, with blue-green eyes and glasses. He laughed through most of the teacher's speech.
Though I'd never been one to crush on someone based on looks, I was determined to somehow weasel my way in with this guy.
It had happened. I was finally becoming the stereotypical teenager.
"So what you're gonna do is form a couple, otherwise known as a duo or pair," the teacher explained in his odd, idiosyncratic way of speaking. "Then you will join with another couple, duo, or pair to create what is called a group of four. You will then pick up the bocce set and play according to the aforementioned rules. Any questions?"
Yeah. Who the hell is going to accept me into their group?
Everyone stood at the same time, sectioning off into their groups of friends.
I watched as everyone joined a group, even the other semi-brooding one in the class, who coincidentally found his place with Mr. Protect Your Nuts.
And of course, this was the only group of three.
We-ell, apparently the irony gods don't hate my guts as much as I thought.
So Mr. Protect Your Nuts calls over, "Hey, are you in a group?"
"Um, no," I said timidly, as opposed to my usual apathetic tone.
"Well, we need a fourth, so get over here."
Oh, yes. It will be a good new year.
