Her Grade Wasn't Horrible
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French just might have been Chad's worst subject.
It really wasn't his fault – he'd asked for Spanish during freshman year, but then he'd forgotten to give his counselor the paperwork, so they'd placed him in an intermediate French class. Chad wasn't exactly a failure, but his lack of appreciation and tolerance for the complex language and his apathy for completing his homework barely earned him a passing grade. Regardless, he didn't feel like starting over and taking Spanish when sophomore year came, so he stuck with French.
To his immense displeasure, the subject had proved to be an even bigger pain in the ass come junior year – the teacher hated him with a blazing passion, and none of his friends were able to share his pain, as they were all either in a different period (Zeke and Jason) or happily enjoying their stupid selves in Spanish (Troy… who was, again, blessed enough to be put in the same period as Gabriella). The only person in his period that he knew – or had ever known – very well was Taylor, who hated him anyway. Back in sophomore year during their short-termed, feeble, and wholly impulsive relationship, she had gotten him through the grueling class. (He was quite proud to say that he'd actually earned a solid B in second semester.) However, that page in his book was turned (well, he acknowledged bitterly, more like ripped out), and he was now on his own.
This was really, really not a good thing.
Chad swallowed his pride and admitted it to himself, mulling over the words.
He had a D in French.
If that were the only thing, it wouldn't have been all that bad – he'd gotten bad grades since grades had been handed out.
Stay tuned; there was more.
If he didn't raise it up by the end of the month, he would get kicked off the team.
Maybe he should just return to feigning obliviousness, because, really, internally torturing himself wasn't doing any good.
All hope was not lost, actually. Monsieur Dubois had just assigned another tediously dreadful project and had (rudely) informed him that he could bring up his grade to at least a C if he managed to scrape an A on the project.
All right, all hope was lost.
The bright side was that the project could be done with a partner; however, on the pessimistic side, Chad didn't quite have the best selection. He knew that Taylor could easily get him an A, and for a brief minute he contemplated flirting with her so that she would agree to work with him. The scheme vanished almost as quickly as it had materialized; Taylor was no desperate cheerleader.
In a rare production of despondency, Chad scanned the room, looking for a possible partner.
Most of the people in his class he wasn't familiar with at all, and he really didn't have any desire to be Elmo from Sesame Street or whatever and make new friends.
His eyes involuntarily fell on Sharpay.
Sharpay was extremely intelligent, though he suspected that she always played it down as much as possible so that she wouldn't have to work as hard or have a lot expected of her. At any rate, her grade wasn't horrible – especially not when compared to Chad's. She spoke French like she was French, her accent impeccable and her speech and written work flawless.
He couldn't suppress a groan, but he really didn't have much of a choice. His position on the team solely depended on his ability to swallow his pride, grit his teeth, and charm the frosty drama queen.
The teacher gave the class directions to find a partner and begin planning, and Chad stood up with an air of cocky determination.
Sharpay hadn't moved an inch. She was sitting at her desk, writing something down in a notebook.
She didn't even bother to glance up as he approached.
"Hey, Sharpay."
Sharpay sighed, but looked up, meeting his eyes with a bored stare, the iciness present like always. "Did you need something, Danforth?"
"D'you want to work together?" Chad asked.
Her hazel eyes narrowed. "For what?"
"The project, obviously."
"I would have imagined that you'd want to work with McKessie," she taunted mockingly, and Chad was reminded that he would never have wanted to work with her if his grade hadn't needed so much help.
"Very funny. Do you want to work with me or not?"
She laughed, "Don't forget who's asking who."
Chad wasn't in the mood. "If you don't want to, just tell me and shut up, Sharpay," he muttered irritably.
A look of slight surprise formed on her attractive face. "I don't have an aversion to working with you," she said, and he suspected that she meant it, because she probably didn't care about him enough to lie.
"So you want to be partners?"
Sharpay shrugged, but it was agreement enough for Chad.
He sat down in the now empty desk next to hers.
"I'm shocked that you accepted. I thought you hated me." He flashed a disarming grin anyway, because he got what he wanted and that was really all he cared about, though he had honestly expected rejection.
"Don't be stupid, Danforth."
"You tell me that a lot."
"You've noticed."
"You think? It's kind of hard not to when you're insulting me every spare second you have."
She snickered. "Try not to flatter yourself. I still think you're full of shit."
Chad snorted. "How so?"
"Please. You prance around, expecting to cheerleaders to flock at your heels, which they unfortunately do. You worship Troy."
"You did that, at one point. And I don't prance. Or worship Troy. I can't lie about the cheerleaders, though—"
She cut him off briskly, "No. There's a titanic difference. I was having fun, I never worshipped him."
"Right. Trying to save face now, are we, Sharpay?"
"I don't kiss the ground Troy Bolton walks on."
"Well, neither do I."
"You could have fooled me."
"Please, Sharpay, you're almost as obsessed with him as the cheerleaders. Or maybe more so."
She leaned in a little. "I consider Troy below my standards."
He mimicked her motion. "Really."
"Of course."
"So… who does meet your expectations?"
In the future, Chad would always remember exactly how Sharpay looked at this very moment. Her chin was raised, head held high, and she looked amazingly confident and beautiful, like she expected the world to bow before her.
Sharpay smirked with assurance and moved closer still, until there was no more space between them.
"You," she said simply, before pressing her lips to his.
--
Author's Notes.
What a strange title. I swear, most of my titles are just random sentences plucked out directly from the story. I've had this idea for a few days, though I've been to lazy (damn testing) to actually write it until today. If there are any errors, I swear I'll fix them soon.
I'm also working on a (hopefully) longer Chadpay fic, which will be beta-read and everything.
Chadpay is so amazing, don't you think? If you're digging it, I heavily recommend anything by the super unique StarVitamin (who writes only Chadpay, bless her brilliantly gifted soul) or the witty, creative TehFuzzyPenguin. They are incredible, and you won't regret reading their work. It's pretty inspiring, and a million times better than mine.
Constructive criticism is welcome. Do me a favor and review. I'll love you for eternity.