Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters in this story related to High School Musical belong to its original creators. Any other names, places or events that may have similarity to existing/actual names, places or events is purely coincidental and the use of such is for the purpose of this story alone. Lastly, the author does not, in any way, profit from this story.

Troy Bolton never imagined he'll be in such a risky situation when he woke up in his lavish hotel room that morning. He only planned to escape his father's constricting, suffocating clutches by outsmarting his assigned bodyguards.

Admittedly, it was a hasty plan borne out of need to get away. But in the small convenience store where he executed his plan everything seemed to be going smoothly. It was easy to convince his bodyguards Raul and Joe, whom he had wisely befriended beforehand, to let him go in the store unguarded to buy his excuse of a pack of cigarettes and a box of condoms. It was also easy to charm the bored looking, indecently dressed female cashier with a few lewd suggestions cleverly disguised as compliments and a wad of cash to let him hide in the storage room for half an hour and to lie to mislead his bodyguards. And it was especially easy to exit from the back door of the store, cross a parking lot and jump over a low fence for his escape.

But his initially ingenious plan began to lose its momentum when an hour of walking the unfamiliar streets, the view became less appealing, less clean, less welcoming and more dreary. He couldn't be more sure he got himself lost in the slums of Albuquerque and that idea was not only frustrating, it was a little frightening as well because he had the uneasy feeling he's becoming the focus of attention by the poorly dressed and scary looking residents of the slums.

Out of disgust for the appalling area he was in and the plight he was forced to endure because of his tyrannical father, Troy continued his walk hoping to find a friendlier face among the ones he sees and ask for directions. His clothes itself did nothing to make him inconspicuous and at the moment what he wanted is to blend with the locals. This is his father's fault, he silently cursed, zipping his expensive designer jacket closed to keep himself warm from the uneasy chill and digging his cold hands deep into his pants pocket.

Troy had no love for the man who sired him. The man was made of stone. He was incapable of feeling anything besides displeasure to anyone who dared or was unfortunate enough to defy his rules. His mother was the perfect example of the recipient of his displeasure.

Troy witnessed how his mother had to take a back step because Jack Bolton's work always takes precedence over anything, including family. He saw how his mother put up with being treated like a common employee paid to do his bidding. He saw how Jack Bolton paid scant attention to his wife, barely talking to her or looking at her as if he couldn't stand the sight of her but was forced to tolerate her presence because he couldn't think of a better way to be rid of her. He heard his mother's heart wrenching cries when she thought Troy had already dozed off beside her. He saw in painful clarity how the once beautiful face of Therese Bolton became haggard overtime, the effervescent glow that usually lit her gorgeous blue eyes and enlivened her smile whenever she looked at Troy snuffed out like a dying flame.

All because of Jack Bolton.

As a child, after watching Bram Stoker's Dracula movie, Troy had likened Jack to a vampire because he deduced his father is good at sucking anyone—family, friends, business associates, competitors, enemies—dry. And up till now, that comparison hasn't changed.

Remembering the confrontation three days ago in the Bolton mansion in Los Angeles that was the reason why he was placed under the watchful eye of Jack Bolton thus limiting his freedom and luxuries, Troy's face became hard with ire.

"Sit!" Jack demanded in an ominous voice as soon as Troy entered his study and refused to budge from where he stood by the counter next to the liquor cabinet where a few bottles of alcoholic drinks were waiting to be poured.

Troy made a show of looking around the enormous study and even behind Jack while negligently opening a bottle of vodka. "Where is it?" He asked in a mildly curious but bored tone, completely unaffected by the anger shooting from his father.

"What are you looking for?" Jack rapped, momentarily distracted from his anger by Troy's searching gaze.

Raising expressionless blue eyes to his father, he said, "The dog."

"What dog?"

"The dog you're ordering to sit."

Steely grey eyes narrowed at the tall twenty year old who bore a resemblance to him during his own youth. If he weren't so angry, Jack would have allowed himself to be amused by the perfectly unreadable expression on his son's face and the stony seemliness unconsciously emanating from Troy's being—both he's certain was inherited from him—as he stands unmoved by his wrath.

But at the moment he was furious. Furious because yesterday an important teleconference with his business partners for a merger had to be cut short as two LAPD cops came to his office in the middle of the meeting, forced his secretary to interrupt him, demanded his attention and informed him that Troy had been arrested in his apartment along with a group of other rich kids for disturbing the peace in the building and for using drugs. The other tenants in the exclusive residential building, informed the uniformed officers, called the cops to complain about the loud noise coming from Troy's apartment and when the officers responded to the call they found a scandalous party well underway, the attendants already high on their spirits and a pot session was taking place in the living room.

The deadly calm that settled on Jack's face was the only outward reaction that the officers saw. Mistaking it for shock, the officers waited for him to get over it then speak, ask questions and rage like most parents. Only Jack wasn't like most parents. He remained calm, extremely courteous when he finally spoke to thank them, offered them a choice of drinks which they declined and sent them off with a promise that they will not be met with any resistance from him in the course of doing their jobs.

"Do what you must." Was all he said then nodded to his stern looking secretary who materialized out of nowhere to politely show the officers out.

As soon as the doors closed and his secretary Sefora Gibbs returned, Jack issued one instruction to the highly competent Miss Gibbs. "Send Armstrong to the precinct tomorrow at ten." Then he stormed out of his private office to the conference room that adjoined it, relying on Miss Gibbs to understand and not question—which she did—that he was letting Troy spend the night in jail and for the big shot lawyer Evan Armstrong who he keeps on retainer to post bail tomorrow at ten o'clock . . . not before. Not even a minute before the mentioned hour.

Jack's anger, however, had been on a steady stream as soon as the meeting ended. Neither did it ebb the rest of the day and through the hours of waiting for the talk he was going to have with Troy. In fact, seeing Troy implacably calm and uncaring of his ire or the dire consequences of his irresponsible behavior made Jack reconsider his earlier tactic on how to deal with his son.

Jack did not ask about the incident in the apartment, nor did he ask if he used drugs. Asking would only give him a chance to deny or lie to him and he has no desire to hear whatever Troy has to say. He's sick of excuses, of good for nothing reasons. He's had enough of it from Troy's mother and he's determined not to make the same mistake of being made to believe lies. Troy's pompous, arrogant, devil may care attitude and who thinks he's better than anybody in and out of his social class, he got from his mother. And it pains Jack to see stellar opportunities slip from Troy every time because he's more interested in partying, cavorting with women, unnecessary spending of money, engaging himself in senseless pursuits and doing what he damn well pleases because he knows the Bolton money will buy him out of any unpleasant situation, all out of open rebellion he had foolishly waged against him.

He can no longer ignore the purposeful wasting of time and money and he if he has to be considered a monster for what he was about to do then so be it. He doesn't have any other heir to place his reliance on and so he has to make sure Troy will come up to the task when time requires it. He will either bend him to straighten his ways or break him to it.

"You start college next year." Jack said to Troy's back. "In Cambridge."

Troy turned to face him slowly, the bottle of vodka still in his hand. If not for the brief clenching of his jaw or the icy look in his eyes, Jack would have thought his announcement fell on deaf ears. But Troy didn't ask for an explanation. He didn't question his decision to send him to Europe because he knew he relinquished his right to decide on his future when he got himself embroiled with the cops last night and the mere fact that his own father took his sweet time before sending his egotistical lawyer to bail him out of jail, somehow hinted on Troy what the outcome of their talk would be. But it doesn't mean he liked or accepted it.

"While you're waiting to be educated," Jack continued in a cold tone. "you will comport yourself in a way that I approve. That means no more reckless, amoral social activities with any of your so called friends. You will stay here in my house, not in your apartment which as we speak is being cleared out of your things. I forbid the use of your car, your credit card, your phone—nothing! You go out only when I give you permission to do so and only with the two bodyguards the head of security handpicked for you."

Troy chuckled shortly but his eyes bore such cold contempt as it met Jack's gaze, though his tone remained unemotional. "You had me bailed out of jail to imprison me here."

"If you'd rather have the unique kind of accommodations the local precinct offers then by all means go back. I will instruct your bodyguards to bring you there." He went to his desk and began tossing papers in the open briefcase, preparing to go to work, completely impervious to the disdain in Troy's tone. When he snapped the briefcase closed, Jack straightened and said, "Another option I'm willing to give you is to accompany me to work and give yourself the chance to acquaint with the key people the company deals with and people who work for us, what they do and a chance for you to learn how things work in the company. In other words, I'm offering you a choice to be productive."

Troy expressed his opinion by scoffing at his suggestion but other than that he said nothing.

The look Jack gave him was one of disappointment instead of the controlled anger that Troy had expected and what his father was known for but his next words could not be mistaken for empty threats. "I'm being more than reasonable considering your track record of transgressions, your refusal to go to college and your persistence to live your life—at my expense—whichever way you please. If those options or if my offer of a chance to reform your ways doesn't appeal to you in the least bit, then leave everything behind and find yourself a job! Let's see how you fare outside your cozy little world. And don't you dare remind me that you're my only heir . . . Ryan and Sharpay are also my heirs. I just realized last night that because you had yourself arrested, you don't care a cent of keeping a good reputation for your last name so if you are not interested in any of my offers, go ahead continue with your little rebellion and ruin your life! But next time you find yourself in a rut, don't expect me to help you."

The door to the study opened suddenly making them swing their gazes just as Sharpay Evans, Troy's cousin from his father's side of the family, came through, a worried expression on her face. But before she could open her mouth to speak in defense of Troy like she usually does, Jack's irate voice cut through the short pause and turned to Troy again. "Don't expect Ryan or Sharpay to help you either!" His angry gaze flicked toward Sharpay who froze in her tracks. "Am I understood?" Recognizing the warning in her uncle's words, Sharpay wisely nodded at the man who was also her and her twin brother's guardian since their parents died three years ago, then she threw an apologetic glance at Troy.

Satisfied that his niece understood, Jack leveled his gaze back to Troy. "So," He drawled. "Have you decided?"

Troy shot him a look of pure hatred, but he sounded incredibly calm when he said, "I'll think about it."

"Now you want to think!" Jack thundered in a derisive tone. Moving from behind his desk, briefcase in hand, he walked past Sharpay then swung back at Troy before opening the door. "Your behavior thus far suggests making hasty decisions is your ' thing'. You never take time think, otherwise you'd be attending a college of your choice instead of getting bailed out of jail and we wouldn't be here discussing your future, won't we? One more hastiness shouldn't make a damned difference. I want to hear your decision now!"

"Fine." Troy clipped vaguely. He slammed the bottle of vodka down and pushed away from the counter, walked past Sharpay but not before placing a brotherly kiss to her pale cheek and murmuring reassurances, then he stalked past his father then through the door. Troy took small pleasure in walking slowly, pausing in the immense foyer, to make Jack wonder whether he was going up the staircase or to the waiting limo that was taking Jack to the office.

He doesn't know what possessed him to decide to join Jack to work instead of confining himself in the mansion and avoid further encounters with his father. But what he initially thought had been a wrong decision turned out to be a good one too, regardless that he had to endure hours in his father's domineering presence, because he got to experience firsthand what goes on in the family owned corporation.

He took wary interest in the intricate business dealings that were being handled everyday by competent, reliable employees and by his father himself. And after a week of accompanying Jack to work, Troy reluctantly recognized Jack's business acumen. He was also surprised to learn that most of the people who work for his father, especially those directly under him, hold Jack Bolton in such high esteem and their loyalty to his father is remarkable. It was the kind of respect and loyalty people give someone because they deserved it.

Still, the resentment Troy feels for his father was already deeply rooted and it overshadowed any approbation he might have felt. He wouldn't allow himself to be fully be impressed by his father's knowledge of business economics and all things related to it. He rationalized that the people under his father's employ don't know him the way he does. What they see of Jack Bolton is an illusion. He may be a good businessman but he is a terrible person, a lousy husband and an even lousier parent. Underneath all that authority and greatness for which he's admired, they have absolutely no idea what kind of a monster he really is.

So long as Troy kept his opinions to himself and ignored most of the glowing praises of his father from random people, the days spent in Bolton Consolidated Industries was tolerable and yes, as much as he hated to admit, educational as well.

But his mildly improving mood was dampened after two weeks when Jack baldly announced that he was flying to Albuquerque on business and since Troy chose the second option of his punishment, it was imperative he tag along.

In Albuquerque, after two days of being snapped at, made to endure endless hours of boring meetings and being bossed around for coffee runs and every other incongruous thing his father can think of, Troy had enough and demanded for a break from the stifling confines of the meager Albuquerque office to explore the area and see what it had to offer since it was his first time to be there. Jack agreed, surprisingly without argument, on the condition that Troy is accompanied by the bodyguards at all times.

Too bad for Raul and Joe, however, because Troy was certain they will experience the full wrath of his father when he discovers they were lax in their duties of guarding his errant son. At the moment though, he doesn't have time to feel guilty about his bodyguards because the earlier excitement and triumph he felt for escaping them looks like is all for naught.

He's lost. And in a neighborhood that not's exactly ideal for someone dressed like him.

He should've thought his plan through the very end where he at least ends up in less dangerous looking surroundings.

"Hey, got a light?"

Troy turned to the sound of the voice behind him, frowned and rudely dismissed the shabby man who walked too close—much too close to him. "No." He snapped then quickened his steps.

* * * * * *

"Does Peter Pan have curly hair?"

Kelsi Nielsen raised laughing eyes from the music sheets she was going over to take an appraising gaze at her friend Gabriella Montez who was garbed in full Peter Pan costume—green hat with a single red feather stuck on the side, green oversized shirt with paper leaves on its sleeve and a jagged hemline, brown strip of cloth tied around the waist as a belt and a wooden sword hanging from it, dark green leggings and brown low cut elf shaped boots—and looking like a young boy, a very disconcerted young boy from the look on her face.

"Well?" Arched brows lifted at Kelsi across the small music room from the piano where she was seated and Gabriella blew a curly lock of hair that fell over her left eye then repeated, "Does Peter Pan have curly hair? Because my hair is short, curly and unruly . . . this hat can't possibly tuck it in."

"Don't worry about the hair, Gab. It doesn't matter what kind Peter Pan has. You're playing the part because you're exceptionally good—"

"—acting like a boy in tights swinging in the air with a wooden sword." Gabriella finished with cheerfulness, pulling off the silly hat on her head and sat beside Kelsi by the piano.

"Do you want to back out?" Kelsi asked as she casually flipped through the music sheets in front of her but inwardly she hoped Gabriella wouldn't consider stepping out of the play. She may be a girl playing a boy but of all the students they auditioned, Gabriella was the only one to convincingly pull off the role and her singing voice is amazing.

Gabriella let her fingers glide over the piano keys, playing a tune she spontaneously made up, her head bobbing to the sprightly sound then laughing at her own silliness. "No." She said, smiling brightly. "I want to play the part. I actually enjoy being strapped with a harness and get to swing all over the stage . . . don't tell Darbus though. She's convinced I share her burning passion for theatrics."

Laughing, Kelsi raised a hand in promise not to betray her secret to the unflappable drama teacher Miss Darbus. "I won't." She assured. "Just promise me you won't change your mind about this, Gab. I don't want that Brian Moon to play Peter Pan—he's an annoying ass and he thinks he's better than everybody. He keeps criticizing and changing my arrangement to suit his mediocre voice!"

"Don't worry, Kels. Unless, something life altering happens to me in the next twenty four hours, I will be Peter Pan." Gabriella said with certainty and started to stand but a sudden thought occurred to her that made her sit back down. "Wait . . . do I really have to kiss Lila?" She sounded all at once alarmed, appalled and worried of the possibility of kissing the other female student who plays Wendy. "She's pretty but even if I look like a boy, girls don't really appeal to me in that way, and that bloke head boyfriend of hers will kill me when he sees it and not only that—the entire population of this school will go nuts over it."

"It's only a minute long kiss—"

"Kelsi!"

Kelsi laughed at Gabriella's horrified expression but hurried to assure her. "I'm kidding! The kissing can be faked. The lights can do the trick or we'll ask Miss Darbus to suggest something else since she's the one who altered it."

Accepting that explanation with a brief nod, Gabriella shifted to another curious question. "Why did you choose Peter Pan over Romeo and Juliet? A love story is much easier to do than swashbuckling, flying heroes and pirates. Besides, it's so much more glamorous—" She looked down at her drab green costume and held up the green hat with a funny expression on her face. "than this."

Kelsi shrugged her thin shoulders, pushed her glasses up her small nose and said, "I like a challenge."

Brown almond shaped eyes gave Kelsi an unconvinced gaze and at the same time pressing her to say the real reason why a romantic girl like her would choose Peter Pan over a love tragedy Shakespearean play.

Sighing after a moment of hesitation, Kelsi admitted ruefully. "If I chose Romeo and Juliet, I'd have wanted you to play the lead. You would've been perfect for the role."

"Of Romeo?"

"No! Of Juliet . . . but I didn't think I could convince you to audition for the part."

Unexpectedly, Gabriella laughed at that. "That's true." She agreed. "You couldn't even bribe me to play Juliet. But how can you think I'd be perfect for Juliet! She's supposed to be gorgeous. I'm nowhere near that. Everyone is aware that I am a girl trapped in a boy's body. Besides, can you imagine how Chad and Jason will be laughing their heads off if they see me in a gown?" She shook her head still laughing despite the fact that her words ridiculed her own person. "Not only that—you'll have a hard time finding someone to play Romeo when they see a plain looking Juliet. The chemistry won't work either."

"That's not true, Gabs, and you know it. Besides who cares what Chad and Jason think. Those two won't know art and beauty even if it smacks them right in the face." Kelsi retorted, her displeasure of Gabriella's brothers evident in her tone and mildly irritated that Gabriella has resigned herself into thinking she doesn't hold any promise of feminine beauty—dressing herself in oversized, unflattering set of clothes that hides the shape of her slim body and make her look like a boy—when Kelsi, their friends and most of the teachers in East High have a glowing opinion of Gabriella and are all under the consensus that she's simply a late bloomer compared to other eighteen year old girls their age.

Her friend is actually quite popular in school. But her popularity is for much more meaningful reasons than beauty or money—for Gabriella is hardly from a rich family and though she is by no means ugly, she's not an acclaimed beauty either. Her popularity owes itself to the fact that Gabriella is not only academically gifted and excels in almost anything she puts her mind to but she also has an amazing ability to blend in with any crowd.

She is "in" on the nerds because she's inherently intelligent and she can be geeky without actually being one when a situation calls for it. Her tomboyish ways, interest in sports and physical agility makes her "cool" to the jocks—although this in part is also because of Chad and Jason. Nevertheless, her chumminess with the jocks automatically makes her a person of importance to the beauteous cheerleaders and to the other beauties of East High because—incidental or not and ridiculous it may seem—Gabriella's opinion about a girl happens to hold great weight to the lot of jocks who wouldn't date any girl without her stamp of approval. And to the rest of the school's population, Gabriella Montez is a breath of fresh air, a friendly face, a helpful schoolmate, a kind person with a generous spirit that glows from inside out making her pretty in their eyes.

The problem, as Kelsi sees it, is that Gabriella lives in a small apartment with her aunt, Lucille Smarth—a social worker and the person who her father entrusted her to when she was ten while Mr. Montez served time in prison—along with Chad and Jason, Lucille's adopted sons, who love Gabriella dearly but are the most obnoxious kind of brothers there is and seems to have fostered this stupid notion in Gabriella that she's better off being 'one of the guys'.

"They're guys with purely guy interests." Gabriella explained but she understood Kelsi's dislike for her brothers. Chad and Jason are the typical annoying brothers who teased mercilessly, insisted on their superiority and dislikes any display of girly behavior in their presence—that's why they feel it necessary to let Gabriella learn their ways, appreciate their love for sports and be able to play it with them and hold her own.

And they weren't exactly subtle two years ago when they baldly told Kelsi musicals are for sissies or something along that line which the temperamental artist in her friend detested hearing from two people who don't have a stitch of knowledge about theater arts or musicals.

"And they treat you like you're the same gender as them. Honestly, Gab, do you remember the last time you wore a skirt? Do you even have a skirt in your closet? Those two ruffians make you act like a tomboy. You didn't even let your hair grow long anymore. They wouldn't even let you date!"

Gabriella smiled and answered without rancor. "That's because no one asks me out." Feelings between her brothers and her closest friend run along a mutual hate road and have been on same road for years now. In fact, Kelsi bickers more with Chad and Jason than Gabriella does, that seeing them at each other's throat became a normal occurrence already. She learned long ago that it was wiser not to get caught in the middle and just let things pan out on its own course when their trivial disputes arise.

And to spare herself from Kelsi's endless complaints about her brothers, Gabriella arose and looked to the watch hanging on the wall across from them. "I better head home." She said beginning to excuse herself. "Jason invited a girl over and Aunt Lucille doesn't want them alone in the apartment. She told me to hurry home as soon as I can and I'm already late. I don't want to barge in on Jason and his date in a—compromising position. I'll be scarred for life."

"He has a date?" Kelsi asked and if Gabriella wasn't occupied with searching for her backpack, she'd have noted the odd tone of the question and the sudden frown that darkened Kelsi's features.

"Yep. I think he's into this girl too. Keeps talking about her to Chad . . . name's Erin, I think." Gabriella absently informed, as she walked around the small room to find her pack. She looked over her shoulder to Kelsi and asked. "Have you seen my bag?"

It took awhile for Kelsi to answer and even then she sounded uncomfortable which confused Gabriella a bit. "Kels? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah!—didn't you leave it in the locker room? You changed into that costume there, played basketball with Wesley and went on stage to practice your lines with Miss Darbus. You told me that earlier when I asked."

Her face scrunched up, smacked a palm to her forehead and raced out of the music room bidding a hasty goodbye and grumbling about the gym being locked at this hour but still hoping to press her luck and get her things.

Thirty minutes later and the sky already dim, having failed to get her pack and change into her normal clothes, Gabriella was walking home in her Peter Pan costume, the wooden sword lightly hitting the side of her left thigh as she took each step, feeling increasingly ridiculous with each passing minute as she saw more and more eyes looking funnily at her and she even heard one boldly call out, "What? No fairy dust to make you fly?" To which, she was prompted to shout back out of irritation, "Happy thoughts make you fly, doofus!"

She was thankful when she rounded the corner two blocks away from her aunt's apartment and saw no one on the streets. Untying the belt with the sword from around her waist because her thigh was now stinging a bit from the wood slapping against it, she slowed her walk to a stop under a street lamp for better lighting. The belt was tied in an impossible knot by Martha who was in charge of costumes.

Grumbling, Gabriella bent her head further down as she went about to untangle the knot. So concentrated was she on untying the brown strip of cloth that when a sudden shuffling echoed from the dark alley close to where she stood, Gabriella nearly jumped out of her costume just as the belt came undone and loosened the green shirt she wore.

The strange shuffling sound was heard again and again just when she decided not pay it any mind. Curiosity coupled with a slight sense of warning pushed her feet to cautiously move toward the unlit alley. She pressed her back against the wall as she neared and she could hear some garbled words and more shuffling, like people struggling against another. Inching along the wall perpendicular to the alley as stealthily as she could, Gabriella ignored the warning bells of danger clamoring in her head.

She took a careful peek at the edge of the wall into the dark alley, intending only to satisfy her curiosity and leave, but what she saw made her gasp in shock and her heart rate triple— so close to where she hid herself, two dark figures where marauding a lone man, one was restraining him from behind while the other threw punches at him then he stopped long enough to pull a gleaming knife from inside his jacket with every intention of using it on the helpless stranger.

In her stunned, horrified state, she realized she's about to witness a mugging become a murder. Gabriella's fingers slackened unconsciously and the wooden sword she held in one hand fell with a resounding thud on the ground diverting the attention of the two muggers to her. Frightened but alert, Gabriella knew she'd been exposed and one of them was making a leap for her. Vaguely hearing a warning shout from the victim of the two muggers, Gabriella screamed, ducked quickly, grabbed her wooden sword and blindly thrust it forward.

She heard a groan and when she opened one eye, she saw her would be attacker on the ground in front of her clutching at his midsection. The wooden sword did not pierce his flesh but it definitely did damage to cause him enough pain and taking advantage of the surprising luck, Gabriella straightened and repeatedly hit the man with the sword until she knocked him unconscious.

Heaving from exertion and adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream, she turned to the two other men who were in a furious wrestle for the knife. Without a thought for her safety, she sprung from her spot to aid the stranger, raised the sword but as she neared the two bodies the long belt still tied to the sword caught her booted foot and she went flying toward the parrying pair.

From the corner of his eye, Troy saw the boy with what appears to be a sword in his hand catapult toward them. Using the distraction and confusion brought on by the boy, Troy sidestepped quickly and let the boy land on the startled mugger, upsetting his balance and making him drop to the ground from the unexpected weight.

"What the—" the mugger grunted, pushing the boy's body off him, quickly got up, slashed the knife at him and kicked his side. He would have done it again but Troy snapped his head backward with a vicious punch to the jaw and another that he staggered his balance.

Able to subdue and take possession of the knife a minute later, Troy jabbed his knee on the mugger's back as he lay face down on the ground and pressed the gleaming knife to his throat. Gabriella struggled to get up from the pain on her side and the stinging of her flesh from the slash of the knife but in her half conscious state she was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw the stranger she helped bending over the mugger's body, saying something to the mugger she couldn't hear.

Then, the stranger turned to Gabriella after knocking the mugger's head hard on the ground to pass him out, took his wallet back and made quick work of tying the unconscious muggers with the long strip of cloth he untangled from the sword. Troy held her by the arm and pulled her upright. "Let me use your phone. We have to call the cops." His tone was brusque, his concern at the moment on informing the police about the two muggers.

Gabriella blinked several times before what he said registered on her befuddled brain. "I—I don't have a phone."

Cursing, Troy ran a hand through his hair remembering that he was in the slums and of course, certain necessities like a mobile phone are not common in these parts for they can't afford it. And he doesn't have a phone either even if he can afford to have several because his father rescinded that privilege. He grabbed the boy again after tossing the knife in the pile of trash far from the unconscious muggers and got out of the dark alley into the lighted street.

He turned to the boy, about to ask him the location of the nearest precinct but as his sights beheld him and his clothes, Troy frowned in bewilderment and asked an entirely different question. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Swaying slightly, trying to stop her knees from buckling and still trying to recover from her earlier fright, Gabriella absentmindedly replied, "I'm Peter Pan."

Shaking his head at the absurdity of that reply, Troy refocused his thought on the matter at hand and at the same time he noticed that the teenage boy who unwittingly saved his life looked stricken and pale obviously still trying to recover from what happened in the alley.

Then he saw blood seeping through the green shirt where it had been slashed and his intent to express gratitude became a shout of alarmed concern. "Didn't your parents teach you to turn your head away from danger instead of charging into it?!" Troy automatically reached out to lift the shirt to better see her wound, mentally hoping that it was but a shallow cut and not life threatening. "And I could've handled that thug without your help—what the hell were you thinking?!"

With her senses spinning and her upper body in pain, Gabriella's temper surged at the harsh tone and anger that she felt was not her due. "I'm thinking I don't want to see anyone die." She shouted back, slapped his hands away and took a wobbly step out of his reach. "Didn't your parents teach you to say thank you when someone saves your life?"

"I don't want to endanger anyone's life to save my own ass!" He clamored, then as if he realized what he was doing, he took a deep breath to calm himself and he reached for the shirt again. "Let me see your wound." He insisted in a reasonable tone that also made it clear he didn't want any argument.

"I can't just pretend I didn't see you being punched by two men and then about to be stabbed too! My conscience won't let me do that—stop pulling my shirt!" Gabriella struggled against him, frantically tugging back her Peter Pan shirt in anger that he's persistently trying to strip it off her. "It's a minor cut. It stings but my gut won't spill out of it!"

"You should listen to your common sense next time—or is that not common to you?" Troy ignored her resistance, unwilling to be deterred from his intent of having a good look at the wound to appease his worry for the boy. He had to at least provide some first aid to the cut to keep it from bleeding and the only way for him to do that is for the boy to stop slapping his hand and squirming away from him and let him rid of the heavy green shirt laden with several paper leaves. "I have to bind your wound first . . . it's bleeding!"

Gabriella had the awful feeling that the man was either stupid to think of disrobing her out on the street or his concern for her being is bordering on excessive because of what happened in the alley. Whatever his reason, she kept her struggling and talking to distract him. "You know when someone saves you from danger it's only right and much easier to thank them rather than lecture them about their uncommon common sense." She was becoming dizzy and weak and the pain on her side increasing and a faint warning of danger pushed into her mind about the stranger. Maybe he's also as bad as the two muggers . . . perhaps he's not a mugger but a rapist! "Help! Help! He's taking my clothes off!"

"Shut up!" Troy snapped, losing his patience at the stupid boy in the absurd costume. He grasped the boy's arm a little roughly, subduing his kicking and screaming then pulled at the shirt by the collar and in the next second a tearing sound was heard and the silly shirt was torn practically in half all the way down the jagged hemline, the paper leaves attached to it floating down the pavement.

Gabriella gasped frightfully, thinking the worst possibilities to happen to her.

Troy froze and his eyes grew wide. "You're wearing a bra?" He asked in a startled whisper.

Gabriella pushed him back, hastily gathered the torn side of the shirt to cover her exposed chest, and burst out, "Girls wear them!"

Troy staggered back from her shove but maintained his footing as he gaped incredulously at the boy who's actually a girl. "You have breasts!"

His obvious shock over her gender diffused Gabriella's fear of him and instead fortified her fury. She felt unduly insulted—first, for not being thanked by the arrogant man for saving his life and now for mistaking her for a boy. "Girls have them!" She spat. "And I—am a girl!"

* * * * * *

Author's Note: I blame this sudden posting of new fic on Mulan. Yes, the Disney movie Mulan. Love the movie. Watched it several times years ago but after seeing it again two days past, the scene where she was found out to be a girl bugged me for some reason and my imagination wouldn't let me leave it alone so here's this. And no, as you've read, this isn't similar to Mulan's story. And I must be crazy to challenge the time on my hands by putting this out but it's already here so we'll see...

Thank you to my wonderful readers!