In the Mirror, a high school musical fanfic

Note: Hello darlings! I just got back from my school's Homecoming. Not the best dance/event of the year, but I still had fun. And next week I'm going to another homecoming with this guy from another school. I'm excited! I've never attended another high school's dance. Anyways. It seems like I haven't posted anything in the longest time! So here's another oneshot. It's angst-driven, but not quite as hilarious as Troy's "Bet on It." Cough. ;)

Warning: It's rather dark.

in the mirror.

Sometimes she stared at her reflection in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl gazing back at her.

It felt utterly surreal, looking in the mirror and not recognizing what she was seeing. For a second, she almost thought that some other girl was standing in her bedroom, some other girl who was broken and damaged. But she couldn't pretend anymore – she could no longer pretend that nothing had changed, she could no longer lie to her family and to her friends and to herself. The changes were now evident, the differences set in stone, any hope that she had ever harbored that things could get better were gone.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She ran a parched hand over the smooth surface, then withdrew it sharply, her dull brown eyes still focused on the mirror almost expectantly, as if waiting for the reflection to shift and show someone more lively, maybe even someone beautiful. The word stung even though she hadn't said it aloud. It was a cruel reminder of what her life had been like before: once upon a time, someone had told her she was beautiful.

She cringed. No one could ever think she was beautiful the way she was now, with her matted russet curls and sullen eyes that were nearly always blank and detached. She was a tragedy, a disappointment, a failure …and she was anything but beautiful. Some nights when she couldn't sleep, she'd toss and turn and contemplate how she could ever have let things get this far. Why couldn't she have been strong enough to say no? Why couldn't she have turned things around while there was still time? Why did she have to push away everyone who wanted to help?

She'd lost it all, she'd lost everything. Everything from her mother's trust to her friends to her dignity and self respect. All of it, gone. And the worst part was knowing that it was all her fault. It was her fault that she had taken that first sip of beer so long ago. It was her fault that she had skipped class for the first time to smoke pot behind the school. It was her fault that she went to that stupid party and slept with that stupid jerk and cheated on Troy.

She heard the whispers at school, she had a pretty good idea of what people were saying about her. "Bitch," the occasional girl would remark. Others would hiss, "Slut," as she walked by them in the hallway. The guys would nudge each other and point at her, waggling eyebrows and looking her up and down. And there, on the wall of one of the first floor girl bathrooms, it read clearly, For a good time call Gabriella Montez, with her phone number written right under it. She kept her head up the best that she could. At lunch she'd hide in the third floor bathroom, which no one ever went to because none of the toilets worked and the place smelled awful no matter how much air freshener was used. But Gabriella had no choice, and besides it was fitting – the bathroom was falling apart, just like her.

She almost had to muffle a sob. What had she done? She thought of the small supply of cocaine sitting in the top drawer of her dresser. She thought of the three empty beer bottles lying uselessly under her bed, and the four unopened ones in her closet. She thought of the pack of condoms sitting innocently in her book bag. And then she thought of people. Troy. Taylor. Kelsi. Her mother. People she had hurt, people she had loved, people she had lost. 18 years old, and she was a mess and a waste.

"Gabriella," a soft voice said suddenly, "Gabriella, what are you doing?" She felt his presence before she heard him, and so she had turned to face him by the time he stopped speaking. She didn't answer the question, she knew it could have been taken two ways and she didn't know how to tell him an answer that she was searching for herself.

"How did you get in here?" she asked, and her voice felt rough and unfamiliar, as if she hadn't spoken for days. And maybe she hadn't, she couldn't even remember. It wasn't that he was unwelcome, it was almost as if he looked like he fit in her room more than she did. It was a nice room, currently decorated with shades of lavender and some splashes of pink. She'd pick the colors because she thought they were beautiful. Troy was beautiful. She wasn't. Therefore she didn't fit.

"The balcony door was open," Troy said, and he hesitated for a fraction of a minute. "Sorry for just barging in. But I know you wouldn't have invited me, and ...I just missed you." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and then shuffled from one foot to the other.

She wanted to say the words back, to be honest and to tell him that she had missed him more than he could ever have imagined. But something, a mixture of humiliation, insecurity, timidity, and maybe something else stopped her. If he had just appeared in her room before, when she wasn't a disaster, it would have been different. But she was no longer the same girl, and a simple hello could no longer make everything better.

Hey Gabi. Troy laughed and lifted her up in the air, swinging her around blithely. Then he placed her gently on the ground and kissed her. I love you, you know?

Hey Gabi. The desired and hot football player, already drunk, begged her to loosen up and have some beer, just a little, just one sip. Come on, you know you want to. Just try, okay?

Hey Gabi. Her new friend Amelia, whom she'd met at the party, held out a bag of pot and promised she wouldn't get addicted, promised she wouldn't get in trouble, promised it'd be mind blowing. You're gonna thank me, Gabi, this shit is crazy good.

Hey Gabi. Maria Montez stopped in her tracks after getting home from work, taking in her daughter's bloodshot eyes and her disheveled appearance. What's been going on with you lately? I never see you around the house anymore, and you look so ...different.

Hey Gabi. Troy stared at her in disbelief, trying to recognize the girl standing before him. If you didn't want to be with me anymore, why didn't you just say something? God Gabriella ...I feel like I don't you anymore.

Hey Gabi. Gabriella forced herself to look in the mirror, to look at the girl she'd become right in the eye. Her voice came out as a whisper. Who are you now?

"Gabriella." She shifted back to the present, Troy was talking again. He was fidgeting, clearly nervous, but he looked her directly in the eye and didn't step away. "I know you've changed, I know you're different now ...but I want to help you. I want to bring you back. If you let me."

She didn't understand. After what she'd done to him, to everyone, why would he want to help her? "You can't help me," she whispered. She was far beyond capable of being helped, and she knew it, no matter how much she wanted to pretend that with a snap of her fingers or a click of her heels, she could be singing Twinkle Town all over again. "I mean it's impossible. I'm not worth it Troy."

She expected him to back away, to agree, to leave. But he shook his head vehemently. "You are." He said fiercely. "You're worth everything. You're going to get better Gabriella. It doesn't have to stay this way."

"Troy." Her voice was shaking. "Troy I have beer bottles in my closet. I have cocaine in my dresser. I have condoms, birth control pills, drugs, more drugs, anything you can think of! My life is fucked up Troy. Some things can't be mended. Some people can't be mended."

"Don't say that!" He moved a few steps closer so that they were only 2 feet apart. "Don't ever say that Gabriella. You made a mistake. We all make them, we're all capable of making them. And you know what else we're capable of? Fixing them." When she started shaking her head, he continued sadly, "What happened to you Gabriella? We can do anything we want to, remember? We can break free," he said desperately, "we can. I know it."

"It's different now." She argued, biting her lip. "I asked for it," she muttered brokenly, tears stinging her eyes. "Didn't I? It's my fault, I did everything I wasn't supposed to do ...I wanted this for myself." She paused. "Look at me Troy. I'm a mess."

He considered her for a few moments, letting silence fill the room. He didn't hesitate and she envied him that, how he managed to remain confident even when there was no hope. But he seemed to disagree. He wondered why she couldn't see it. "No," he said the words slowly, carefully, as if he were thinking them through, as if he finally understood something. "You're beautiful."

"I'm a disaster," she repeated dubiously.

She expected him to frown, to agree, to change his mind. But he smiled. "You haven't heard of beautiful disasters?" He pressed his hand to her cheek, gently. "It's a start, Gabriella. You work with what you have, right?"

And she almost felt beautiful again. It wouldn't get better over night. Maybe it wouldn't even get better over the span of a few months. But she had to keep hoping, she had to keep trying. It was the only way, and just like Troy said, it was a beginning.

It's the start of something new.

Note: Just to clarify, all the little scenes that start with "Hey Gabi" are flashbacks that show how Gabriella's life has gone downhill from the Twinkle Town/Lava Springs Country Club days. Angst isn't my strongest point, so you'll definitely see me writing more of it very soon. I like working on genres that I'm not too familiar with (though I always throw in some romance!), so expect more oneshots like these to come. I'm already working on another Troyella angsty romance. This one will probably even better, because I'm working with a fabulous beta who you all are probably familiar with. She's a great writer, but I'm not telling you who it is yet, it's a surprise. (:

Review?