Title: Useless Masquerade
Rating: T for coarse language, might go up to M in later chapters but I'm not sure.
Chapter Summary: "Vowels, Ryan. A. E. I owe you nothing."
Author's Note: After a long, long time, I'm back. This is my first story in about a year. My last one, "Natural Disaster," was just that- a disaster. This one is a disaster, as well, but it's meant to be that way. You'll see. Oh and you're only getting one disclaimer because if I have to remind myself everytime I write a chapter that I don't own HSM, I'll go insane. I also don't own any songs by Men, Women, and Children. I don't own the book Invisible Monsters. Okay. Bye.
It all makes sense to her as she's sitting indian-style on the couch in front of a plasma screen television with a Chuck Palahniuk book in her hands and "Back to the Future" flashing across the screen. This is the last week of her completely tainted summer- the very last summer of her high school career- and this is the only part of it she plans to remember: the same four white walls mocking her so harshly that she has to keep her face buried between the rough pages of the book for fear she'll break down and show emotion to the very people she's worked so hard to hide it from. See, the walls aren't really the ones mocking her. No, it's the people in the next room over: those God damned Wildcats dancing around her brother's room like they haven't a care in the world. And the song, the stupid song that she still hadn't forgiven herself for giving into, she could hear it no matter where she went in the house. Even downstairs in the dance studio, where the sound system reigned supreme over all others, she could hear it because it would play in the back of her mind as she drove her feet to bleeding because for some reason she just couldn't get it right- no, Sharpay, for the millionth fucking time, it's step-step-hitch kick-cross-unwind.
So after finding that they have bled her dry for every ounce of her talent, she has reduced herself to reading Invisible Monsters over and over- she can easily finish it in two hours- as countless movies pass her by. Somewhere in there, sleep gets tossed into the mix, but only when Princess Princess deems it necessary. After reading the last line of the book- at this point, she can almost recite the entire last chapter- Sharpay stands and stretches her arms, then crosses them, then lets them drop to her side. She decides to head down to the kitchen and actually eat something. Possibly junk food. Upon arriving on the scene of the oppulent display that is the Evans family kitchen, she finds a certain blonde boy rifling through the cabinets and grabbing every ounce of junk food they own. Sharpay's nostrils flare and she slams one of the cabinets so hard that Ryan has to jerk his hand back so fast that it hurts just so he wouldn't be without a finger. Then she smiles at him.
"Your Wildcats may take my peace and quiet, but they will not take my comfort food." she says simply, grabbing the large bag of Doritos from his arms and striding over to the island. She's not surprised when Ryan follows her.
"Sharpay..." He hisses her name, almost as though he's warning her, and she laughs at how easy it is for her to get his blood boiling. He must notice this because, although he is a foot behind her, she can feel him taking those few deep breaths before he repeats her name. "Sharpay." It's softer this time. Still angry, though. And still funny. But this time, Sharpay keeps the laughter contained in her throat and instead opens the bag of Doritos, sliding one into her mouth without even so much as turning to glance at Ryan. He moves to the other side of the island and stares at her. She blinks at him boredly.
"Sharpay-"
"Ryan," she cuts him off smoothly after swallowing the last of her first Cool Ranch Dorito. "If you say my name one more time, I might find myself inclined to cut your tongue out of your mouth. If you plan to say something, go ahead and get to it." her tone is even and devoid of emotion. He just smirks.
"Sharpay," he makes sure to put emphasis on it, and in a flash she's reached into the drawer under her and pulled out a butcher's knife. She's gripping it, tapping the point against the counter at a slow, even pace. He pales visibly- she never knew it was possible- and gulps, but marches on as the look on her face screams 'test me!' "You've been sabotaging Troy and Gabriella and the gang-"
"The gang, Ryan?" she tosses back her head and laughs at this, after which she waves her free hand for him to continue.
"Yes, Sharpay, the gang. You've been sabotaging them for two years now and I think you owe them- us-" he tries to continue, but she looks up at him sharply, her knuckles turning white as she grips the handle of the knife even tighter.
"Vowels, Ryan," she says slowly, her tone deadly. He stares at her plainly, obviously not getting it.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he thinks just for a second that he might have said the wrong thing, but his brain has no time to elaborate on that because she's leaned forward and grabbed the collar of his polo, bringing their faces only centimeters apart. He can't see the knife. He's convinced she's going to kill him. He gulps and his brain is working overtime on silent prayers.
"A. E." she pauses to lean even closer so that her lips are to his ear, making herself certain that he will never forget her next words. "I owe you nothing ." Before he can respond, she's dropped the knife back into the drawer, grabbed her bag of Doritos, and flounced out of the kitchen, her middle finger the only thing she sees as she exits. He gulps again and makes the sign of the cross. In a daze, he picks up the bags he's dropped on the ground and places them back on the counter. When he leaves the kitchen, he doesn't take an ounce of food with him. In fact, he doesn't take anything with him except the one thought that's ringing in his mind like a tuning fork pitched at a brick wall. When he opens the door to his bedroom, Gabriella is the first person at his side, feeling his forehead and grabbing his wrist to check his pulse. He stares at her as though it's the first time he's seeing her, and he does the same as the rest of his newfound friends rush over to stand around him, a chorus of "are you okay?"s and "Ryan!"s sounding about as melodic as a dying cat. Gabriella silences them all and grabs both of Ryan's hands in her own, moving so that he's staring right into her eyes.
"Ryan," her tone is even too and he winces a little at how much it reminds her of the way Sharpay had said his name just a few minutes ago. "What's wrong?"
He looks around at all of them slowly, squinting as though they were miles away. After a minute, he looks back down at Gabriella and opens his mouth to voice the thought that had repeated in his head since he left the kitchen.
"My sister's completely fucking insane."
And he laughs. But it isn't the jovial kind where every one else wants to join in because, although what he said could have been taken in the way that would have made them laugh, something about his tone made the temperature in the room drop and made everyone take a little step back from him. So he laughs alone. It starts as a low chuckle, but in no time he's howling, bent over and slapping his knees. And no one's going to say it, but everyone's thinking it.
We could say the same about you.
Before you guys say anything, I know. I know the story's all over the place and has no plot and all that good stuff. But it's like when you watch a movie about a schizophrenic person and it jumps all over the place and sometimes you lose the plot. It'll all come together in the next chapter, I promise. I just really wanted to get this up and stuff before I lost my inspiration. The title, all the chapter titles, some of the quotes in the story- is going to be based on Men, Women, and Children's self-titled album because I have been listening to it repeatedly for a long time now. I've loved them since forever but I've only recently started to actually be addicted. Anyway, other than the fact that this chapter had no structure whatsoever, let me know what you think!
( just keep it moving like a hurricane )