Prologue – When The World Knows, I'm Dead Meat
"You're shitting me, right?"
At exactly 11 o' clock that fateful Saturday morning, the first coherent thought that had occurred to Sharpay Evans was that she was capable of murder with her very bare hands.
The second was: Gabriella Montez was completely, utterly, irrevocably mental.
Propriety dictated that Sharpay Evans remain in bed till 1:00 PM on a Saturday, undisturbed, unless she consented otherwise. So naturally, it didn't sit well with the blonde when her cell phone started shrieking Don't Rain On My Parade at 11:00 AM ad infinitum, and she had a few good moment's fun brainstorming 'five best ways to kill a man and dispose of the body without being arrested' before she decided she'd had enough, slamming the phone to her ear with a blood-curdling scream of frustration and cursing into the phone in five different languages.
Only to be greeted by a hysterical Gabriella Montez, blabbering gibberish in a way only she could.
The rest was a whole different story.
"You have to help me," a pleading-bordering-on-desperate voice spoke from the phone. "Please. I'd do your laundry for a month. I'd sort your whole DVD collection out, colour-coding all the different genres and such. I'll bathe Boi for forever and I'll give him pedicures—"
Sharpay propped herself on her pillow begrudgingly, arching one eyebrow. Her brunette friend could be rather persuasive when she put her mind to it, and right now she was putting a hundred and ten per cent to it. "You drive a hard bargain."
"Just say the word, Shar, and I'll do it. I mean—For God's sake, this is important! Like, life or death important! You know my mother, Sharpay, I don't know what—"
"Give me two hours tops and I'll convince your mother not to come down to Albuquerque and drop your fat, lying ass for this unbelievable buffoonery when she discovers about it. Honestly, Gabs, what were you thinking?"
"You know what," Gabriella Montez sighed tiredly from the other side; sounding relieved for the first time since the beginning of her narration of the load of crap she'd gotten herself into, "I think that's a rather good question. My guess is I wasn't thinking, period."
"Well, it's high time you start thinking, buddy, 'cause I'll bet good money your mother would be getting suspicious about these diversions and side-stepping in no time."
Another sigh from the other end. "I know. This is so screwed-up. God, Shar, after you're done with my blessed mommy, can you come over and give me a few good smacks on the head?"
"Deal." Sharpay jerked her comforter off and crawled out of bed. "I'd better go and get dressed. Phone conversations with Mrs. Montez can be rather...," she tried not to wince as she thought of the following day's prospects, "draining."
That didn't even begin to describe it.
"You're a life-saver, Shar. You rock awesome."
Sharpay grunted. "Meanwhile, you should sit down and breathe. You sound like you're not far from bursting an artery or two."
"You got that right," Gabriella replied, chuckling a little. "I'd better get off too, since, if I remember correctly, I have one I-do-able man named Alex to find. And a killer headache to get rid of. Joy."
"Good luck with that," Sharpay smirked. Then she gaped. "Wait – you told her your hubby-to-be is named Alex? Are you fucking serious, girl?"
But the tell-tale click of the phone told her the brunette had already hung up.