DISCLAIMER: I don't own High School Musical or any of the characters, blah blah blah.
A/N: Alrighty, this is my first fanfiction that I've put on here! Whoo! -dances- Anyway, it's Sharpay-centric - meaning, of course, that it will revolve around Sharpay Evans. I'm not quite sure of the pairings I'm going to include so far, so bear with me as I write up the simple, introductory stuff. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave your reviews!
People tell me that I'm cruel. I've had the nickname of 'Ice Princess' ever since the sixth grade. I don't have many friends, and the few that I have are more fake than they are real. Ryan's the only one that's stood by me when I've needed someone to lean on; everyone else has looked on or laughed.
Would they do that if they knew my story? Would they care? Or would they seem indifferent to all the pain and heartache my family has endured over the years? I think you should judge.
SIXTH GRADE
It was the sixth grade, and Ryan and I had finally moved on from elementary to middle school. I was so ready for the big halls and many classes of East Middle School; ready for all the harder work the new building was supposed to bring and all of the exciting activities it offered. Really, looking back at myself, I realize what a little nerd I'd been, way back when.
"SHARPAY HOPE EVANS! GET DOWN HERE OR WE'RE LEAVING!" Ryan's voice screamed up at me, floating through the cracks of my bedroom door. I could hear him stomping upstairs, and I rolled my eyes before taking a final look at myself in the mirror.
I haven't always been blonde, you know. Up until sixth grade, I was purely brunette, and my chestnut hair often flowed in long, curly tresses down my back. Ryan was the "lucky" one; the blonde by birth. I was just the brown-haired girl that liked to study and perform on stage.
I admired my eyes and my face, which had molded into that of a post-pubescent teenager over the summer. In the past three months, I'd aged a year, as some people liked to say. I liked to think of it that way; I was glad to be moving on from a young girl to a teenager…well, a pre-teen, anyway.
"SHARPAY COME DOWN HERE!" Ryan repeated, slamming the door open to my room. Picking up my backpack, I scurried after him without a word. If someone had been watching, they probably would have thought that Ryan and I hated each other, but that wasn't the case at all. Really, back then, he was more of the leader; the one that commanded attention of anyone and everyone that crossed his path.
He'd been the semi-jerky popular kid that all the girls threw themselves at. Though, he'd always been second-place to Troy Bolton. Troy was the cute, goody-goody boy that played basketball well and was loved by all that saw him. I think Ryan's always been a little jealous of Bolton. Of course, he'd never admit it. But I know better.
Strapping myself into the seat of my mom's minivan, I could feel the tension in the air. You see, Ryan and I had never really gotten along with our mother. She was the kind of woman you'd expect to see in Housewife Monthly; the blonde with the perfectly-manicured fingernails and perfectly-done platinum hair. She was a trophy wife; a Stepford wife in her own way.
And as for our father? He was a workaholic. Ryan and I barely ever saw him as kids. The man engrossed himself in his work - he was an insurance agent for the Albuquerque area's most prominent insurance company, Top Notch. He brought home the money; Ry and I knew better than to 'question his authority' and the like. Mostly, we just said hi to him when we had to and showed him around our school on Fathers' Morning. We avoided him when we could and spoke to him when we had to.
As you can tell, our family was pretty dysfunctional. But despite that, nothing could have quashed my enthusiasm for the first day of school. When at last our silent car pulled up to the school's entrance, I breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on," I whispered to Ryan, poking his shoulder as I grabbed my backpack and half fell out of the car in my excitement. "We can't be late to middle school!"
The first part of my day went fine. Teachers and students were introduced, new kids shuffled around shyly; old friends chatted about their summers in the hallway. Watching the friends, I got a little jealous. As a kid, I didn't have many - it was just Ryan and the occasional bookworm or theatre-obsesser.
Lost in my own thoughts, I made my way to lunch for sixth period and immediately slammed into a fellow student. "Sorry…" I muttered quietly, trying to stand. The girl I'd fallen into was a pretty, tall African-American girl wearing a blazer and flowered skirt. She offered me a slight smile and extended a hand to help me up.
"Oh, it's no problem!" the girl chirped with a shrug as she helped me stand. "I'm Taylor. Taylor McKessie."
Smiling back, I dusted invisible dirt off my jeans. "Sharpay," I replied, nodding slightly and letting my hand fall back to my side. "Sharpay Evans...are you in sixth grade, too?"
Taylor nodded, and the rest of our conversation was filled with the normal kinds of things you say and ask when you meet someone new. I won't go further on the subject; but I will say that it was the start of a short-lived friendship. You could say that Taylor McKessie was my first stop on my road to change.