The song that Ryan sings to in this is New York, New York. The lyrics here are a first time try, so hopefully they aren't too bad.

Departure

Normally, Ryan Evans didn't mind riding in Sharpay's Pepto Bismal drunk mustang convertible. He could just lean back, kick his feet up on the dash, as long as his feet were shoed in a designer brand, and listen to his favorite music. Summer break was at an end but the weather had refused to agree. It was warm and comfortable and just enough breeze to take the worst of the heat off the beating sun.

But today, he was too tense, too full of nervous energy to truly enjoy the ride and relax. He would be leaving Albuquerque, New Mexico, his home for the last three years, and traveling across the country to New York City. Julliard. The school that every performance artist dreamed of.

Shar had droned on endlessly about how terrible he was for leaving her behind and that he absolutely had to keep her up to date on all the fabulous fashions in New York. The whole of the summer he couldn't wait to leave for Julliard, to escape her prattle, his mother's nerves, or his father's disapproving eye.

At first, Cord Evans had seemed pleased with Ryan's acceptance into the Julliard school, but it had quickly disintegrated. He knew his father had always harbored hope that Ryan would eventually decide to pursue a baseball career, but he'd misjudge how much his father had truly wanted it.

"Okay. Bye, Mummy. Kisses," Sharpay chirped over the cell phone, before snapping it shut and sticking it in it's cradle. "Mother's going to meet us at the airport. I still can't believe you're leaving me, Ry. What will you do without me? Who will take care of you?"

Ryan repressed a sigh. "It will be difficult, but somehow I'll manage."

She looked over at him, beaming a smile, having missed the sarcasm lacing his voice. "Of course, you will."

He gave her a weak smile as the Albuquerque International Sunport loomed up ahead of them. His heart decided to beat at a triple staccato count right then. This would be the perfect time for a few Yoga exercises. Instead, he took deep, even breaths.

Sharpay skidded the Mustang next to one of the baggage carriers, nearly jumping the curb and hitting a number of passerby. They scattered, murmuring and pointing as Sharpay swung her door open and popped her trunk as oblivious as ever. Sometimes, he envied his sister her ability to tune out anything that troubled her.

Ryan snatched the baggage carrier and began unloading his luggage, each an variant of blue that wouldn't clash with the very pink Mustang. Sharpay took Boi out of his carrier, before handing the keys to the valet and slipping him a twenty while 'requesting' a parking place with shade.

The double doors parted as Sharpay marched ahead. Ryan, intrepid traveler that he was, had booked his flight at a time where the airport was the quietest. Because of this, they spotted their mother quickly.

Evelyn Evans was way beyond a modern day mother. She looked more like a fashion designer posing for the latest magazine, than a mother ready to send her son off to college. Reginald, Evelyn's personal driver, stood to her right, unobtrusive, nearly invisible. She was casting a brown-eyed gaze around the terminal, no doubt planning to send the manager a list of decorative changes.

One look at him and Evelyn's eyes filled with crocodile tears. She held her arms out to him and he stepped into her hug.

"Hi, Mom," he said brightly.

"Ducky," she said, her voice half-chocked. "Oh, my darling boy."

"Mother, you'll smudge your mascara," Sharpay warned her, though Ryan was surprised to hear the same tears in her voice.

He pulled gently away from Evelyn's grasp and turned to face Sharpay. His twin. The other half of him. The ying to his yang. "Shar," he breathed, sympathetically.

She stomped her foot and the pout that was usually a part of her act, was strikingly real. "What am I going to do without you?"

It was what she'd been saying all along in her own special way. No one had ever asked him, but he knew the question was in everyone of his friends' minds. Why did he put up with Sharpay's antics? The answer was simple. She needed him. And because she needed him, he needed her.

The last year had changed much of that. It had long stopped being Ryan and Sharpay in everything, even if she did try to sway him to her side for the spring musical. He already had his part, choreographer, and he didn't mind sharing the spotlight with everyone else.

The show had been better for it.

He had been better for it.

With a hand behind her neck, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then gave a bright laugh. "Are you kidding? You're Sharpay Evans. You're going to blow U of A out of the water. And next year, I won't be the only Evans at Julliard."

"I'll never have some one who knows me like you do, the way you do," he sung softly.

"I've never had some one as good for me as you, no on like you," she finished.

Grinning now, she swiped at the tears under her eyes. "Break a leg, Ry."

"You too, Shar."

Boi yipped at him and Ryan ruffled his conditioned hair. "Bye, Boi."

His mother engulfed him in another hug, slipping a wad of hundred into his hands. "Mom...," he began.

"Take it, Ducky. I don't want my darling boy destitute."

"All right," he agreed, pocketing the money into his plaid pants.

"Do you need help with your luggage?" his mother asked.

"No, I've got it."

"Flight 129, Albuquerque, New Mexico to New York, New York, now boarding."

His eyes darted up at the sound, then shot to the clock.

"Time to start something new, I'm leaving today," he sang, hugging his mother and sister one last time.

Pushing his carrier, at a run, he quickly stepped onto it and road it down the corridor. "Time for a bigger part in it – Julliard, Julliard."

An airport attendant stepped out and grabbed the carrier as Ryan leaped off, ending in a spin. "The past is over now, I won't throw it away."

"Right to the center stage of it – Julliard, Julliard." He threw his arms and hands out, fingers splayed and waving. "I wanna start singing my ditty, my own creed. And be top of the class, taking the lead."

With a cry, he caught a young woman in a dancing hold and pranced her around the corridor. He kissed her hand and waved.

Running for the concourse, he belted, "Let's get there faster, can't stand to wait! I'm going; yes I'm going to Julliard! Singin', Dancin', Theatre, I'll do it guess where? Gotta dance, yes dance at Julliard."

Kicking, his legs up, Ryan was lost in the song.

"Julliard, Julliard! I wanna start singing my ditty, my own creed. And find I'm number one, top of the class, taking the lead. 'A' number one."

Jazz square, pivet, passé and abruptly, he was in line, waiting for the ticket tacker to pass him through the gate.

"Let's get there faster, can't stand to wait! I'm going; yes I'm going to Julliard! Singin', Dancin', Theatre, I'll do it guess where?"

"It's up to you Julliard, Julliard!!"

Someone cleared their throat and the brass and strings playing in his head ceased. "Um, sir?"

He blinked at the gray haired gentleman, who held out a gnarled hand towards him. "You're ticket, sir."

"Yeah, sorry," he fumbled in his jacket before producing the ticket. The gentleman took it, ran it through his scanner, then handed it back.

"Thanks," Ryan murmured. Following his fellow passengers, he let out a slow breath. "Okay, I'm worse than Sharpay."