Author's Note: This is written for GilmoreGirlJunkie94. Merry Christmas!
Dear Santa,
Haven't talked to you in a while. Last time I talked to you, actually, was when I was still sucking my thumb. I keep saying, ever year, "I don't believe in Santa Claus anymore! I'm a teenager!" But, Santa, I do believe. I guess I have to. Because you brought me my gift this year. Well, part of it… A tad bit later than Christmas, at a New Year's Eve party, really. But I got it. And I'm glad.
My friends would always say, "What'd you ask for for Christmas?" And I'd always say a basketball. Santa, if I get another basketball, I'm coming for someone's throat. And I mean that with all due respect, because I don't want to hurt you or anyone else.
I think I've been a fairly good person this year. I mean, I threw Chad's geometry homework in the toilet once or twice, but, Santa, you have to understand, a human can only hear "The Sweet Escape" by Gwen Stefani SO MANY TIMES before he goes insane.
I've been nice to my family, though! I mean, besides the times when I flipped out on my dad in the gym and stormed away. But again, he was driving me nuts. That singing thing wouldn't have affected me so much had he not pressured me so much! But… I'm trying to be nice. My anger therapist says I need to breathe when I get worked up, so I'm going to try that.
One two three BREATHE. One two three BREATHE.
Well, I have to say, I'm much calmer than before. Whenever you get pissed at Mrs. C for burning the cookies, or Rudolph for being a lazy ass and not trying to lead the sled, you should try that breathing thing. It helps.
Where was I? Oh! Yeah. So you might be wondering what exactly I'm wishing for. I've been rather ambiguous about it, huh? (haha. Yes, being with Gabriella almost twenty four seven has taught me some fancy words: ambiguous, analytical, idiosyncratic, bathe…) So, I gave that hint earlier, remember? About you already bringing me part of my Christmas present. Well, that part was Gabriella Montez- one of the sweetest, kindest, prettiest, coolest, smartest… Okay, Chad says that if I do that one more time, he's going to shoot me in the face, so I'm going to stop there. But she's a great girl, Santa. I bet she's number one on your Nice List (and don't lie to me, Santa. You know it's true!)
Well, I have the girl- the awesomely awesome girl. One problem is- I don't REALLY have her. I have her friendship, yes, and that is a-okay with me. One more TEENSY EENSY little problem is: I fell madly in love with her and I fear she doesn't love me back. I mean… she doesn't HAVE to love me back, I guess. It's a 'free country' or whatever my little cousin exclaims when she eats my cookies at Christmas dinner.
So what I really want this year is a little thing called love. Oh, yeah. It's in me right now. But I'm not talking about me falling in love. I'm talking about HER. I really want Gabriella to love me, Santa, as I'm sure you want Mrs. C to love you. I want that. I want to grow up, live in a two-story house with blue shutter and a red door, have two kids: a boy and a girl named Daniel and Ellen, and a golden retriever named Sparky. Not that I've planned it anyway.
So, Santa, it would mean a lot to me if Gabriella loved me. So, if you could just spread a little Christmas magic, I'm hoping it will come true. If not… there's always next year, right?
Love,
Troy Bolton
P.S. I hope you like sugar cookies. We made you chocolate chip at first but then Chad ate them all.
