Gabriella Montez's Bedroom
4:30 p.m.
The Getup: Citizens of Humanity dark wash jeans, James Perse scoop neck oversize tee, socks from Aeropostale
Gabriella. Troy.
Troy. Gabriella.
Troyella.
"Oh, how cute," Gabriella Montez grumbled to herself as she slammed her bedroom door shut and leaned against it. Without her knowing, the East High's yearbook committee had voted Troy and herself as "Cutest Couple". Usually, something like that would have warmed her from the inside out like a muffin in a conventional oven, but the problem was, they weren't listed under "Troy and Gabriella". They were listed under the "brilliant" couple name "Troyella".
It made her want to dry heave.
Because it broke the rules.
Ah, yes, the rules. The rules that Gabriella had conjured up in her brain while sobbing her eyes out into her pillow. The day before that fateful day, her 6th grade boyfriend, Eric, had broken up with her. Via email.
After wiping her eyes for a short moment, Gabriella concluded(rather scientifically) that the only reason she was so upset was because she had thought that he was The One. Why? Because they shared T-shirts, went to the "Couples Only" roller skating rink nights, and had an adorable name: Geric. So when they broke up, she was disappointed. And she made up the rules:
Thou must not share clothes with the male.
Thou must not go to cutesy "couples events" with the male.
Thou must not "check out" the male's cellphone for information. He must not check out yours, either.
Thou must not take nude pictures for the male under any circumstances.
Thou must not have mindless sex with the male.
Thou must not share a name with the male.
And she vowed to follow them for the rest of her life. Until she was married. Then some could be bent a tad.
Gabriella had always followed the rules with her past boyfriend.
But with Troy, she was slipping.
Of course, Troy understood this philosophy(to Gabby's disappointment, he thought it was "cute"), but Gabriella could tell how his face fell when she refused to borrow a shirt from him. She could see how he sort of sighed when she refused to go to "Couples Only" events. But she didn't understand.
She had gone to junior prom with him, hadn't she?
What more could he possibly want?
Sex?
Gabriella's dark brown eyes widened at the realization that this could be what he was longing all along. But he wasn't going to get it.
Yet.
***
Catarina "Catie" Ronson
Classroom 43A, 4:33 p.m.
The Getup: "The Troy Outfit": Romeo and Juliet denim stretch leggings, Green Envelope jersey scoop top, Camilla Skovgaard python open ankle boots
Troy Bolton. Young. Hot. Althetic.
Hopefully available for the Sadie Hawkins dance.
Catie couldn't take it anymore. She had been tutoring the delectable Troy Bolton for two weeks in Algebra, and he wouldn't mention a word about the dance. Obviously, Gabriella hadn't gotten around to asking him yet, because he wasn't bouncing up and down, like he did when Gabriella was involved.
So he was available. Hopefully.
Why Gabriella? Of course, Gabriella was adorably cute and a super genius, but Catie was equally attractive. And didn't Troy specifically mention in 9th grade how he had a weakness for blondes? Hello!
Catie was like the more adorable and smart Elle Woods.
And it wasn't like Gabriella wasn't trying hard for him, anyway.
Catie was trying. Catie was most definitely trying. Every day she came to school in the best clothes(well, other than Sharpay's), and practically threw herself at him.
Troy was perfectly capable of catching a basketball, and yet he couldn't catch her.
They were perfect together. Catie Ronson: cute, athletic, smiley(if that was a word?). Troy Bolton: hot, athletic, ambitious…
And right now? Five minutes late.
Before Catie could even finish reading the numbers on her watch, Troy had glided into the empty classroom, basketball under his right armpit.
"Hey," he said, absentmindedly, sitting right next to her. The scent of Axe wafted up Catie's nose and she had the sudden urge to faint, which she ignored, thank God.
"Hi," Catie said shyly. "You're um, l—"
"Late. I know," Troy looked as if he wanted to kill himself. "I was just thinking about some stuff outside, and I lost track of—"
"What were you thinking about?" The words slipped out of Catie's mouth before she could stop them.
"Stuff." Troy answered quickly. "Gabriella."
Catie's blue eyes darkened a few shades at the mention of his girlfriend's name. It's me you want, not her! Me!
"Oh, um," Catie cleared her throat. "okay, then, did you bring your textbook?"
"Ahhhh, no," Troy smacked himself on the forehead, his bangs shifting to the other side of his head. "Sorry. I'll go get it—"
"No, you can share with me," Catie said a little too quickly. She silently cursed herself for bringing up the suggestion. Even closer proximity to the yummy times ten basketball star would possibly stop her heart.
"Um," Troy began, a little surprised. "okay."
Catie awkwardly pulled the textbook out of her bag and let it drop on the desk. The loud thud made Troy jump slightly. He started to laugh, so Catie forced a chuckle here and there.
"That really scared me," Troy laughed, hand over his heart. Which was probably ripped into pieces by Gabriella, Catie grumbled to herself.
"Anyway," Catie changed the subject. "Let's get started on two-step equations."
***
Kelsi Nielsen
In-Home Studio, 5:34 p.m.
The Getup: Design History pearl cashmere turtleneck, dark wash jeans from T.J. Maxx, silver mirrored Miu Miu ballet flats
Composing six sheets of music was not hard.
Finding a boy that would actually go to the Sadie Hawkins' dance with you was.
No one…she couldn't think of anyone. Zeke…too weird…and taken by Sharpay. Jason…too dumb. Troy…most certainly not. Chad…Taylor would have her for dinner.
Dances sucked.
A frustrated and slightly sweaty Kelsi Nielsen ran her slender piano fingers through her chestnut brown curls and sighed. Not only was the fall musical for senior year at East High hard to compose music for, but it also starred Sharpay. And Sharpay was not happy with her right now.
Several texts had made Kelsi's LG Chocolate buzz on top of the piano. Sharpay had sent her everything from "WHERE IS MY SHEET MUSIC?" to "Please. Let me have my sheet music. Please. :)"
It wasn't helping. Neither was Kelsi's little sister.
Darya Nielsen, being only 5 years old, had been running through the Nielsen house, high on Kool-Aid, for the past hour, dashing into the home studio and sitting on the piano, and then pulling at Kelsi's sprigs of hair. It didn't help that Kelsi's mom, Natasha, kept screaming at Darya: "Darya Galina Nielsen, het het!" It didn't help that Kelsi's wife-beater wearing dad kept storming into the room, demanding to know why Kelsi wasn't practicing.
Frustrated, Kelsi placed her limber fingers on the ivory piano keys and thundered away, hoping that Bach would calm her.
"KELSI OLEYSA ALINA NIELSEN, STOP THIS AT ONCE!" Her father's booming voice came from upstairs and Bach ended abruptly and without warning. Half-sobbing and half laughing, Kelsi threw herself onto the cream couch next to the Steinway L piano and crumpled into a ball.
"I hate Sadie Hawkins,"