The final note had been played, the final word sung, the final beat clapped. Everyone roared into a mess of applause. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with air, a grin spread across my over-enthusiastic face. Sometimes I questioned how anyone could call me an 'outstanding performer'. My actions always seem so fake and over-exaggerated to me. But I loved it. Performing that is. Troy Bolton grabbed my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. I stole a glance in his direction and saw every emotion on his face light up. I grinned bigger. He had that kind of ever-lasting hold on me, and he didn't even know it. Ryan was on my opposite side; he grabbed my hand as well, and mouthed 'one-one-hundred, two-one-hundred, three-one-hundred...' while we all bowed. The curtains closed quickly, and everyone around me began to disperse, to the exception of Troy.
"Hey," I muttered, smiling softly up at him.
"Hey," he said, returning the smile.
"Great job, really." I fiddled nervously with my sleeves, "I mean, I didn't know you were such a good-"
He cut me off with his lips, and for once I was completely taken aback by someone interrupting me. He pulled away, looking me dead in the eyes.
"Troy, I love you!" I half yelled.
"I..." He trailed off, "need you to wake up."
"What?" I stammered, "No. No, not again! God damn it, no!" I was shouting now, and my dreams were fading into reality.
My eyes shot open. The room was being flooded with the enthusiastic voice of 'The Rocket Summer'. I sighed. There was a gentle knock on my door.
"You up?" my other, more sensitive half called to me.
"Unfortunately..." I muttered, just loud enough for his ears.
"Dreaming about Troy again, Shar?" Ryan teased me.
"Yes..." I groaned.
"Someday, it'll happen," his voice echoed down our elegant hallway. Not in a mocking way, but in an understanding way. Ryan was one of the few people who really understood me, even though I was pretty hard on him.
"The mean thoughts and cheap shot, they will not weaken me." The Rocket Summer rang.
I nodded solemnly to myself, "Exactly."
I sauntered down the hall, following Ry into the bathroom. He was standing at his assigned sink (it even said 'Ryan Evans' on the top in lights), pulling a brush through his hair. I kissed him on the cheek, giving him a loving squeeze. He was one of the only two people who saw this side of me. I stood at my mirror, sizing myself up. There wasn't much to work with. My straw-colored hair hung to my shoulders in a messy nest, and my too-tight shirt accented the holiday weight I'd gained last week. I sighed, staring over at Ryan. He most certainly got the better half of our genes. Looking back to my mirror, I grabbed my hot pink mesh bag, and fished out my foundation, my eyeliner, my lip gloss, my mascara, my eye shadow, and my cover-up. I began plucking, curling, and applying, using all of the tools laid before me. Roughly five minutes later, I figured my make-up was done, so I moved on to my mess of hair. I stole Ryan's brush and yanked it through my hair, releasing a small yelp. I pulled a bobby pin from my bag and pulled my bang over to the side of my face, pinning it there. I concealed it all with an unnatural amount of hairspray. Another five minutes passed slowly.
"Perf," I said, gushing bubbles, puppies, and rainbows. The act was officially on. "Oh, Ry, that shirt is not going to work."
"Oh, sorry..." he trailed off, running like a scared puppy all the way back into his bedroom. Yes, the act was most certainly on.
I walked, head held high, from the bathroom to my closet, where my stylist was waiting.
"Pierre," I spewed, rushing forward to give him a kiss on each cheek.
"Sharpay," he replied in a very sensible way. He held up an array of outfits, but only one popped out, mostly because it didn't look incredulously uncomfortable. I chose a black baby doll dress with a pair of red tights and a pair of velvet black ballet flats. Nothing was too matchy-matchy.
"Ry!" I called, but Ryan was already standing in the door way, grasping the outfit which Pierre had matched with mine.
Only a moments notice later, Ryan emerged looking stunning.
"Fabulous," I stated, softly tugging Ryan by the arm, down the stairs. He casually grabbed both of our bags, handing me mine in a very servant-esc way. We chatted about today's activities; play practice, dress fitting with Pierre (for me, of course), mother's rehearsal dinner with her third husband this year, food tasting. The day was packed.
We pulled up to East High; I tossed my keys into my bag, squared my shoulders, and prepared my part of the deal for action. Head held high, I strutted through the wide open doors, alone. Ryan had probably ditched me when he caught sight of his new found girlfriend; Gabriella Montez. Troy Bolton appeared at my side; alone, as I had hoped.
"Good day, m'lady," He bowed.
"Ello govna'," I said, enthusiastically playing along. He stopped walking, as did I, and he turned to me.
"So, listen, you, me, Ry, and Gabriella should go do something tonight," he offered. I knew he was merely being friendly, but my heart involuntarily skipped a beat.
"I'd love to, we'd love to," and then I remembered all of our plans. Mr. Four could wait, right? No, of course not. Mother wouldn't have it, nor would Ryan. "But we promised to do some stuff for mom and mystery husband number four tonight."
"Another one?" Troy raised his eyebrows at me.
"Another one." I confirmed.
"That's okay, I'll tag along. Just make sure Ryan brings Gabriella" He said. Did I forget to mention that Troy is head-over-heels for my twin brother's girlfriend? That might be a little important.
"That'd be great..." I trailed off. A few of Troy's buddies had joined our conversation, "Bolton."
Troy chuckled softly to himself, leaning in to whisper something in my ear.
"You know, Sharpay, one day you'll slip up and the whole world will see you for what you really are; nice."
And with that, he left me, running like a madman down the hallway with his friends and his teammates.
"I will not!" I yelled after him, but he only glanced back, an obviously pleased smirk plastered to his face.
Boys are stupid. Troy is stupid. Love is stupid. It's stupid that I'm completely in love with him, and he doesn't even know it.