Troy Bolton crawled on his hands and knees through the trench. He could see the crouched form of Ryan Evans hiding behind a tree. Stuffing his gun back into its holster, Troy slowly inched up behind the blonde. With a quick flare, he whipped out the gun, jumped in front of the surprised Ryan and pulled the trigger with the barrel right next to guy's chest. The dancer crumpled to the ground.

"Hey!" Chad Danforth yelled, and ran up to Troy after shooting him in the back, while Ryan lay on the ground moaning in pain. "No bunking, you moron!" The jock glared at him, and lightly kicked the junior on the ground.

"He'll be fine-won't you, Ryan?"

"I am going to kill you" was the soft response, and Troy fell to the ground as Ryan fired a paintball at the back of his knee. "That freaking hurt! Did you have that thing on the highest firing level?!"

"Dammit, it's just a game!" Troy grumbled. "No need to get violent!"

"Oh yeah, paintball isn't violent at all" Ryan rolled his eyes, sat up, and gingerly touched his chest. He winced. "It's gonna leave a bruise"

"Come on, you big baby; it couldn't have hurt that much" Troy said as he stood up.

"Yah," Ryan said as he pushed himself to his feet, "it just felt like this!" Chad burst out laughing as Troy stumbled back several paces.

"Nicely aimed kick, Ryan; right in the chest!"

"Yeah, very nice" Troy grunted. "If I had known your leg was that strong-and flexible-I wouldn't have said that so close to you. If you had punched me in the chest, I wouldn't have moved an inch"

"Uhuh…" Chad said sarcastically. "You just keep telling yourself that, Troy" In the middle of a loud snicker, Ryan let out a shout, and put his hand to the back of his head. When he pulled it away, paint dripped thickly onto the ground.

"What happened to the paintball game?" Jason yelled as Chad and Ryan tried to nail him with their guns.

"Bolton decided to bunk Evans, so we were having a nice little 'chat'" Chad shot Troy in the back again for good measure. The basketball player easily ducked when Troy's heavy gun was chucked at his head.

The four guys continued their paintball game until Ryan was able to walk right in front of Troy without the singer seeing anything (Ryan was terrible at stealth, so that was main giveaway that it was getting late and the fact that his shining beacon of hair was no where to be seen). All of them clambered, but carefully clambered, into Russell Evans' car; the four of them were staying with Ryan's rich uncle Russ for the weekend; a guy's weekend out. Taylor's older sister was taking the girls someplace too, so they wouldn't miss anything. The boys had all agreed, though, that a weekend out in the country was far more interesting than the local spa. Uncle Russ had laid out towels on the seats so they wouldn't dirty up his truck with paint. Which was rather odd, because the truck was already so muddy and beaten up that you would never notice paint stains.

"Shar is going to kill me…" Ryan grumbled, trying to get as much paint out of his hair as humanly possible.

"You can take a shower when we get there" Chad grinned. He loved to tease Ryan about his sometimes fussy habits. Half an hour later, Ryan ran outside to join them on the horse pasture, his damp hair sparkling clean once more.

"Now that Goldilocks has arrived," Uncle Russell announced, making the other guys snicker, "I can point out to you the best horses in the county" Ryan groaned.

"Uncle Russ, none of us want to be bored to death with horse talk"

"Shut your mouth; they asked me to tell them about it" Ryan raised his eyebrow at Troy, who pointed his eyes towards Jason. Jason listened, enraptured, to the man's talk while the other three zoned out, staring out into the almost-vanished sun. Suddenly, Ryan's head shot up.

"Uncle-"

"Hush boy, can't you see I'm trying to talk here?" The dancer prudently ignored him, and pointed to a figure racing across the pasture.

"Who's that?" Uncle Russell followed his finger, and a smile suddenly broke out across his face.

"That, my boy, is Alexander Frost. Finest horse trainer in the west. I think he's riding his black stallion, Arrow" Ryan didn't speak again, but his eyes remained glued to the silhouette of the horse and rider galloping gracefully across the soft grass. Chad had to smack him across the back of his head when they went inside. Otherwise, Ryan might have stayed in that same dazed position the whole night.

"Why were you so zonked tonight?" Jason whispered from him mattress on the floor after the lights were turned off.

"I dunno…I guess I was just surprised that a horse could look that...that…I dunno, that 'noble', or whatever. I've never really noticed stuff like that before" Though Ryan didn't see it, Troy rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Ryan—go to sleep, and stop bein' so weird. It's just a horse; horsies and ponies are for girls"

"I wasn't exactly thinking about ponies, Troy. More along the lines of stallions"

"Whatever"

"It's not whatever, you loser-"

"CHILDREN, SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!" Surprisingly, it was Chad Danforth who made that proclamation, not Russell Evans.



Jason, Chad, and Troy woke up with their mouths watering, for a wonderful scent was filling the entire house.

"PANCAKES!" Jason whooped, and they darted into the kitchen. Ryan turned around, pan in hand, in the process of flipping the brown pancakes.

"Don't let my uncle hear you say that," he said, laughing.

"What the heck not? Does he not like pancakes or something? Hey, homemade syrup!" Chad cried suddenly, hopping over to the wooden table. "You weren't kidding; your uncle is rustic"

"I told you. And that's not the half of it. The reason why you can't yell 'pancakes' in this place is because the technical term for them is-"

"Flapjacks," Uncle Russ yelled out in delight, emerging from the upstairs, "my favorite! It's amazing, Ryan; you finally did something right" He winked at the other three boys, who were chortling again. Ryan ignored them and sat down next to his uncle.

"Uncle Russ, I was wondering if you could teach me how to ride a horse" Awkward and stunned silence filled the kitchen. The three juniors stared at Ryan as if he had lost his mind.

"Teach you how to ride a horse?" Uncle Russell stuttered. "Have you gone crazy?"

"I don't think it's such an odd thing to ask"

"From a dancing, singing, urban pansy it is!" the uncle yelled. Chad snorted loudly into his pancakes. "Why on earth do you want to learn how to ride?"

"I…" Ryan looked around, embarrassed at their bewildered faces, "I just want to learn, that's all. To try something new"

"All right, buddy boy," the middle-aged man sighed, "but I'll have Alexander teach you instead of me, I am not that fond of horses. As for you other boys, what do you want to do? Catch butterflies, I suppose"

"We were wondering if we could look into your gun cabinet, and maybe go hunting later" Jason piped up.

"Sounds good—but you boys will be practicing on fences and cans before I let you after any squirrels, you hear?" They nodded. "Ryan, are you going to join up with us later?"

"Maybe" Without eating any breakfast, the blonde hurried over to the barn to find Alexander Frost. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Uncle Russell dug into his 'flapjacks' once more.

Later in the day, the four of them trooped down to the woods on Mr. Evan's property. The fastest way there was through the horse pasture, so the teenagers ran down to the fence to briefly watch Ryan before they continued. They were not prepared for the sight that would meet their eyes. Ryan's dappled horse, Chance, was trotting at a fast pace around the perimeter. Mr. Frost stood in the middle, keeping a protective eye on the two. Ryan pulled him to a stop by where Troy, Chad, and Jason were resting.

"I declare, Ryan," Uncle Russell marveled, "you seem to be quite the horseman. And this is your first time on a horse?"

"Very first," Ryan said, leaning back in the saddle, brushing his sweaty hair of his eyes.

"And you're riding by yourself already?"

"It really isn't that hard, Uncle Russ"

"Must not be if you can catch on to it that fast" Ryan glared at him as his three friends' barely concealed big grins. He kicked Chance in the flanks, and galloped back to where Mr. Frost was patiently waiting.

"Imagine, Ryan getting into something as physical as horses" Chad laughed. "I never would have thought he'd ever become athletic"

"But still, it isn't football; the horse does all the work" Troy pointed out. Uncle Russell shushed them.

"You'll disturb all the squirrels!" He scolded, and the boys remained silent until they turned in for the evening. To the surprise of no one, Ryan was still out in the horse pasture. This time, though, he was riding in what seemed a very weird way; he wasn't sitting down on the horse, but was half-standing in the saddle, hunched over the horse. The horse trainer was giving him tips on his form, and making rapid back and forth motions. Chad laughed aloud when Ryan fell off at his 5th try to ride in this style.

"Uncle Russell," Troy asked (he had been told to call the man this), "what exactly are they doing?"

"Well young man, evidently Alexander has found some sort of talent in Ryan and is trying to teach him to ride a horse race-style"

"Race-style?"

"You see the way that my nephew's rump isn't touching the horse? That's the proper way to ride a racing horse" It was Jason's turn to laugh.

"Surely Mr. Frost isn't thinking of Ryan going into the races? I mean, try to imagine Ryan Evans getting serious about horse races! Not the betting, you understand, but the actual race. A sport" Troy grinned.

"It does kind of seem a remote hope" Uncle Russell nodded in agreement, and then whistled loudly. The two heads turned around in response.

"Dinner's in fifteen minutes!" Alexander gave him the thumbs up, and then had Ryan try the gallop again. Thirty minutes later, and exhausted drama king and horse trainer came inside the kitchen, where four hunters were busy cleaning dishes.

"I told you, fifteen minutes" Uncle Russ said, shaking a sudsy finger at them. Ryan bobbed his head sleepily, and plodded off to the bathroom to change into his pajamas.

"Honestly, Alex, how did the kid do?" the tall man asked in a hushed voice as soon as Ryan was out of hearing range. Troy, Chad, and Jason perked up their ears.

"Honestly—he did amazingly well for a beginner. I've never seen someone so comfortable on a horse the first time" Uncle Russell tried for several minutes to say something, but kept on stopping himself.

"…You know you don't have to lie just because he's my nephew"

"Man, I know! I'm telling you truthfully, Ryan has talent! But," Troy leaned in closer to hear, "there is something that prevents him being a terrific horseman"

"And what's that?" Chad said out of turn. Mr. Frost blinked, as if he had not been aware the juniors were there, but he answered the question anyways.

"He has all the wrong build!"

"Huh?" Jason asked after a few awkward seconds, speaking for all of them.

"There are a lot of requirements for being a jockey; small and light is one of them"

"But Ryan's skinny as a pole, and pretty dang short!" Chad pointed out.

"The frame is all off though! His body just isn't made for it. The smaller the jockey and stronger the horse, the more chance they have of winning. I just don't think Ryan would be up for a disappointment like that. Have you guys ever heard about normal-sized jockeys?" Obviously, everyone shook their heads. "They practically have to starve themselves to be the right weight! And I don't think you exactly want the kid to do that, do ya?"

"And as if Ryan's diet isn't weird enough" Troy whispered to Chad, who was the only guy he had told his friend's eating problem to. Chad gave a small nod to show that he had heard Troy, but kept his eyes fixed on Mr. Evans and Mr. Frost.

"Then stay away from Ryan, Alex!" the man roared suddenly, making the three jocks and jockey jump. "I don't want that kid getting his hopes up about it; if I know my brother, and I know what kind of kids he has, then there is a very small chance of stopping any Evans teenager of getting what they're after" Jason choked on a laugh, knowing how true that statement to be. Troy and Chad had difficulty keeping straight faces as well.

According to all three of Chad's digital watches, it was exactly 11:59 pm in the morning when Troy's cell phone vibrated. Nothing is more uncomfortable than having the cell in your pants pocket vibrate when you are in the middle of very weird dreams. After Troy's heart resumed normal speed and his heart moved back down into its appropriate place, he pulled out the vibrating object. The caller ID read "Shar". Groaning, he flipped it open.

"Hey Shar"

"Troy Bolton, why did you not call me today? You promised that you would call me every single day that you were gone and tell me every little detail about it"

"Sharpay, it's almost midnight. Can't you call back tomorrow?"

"It'll be tomorrow in one minute anyways. You have that much time to tell me all about what you did today" Troy, wisely afraid of what would happen to him if he didn't do as he was told, so he hurriedly gushed about Ryan making pancakes, the inspection of the guns, the hunting trip, how terribly Jason was with a gun, and then, as an afterthought, the talk between her Uncle Russell and the horse trainer about Ryan's chances of being a jockey.

"Ryan was good as horseback riding?" Sharpay said in surprise, making it painfully clear this was the only part of the conversation she had heard. "Then why on earth can't he be a jockey like that Frosty guy?" At this point in the phone call, a half-dead teenager (Troy couldn't see who) threw a hard book at Troy's head, so he walked out to the front porch.

"Evidently because he 'has the wrong build', or however Mr. Frost phrased it," Troy grumbled, running a hand tiredly through his hair. "Does it really matter, Sharpay?"

"So you mean he would be at a disadvantage?" Sharpay said, ignoring the question. An awkward silence on Troy's end. "Then why is he doing it at all?" She exploded, showing off her talent of huge mood swings. "I mean, he already is a triple-threat; he doesn't need anything else! He has me! What else does he want?"

"Shar, I can't read the guy's mind! He is probably riding because he wants to, not because he needs to" Snarpay didn't answer back immediately, which meant that the drama queen was thinking out this impossible possibility.

"How I am related to that loser, anyways?" she finally snapped, and a click sounded the end of the midnight chat. Laughing softly, Troy closed his phone. He wasn't hurt; his girlfriend always had to have the say in things, and it was one of the traits he liked about her. She was so determined to have everything the way she pictured it; it was kind of amusing. Or cute at least.

Troy's hand moved to his pocket, but on a second thought he decided it would be safer in his backpack. To his surprise, the way back to the living room was lit by a slit of light. The light was crawling from under the bathroom door, and, with a quick glance around the mattresses, the basketball captain concluded that it was being occupied by Ryan.

But, as seemed to be the case with this strange dancer, no sounds were floating from the room—other than footsteps every now and again. Troy placed his ear against the door. Now there was nothing. He knocked softly on it, fearing another book would find a pathway to his head.

"You okay in there, Ryan?" he asked. No answer. Troy thought hard. It would be incredibly embarrassing to go in there and find…and his own friend…he knocked again. Still no answer. Troy tried the handle, praying it wouldn't work and give him an excuse to not have to do this. To his disappointment, it was unlocked. Steeling himself, Troy nudged open the door and peeked in.

To his EMENSE relief, Ryan was sitting cross-legged on a bench facing the mirror, staring at his thin reflection. He was also shirtless. He didn't acknowledge his friends presence with any look, but merely spoke.

"Why do I have to be like this?" Troy sat down on the cold tile next to him, slightly surprised to find something as modern as tile in the uncle's house.

"Like what?"

"Like…this" The blonde gestured at his reflection in the mirror. "So short, so skinny…so damn heavy"

"Ryan, you're like the lightest guy in the entire school" Ryan shook his head.

"I weigh 130 pounds" Troy's eyes bulged. He weighed almost 50 pounds more! "That artist at school, Chase Green? He is 80 pounds"

"Yah, but Chase is a scrawny, puny guy. That weight is right for his size. You are underweight for your build, Ryan"

"And what exactly is my build, Troy?" Ryan asked, finally turning to his athletic friend. "Since you and everybody else in this house seems to know, please tell me"

"You may be rather short, but you most certainly aren't short enough to be in the 80-pound-range"

"I don't plan on being 80 pounds. My goal is 115" Troy shook his head.

"Ryan, Gabs and Shar are already fussing enough as is it about your eating, which was actually getting the way it should be! Being 115 pounds just isn't healthy!" The crystal-blue eyes rolled. Dark blue ones glared back at him.

"You don't have to be the perfect weight to be a great jockey"

"I can…" Ryan looked back at his reflection, putting a hand to the six-pack that was growing, "but I have the best chances with it" Troy sighed, and silence resumed again.

Was he going to go to bed anytime soon? No, he wasn't planning to. Would he mind turning down the light some so Troy could get some sleep? He would do so. Troy told him to have a goodnight, or rather morning, and, standing up, walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Ryan turned his gaze back to the cracked mirror.

"No," he mumbled, looking at himself sideways now, "it really isn't a good night"