A/N: This is based on what happens in the stage version of HSM, since I've never seen the movie. I thought I should throw that in because someone told me Sharpay doesn't get a cake in the face from Zeke in the movie, just in the play. Also, this is disregarding HSM2 and how awful Sharpay is then, because I really like the idea that she's not evil, she's just misunderstood. Anyway, enjoy!

I'm sick.

Not even like dramatically sick, either. Just icky sick. A really bad cold. My throat hurts, my voice sounds like a foghorn, my nose is dripping like crazy, and my head is killing me. But it isn't life-threatening or anything, so I can't even get any goddamned sympathy from my stupid brother. Well, OK, he was sympathetic. But then he left me all alone on the couch with a box of tissues and a Disney movie and went to go meet Martha for dinner and a movie. So here I am, abandoned, miserable, and dying of the common cold.

For the first time since the eighth grade, I, Sharpay Evans, am alone on a Saturday night.

Well, that's not entirely true. There is a guy here. His name is Aladdin. He's two-dimensional and talking to a character who's bright blue and I think is voiced by Robin Williams on crack. So he doesn't count. But when you're feeling as pathetic as I am, anything is better than nothing. Hey, I'm desperate here.

Yeah, I have a boyfriend. Sort of. That would be Zeke. We kind of ended up together after that bitch Gabriella stole my role in the school musical, but we haven't exactly gone out. I really like him, though, and I'm afraid he doesn't like me as much. Not that I'll admit that to anyone, of course. I'm still really mad at Troy for making a fool out of me, and Ryan for betraying me, and, of course, Gabriella, for stealing the guy and the role. I have to keep up my reputation, you know. But Zeke is really a great guy, and he probably thinks I'm a bitch now, like everyone else does.

But the truth is, I didn't want to hurt Gabriella or Troy or anyone by the lies I told Ms. Darbus. I just wanted the part. Theatre is really all I'm good at, you know? I'm not even that great a dancer – that's Ryan's area of expertise. I'm not that great at math, although I'm decent at English, and I can't stand science. I don't play any sports – I don't like to get dirty or sweaty – and I'm not any good at computers, which really only leaves theatre. Who could blame me for wanting to win at the only thing I'm good at? Gabriella's good at math and science, Troy is good at basketball, even Ryan is good at baseball – and he's a pretty good writer. They're all so multitalented, and here I am, alone and miserable on the couch, singing along with Princess Jasmine and wondering why it is that Aladdin doesn't have either nipples or a belly button.

Which brings me back to the present, and my situation – I'm alone on a Saturday night. Whoopdy-shit.

Just then, someone knocks at the front door. "Daddy, can you get it?" I croak, before I remember that he and Mother are out for a celebratory dinner – the expansions on the country club were completed today. So I'm really alone.

What if it's a kidnapper? Or a rapist? Should I answer the door? What if it's a murderer? Or –

Zeke?

I open the door, clutching my fuzzy blanket around my pajamas. "Zeke, what are you doing here?"

He smiles nervously. "I heard you were sick, and I wanted to make sure you were okay." He glances sheepishly down at the pot he's carrying. "I, uh, made you some chicken soup."

"Soup? For me?" I can't believe it! He was thinking of me! "Well, I don't want to infect you, but you can come in if you're not afraid of catching my cold…"

"Sure." He looks relieved – what, did he think I was going to turn him away? "I thought you might be annoyed, considering what happened the last time I tried cooking you something." Right. The cake. In my face. I'm still trying not to think about that.

"Well, that wasn't your fault, really," I assure him, stepping aside so he can come in. "Gabriella bumped into you."

"I still felt bad, though." He blushes. "I thought you might hate me forever."

"I'm really not as much of a bitch as everyone thinks I am, you know." I blow my nose unhappily.

"I don't think you're a bitch at all." Zeke looks confused. "Would I be here if I thought you were a bitch?"

"I don't know." I lead him to the kitchen so he can put down the pot. "If I were you, I would think I was a bitch." I shake my head. "I don't have a very good opinion of myself at the moment."

"Sharpay…" He puts the pot down on the stove and leans against the counter. "I know why you did what you did. Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to do, but you did it, it's over, nobody can change that. I don't care what you've done in the past – you've been nice to me lately, and that's all I care about."

"I'm sorry I ignored you before." I look down. "I was so preoccupied by Troy that I sort of… I don't know… didn't notice anyone else."

"That's okay." He shrugs. "Most people who meet Troy don't notice anyone else – and if they do, it's just Chad. Me and the rest of the team are used to being in their shadows."

"The rest of the team and I," I correct automatically. Oh my god, did I just do that? "I mean – "

"Hey, you care about grammar? Since when?" He squints at me. I'm sure I'm blushing. "I thought you didn't care about school stuff at all."

"Yeah, well, Ryan sort of writes a lot, and he's decent, but his grammar is awful, and I've gotten pretty good at fixing it for him." I blow my nose again, hoping I don't sound like too much of an idiot. "I guess that's pretty nerdy, huh?"

"No, not at all!" He grins. "I'm awful at that stuff, but now that I think of it, I've never heard you mess up at grammar – like, ever."

"Yeah, I guess…" I smile a little. "You know, I guess I am good at it."

Zeke grins at me. "I'm not surprised. I knew you were smart."

"Smart? Me?" There's a laugh. "I'm a dumb blonde, remember?"

"No, you're not!" He looks surprised. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Well, I never get very good grades…"

"And how much time do you spend on schoolwork?"

"Not much, I guess…" I shrug. "I'm usually working on my performance. Or my appearance."

"There's your answer." He raises an eyebrow, daring me to disagree. "Maybe this will be an opportunity for you. Branch out, you know? Don't stick to the status quo." I laugh at that. "Seriously, though. Everyone else can do more than one thing – why not you, too?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Do I have to hang out with Taylor McKessie?"

"Oh, be nice, she's not that bad."

"Fine, but I won't dress like her!"

"Nobody said you had to."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Sharpay?"

"Yes, Zeke?"

"Would you like to try some of this wonderful chicken soup?"

"Why, yes, I believe I would."

"Would you like to invite me to have some, too?"

"I would, now that you mention it. And as long as you're here, would you like to join me in watching our poor, nipple-less, belly-button-less Disney hero Aladdin finish his adventure?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

So that's how I finish my Saturday night. With the guy who thinks I'm smart, funny, and talented. He's three-dimensional and has nothing to do with anyone blue, Robin Williams-resembling, or on crack. He even makes me chicken soup when I'm sick.