In general, Gabriella Montez was a happy person, bubbly, friendly, vivacious, the works, but on this one particular morning, she was in the mother of bad moods. As soon as the alarm went off, she began groaning, slamming the snooze button repeatedly, until her mother practically dragged her from under the covers and hauled her into the bathroom to get dressed. After she had pulled on her jeans and shirt, she snagged her coat and purse and headed out the door balancing a traveler's mug of coffee and a yellow file that had been sent to her in the mail. She raced down the sidewalk, walking quickly and uttering salutations to her various neighbors who were mowing their lawns or pruning their hedges. After minutes of hurried walking, she found herself in front of the Helping Hands Center of Albuquerque. She seated herself on a bench, sipping her drink and ripping open the file in her hand. Gabriella had been volunteering at the Center for three years now, and she helped children or peers to work out their problems in the type of environment that was considered more comfortable for adolescents, one with video games to bond over, and snack bars to hang out in. The whole philosophy of the Center was to eliminate the awkwardness of being sent to older counselors, people who teens had less of a chance of relating to. Gabriella was a junior counselor, and was more of a companion to her charge then anything, and she stayed with them until the Center felt that their problems had been overcome. Her latest success story was that of Hannah, a fourteen year old who was previously abused and living in foster care. Gabriella had helped Hannah concur her fear of being around and meeting new people, and she received praise from Ann, the manager of the Center, for her good work. Now, she had a new mission, and as she pulled out the file she examined the name: Troy Bolton. She frowned, the name sounded familiar, she took a sip of her coffee, and missed. She sighed, noticing the brown stain blooming on her white shirt. She muttered incoherently and zipped her jacket up, tossing her empty mug into her tote and heading for the door of the Center.
Gabriella entered the white washed halls of the teen floor. She checked in on the floor desk, and continued down the hall, her slippers slapping against the linoleum. She fingered her heart shaped locket absentmindedly as she slipped open the file once more. She glanced at the room number: 216, and checked the doors she was passing. The rooms were quite small, equipped with a TV, a stereo, a couple of games, things for the counselors and their peers to bond with. The bigger things, like game systems were in the main room on the floor, as well as the vending machines and snack bars, the place where most of the kids hung out. Gabriella checked her watch, she was extremely late, sighing she quickened her pace, only to fall flat on her face as she tripped on her feet. Groaning she sat up, this was not her day, she passed a hand over her face and glanced at the door numbers, finally she was there. She quickly collected herself and entered the room, glancing around, until her gaze rested on a guy. His back was facing her, and he had a game in his hand, a baby type pinball game, that didn't look interesting at all. However, he seemed to find it way more intriguing then Gabriella, as he didn't even bother to turn around. Gabriella cleared her throat, once, twice, three times. With an exasperated sigh, she stomped over to the corner where he was, and she immediately snatched the game from his hands.
"Look," she snapped hands on her hips, eyes flashing, "I've been having a terrible day, and I don't need you hassling me to make it worse! I am doing you a favor so you do not ignore me when I'm sacrificing my time here!" She tossed the game onto a table and turned toward the boy, glaring at his face. He seemed a bit taken aback, his brilliant blue eyes wide with shock, but he quickly gained control. He paused for a second, and Gabriella instantly felt terrible for yelling at him, she was supposed to be trained to keep her cool in all sorts of situations. As she moved to apologize, the boy spoke up first.
"First of all," he started his eyes darkening a shade, "what makes you think I want your help? Second, I'd rather be anywhere but here. And third, the only way this would get better, is if I didn't have some bratty miss know it all up in my face." Gabriella gasped, her eyes immediately flashing, before she collected herself and opened her mouth to speak. "Save it." He said, in a bored tone, "I really could care less, so just go, and switch the pairing around or something, I don't want to deal with a snob every single week." He waved her off as she moved to speak once more, so she quickly spun on her heel and marched out. Troy watched her go with a hard look on his face, then his features became unreadable, and he sank back in his chair, reaching for his game once more.