DIsclaimer:I don't own Spectacular! or HSM.
Sorry if Royce is a little off. But I've only seen Spectacular! once. It was... interesting ;O; I just thought the idea of a crossover between these two would be perfect.
---------
I am finally getting over the fact that Tammi totally ditched me.
Swear to Patti LuPone (and may she scream, yell, and stop the music if I am lying). Sure, she was the love of my teenage life. Sure, hearing the words Ta-Da still makes me twitch. Sure, it took a while to get over her, seeing as in two days and seventeen hours it will be the two month anniversary of her treachery. That's fine. It's cool. Because I've moved past her.
In fact, I've already got a gig. Alone. In meaning without Tammi.
After I told my dad about my issues with Tammi and the group, he thought of good old Uncle Quinton and this darling place- a country club- he's a member of in New Mexico. Turns out they have an annual talent show with a turnout that's nothing to sneeze at. I heard all this news while I was bawling- er, tearing up, so it was like sand through a sieve.
But now, I can embrace this challenge. As a matter of fact, I signed up yesterday. I was proud of my gumption as I walked through the doors (accompanied by Uncle Quinton), head held up high, shoulders back, ready to face the world.
Without Tammi.
***
"Quinton! How are you?" a balding man with glasses said as he approached my uncle. He put out his hand in a manner that reminded me of a robot. His suit had no wrinkles and his face was tight and business-like.
"I'm doing great, Thomas," my uncle replied brightly. "How about yourself?"
"Splendid, splendid. What are you here for today? Who's this strapping fellow?"
"Oh, hello, sir," I said, always one to push politeness over being introduced by a relative. "My name is Royce Du Lac, I'm Quinton's nephew." I warmly extended my hand to counter his stiff motions. He gazed at it for a split moment with a look that almost suggested he wasn't planning on shaking it.
"Very nice to meet you, Royce," he replied. His eyes traveled from my hand to my face and back again. "My name is Thomas Fulton." He finally gripped my hand and shook it twice. Not one time, not three and a half times, but a curt and cut twice.
"He'd like to sign up for this year's talent show," Uncle Quinton explained.
Fulton pointed his index finger to the ceiling and smirked just the tiniest bit. "Ahh, yes. What is it you do, Royce?"
"Well, I'm seasoned in show choir, but I'm looking to put on a fantastic one man routine."
"I wish you well," he said tentatively. "Now, let me find the new sign up list. I had to take it down per Miss Evans's request, she found a problem with the spacing of the lines, seems there wasn't enough space for her signature-"
"Oh, Sharpay, lovely girl," Uncle Quinton said. I was a bit worried, the simple mention of this girl's name struck intimidation into my heart. Something told me she was a force to be reckoned with. "I remember one time, her mother..."
As the anecdote progressed with no intention of telling me more about the actual girl, I found myself wandering towards a luxurious looking niche lined with trophies- dazzling trophies. They had attractive stars perched on the top that caught the light and glittered. I stood admiring them as the adults conversed on, even though I knew Fulton had taken out the sign up sheet already.
Without a thorough thought, I extended my arm and touched the base of the closest trophy. I was feeling the indent of the words that I knew I'd see on at least one of these- Sharpay Evans- when I heard a voice behind me that stuck out beyond the drone of the grown-up chatter.
"Hey."
I whipped around and saw a boy around my age wearing an appealing, blue plaid hat and nearly-matching pants.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I apologized at once as he drew nearer. He didn't look like the violent type, but I felt it was always good to get a word in before the unthinkable happened (looks are deceiving, I had learned). "Are these- are these your trophies?" I knew he wasn't much of a Sharpay, but I had to stall somehow.
To my surprise, he chuckled. It was a bittersweet sort of chuckle that started out bright and then trailed off. "Nah, those trophies belong to my sister, Sharpay. Mine's at home."
Two things set off alarm bells in my head: first, he was the brother of the esteemed Sharpay. Second, he had a trophy. Or two. Or perhaps (I imagined this with a gulp), he had earned an entire wall like his sister, and was simply too humble to display them like this.
The stranger noticed my apprehension to answer and smiled. "My name is Ryan Evans. I'm assuming you've signed up for the talent show?"
"Well, I'm in the process." I gave a nod to my Uncle and Fulton, still reminiscing about a memory that included Jell-O and a colonoscopy. I grimaced a bit. "The name is Royce, by the way, Royce Du Lac."
He extended my hand and I shook it. Unlike Fulton's, his shake was warm and inviting. "Fulton enjoys a good, long conversation."
I smirked. "I figured as-"
"RYAN!" screamed a shrill voice from behind my new acquaintance. The sound's frequency caused him to curl his lips and close his eyes tight.
"What's up, Shar?" he said, not turning to face her, his eyes still closed.
The girl scurried up behind him, her platform sandals skish skish skishing as she shuffled in an attempt to run faster.
"Who's your new friend?" she asked at once, gasping for breath after spitting out the statement.
"Sharpay, this is Royce. He's signing up for the talent show. Royce, this is my twin sister, Sharpay," he said formally. I gulped a bit. This was Sharpay. This was the hot shot, big shot, sure shot with all of the trophies and influence at Lava Springs.
And she was totally checking me out.
I saw her eyes wander up and down my figure as she smirked and pouted. "Nice to meet you, Royce. I'm sure you'll be suitable competition." I could tell she was just throwing out empty flirts.
"Thank you," I said, trying to remain civil as she flipped her hair and puffed her lips in and out, in and out, in and-
"If it isn't the Evans twins!" Uncle Quinton exclaimed. I wondered how long he had been watching Sharpay hit on me.
"Oh, hello, Quinton!" Sharpay said cordially, waving from afar.
"Nice to see you again," said Ryan, smiling a warm smile that brightened up my insides.
"Did my nephew, Royce, tell you? He's signing up for the talent competition."
"He mentioned it," Ryan said, looking over at me. "I didn't know he was your nephew."
"Now I'm even more intrigued by you," Sharpay said with a low giggle. Was that code for, now you're sexier than ever, clothes off right now? Dirty thoughts entered my mind. I tried hard to think of something, anything, that would take away these thoughts- usually I thought of kittens and my old stuffed animal from my childhood, Dilly Piddles the Rhinoceros. But all I could imagine was me and Sharpay, stacked on top of one another, doing bad things amongst the trophies she'd won. Maybe Ryan would join in, I thought.
I could have cried.
What was I thinking? This helpless haze I was in was obviously being influenced by this girl- she was thinking these dirty thoughts for me. That was it. It was the amazingly seductive, tantalizingly gorgeous, telepathic devil girl. Not me!
I could have sworn I saw her lick her lips as I turned to face my Uncle and Fulton. "Can I sign up?" I muttered nervously.
"Yes, yes, here's the sheet," Fulton said, pushing the clipboard that held the sheet in place to the edge of the counter.
I hurried over to it and used the attached pen to sign my name, age, talent and contact information.
"Thank you," I said obligatorily, stiffly shaking Fulton's hand once more.
"Well, it was nice seeing you all again," said Uncle Quinton with a little sigh.
Fulton said his goodbyes as Sharpay leaned over to me. "Hope to see you again soon. Before the talent show." She simpered and I would have bet money that she winked at me in that very moment. I felt a sudden movement in my pocket, and I was really hoping it wasn't what I thought it was.
"Nice to meet you, Royce," Ryan muttered, obviously embarrassed by his sister's flirtatious behavior. We exchanged formalities and with that, we left.
"You see?" Uncle Quinton said as we got into his car to leave. He put the keys in the ignition and it started up with a smooth, luxurious sound. "This is what you need. It'll get you back up on your feet in no time. Your dad is going to be so proud."
I sighed and said nothing. After buckling up, I shuffled through my pockets for my phone. But instead I pulled out a tiny slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it.
Sharpay's phone number.
"You know what," I said. I tried my best not to grin too widely. "You're right, Uncle Quinton. This is what I need."
That's the moment I truly knew I would be alright without Tammi. Not because I had a gig. Not even the fact I had Sharpay's number. I just knew that if Tammi found out I was moving on, she'd be angry as hell.
And that thought gave me hope.