I have ZashleySilver to thank for this. Her Jimmie/Sharpay story: Chronicles, was what inspired me. :D Thank you!
This'll probably turn out to be a 3-shot. I wanted it to be a oneshot, but I couldn't stand not posting. And actually, though, I think it might be better this way. It'll make it go slower and feel more realistic, I guess. ;)
Hope you like it! (If you want a soundtrack, just listen to some SafetySuit. Life Left to Go, Something I Said, Apology, and Find a Way :D)
-sxg
X-Ray Vision
Part One
Sharpay Amanda Evans was diagnosed with clinical depression 10 months ago.
Sweetheart, said her mother in sympathy, where is all this anger and sadness coming from? Wordless, Sharpay reached into her bag and pulled out 15 handwritten, thoughtful letters of hate and shoved them at her. The other customers in the shrink office watched suspiciously as Derby Evans gasped at the pointed expressions. Sharpay rolled her eyes. It's not like of any of it wasn't true. It was all honest, down to the nitty-gritty.
Arrogantly, Derby ripped them in half and threw them in the trash can across the room. I will not tolerate that maltreatment. Make sure you bring that up during your session.
Sharpay bit her nails. Yeah, sure she would.
10 months ago Sharpay died her blonde curls a deep dark brown. And she permanently straightened them.
-x-x-x-
Jimmie Zara started attending East High 2 years ago.
The minute he walked into the building, he spotted the most beautiful girl in the whole world. She was spunky, covered in pink, and her blonde curls bounced with each step. But what struck him most about the girl was the way he could see straight through her. He already knew her story. He turned to his best friend, Donny.
"Who's the chica in pink over there?" He jabbed him in the ribs three times. Donny rolled his eyes.
"How should I know? I've been here just as long as you. Which has now been," he glanced at his wrist watch, "about 2 minutes."
"Should I ask her out?"
"Bro, you're crazy. You don't even know her."
Jimmie turned to him, staring in his eyes seriously.
"No, Donny, I do." He walked off with confidence.
"Yep, he's crazy," Donny muttered to himself.
Jimmie tried to push past the crowd. He ducked and shoved and squeezed, but it seemed the closer he got the deeper the hallway was congested. Were they all gawking around because of her? For her?
-x-x-x-
2 years later, Sharpay walked the same hallway—but with a completely different approach.
It was as if she was trudging through murky waters, wading into an area infested with hate. All because of her. For her. The only thing that remained the same as last year was a young boy, at the age of 16, watching her once again.
Sharpay didn't notice him then, when she was at the top of her game. And she definitely didn't notice him now that she felt like the scum on the bottom of his sneakers. But just like last time, Jimmie Zara knew exactly what was going through her mind.
After reaching her locker, with the same plastered expression of lassitude and apathy, she sighed deeply and yanked it open. She saw the mini-mirror inside it and glared in disdain. Her face was pale, her eyes lackluster and dirty brown. Even her hair was flat and lifeless. She felt lifeless. And the worst part is, thought Sharpay, I cause my own misery. Because I'm a horrible, self-pitying person. And that's all there is to me. Awful, awful things.
"Hey Evans!" called a voice.
Sharpay rolled her eyes. Here we go again. She spun around, a smug look on her face. Chad Danforth stood on the other side of the hall, his head cocked arrogantly. She just stared, waiting for his latest ridiculously retarded ridicule.
"Something you feel like saying, Danforth? Or is this just your way of being annoying?"
"Both, Evans. Don't you know me at all?"
"Unfortunately, I do." She crossed her arms and glanced around at all the fish-faced students gawking at them. Suddenly, one in particular caught her eye like thunder had just blasted in the room. He didn't even smile or frown or glare. He just stared, motionless. Quickly, she turned back to Chad.
"So, are you ready for it?"
She sighed, "What you say to me has no effect whatsoever. Don't you know me?"
He glared and then he rolled his eyes.
"Well, good then. Here's something for you: Just leave, Evans. Really," he stepped closer, so that now he was only inches from her face, "we're so tired of you. You make everyone sick and we want you gone."
His eyes rang out so clear—this wasn't a façade. He meant every word he spoke, with honesty. He didn't just say it to hurt her (nothing ever did anymore), he said it almost vulnerably. He was speaking the raw truth.
Sharpay clicked her tongue and simply turned back to her locker, as Chad walked off.
"Trust me, Danforth," she whispered to herself, "I wish I was gone too. I really do."
Jimmie Zara read her lips, the shred of her voice streaming in his ears.
-x-x-x-
It was finally time for lunch. Really, it was finally time Jimmie talked to Sharpay.
He rolled his hands over each like dough, as he sat at the round red and white table, waiting for Sharpay to enter the cafeteria. Donny watched him with concern. Jimmie just needed to speak with her—just once. He needed to hear her broken voice so he could see exactly how to mend it. Donny suddenly punched his shoulder.
"Ow! What was that for, D?" he exclaimed.
"Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"
Jimmie rolled his eyes, "I'm waiting for her—I have to talk to her."
"J, do you really think she eats in the cafeteria? Where all these people can see her?"
Jimmie stopped his constantly roaming hands and thought about that. Actually, he thought about why he hadn't thought of that. Of course Sharpay didn't want to be seen. She hated everyone here and they felt the same. So why on earth was Jimmie still sitting?
"I'll be back," he said urgently, grabbing his board and rushing away. But he paused and turned back to Donny, "Actually, I won't—see ya."
Donny rolled his eyes and waved his friend off.
Jimmie searched the halls endlessly. He couldn't find her. He checked every place he could think. Somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. She wasn't in school. So Jimmy hopped on his skateboard and flew out into the parking lot, grinding down the railing.
Suddenly, he skidded to a stop, nearly toppling off—because right there, dead ahead across the lot was Sharpay's car. And she was sitting in it.
-x-x-x-
Sharpay hated cafeteria food.
That was her excuse. She told them this so they'd just go on hating her and turn their backs. The truth was: she loved the food East High served. But what was the point of changing? Everyone already had an opinion of her—and becoming someone different would only cause more uproar. More attention. And the more she got—the more they hated her.
Even though, the one thing Sharpay was lacking: the right kind of attention.
Someone to see inside her head with their x-ray vision.
Because there was no way she could explain it.
Sharpay sat in her pink Mustang convertible, the one her daddy bought her when she was sixteen. She pulled a pen out from the glove box and climbed over to sit in the passenger side. She leaned against the dashboard, with her palm facing up. She began to draw on it. Words, depictions, patterns. The things she saw in her mind. Her feelings.
She was so lost in her work she even didn't notice that someone had slid behind the wheel. Until he spoke up.
"What are you writing?"
Staying calm, Sharpay merely glanced over. It was the kid she had seen in the hallway this morning. The weird one. As long as he didn't try anything, he could stay.
"Put the top up, will ya?"
"Um, yeah, okay," he said, puzzled by her relaxed response. He looked around for a button, something that said: Top Up. He found one that looked close and pushed it. Thankfully, the lid started to come up over them.
Once fully covered, Sharpay put down the pen and turned to him. Jimmie did the same. They stared at each other for a long time. They heard the warning bell ring thrice before either one had said anything. Finally, his head twisted to the side, Jimmie spoke up.
"Do you actually like your hair that color?" He stared at her seriously.
"Yeah, I do," she spat, fire burning in her eyes.
"It's so dark. What happened to the blonde?"
"I killed it." Sharpay loved to scare people, but it seemed Jimmie was unfazed.
"That's really sad," he said.
"Enlighten me." She turned back to her drawings.
"I would really like to."
Suddenly, outraged, she threw the pen down and turned to him, her brows buried deep over her eyes.
"Why does everyone have such a creepy fetish with blonde hair? I like it this way, okay?"
"Okay."
"I was fake when my hair was blonde," she said, her tone holding onto the anger inside.
"And now you're real?"
His question caught her off-guard. Because the answer was: no. She was still pretending. Only now, she pretended something different. She pretended she liked the way she was. Sharpay didn't answer his question. She just sat back and glared out the window.
"Usually, when someone asks someone else a question they answer back," he said, but in a protective, kind way. Sharpay scoffed.
"Usually, people know when to shut up."
"Not really. A lot people are too inconsiderate to realize or care, for that matter."
"Thank you so much for that excellent observation."
"You're welcome."
It seemed no matter what sarcastic remark she threw at him, he came back with one unequally so. He answered each question like she had really meant it. Because, apparently, he really meant it. He was beginning to scare her. Her heart was pounding. It was hurting.
Where were her pills when she needed them?
Sharpay began to rummage around the car. She popped open the glove box and fished through it, but to no avail. Maybe it was in her bag.
"What are you looking for?" Jimmie asked.
Sharpay grabbed her purse from the back seat and practically ripped it open. "My pills."
"You take your pills at 1:30 in the afternoon?"
Finally, she spotted them in her bag and pulled out the bottle with a sigh of relief. Then she looked at Jimmie.
"I'm supposed to take them whenever I need them," she said with a tone that suggested he didn't need to know anything about when she took medicine.
"And you need one right now?"
She glared at him, "Yeah. I do."
Jimmie folded his arms over his chest and watched, carefully, as she took two. Almost as if he was parent or something. After swallowing them, Sharpay capped the bottle, glared and tossed it to him.
"Here, Dad, go 'head and check it out."
"I don't need to," he said, handing them back.
"Oh, now you believe me?" she asked in a sweet, very sarcastic tone.
"I use to take those."
Sharpay's brows fell in.
"What do you mean?"
Jimmie shrugged, a half-smile on his face, and opened the door. He got out and turned around before leaving.
"Well, why do you take them?" And he shut the door.
Sharpay took a breath and rolled her eyes. That was why she didn't talk to people anymore.