A/N: Gabriella, being a braniac and all, has a private website that she uses as a weblog. Read and review, please! Oh, and please don't steal my idea. (: I wrote this all in four hours, and a sequel's coming up!

Sunday, January 1, 2006

Remember when I said that winter vacation was unlikely to be… out-of-the-ordinary?

Wow, was I wrong.

Lemme explain. My mom forced me—yeah, literally—to go to a "young adults" New Years' Eve party, instead of educating myself on the tragedies that plague many American youths and expanding my vocabulary by reading a book called Burnt Orange by Melody Carlson. Eek… I swear. I'm never drinking an alcoholic beverage. Like… ever.

Anyway, before I go on rambling about suicide and cutting and all that crap… I sang. In public. On karaoke. This is a big deal for me, because I'm not exactly the most outgoing person in the world… heh. I wish I'd gotten up the guts to sing the first verse with Troy—yes, I met someone, too! This year keeps getting stranger and stranger—but at least I sang the second one before he walked offstage.

It was so much fun… wow. I mean, I've sung before—in church choir, actually… but as you know, that didn't work out too well for me.

And since Troy didn't know how much of a geek I am, he actually gave me a chance—and we talked after we sang. I have his picture on my cell phone—he gave me his number.

Holy crap. He's so freakin' adorable.

Too bad I chickened out at the last moment when they set the fireworks off—we kept on glancing at each other, turning away when our eyes met…typical romantic-chick-flick fluff—and ran away, literally… using my lame excuse: "I really should go and wish my mom a happy new year."

I think I heard him still talking to me while I was leaving.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Maybe this whole moving thing isn't such a bad thing. I mean… my mom got transferred to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and it's really nice there. Pretty nice people…

Cute and nice people. Mm-hm. Troy Bolton, of all people, was there. (Yes, I found out his last name. So…I win.) And this girl… who I guess likes him. Sharpay Evans. She's a lefty, and kinda writes in a graffiti style. She signed up for the winter musical… and took up most of the paper. I kinda want to audition… but I'm new here, and even though I'm pretty sure I can catch up and get familiar with the curriculum in time… I dunno. I'm a chicken, I guess. A dorky, freaky, algebra-liking chicken…?

Wow. "My brother and I have starred in all the school's productions, and we really welcome newcomers. There are a lot of supporting roles on the show. I'm sure we could find something for you."

Her voice is kinda annoying when you replay it over and over again in your mind. I think I'm going mad.

And… out of all those "school productions"—it's a musical, not an Oscar nominee!—surely one of them involved romance of some sort? I hope during kissing scenes they had substitutes for one of them. Because… wow. I'm getting nauseated just thinking about it.

LATER

Yes. I got you onto my cell phone, which also has a teeny-tiny little keypad. So as long as Ms. Darbus is busy, I can blog away about… you-know-who. I sit in the back of the classroom, and he sits at the front, so I'm free to stare at him and then just pretend that I'm looking at the teacher. His hair is so nice, and his eyes are perfect. He's not too muscular, but just right. It makes me want to kiss him and slap him at the same time, and yell, "Why do you have to be so perfect?"… or, better yet, yell that in his face, make him realize how cute I am when I'm angry (if I am…?), and then he'll kiss me, in front of Sharpay's face, and then we'll have beautiful, multi-talented children and live in a solar-powered house

EVEN LATER—DETENTION

Crud. Ms. Darbus caught me. Luckily I have you so ingeniously passworded, if I do say so myself, and I was able to close everything quickly. Now I'm in detention, and I've been trying to exercise self-control, which is apparently non-existent when I'm in the presence of Troy Bolton's undeniable hotness.

I don't think I've ever felt this way before—but now that he knows that I'm the freaky math girl, the only kisses I'll be getting from him are the ones from my pillow (secretly named after him—yes, call me obsessed, but I've never dated, kissed, or liked anyone, so… go sing something).

Oh, and I don't think Sharpay Evans likes me very much. Ha, what else is new? I mean, at every school I've gone to, at least one pretty, some-other-good-adjective girl has hated me intensely for no apparent/legitimate reason. Yikes.

Taylor McKessie, the president of the science club, has seen "proof" of my smart-ness and wants me to join East High's scholastic decathlon team. I don't know… I'd like to do that, I guess, but only if it doesn't get in the way of auditioning for the musical… but then again, if Troy's not interested in leading a "double life" and just wants to keep shooting hoops, that might complicate things…

…oh, crap. Someone just shoot me. All of these obsessive fantasies, all to be crushed down by that one big possibility—Troy might not want to sing anymore… or ever. Especially with me. I mean, if he wanted to sing, he could just pick Sharpay or something.

I am so stupid.

Eek. Troy's dad, Coach Bolton, just walked in on Ms. Darbus's speech about how horrible cell phones are. Troy and Chad were in a tree… it was a prop for the drama club, though. I kinda wish I could've joined them. I mean… it was probably more fun than standing behind a half-moon and painting the back of it. I mean… who looks at the back? The front was already done, anyway… psssh. I get kinda worried… what if Ms. Darbus hires illegal aliens to paint props for her drama club sets during break and/or weekends? I mean, how else would they have gotten painted?...

…seriously.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Wow, have I morphed into some freakish… miniskirt-wearing, skin-showing, Botox-using… thing? Because I giggled. For no reason. At Troy. Wow. I've kinda been wanting to do that for awhile, but… I dunno. I had really bad timing, I guess. But he smiled at me kinda weird. His cheeks looked abnormally chubby. Eek.

I've never had a guy smile at me like that before… kinda fake-ly but kinda real-ly.

Could he possibly…?

Nah, never mind. Forget it. But not the delete-yourself-because-you're-a-mutant-file-on-my-cell-phone kind.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

I sneaked (not "snuck"—don't make me beat you in the name of grammar) into the theatre to see the Evans twins audition—y'know, to see how good they really are… and Troy was there, hiding behind a mop…

…Sharpay's face is kind of like a dog's. That's not nice. Forget it… not literally, though…?

There were singles auditions, and they were… horrible. Even though the weird kids who were all, "Couldn't see" were pretty funny. They made me and Troy sink into our seats though, which was kind of nice of them, even though I didn't know them. We were so close to each other that I could feel his warmth and smell his spray… it was really nice. Perfect for a kiss, actually…

...heh.

Sharpay and Ryan are pretty good. Even though it was… different, but they were good. Ms. Darbus apparently liked them.

I don't know what got into me. I was all, "I'd like to audition, Ms. Darbus!" right when Troy was like, "We should… uh… go…"

And then Ms. Darbus goes, "blah, blah, blah… and there are simply no other pairs. Free period is now over."

Her outfits are hideous. Only she could get away with wearing those. Mmf. That wasn't nice, either. I'm in a rather not-nice mood.

Then Troy goes, "I'll sing with her," rubbing the back of his neck all cutely, like he does when… uh, I dunno. I've known the guy for less than a week.

But that sweet act of… hotness was all ruined because I don't think Ms. Darbus and Coach Bolton like each other very much, and, well… we were turned down. Yay! "We!"

Ahem. Okay…

Anyway. Kelsi Neilson, a pianist who's about as shy, if not shyer, as I am, slipped—it was pretty fake, actually. Pssh. She better not want Troy. xP Just kidding… I, um. Think…?

Back to Kelsi—she fell, and dropped her papers everywhere. Troy and I went and helped her like the good little Brownies we were (I never was a Brownie. Are they for boys and girls…?). We end up singing a slower (and not as catchy, I must admit) version of What I've Been Looking For, the song that they used for the auditions—Kelsi wrote it, and we're all smiling for no apparent reason, and then Ms. Darbus goes, "Bolton, Montez—you have a callback."

And I'm guessing this is a good thing, since Kelsi gets all excited and gives me sheet music. Pretty, romantic song. Breaking Free, it's called. I can't imagine Sharpay and Ryan singing this to each other. I just can't. I'm shuddering… right now.

Friday, January 13, 2006

I don't think that Troy's basketball friends are very happy about the fact that we got a callback. Lunch was chaos, and I ended up slipping on milk—what happened to janitors and maintenance men, not to mention common courtesy?—and dropping cheese fries all over Sharpay, who got Troy into trouble, I think, by lying to Ms. Darbus and making her yell at Troy's dad.

Can you say, "Yikes!"

I can. Wow. And I think I saw Ryan eat them. The cheese fries. I know I don't know Ryan well enough to judge him, but lately he's been acting kind of gay.

That was kind of made up for when Troy sent me a romantic—fine, I made that part up—note, inviting me to some "secret" hiding spot, "courtesy of the science club," he said. Usually when some guy says something like this, it meant he was making some sleazy attempt to impress me, but Troy has a way of making everything sound cute… maybe because it is. I don't know what makes me love him so much.

I think I know what. I can tell him anything—anything—and he totally understands and accepts me. Now, if I were a normal girl who actually HAD friends back where she came from, I'd say that I was more comfortable with him and told him more stuff than my friends back home. But… I can't. But if I did have friends, I'd probably still tell him more stuff.

And, you know. If he doesn't like me the way I like…love him, then… I guess I'll be okay with that. Because at least I'll have a great best friend…a best guy friend, since Taylor considers me her girl best friend… how, I don't know since I haven't talked to her much. But it's still really nice of her.

I can't believe I ended up using that corny analogy about me in kindergarten—truth is, I hardly had friends in kindergarten—I had to dodge flicked boogers from haters because I hardly spent class time with the class… playing dress-up and cooking with bacteria-covered plastic. Instead I was taking advanced classes for third-graders, explaining why I'm celebrating my sixteenth birthday in June.

But then again, the analogy thing might've worked, because I'm sure Troy had friends in kindergarten.

Good thing is, Troy wants to do the callbacks. Which is really cool of him. Another reason why I love him to death.

Weird. Because we have almost no chance of winning. Our friends don't want us to win, because they think it'll detract from our focus on our respective activities, "where we belong," and our parents don't know—I think Mami will be okay with it, but Coach Bolton?—eek. Plus, Sharpay and Ryan weren't kidding when Sharpay said that they've been in seventeen "school productions" to Kelsi. They've probably been working at this their whole lives…

…but then again. If we do get the leads, chances are, I'll get to kiss Troy… even though he's not acting as himself.