(A/N: Uh...the 'd' key on my laptop is dying a slow and painful death :P Don't own HSM x
Chapter 1 – Not interested
It was still dark when I woke up to the quiet beeping from my alarm clock. My clock flashed angry red numbers: 5:15A.M., and I rubbed my eyes before rolling out of bed.
I always woke up early. My mom used to scold me over how little sleep I got - and of course, just to spite her, my dad would talk endlessly about how proud he was of his early-bird-daughter, and they would completely forget about me and argue with each other - but I can't help it. Even without my alarm I can guarantee I will be awake before six.
I tore today's sheet from my planner and scanned through it, groaning. I had a doctor's appointment today - doctor's appointments are highlighted in pink, because I really, really hate the colour pink - and my AP English paper on Shakespeare's 'As You Like It' was due tomorrow. That was okay, I had finished it the week after it had been assigned and I just needed to proof it twice before submitting.
I had laid out my clothes last night after vacuuming. Johanna called me crazy because I vacuumed every night before going to sleep, but it helped me wind down, making it easier for me to sleep, and it drowned out my parents who were inevitably arguing downstairs. I never wore anything too fancy or expensive despite my mom's complaints. Usually, like today, it was just skinny jeans and a random t-shirt with a light jacket.
I jogged down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly. I had a history of clumsiness, whether it was falling down the stairs or tripping over my own feet, so I had to be extra-careful. Coming to school in a wheelchair was just asking for trouble.
"Gabriella?" My mom called as I poured my cereal into a bowl. "Gabriella, don't eat your cereal dry, sweetie. You need milk!"
I always ate my cereal dry. It was a habit I'd picked up over the years. When I wore braces in sixth grade, I poured orange juice in my cereal so it wasn't so hard to chew, but orange juice and my organic strawberry cereal didn't go very well so that habit didn't stick. Besides, milk on its own – I can still taste it with cereal – is disgusting. I only drink it when it's mixed with coffee…or in chocolate…
"Nina, don't bother her. She's old enough to make her own decisions now," My dad hissed as I gulped down some water and grabbed some converse sneakers.
"You're lucky I didn't leave, most wives would have walked out years ago, so don't you start," My mom ground out.
I could feel the tears burning at my eyes and threatening to fall as my dad came up with an icy retort. I hate to admit it but my parents have a strong love-hate relationship but I just have an overpowering fear that someday, the hate will take over the love. But, after all, their oldest daughter had fled small-town Albuquerque for New York and so why pretend that everything is okay around me?
"Bye," I shouted, and grabbed my bookbag before running out the door. The sun was beginning to illuminate the night sky and my cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. I made it to the park before sitting down and flipping it open. I didn't have a fancy phone, or anything even remotely functional, but I bought it myself and paid for everything with my money and so I was happy.
One new text message from Jo: Hey Gab, sup?
I snickered. Only Johanna would know to text me this early in the morning. Actually, only Johanna would text me at all. I sobered at that thought.
School. M+D fighting. u?
I stayed in the park for a while longer, finishing up my calculus homework – it wasn't due for another two days but how much is there to do at seven in the morning - and reviewing my English paper. I was at school by 7:32, exactly when Fred, the maintenance guy, opened the front doors.
"Gabriella, how you doin'?" He greeted, holding the door open for me.
I smiled a watery smile, nodding politely and then started walking to my locker. I always organized and re-organized my locker in the mornings, waiting for school to start. It was kind of like vacuuming my room: it took my mind off things for a little bit and besides, I liked watching the people trickle in until the hallways were crowded and loud. Then, I usually escaped to the music room to be by myself. I didn't actually play an instrument - I had given up the piano at age eight, and it broke my mom's heart. Johanna swears that she never was the same after that - but it was a place to wipe my tears and rea for a while before school started.
I didn't like to be the first to homeroom. Eccentric Mrs. Darbus always came up with things for me to do, ranging from tutoring failing students to overseeing the detention kids while they painted her drama sets. I always declined because it was just another way to get picked on.
Sometimes, though, I wondered whether it was better to be picked on and mercilessly teased than to be ignored. Everyone ignored me, I was verging on invisible. It's like I owned Harry Potter's cloak. I rarely talked, was awful at sports, and wasn't in any clubs. I swear that if it weren't for group projects in science, I would disappear altogether. And even then, the other students always left me to do all of the work. I wondered which day a teacher was going to look on their attendance sheet, and then back up at me, and frown and tell me that there was no Gabriella Montez in her homeroom.
"Ah, Gabriella! I'm going to re-assign seats, you will be sitting over here," Darbus fluttered over to the seat closest to the windows in the third row from the front.
I nodded, watching my feet as I moved my things. We had never had assigned seats before, and homeroom was only a ten-minute period where she gave us the announcements for the day, but it was no surprise.
The basketball boys, particularly Chad Danforth and his best friend Troy Bolton, were always rowdy and disruptive and she was obviously trying to separate them. Darbus directed Troy to the seat in front of me, and Chad to the front row right beside her desk. He started complaining, and Troy started cheering for him.
"Yeah, Chad!" He whooped, giving his friend an air high-five. Darbus sank into her roller chair, looking tired and disgusted at the same time just as the bell rang, causing all students – even the jocks – sink into their chairs.
"Drama auditions start this afternoon. Anyone – and I repeat, anyone, Mr Bolton, who gets detention two or more times in the coming weeks from me may be facing a part in the play, or as a backstage crew member. Mr. Danforth, Mr. Bolton, this includes you two especially," Darbus glared.
Last year, when she had said the same thing, Chad and Troy had, as usual, earned themselves detention by the end of homeroom that morning, and Darbus had declared that they would perform as extras in her play. Troy's dad, the gym teacher and basketball coach, Mr Bolton, - I absolutely dreaded him, as well as his class as gym provided all too many opportunities for me to break a bone - protested to the principal, Mr Matsui. After arguing over it for several days, Mr Matsui, who is known to be biased towards sports and sports players, agreed that Darbus' punishment would be detrimental to the sports future of East High.
"Ms Darbus, what is the play about?" Sharpay raised her perfectly-manicured hand in the hair, her blonde hair bouncing. I swore she was a natural brunette, and sometimes I wondered if she really liked the color pink. She hadn't worn pink in sophomore year, it was only after she became friends (friends-with-benefits, no doubt) with Troy Bolton that she'd taken to attention-getting clothes and the color pink, but maybe I was just over-analyzing the whole thing.
"Love, Miss Evans," Darbus threw her arms about and Chad coughed to hide his laughter. "How the most unlikely people fall in love, how opposites attract, and how love changes people."
"I've already designed the sign-up sheets for you, Mrs. Darbus!" Sharpay exclaimed as the bell rung, and everyone shuffled out. I caught a glimpse of the stack of papers in her hands as I was leaving the room – pink and gold, as always.
I rolled my eyes. If Sharpay Michelle Evans was anything, she was a kiss-up. She's always been in my life – she lived a couple of houses down from mine – and believe it or not, we used to be best friends. Used to be being the operative words. Of course, once she realized the potential popularity she could achieve by trying that little bit harder with her appearance, I was forgotten.
But for a few years, it was always Sharpay and Gabriella. We would go shopping together - mostly bookstores, but when Johanna was driving us, we would visit the small boutiques that sold cute, cheap jewellery - and we were so close that we used to tell people that we were twins – no one believed us, however, as I ha a deeper skin complexion and we o live, after all, in a small town.
That was a long time ago. I think she ended the friendship in sixth grade, and I remember that I cried for weeks and weeks until I finally figured out that I was better off without her.
I bumped into someone on my way out of the classroom, distracted by my trip down memory lane. "Oh, I'm sorry," I muttered an apology without even thinking, and stacked my dropped books.
"Hmmm…" An unimpressed voice exclaimed.
I straightened up, hugging my books tightly to my torso. "What do you want, Sharpay?" I sighed.
Sharpay flipped her blonde hair – and I swear I saw some brown at her roots - over her shoulder and straightened her back, looking down at me contemptuously. We were the same height, but she was wearing a pair of white four-inch heels which obviously gave her a confidence boost. Her brown eyes told me that she immediately recognized me but why should the Sharpay Evans talk to me in any way which suggests we are or ever were friends? "Ms Darbus wants me to hand these flyers out for the spring musical auditions." She thrust one of the pink flyers at me, her fake nails scratching my shoulder, and I stumbled back with surprise.
I accidentally stepped on someone's foot and something hard collided with my back, forcing me to step forward and swivel around to face- "I'm so sorry."
Troy Bolton shrugged slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes glued on Sharpay's chest. "No worries."
I shook my head to myself in disgust and turned back to Sharpay, handing the flyer back to her. "I'm not auditioning, Sharpay."
A tiny smug smile flitted across her face in a way which suggested that she glad there was less competition. "Oh well, okay. See you in class."
I rolled my eyes as she stepped towards Troy and they both made their way down the corridor. Although it was clear that Sharpay recognized me, I'd be surprised if she so much as remembered my name. And Troy? There was no hope for him whatsoever.
He had never spoken more than two words at any one time to me. The only time he did speak to me was when I bumped into him. And that was on very, very odd occasions. This time was the first one in about five months. Like I said, I try my very best to go unnoticed. The more people that don't know of my existence, the less torment I receive.
A simple yet effective plan which proved my hypothesis of people being swallowed too deeply by the temptation of popularity to even consider that one lonely student might attend school simply because she wants to learn something new.
You know when you get a hunch that your day is going to be absolutely – please excuse my language; I promise I don't curse very often – crap? That feeling just shot through my body like a lightning bolt.
* * *
Troy dribbled the ball, ran up to the net and took a shot. The basketball careened around the rim for a few anxious seconds and then fell through the net.
"He shoots, and he scores! 57 for the Wildcats, and zero for the Knights!" Chad shouted jubilantly, cupping his hand around his mouth commentator-style.
Jason laughed, and smacked Chad's shoulder. "So, I heard from a little birdie that the one and only Troy Bolton is officially single, and not tied down by the hot and rich Sharpay Evans. Is this true, Mr. Bolton?" Jason asked, holding his fist under Troy's chin in an imitation of a microphone.
"We weren't ever going out, but I ended the, uh, friendship we had before practice started." Troy muttered, pushing his friend's hand away before going over to the bleachers for a drink.
"Dude – that means Sharpay is mad at you, looking for revenge, and I'm the perfect man," Zeke breathed, and Troy raised an eyebrow.
"You're going to turn your back on your best man?" He asked Zeke, returning to the court and taking a blind shot, air balling it. Zeke bit his lip, shrugged, and ran out of the gym, the double doors slamming behind him. Jason was at his heels, not one to miss the drama, but Chad stayed behind.
"Are you sure you're okay, man? I mean, you really liked her in junior year, and now that it's over, is it really okay that Zeke's asking her out?" Chad put a hand on Troy's shoulder.
Troy shrugged. "I've got my eye on a hot blonde with an even hotter accent. She's a year younger than us, but that accent is just too much. Zeke can do whatever he wants with Sharpay."
Chad grinned. "Troy likes Tiara! You like Tiara, man. There's something about those eyes that is a total turn-off for me." Chad shuddered, picking up a basketball and dribbling it a few times.
"Dude, you haven't like liked, anyone since the ninth grade. I'm really starting to wonder, are you gay or something?" Troy joked as he made another shot.
Chad rolled his eyes. "I have my eyes on someone."
Troy smiled, amused. "Are her eyes perfect, her nose original, and her cheeks shiny but not too shiny?" He teased, remembering Chad's criticism of the girls he'd liked in the past as the gym doors opened.
Chad looked genuinely excited, and he dropped the basketball to grin proudly at Troy. "Yeah! Have you talked to her? Oh, my god, you could introduce us and then I'll ask her out. You don't like her, though, do you?"
Jack Bolton cleared his throat, and both boys looked at him guiltily. "Are you two ladies done chatting?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at Chad. "And tell me, where is the rest of my team?"
Troy rested his hand against the back of his neck nervously, and Chad ran his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight, looking at Troy.
"Rocketman said the juniors are busy doing something to do with a science field trip. Zeke and Jason are babysitting their sisters, and Troy is making up the English test he failed last week," Chad lied.
Troy groaned, hitting his best friend around the head. "Chad, Dude, I'm right here."
"Boys, if you don't tell me right now where the rest of my team is, there are going to be serious consequences and I don't think the rest of the school wants to see us forfeit the West High game next month because my players aren't showing up to practice." Jack glared pointedly at his son.
"Okay, okay. Rocketman was here for ten minutes and then he left, the rest of the juniors never showed up. I think, like, Sean and Derek showed up but left with Rocketman, and then Zeke left to ask out Sharpay and Jason left to watch Sharpay turn him down. But we're still here, because we're dedicated, isn't that right, Troy?"
"Yes, we are. We are dedicated basketba-" Troy started with a grin.
"Cut the crap, Ladies. You can go, but please warn your teammates that they will be staying here until nine tomorrow night to make up for missing today's practice." Jack stormed away, muttering under his breath.
"Hey, Chad, is the accent-girl single?" Troy asked casually, as they were walking to the locker rooms.
Chad stroked an imaginary beard, thinking. "Yeah, I think. I saw her and Ryan hanging out last week outside the music rooms, but Ryan's probably gay and they were probably waiting for Sharpay to finish singing or something."
Troy nodded, deep in thought. It didn't matter if she was single, he knew that every girl in the school wanted to be with him. Heck, he could probably go and tell Sharpay that it was all a big mistake, and she would be running back into his arms again.
He still remembered the day he told Sharpay that he wanted an open relationship so he could spend some quality time with her best friend, Emma, and she had nodded and emotionally told him that she would do anything as long as he was still with her. Troy chuckled.
Girls. They were all so dumb, sometimes.
"Don't you think, Dude?" Chad asked, whacking his best friend with a rolled up towel.
"Ow!" Troy yelped in pain, rubbing the back of his leg. "Need you pain me to get my attention?"
Chad rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're not going to need a cold shower because you're thinking of Tiara." He grumbled, pulling his jersey over his head and sniffing it before gagging.
Troy shook his head, pulling his locker open. "I'm not thinking about Tiara."
"Then what… I'm not going to bother." His best friend decided. "I was asking you whether you thought Taylor might ask me to the prom."
Troy pulled his own jersey over his head and rummaged through his locker for his shirt. "Who?"
Chad groaned and started banging his head against the locker door. "Please, Lord, take me now."
"No, tell me." Troy pleaded.
"Your princess girlfriend has rubbed off on you." Chad muttered as he finished getting change.
Troy glowered at his best friend as he, too, finished getting changed. "You're just jealous."
Chad shut his locker and laughed sarcastically. "Why would I be jealous of you?"
"I've got every girl falling all over me." Troy said, flicking his collar.
"Uh-huh. I hope you know I just want Taylor, right? And that you need to pass English otherwise you're not seeing the championship game, prom or graduation!" Chad exclaimed as the two best friends left the locker room.
"And I will pass English and graduate. I've got it covered." Troy said calmly.
"How?" Chad exclaimed. "You're failing. The only way you'll pass is if you ace the finals next month."
"And I will. Relax. You're passing so don't worry about meeee-ahhh!" Troy swiftly reached out and caught the petite girl who had just collided with him. "Whoa. Hold your horses. The last I checked, the school wasn't burning down. But, it should be with you around."
The beautifully curled brunette head lifted from her book and she rolled her eyes, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "Is that the best you can do to get a girl's attention?"
Troy shrugged modestly. "How about this one: have you seen my library card because I'm checking you out?"
The girl slowly shut her book and stepped out of his arms. "You surprised me. I didn't know you owned a library card." She held his gaze for a second before stepping around him and continuing on her way.
"Hold up!" Troy yelled after her. He waited until she faced him and he admired the sleek, feminine figure she was clearly oblivious to owning, and her capability of pulling off skinny jeans, a t-shirt she had clearly chosen at random and a light jacket over her torso. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"
She was clearly contemplating the question as she gripped her book with both hands and raised her shoulders. Her eyes were on the ceiling and she switched between standing on her heels and the balls of her feet for a few moments before freezing her movements and connecting her eyes with his. "Maybe." She gave him the ghost of a smile before turning on her heel and continuing on her way.
"What was that?" Chad laughed.
Troy shot him a reproachful look. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because," Chad paused to place a mockingly comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "She is so not your type. Trust me. She's not going to be easy."
"I was just going to make her think I liked her until she tutored me for English. She doesn't even look like a girl so I would never date her in a million years. But anyway, when have I ever trusted you?" Troy muttered as he shrugged Chad's hand off and walked ahead.
Chad quickly followed and sighed. "Do you want my opinion or not?"
"Didn't you just give it?" Troy questioned with a quirked eyebrow.
"Maybe…" Chad trailed off.
"Go on." Troy mumbled.
"Forget her. She's not going to be interested in you if her hair was on fire and you were the last bucket of water on earth." Cha exclaimed.
"How do you know?" Troy frowned. He didn't care about the girl, what interested more was Chad's apparent knowledge about the mysterious other part of the species.
"Come on, have you seen any of your girlfriends even pick up a book, or come up with a snappy comeback? And which girl would turn you down like that?" Chad questioned knowingly.
"Maybe she's new and doesn't know me," Troy said, and ran his fingers through his hair.
Chad looked at his best friend thoughtfully. "You think? She looks familiar, but I don't know where I've seen her bef–"
The corners of Troy's mouth lifted when he spotted a familiar blonde inspecting the drama bulletin board. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, Tiara!" He hollered as he jogged over to the younger blonde.
I was minding my own business doin' what I do
I wasn't trying to look for anything
All of a sudden couldn't take my eyes off you
I didn't even know if you could tell
That you had me in a daze sayin' 'What the hell'
-Do It Well, Jennifer Lopez
