Hey guys, this chapter's a little bit longer. The last one was a prologue, like I said. Please review!!! Reviews are what keep me going haha. -Arielle Valentina Carmen Brook

Sharpay Evans! This was horrible! Last time I had seen her, she had been happily holding hands with my ex-boyfriend, laughing loudly with my friends, and showing off her valedictorian certificate, which she had cheated her way into using the answers that she had stolen from ME, along with everything else good in my life!

"G-Gabriella? Is that you? You look so… so… different!" Sharpay stuttered, clearly not over the shock of seeing me again yet.

Yes, that would be because I'm happy, I'm confident, I'm successful, and I don't have some evil blonde prep trying to destroy my life, I thought. Of course I couldn't say that, though, so I just said, in my sweetest voice, "You too, Sharpay! Of course, you seem to have put on some extra pounds! Let's go check on that baby now, and we can catch up…"

"You two know each other?" asked Chandra, clearly surprised that I associated myself with people like that. I saw her look Sharpay up and down, from the too-tight-for-a-pregnant-woman hot pink tank top, the designer purse, the big sunglasses, and the matching hot pink high heels. She raised on eyebrow.

"Oh yes, we knew each other very, VERY well, don't we Sharpay?" I said, my voice raising a little at the end.

"Um, yes, well. Can we just go check on my baby, please?" Sharpay asked, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was currently going.

"Of course… go into that room over there and I'll be with you in just a moment."

"Alright. Goodbye Miss…" she muttered, addressing Chantal.

"DeMono. Have a good appointment, Miss…" Chantal started, then, after checking her papers, "Oh, excuse me, Mrs.Bolton."

My heart lurched. Mrs. Bolton?! I wanted to cry! That meant that after high school she had kept in touch with him… and now they were married! It was bad enough that she had ruined my high school years. But now she was going to try and ruin my new life? My life free of Troy Bolton, free of Sharpay Evans, free of Taylor McKessie, free of everybody that had ever made me suffer during high school! How could she do this to me?

But then I thought of something even worse. If she was now married to Troy… and she was on my floor… asking to have her baby checked on… that meant that she was having a baby with Troy! MYTroy! And that baby was going to have Sharpay's blonde hair and Troy's electric blue eyes and talent as a basketball player and everything. How could this happen?

"Ex-ex-excuse me, please, Mrs.Bolton," I mumbled, trying to hold back tears as I strode to the bathroom. I started weeping the second I got in there, but I'm not really one to cry normally, so it was over quickly and I was out of the bathroom in enough time for someone to think I just had an upset stomach. My eyes have never really swollen up when I cry.

When I entered the room I had told Sharpay to go into, she was sitting on the hospital bed nervously, her hand on her stomach.

"Look, Gabriella, I don't know if you'll be able to let go of what I did in high school, but I want you to know that I'm truly sorry."

"Oh yes, I can see that, Mrs.Bolton. You clearly seem so remorseful, you're married to the man you made me miserable about and are having a baby with him. Obviously you feel terrible. Anyway, I'm not interested in what shit you have to tell me. All I'm interested in is the baby. Now, please lie down and I'll do everything necessary."

As Sharpay did what I instructed her to, we went through the whole process with as few words as possible. As I saw the baby, I was slightly suspicious. It didn't really look as though it shared a mixture of Sharpay's genes and Troy's genes.

"Are you positive that this is Troy's baby, Sharpay? I mean, it kind of –"

"Yes, yes, of course I'm positive! Who else could be the father? Of course it's Troy!" she assured me. But it sounded rather more like she was reassuring herself.

"Okay, okay. I suppose since you are married to him. I just have to check something in your files, if that's alright…"

"Why? Do you have to?"

"Well, yes, I need to know how long you and Troy have been married, things like that. For the record."

As I walked out of the room, she seemed very nervous, starting but not finished several sentences. I went onto the computer and looked up "Sharpay Evans." All I found on her record was something about treatment for an STD a few years back, but nothing about a spouse. I looked up Troy Bolton. There was a picture of him, smiling, which I quickly scrolled down to cover, but still nothing about a spouse. That was odd. As I walked back to the room where Sharpay was, I asked her about it.

"Sharpay, there's nothing about a spouse anywhere on your or Troy's records. Why is that?"

"Fine! I admit it! I'm not really married to Troy. We just live together, so I go by Mrs. Bolton. Is that so wrong? It's as if we're married, anyway. We live together, eat together, sleep together, everything. We might as well be married!" Sharpay almost yelled, clearly getting upset.

That relieved me to no end, knowing that they weren't married. The lump that had been in my throat all morning, since her appearance, disappeared. I didn't know why, because I knew I could never get Troy off of her especially tight leash, and I wouldn't want to, but it did make me feel better.

"Alright, that's fine, Sharpay, there's no need to get upset about it. Why don't you come in for a checkup again next week, and we can follow the development of your baby. Are you about 4 months pregnant now, or longer?"

"Actually, 6 months. I'm due in 3 months. It's quite nerve-wracking, all this baby shopping and yoga!"

"Yes, yes, of course. Okay, well I'll see you later. Byebye, Sharpay! Oh, and by the way, if you need any help, feel free to call my cell phone, (081) 473-1183."

After she left, I sat in silence for a while in my office, and eventually fell asleep. I awoke, however, to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I had had this old cell phone since high school, and there was one number that whenever it called, it played a particular song – Breaking Free. So I thought I was dreaming when I woke up, hearing Troy's voice singing, "soaring, ooh flying, to get to the place to be all that we can be…" in a cheap recording we had done on the cell phone in drama once. I picked it up though.

"Hello?" I asked, tiredly, as I had forgotten about that certain ringtone.

"Gabriella? It's me, Troy."