A/N: Well, I'm uploading this from rainy Scotland. Yay!

Thank you so much to hopelessromanticgurl who had been a lifesaver helping me figure out this thing.

Enjoy my lovelies :)

Chapter Two

Listening to Stephen Hawking's podcast series about the newly developed theory surrounding supernovas, Gabriella was enjoying the fresh air. Her first two days had been a success in her eyes. Ms Darbus wasn't quite as convinced considering how clueless she was in drama. But despite that, Gabriella was loving every moment. Troy had even continued being nice to her on the second day, offering help with her drama homework at lunch on the rooftop garden.

It was everything she wanted. And even though the other students knew she was smart, they didn't know how smart. The homework was like a vacation from her usual studies so much so that she felt like she was handing doodles in to her teachers.

Aside from Troy, she hadn't really made many friends. Taylor McKessie was still pestering her to join the academic clubs and she still refused. Sharpay, president of the drama club and one of Troy's friends, had interrogated her during the independent study Ms Darbus had assigned to them. Gabriella honestly felt like the sparkly girl would handcuff her and hold a blinding light over her. Luckily she didn't, choosing instead to ask unimportant questions about her interest in Troy Bolton.

Because Gabriella didn't really have any interest in Troy Bolton. He was sweet and charming and, of course, nice to look at. But a relationship, even a hypothetical one, was unrealistic at this point.

The only person other than Troy she'd met that was calm, collected, and treated her like a normal human being was Zeke Baylor whom she'd met in home ec. Never needing a partner for projects, he was the only one with space at his work station. Luckily, he'd welcomed her literally with open arms and walked her through how to make a mean creme brulee, even though she'd never operated a cooker before. He'd been patient, but not patronising, he asked where she'd moved from, but not interrogated her, and she'd be happy to call him her friend.

But for now, she was merely enjoying Stephen Hawking's podcast on her way home from school.

She jumped when a car horn blasted beside her. She took one earbud out as she stepped towards the shiny pink convertible which reflected the sunlight so much it hurt her eyes. "Sharpay?"

The blonde grinned and lifted her sunglasses onto her head. "Yeah. Do you want a ride?"

"Um, I-"

"What street do you live on?" she persisted.

"Elm," Gabriella mumbled.

"I live on Maple. I'm practically driving past."

Gabriella sighed in defeat. Knowing there was just no arguing with a person like Sharpay, she turned off her iPod and climbed into the car that was probably worth more than her parents' house. "Thanks, I guess," she muttered, strapping herself in.

Sharpay lowered her sunglasses and waved a dismissive hand as she pulled out, causing a blast of angry horns as she cut off a minivan. She didn't even use her blinker.

Gabriella suddenly felt queasy and clutched the door handle as Sharpay sped down the street. She fumbled for her inhaler and took two puffs, easing the tightness in her chest. She didn't need to look at the speedometer to know that Sharpay was driving at maybe twenty or thirty miles over the limit.

"So," the blonde began, barely tapping her breaks at a stop sign, "how was lunch?"

"My lunch? It was only a BLT I brought from home."

A short pause.

"I actually meant the company with Troy," Sharpay explained.

"Oh," Gabriella whispered. She'd somehow hoped that they could bypass continuing the earlier interrogation. "It was...fine."

Sharpay screeched to a halt at a red light and pulled a face at her passenger. "It was...fine?"

Gabriella shrugged. "I don't know. We mostly talked about drama. It wasn't anything exciting."

"It wasn't anything exciting?" Sharpay almost screamed as she set off again, breaking the speed limit once more.

"Stop repeating me," Gabriella exclaimed, rubbing her forehead.

"You do know that ninety percent of the female population would kill to spend lunch with Troy Bolton? And that's including lesbians and girls with boyfriends," Sharpay pointed out, pulling up outside Gabriella's house.

Gabriella knew alright. It seemed high school girls weren't exactly subtle when it came to jealousy. "I don't know what you want me to say. He's a nice guy."

That seemed to make Sharpay pause and take her sunglasses off. "I know. He's one of my oldest friends. I maintain he should, by definition, be one of the biggest dickheads on the planet. Jock, a popular one at that, and some serious eye candy. But dickheadedness is not in the Bolton genes."

Gabriella frowned, contemplating what Sharpay had said. "I'm not leading him on, if that's what you think."

Sharpay smiled at the poor girl. "I don't. All I'm saying is that Troy doesn't always notice what's right in front of him. If you do have a thing for Troy, don't be insulted if he doesn't show he's interested in you."

Gabriella hesitated, wondering how much she should tell Sharpay. "Well, he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met. I do like him a bit. But, I'm not exactly in a relationship place right now."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "Recent break up or something?"

"Let's go with 'or something'. You know, new town, new school, new curriculum. I just have a lot of adjusting to do."

Sharpay nodded slowly. "If it'll help, you're more than welcome to have lunch with us. We don't bite."

Gabriella considered the offer. It would be nice to have friends, and a real friendship group at that. Although Taylor and Sharpay had been a little intense, they weren't being mean as such. And if they were anything like Troy, she'd be lucky to have them. She knew that if she were to start hanging out with such a large group of people, she'd seriously have to work on her social skills but that would come with time. For now, she was happy to be accepted into a social group at all.

"Yeah, that'd be...that'd be great. Thank you." Gabriella reached to get out of Sharpay's car but stopped herself. "You're friends with Taylor, right? Taylor McKessie? Could you tell her that I'm really not interested in being in any of her clubs."

Sharpay shrugged, putting her sunglasses back over her eyes. "Sure. But, why not? I've seen you in class. Why don't you want to be in the academic clubs?"

Because I already have two Master's degrees and a PhD and I don't think it's morally okay to compete in a high school club.

"My parents are scientists. They don't believe in using academia for sport."

"Most people don't believe in using animals for sport, but whatever," the blonde joked.

Gabriella got out of the car and waved the pink convertible off as Sharpay beeped her horn. Stepping inside the front door, she was greeted by her tabby cat who was, for the next few weeks, on house arrest until she was sure the feline wouldn't run all the way back to Connecticut.

"Come on, Stephen," she murmured, shutting the door behind her.

She paused, her ears trying to find some sort of sound but drawing a blank. Not surprised, she headed to the kitchen to pour herself some coffee and feed Stephen. She checked the mail and added milk and sugar to the shopping list on the blackboard by the back door. Grabbing her school bag, coffee, and a rather official looking letter from Stanford university, she headed upstairs to her lab.

Perhaps lab was a bit of an overkill. After all, she was a theoretical physicist. She didn't do many experiments. But, since she wasn't working anymore, her parents had let her convert the largest bedroom into a lab. She stepped into the room, bright with the sun streaming through the wall length window.

Leaving her shoes and jacket by the door, she sat down at her desk which overlooked the street outside. Tearing open the letter, the skimmed the contents, having to do so several times before the meaning sunk in.

Stanford University. Who'd have thought?

Stowing the letter in the bottom drawer of her desk beneath a pile of blank notebooks where her parents wouldn't even see it, she took a deep breath.

She may be a genius and a smart one at that, but her parents still enjoyed prying. This was one thing they wouldn't decide for her.

After dropping Gabriella home, Sharpay turned the car around and headed to Taylor McKessie's house on the other side of town. She muted the radio and dialled Taylor's number, putting it on speaker phone.

"Seriously, Evans? You know it's date night," Chad Danforth's voice on Taylor's number wasn't exactly a surprise anymore. After two years of dating, they'd more or less swapped cell phones.

Sharpay's skin bristled and she sighed. She and Danforth couldn't agree on much except one thing: Taylor McKessie was a wonderful human being. "I really don't care. I have something to tell Taylor."

"Come on, Evans, I never interrupt your dates with Zeke."

She paused for a moment, feeling tension creep into her shoulders. "You never interrupt our dates? You always interrupt them, even when we're…intimate."

There was a moment of rustling and then Sharpay heard Taylor's voice. "What did you say to Chad? He's throwing up in my bathroom."

"Great, you're actually there. I'm pulling up to your house as we speak," Sharpay said, gaining control of the situation once more.

"But-"

Sharpay slammed on the breaks in front of Taylor's house. "Are you two decent?"

She strided up the garden path towards Taylor's house, stepping inside without so much as tapping the door.

"Well, yes, but-"

Sharpay began climbing the stairs in her knee high faux leather boots. Perhaps not practical in the beginning of a New Mexico summer but they made her legs look fabulous. She burst into Taylor's room to find Taylor boxing up an unfinished game of Monopoly and Chad glaring out of her bedroom window.

"Monopoly? Now that's hot," Sharpay teased, immediately taking a seat at Taylor's dresser to scrutinise her reflection.

"Only because we're not animals like you and Zeke," Chad spat.

Taylor rested a hand on her boyfriend's chest. "It's okay. Just go for a run and calm down. I'll call you later."

"But-"

"Later," she promised.

Chad gave her a kiss on the lips and sent Sharpay a final glare before he left the McKessie household.

"Sharpay, I love you like a sister but you've got to start respecting date night. You know what Chad's like. I mean, he's uneasy this year because of graduation, anyway, and-"

"I gave Gabriella a ride home," Sharpay interrupted.

That made Taylor slow down as she put the boardgame in her closet. "What?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "For the resident Einsteinette, you're a bit slow. I gave her a ride home. I thought you'd be interested."

"Hell yeah. There's something not quite right about her," Taylor said as she sat down on her bed.

"Well, it gets even more interesting. She likes Troy but she's not 'in a relationship place'." Sharpay used physical air quotes, clearly unconvinced that Gabriella had meant it.

Taylor frowned and brushed a stray lock of black hair from her face. "What does that mean?"

"I assumed it was a recent break up but she said she needs to 'adjust' to being in a new town." More air quotes.

A pause.

"And you don't believe her?"

"Do you?" Sharpay shot back. "She even said she won't join your clubs-"

"Teams," Taylor corrected absentmindedly.

Sharpay continued as if Taylor hadn't opened her mouth, "- becuase her parents don't believe in using academia for sport."

"What?"

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. "Exactly. Did you find out where she moved from?"

"Troy said Connecticut but the dumby that he is didn't press this issue. He started rambling about the Redhawks again," she muttered.

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "Something's not right with that girl. Fancy doing some digging?"

"You practically read my mind."

With her earbuds blasting music in her ears, Gabriella went running through the neighbourhood, a route she had memorised the first time they all viewed the house. That was a lifetime ago.

Now, it was a daily routine. Or bi-daily, depending how motivated she was. After a long day at school, an empty house, and the letter from Stanford, a run was just what she needed. Gravity pulling her feet onto the sidewalk, her heart pumping blood at an accelerated rate through her veins and arteries, and the endorphins travelling to her brain.

Oh, those wonderful endorphins. They masked the throbbing pain in her calves and made her feel good. And she did feel good.

She knew that a lot of people used running as a time to think and process events and information. It made sense. Just you and the wind, the odd passing car, and your feet pushing off the concrete. It was the perfect place to think. Gabriella, however, used the time to escape her thoughts. Which explained why she chose to listen to rather intense metal music. Seriously, who could think about anything with screams in the bathroom.

Her mother didn't see the point in Gabriella's exercise regime, despite being a biologist and knowing the effects that exercise had on brain activity and emotional wellbeing. Her father, however, was thrilled that Gabriella got out of the lab. She spent the majority of her waking life thinking and processing information. She needed a break.

She knew Maria loved her. She just wish her mother loved her a little less.

She closed her eyes, blocked out the world, the wind whipping her ponytail behind her, the music screaming in her ears.

That, evidently, was a mistake because a moment later, she was falling backwards, her arms flailing in a rather unattractive way.

She landed with a bump on the ground, her legs up in the air. She felt grazes and scratches on her exposed lower back where her U of A t shirt had ridden up. "Ow," she muttered, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry."

Before Gabriella knew what was happening, someone grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled for a moment but then regained her balance and opened her eyes, looking straight into the eyes of Chad Danforth. African-American, wild afro he had somehow tamed into a hair tie, and atired in a rather sweaty basketball jersey and shorts. Namely, the guy who had hit her in the head with a basketball on her first day.

"Hey, New Girl," he exclaimed, shooting her a winning smile.

"Um, Chad, right?" she muttered, absentmindedly resting a hand on her lower back.

"I am so sorry," he repeated. "My girlfriend always tells me I need to look where I'm going."

She shook my head. "It's my fault. I had my eyes closed. Bad habit."

"I feel so bad, though." He seemed to feel the topic unimportant because he gestured to her iPod and asked, "What's your soundtrack?" Before she could answer, he was already holding an earbud to his ear, hearing the deafening screams of Iron Maiden. "Hardcore. I would not have put you as a heavy metal fan."

Sighing, she turned her iPod off, draping the wire around her neck. "It's my 'Forget The World' playlist."

"What other playlists do you have?"

"Well, there's 'Concentration', 'Heartbreak'. There's a lot of Taylor Swift on that one. 'Dance', 'Road Trip'-"

"I get it. You're organised. You'll get on like a house on fire with Taylor?"

"McKessie?"

He nodded. "She's my girlfriend. For some reason or another."

"She's the scholastic decathlon girl, right?"

"Don't worry. She'll lay off. Just give it time." He gestured to the parking lot down the street where she could see a cluster of food trucks in one corner. "Do you want to get a corn dog or some fries?"

"I don't have my wallet. Believe it or not, I try not to buy junk food when I go for a run."

"Where's the fun in that? If I get you a corn dog, you get me some chilli cheese fries at lunch tomorrow. Deal?"

They took a slow walk back down the street. Chad had, in his words, 'treated himself for having to deal with Sharpay' with a triple decker cheeseburger, extra cheese, with bacon. Gabriella felt like she was at risk of a heart attack just hearing his order. She had opted for some fries instead but he insisted she added cheese to her snack.

"Thoughts on East High?" Chad mumbled as he bit down on his burger.

Every so often, having an older brother came in handy. For example: boys' eating habits had never grossed her out. In fact, she'd been chastised on her own eating habits once or twice.

"Um," she muttered around a handful of fries. "I like it."

"Really? It doesn't want to claw your own eyes out for something better to do?"

"Why do you hate it so much?"

"Sharpay goes there," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So you'd rather go to West High?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Troy had filled her in on everything related to Albuquerque including the Wildcats' biggest rivals: the West High Knights.

"Blasphemy! I'm just saying I could live without her."

"You'd miss her."

"Agree to disagree."

And so, Gabriella had quickly found herself a running buddy. She no longer had needed to take her iPod as Chad's constant rambling ensured she couldn't think about anything much less her research in his presence. The topics included, but were not limited to, basketball, food, his love for Taylor McKessie, and his hatred for Sharpay Evans. Seriously, if he wasn't so whipped by Taylor, anyone would think he had a thing for Sharpay.

His presence made her runs somewhat pointless as he always insisted they grab a rather unhealthy snack on their way home, so she usually gained more calories than she burned. Chad bought hers and she repaid him the following day at lunch, now that she was welcome at their cafeteria table. She kind of felt like she was on some sort of probation but Troy told her not to worry about it.

"So Troy tells me Mario is your brother? And that your dad is the new coach of the Redhawks?" He spoke slowly, as if this was a state secret or a sore spot of Gabriella's. A week had passed since he had first bumped into Gabriella and it was the first time that Chad had ventured towards the topic of family.

"Um, yeah. Mario's three years older and my dad's coached at Lesley University, Southern Connecticut, and now U of A. Why?"

"Is he a fierce coach?"

Gabriella paused. Sports was not one of her interests. And although she sometimes played with her dad and brother, she'd never been coached by her dad. "Why?"

"I'm going there. Hopefully. Taylor's helping me with my grades. But that's where I'm going to school next year. Troy, too."

"Troy's going to U of A? No wonder he was so excited that my dad's the coach," she mumbled. "Well, I don't really know his coaching style. I'm not one of his players."

"Of course not. It's okay," Chad mumbled around a mouthful of nachos.

"But I know he teaches a mandatory physics class," she offered.

"Physics? You mean gravity and E=MG2 and all that crap?"

"Well, it's actually MC2, the formula for the mass - energy equivalence. My dad doesn't teach that because it can't really be applied to basketball and therefore useless in his class. He focuses more on forces and theories of movement."

"Well, my science grades aren't that great," Chad muttered, avoiding Gabriella's gaze.

"Doesn't matter. My dad doesn't give assignments. He teaches you physics to apply it to basketball so that your throws are more accurate," she explained.

"More accurate throws means more points," he realised.

"My dad thinks he can one day turn the Lakers into a super team. Don't worry, my dad teaches using basketball scenarios. You'll be fine. And from what Troy tells me, my dad'll be lucky to have you."