I'm alive! I know I went AWOL for a while there, but I was just trying to get through my other stories. There's good news and bad news. Good news is that I finished one of my 3 stories! Bad news is I started another one. Lol, I thought I'd update because it's almost been a month since I last did. It'll get better, trust me. Go on, start reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own the High School Musical franchise. I envy Kenny Ortega.

Three months earlier…

"Gabriella, do you want to go to the library to have a study session?" Taylor asks me.

I refrain from rolling my eyes as I open the door to leave Hillcrest Academy. We go to the library every day, after spending 9 hours in grueling classes, all advanced, of course. I swear, Taylor would freak out if the library was closed one day. School is her life, other than that…she has nothing. No social life, her family is always busy working or doing crazy amounts of extracurricular activities, and she considers studying fun.

"Umm…sure, don't care." I mutter, shielding my eyes from the bright sun. It's not as bad down below us where the town is, but when you're on top of an enormous hill, it gets very intense. I hear the others snicker.

"What?" I snap at them, my patience already thin. I'm getting sick of this, being the perfect student, never doing anything wrong or, God forbid, getting an A-. Even a regular A is unacceptable.

"You are not using correct grammar, silly. We would think that you of all people would know how to structure a sentence, Miss Grammar Contest Award Winner of 2009," Martha teases me.

I refrain from rolling my eyes again. Okay, maybe I did win the grammar contest Hill hosted this year, and yes, maybe it did contain people with the best grammar in the state, but it's really no biggie. It's what my parents expect, nothing less. Honestly, I never wanted to do it in the first place. I didn't even know there was a such thing as a grammar contest, but when my mother introduced it to me, she said I had to do it. I can hear her annoying voice now, "It looks great on your college application." As if math club, science club, health careers club, FBLA club, a lot of volunteer work, playing field hockey, basketball, track, piano, violin, and (by my request) guitar wasn't good enough.

"Yes, I should have realized I was incorrect," I say just to please them. They smile, unaware of the conflict raging deep inside me. I don't want this life, I never asked for it. A lawyer as a mother, the CEO Albuquerque's biggest company as a father, a doctor-in-the-making as an older brother. With all this success all around me, it's expected for me to succeed also. I've done fine thus far, never questioning the flawless view that has been placed on me. I never imagined what it would be like to get a B (the horrors!) or to actually take a day to 'chill'.

"And now, the long trek down the hill," I murmur, low enough that my friends don't hear. We start walking off the flat top of the hill, the ground getting gradually steeper.

"Come on, I mean, who's bright idea was it to build a school on top of this large ass hill!" I exclaim. Taylor gives me a dirty look as Martha uncomfortably looks away. Oh, right. My friends don't support vulgarity.

"Well, I believe to have read that Hillcrest was built on this hill to show the superiority the students would have over others. To get up to the school, you had to be physically strong, and to get through the school day, you had to be mentally strong. In fact, the school was built in 1962, and…"

Taylor drones on and on about shit I don't care about. I tune her out and try to focus on not tripping. There are steps running the length of the hill, but even they are steep. Believe me, it's a big hill.

I look up for one second, and that's when I see him. At the bottom of the hill, going into the grocery store situated at the corner of Hillcrest Road and Main Street. I stare into the store, but he disappears from my view. From what I saw, he had longish caramel hair, running down over his ears and part of his eyes.

Skater hair.

On that alone, I know my parents wouldn't approve. Also, either he doesn't go to Hill or he's skipping school, both would make my parents look down on him. Who is he, anyways? I haven't seen anyone like him around. We live in a small town, just south of Albuquerque, New Mexico. It's the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, well, just about. This kid is proving me wrong.

There are only 3 possible schools for him to be enrolled in. Hillcrest, for the overachievers, East High, for the normal kids, and Oakwell…Let's just say, you wouldn't be proud to say your kid went to Oakwell.

At last, Taylor, Martha and I reach the bottom of the stupid hill. The parking lot is situated just off of Hillcrest Road, so we walk towards the street and, to my luck, the grocery store. Just then, the skater boy comes out. He looks even better up close. Bright cerulean eyes, I'm amazed I can even make them out from across the street. Sharp nose, serious face overall. His mouth is set in a straight line as he flicks the sunglasses off his head onto his eyes, blocking my view of his brilliant blues.

"Gabriella, at what are you looking?" Taylor asks me. I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes, both at the way she always uses my full name, like a nickname would kill her, and the way she phrased her sentence. Seriously? I know you're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition (I am the grammar queen, after all), but that just sounds ridiculous.

"Do you know who that boy is?" I ask, pointing him out from across the street. Taylor takes one look at him and visibly shudders.

"That's Troy Bolton. You don't want anything to do with him," Martha steps in while Taylor glares at Troy, unbeknownst to him.

"Why not?" I watch Troy take gum out of his shopping bag as he crosses the street towards us, popping a piece in his mouth. Mmmm, tasty.

"Why not? Gabriella, he goes to Oakwell!" Taylor whisper-screams at me.

I freeze, my eyes widening at Taylor. Oakwell, huh? Now that just can't do.

"Gabi, watch out!" Taylor hurriedly says to me a few seconds later. I'm too surprised that she actually called me by a nickname to follow her advice. I wish I did when I feel things crack on me, then cold, sticky stuff ooze on down my back, some soaking through my hair. I stifle a scream from the surprise as I turn around. Right behind me, with an empty carton of eggs, is a very shocked Troy Bolton.

So...what did you think? I spent 2 hours on this that I should have spent working on a science project due tomorrow that I haven't even started. All nighter, here I come!

I might not update too frequently, I feel like I owe the people that read my other story, Poor Unfortunate Souls, since it's my first story and it got me most of the people reading my stories, right now I have 99 reviews on it! I haven't been updating much for them, so I have to make it up. Also, I'm about to end another one of my stories, so I will have more time to type this one. AND I already have the next chapter planned, I just didn't have time to put it in this chapter. You gotta keep up with school, you know.

Speaking of chapter lengths, would you rather have long chapters less frequently or short chapters more frequently? Or do you think I should just go with what flows at the time?

Please review!