I stepped into the huge mansion, wondering why I was stupid to agree to stay here. I knew nothing about this family, I just left my mom, I only have one bag of clothes and other necessities, and I had exactly… 1, 2… no money on me. I guess I just got lost in his eyes. I've only known him for about 3 hours, and I'm practically saying I'm in love.

Disgusting.

"Troysie wroysie, sweet as pie! Come on over here, don't be shy!" I heard a woman's voice boom from upstairs. She had one of those high-pitched, freaky evil-God-mother voices. She came down the stairs in neon pink sweats, and her hair was up in multi-colored curlers. She was applying makeup, and her cell phone was glued in her hand.

"Oh," she said as she jumped over the last step, eyeing me up and down. She sounded disappointed. "OH!" she exclaimed like she realized something. I jumped at her sudden epiphany. "Welcome to America. I am Jennifer Vieira. You must be the new maid from Mexico," she said slowly, making weird gestures with her hands.

"Bien, por lo menos sé que eres un jackass estúpido, rico, racista," I said with a bright smile. At least I knew that much in Spanish. (A/N: If you don't speak Spanish, Gabriella said, "Well, at least I know you're a stupid, rich, racist jackass.")

"I'm sorry honey, I don't speak español," she said slowly again, making the over-dramatic gestures again.

"Good, that makes my job a whole lot easier," I said with a little laugh, brushing past her. "And I'm not a maid. I'm Troy Bolton's friend. You know, brown hair, blue eyes, about," I put my hand a couple of inches above my head, "Yay high?"

"Aw, yes, my charming little nephew. Lucille Bolton is my sister. I've never been married – well, if you don't count my last seven husbands – so I kept my maiden name. But anyway, back to Troy. He has a new girl here every week," she said with a cheeky smile. She got closer to me and whispered softly, "Just don't go in his room with him unless you like to pick out baby names." She pinched my cheek before jogging upstairs.

This could be a problem.

"Gabby!" Troy called out. I could hear his voice echoing off of the hallways. I heard his footsteps getting closer to the guest room where I was currently unpacking.

"Uhm, in here, Troy!" I called out hesitantly. In a couple of seconds, I saw his muscular frame in the doorway.

"Hey, I hope you like it here," he said with a lazy smile. "My Aunt Jenny can be hard to deal with at times."

"Oh, I know. She called me a Mexican maid when I first saw her. She was also speaking like this," I replied, speaking slowly at the last sentence.

Troy's angelic face instantly fell. "Oh, oh Gabriella I'm so sorry!" he came rushing to my side and pulled me in a bone-crushing hug. "What did I say, hard to deal with."

"Uhm, Troy, more like hard to breathe!" I gasped, squirming in his grasp.

Oh joy, this should be fun.