Writing for a while. We really doubted for a while, until a friend kinda talked us back. Thanks BangxDitto. So this is it! We hope we did well on it, and that it ups the ante. Any reviews you guys have for us are amazing, really. And we both can't wait to see what you guys though. So…review?
We don't own High School Musical or it's characters. We do own Alice though ;)
Homeroom; the class we only have only once in a while. It's a messy tango of flustering, red faced teachers and bratty kids rolling their eyes and snickering behind their backs. Really, the best way to describe these forty five minutes is a limbo, where friends—that is, if you actually have friends to begin with, or are lucky enough to share homeroom with them, which I am not—get to gossip with each other, tell some jokes, and generally show off for the rest of your peers while teachers finish perfecting their plans for the week.
Homeroom is pretty much a pointless period. In reality, nobody cares what announcements the teachers try to yell out above the roar of us uncivilized human beings. Nobody wants to hear about the Welcome Pac for incoming freshman. Nobody cares about new rules about gum or texting or cheating. And nobody wants to hear about class elections, because we already know who will win. 90% of what's handed to us goes right into the garbage on the way out…so much for the forests right? The other 10% gets shoved into our bags and forgotten for a week.
I've generally hated homeroom, ever since the seventh grade when Robert O'Neil told me that my friends didn't really want to talk to me and that I should just go away. I've hated them ever since…him even more than they. I guess I keep grudges. They sit over by the windowsill now, and most of them are popular sluts devoted to Sharpay and her kind. Now I sit in homeroom, all alone. It's the first mistake everyone made. Who would have thought, honestly, that somehow we would ALL magically have the same homeroom? A few of us do: Sharpay and Ryan….Zeke Baylor and Troy, Gabriella and Taylor. If that impossible system actually works in your school, tell me because I'm pretty sure it can't happen.
When the bell finally does ring, and we all rush out of class while the teacher tries to wish the few kids in earshot to 'have a good day' we go out onto a battle ground. The hallways are so congested there isn't an inch of breathing space between the packed bodies. And if you aren't noticeable or popular like Gabriella and Sharpay you better watch out. By the time I get to first period, Economics with Mr. Fairfield, my hair is less than perfect and my new clothes are wrinkled.
Taylor is in my class too. So is Troy. They both come in a few minutes after I do, when the teacher is just about to start class looking like they just came off a runway. Not a hair on their head is out of place. It's a little infuriating. Mr. Fairfield doesn't even bat an eye, just waves them to two seats open in the front. They pay no attention to me for the first half of class, untill after our teacher has lost his breath and will to speak and we are well past caring. Then they turn.
Taylor smiles minutely, as if afraid to actually show her greeting. Troy…he stares at me with a slight look of distaste, but I can't blame him. He's surrounded by perfection. Hell, he's in LOVE with perfection. And my plain disheveled looks are no sight for sore eyes, but I can't blame him. I never could. They wave me up and over to them. I nod then take my stuff and move. Like I always do. Mom says I'm a pushover. But really it's easier to follow than lead, especially when it's Troy who's commanding me.
We shoot the breeze for a few minutes, well really Taylor and Troy do. I sit there silently, nodding and pretending to know what's happening. They all know information that I don't. Mostly because they're so connected into what everyone's doing. It's one of my goals. Something burns horribly inside me to know what they know and be like them. It's stupid but…I can't help it.
When the bell finally rings, we all pick up our stuff slowly, and I shuffle out ahead of them while they continue talking. We separate in the hallway then with quick waves. It's a little confirmation that even though we're friends we aren't the same. They are on a whole different layer on the social system.
Next is English, and I have it with Ryan. Which means that not only will I be doing all the projects this year, but also I'll be helping him get his straight A's like Michelle Beck did last year. And the class will go far too slowly for my liking. But that's what you get when you have a kid in your class with an IQ of 34. He pays almost no attention to me. He just gets into a deep conversation with some other baseball players over to the side near the door, and they disappear quickly when the bell rings.
Third period is one of my electives; Sociology. I have it with an old friend of mine, Amy. I don't hang out with her very much, because I'm either working hard on getting a scholarship to college or am off doing something with the rest of the gang. She doesn't mind though. She tells me herself. She says, if she were in my shoes, that she'd probably be doing the same thing. Although, she probably wouldn't. She's such a little goodie-too-shoes. She goes to church a lot, if you know what I mean.
It's only till Fourth and Fifth that I realize just how bad Senior year will be. Calculus AP is a double period; an hour and a half of trying to stay awake while Ms. Murphy drones on and on about complex equations and all that fun shit. And guess who sits right next to me: Sharpay Evans. She's bubbly when she sees me, and gives me a quick hug, which is almost sincere—if it wasn't for the fact that nothing she does is sincere.
"Hey Kels, what's up?" She's taking out a notebook and a pen, flashing a smile at the teacher, who's smiling back before turning to get some papers from her desk. Ms. Murphy does set design for the plays, so she's most likely eating out of the palm of her hands.
"Hey…Sharpay." I smile back at her, running my fingers through my hair and pretending it was as soft and that it flowed like Sharpay's does. I mimic her in taking out my notebook, and I busy myself with taking notes for a while. "I just have a lot of homework."
"Oh god I know. I can't believe it either. I mean, we're SENIORS for Christ's sake. We should be getting a free ride practically." She shakes her head and smiles. "Oh well though. It'll be easy though. I mean, it's not as if we're taking any hard classes."
"This IS AP Calculus."
"Oh please, like it's hard?" She gives me a look, as if to tell me to wake up. Right. AP means that this class is basically being taught like a real college class. Which means the teacher doesn't care if we're here or not as long as we pass the tests. I'm going to need a really good tutor.
I laugh along with her though. "Right…"
We end our discussion there. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to me…well, she didn't say it out loud though. But the teacher was starting already on the first chapter. While I'm scribbling down notes, Sharpay is fluidly writing them out, taking her time. And while I struggle with it, she does it with no problem, even getting the twenty question homework assignment done in class even though there is less than ten minutes. I can't understand it.
"So…Donny Applemen is having a party on Saturday. It should be nothing short of amazing. Are you going?"
I look up from my homework, surprised. " Uh…I don't know. I wasn't invited." My stomach is churning with butterflies. What if she's inviting me…this could be the first time she's actually taking notice to me.
"I'm sure it's in transit. Keep your head up." She pats my shoulder, and my mouth falls open. See what I mean? She doesn't really care about me at all. I'm not surprised, and I chastise myself for getting my hopes up.
The bell rings before I have a response, and we both exit the classroom together, less than an inch between us. This isn't abnormal though. We're going to lunch. You see, in our school, they pull each class together for lunch. So, the freshmen eat all at once at fourth. The sophomores all eat together at fifth. Juniors, because of the ACT's, have to eat seventh. So we Seniors all get to eat Sixth. It's supposed to cut down on any inter-class bullying. Ryan still gets around that. He likes to draw blood before he eats, I guess it helps digestion.
He's walking out of the bathroom now, wiping his hands. I bet he just gave some poor kid a swirly. He walks over and goes to give Sharpay a hug but she pushes on his stomach. "Did you wash your hands?"
"Yeah of course." He smiles. "What kind of animal am I?" God I swear this kids going to be a serial killer. Sharpay takes no notice and rubs his head, smiling.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't hurt the kids to much this year. I'd hate to see the school board have to be informed. Daddy took care of the principal last year, but I swear he won't be able to do it again this year." You see, Mr. Evans quieted up the principal last year when he threatened to expel Ryan by paying for a whole new wing of the school, which was being added as we walked. It was going to be an Olympic sized pool, a new work out room, and a revamping of the computer software's. It was a big deal.
Gabriella joined us next, her lunch bag swinging in her hand as she strutted. She came up beside Ryan, who wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss, even as they walked. Chad and Taylor were already moving into the cafeteria ahead of us.
We walk in through the side door and then across the ground floor up to the second floor loft, and take a table against the glass railing, where we can monitor the happenings of the crowd for lunch. The tiled floors, red and white, gleam. And outside a warm breeze is blowing a wad of napkins across the cement patio.
The cliques can really be seen well from up here, and with my bagged lunch, I assess them now. The geeks are below along the wall at a long table, their books open and pens ready. They seem to be catching up on what scientific accomplishments they've all had this summer, and figuring out who will probably be Valedictorian. With any guess, it'll be Sharpay even though she's in the bottom of the top ten percent. The musicians are at another table, their cases on the floor around them. A few have music sheets out, and are chatting about some shit only they understand, although I'm not very proud to say, I can understand it too.
The stoners all have Marley hats on, and are all wearing stupid grins on their faces. Stoned already on the first day of school. Aren't they off to a good start. Troy is talking to one in the corner of the room. The stoner passes him a bag of something. I smirk. He's hardly stealthy about it. Although so far Sharpay hasn't found out, although I'm sure she will by the end of tomorrow. Like I said, she has Gabriella at her side. And between them, they know all.
Sharpay goes off to the lunch line with Ryan and I follow behind them. Today they are serving the same disgusting food they were last year; pizza, undercooked spaghetti, and greasy hamburgers. Sharpay grabs a hamburger, an extra-large M&M cookie, and a bottle of ice tea before joining the queue paying. I take my time, surveying everything before picking a bagel and cream cheese. Ryan…he picks up two hamburgers, a chocolate milk, and a chocolate chip cookie. I don't know how he can eat it.
When I get back up to the table, they are already sitting around it, in the same place. Sharpay and Troy sit on the left hand side, with Chad on Troy's left and Gabriella at the head. Next to her, is Ryan, then Chad, then myself, and then Taylor, who sits next to Chad. When I get there, I'm in the middle of the conversation, so I don't know how this started.
"But doesn't Margaret Cho look absolutely hideous today in that purple blouse? I mean, it looks like it came out of the seventies." She chuckles, then takes a bite of her grilled cheese.
"That's because she probably got it out of her mother's closet!" She's laughing now, very hard. I picture her falling out of her seat and hitting her head on the floor. She's just settling down and taking a bite of her hamburger when she walks by.
Alice McGovern. She's this really curvy, really busty girl with the most voluminous, red hair I've ever seen in my life, and deep sultry, pouty brown eyes. She's really beautiful. And she was Troy's girlfriend before Sharpay. They hate each other because Alice maintains that Sharpay stole him from her. Sharpay hates her because, besides Alice being a poser, Troy's a cheater. And apparently, one time he cheated on her with Alice. It's epic when they fight.
Alice stops short against the railing. She's got on a white skirt and a grey blouse with a blue ribbon around the waist. She looks quite nice. Sharpay stops mid smile to Gabriella, and the two lock eyes.
"McGovern."
"Evans."
"Get that outfit out of the Gap?"
"Find a membership to the gym?"
She glowers. If I were a dog, my ears would be behind my head and my tail would be between my legs. As it is, most of us at the table involuntarily shiver and grow nervous. I have this nervous habit where I turn my fork around and around.
"Okay Alice. If someone needs a gym membership, then it would be you."
"Me? I'm perfect. Have you seen my body?"
"Three fourths of the student body and half the teachers in this school have seen your body."
She frowns, then turns and sees Troy. "Hi Troy." She smiles, and twirls her hair, then walks over and leans on his shoulder. He winks at her.
"Alright, take your skanky ass off my boyfriend and walk away." She's like a mountain lion protecting her dinner. It's slightly disgusting.
She moves away, and frowns. "Oh as if Sharpay. Don't be such a paranoid bitch. I don't want Troy. Never did." Lie. We all know it is.
"Uh huh. I see you got a boob job. Did daddy's money pay for that, or did you use the money you got off the street?"
"I don't know, but I wonder where you got your nose done, maybe I'll check out the doctor." She smiles.
Sharpay gives her the finger. Around the table, the mood has drastically changed. Ryan is shaking. The rest look frightened. Gabriella has a mad, gleeful expression on her face, one that makes her look demonic. It looks like the expression bloodthirsty men have when they think about the prospect of war and mass murder. "You don't want to start something you can't finish." She's standing now, face to face with Alice, two feet from the table.
"Am I?" She raises her eyebrow.
She nods. "I'd watch your back if I were you."
"Is that a threat?"
"Definitely." She grounds out, glaring. I'm noticing that the whole cafeteria below is starting to catch on to the fact that something is happening, and a low hush is falling over the cafeteria like a wave falling.
"Or you'll do what? Fuck Troy and blacklist me?"
"I can do things you could never imagine."
"Oh I'm sure." She looked over at Troy. "This isn't over."
She smiled, and turned to leave. She hadn't taken a step when Sharpay tripped her, and Alice went down hard onto the cold floor. Her friends went to help her up, and collectively we all glared at each other, sizing each other up while below the cafeteria went silent. I feel like we're having a Grease moment, the T-birds sizing up the Scorpions.
"Bye- bye." She mocks, then turns back to Troy. "Why does she have to be so horrible to me?"
He frowns. "Oh common. She didn't mean anything by it."
They're still fighting when the bell rings.
Through the rest of the day, the news of the faceoff between Alice and Sharpay. I wanted to call out and and tell them all about it, but nobody noticed me before, and I feel a sort of satisfaction on holding the truth above their hands. Besides, they wouldn't ask me anyway. It's not as if they cared. How pathetic right?
When the end of the day finally arrives, I trudge out of the building and toward my old pick up. Really, it was my fathers…before he left. Now it's my own. And although it's a piece of crap, it's the only connection I have to my father. From the driver's seat, I see the gang walk down the stairs. Sharpay, Taylor, and Gabriella's hair blow in the wind perfectly like a damn shampoo commercial. Troy loops an arm around her waist. I watch them like a stalker untill they are lost among the trees in the front of the school—their spot. No one's allowed to join them unless they are invited. And so far, nobody has. Including me. That doesn't mean people can't come over and say hello…shoot the breeze. They can, and a lot of the popular kids do. Even the semi-popular.
It angers me that, even though I've been spending my weekends with them since the seventh grade, I'm still not invited to the spot. It's really bullshit. I hate it. I hit the gas and zoom off. I'm dreading going home, like I always do. But I can't help it. All I can think is that I only have a little while more before I get to leave and never come back. That thought is both gratifying and horrifying. Because I know, that once this year ends, the gang will probably forget me. And then what?
It's then that my plan begins to play in my head.
So…tada? This was fun to write. I hope I got Sharpay and Alice's confrontation pretty well down. And I hope I did a pretty decent job and didn't let anyone down. Please review, and tell me how I did. And if you guys have any suggestions or hints, we'd love to hear em. Till next time.
Julie and Josh.
