Troy, Troy Bolton

5,793. That's how many dots are on the ceiling of Ms. Darbus' classroom; aka "the chapel of the arts." I swear, all the time she's spent in unventilated rooms monitoring the painting of sets has done a number on her brain!

I dread coming to this class everyday. But on the upside, there was only twenty minutes left of this torture. Twenty minutes until winter break and two weeks of freedom. Twenty minutes until I could plunge into the plan I'd been carefully constructing since I'd first discovered The Shadow City last month.

I'd tested the limits on countless occasions and found that nothing short of a marching band and fireworks could bring my parents out of their room before noon on the weekends. So after ditching the befuddled officer, I knew there'd be no chance of getting caught.

I'd quickly washed my clothes, and then began my Saturday morning ritual: chocolate cake for breakfast and R-rated movies. After settling my nerves, I began examining the strange piece I'd found.

Since then, I'd decided that it was a container of some sort. But I still hadn't figured out how to open it.

All I could figure out was that the secret to opening it had something to do with the designs on the pieces. It was like one of those twisting combination locks, or a codex. Except instead of finding the right letter or word combo, I had to find the right picture;

which seemed impossible because the pieces didn't spin normally.

Oh no, having pieces spin horizontally and/or vertically is too easy. So they invented a way to give these pieces the ability to be twisted in any imaginable direction. And the greatest part was that none of the pieces seemed to match up.

But I was convinced that whatever was inside would lead me to the creature that had climbed out of the hole. And it would lead me to the secret underground city.

To say I'd become obsessed would be an understatement. After they'd filled in the hole and erased any traces of the hole's existence, I'd gone into full research mode. I'd gone to every known library and checked out every book that looked somewhat promising. The hundreds of books that filled my room only left a thin pathway between my bed, the door, and bathroom.

But in all those books, I couldn't find anything about secret rooms under the streets of Manhattan. I was crushed to say the very least. But I'm very stubborn and refused to quit.

Now my only lead was this stupid puzzle that I wore as a necklace. It was my only hope.

As Darbus continued her speech, kids began to lose interest. As my classmates began discussing plans to meet up over break, I resorted to trying to open the codex, again.

With fifteen minutes left, the noise got so bad that several neighboring teachers had to be brought in to try to quiet us down. After one left, we'd go right back to how we'd been before. Finally, Headmaster Matsui had to be brought in.

The Headmaster is one of those people you secretly make fun, but who you're absolutely terrified of being anywhere near. As soon as he walked through the door and room went silent.

"Children," he began. "I understand that you're excited for break to begin. But can we at least try to stay civilized for a few more minutes? Why don't we try a little exercise? I'll ask a question, and everyone will give his or her answer."

You can always tell when an adult doesn't know what to do because they always ask the same question, "What do you want to do when you grow-up?" And that's exactly what Matsui asked. Everyone gave answers like doctor, lawyer, and scientist. I was about to fall asleep at my desk when I heard a response that caught my, and everyone else's, attention.

"Excuse young man, could you repeat that please?" Mr. Matsui challenged.

"Dangerous," he repeated without hesitation. "I want to be dangerous," he said repeating every word slowly and precisely, as though he was speaking to a toddler.

I glanced back and saw that the response had come from the figure in black who was hunched over in his seat. His skin was extremely pale, like he hadn't seen the sun in years.

"Young man," he started, "in this school we expect our students to be respectful towards administrators, teachers, and their fellow students. Now, apologize to your peers and answer the question."

Silence.

"Young man did you hear me?"

"Absolutely sir, I just can't give a respectful response," the voice said tauntingly. His head was tilted down so that his sandy brown hair covered his eyes, but you could still see his mouth. And at that moment, his lips where curled up in what appeared to be a smile and revealed a set of perfect, shiny, white teeth.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOUNG MAN?" he thundered.

The boy looked up and gave a crooked smile. His blue eyes sparkled mischievously and seemed to make even Mr. Matsui nervous. "Troy, Troy Bolton."

The room was silent.

"And now, Mr. Matsui, if you don't mind," he paused and smiled in a way that signaled that he really didn't care if Mr. Matsui cared, "I have somewhere to be."

Mr. Matsui began to protest but Troy held up a hand and Mr. Matsui stopped. Slowly Troy's fingers counted down from five and when he'd finished, the bell rang.

He flashed everyone a smile and glided out of the room.

Mr. Matsui brushed of his jacket and, with a huff, exited the room. Students began to stand and file out the room soon after, whispering about the mysterious Troy Bolton.

No one noticed that I was frozen in place and smiling wildly. I wanted to jump on my desk and start singing and dancing around on it.

Why you ask? Because I'd just found my way into the shadows. And it's name was Troy Bolton.