Authors Note: This took me awhile to get out. I just couldn't seem to get it right. Keep in mind i've decided to have Gabriella live with her Grandmother. She calls her mama ling. Not exactly sure where the influence came from but I call my grandmother Mama so maybe that's where. Anyway enough of my blabber. Onto the story. Thank you to all those who review my story and added it on their alert list.

Chapter Two.

Gabriella.

As I hurried down the hallway to my locker, I was in shock. Total, complete shock. I absolutely couldn't believe that Troy Bolton had asked me to go to the dance.

I mean, a guy like Troy Bolton absolutely doesn't ask out girls like me. The shyest, quietest girl in school.

Not that I don't have friends. Although he might have drawn that conclusion when he saw me sitting alone during lunch. I was fairly certain that he hadn't paid much attention to my social habits before today. So he wouldn't know that I ate lunch with Taylor McKessie and Ryan Evans.

But Taylor had an orthodontist appointment during lunch, and I had no idea why Ryan hadn't met me in the cafeteria. Not that meat-loaf surprise was a big draw, but since none of us has cars. . . we don't have the luxury of experiencing off-campus lunch.

My heart was still pounding when I opened my locker to get my books from chemistry class. Why would Troy ask me to the dance? It made no sense. I wasn't in his crowd, I wasn't the cheerleader type, and it wasn't as if we were buds and he just happened to notice I was cute or something.

Which I wasn't. Well, not in the Mena Suvari, Tara Reid, Alyssa Milano way. I was sorta plain and wore glasses and boring clothes. Makeup and fashion just weren't big interests of mine.

Jason Cross was. President of the chess club and the computer club. Just the thought of seeing him in my next class made my heart do this funny little thump. I'd been crushing on him for a little over a year now, even thought I'd never actually spoken to him. I just admired him from afar. I sighed with frustration. I wished that I could get up the courage to talk to him, just once, just a few words

Hey, Jason . . . loved the report you did on the dangers of radiation.

Ah, Gabriella . . .mine wasn't half as impressive as yours on nuclear fusion. I'd love to get together with you some time after school and discuss your research methods.

Yeah, that was the great beginning to an intense conversation that was never going to take place.

I closed my locker, turned, and shrieked. My heart was thundering so hard that they could have used it in the marching band. Troy stood there; leaning against someone else's locker in a way that hinted he had nothing better to do. Like getting to class was not on the top of his priority list.

He was so incredibly hot that I actually found it difficult to keep looking at him. I mean, he was movie-star hot. dark features that hinted at mysterious past. Blue eyes that he kept partially hidden behind lowered lashes so you were always wondering what he thought. He never revealed anything about himself.

So many rumors flew around the school about Troy that you never knew what was true and what wasn't. A different girl every night. Cutting classes. Detention at least three times a week.

Troy Bolton might be every girl's dream at East High, but he'd never been mine. Yeah, he was amazing looking. he looked like he belonged on a motorcycle. But whatever it was that guys like Troy Bolton talked about, I was sure it wasn't anything that I talked about. I mean, what would we possibly have to say to each other? I doubted that Troy was into nuclear fusion. And I knew that I wasn't into cutting school and drinking beer and talking about cars or girls or whatever guys likeTroy talked about

What did guys like Troy talk about? Did they talk?

"It occurred to me," Troy suddenly murmured in a low voice as if he feared someone other then me might hear him, "that you probably didn't realize I was serious about us going to the dance together."

Huh? So he had been serious? Why? I normally wasn't slow on the uptake. My brain was having a total meltdown as he studied me with those blue eyes of his. I was having a hard time figuring out how to respond.

Besides, I was going to be late for class, and I'd never been late to class. It was sort of a pride thing with me. No absences, no tardies. Ever. but I couldn't seem to make my brain engage my mouth, and when I finally spoke, all that came out was a quiet, "Oh."

He stared at me for a second, those incredible eyes a bit confused. "So we're going to the dance," He said. "Right?"

My brain still refused to kick into hear. This whole experience was too weird. Like finding yourself cast in the Blair Witch III.

I wrinkled up my face in total confusion, but it didn't help me think any more clearly. "Uh, sorry, I can't," I managed to push out of my mouth before I rushed past him so I could get to chemistry class and Jason.

I practically flew into the classroom and took my seat. I glanced at my watch. Fifty-five seconds to spare. I cast a furtive glance at Jason, two seats down, one over. he was opening his notebook. He did it so precisely. Like a surgeon. Then he withdrew a pencil from his shirt pocket. he poised his pencil over the blank paper. anticipating the taking of notes. I understood that euphoria. Filtering the words of a teacher's lecture, capturing the key phrases on paper. . .

If only Jason Cross would ask me to the dance!

"What's this I hear about you and Troy Bolton?"

I twisted around with a jerk. Taylor was sitting at the desk beside me. I'd been so absorbed in watching Jason that I hadn't heard her arrive.

I turned red. "What did you hear?"

My best friend-well, best female friend-stared at me like I was from Mars. "Gabi! There's a rumor flying around school that Troy asked you to the dance. It was the first thing I heard the second I got back from my orthodontist appointment. So what are you gonna wear? We have to go shopping! I'm thinking pale pink with a net shawl and . . ."

I loved Taylor. Who else would (a) believe he'd really asked me and (b) assume I said yes and was planning my outfit?

I groaned. "Is there really a rumor going around school?" I asked like an idiot. Anything to do with Troy was news. Some girls who wanted to his attention had designed a Web site devoted to him. Not that I'd ever typed in the URL that would take me to see it. But it was a well-established fact that it existed.

"So it's just a rumor?" Taylor asked. "Everyone's buzzing about it, so I figured it had to be true."

Everyone?

"It's not a rumor," I confessed. "He asked, and, um, I told him no."

Her eyes widened, and she clutched my arm as if she needed a hold on reality. "Wait a minute. I had no idea you even knew him."

"Me either," I whispered. "It was so weird. Totally out of the blue. I couldn't figure it out. He asked me in the cafeteria, I said no, and then a few minutes ago he told me he thought I thought he wasn't serious. And he asked me again! So I told him no . . . again. I'm sure he wasn't serious. It must be some sorta joke."

"Get over yourself, girl," Taylor said. "Your ego is way too big"

I smiled at her joke. "Why else would he ask?"

"Because he likes you!" Taylor replied.

I almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, right. And aliens really go to high school in Roswell."

"He could like you," Taylor insisted.

"Best friends are supposed to say that," I reminded her.

Just as the bell rand, Ryan dropped in the chair beside me. He flinched. He hated being late to class too.

"Where were you during lunch?" I leaned over and whispered while Mr. Griffin began taking roll.

Ryan's cheeks were bright red. "I was in the library, doing my chemistry homework."

I narrowed my eyes. I'd known Ryan forever, and I knew he was as diligent as I was when it came to getting his homework done. No way would he leave an assignment until he last minute.

"Did someone take your homework again?" I demanded. Ryan was always getting picked on by guys at school, guys like Troy. Well, not Troy exactly, but guys in his crowd. Jerks who thought they were so cool that rules and regulations didn't apply to them.

Ryan's face burned a brighter red as he nodded. "but don't worry about it. I remembered the answers, so it was no big deal to redo my homework."

"But you shouldn't have to redo your homework, " I insisted. "Who took it?"

He shook his head.

"Come on, Ryan, tell me who stole your homework. I mean, that's where we're talking about here theft."

Firmly pressing his lips together, he averted his gaze and opened his chemistry book. I knew I"d never pry the name of the culprit from him now. I figured he had some pride.

Mr. Griffin started talking about molecules coming together to form different chemicals. I glanced over at Jason, who was taking notes.

Now, there was a true dream guy.

Jason was incredibly perfect. Unlike Troy, who only wore black t-shirts, Troy wore different colored shirts each day. He had dark hair that kept falling over his brow, and he'd swipe it back like he was seriously irritated with it. I figured it interfered with his note taking ability.

And he had the brownest eyes under his glasses. But what impressed me the most was that he always knew the correct answer, always raised his hand. Math, chemistry, English. He was a whiz at everything. A total genius.

I could imagine that a conversation with him would be so totally engrossing. HE probably knew facts about things that I'd never dared contemplate. To having an evening with Jason, talking about-well, just about anything-would be the ultimate.

It was funny. Ask any girl at East who would be her ultimate date, and she'd say Troy Bolton. I was the only one who'd say Jason Cross. And Troy's the one who asked me out!

Something had to be up.

By the end of the day I was almost famous. I'd gone from invisible nerd to Gabriella of a thousand friends. Well, a thousand schoolmates. Suddenly everyone knew my name. I was the girl who turned down a date to the dance with Troy Bolton. People who never acknowledged my presence were now nodding to me in the hallways. I'd never gotten so many "hey, Gabriella's" in one day in my life.

WIth my backpack slung over my shoulder, I headed for the bus. Today was certainly one for the record books. I still had no idea why Troy wanted to go to the dance with me. All I knew was that I was more then an little suspicious.

Or was Taylor right? Was it possibly that he noticed me and thought I was cute? Or that I was smart and nice?

Yeah, right. Troy Bolton didn't notice stuff like smart and nice.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Troy was walking beside me. I almost tripped over my feet.

"Hey, Gabriella," He said from that perfect, red mouth. "I'll give you a ride home."

I glanced at him, then down to my loafers. What was going on? Little alarm bells went off in my head. Normally I wasn't by nature a suspicious person, but his attention was too weird. There was absolutely no way the guy really liked me. No matter what Taylor might think. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that scenario, that he actually liked me, not for one single second-and I wasn't stupid enough for Troy in the first place.

He had a reputation for being attracted to girls who thought that brains were simply stuffed inside your skull so your head could keep its shape. Cute, hot, and dumb, that was his usual type.

Besides, he made me feel like the total geek I was. I mean, he never had a sandy hair out of place. Had never worn braces but his teeth were perfectly straight. Didn't wear glasses. A zit had never dared appear on his face. He was never slumped over with the weight of a backpack on his shoulders. Did the guy ever engage in the activity of homework?

Add to that the fact that I didn't want anything to do with the type of guy who would pick on Ryan, and I had more then enough reasons to avoid Troy. ANd how did I explain all my well thought out conclusion to him?

Since my voice box seemed to be malfunctioning, I pointed at the bus and ran for it.

When I finally found an empty seat that I could sling myself into, I dared to gaze out the window, Troy stood there, hands on his hips, looking like he'd just encountered someone who'd escaped from an insane asylum.

Well at least I wouldn't have to worry about him talking to me anymore.

Walking through the front door, I immediately smelled the aroma of sweet-and-sour sauce wafting out of the kitchen. My grandmother was cooking dinner along with her afternoon batch of cookies.

I pulled my notebook out of my backpack which I dropped by the door, and headed into the kitchen. My grandmother turned away from the oven and gave me a big smile. "Gabby!"

She hugged me like she hadn't seen me in years, when she'd seen me that morning before I left for school. Mama ling was my mom's mother. Everyone in town called her Mama Ling. She had moved in with me five years ago after my mother and grandfather had died in a car accident.

She missed him so much for a while all she did was sit in a chair and stare out the window or as she'd put it, she watched her memories.

"You talk in such cute phrases," I'd told her back then. "I always think of fortune cookies when you speak."

And that's how Mama Ling's Fortune Cookies got started. She'd taken a course at the community college and learned calligraphy. Which I thought was totally awesome. I mean, my grandmother being a college student. It just proved a person was never too old to do anything she wanted to.

Then she'd started writing her quaint little phrases on tiny slips of paper. She would bake cookies and slip the fortune inside. She only supplied a couple of Chinese restaurants in town, but a lot of people collected her fortunes. Each one was unique.

I kept all her little sayings in a database on my computer. I was constantly amazed that she never repeated herself. She said coming up with her sayings kept her mind sharp.

"Did you have a good day at school?" she asked, her dark eyes bright with love. My granddad had met her when he was in the navy and stationed in the Pacific. She still had a slight accent that Ryan and Taylor found absolutely charming. So did I.

There was something so amazingly warm about being loved and accepted for who you were. Here within my house I was Gabby, granddaughter. Not Gabriella the geek.

"I had an interesting day," I assured her as I sat on a stool at the counter. "I had some time to myself during lunch to write fortunes since Taylor had an orthodontist appointment and Ryan was in the library." I opened my notebook. "See which ones you like."

She climbed onto the stool and furrowed her brow. "So if Taylor and Ryan are busy, you eat alone?"

"Yeah."

"But you have lots of friends," she insisted.

I really didn't want to get into a discussion of my social life or my stunningly nonexistent popularity. I shrugged. "I wanted to work on the fortunes. Some ideas came to me, and I had an incredible urge to write them down before I forgot them."

She grinned at that explanation. "Ah, that I understand completely. To give birth to a phrase is joy."

I smiled. She always talked like she was writing out fortunes. Maybe that was the reason she was able to come up with so many. She'd had a lifetime to collect wise sayings.

I slid the notebook toward her. "So tell me what you think."

She peered through the half-moon glasses that sat perched on the brdge of her nose. MY hands grew damp while I watched her read my words. It was kind of nerve-racking, wondering what she thought, wondering if she liked any of them.

It was a little like wondering what Jason might say if I ever got up the courage to talk to him. As a matter of fact, that was probably the reason I didn't talk to him. I was afraid he'd find my conversation totally lame.

Probably as lame as Troy found it. he was no doubt still standing there, staring at where the bus had been and wondering what was wrong with Gabriella Montez that she couldn't form a sentence that made any sense. Like I cared what he thought anyway.

I didn't, did I?

"Ah, very good," Mama Ling said after what seemed like an hour but was really only a couple of minutes. She touched my notebook. "I like this one. 'She who dreams can touch the stars.'"

I scrunched up my face. "You don't think it's dumb? I mean, you can't really touch the stars. I wanted it to be metaphorical and sorta deep, but not too deep."

"It is perfect," She assured me, squeezing my hand. "Just like you. I will use it."

"Cool!" I exclaimed. Using that word reminded me of my strange encounters with East's Mr. Cool. I furrowed my brow.

"Deep furrows mean deep troubles. What's wrong?" Mama Ling asked softly.

How did I explain this situation to my grandmother when I couldn't even explain it to myself? I twisted on the stool until I faced her. "There's this totally cool guy at school. Troy."

"Troy is a good name. What's he like?" she interrupted.

A question that I knew would be impossible to answer since she apparently didn't know what I meant by cool. How could I describe Troy?

"Well," I began, gnawing on my lip. "He's the guy every girl dreams about. Really gorgeous, with these amazing blue eyes and sandy brown hair, and he only wears black, and when he walks down the halls at school, everyone parts and watches him. He rules East High."

Mama Ling laughed lightly. "But what is he like?" She questioned, tapping her chest. "In here?"

I shrugged helplessly. "Oh, I haven't a clue. I haven't actually spoken to him except for today." That was a major exaggeration. I'm not sure stammering truly qualified as speaking.

"But you said he was cool," she reminded me.

So she had registered my earlier description of him.

"What makes him so cool?" she demanded.

I was totally stumped. "The way he looks, for one thing," I said hesitantly. "The way he walks, like he owns the halls. Everyone knows him. That's cool.

"But those are things that you see, Gabby," she chided softly. "Those are outside things. What is on the inside of this Troy?"

Mama Ling was one of those people who believed beauty is only skin deep and you had to look below the surface. She was always telling me that I was still waters that ran deep. I really didn't understand what that meant. Troy, on the other hand, wasn't still. He was constantly walking around everywhere, getting stopped every second by people saying hi, especially girls. Which seemed kind of shallow to me. "He's busy waters that run shallow?" I guessed.

Mama Lind laughed at that. "I do not think you know him so well. But still you like him?"

"Oh no," I assured her. "I mean, I don't not like him. Like you pointed out, I don't really know him all that well. And he doesn't know me at all. And that's what makes what happened today so totally weird. He asked me to go to the dance with him this Saturday night."

My grandmother's face lit up like a Japanese lantern, all soft and muted. "I will give you a manicure," She announced.

"Oh no, I'm not going. I told him no."

"Why?" she asked, looking not only completely baffled but disappointed as well.

I was actually sorry that I didn't have a date for the dance. But if I was going to go with anyone, I wanted to go with Jason. And the chances of him asking me were as slim as . . . well, until this afternoon I would have said that they were as slim as Troy asking. Still, I didn't hold out any hope that Jason would suddenly go insane as well. "I said no to Troy because I couldn't figure out why someone from the 'cool' club would ask me out."

She tsked and rolled her eyes as if the answer was as obvious as the nose on my face. "Because you are very pretty and very, very interesting."

I realized that I should have seen that explanation coming. She was my grandmother, for goodness' sake. She was going to seem me as no one else did. Perfect in every way.

But me, I knew the truth. There was something fishy behind a cool guy asking a nerd to the dance. That was simply the way our school was. There were the cool kids and the nerds. Yeah, there were variations in between, but basically there were the two groups. Troy and I were in different ones.

As I watched Mama Ling remove her latest batch of fortune cookies from the oven, I wished that I had more courage. I wished that I had just asked Troy why. Why are you asking me to the dance?

But there was no way that I could force that many words out of my mouth when I was talking to any guy other then Ryan.

And maybe I didn't really want to know the truth. Didn't want to hear Troy Bolton, coolest of the cool, tell me that just as I had suspected, I was part of his be-kind-to-nerds personality-improvement project.

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