Amazing Grace

Old Fiat

Thank you all for your reviews! I love all of them. :D

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

Chapter 4: Between You and Me

Gabriella sighed and, trying to push away the thoughts screaming at her about the attractiveness of the boy in front of her, attempted to look disdainful.

"Oh," she said and her voice shook a little. "Hey."

He just looked at her for a few minutes, expression blank and eyes cold. Finally, he blinked and smirked.

"You're that klutzy new girl, right?"

Gabriella felt the blood rush to her cheeks but was determined not to break eye contact. "Yeah, I-I guess."

Troy laughed, his smirk becoming a grin. "You know, you're not supposed to actually tell the truth with that kind of question." She felt her face grow hotter and thanked God her cheeks were too dark to show when she was blushing. It was then that Gabriella saw he had been pulling behind him a janitor's cart.

"Why do you have that?" she asked, gesturing at the cart and trying to change the subject.

"I have to clean some of the halls and club rooms," he said, smirk back in place but his eyes becoming a little cold again, "as a punishment for beating up some moron."

Gabriella felt anger flare inside her. She hadn't felt a hatred this strong for a long time, but it burned in her chest, pushing against her skin, begging to be released.

"That 'moron' was a friend of mine," she said, voice hard.

He snorted. "Sorry," he said, sarcastically. "He was just being an idiot."

"Just leave," she said and turned back to the computer. He, of course, ignored her and continued into the room, emptying the trash from the waste baskets into the bag attached to the cart. She sighed and tried to go back to studying, but for some reason it was a lot more difficult knowing Troy was in the room. She hunched over her notepaper as he began cleaning under the desks around the room with the brush and dustpan in silence.

A good fifteen minutes passed with the two remaining resolutely silent. Until finally, Troy spoke.

"So what are you studying?"

"None of your business," Gabriella snapped back, keeping her eyes on the screen. "And who says I'm studying?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who goes to..." He glanced over her shoulder. "...Scholastic Study Guide dot Com for fun."

She gritted her teeth together and didn't respond, fuming silently.

"Look," he said, standing to her right and leaning against the white plaster wall, and, amazingly, she found herself suddenly looking into his bright blue eyes, hypnotized and frozen in their cool depths. "I apologize about your friend Evans, okay. I... I shouldn't have done that. I'm going to their house this weekend to apologize... personally. I also shouldn't have spoken to you just now. I'm sorry."

It was a lie, of course. Troy had always been a brilliant liar, but she didn't need to know the truth—that he felt no guilt for what he had done and any apology the Evanses received that weekend would be a false expression of repentance. Hopefully he would be able to fool them as well as he appeared to be fooling the girl beside him.

Gabriella struggled to find the words to speak. Her mouth opened and closed, but she was still trapped under his gaze. His eyes was impossible to look away from. They were cold, but warm; steady, yet quickly shifted with his emotions. The color of the iris could've been described as clear, but it was impossible to call them that. They were cloudy, opaque as though a wall had been built up behind the pupil to keep out intruders. It was unnerving, yet impossible to look away from.

She blinked, shivering slightly. "What? Yeah, yeah... uh..." Her vocal chords had been freed but now she wasn't quite sure what to say. " You, um... You should go apologize to Ryan. That was... that was really out of line." She looked at him again. His face was serious, his mouth slightly tensed at the corners. Suddenly, he grinned. She moaned inwardly at the sight.

"Well, I appreciate your advice..." He looked at her, smile growing broader as he struggled to remember her name.

"Gabriella," she finished for him. "My name is Gabriella Montez."

"Mine's Troy Bolton," he said, trying to suppress his laughter.

"I know," she said, looking back and the computer.

"Oh, you know!" he teased, raising one eyebrow. "So, have you been asking people about me?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Tell me, Troy—have they ever measured your ego? I bet its volume is quite close to that of the sun."

"What about the volume of that chip on your shoulder? I bet it's close to the size of my ego!"

"Oh my God..." she groaned. "How about you just go back to cleaning. That was a terrible comeback."

Troy laughed and, amazingly, turned away to continue sweeping the floors. Gabriella resumed studying, still fuming but not saying anything. Another fifteen minutes passed and she finally relaxed, almost forgetting the boy in the room with her.

"How's it going, Gabriella Montez?"

She jumped, frightened.

"Oh my God!" she half-shouted, looking furious. "Don't do that!" But he was already laughing too hard. When he finally recovered, he looked over her shoulder at the screen.

"Oh... exciting..." he said, nodding and looking at the web page. "Tell me, why are you using the school computer instead of one at home? Or do your parents not have one?"

She sighed and set down her pencil, pushing her thick dark hair out of her face. "The wireless still hasn't been installed in my house yet and it'll take a few more weeks for them to fix it. Why won't you leave me alone?"

He ignored her question, but moved back slightly and looked her up and down a few times.

"You know, you'd look a lot hotter if you wore real people clothes."

She spun around on the chair, shocked. "What do you mean 'real people clothes'?"

"Well..." He approached her again and ran his thumb along the collar of her crisp, pale yellow polo and looked down at her white button-up sweater and brown corduroy's. "No offense or anything—"

"Which means I will be a offended," she interrupted, scowling.

"— you dress kind of like... a middle-aged secretary or a CEO."

"What?"

"You do! You and... What's-Her-Face always look like politicians or... business executives, not... people."

"Politicians and business executives are people."

"Yeah," Troy shrugged and chuckled, "But they're not... I mean, no one naturally chooses to dress like them. They only to because an advisor told them too or they bought fifty suits before they went to their first job interview."

"How would you rather have me dress?" Gabriella asked sarcastically.

"Like... Some one your own age, maybe?"

"So," Gabriella spun around in the chair and stood up, jaw clenched, her face tilted up, her nose just a few inches from his own. "You want me to start dressing like everyone else at school? No effort put into looking professional, just into looking hot or whatever? I'm not like that, Troy Bolton. I'm not aiming to be your next bimbo. I aim to be a professional person. I think a lot about what I'll be doing in the future and none of them include—"

"What is with you?" he asked incredulous. "Look, chill. I'm just trying to make conversa—"

"Aren't there other rooms you have to clean?" she interrupted. She hated how weak she had become earlier and was now trying to keep her head level and her face steely. She didn't normally act this rude, but she couldn't help it with him. She hated him. She hated the way he was so appealing, but such a... such a... idiot. She hated the way he... he...

His eyes became cold yet he continued to smile.

"No," he said evenly, keeping her eyes locked in his gaze. "I made sure to leave this one for last. To... save the best for last."

"What a compliment," she said coolly.

The two of them stood there for a few minutes, just staring at each other, daring the other to look away first. Gabriella's smooth, tanned hands were balled into fists, a vein throbbing near her wrist. Troy's arms hung loose at his sides, his face impossible to read. She looked up into his face and saw an impassive visage, impenetrable eyes and a fallen smile. Her teeth were still ground together, her lips slightly pursed. He breathed deeply, trying to stifle the feeling inside him.

"You're the kind of man I hate the most," she said finally. There was no emotion in her voice, only fury blazing behind her eyes. "You don't care about anyone and you punish everyone else for your own faults. I spent sixteen years of my life with a man like you, keeping my mouth shut and never saying what I thought, but I'm not wasting any time with you. You're a bastard, Troy. You're just trying to score with me and you know what? I'm not falling for it. Don't speak to me again until you can act like a human being."

She then, as she had the day before, gathered up all her things, shut down the computer and left without saying another word to the boy who still stood, frozen from her speech.

=-----=-----=

Troy jammed the key in the ignition of his truck and pulled quickly out of the school.

What was wrong with him?

He careened down the streets at least ten miles above the speed limit. His heart pounded against his ribs and he was still trying to catch his breath.

There had only been two girls at school who actually hated him so totally and completely— Sharpay and... that one... what ever her name was. Sharpay had had a reason and that other girl was a friend of hers so she probably hated him because Sharpay had told her what had happened.

But Gabriella had no reason! His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles growing whiter each second. That friend of Sharpay had hung around her a bit, but that she wouldn't have told. Sharpay wouldn't have let her told. She'd been too embarrassed by what had happened.

Troy clenched his teeth harder and harder, speeding down the road, signs going by in a blur. He couldn't even see the other cars.

Gabriella...

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, it couldn't even be hidden by her nasty prep-school uniform-inspired clothes, but he had seen plenty of beautiful girls before, but he had never encountered this feeling. That tightness in his chest when he had stared into her big brown eyes.

His tires screeched as he pulled into the driveway of his house, his chest rising and falling as he fought to reel back in his temper. He rested his forehead against the wheel, never closing his eyes.

It couldn't be...

It was impossible...

It wasn't real...

He stared down at his knees, mulling over the torrent of the thoughts swirling around inside his head. He needed to calm down. What was he supposed to do?

Well, he knew one thing— he had to speak to her again the next day, no matter what.

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

I know this chapter is shorter than usual, but... I felt uncomfortable making it longer.

My at-least-five-reviews threat still stands. Please, just tell me what you think. I'm sorry this took a while. My headmistress had me helping with the script for next term's school play, but I finally got the time.

Thanks!

-OFsI