AN: Well, here I am, FINALLY with another chapter on this thing. I really love this story and I'm hoping to be able to do more work on it soon, but for now, just enjoy this chapter. Crazy stuff goes down! haha And guess what, I don't not own!

Chapter 4

"Dahm ring," Kelsi cursed when the chord she'd tried to hit on her guitar went sour because the untouched bottom string had become, well, touched by her jewelry.

"Why do you insist on wearing that ugly thing?" Sharpay asked, patronizingly setting her purse on one of the desks across from Kelsi.

"Because it's an amazing fashion statement," Kelsi answered. "Duh."

"Yeah, yeah," Sharpay said, rolling her eyes, and looking over to where the other Evans was entering the drama room. "Ryan, get over here."

"Yes, ma'ma," he said, more sarcasm in his voice than Kelsi's. He took a seat next to his sister. "Where's the Darb?"

"She'll be here in a little bit," Kelsi told him. "She wanted me to show you guys my idea for the next musical."

"That was a slightly reluctant statement." Sharpay commented, propping her feet up on the chair in front of her. "Are you being forced to do this?"

"Well," Kelsi said, "now that you mention it, yes, I am. If I don't do it this year, I don't get my college recommendation. So will you, please, just sit there, and shut your mouth so that I can do my job."

Sharpay's mouth came open. Ryan chuckled. Kelsi motioned them over to the piano were all her supplies and notes were spread out.

"Here Sharpay, sing this," she said, pointing to a point on her sheet music. "This is one of many, I don't know if you'd call them famous, songs that I'm going to meld together to make this new story," she enlightened them unenthusiastically. Sharpay took her usual place next to her on the bench.

"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, I'm begging of you, please don't take my man," she sang with Kelsi playing along with her, "Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Please don't take him just because you can. Your beauty is beyond compare—"

"Halt!" Sharpay said, standing up the middle of her performance. "In the name of good music!"

"What's wrong now, Sharpay?" an irate Kelsi grumbled.

"What the hell was that?"

"Uh, a song."

"Yeah, I got that," Sharpay said, voice laced with scorn. "What the heck was that song?"

"That would be 'Jolene,'" Ryan inserted all-knowingly into the discussion, "a song originally recorded by one Miss Dolly Parton in 1973. The most recent cover was released by the fantastic White Stripes on their live album 'Jolene (Under the Liverpool Lights)' in November 2004. Also—"

"We get it Ryan, thank you," Kelsi stopped him, closing her sheet music and standing up. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Um… the fact that it is stupid country crap that I will never ever let enter any one of my productions here at East High," Sharpay said.

"Your productions," Kelsi said. "Excuse me for thinking these were still put on by the Drama Club. You're going to have get used to this 'stupid country crap' because Ms. Darbus had already approved this show."

As if on cue, the drama teacher entered the room with her usual flourish.

"Ah, Kelsi, how is the presentation going?" she asked, her face falling at the sight of her composer and her star in each other's faces.

"Apparently, not very well," Ryan said after a moment of awkward silence.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Ms. Darbus said to the three teenagers in front of her.

"This show is going to be absolutely disastrous if you go a long with what this little twit is planning on doing," Sharpay explained.

"This show is going to be perfectly fine," Kelsi defended herself. "You said yourself, Ms. Darbus, that turning country classics into a new show would be a great idea."

"I know I did, Miss Nielsen," she admitted reluctantly, "but to tell you the truth after thinking about it for a few days, I don't know if it is such a good idea."

Sharpay clapped her hands together, squealing triumphantly. Kelsi dropped her face.

"But, why Ms. Darbus?" she croaked out.

"Miss Nielsen, I understand that there is definitely a audience for that genre. But you have to understand that while our productions are unorthodox, they are geared towards a teenage audience. Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, and Dolly Parton are just not going to cut it."

"But, Ms. Darbus, I was planning on revising the songs a little so that I could oblige the pop music tastes and have them fit a more contemporary sort of genre."

"Well, if you were already planning changing the music, why don't you just compose a whole new set of songs?" Ms. Darbus suggested.

Kelsi sighed deeply. This was the last place she wanted to be right now.

"The only reason I came up with the idea was so I didn't have to do that," Kelsi said, ignoring the smug look Sharpay was giving her at that moment. "I've got so much on my plate right now with work and school and… stuff that I just don't have time to compose a whole new musical. Either you accept what I've given you, or I walk."

"We both know you can't afford to do that," Ms. Darbus said, staring straight into her eyes.

Kelsi heaved another huge sigh, regretting ever confiding in the woman standing in front of her. She knew too much to argue with.

"Whatever," she said, picking up her books and striding out of the room.

"I don't what I'm going to do with that girl," Ms. Darbus said as the door swung shut behind the distressed adolescent.

"Well, Ms. Darbus, you know what the Big A can do to a person," Sharpay said cheekily, picking up her stuff as well. "Let's go Ryan, I have to meet Zeke."

The twins finally departed, and the teacher took a deep breath as she looked closely at the music sitting before her.

"You sincerely have no idea, do you Miss Evans?" she said to herself.

Kelsi wrenched open her locker and tossed her remaining books inside. "The nerve of her!" she screamed in her mind. "How could she do that? These are my shows! She doesn't have my talent. I don't see her working her ass off every day trying to compose good enough music so the masses can enjoy. Ok, not masses, but East High is hard enough to impress. She wants to change my show! Give me more work! What's so far up her butt that she can't even understand my situation anymore. Teach me teach! Let me do my work the way that I know how, and this point, this is the only way I know how."

She had an urge to punch her locker. It would let go of all the pent-up anger inside of her, but just before she drew her fist back, Chad slipped up behind her.

"Hey, baby girl," he said. "Why the long face?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, sliding down her locker to the floor.

"You're lying to me, Kels," he said.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You just slid down the wall like they do in all those sad movies."

Kelsi looked around her, and figured out how bad she looked right now. Her music was stuffed in her locker, which would barely keep shut, she had strewn herself out like a rag doll, and her boyfriend was standing above pointing out what was wrong. Again.

"My musical has, for the most part, been denied," she admitted.

"Oh geez," Chad said, dropping his book bag. "The Darb blew you off?"

"No, not exactly," she said, and explained to him what had gone down in the music room.

"But you've already been working on the stuff, so why should it be so hard for you to make new music?" Chad asked.

"Oh my gosh," she said. "You too?"

"Well, they do have a point there, Kelsi," he said. "We all though it was weird that you were going in the direction you were when you could have easily done what you used to do just like you did before."

"What do you mean used to?" she asked.

"Kelsi, we all know you can get a show on paper like that," he said, snapping his fingers, "but when it comes to getting the music all you need is a little push. I could give you that push, you know."

"But using the old songs were so much easier!" Kelsi said, rolling her head away from her guy. "I didn't have to do much to them besides get new instruments, and then I would've had more time at the café and you and all would be good at East High again."

"Kelsi, I am sure Catrina would have no problem with you working on your breaks," Chad explained to her. "And as far as I'm concerned, don't worry about it. I have basketball to worry about, and anyway, the few hours that I get with you every day are completely fine with me. You need to do what you love, without the stress. Calm down."

"Alright," she said, pushing a smile up. "I have to get to work. Will I see you at home?"

"I'll stop by work after practice," he said. He gave her a quick kiss goodbye in the empty hallway, and she got up and left. And all Chad was left with was an empty feeling of having to go to basketball practice.

"Alright, boys," Jack Bolton yelled to the rows of teenage boys standing in front of him. "Linebacker stance!"

"Defense!" their voices aggressively chorused back to him as they hit their defensive position.

"Right foot forward," the coach commanded. "Mark time."

The gym erupted in the sound of feet tapping on the gym floor. Coach Bolton blew his whistle, and pointed to the right. The lines of basketball players moved simultaneously in a diagonal line to the right. He blew the whistle again, and pointed to the left. The team swung their feet around and progressed the opposite direction. One more shrill sound emanating from the front of the gym caused the guys to sprint forward and land together in front of their coach.

"Ok, good job, boys," Coach Bolton said, dropping his whistle finally. "Now, I'm just reminding you that our next game this Friday is the big one. We're up against Magnolia High School, the biggest, baddest bunch of basketball players in the Southwest. They have a perfect record so far this season, but you know what? I don't care. We're making it to States this year no matter what they say. Now who's with me?"

"YEAHHHHHHHH!!!" the panting adolescents whooped and hollered.

"Alright then," he continued. "Now I'll remind you that I've called in some scouts from some big universities. I sure all of you will play your hardest to try and impress them, but don't over shadow each other. We still have to play as a team. Unity will help us succeed. And Troy, I'm counting on you to show those scouts what good players we have here. They're going to be watching you in particular, so make me proud."

"Yes, sir," Troy saluted him. "I'll do my best."

"Ok, good practice, team. Hit the showers."

The team separated from their coach and headed off toward the locker room. It'd been a long practice. They were exhausted and Chad was no exception, but still, that didn't stop him from pushing the cart of basketballs to the center of the floor and shooting around.

"Hey Chad, ever heard of something called relaxation?" Troy yelled to him.

Chad ignored him and put up another shoot.

"Come on, man, he said hit the showers."

"So what, are you mad at me now?" Troy asked.

Chad brought down the ball he was about to throw.

" 'I'm counting on you to show those scouts what good players we have here,' " he quoted Troy's dad.

"What are you getting at?" Troy asked incredulously.

Chad played with the basketball in his hands.

" 'They're going to be watching you in particular.' "

"So, my dad's a dick," Troy laughed. "What else is new?"

"Let me translate some things for you," Chad said, dropping the ball and walking up to him. " 'Don't over shadow each other.' Don't over shadow Troy. 'We still have to play as a team.' We still have to make Troy look like a rock star. 'Unity will help us succeed.' Do what I tell you so my son can succeed, he's the only one the matters. Shall I go on, Golden Boy?"

"I can't help it if my dad wants me to be a high achiever," Troy said, stepping away from his confronter.

" 'Yes, sir. I'll do my best.' "Chad said mockingly.

"What is your problem, man?" Troy asked confused.

"Nothing. Just- you don't have to encourage him, Troy. Coach is only focused on your well-being, and, I don't know if you know this, but I actually need this more than you."

"Need what?"

"Scholarships, college money, to be noticed by scouts," Chad exclaimed.

"Really, that's what this is all about?" Troy said, taken aback. "You think I'm over-shadowing your chances of getting into school."

"Yes."

"Remember what I said about being seventeen with rich parents?" Troy inquired jokingly.

"Oh, great!" Chad said. "With the parents again."

"Chad, what is your problem?"

"What is it going to take," he said, "to get it through your thick skull that I don't need to rely on my parents anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't matter. I hardly talk to them anymore."

"Oh, so you're saying you're attempting to separate yourself from your parents as much as possible so you can feel like a man— just as every other teenager does."

"Yes," Chad admitted. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"You don't make any sense," Troy said.

"And to you, it doesn't matter if I do or not."

"Listen, Chad," Troy preached," you're a good player— you have the some of the best three-pointers I've ever seen— but you don't need to fret about small things like getting into school. This is our senior year. We need have fun. You need to stop comparing yourself to me because you're only going to be disappointed. I'm your best friend, Chad, listen to me."

"Why should I?"

"Because, I'm looking out for you."

Troy hadn't been able to see the best friend he'd known all his life in a long time. The funny, loving twinkle that always existed in Chad's eyes was gone. All those thoughts and reasons why came rushing into Troy's head when Chad decided to break eye contact.

"Yeah," he said poking him in the chest, "well that means nothing because you're just a selfish, conceded, little S-O-B."

Chad walked away. Troy would've knocked out his lights out right then and there if he hadn't. Not because he was mad, but because he just wanted him to understand.

"Oh, yeah," Troy called after him. "Well, at least I don't keep secrets from my friends."

Chad stopped in his tracks.

"Your question earlier," he continued, "about your parents. Maybe by giving me an actual reason I'll finally understand."

Chad closed his eyes. He could tell him. He could admit everything that had happened to him over the past year— every reason why he was distant, every reason why his parents weren't around him anymore, every single reason why.

"Nothing I say to you will ever make you understand," he held back. "All you've ever cared about your entire life is basketball, and girls and whatnot. Those used to my priorities, but News Flash, Troy, not anymore."

He paused and took a deep breath of regret. He'd kept it all inside.

"That's very respectable of you. I understand that you're close with Kelsi now, and that you don't want to screw things up for your future, but Chad, I'm still your friend. I just want to know what's going on with you."

"Please, keep Kelsi out of this," Chad demanded.

"That's what you're worried about?" Troy asked in disbelief, "me bad-mouthing Kelsi? Chad, I'm not the one that does that, trust me."

"I believe you," Chad said honestly, but suddenly he went serious. "But I don't need you fake sympathy or worry because I can handle myself."

"I—" he paused. "I just want to make sure your ok."

"I know you do," Chad said.

Troy picked up the basketball lying next to him, and tossed it to Chad.

"Take a break on those threes," he said. "You need some rest. You shouldn't wear yourself out before the next game."

Chad took the ball, and set another swoosh through the hoop.

"Three points," his teammate said. "That's scholarship material."

"You only care about yourself, Troy."

Chad stormed out of the double doors at the end of the gym, his last statement echoing in Troy's mind.

"I fucked up, dude," he said after a while to the man that wasn't there. "I thought we were past all that, but, I guess not."

"Have a nice day, sir," Kelsi said through gritted teeth as she handed change to the man in front of her.

"Four times," she complained to Catrina, who was busy filling up multiple cups of coffee next to her. "He sent the latte back four times because I didn't get the foam right. And did he tip me? No."

"Calm down, and get used to it, honey," her boss said, placing a top on a cup.

"I know and I'm sorry," Kelsi said, starting to stack some muffins inside a box, "but I don't need to deal with stupid little stuff when I have other work to do."

"That's true," Catrina said as she picked up a stack of cups, "but guess what? People suck!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said, closing the lid and moving on to another box.

"I have arrived!" Chad exclaimed as he entered the doors.

"Dork," Catrina said, shaking her head as Kelsi went out to meet him.

"You know you miss me, Catrina," he said.

"Didn't you say you were wanting to work, oh faithful employee of mine?"

"Ah yes, I did. Looks like duty calls," she said. She whispered as she pulled Chad in close, "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

Chad took a seat in front of the counter as Kelsi resumed her task of putting an array of muffins into different boxes.

"What's with the array of baked goods and java?" Chad asked after watching them a while.

Both Kelsi and Catrina groaned very loudly.

"Sensitive subject," he remarked.

"Absolutely," they said together again.

"Well," Chad said, slipping off his seat and picking up his bag, "then I think I'll leave you two at that, and sneak back into the break room to see if I can catch a few winks."

"Oh no, you are not!" Kelsi exclaimed.

"I was just kidding," he said sheepishly. "I just want to go see what's in the vending machine."

"Thanks for the offer of help," Catrina yelled as he walked away.

He gave her the peace sign and disappeared down the hall.

"I swear, I'm gonna start charging him entry fees to go into that break room," the manager said.

Kelsi chuckled in acknowledgement.

"—And next time the bank wants to have a fully stocked board meeting, they better tell me a frikin week in advance so I can get everybody on shift."

"Hey, Catrina, guess what? People suck!" Kelsi quipped.

"And, they'll live!" Catrina said, grabbing a box of muffins and fake-stomping to the back.

The bell at the front of the room sounded, signaling that they had a customer.

"Hey, Kels, can you serve him?" Catrina shouted over her shoulder.

"Sure," she said, picking up a towel and wiping her hands. "Can I help you—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

"— sir," she finished, dropping her towel.

The man standing in front of her was tall, elegant, and heavyset. He had dark skin, a reseeding hairline, and was wearing a clean gray suit. And his face was all too familiar to Kelsi.

"Why yes ma'ma, you can," he said. "I was wondering if you could help me find my son."

At that same moment, Chad came back from the break room, oblivious to the new addition to the shop.

"Catrina begged me to carry a box," he grumbled.

Kelsi looked at her guy, very ill at ease.

"What's wrong Kels?" he asked, following her gaze. "Wait—" he said, "Dad?"

Dun, dun, dunnnn!