Baby for Sale
Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.
Previously on Baby for Sale...
"Sorry for the delay, Miss Evans. Let's proceed, shall we?"
Chapter 6: Life Goes On
Four weeks later...
Maybe if I just don't move... Sharpay is lying with her head resting on the cool marble floor of her luxurious private bathroom. However, right now she doesn't care that the floor is made from imported Italian marble or that the shower has six different massaging heads that vigorously massage your body at the custom heat setting of your choice. Right now, all she cares about is doing something or nothing (if that will work) that will stop her stomach from churning. She's lost count of the number of mornings she's awoken like this --- heaving the meager contents of her stomach into the porcelain goddess.
Two weeks after the procedure with Dr. Matsui, she and Cynthia returned to verify her pregnancy. Dr. Matsui seemed strangely certain she was pregnant even before the blood test verified it. Therefore, here she is now, two weeks after that, puking her guts out every blasted morning.
Should this be happening so soon? I'm only six weeks pregnant, right? Four weeks since the implantation and add two more weeks because ... because that's the goofy way they count pregnancies. Cynthia seems to think it's a little early. And Cynthia would know, wouldn't she? Oh, quit complaining Sharpay, she's nice to you, isn't she? Maybe a little too nice ... a little too hovering - like a hummingbird. At least she's better than the husband ... ewww ... Thomas is ... well, just plain creepy.
Despite Sharpay's initial attraction to him, which lasted all of five minutes, she now finds Thomas' leering very disturbing. Admit it, girl, it was his eyes. They look just like...
Sharpay collapses down on his chest in sated exhaustion.
"My eyes?", she mumbles into his shoulder. "There's nothing special about my eyes. They're just plain old brown. You're the one with the beautiful eyes."
They are still connected in that most imitate way and she raises herself up on her elbows in order to gaze down at said gorgeous eyes. He looks up at her, but doesn't say anything.
Sharpay continues her adoration of his eyes. "They sparkle and shine like crystals. When I stare into them, it's like I'm looking into bottomless pools of blue heaven", she says with a dreamy sigh.
He cracks a smile at that last comment.
"Let me guess... your favorite class in school is creative writing."
"Oh you! What a way to ruin a hokey moment! I'll get you!" With that she sits up, but remains straddle above him and starts to viciously tickle him in the ribs.
"Hey! No fair!", he shouts back between his very unmanly-like giggles.
Despite feeling ill, Sharpay lets a small smile come to her face when she remembers how cute NotChad looked when she tickled him.
"Sharpay? ... Are you okay?", comes a concerned voice at the bathroom door.
Oh no, it's The Hummingbird. Please don't come in here. Please...
The door opens and Cynthia says, "Oh, you poor dear. Let's get you back to bed."
Cynthia comes rushing toward Sharpay and tries to lift her up.
"No! Please, don't move me. I'm fine right where I am", she pleads to the older woman while still keeping her eyes closed.
"Nonsense, Sharpay. Now I'm just going to help you up..."
Cynthia pulls Sharpay up to a sitting position and starts to lift her up further when she gets a good look at Sharpay's face and steps back just in time for Sharpay to throw up on her $200 Prada shoes.
Ten minutes later, Cynthia is nowhere to be seen and Sharpay is splashing cool water on her face from the nickel plated custom designed faucet which feeds into the uber-expensive clear-glass water basin. There is a terse rap on the door.
I know that knock.
"Come in", Sharpay groans.
"I've been sent to tidy up, Miss Evans", announces an incredibly stiff man dressed in a dark three-piece suit and tie. He is a pudgy middle-aged man with small wire-rimmed glasses covering his small beady eyes.
"Good morning to you too, Fulton."
"That's Mr. Fulton, if you please", Fulton corrects her.
"Whatever... anyway, I've already cleaned everything ... except for Cynthia's shoes", Sharpay explains as she walks past Mr. Fulton and into the bedroom.
Unfortunately, Fulton follows her out.
"Mrs. Vanderbilt", Fulton says, implying, once again, that Sharpay should not be calling his employer by her first name, "has already disposed of her footwear. They weren't recoverable."
"It's her own fault; I told her not to move me."
"Look! Miss Evans!", Fulton exclaims in an exasperated tone, "I think you should be more appreciative of your benefactor. The fact that Mrs. Vanderbilt feels a certain camaraderie with you because you are both 'in the family way' is no reason for you to take advantage of the situation. Mrs. Vanderbilt continues to show what an upstanding woman she truly is by taking you in --- a homeless unwed mother."
Cynthia's cover story for Sharpay is that she is a poor, indigent girl whom the Vanderbilts have graciously allowed into their lives. Because Mrs. Vanderbilt is pretending to be pregnant, it makes her unexpected philanthropy more believable. That's one of the reasons that Sharpay is starting to dislike all of Cynthia's hovering. She's actually studying Sharpay so that she can more accurately carry off this fake pregnancy. For instance, when Sharpay complained that the smell of coffee made her nauseous, Cynthia dutifully stopped drinking the beverage and made a big show of how ill it made her feel at her ladies charity luncheon.
"Get out of my room, now!", Sharpay shouts back at Fulton.
He is so surprised by her outburst that he nearly trips as he stumbles back towards the door. Sharpay stalks towards him and Fulton quickly scrambles out into the hallway. She slams the bedroom door shut behind him and lets out a frustrated scream. Then, she runs across the room and dives onto the large king-sized bed so she can continue to scream into her pillow.
Six weeks down ... thirty-four to go.
HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM
Troy quickly cuts in front of Chad and steals the basketball from him and then, dribbles it a few steps before shooting from an absurdly long distance toward the basket. Everyone stops suddenly to follow the flight of the ball with their eyes. Half-a-second later all you hear is the swoosh as the ball lands in the basket without even touching the rim.
"Yeeeaah!", shouts Troy in triumph, "nothing but net, man!"
Troy's teammates run up to give him high-five congratulations on the final shot of the game. Troy is basking in the glory of his victory. It doesn't matter that it's only a Sunday afternoon pick-up game. It's still a victory. Suddenly, he is nearly bowled over by an unknown assailant who wraps their arms tightly around his middle and squeals in an unearthly-high pitch directly into his ear.
"Oh Troy, that was wonderful, baby", shouts an exuberant dark-haired girl.
"Gi Gi, let the man breath, why don't you?", Chad offers in defense of his friend.
She pulls away from Troy and her eyes narrow to dangerous slits as she exclaims, "I told you to stop calling me that, Chad!"
"Calm down, Gabriella. You know he just says that because he knows it bothers you", Troy says in calm voice while signaling a silent 'thanks' to Chad for the interference.
"Okay, I'll try ... for you, baby", Gabriella says in a sultry voice as she drapes herself onto Troy.
"Gabriella, please. You don't want to touch me; I'm really sweaty."
"But I like sweaty, baby. It's a real turn-on", she coos as she rubs her body against his.
He gently, but firmly, takes her arms and puts them down by her side.
"Please, not now", he says with conviction.
"Then, when? You haven't let me near you for over a month. What's going on, Troy? I thought we had something special. I thought you were my 'happy ever-after'. What's changed? Have you found someone else?"
"I ... I don't know", Troy stumbles, "It's complicated."
"Then, until you can uncomplicate it, I don't think I want to see you anymore. So goodbye, Troy Bolton. Have a miserable life!", Gabriella shouts and then, turns around and storms off.
Chad walks up to comfort his friend.
"Well, that went better than I thought."
"Yeah, me too", Troy sighs in relief.
TBC
Here's what I have to say about that...
I'm so glad that most of you understand all about pregnancies now since you've read Unlove You, so I won't have a rehash how can she be six weeks pregnant, four weeks after the implantation.
Lots of people are speculating on the plot in their reviews. Well, you're just going to have to wait awhile to find out.
Couldn't resist making Fulton the butler. He just has that stuck-up butler look to him.
