chapter 9
(Penmanship and Wedding Gifts)
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He was lying more, but Rachel didn't notice.
The wedding was two weeks away—something had to go wrong.
The cake was a soft mix of honey and chocolate; a mist of white and blue brushed over its surface, with long boulevards of roses and golden leaves fading at each corner. The five tiers of cake, each with its own set of roses and gold and frills and lace, towered skyward, proud and delicious.
There were four more just like it.
Rachel was ecstatic, Chad didn't care, and the Flora Tristan Bakery was extremely pleased with its full wallet.
Bakery goods proved the amusing disaster the Danforth wedding would easily survive. Lucrecia Mott Gourmet Bakery had not only designed all five cakes three weeks before the wedding, they had accidentally sent them to Marc Anthony's house on the assumption that Chad Danforth's wedding was being held there; needless to say, a very confused Jennifer Lopez and a whole lot of paparazzi would be eating honey chocolate cake for the the next few months.
A rush job of cakes created the gorgeous five tiered dream cake Rachel—and every other girl and her Barbie—had always wanted. The tester cake was due today, and thankfully it was a flying success.
By the end of the session, Chad was slightly sick of cake and flowers, and Rachel and fifty other women were reviewing seating arrangements. As was tradition amongst the rich, Chad's wedding had been planned months ago, but even with the last few days so close, planners and assistants and caterers would not, or could not, leave the sketch of the wedding day alone.
Chad made an awkward sigh before turning to a window. The weather had gotten over its cold: sunshine and all that jazz, a breeze somewhere, and he was certain he heard birds. People were busy with walking and cell phones and company, passing by the window without realizing they were being watched. A little girl in a red coat, a woman with a dog and her assistant, a man commuting to a distant city for work/adultery/space. Chad, his hands stuffed loosely in his pockets, face calmed and shoulders relaxed, could relate to no one.
The interest died down, and Chad turned to the large binder that was the tester guest list. He flipped through the pages with boredom.
A.
Adams, Michelle. Old high school friend.
….
Almost no As.
B.
Bolton, Troy.
Bolton, Gabriella.
Some guy.
Some girl. She hadn't been seen for years. How nice to appear out of no where.
More people. They were rich and probably Chad's neighbors or something…
And so on.
C.
Rachel's family. Rachel had a lot of family.
D.
Chad's family. Chad didn't have much family.
Celebrities he didn't know or like. But they'd bring the world as a gift and then sprinkle it with dollar bills.
E.
Only one E.
Evans, Sharpay.
Chad's fingers hung still over the page: even in writing, Sharpay Evans made a man stop still. Her name, a small print against the dozens of Cs and Ds, managed to overtake the page and immortalize her presence at Chad Danforth's wedding forever. The S twirled across the lines and the E followed it; very soon the only name left was Sharpay Evans.
Chad swallowed thickly, staring at the letters like they were Sharpay's eyes.
He'd have to face her, the truth, and a very heartbreaking decision in a matter of weeks. He'd have to—
"You're stuck here, aren't you?" a voice rang, yanking Chad from the flood he was drowning in.
Chad looked up; his face broke into a grin as he saw Troy standing in the doorway.
"Finally, I thought your plane had sent you back to Albuquerque or something!" Chad joked as he and Troy hugged.
"Ugh, I'd rather take the train back," Troy mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with a weird laugh. Troy's fear of planes, a phobia from childhood, had waned but not dispersed. His loyalty to Chad was almost \ unwavering—no plane would keep him from his best friend's wedding.
"How's Gabriella? Is she here?"
"Back at the hotel, but we were thinking dinner with you and Rachel tonight?"
"Yeah, of course; Man, Troy, I can't believe you got a hotel—"
Troy cut in. "—I like hotels." Or he hated Rachel.
The attendants and planners had separated, leaving Rachel with a head full of wedding jitters and freshly made seating arrangements. She saw Troy and the two managed a friendly conversation of salutations and a lot of hand movements before she announced she had a dress fitting.
"It's nice seeing you, Troy," she said with a genuine smile, turning to Chad with a softer grin. "See you later, honey."
Chad kissed her on the cheek and watched her leave. Troy and Chad were the only ones left in the room.
"Are you kidding me, Chad?" Troy said quickly, pointing at the opened guest list/binder. "You invited Sharpay?" The pair of gents stared at the crowded page of names, the E section reserved only for Sharpay.
"You know I didn't. I guess Rachel and Sharpay knew each other at Interlochen or something."
Troy breathed in. "It's amazing how even now her name stands out against everyone else's."
Chad coughed a laugh as meekly as a guy could, nodding subtly as he thought of Sharpay's obnoxious handwriting. Her swirl of an S and a bow of an E…
-- End of Fall, Junior Year
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"God, your writing looks like chicken scratch," Sharpay sneered, rolling her eyes noticeably before sitting in front of Chad.
"Sorry, I don't work on my penmanship like I do my other skills…" he said with a grin, bending over her titled head and kissing her mouth.
"What other skills?" she threw as a response, leaning back into Chad's chest as he tangled his arms around her waist.
"You're not even funny."
"What're you talking about? I'm hilarious."
Chad chuckled before kissing the back of her neck.
"See?" Sharpay mumbled with a grin, lacing her fingers with is. "You're writing could be like mine, if you practice."
"But yours is so…loop-ish."
"Spacious. S's require more room than other letters."
"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Chad whispered with a smile, rubbing his thumb across the top of Sharpay's hand.
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Sharpay pressed down, down down down, fingers almost white with pressure. These things should not bother her, she was thinking. She had a career and a life and—her thoughts broke off as something decidedly uncomfortable began sliding down her fingers. She looked irritably at her hand.
Oh. The pen broke.
The inoffensive, perfectly innocent writing utensil was snapped in half, even its usually pliable ink tube a victim to her inattention.
"Dammit," she muttered, moving the dripping plastic over the clean paper so that it wouldn't stain her apartment floor. "Most people would be on hand with a towel," she directed at Michelle, who was watching her with amusement.
"Most people wouldn't break their pen," she answered. She did reach back, though, snagged a paper napkin from the counter, and offered it to Sharpay. "Not doing any more than that."
"If I was on top of a building, threatening to jump, you would give me a rope and say 'Tie it tight!' wouldn't you?"
"Hell no. I'd give you a pair of golden wristbands and say 'Make Wonder Woman proud!'" Sharpay snorted, wrapping the faded pink napkin loosely around her hand before rushing to the sink.
"No you wouldn't," she said over the running water. "You'd try to, ruin it, and then hand me a rope." She finished washing off her hand and dropped the dead pen into the trashcan.
Michelle waited until she sat down again to ask, "So why do you need me here to help you write a note to the Rachad?"
"It's not a note, Michelle, and they're not called Rachad." Sharpay pulled another piece of clean, white paper from her stack, lined pink with ribboned bells decorating the corners. She found it incredibly tacky, but it was pink, and it was for a wedding gift.
"So what is it?" Her former roommate gestured at the wrapped box too big to rest on the table.
"It's a birdbath." Michelle looked stunned.
"A bird—"
"A birdbath. A Grecian birdbath."
"Did the Greeks even have birdbaths?"
"It doesn't matter. I didn't ask you. I asked you here, my friend who is for once not in a show and not too exhausted to annoy me, because despite the fact that I am very talented, extremely funny, and a rather attractive person, I am not good at writing wedding condolences to a groom without out rightly insulting the bride."
"You don't like Rachel, so you're giving her a birdbath for her wedding, after which she will probably live in LA, where birdbaths are the next must-have?"
"Michelle, if I gave her that birdbath, I'm sure she can make it the next must-have."
Michelle glared at her. "You're telling me this two days before the wedding so I won't have a chance to find anything else, aren't you?"
"Even I'm not that manipulative, Michelle." She paused. "Or maybe I am. Either way, your hyperactive mind should have no problem coming up with a wedding gift for the couple that has it all."
Sharpay exhaled and stretched her fingers, only slightly unsettled as she realized that—oh yes, she'd broken her pen. She reached past her ream of new stationery to a row of equally tacky pink pens, and selected one from the end, in a way that didn't disturb any of the other pens.
"Chad and Rachel," she said out loud, writing haphazardly across the top of the page. Her voice contorted into some semblance of delight, and her letters, though impeccably formed, carried a kind of rushed air that implied rapturous joy at the announcement of their nuptials. "So happy for both of you!"
She thought for several minutes, until Michelle prompted her to continue with a "How original."
"This is why I invited you over to begin with," Sharpay barked. Crumpling up the paper, she sighed dejectedly. "This isn't going to work."
"I'm sorry, what isn't going to work? Personally, I think that if you got yourself invited to the Racha...el and Chad wedding, there isn't much you can do wrong."
"As usually, Michelle, you've forgotten to account for things like me choking on a fish bone, me clashing with the flowers, me sitting next to Hilary Duff, me just being unfabulous in general, as strange as that may seem." Sharpay threw the paper ball at Michelle's face and scowled. "Maybe I should just say 'From Sharpay Evans, happy honeymoon.'"
"Wouldn't most people say that anyway?"
"Exactly." Michelle pulled a look of disinterest. "You're already a legend, you don't worry about these things." Michelle laughed.
"You think you're not a legend?"
"I think I don't have a legion of fangirls who gossip about how you smell."
"You say that like you're jealous." Sharpay wrinkled her nose.
She said, "Good point." Taking another sheet of paper, she dicated, "Rachel and Chad—Congratulations! The best is yet to come."
Michelle feigned surprise. "That's nice of you," she said.
"I try. Anyway, the point is, if you slap your name on something, it's instantly golden. And if I do...it still has to be good."
"Well, I would hope so. I'd hate to slap my name on something gross. Are you saying that if you slap your name on this wedding gift, it still has to be good? Cos it's...not."
"Shut up," Sharpay said. "God, why did I invite you over?"
"Cos I'm gorgeous." Sharpay took in the sweatpants and t-shirt and haphazardly thrown ponytail.
"Must be." She looked at her "note," and sighed. "Yeah, I'm not going to do anymore for them. Now for the finishing touch." She gripped the pen loosely, an involuntary smile sliding over her lips, and signed her name. It took up more room than the actual note, with an extra-curly 'y' for good measure. The last 's' was just elaborate as the first, and she just knew that Chad would derive some sort of misery from it.
Michelle clapped her hands, and said, "Sharpay, what kind of cake will they have?"
"What?" She looked at Michelle's smiling face and groaned. "Dammit, the peppy one came back."
"Cake, Shar, what kind of cake? You always know." Sharpay capped her pen and folded up the paper, putting it in an envelope and sticking it to the top of the birdbath.
"Um..." she palmed her face. "Okay. Five layers. And...chocolate. It would be chocolate. Chad—they would like chocolate. And honey. A chocolatey-honey cake. It'll be like inhaling a cavity. With, um, buttercream icing. No, whipped. No...This one I don't know, 'chelle."
"I know what you can get them besides that monstrosity."
Sharpay was almost scared to ask, "What?"
"A sterling silver telephone dialer." Michelle looked smug.
"You stole that from Breakast At Tiffany's, you Audrey wannabe." She looked down at the envelope on top of the birdbath. Two things that neither wedding party really wanted to have. "No, I think I'll keep this one."
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A/N: StarVitamin: I like the flashback. So. This Friday will most definitely reintroduce the sickening glory of canon couples. Probably a sensitive Sharpay. A straight Ryan. Chaylor (shudder, gag). It's more unfortunate reinforcement for high expectations worse than Disney princesses. But let's hope it's good. And Chad and Troy get together.
TehFuzzyPenguin: Yes, I know nothing is happening, but I swear! They'll meet soon. very, very soon. In the meantime, try not to get too caught up with whatever this Friday will bring because...just because. Because I've heard rumors and I would just like to say this for the record: Sharpay almost never cries unless she's faking it; Ryan is GAY; Gabriella and Troy would make a horrible couple once they got over the whole "breaking free" routine; Taylor's an unjustified bitch; Chad is selfish; no one is good at EVERYthing; Don't believe everything you see on HSM 2, apparently the writers favored MARKETABILITY over BELIEVABILITY and...oh, CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. the end.
