Author's Note: Welcome back. Last time, Troy voiced his thoughts on Chad, and revealed his second secret: he's been having nightmares. In this final chapter, we see everything coming together in a unique way. See if you can figure out what's going on before Troy does.

Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical. If I did, I'd be living in a nice house.


Troy smiled to himself as he slowly snaked through his living room, winding a wending way around various Wildcats in various stages of inebriation. For the record, he hadn't brought the booze and he didn't know who did. Of course, he didn't really care - his parents had just smiled when he asked to have the party. He hadn't seen them since the beginning of the night, when they went upstairs to their room, making dreamy eyes at each other. Troy just hoped their door was locked and no pictures fell off his wall this time.

Finally, he made it through the throng of chattering Wildcats and into the kitchen. Food of all nutrition levels decorated the counters and the island in the center of the room, with the most nutrituous choices surviving the teenagers' attack. Troy did not find himself alone in this room, either, although it had been savagely pillaged and mostly abandoned about a good hour ago.

"Hey, Captain," Jason greeted with a salute of his carrot stick.

"Hey, Jason. Taking a break?" Troy replied, grinning as he moved to rinse out his cup in the sink. He'd been nursing it for the past hour and a half before eventually deciding that getting smashed wasn't his goal tonight. Somebody would probably end up needing a ride home when all the vomiting was said and done, and he, being a polite and courteous host, would happily oblige.

Just as long as they didn't puke all over his mother's Suburban.

"You could say that," Jason said as Troy filled his cup with tap water, "I'm just going through some of the pics I took today."

Troy turned, intrigued. He hadn't noticed that Jason was holding a rather large camera in his hands - along with the now-digesting carrot stick - and, apparently, scanning through his picture card.

"You took pictures?" Troy repeated. He felt a little dumb stating the obvious, but there wasn't much else he could say. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought Jason to be a shutterbug.

"Yeah," Jason replied, the tiniest of blushes appearing across his features as he continued to tap buttons on his camera.

"Would you mind another pair of eyes?" Troy asked after a few moments of semi-awkward silence.

Jason looked up.

"You don't think it's...stupid or anything?" he asked.

"Nah," Troy replied immediately, shrugging and sipping his water, "I think it's kinda cool. I suck at taking pictures. My Myspace pic cuts off the top of my head, remember?" he added, grinning.

Jason laughed.

"I'll have to take a better one for you, then," he remarked as Troy came over to look over his shoulder.

"Yeah, you will, Jase. These look awesome," Troy enthused.

And they really did. Jason really had an eye for this kind of stuff. One, especially, caught his eye: a snapshot of Ryan Evans dancing on the impromptu dance floor Troy had created in the den. He was still in his restricting "Bop to the Top" callback outfit, hat and all, but he was caught in a position that Troy could only dream of fitting his body into. But, most of all, he was smiling - widely and freely, not devilishly or confusedly or any other-ly. He was having...fun.

"I gotta check up on Chad," Troy said after Jason had flipped through the entire collection.

"Make sure he's still able to walk, you mean?" Jason joked, laughing.

"Yeah. But Zeke's with him, I think. I hope. Oh, well. Hey, good pics, man," Troy added in departure. Jason just smiled and waved as Troy left the room.

Slowly, Troy once again weaved through the many Wildcats scattered about his house. Some of them stopped him to offer congratulations or other comments and he, of course, stopped to chat with them all until each one was satisfied. Along the way, he spotted an unusual pair on the couch that he couldn't help himself from visiting.

"Troy," Taylor greeted calmly, smiling. "I don't think I got to tell you - congratulations. You played a great game."

"And sang your ass off," Zeke added, grinning. "Dude, I didn't know you had pipes like that!"

Troy grinned, settling down on the arm of the vacant armchair adjacent to the couch. He was sure he was blushing.

"Thanks. And congrats to you, too," he directed to a surprised Taylor, "You did an amazing job with those African capitals."

"Wow. You were actually listening when Gabriella told you about the decathalon?" Taylor asked, raising both eyebrows.

"Yeah," Troy replied, shrugging, "She listens to me when I go on about games, and I know she could care less."

Taylor sunk slowly back into the couch, affixing Troy with a stare he couldn't quite figure out. Zeke noticed this and, naturally, leapt to his Captain's aid.

"So where is that girl of yours, Troy?" he asked. Taylor immediately smacked him on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" he screeched.

"Girls are not things to be kept track of at every second, Baylor. I have no idea what I'm going to do with you, honestly. You're never going to impress this crush of yours if you keep acting like a misogynistic bastard," Taylor quipped, but she couldn't hide a grin.

"Crush? Zeke has a crush?" Troy chirped, grinning as well. Zeke groaned.

"Thanks, Taylor," he deadpanned. Taylor smacked him again, although lighter this time.

"Oh, shut yer trap, Zeke. It's not like he knows who she is or anything. Hell, I don't even know who this mystery girl of yours is. I've been trying to get him to tell me," Taylor admitted to Troy, "But he's got his lips shut tighter than a ten-cent whore who hasn't been paid yet."

Troy raised his eyebrows. Zeke gawked.

Then all three of them broke into peals of laughter.

"Seriously, though, seriously," Taylor tried to say through her giggles, "Seriously, Zeke. If you want to impress her, you don't have to give her stuff. You deserve to be liked for just being you. And if this girl's too blind to see past your cookies, then you better give up. Fast. Just...just talk to her like she's a human being. Like she's interesting. Like she's more than a walking pair of tits. Alright? Now go," she demanded.

Zeke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Go," she repeated, "I need to talk to Prettyboy here, and you need to talk to your mystery girl before she gets too plastered to remember the conversation. And if she is plastered, I better not catch you making out with her, or your ass is mine. I don't care if she's..." Taylor trailed off for a moment, thinking, "I don't care if she's Sharpay Evans, even. You don't take advantage of a girl when she's drunk. You read me, Baylor?" she threatened.

Zeke nodded quickly - and repeatedly - before getting off the couch.

"Good luck, man," he whispered as he passed Troy. Troy just grinned.

"So," Troy began.

"Look, Bolton. You are one hell of a lucky guy to have Gabriella Montez interested in him. And as Gabriella's best friend, I feel obliged to tell you this: if you ever - EVER - hurt her, I will cut your balls off with kindergarten scissors. We clear?" she asked.

Troy, eyes wide with surprise, nodded quickly - and repeatedly.

"Good. Now if you're looking for your other basketball friends, they're still in the den trying to breakdance and making fools out of themselves in the process. Oh, and Troy," Taylor added as Troy rose from his perch on the arm of the armchair, "Gabriella's one hell of a lucky girl to have you, too."

Troy looked at Taylor's smiling face and grinned. Then, feeling adventurous, he took a step over to her, leant over, and planted a chaste kiss onto her right cheek.

"Bolton..." she started, warningly, eyes wide, but Troy held up a hand to silence her.

"For being the best friend of a girlfriend I've ever met," he said, slowly and genuinely, never once lifting his gaze from her shocked stare. Slowly, her face melted into a smile.

"You're a charmer, Bolton. And a damn good one. Just...save the kisses for Montez, all right?" she said, winking. "Now go on. Go. I've got a feeling I'll be matchmaking all night long," she added, sighing but smiling.

Troy straightened, made to enter the crowd again, then stopped.

"Don't forget to find one for yourself," he advised. Then, before she could say anything more, he whisked himself away into the crowd.

He didn't get far - but it was far enough from Taylor - when he noticed Martha Cox leaning against the wall, staring dreamily at a spot near her left hand (or her left elbow, he wasn't entirely sure). He shrugged - she seemed nice enough when they were working out his idea to make today a success, offering intelligent suggestions and alternatives to some of the more radical ideas - and headed over to her.

"Hey, Martha," he greeted, but she didn't say anything. He waved a hand in front of her face.

"Martha? Martha? Earth to Martha," Troy joked. Martha finally jerked back to reality with a start.

"Oh, hi, Troy. I'm sorry, I was just...elsewhere," she apologized, smiling.

"What were you staring at?" Troy asked, then promptly flinched, "I mean, if you don't mind my asking. I'm just hoping nobody spilled anything on the carpet. It's a bitch getting the stains out. Damn, they didn't spill wine or something, did they? I love my mom, but she must've been on something when she picked white carpeting. I mean, come on, white? Ya sneeze the wrong way and ya stain it. Man, I'm gonna be - "

"Troy, stop," Martha commanded, holding up her left hand, "You're rambling."

"Sorry," Troy apologized, blushing slightly, "Bad habit."

"I wish mine was as cute," Martha remarked, letting her hand fall back down to her side. Troy stood and waited for her to continue, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his favorite jeans that he'd changed into for the party.

"I was staring at my hand, Troy," Martha started, "The boy I really like saw me and came over and introduced himself like he never even knew me even though we both know we do know each other but I'm getting off-track 'cause see he kissed my hand and now I feel like a fangirl at a concert who got her hand touched by the cute guy who sings lead vocals and doesn't want to wash her hand anymore and I know that it's all really silly and even though he didn't get the lead I still think he's really cute especially when he has his shirts tucked in although I don't think I've ever seen him with his shirt untucked because I don't think Sharpay would let him do - "

"Martha, stop," Troy commanded, holding up his left hand, "You're rambling."

"Sorry," Martha apologized, grinning as she refilled her lungs, "I guess it's catchy."

"And still cute, by the way," Troy complimented, winking, "So, you like Ryan Evans, huh?"

"Gabriella told you?" Martha asked, deflating slightly and appearing to bite the corners of her lips.

"No, you did. You said Sharpay wouldn't let him do something, and the only guy Sharpay Evans tolerates is her brother. Even if she treats him like shit," Troy added before he could stop himself.

But if he was being honest, he didn't want to take that last one back. Sharpay did treat Ryan like shit, and it wasn't fair. Sure, Ryan wasn't exactly the type of guy Troy wanted to hang out with or anything, and he might possibly be gay, but that didn't mean Sharpay had to treat him like some sort of...Igor.

"Yeah, she does, but I think it's just because she cares," Martha defended.

Troy gaped.

"She 'cares'?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Martha replied, shrugging, "He's her brother. He's family. Treating him like that is her way of toughening him up because he's not...well, he's not like you, Troy. He's not sporty or strong or smart or anything even close to being acceptable for a guy."

"I think I see what you mean. People are going to take advantage of him?" Troy asked.

"And he'll let them," Martha added, nodding, "Because he's sweet - but naive. Sharpay's just trying to teach him that there are people out there who aren't all cookies and cobbler."

Troy nodded for a few moments, thinking.

"Go for it, Martha," he advised.

Martha gave him a confused look.

"Ask him out," Troy elaborated, "It sounds like you understand him pretty well. You two'd make a great match."

"Thanks, Troy," Martha said, smiling, "But I don't think that's going to happen. I think I'll just settle for the kiss on the hand. Unless you see him drinking, in which case...point him my way, will you?" she joked, her smile widening.

"Will do," Troy laughed back, and returned to the crowd of people moving through his house. He finally succeeded in reaching the den, where he saw a sight he never thought he would see:

Kelsi Nielson, Sharpay, and Gabriella, dancing.

Together.

It was all very odd, but nobody seemed to be protesting. Of course, they weren't alone: half of the basketball team was also rocking out to some song blasting through the speakers that Troy neither knew nor cared about at the moment. Even some of the members of the decathalon team - decathalonners? - were gyrating wildly to the music.

The song ended quickly though, and the girls separated after a cheer, laughing with each other. Sharpay led Gabriella through the crowd to a narrow hallway as Kelsi headed in his direction. He scanned the room for Chad, but couldn't see him. Maybe Kelsi knew.

"Hey, Playmaker. Nice moves," Troy complimented, grinning as the small girl stepped off of the impromptu dance floor. Troy had created it earlier by moving all of the furniture in the den to the sides of the room.

"Oh, hi, Troy. Thanks," Kelsi said quietly, smiling as she sat on a futon Troy had slid to the north wall of the room. He joined her on it.

"Have you seen Chad lately?" he asked.

"He was here up until...oh, about three songs ago. Then he went off to the...um...I think maybe your dining room? It was that way," Kelsi finished, pointing towards a hallway.

"Yeah, that's the way to the dining room," Troy affirmed. He nodded, then nodded a little more slowly, quirking his mouth oddly.

"Well, this isn't an awkward moment," Kelsi joked. Troy laughed nervously.

"Yeah, sorry. I just don't know what to talk about now that callbacks are done and all," he admitted.

Kelsi cocked her head at him at an odd angle, as if examining him more closely.

"Well. I guess I can't blame you. I haven't really told you anything about myself, so how could you know what to say?" she said, her voice drifting somewhat dreamily at the end.

"So, uh...what's your favorite color?" Troy asked awkwardly, grinning.

Kelsi laughed lightly.

"Blue. You?" Kelsi asked.

"Red," Troy said.

"Please don't say 'and white', or I might have to hurt you," Kelsi muttered.

"Hey! What's wrong with school spirit?" Troy asked, laughing.

"Nothing at all - in small doses. But I draw the line at face paint. Makes people look like Tammy Faye Baker," Kelsi jibed, rolling her eyes.

"I remember her," Troy said, "My mom said she tried to get her to come to my sixth birthday party as a clown, but she never wrote back."

"She didn't!" Kelsi said, slowly, shaking her head and grinning.

"She did! Well...I guess I never saw her mail the letter out, so I don't really know..." Troy trailed off, smirking. They both laughed a little before Kelsi suddenly straightened up to peer over Troy's shoulder. Troy made a move to turn around, but Kelsi grabbed his arm.

"Don't! He's been staring at me for the past five minutes and I don't want him to know that I know," Kelsi said through a grin, barely moving her mouth, "Just keep pretending we're talking."

"Would it help if I went to go find Chad so you can talk to Mr. Googly-Eyes?" Troy teased. Kelsi smacked him on the arm she had latched onto.

"Hey!" Troy protested.

"Yes, it would help," Kelsi saucily returned, sticking out her tongue, "So go on, shoo, before he starts getting the wrong idea."

Troy grinned and saluted cockily before making for the hallway that led to his dining room. Along the way he dodged a couple couples trying to feel for their partners' wisdom teeth with their tongues before entering the crowded dining room. He couldn't find Chad immediately, but he did find the Bolton family dog, Petri, squatting near one of the table legs.

"Petri!" Troy barked. "Come on, man! Ugh," he muttered as Petri finished, then scraped the carpet with his back legs in a vain attempt to cover up his mess.

"Get outta here!" Troy ordered. Petri turned around, wagged his tail, then scampered out of the room. Troy sighed and knelt down.

"Do you, uh...need some help?" a voice asked. Troy looked up into the towering figure of Ryan Evans.

"Uh...yeah, actually. Can you get me a napkin off the table, please?" Troy asked. Ryan nodded, reaching with for a napkin out of the holder. He handed it to a waiting Troy, who grimaced as he fit it like a glove and reached down.

"Eww...you're actually...touching that stuff?" Ryan asked.

Troy raised an eyebrow as he quickly rose and sped to the small bathroom adjacent to the dining room.

"How else is it gonna get cleaned, dude?" Troy replied over the sound of the flushing toilet. He rejoined Ryan in the dining room.

"I dunno. Usually whenever Sharpay's dog does...that, it's been cleaned up the next time I walk past the spot," Ryan answered, shrugging.

"By the maid?" Troy sniped.

Ryan stared for a few moments, then nodded, his eyes widening.

"So that's how it got done!" he said, awestruck.

Troy's eyebrow raised even higher. Ryan Evans was a great actor, a better singer, and an even better dancer, but a terrible student. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't recall Ryan ever speaking up in any class he shared with Troy, except for homeroom with Darbus.

Actually, Troy realized, this was their first conversation ever between just the two of them, with no Sharpay or Wildcats or Gabriella around.

"So...I heard they're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream downtown at the community theatre. You and Sharpay going to try out?" Troy asked.

"Just Shar," Ryan replied quietly, staring into his red cup, "She can handle rehearsing for two shows at once, but I...I don't have that kind of stamina," he admitted.

"Well...actually, that kinda works out," Troy blurted. Ryan looked up, agonized.

"It...does?" he asked.

"Yeah," Troy replied, "See, I was kinda hoping you'd maybe help me out a little bit. Actually, a lot. I'm kinda new to this whole performing thing and, well...you're kinda the authority on the stage, man," Troy ended, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Ryan stared for a few moments, unmoving. Then, slowly, he nodded, breaking into a brilliant grin.

"I'd be happy to, Troy," he agreed, then held out his hand. Troy looked down at it, looked up at Ryan, and gripped the proffered hand in a strong handshake - which Ryan returned with equal strength.

"Damn, man! I didn't know you had such a killer grip. Why don't you do sports?" Troy asked, grinning.

Ryan blushed.

"I did, when I was younger, but Shar always wanted to do something or another, so...I guess I kinda just stopped. I dunno why, really," Ryan mumbled.

"Well, you should definitely get back into 'em, man," Troy advised. "Oh, hey, have you seen Chad lately?" Troy added.

"I saw him in the den about an hour ago...but after that, I have no idea. Sorry," Ryan apologized.

"No prob, man. Catch ya later," Troy promised, "Oh, and Martha was looking for you. She's in the living room," Troy added, passing into the breezeway to the backyard. It was much darker there - he could barely see anything and his eyes had trouble adjusting to the lack of light. Once they did, though, he was able to make out two figures standing face-to-face on the lawn.

"Dream on, Montez!" one screeched.

"Sharpay, what is your problem?" the other cried back.

"My problem? My problem is you, Montez! You think you can come in here and turn the entire school into some sort of merry-go-round carnival ride when you know damn well that it's not!" Sharpay yelled.

"Sharpay!" Gabriella repeated.

"And then you try out by accident and take my part away from me! And on top of it all you take the only boy I ever wanted in this dump!" Sharpay continued.

"Sharpay..." Troy whispered, astonished.

She didn't hear.

"And now you DARE to ask me for MY help?" Sharpay finished.

"Yes! Yes, I did! I made the big mistake of thinking you were okay with all this! 'Break a leg', my foot! There's only one thing you care about, Sharpay Evans, and that's YOU!" Gabriella screamed.

"That's where you're wrong, Little Miss Perfect," Sharpay countered, "Did you ever stop to wonder why you were put in Darbus' homeroom? Or how McKessie got her hands on your wiz kid history? Or why no teachers ever stopped your little impromptu rehearsals with Kelsi in the music room, which, by the way, was NOT allowed to be in use during free period?"

"I...no, Sharpay," Gabriella admitted.

"That's what I thought," Sharpay snapped. She turned and stalked back into the Bolton's house, passing a confused Troy without a single word. When she got to the threshold of the breezeway, she stopped, just within Troy's earshot but not Gabriella's.

"I like her, Troy. She's good for you. And if you say a word about any of this, I will vehemently deny it," she whispered.

"Sharpay..." Troy started.

"Just...go. She needs you," Sharpay murmured. Without another word, she vanished into the darkness of the breezeway.

Troy turned and crossed over to Gabriella.

"You okay, Gab?" he asked.

"She's had a couple drinks, Troy. She obviously didn't know what she was saying," Gabriella muttered, staring at a spot on the wooden fence.

"Are you okay, Gabriella? Do you want to go inside?" Troy asked, putting a steering hand onto her back.

"NO!" Gabriella shouted, stepping away from Troy's hand. "I...I'm sorry, Troy. I just need some air right now. Too many people on that dance floor, y'know?" she said.

Troy nodded, returning his hand to his side.

"She knew. I don't know how...but she knew. And when the song was over, she got me out of there. I thought it would make her happy if she could be involved in the musical - you know, more than she already is now - so I asked her, and she just...lost it! I..." Gabriella trailed off for a moment, then added, "Chad's in your bedroom, Troy."

"How did you - ?" Troy started.

"You haven't seen each other since the game ended. I know you need to talk to your best friend. Just go, Troy. I'll be fine," Gabriella promised.

Troy bit his lip, leaned over, pecked Gabriella once on the lips, and headed back inside the house. As Sharpay had, he stopped in the threshold; unlike her, he turned around.

All he could see was darkness.

He frowned and, trusting that Gabriella had just gone over to sit at one of the picnic tables, turned around again and reentered his house. He passed through the deserted dining room again and into the dark hallway, where he opened a door that contained a stairwell. Troy bounded up them two at a time until he reached the landing, where he turned left and found the door to his room wide open.

Chad was sitting at the foot of his bed.

"'Bout time, Troy," Chad greeted.

For some inexplicable reason, Troy felt anxious. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Chad didn't seem to notice.

"Dude, that game was so awesome! That last shot was so sick, man!" Chad enthused.

Troy tried to speak again, and again nothing came out. He settled for nodding.

"We are so gonna dominate next year, too! SENIOR YEAR, Troy! I can't wait for it!" Chad yelled.

He was still on the bed, and Troy hadn't moved from the doorway. He couldn't move - it was like something had stuck him directly in place.

"I mean, I know I gotta get through the rest of this year first, but y'know what I mean, man. If I even make it through the year. Y'know I suck at absolutely everything anyway. Hell, I probably couldn't have passed last year without those cheat sheets," Chad muttered.

Troy frowned. Chad was being awfully revealing - and degrading. Where had this Chad come from?

"I don't even know how I made it through the game today. I guess...I guess it's all your fault, Troy," Chad accused.

Troy forgot that something had a hold on his voice, and tried to argue. Still nothing came out.

"You always know how to make everybody feel better. I don't know how you do it, Troy, but you do. I guess...I guess it's 'cause you listen," Chad finished.

Then he rose, slowly, and advanced over to Troy.

In one slow, fluid motion, he encapsulated Troy in a bear hug.

When he broke away, Troy felt something alien.

It felt like...

Support.

"You make us feel better because you care," Kelsi whispered, stepping out of Troy's closet.

"Even when you don't know who it is," Martha added, stepping out after Kelsi.

"Or even if they've been terrible to you," Ryan finished, following Martha.

"It's because you're smart," Taylor said, spinning around in Troy's computer chair.

"And you know what not to say," Sharpay added, pushing her head out from underneath the bed.

"And even when you're wrong, you mean well," Jason said, stepping out from behind a curtain.

"That's what really matters: the intention," Zeke told him, stepping out from behind the other curtain.

"Troy?" Gabriella asked.

Troy turned around - and there she was, bathed in the light from the hallway.

"It's time," she said, smiling.

She took him by the hand and led him to the landing of the stairs.

"It's time to go, Troy. Don't forget - you made this all happen here. You can do it down there, too," she directed.

And then she pushed him.

Down, down he fell, tumbling down the stairs.

Into the black void.

He landed on his back.

He opened his eyes.

He was back in his room.

He looked at his alarm clock:

12:26 A.M.

He smiled and rolled over, falling back into the void of sleep.

He didn't dream further that night.


Author's Note: I hope you caught the hints! Was I too subtle? Or too heavy-handed? Let me know in your review, and thanks for coming along for the ride. This was a fun exploration of character.