"If everyone else, why not me? I do have the mental capacity to think, you know. All this secret-exposing made me think...what is my deepest, darkest secret? I know I look good, so it's not like I secretly hate myself. I've got talent, Lord knows that, so no need to be jealous of anyone.
But there is one little thing. One thing that nobody knows...except my mom and my stylist, of course.
There's a reason I love wearing all those hats. It's not only because I look totally fabulous in them, nor is it because all the chicks dig 'em. Or even because I'm anal about matching my accesories perfectly to what I'm wearing.
No.
...Although the latter is very true.
...As are the other two.
Anyways. I decided my biggest secret was...I'm not blonde. Well, obviously I'm blonde, but I'm not blonde. My hair isn't naturally this radiant, golden shade of..blonde. We Evans' are a blonde family. Mom, dad, Sharpay, our cats. Even the pony's we had when we were little were blonde. And my pony's name was Blondie. But that's mainly because she whinnied, she sounded like Blondie in 'Call Me'. That's blon--er..beyond the point.
I have exactly three hundred and sixty nine hats. Two of them are 'dress' hats. One is my lucky audition hat. One other is my very first newsboy I woar in Oliver!...those were the good times. The others are to be worn with the outfits planned for me this year. For example, the brown and pink striped shirt is to be worn with my brown checked newsboy cap on March 26, that's a nice o--...right..my secret.
I'm scared to go about business without a hat. What if people...saw? My roots, I mean. That they were..red! What would happen? Would I be denied the next leading role? Would I still have friends? Would I still be an Evans? Would girls still fawn over me? What if they found out!
It would be a catastrophe.
An abom..aboma..abomin? An aboma-something!
A tragedy, a travesty!
So. There it is. I'm a red-head. Under these lovely sunshine locks lays a head of fire.
...Is it terrible?"
Ryan took a deep breath and smiled, feeling better with himself.
"What about Blondie?" His sister turned on him and cocked her head, a shirt on a hanger balanced on her finger.
He groaned, and Ryan's smile fell. "Nevermind.."
Sharpay shrugged and turned back to hir mirror. "Why are you wearing that hat? Can't you go a day without one? It doesn't match your shirt. March twenty-sixths would go much better."