A/N: Thanks much for still reading! Yes, this fanfiction thing sure does get addicting xD.

ChaylorFnficPrincess -- As for Chad and Taylor, you can expect them to make a few appearances (and find out TEHREASON for break-up) as the story runs along mwuaha.. ha. :)

Disclaimer: Er... well, you know. I don't own it STILL, if you're wondering.

Chapter Three: Z-42.

"Listen-- what was your name, Larry? We've had this conversation six times in the past few weeks. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Join. The. Chess. Club. Should I say it slower?"

Clara Bryant was not happy. In fact, she was mostly if not all pissed. This Larry Knight kid (she didn't even want to get started on his name) had somehow gotten it into his head that she was a perfect newest recruit-able member for the chess club. She'd also told him about a trillion times that she wasn't. And that he smelled. She had to hand it to him though, he was a persistent little bugger.

"Very well," he replied, his nose going up towards the ceiling. "I can see I've upset you! I'll leave."

She looked at him. She looked at her watch.

"All right, bye." She replied in a deadpan voice, taking off in the opposite direction-- leaving Larry, quite frustrated, where he stood. This would not be the end of it, he thought, no it would not!

She didn't know if maybe it was the lonerish vibe she was giving out. Maybe that's what was attracting all these people looking to recruit her in one of their clubs, as this school had more activities than she had probably participated in her entire life. Activities up the wazoo-- her friends back at home would be appalled. In any case, it'd been nearly three weeks since she'd started school and the friends situation was looking dire. At first her mother thought that perhaps the year was just getting off to a slow start, but after Clara had purposefully refused any offers of friend-to-friend activity-- her parents finally realized that this was all self-inflicted lonerdom. Though honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Grumpily, she set off towards the stairs that would lead her down to the darkness. To her locker, in other words. Maybe they smelled it in her beforehand, she thought, and thought it better to give her a locker as far away from others as possible in case her diagnosis of the grumpy-blues was contagious. She'd gotten used to the descent as well as rushing between classes, but the smell of the place was still just as awful as ever. She hopped off the last step, the room opening out before her in a couple rows of old lockers. Apparently the Z-section wasn't the most popular.

The room always seemed to be leaking and wet-- the combination settling into a musty sort of smell. It was all dreadfully topped off by the depressing and flickering florescent lights on the ceiling, and the plain cement floors beneath them. After a moment's pause, she exhaled a deep breath, and made her way towards her locker. Z-41. Awesome. (Not.)

She threw open the door and stuck her head in, milling about as she looked for her favorite pen (she was sure that either Larry took it spitefully, or she'd left it here).

"Hey there."

The sound of the voice startled her and her head flew upwards-- unfortunately, while still in the locker, it came immediately crashing against the inside and after cursing loudly she pulled herself out of the locker.

"Christ, could you perhaps not sneak up on people like that?" she muttered as she rubbed her head and retrieved her notebook. Turning round to face the owner of said voice (associated now with bringer-of-pain) she was met with a pair of blue eyes and a mop of brown hair. (Well actually, she had to look upwards as he was at least a head taller than her.)

Embarrassed, he apologized and did the first thing he could think of-- stuck out his hand in front of him, in other words. "I'm er-- Troy Bolton."

The girl looked up at him with an odd expression, and he couldn't tell whether or not she was going to slap him or take his hand-- thankfully, she took it without further protest. "Clara Bryant," she returned simply, and went back to whatever it was she was doing.

He'd been surprised to see anyone down here in the first place, that he hadn't really thought of the consequences of sneaking up on someone. Awkwardly, he went to open his locker-- now having recognized her as the girl Gabriella had pointed out in the cafeteria some weeks ago.

"So er, you're new right?" he asked, as means of making conversation. They'd share this terrible space for the rest of the year-- he might as well make conversation.

She scoffed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm new. What is it with this school-- you all telepathically connected? Do I give out a new smell?" Shaking her head, as though caught between amusement and irritation, she shoved her books into her bag and slammed her locker shut. Before he had a chance to answer she was already making her way out. "Well, see you around Troy Bolton."

He chuckled to himself and that was that, a pair of black sneakers was the last thing he saw as she climbed up the stairs.

Later that day, at dinner, new problems seemed to crop up. He'd spent the last weeks preparing himself for next week's auditions-- the musical, if anything, was different than the one he'd done before. This one was traced with a slight holiday theme, as it was to be performed for the upcoming holidays, yet it incorporated a lot of modern musical influences. In any case, he'd been at it for awhile now and he and Gabriella had once again asked for Kelsi's help. It was so great to be singing with her again that he'd just let everything sort of blur into the background. Not that his dad would let it for much longer.

"You know we have game coming up," he started, as he chewed on a particularly fiesty piece of meat. (It wasn't moving or anything. It was just near charred.) His mother's cooking had been a little off lately.

Troy smirked, shoveling in another spoonful of mashed potatoes. "Game coming up in a couple months, you mean."

"Yes, well, months can turn to seconds before you know it. I just want to make sure your head is in the right place-- and don't look at me like that, you know I'm all right with the musical... and the singing," Mr. Bolton continued, very heatedly defending himself. "Just don't forget the rest of your responsibilities, all right? This is the last year you'll play-- college scouts will be around, you've got things lined up... you don't want to ruin your chances, do you?"

"Alright, Dad, I know." Troy replied breathlessly, feeling the weight of the upcoming season (and entire year) suddenly fall onto his shoulders. His mother gave his dad a reprimanding look, but said nothing else. She was having a little trouble chewing as well. "Is there any other reason you're especially wound up?"

There was a short pause before his dad set down his fork, leaving Troy wondering just what exactly was going on. "Well-- the game, the one in a couple months... it's... well, against Hillside."

Troy now took this moment to choke on a piece of chewy meat. "W-what? Hillside isn't in our district! We've never played them before!"

"They re-drew district lines this past summer, Troy-- Hillside is in now." He sounded pretty irritated about it all, and rightfully so.

Hillside was home to Damien Sullivan. Ring a bell? If it doesn't, soon enough it will. See, Damien and Troy used to be pretty close friends you know-- hell, their mothers went through pregnancy together. Their fathers used to barbecue together. They used to stick things up their nose together.

Stuff like that.

Overall, they were inseperable-- the fact that they were next door neighbors only made things better. Then things just started to go to hell, but it wasn't them that had the problem... it was their fathers. Mr. Sullivan started-- well, the easiest way to put this is that he started mucking things up for his Dad. Throwing wayward accusations that could have cost him his job as a Coach, all born from an insignificant rivalry that was fueled by the greenest of envy. Naturally, Damien wasn't exactly the nicest petal in the bunch to Troy once things started to get out of hand. The rivalry passed down to the two sons, who quickly began to compete in any and all areas they could-- but basketball more than anything else. Their fued came to an abrupt end when Damien and the rest of the Sullivans moved, and they hadn't seen eachother since. They hadn't even been mentioned until today.

The trouble was, everyone knew (and as newspaper clippings proved) that Damien Sullivan was a star player on his basketball team-- for Hillside. So now that the prospect of facing Damien again was upon him, Troy felt like someone had just smacked him in the gut and left him a cowering mess.

"Oh."

Yep, that was about as much as his brain could muster.

"Troy? Are you alright, honey?" he heard his mother ask, but somehow it all seemed very far away from him.

Excusing himself from the table after he'd choked down a couple more mouthfuls, he ended up in his backyard-- his personal basketball court at the ready. He picked up an old ball and started to dribble as he walked around and occasionally threw it (though not too concerned on whether or not he actually made it). Damien Sullivan. The name felt foreign to even think about. He had never decided whether or not he hated the kid or missed him-- but they hadn't seen eachother since the end of 7th grade, so it wasn't like he'd had a chance. For awhile, Damien had been his best friend, in a way that Chad wasn't. Even in a way that Gabriella wasn't. Damien was just the kid that-- that got it, you know?

Then all of the sudden basketball was all there was, then there was just the rivalry, then there were just the insults that sometimes he wished he could take back. Whatever the case, he wouldn't look forward to the game-- but he had to make sure he won it.