A/N: Aww, thanks for the reviews (and yay for new readers too!)-- I wish I could reply to each of you but I seem I only have just enough time lately to quickly post up a new chapter . . UGH FOR PACKING. But yay for college. (And HSM is totally cool I agree, no matter what age SRSLY :P.) More loving and hating of Troy will ensue in the next couple of chapters. (I'm really hoping to finish this fic before I leave --, that gives me two weeks! I HOPE.)

Chapter Eight: Let's Party

The night of the party came quickly, and this particular Friday was much anticipated by a large chunk of the student body. Currently he was driving his truck with Gabriella in the passenger's seat, as they tried to figure out Sharpay's terrible directions. He couldn't get over how fantastic she looked, and made sure to mention it every couple of minutes (enough so that Gabriella finally forced him to stop, a deep blush on her cheeks). The thing was, that wearing a skirt that was short like she was-- and a shirt that seemed to glitter just so when she moved-- and her hair falling over her bare shoulders like it was-- it was, well, a little overwhelming for him. Nonetheless, he tried his best to stop sneaking glances at her while driving. (Or else they'd never get there.)

The two had fallen into a sort of silence as the radio played in the background, Gabriella humming to the songs (though she wasn't aware of it)-- and every so often she'd start to sing, though ever so quietly-- as though she was trying to hide the fact. There was a cool breeze running in through the open windows, causing both of their hair to lightly float against the wind. The night was heavy upon them, and the moonlight illuminated the figure next to him quite prettily. The moment really couldn't have been more perfect than it was in those long minutes finding Sharpay's house. As though feeling his eyes on her, Gabriella turned to face him, wearing a smile and saying nothing else. She didn't really need to though, since her eyes said everything she didn't vocalize-- and he couldn't help but feel like... Christ, her smile could move mountains.

Ending too soon, they pulled onto a side street-- parking a bit away from what they assumed was Sharpay's enormous house. The street was already full of cars, and the imminent presence of a party was confirmed by the sound of the steady thump of inaudible music coming from inside the house. Stepping onto the sidewalk, they started to walk towards the house, and as Gabriella took a hold of his hand he couldn't help but feel a little bit excited for whatever was to come tonight.

This party had been a bad idea to come to. She didn't know what had possessed her. Sure, Sharpay's house was enormous. It had more rooms than she'd probably sleep in her entire lifetime. It had an amazing pool in the backyard and hell-- it even had a waterfall. The living room was the size of a small auditorium and everything about the music and the food and the entertainment was pretty much perfect. The only trouble was, she wasn't enjoying herself at all. Which is why she was currently hunched over the sink of one of the Queen-like bathrooms, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She'd pulled up her hair for the occasion, one of the few times she'd ever let both her ears and eyes show at the same time-- and she supposed that was perhaps why no one was recognizing her. Hell, she'd even put on one of-- one of those shirts, the kind that showed too much skin and held onto your body too tight. Yeah! She'd even done that. She'd even put on make-up. She was all dressed up, but for what reason? It was like she didn't even know herself anymore.

Hearing a knock at the door and a voice demanding entrance on the other side (an obnoxious girl who sounded drunk), she turned away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom. She was determined to get out of this house as fast as she could. She was surprised to be met with a sea of bumping bodies, who all were dancing to the beat of the music (whether they were good at it or not was irrelevant). Some had cups in one of their hands, others didn't have anything. She couldn't recognize many faces, and she was starting to think that the party had picked up people beyond just members of East High. Nevertheless, she pushed her way through the crowd-- completely and utterly irritated with herself for ever having even thought for a second that this was a good idea.

Suddenly, she felt a hand tug on her arm-- stopping her from leaving. She turned around the face the person, with a mixture of relief and hesitation. However, she was met with an unexpected sight, and immediately her face fell.

"Larry. I swear that this is the worst moment possible-- let go." She was adamant and was surprised that he didn't run away at the mere tone of her voice.

However, Larry was also persistent. He drew his hand away though, and for this she was thankful. "Erm-- look, sorry for bothering you but do you think that... maybe you would, er-- dance with me? Just one time-- you can go wherever you want afterwards... I just thought..." he trailed off, and frankly Clara was ready to just turn around and leave without further explanation. However, that damned caring slice of her almost felt bad for the guy. As if on cue, the fast moving song that had just been playing switched to something softer, slower, and meant for a pair of two.

Sighing heavily, she pushed him forwards-- muttering a "FINE." and knowing she was going to regret this in the morning. They walked through the crowd, looking for a clearing, and when they found an area where most pairs seemed to be swaying back and forth to the song she heaved a sigh, now succumbing to her fate in the arms of Smelly Larry Knight. A half second before his hands were on her waist, however, her attention was caught by another dancing pair of familiar faces-- Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez.

Her stomach squirmed uncomfortably for a second, and realizing that Larry had started to lead her around she placed her hands on his shoulders. "Not too close," she whispered at him, though paying much attention. Her eyes were fixated on Troy and his partner, for some reason fascinated by the sight and at the same time wondering why the hell her stomach was squirming like it couldn't decide whether she was going to throw up or if she was hungry. Turning away from the scene, she let Larry guide her feet.

The party hadn't progressed as terribly as he thought it would, but the later it got the more faces he didn't recognize kept popping up. Sharpay was excited-- almost ecstatic really-- at the amount of people that had shown up, and in truth he was too busy getting over the enormity of her house to be much bothered by the quickly growing crowd. At the moment though, everything was all very far from him, and he contently held Gabriella in his arms as they swayed back and forth in the crowd and sweltering heat to the beat of the music.

Just as they turned, he caught something in the corner of his eye. A familiar figure that he wasn't quite sure he was recognizing correctly. You see, the Clara Bryant he had come to know wore her hair in her face and t-shirts and jeans. The girl he was currently observing, however, had on a shirt that not only fit her-- but showed a big chunk of her skin as well. The girl he was currently observing didn't have her hair in her face-- she had her hair tied up, showcasing her eyes and all of her irritability. The girl was also dancing with Larry Knight.

However, there could be no mistaking that the girl was in fact Clara Bryant.

For a second he forgot to keep moving his feet, and upon hearing Gabriella start to ask what was wrong he quickly muttered a "Nothing." and kept swaying back and forth, with one eye on the pair. It was an amusing sight, if anything, to see her frowning deeply as she moved Larry's hands up on her waist (instead of where they shouldn't be) every couple of minutes. The only trouble was that he-- that his stomach was... well, he didn't know. Quickly blaming it on the shrimp cocktail that Sharpay had forced down his throat earlier, he went back to dancing. When he looked back to the pair, however, they were no longer alone. A tall boy, lean, though apparantly muscular, now accompanied them. He was turned away from Troy, but it was obvious he was talking to Larry and Clara. All he could decipher of the guy was a head of short dark hair.

Then-- wait a second, was he grabbing Clara? The guy pushed Larry aside and seemed intent on getting Clara to talk to him-- but she didn't seem too happy. When the guy finally turned around and once again took a hold of Clara's shoulder Troy stopped moving altogether.

Oh shit.

So here she was, dancing with Lare Bear. (She was trying to come up with new nicknames for him in her head to pass the minutes away.) Fortunately for her, his usual smell was covered thickly by some sort of cologne-- and although it too smelled terrible, she preferred it over his natural aroma. He was also finally keeping his hands where they should be, like a gentleman. All these factors considered, she thought that-- hey-- she should give him a "Thanks." or a "This wasn't too bad." or maybe a "You don't smell that bad, I guess." The trouble was, just as she opened her mouth she was rudely interrupted by a third party.

"Now what is a girl like yourself doing dancing with a guy like that?" The deep voice cut in, and narrowing her eyes she turned to face the owner. A boy-- typical. Tall, dark hair, really nice green eyes and all. That was irrelevant though, jerks came in all shapes in sizes-- and this one had jerk written all over him. She rolled her eyes and turned around to face Larry again, intent on ignoring the Jerkus Mongus.

However, the guy seemed intent on getting her attention-- and before she knew it, one quick sweep of his hand and he had pushed Larry away from her, and now stood face to face with none other than herself. Oh, oh this guy was definitely going to regret he did that. She gathered up her wits and took a step forward. "Listen you moron, leave me alone or you'll be sorry you ever spoke to me." Her eyes were narrowed, her fists were clenched-- and if the guy had any sense whatsoever, he would have gone away by now.

It seemed he didn't though, as evident by him taking his own step forward-- taking a hold of her shoulder as she wrestled out of his grip. "Hey! Calm down! All I want is a dance-- come on, I don't bite unless you want me to!" he laughed, apparantly having a grand old time of her struggle and frustratedly she now resorted to raising her voice.

"LET GO," she demanded admantantly, "Who the hell are you anyways! Let go you JERK!" She realized by now that he was more than a little intoxicated, and the flashy lights probably weren't helping the guy's composure any. Maybe he wasn't usually this much of an ass. Alcohol sure did funny things to people, after all. It didn't mean, of course, that she felt so sorry she wasn't about two seconds away from kicking him where the sun don't shine. On the contrary, the two seconds were right about up.

"Shut up, your voice is so loud," he muttered at her as he pulled on her arm and held onto his head at the same time-- where the hell was Larry anyhow? Had he run away at the sign of trouble? Typical. "If there's anything I know in this world is that no girl has ever said no to Damien Sullivan."

Well, he was about to be in for a rude awakening then.

As soon as Troy had recognized the face, he didn't think twice before rushing over to the scene-- barely noticing the protests of the people he was bumping into along the way. By the time he'd gotten there, he'd caused enough of a scene to have more than a few pairs of eyes on him. He hadn't exactly had anything planned, because in the end, Troy Bolton wasn't much of a planner. Acting on instinct, he grabbed the guy's shoulder and turned him away from Clara.

He'd never thought his first meeting with Damien Sullivan would be like this. It took him a little bit of time to find his voice, as he observed the boy that was now facing him. They'd been, what, maybe 13 since they'd last seen each other? Damien was quite a few heads taller, filled out, grew into his ears-- now it was obvious that he was an athlete. With a set expression on his face, feigning surprise and a plethora of other emotions, Troy finally spoke.

"Leave her alone, Damien." His voice was even and quietly demanding-- despite who it was he was dealing with, Damien didn't have a right to treat any girl like the way he was treating Clara. Damien looked at him, and after frowning deeply he seemed to finally recognize who it was that was speaking to him. His face broke out into a terrible sort of grin.

"Troy Bolton?" he asked, incredulously. "Never thought I'd see you here in a million years," he wrapped an arm around Clara's shoulders-- and she immediately attempted to shrug them off. Icky. "I think we're fine here though, thanks."

Troy once again shoved Damien off the girl, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Just about everyone else was now blended into the background, sort of like a hazy dream where Damien was the only thing that wasn't blurring. "I'm serious, leave her alone." He wasn't kidding either, no matter how drunk Damien might have been-- there could be no mistaking the threatening edge in Troy's voice.

Damien stood still for a moment, and they both seemed to engage in something that likened to a staring contest. Though the notion was quickly broken as Damien took a step forward, coming eye to eye with the basketball star himself. "No." The same sardonic smile crept onto his features. "And, if you ever get in my way again-- it'll be the last time," he grunted, suddenly pushing Troy-- and caught unawares, he stumbled backwards onto the floor. Damien took another step forward, looking down at Troy with the utmost disgust. "You're still just like your father-- too stupid to know when to keep your mouth shut, and too dumb to do anything about it when you don't."

He turned around, but it was too late for apologies and rational talking-- something inside Troy just snapped. Without even thinking of the consequences, he flung himself towards Damien's back, and they both came crashing down onto the nearest table-- causing it to crumble right beneath them both. Before anyone had so much as blinked again, a full out brawl was taking place. The two fought their way around the living room, and the crowd parted whenever they got within a five foot radius. They ruined more tables, spilled all the refreshments, broke a mirror-- and still, the two continued at battle-- throwing punches, kicks, and wrestling each other onto the floor. It was only when Chad and a couple other members of Troy's team came upon the scene that anyone had enough sense to stop them.

As a collective effort, they pulled the two apart. The damage to the room was extensive, and by now all eyes were on them.

"LET ME GO," Troy cried as he struggled against the grip of his teammates. They were relentless in their efforts however, and Chad tried to talk some sense into Troy-- but before any of them could, Damien had already opened his big mouth. His lip was bleeding, he looked bruised, and also completely disheveled.

"Forget it," he spat out, as he struggled to catch his breath. "We'll settle this where it should be-- at the game." With that said, he turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

After Damien left, the room was silent as they viewed Troy's disheveled state with new emotion in their eyes. He wasn't exactly known for getting into fights like the one he'd just had. So when he looked at Gabriella-- who was struck between worry and disappointment-- and when he looked at Clara-- who's expression was totally unreadable-- and when he looked at the rest of his friends, he couldn't take any of it and so he too left without uttering another word. Pushing his way through the crowd as he approached the front door, he couldn't help but think that what had just happened had completely and totally messed everything up.

A/N: Next up is... more stuff AS WELL as Chad and Taylor. Because they didn't just disappear :P.