As I stared back at him, I tried to look intense rather than the confused way I was actually feeling.

"Well . . . it's not that bad or anything," Troy explained, "I should have told you before actually."

"Gabriella! Is that you?" my mother yelled from inside the house.

"Yes mom, I'm home!" I called back.

She appeared in the doorway with a 'suspicious' mom look on her face, "Hello Troy."

"Hello Ms. Montez," he greeted her happily, "I was just leaving . . . see you Gabriella."

He did a little spin and started to walk away, scoffing the ground with his foot. I reached my hand out, looking as if I was sort of waving, but I really just wanted him to stay. He glanced back and gave me a small wave and a smile.

My mother drilled me as soon as I stepped through the door.

"So what's going on between you two?"

What's going on? That's exactly what I wanted to know.

"Nothings going on mom," I answered vaguely, "Troy is a friend."

"Are you sure?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Yes!" I snapped back, "I'm sure . . . why do you care?"

I know I was being a bratty daughter, though I wasn't quite prepared for her answer.

"Doesn't he remind you of Carlos?" she wondered, a glint of sadness and remembrance showing in her gaze.

"Yes . . . well actually he does," I told her, admitting out loud what I had thought about so many times.

"The way he acts toward you, and even the way he walks and talks," she pointed out.

I paused, reminiscing about my brother . . . and his likeliness to Troy.

"Mom," I began, "Troy is actually my boyfriend."

And then she said what I never expected her too.

"I know," she smiled, patting me on the back.

My mother's warming approval of Troy made me rethink something. As I lay on my bed, attempting to sleep, thoughts bounced around in my head like ping pong balls.

Was the only reason I liked Troy because of his similarities to Carlos?

And what could Troy's secret possibly be?

More than ever, I just wanted to talk to Carlos . . . to show him how much his sister has grown up.

The next day was Saturday. I waited for Troy to call . . . and waited some more. I was waiting a little bit more, when I finally realized how stupid it was for me to be waiting around for him.

I finally settled on a trip to the library. The weather was playing off my fair mood as I walked the short distance. The library for me was similar to Troy's 'spot' at school. It helped me think when I was in a quiet environment like that. It was also comforting to be around all those books. Books weren't living, breathing things. There was no need to please them, and no hearts in them to break. They would never get mad at you. They left opportunity for something new, yet opening one was like returning to an old friend.

In the moment as I thought of friends, I spotted Taylor reading at a table in the corner. I debated whether or not to talk to her.

What would I say? I've been too busy being stressed out about a brother you don't even know I have? Troy Bolton finally asked me out, and I'm his first girlfriend? I'm too busy to come to decathlon meeting and otherwise talk to you?

"Gabriella!" Taylor called softy, motioning me over to where she was sitting.

Or maybe I was just over reacting, and overly analyzing everything.

"Hey Taylor," I said, taking a seat across from her.

"How have you been?" she asked me.

"Oh, just fine," I lied, "busy."

"Yeah, I figured with the musical and all," she told me, "and how is our resident basketball superstar?"

I laughed, "He'd kill you if you called him that. He's great, fine."

She looked at me suspiciously.

"We're going out!" I screeched, leaving out the first girlfriend bit for Troy's sake.

We were met with menacing glares from the library staff.

"Finally," she whispered, "I'm happy for you."

"What about Chad?"

"What about him?" she asked, "we never talk, because we don't really have much in common."

"Really? I'll have to talk to him for you . . ."

"No! It's okay, really," she tried to convince me, "how much could a brain like me and a jock like him have in common anyway?"

I glared at her.

"Oh you and Troy are different," she decided, not too convincingly.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy for us to . . . break stereotypes, but come on Taylor, you're supposed to be on my side!

But it was good to catch up with her, and she obviously wasn't mad. We were making plans to meet up for a movie night when my cell phone rang.

Oh get over it librarians! I thought, answering it before I disturbed the entire world or whatever they thought I was doing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Gabriella," said a cheery voice on the other side, making me smile like crazy.

Unmistakably, it was Troy's voice.

Here we go.

"What did Troy say?" Taylor asked after I had hung up.

"How did you know it was Troy?"

"Oh come on, I know your Troy voice," she laughed.

Troy voice?

"I have a . . . Troy voice?" I wondered.

"Well you get all super-sweet and giggly," she noticed.

I was suddenly aware of the way my voice sounded. What if he thought I was a totally weird dork or something?

"Oh, well he just wanted to meet later," I explained, "So are we on for Friday after the musical?"

"Yeah, but are you sure you don't want to hang out with Troy after?"

"I'll be seeing plenty of him!" I laughed, "There's a cast party on Saturday when it's over."

"Oh alright," she smiled.

I was glad to have caught up with Taylor, but I felt guilty for not spilling about Carlos. What was I supposed to say, 'By the way, I feel guilty when I sing because I feel like I'm betraying my brother that you didn't know I have?'. Um no, I'll pass on explaining that one again.

Troy and I were supposed to meet outside the Starbucks. He was waiting for me as I walked up the sidewalk. I was leaning non-chalantly against a sign post as he stared at the passing cars. When he spotted me, his face lit up with a wide smile.

"Hey," he said, greeting me with a hug.

I breathed in deeply. He smelled like . . . fruit.

"Strawberries?" I asked, looking up into his eyes.

He made a funny face.

Score one for loser Gabriella . . . why did I have to ask such dumb questions? Now he would probably think I'm weird . . .

"What are you talking about?" he asked, tilting his head to one side like a puppy.

"You smell like strawberries," I pointed out.

His confused expression turned into one of laughter.

"My mom buys the economy sized shampoo bottles," he informed me, "so I always get stuck smelling like a different fruit scent until it runs out."

Great one Gabriella, you've got him talking about shampoo . . . how romantic.

"Hey do I talk funny around you?" I asked.

Score two for loser Gabriella. Remind me not to talk anymore . . .

"You're in a good mood today," he noticed, "and I don't think you talk funny . . . it's cute."

Cute like a puppy . . . I remembered recently comparing him to a puppy. Great, we're like two puppies.

"Come on," he said, motioning for me to go through the door, "after you."

My prince charming.

Coffee places and cafes always had such a relaxing atmosphere. If the library wasn't my 'spot', I would come here to do homework. Everyone here seemed so 'artsy' and I guess I would like to think of myself as that.

I pressed my hands on the side of the hot chocolate I had ordered. Warmth spread through my fingertips. I looked up at Troy who was drinking some weird type of coffee-drink-thing.

"Like you need the caffeine," I joked.

"How else do you think I have so much energy?" he asked, pointing to the cup, "I run on these things."

I spun my cup around and took a sip. It was perfect . . . and I was always picky about my hot chocolate. I wondered if I kissed Troy right now, if it would be warm and taste like coffee beans. But . . . I still had something else on my mind, and I knew he did too.

"So . . . what's the secret?" I asked.

"Way to cut to the chase," he laughed.

I glared at him as if to say, "come on just tell me!"

"Okay, okay, you don't have to give me the death look," he joked, but the turned suddenly serious, "you know how we won the state championship basketball game?"

"Yeah."

"Well, people go to those games, important people . . . talent scouts," he informed me, "I was offered a scholarship for this prestigious basketball school for next year."

"Troy that's great, but does that mean . . ."

"If I take it . . . I'll have to move because it's a boarding school."

It hit me hard, the disappointment and sadness that washed over me. So this was the end of us.

"Don't look like someone died," he laughed, "I don't even want to go . . . my dad wants me to."

"But Troy! You can't miss an opportunity like this!" I said, knowing I was telling the truth, "This is your dream."

"I have a ton of time to think about it," he told me, "just don't mention it to anyone. I don't want the team to think I'm going to ditch them next year. I probably won't even go anyway."

A flow of relief came over me.

"I . . . really want you to stay," I explained, "but if you go, I'll miss you a lot."

"I'd miss you too! I mean . . . if I'm gone who will you conquer next year's musical with?"

I laughed. He placed his hand over mine. For a brief moment everything was okay.

Someone at the table next to ours stood up behind Troy, so only I could see him.

It was . . . Ryan Evans.

Was he . . . spying on us? I couldn't tell . . . so didn't think about it, or mention it to Troy.