Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. As I said in the previous chapter, I was in Greece. I got back Wednesday, but had serious jetlag. I've spent the last couple days trying to catch up on sleep while packing and getting ready to go to Houston tomorrow. I'll be gone ten days for a leadership forum on medicine, so don't expect another update until August 2 at the earliest. I realize now that it probably wasn't a great idea to start this fic when I had so little time to update, but it's a little late for that. I'm already working on my next fic, so that one should go a little bit more smoothly.

I hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Only a few chapters left, I'm aiming somewhere around 15, give or take a few.

A/N 2: Someone posing as me posted an anonymous review of Degenerate X's story "An Angels Falling, a Devil's Uprising," accusing them of stealing the plot from my story, "This is How a Heart Breaks." I was upset and ashamed by this, especially that someone would think I could make a statement like that. I would like all my readers to know that it was not me, and that I don't even agree with the statement made. Thank you.

Enjoy!

Gabriella rolled over in bed and shut of her alarm clock, ending the incessant beeping that had been invading her consciousness for the last five minutes. Cracking open one eye, she looked around her room critically. Bright sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating everything around her. The clock next to her head read 6:30 A.M.

"Time for school," she groaned, rolling back over and flipping the covers off her body. She dragged herself from the comfort of her mattress, trudging over to her closest. Reaching in blindly, she pulled out a pale purple sweater and a pair of jeans. With little enthusiasm, she pulled on the clothes, grabbing a brush from her dresser and running it through her hair before jamming her feet into sneakers and heading downstairs.

It had been a month since Troy's funeral, a month that had been very unkind to Gabriella. She had developed her new routine days after they buried him, rolling out of bed and grabbing the first thing she could find, giving little thought or care to her appearance. She'd then walk downstairs, sit at the table with a bowl of cereal, refusing to eat. She'd grab her car keys from the hook by the door and be at school by 7:15.

The same held true for today. Gabriella walked into the kitchen, greeted her mother, who was seated at the table nursing a cup of coffee while she read the newspaper, and pulled out a box of cereal. Taking her bowl, she sat across from her mother, absently eating a few bites before pushing the bowl away.

"Aren't you going to eat?" her mother asked, looking concernedly at Gabriella.

"Not hungry," Gabriella said quietly, her eyes focused on her spoon as she twirled it in the morning sunlight.

Ms. Montez sighed.

"Gabi, you have to eat. You're going to starve yourself."

"I'm not hungry, okay, mom? Leave me alone."

Gabriella stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back from the table and storming over to her car keys. Yanking them off the hook, she wrenched open the back door.

"Gabriella!" her mother called after her, unable to reach her as she stormed out to her car. Ms. Montez sighed when she heard the motor start up in the driveway. "Please don't do this," she whispered to herself, shaking her head as she listened to her daughter pull away.

Chad stood in front of his locker in the gym, staring at the bright red door without really seeing it. They had made it to the championship game long before Troy had been shot. They had had it in the bag since their first game. The only left now was to play.

Chad himself knew he wouldn't be out on the court with his teammates. He couldn't bring himself to play ball on the same court without his best friend, couldn't bring himself to face the truth. As he opened his locker, his clean game jersey caught his eye, forcing him to look away as he took it out and threw it in a bag. He could remember all the times he had worn that jersey with Troy, all the games they had won, as well as the ones they had lost. Shaking his head, he pulled out the rest of the stuff in the locker, throwing that into the bag as well.

Having completely emptied his locker, he slung his bag over his shoulder, slamming the door shut and staring at it for a few moments. Sighing, he ripped his name off the front, twirling it in his hands for a few seconds. As he left the locker area to head to Coach Bolton's office, his eyes alighted on Troy's locker, the red-and-white name plate still clearly visible on the shiny red metal of the locker door. Chad felt tears spring to his eyes as he realized that no one had probably even touched the locker since Troy's death.

He walked to the coach's door, knocking quietly on the wood frame.

"Come in!" Jack Bolton's muffled voice beckoned him in from where he stood. Chad was taken aback at the sight of several packing boxes lying around the room.

"Coach? What's going on?"

Jack paused with a trophy in his hands, turning to look at Chad.

"I'm cleaning out my office. I resigned, Chad. I couldn't take it anymore." Jack turned to the nearest box and unceremoniously tossed the trophy into it, along with several folders and a basketball.

"You quit, coach? Just like that? What about the championship? The season?"

"They'll get someone else," Jack said without feeling, throwing more things into the box. "Is there a reason you're here, Chad?"

Chad swallowed for a moment, fingering the name plate in his hands. He stepped forward.

"I came to give this back, coach. I'm quitting the team."

Sharpay sat in the auditorium, only half-listening to Ms. Darbus as she explained that they would be holding more auditions for the roles of Tony and Maria, seeing as Gabriella had dropped out after Troy's death. In the back of her mind, Sharpay knew that she and Ryan would probably get the leads now, and someone else would take their spots. The thought didn't entice her like it would have a year before.

Ryan looked over at her, noting the blank look her eyes held. He shook his head slightly, sighing to himself. It seemed to him that nothing could reach Sharpay anymore. She was too far gone, too jaded by what they had witnessed. He knew she had every right to feel as she did. To be frank, he himself felt the same on many occasions. They had seen a young man, not too much older than they were, shoot three people in cold blood, before turning the gun on himself and putting a bullet in his head.

Ryan shuddered as he remembered the sound of the gun as it went off. That sound still haunted his nightmares, as well as the image of Troy's body lying in a pool of blood. He knew they still haunted his sister, too. She had come running to him several nights in tears, unable to deal with the nightmares that plagued her. He'd hold her and comfort her, but deep in his heart he knew that nothing he said ever made it better. Nothing could make it better.

Kelsi stood behind Ms. Darbus as the teacher explained the procedure for the auditions, but she wasn't paying attention. She was watching Sharpay and Ryan, watching as the latter tried to get through to his sister. Despite all the torture Sharpay had put her through the year before, the two had grown close over the summer, and it pained her to see a friend in so much pain.

It seemed that everyone was in pain lately. Even though she herself wasn't as close to Troy as the others, she still was shaken and upset by his death. It killed her to watch Jason as he struggled with his feelings, killed her to watch him try to cope with the death of one of his closest friends. She knew it hurt him more than he let on, but there was nothing she could do for him. There was nothing she could do for any of them.

"Excuse me, Ms. Darbus, I have to go," Kelsi said suddenly, dashing from the auditorium and into the hall. She suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion, and she needed air.

"Kelsi?"

She looked up. Jason was standing in front of her, looking at her concernedly. She let out a choked sob, throwing herself into his arms, much to his surprise.

"Kels, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I hate this, Jason," she sobbed into his shoulder. "Everyone else is hurting but I can't help them. I can't help you. I don't know what to do."

Jason, startled, reached out to wipe tears from her cheeks.

"It's alright, Kels, it's going to be okay," he whispered, pulling her close to him and holding her as she cried.

Kellie Bolton stood in her kitchen, holding a pot of hot coffee in her hands. She had been in the process of making coffee when she stopped, wondering why she was. Nothing seemed to make sense to her anymore. Everything she did seemed uncontrolled. She was living completely on auto-pilot.

Shaking slightly, Kellie took out a mug and struggled to fill it with coffee. The pot slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, shattering instantly. The hot liquid spread out from the point of impact, creating a small sea of caffeine. Cursing, Kellie grabbed a dish towel, dropping to her knees at the mess.

"I'm such an idiot," she whispered to herself, wiping at the coffee spill without much success. Her hand brushed against a shard of glass and instantly a cut appeared across her palm, bright red blood blossoming quickly. Kellie dropped the towel, falling back to the floor and sitting against the cabinets, crying softly to herself as she held her hand close to her body.

She couldn't believe that she had become such a mess after Troy's death. Even the simplest tasks took a concerted effort, and she was having more and more difficulty dragging herself out of bed in the mornings.

After several minutes on the floor, Kellie managed to collect herself somewhat, wrapping her hand in a towel and trying to stop the bleeding. As she walked toward the bathroom her eyes landed on the locked liquor cabinet, and idea forming in her grief-riddled mind.

Zeke stood outside the ICU room, bracing himself as he prepared to go in. He knew that none of his friends would approve of his actions, but he felt that someone needed to talk to the teen behind this tragedy, someone needed to get closure for the group. Drew had been awake for two days, but no one else had wanted to come to him, too afraid of facing Troy's killer. Taking a deep breath, Zeke put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, walking into the darkened room.

Drew lay in the bed, his head wrapped in several layers of white gauze. Several tubes and wires surrounded the bed, but he himself was awake. His eyes darted toward the door when Zeke walked in.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly, his voice slow and filled with pain. As Zeke got closer he could see that Drew's eyes were clouded with sadness and grief.

"I am-" he paused, thinking, "-was-a friend of Troy Bolton. The guy you shot and killed."

Drew sighed and looked away.

"I didn't come here to forgive you, or anything like that," Zeke said plainly, his eyes boring into Drew's. "I want to know why. Why'd you do it? He had a girlfriend, he had parents, he had a future." Zeke put emphasis on the last word, trying to get his point through.

"I don't know why, okay?" Drew said angrily. "That's what I told the cops, my parents, everyone. I don't know."

"Do you know his girlfriend doesn't eat anymore? She can't bring herself to enjoy life without Troy in it. His best friend quit the basketball team because he can't stand to play without him. His father quit his job. His mom hasn't come out of the house since the funeral."

"What are you trying to do, man, make me feel guilty? You think I don't? I killed two people! I shot my own brother! You think I don't regret it every day?"

"You should feel guilty, Drew. You murdered one of my closest friends in cold blood. I hope to God you rot in jail."

Drew didn't say anything, but merely looked away from Zeke's piercing stare.

"I don't blame you," he said quietly. "You deserve to hate me, you all do. I just-I know I have no right-but could you apologize to his parents for me? And his girlfriend? I know what it's like to lose someone close."

Zeke stopped for a moment, looking at Drew critically.

"I don't think I can do that," he said coolly, turning and walking from the room. He had gotten what he needed. He had found some amount of closure in knowing that at the very least Drew regretted what he had done. Now if only the others could find solace as well.

A/N: Well, that was kind of long. And weird. I hope you guys liked it, though. As for Zeke always being the calm, sane one, I just felt I needed one level head, and he seemed to fit. Chad's too close, Jason I have other plans for, Taylor isn't' as big a character, and the other's don't really make sense. So Zeke it is!

Reviews greatly appreciated, as always!

If anyone was wondering why I write a lot of Jason scenes lately, I can't really explain. Only that I suddenly became obsessed with his character. I think it's a great character because it can be developed on so much. My next story actually happens to be a Jason-centric. The trailer will be posted at the end of this.

Coming in Chapter 10 (August 2 or later): Kellie starts to develop a problem…the team's first game without Troy (and Chad)…maybe another appearance by Drew (if you guys liked the first one)