Author's Note: Yuss. Christa is back with fanfictions for the time being. I'm aiming for valedictorian, so this'll be updated here and there. This isn't a one-shot. -gaspers- Anyway. I hope you enjoy. And you'll find out Gabriella's problem later, I guess. As will I. I'm not entirely too sure what it is, but I have an idea. Total Troyella, foos.

I fumbled around with my locker, kicking it forcefully three times with my right foot. My books crashed to the floor; I could hear incoherent snickering taking place behind me. Breathe, Gabby, breathe, I told myself, squeezing my eyes shut and taking what were supposed to be soothing breaths but were, instead, raspy choking sounds that resulted in a sob that refused to escape my throat. Tears welled up inside my eyes, and I raised my eyebrows as I opened them in hopes of drying out the extra water. My shoulders sagged as I reluctantly bent down to pick up my books and take another crack at my stupid lock.

Tug… twist, twist, twist… spin, click… it finally came undone. At least one thing wasn't going horribly awry. "Stupid lock… stupid books… stupid school… stupid grades… stupid mom… stupid boyfriend…" I stomped my foot childishly, doing what I promised myself I'd never do—live for the moment. It didn't work for my mom, and it certainly wouldn't work for me. Future consequences? I. Don't. Think. So.

Really, I was very practical. Sometimes, as I was often reminded, too practical for my own good. But, right then, I didn't care. I didn't even know what I thought of anything or anyone else. I couldn't be sure of anything anymore. The world seemed like pi. (Leave it to me to boil every occurrence in my life to some sort of mathematical way. I think my first language is Algebraic.) Once you thought you had it all figured out, more digits came. It wasn't fair. Life was throwing curveballs at me.

Heck. All I wanted to do was to get out without having to see or talk to anyone. With this in mind, I turned around swiftly and full of purpose…

"Ow."

Leave it to Troy to show up when and where you don't want him to be. I shifted my books to the other side of my hip, muttering something that, even now, I can't understand or recall in the least. "Sorry," I said evenly, not looking up at him. I tried to strategically inch away from him with every word I said. This never worked. Troy always had ways. Always.

"You're late."

"What the crap for?" My words weren't so even anymore, and my chest was rising and falling at a speed too rapid to be good.

I half-expected Troy to answer with a "Whoa… what did I do?" in this offended way. But you can never expect anything from Troy. I've learned that.

But I was still surprised when an "Um… lunch?" slid out of his lips, as smooth and slick as a well-oiled machine.

I was taken aback, that was for sure. I laughed a cold, steely laugh. "What do you mean? You were serious?" I dared to look up at him. I couldn't read him very well. Was he disappointed? What was it now? Pangs of guilt tugged at the edge of my heart; I could have sworn I had physically felt it rip my ventricles into shreds.

Troy laughed, too, but in this sad, shallow way. I wasn't sure whether or not it was better than my cruel one. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I had to think about this one for awhile. I hardly remembered when he had asked… it had to have been about three weeks ago. Then it all came back to me. We'd had to reschedule so many times around our respective extracurriculars that it'd, surprisingly, slipped my mind. Surprisingly because, all things considered, the day he'd asked had been the most ecstatic day of my life.

I sat on the swings at the park. A cool breeze blew my scarf around. I laughed every time it did, smiling contentedly at Troy, the best friend I'd ever had, who had been sitting next to me.

"Just take it off, Gabs," Troy'd laugh, his azure eyes twinkling teasingly. He'd put a hand on the back of his neck, running it through his thick brown hair sometimes.

"You know you're cold," I rolled my eyes as he fingered his neck again. "Just take it." I held out the navy blue felt scarf to him.

Then… out of nowhere, he'd said it. "Would you like to eat lunch with me sometime next week?"

As far as I was concerned, that was a marriage proposal if it was anything. The goofiest, slap-happy smile spread wide on my face as I threw the scarf into the air with it landing on the pole.

I was so happy I could've kissed him.

And I did.

The scarf was still on the swings; an ever-ready reminder of my foolishness. I shrugged the feeling off, literally, and Troy must've noticed. "I'm sorry. I've been really busy…"

Troy's face contorted into this hurt look that I'd never seen on him before. I didn't like the look for him. Yup. There went the left ventricle. I ignored the guilt and plunged on. "It's just that—"

"Hey, if you don't want to go… then you can just say so," his voice, always confident or soothing, now sounded timid and weak, as though his legs might crumple beneath him at any moment. I stepped backward, not sure I was able to catch him in case it did happen.

I know what I should've said. I should've told him the truth. I could have told someone. I should've told someone. But I didn't. "Thanks. I don't want to go."

I still remember how loud the door squeaked as it swung closed behind me.