A/N: Some people requested Gabriella's response, so I decided to write up one. It might not be very good, but hey, I tried. Gabriella might be a little OOC, so I apologize.

Disclamier: I don't own itttttttt.

Troy,

Well, I got your letter. Obviously. I think running up to me in the hall and screaming, "TAKE THIS AND READ IT ALONE!" and then shoving it in my hands, while proceeding to scurry off in the opposite direction would make it pretty clear that I had gotten it.

Because if I didn't, then I don't think I would be replying. In fact, I even thought about not replying. I seriously considered talking to your actual face; but then I remembered what you said at the end of your…er…correspondence. So I decided not to, and to reply in a letter also. Cause, then you know, to not reply at all, would just be rude. And I like to think that I'm not rude.

Am I?

Cause you can tell me, you know. And then I'll just have to work on that.

But, anyway, I'm in the middle of calculus at the moment. I know, I know, the 'brain', freaky math girl is writing a letter back instead of taking notes. Extraordinary, isn't it? But I felt that I needed to write this now, instead of later. Because who knows, by then, I could have forgotten everything I had wanted to write. And then that wouldn't have been very good, now would it? But, I have a not-taking-notes plan. It's simple; slump into my chair in the back and write this correspondence, while I get my notes from Taylor later. Not that she'll give them to me without asking a billion questions or putting up a fight.

You're lucky you're my friend, Bolton.

Anywho, first up. Your writing. Well, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Some people just aren't writers. And, well, it seems that you're one of those people. And it's quite all right, really. But I'm glad you warned me ahead of time. Because I really wasn't prepared for what you were going to proceed to put in writing; but in all I'm glad you did, for reasons you shall find out later.

As for Darbus and your locker; well, I can't really say anything on that topic, except that you should really consider hiring a professional team to clean that out. Or spray it with Lysol or some other strong, killing-germ cleaner. Because you know, if you don't, then you have bugs, bad aromas, staring bystanders…a lot of other things that you just don't want to be affiliated with.

And don't worry, Troy, a lot of people have that problem. Smelly lockers, that is. Honestly, did you see Jesse Monson's? His is next to mine, and it reeks of something I don't even want identified. But, moving away from this topic of conversation...

Oh, and don't fret; my character is in tact, thank you very much. I didn't skip down to the last paragraph to find out what it was that you wanted to get across. If at all, I was shocked you thought I would do such a thing! I mean, I'm not Chad, Troy. I at least have some decency.

Now, for that algebra worksheet that you mentioned.

I have to say I'm a little let down. I could've sworn we went over formulas at least twenty times on Tuesday at your house. The gesture of you writing a letter to me instead is really sweet and caring; but you know, the freaky math girl part of me comes out somewhere. So, are you not getting the algebra because of me? Maybe we should get Taylor to teach you instead…maybe she'll do a better job at it than me. Or we'll just have to work extra hard and long at it.

…Okay, not quite what I meant. Ignore that.

Aww, Troy, are you trying to say you were jealous? I know you said not to laugh…but gosh, Troy. Evan Finch? I wouldn't lose sleep over Evan, Bolton. Though I am proud of you for admitting that you were jealous, he's just a friend. The thought of me and him…no. I don't think he's really my type. He's nice and caring, but he likes Georgina Woods. As a matter of fact, he was asking me to see if she liked him when we were walking to class that day. And besides, I already have feelings for someone.

Now, I suppose you want me to be all easy going and tell you who that is?

Ha! Nice try, Bolton.

Although people say that I am overly nice and have no backbone, this is not one of those times. You're just going to have to wait. And before you read the next paragraph, I just want to make sure that we're the only ones who know about these…letters. Because if I make a complete fool out of myself with the next few paragraphs, and it turns out that Chad, Jason and everyone else has read them, then that could end badly. Trust me, you do not want to see me extremely irate and have a pair of pliers. Ask Taylor.

Not to seem intimidating or anything.

So, if you made it this far down, then you're the only one reading this. Good. Because, well, I've never really been good at expressing my feelings either. But first off, I just want to say that I was really touched that you wrote me such a letter. Sure, you were right, it was rather awkward and...sort of cheesy, in a way, but I think I got what you mean. Or, at least I hope I got what you mean.

But…from what I could gather from your letter…are you trying to say you love me?

And if that statement is completely off, I apologize. But, truthfully, it's really what I got. The jealously, your other feelings, the 'I like you. Incalculably.' (Which by the way, is indeed a math word, so I'll let the algebra thing from earlier slide) is really what made me come to that conclusion. And like I said…if it's off, then you can just stop reading this as I continue to make a complete fool out of myself.

And you know, if that's what you were trying to say…then I guess I have to tell you my feelings now. But you see, I don't really know how to say it either. Because, well, as you know, I'm the freaky math girl. Guys weren't exactly tackling over each other to go out with me. So I'm not used to this type of stuff.

But what I guess I'm trying to say is…I love you too.

There. Happy? I admitted my feelings on a piece of paper, while not paying attention to my very hard math class. And before I go, maybe we should, you know, meet somewhere and talk about this? Just for formalities, you know. Because if we didn't, then that would just be plain awkward, don't you think? I can just picture it now:

You: Hey, Gabriella

-Insert pause here-

Me: Oh, hi Troy.

-Insert longer pause here-

You: Uhm…so what's up?

And it goes on…trying to ignore the fact that we both wrote letters 'confessing' our feelings and pretending that it never happened. That would just be a bummer, because we would be stuck in this awkward limbo thing that no one wants to be stuck in. And not to mention all the trees that we used to write these...notes. But luckily, I told you to meet me at the roof top, in about five minutes when class ends. Ha! Little did you know you would be receiving this…er…letter and going to be talking about it.

So, I'm going to wrap this up now, because my calculus notes are probably way to far behind than where they should be. And Mr. Matthews is looking at me strangely. Which probably means he's catching on to me and my not-taking-notes plan. So this is me, Gabriella Montez signing off.

I always wanted to say that.

-Gabriella