Author's Note: Ladies and Gnargles, I present to you the first stage of the festivities! Read and hopefully enjoy…

Disclaimer: Why am I still doing this? It's the OCD. I MUST type the word "Disclaimer" in every chapter!

Chapter 16

Van Milder- Part Un

Sharpay

Every person present that Saturday morning knew better than to approach Sharpay as Gabriella. She was in full party-planning mode, inaccessible and deadly. Even Troy resigned himself to working in silence, not daring to catch her eye.

This was nothing new for Sharpay, being something of a fascist dictator when it came to these things. But it was rather weird for the kind and innocuous Gabriella, so much so that her mother until further notice saw fit to pull her aside.

"Gabbie? Are you feeling all right? You seem a bit…high-strung."

"Is Mr. Alman here?" she inquired, peering down at her special pink book through her rose-tinted shades.

"No. Not yet. But sweetie-"

"And the Evans twins?"

"I don't think so-"

"Jeez," she hissed, rubbing her temples. "Does no one understand the meaning of punctuality? The band should've been here five minutes ago to set up, Sharpay is supposed to be my co-coordinator and she forgot to buy the extra freaking napkins. It just doesn't seem right!"

Mrs. Montez gave her a reproachful look. "Gabriella, I think you need to take it easy for a bit."

"Mother. I think you need to share my vision for a bit. Uh-tut-tut!" She held up a hand to halt her. "Mr. Alman will be here any minute now. You need to fluff up your hair more."

Mrs. Montez's hand drifted to her hair and she made her way uncertainly back into the house.

Sharpay sighed and looked out over the comfortably-sized garden, its freshly cut grass rippling, the multi-colored table cloths (rose, magenta, cherry, crimson) making everything seem brighter in the sun…

Three weeks of preparation had brought her to this moment. Sharpay had employed the Wildcats team and friends to help her that day. Troy and Chad were arranging tables, Kelsi, Martha and Taylor were sorting finger snacks. Zeke was slaving away in the kitchen (she had nearly reduced him to tears mere minutes ago). It was becoming clear to Sharpay that friends were not only good for the company, but for the labor as well.

At the heart of all the madness, however, Shar had not lost sight of why she came up with this idea in the first place. It was all to give those two middle-aged, star-crossed lovers a chance to see each other more often. Their relationship was flourishing wonderfully, albeit unhurriedly, under her care. Mr. Alman and Mrs. Montez were still trapped in that state of limbo. The stage that came before that bashful, almost juvenile confession, "I like you."

Finally, Mr. Alman and The Hedlunds arrived. Sharpay set about helping with the unloading of equipment while the aforementioned lovers rifled through some Santana albums Mrs. Montez had mentioned.

This was going to be a good day, from start to finish. She would make sure of it.

Gabriella

"Thanks for letting me get involved in this thing."

"Don't waste your thanks on me. Carrying paper plates isn't exactly involvement."

"Well, hey. If it means I get to see her more often, bring on the disposable utensils."

Gabriella as Sharpay laughed a little as she played with his hair, spiking it up lightly with her fingers. He sat on the floor by her bed and she fussed over him with what could be taken as sisterly affection.

Gabriella was not looking forward to the fundraiser. She had half-heartedly participated in the preparations, being more concerned with the idea of her mother actually dating.

Over the past few weeks she had resigned herself to the fact that Mrs. Montez actually was capable of romantic sentiments, even at the ripe old age of forty. But that didn't make her any more comfortable with it.

Gabriella was thirteen when her father died and for three years she had tried to fill the gap. She convinced herself that she could. Her mother would be her life and vice versa. Whoever else came into the equation, it would always be the two of them in the end. And that would be enough.

But it wasn't. In the back of her mind, in the darkest recesses of her heart, she knew it wasn't. So she got by with her school work and her friends and her boyfriend. What did her mother have? What did she actually have that was hers? Her smile.

So maybe Gabbie was selfish. Maybe they had both been deluded. Maybe it was time to move on. Change was always good.

"Hey! You up there." Ryan patted her cheek. "Quit drifting off! This is my bitching and moaning time. You can't drift off during my bitching and moaning time."

She blinked. "Right. How inconsiderate of me. Continue."

He looked up at her for a moment before sighing. "I love seeing her. I love talking to her. I just want to be around her. But she doesn't see me. She never really sees me."

Gabbie frowned. "I- she does see you," she said earnestly.

"No, she doesn't!"

"Well," she threw her hands up in the air, "you just need to be more assertive then. Make her notice you."

Ryan scoffed and for some reason it made her sad, and at the same time angry.

"You say that like it's simple. Be assertive. Bravado doesn't come easy to everyone, you know."

Yes. She knew. That was what made it so frustrating. But Sharpay didn't know so she didn't say it.

She sighed and gave his shoulder an encouraging little shove instead.

"Things can change, Ryan. But you have to want them to first. You can't always wait for it to happen."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe this is our milestone and we'll come back totally different people than we were before."

Gabbie smiled a little. She hoped so.

Sharpay

"What is she doing here?"

"Well, believe it or not-"

"Or not."

"-I didn't bring her. She wanted to come. Said her money was as good as anybody else's."

Gabriella was, of course, talking about Mrs. Evans, currently standing in between Mrs. Montez and Mr. Alman (in the literal sense that is). Sharpay and Gabriella watched them from the hallway. Shar was in such a state of exasperation all she could do was laugh.

The Gabriella in her body gave her an incredulous look but seemingly opted out of a jibe.

"I'm going to help Ryan with the rest of those dinky little plastic forks and knives."

"Good girl. You go make yourself useful now."

Sharpay ignored the glare this garnered and progressed stealthily into the living room. All three adults had their backs turned to her as they perused the book shelves (perused Mr. Alman in her mother's case). She tapped Mrs. Evans on the shoulder, and like a chain reaction they all turned to face her.

"Mrs. Evans," she said sweetly, "I think you left your headlights on."

She furrowed her brow, quickly cottoning on to Sharpay's intent. "Why would I have them on in the middle of the day?"

She shrugged. "That's what I'd like to know." She spun on her heel and walked out without another word. She could sense the exasperated sigh rather than hear it and a few seconds later they were hissing at each other outside the living room.

"I'm starting to think you're a very rude little girl, Gabriella. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"Afraid not, no."

She shook her attractive blonde head. "Are you going to make it your business to kill my fun?"

"Yes. If your fun comes at the expense of my mother. You're married, old lady!" she whisper-yelled. "You have kids that love you and need you to act like a real mum. So…stop embarrassing Sharpay and Ryan!"

For a moment, the woman looked genuinely appalled. "I do not embarrass my children."

Sharpay gave her a pointed look, her eyes darting down to the plunging neckline of her dress.

Mrs. Evans retorted with a defiant tilt of her chin but tugged vaguely at her outfit all the same.

"I don't embarrass my children," she reiterated.

"Yeah, well…you certainly hurt them."

They had a moment just then, a moment of truth really. Sharpay eradicated it by clearing her throat efficiently. "Now if you don't mind, I have things to do."

She had secured the last word, so Sharpay turned and made her way to the kitchen in triumph. But then, there came a niggling bit of anger after their dispute, a persistent ache, that had always been there, and always would be, no matter who's body she was in.

Gabriella

In the house, Taylor, Kelsi and the rest gave Gabriella fleeting greetings. It aroused a strong pang of loss. Her friends. She had almost gotten used to just the single friend.

She was happy to see her mother, not so much Mr. Alman (still, her dislike was starting to drip and dry out like some sort of leaky faucet). She was happy to see Marie and The Hedlunds (although this joy was probably not reciprocated). She was happy to see the Wildcats; Chad with his wide disarming grin, Jason with his dumb face, Zeke sniffing resentfully over a saucepan about who knew what.

And Troy. Troy waved to her and smiled, but it was not meant for her. The sudden change in his face was not for her, nor was the warm wink (who the hell still winked anyway?).

For Troy, she felt resentment, coupled with a faint longing, and crowded by a sisterly fondness. All this seemed to amount to nothing. She was losing the connection, and it scared her.

Gabriella dropped a box of glasses on her way back from the car and immediately took that as an omen. Not many broke but still, an omen.

This day would not end well.

Author's Note: Freakin' angst. It always manages to creep in somehow. A reflection of my own mood perhaps? I hope not. But anyway! That was Van Milder- Part Un. Part Deux coming soon to a computer screen near you. Or whatever.

R&R, beetches!