Author's Note: I'm glad you all seem to be happy with where the stories headed and once again thank you all so much for your reviews! As a writer reviews and criticism really helps me see where I need to improve and what I should just leave the same! I hope this chapter helps bring more insight to both of the characters and their struggles and also how their struggles will eventuallyintertwine.


I tried to be perfect,

It just wasn't worth it

Nothing could ever be so wrong.

It's hard to believe me,

It never gets easy,

I guess I knew that all along.

--Pieces by Sum 41


Gabriella Montez was working hard to keep her gaze directly in front of her. If she looked to her left she would see her track friend Riley Donovan sprinting in her lululemon black yoga pants and bright green Nike sports bra. The last thing Gabriella wanted to see at six-thirty in the morning was Riley's flat abs and thin legs running alongside of her. On her right was a petite old lady with white hair and a soft smile. The woman was power walking on the treadmill and Gabriella was pretty sure that she was so frail one wrong move on the machine and multiple bones inside her would crack.

The thin, olive toned girl focused on the red wall in front of her, feeling like she was boxed in. This was why she preferred to run outside, she felt so much more open and free. As long as she ran faster than every other girl, she didn't have to watch as their perfect bodies moved gracefully around the track or through the course during cross country season. In the gym she was surrounded, surrounded by judging faces and stale air. And at least outside she wasn't sweating her ass off in fleece sweatpants and her East High Ladies XC sweatshirt. Outside if she stayed far enough ahead of the other runners she was fine wearing shorts and a t-shirt, sure they would judge her if they saw her legs, but only if they could catch up to her. In the gym everyone could see her, whether they were lifting weights or on an elliptical machine, there was no place to hide.

Her feet pounded on the treadmill in front of her, she only had one mile left. One mile, she could make it, she always did. She was dripping in sweat, the heavy clothes she was wearing only making it worse, but she didn't care. Sweating was an like a badge of honor she wore proudly. The sweat was a symbol of how hard she was working, the sweat was proof that she was better than the girl behind her. It showed how hard she was willing to push herself, to be the best. It was always about being the best to Gabriella, the best daughter, the best friend, the best in the class, the best runner, the best looking. Gabriella worked so hard to be the best at everything she did and in her eyes it seemed like no matter how hard she tried to be the best and to be perfect she always fell a few steps behind.

Three-tenths of a mile to go. Gabriella kicked up the speed on her treadmill and sprinted towards the finish. That was another thing she hated about running inside, when she ran outside there was some physical location that proved she had crossed over from racing to the finish, inside the only proof were the numbers on the treadmill's screen staring at up at her.

"Finished!" she panted as the numbers ticked up and she smiled triumphantly. Unlike the scale, the higher the number on the treadmill was, the bigger the victory. She let her eyes quickly glance to her left and she noticed Riley walking slowly along the treadmill, already finished with her workout. She hated the easy confidence that Riley had as she inhaled and exhaled, showing the world her bare, toned stomach. Gabriella couldn't imagine what it would take for her to do something like that. Even before her diet and she had realized how much weight she needed to lose, she had always been shy. She wasn't the type of girl who liked to expose to much skin outside of wearing a bathing suit to Mickler's Lake.

"Damn girl," Riley said laughing, "I don't know how you do it. I've been walking for ten minutes and I was just doing sprints. And please tell me how you are wearing sweats. It's like a furnace in here."

Gabriella shrugged and let her midnight colored curls out of the messy bun on top of her head. Someone who ran the way Gabriella did would never be able to make someone who didn't hold the same exact passion understand why she ran the way she did. Some people liked running and some people had a passion for running, but for Gabriella it was different. Gabriella lived and breathed to feel her legs pump up and down and her mind push her to take just one more step. She lived for the challenge of forcing herself to always be stronger than her opponents, even when her opponent was herself. Running was something that Gabriella had complete control over, unlike her home's interior design, her dad's workaholic tendencies, Troy's inability to notice her, or her reflection in the mirror. When Gabriella ran she felt like she was flying, it wasn't a difficult task or a dreaded one, it just was. Running was a part of Gabriella, without it she wouldn't know who she was.

"Are you ready to get out of here?" Gabriella asked her friend after walking slowly for few minutes.

"I thought you were never going to ask," Riley responded. The girls both hit the bright red stop button in the center of the machines and climbed off. After they cleaned off their machines, they walked towards the locker room on the other side of the gym past the weights and rows of stationary bikes. "Thanks for running inside with me," Riley said to her friend.

"You're welcome," she said. "I have to run outside tomorrow though." There were only so many days she could run on a strip of moving rubber and say that she was really running. As much as people liked to pretend, running on a treadmill was never going to be able to give her the feeling she craved. She couldn't ever seem to escape from her own thoughts when she ran inside and there was no way could run on a treadmill more than every other day without losing her mind.

Riley blinked her light green eyes and shook her head, making small beads of sweat fly out of her dark brown hair, "You're officially crazy."

Gabriella laughed and let a sweet soft melody escape from her throat, "Maybe I am," she said sincerely. "Are you going to the game tonight?"

Riley nodded, "Of course I am!" Riley reacted with the same bewildered tone Gabriella had used when Troy had asked her if she was going. At East High it was just expected that you were going to go to every basketball game, asking was more of just a formality to make conversation. "I know you're probably going with Taylor and the rest of your friends, but we should meet up there or something."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Gabriella agreed, pushing open the heavy metal door that read: Women's Lockers.

"Is this going to be the year you can finally wear the practice jersey with the number fourteen on it to the games?" Riley teased her friend as she unlocked the third locker in the second bay.

Gabriella rolled her dark eyes and shot a dirty look at her friend as she opened the locker next to Riley's. Riley Donovan and Gabriella Montez weren't exactly best friends, but Riley knew more about Gabriella than some of her closest friends did. The girls had been running together since sixth grade when they met on the Spring Lake Meadows Middle School Cross Country Team. Sports teams became something like a family to the members of the team, sure her best friends weren't on the team, but the Track team had become like her family. Her dad had remarried the spring before and she had complained about her new step mother to Riley and the other girls over long runs. When Riley's own father remarried that winter the girls had bonded over a hate for their step moms. Even though Riley wasn't her best friend, the two girls had been through so much together and Gabriella knew she could trust the brunette with anything. Which is why she knew about Gabriella's feelings for Troy and the fact Gabriella's brain seemed to turn to mush whenever he was around.

"Maybe if I could learn how to speak around him," Gabriella told her friend.

Riley laughed and grabbed her shower kit from her locker. "It's still really early. We should have time to hit Mama G's for breakfast if we shower fast," Riley suggested. "And I'm starving, after all that sprinting I could seriously go for a massive omelette or something."

Gabriella winced at the thought. An omelette did sound amazing. She stared into her locker contemplating her options, she could go out to breakfast with Riley and then while they were waiting for the check slip to the bathroom, lean over one of the porcelain bowls, and stick her right index and middle fingers down her throat to bring up all of the calories she had consumed. But she was already planning on doing that tonight at Barefoot after the game. "No, I haven't been feeling well," Gabriella lied. "I would probably just end up throwing the eggs up or something," Gabriella finished, this time not even lying.

Riley sighed and narrowed her grass colored eyes at her friend, "You'll be fine, you just did all that running and didn't get sick. We can talk more about Troy," Riley giggled at her last offer.

Gabriella shook her head and slammed her locker door shut. "Thanks, but I really don't feel well. I might try to nap before school or something."

"Suit yourself," Riley said as she headed toward the shower.

The blacked haired girl picked up her purple lululemon gym bag and headed towards the exit. The worst part about being on a diet was the sacrifices she always made in her social life to avoid her so called 'temptations.' Her whole life revolved around food and planning each and every bite she took and didn't take, there was only so much will power one girl possessed to always say no when greasy, fried food was staring her in the face.


The squeak of rubber soles on the shiny wooden floor accompanied by the dribbling of an orange sphere was enough to drive anyone insane. Not Troy Bolton though, the squeaking of the basketball shoes as the boy ran across the gym bouncing an orange ball up and down was his theme song. The gym reeked of sweat, but Troy felt the smell was the sweet smell of success, proof that the East High Wildcats were better than any team coming to play them. Basketball practices were a high for Troy, it wasn't the synthetic high that he got from smoking or popping Adderall, but a real high. The kind of high that made him feel like he really meant something in the world.

Games were a different story though. Add the screaming fans into the song of Troy's life and suddenly it felt as if the disc had been scratched. With thousands of eyes on Troy, the golden boy, the pressure was unbearable. Men who had played alongside of his father saw a reincarnation of their old captain on the court and women who had cheered for the Wildcats many moons ago saw the boy their hearts had swooned over. After the game they would come up to him and say how well he played, 'Just like your father,' voice after voice would echo in his ear. That wasn't all that bothered him. What bothered him the most was the way his classmates treated him, or rather how he feared they would treat him if he made a mistake. East High's current student body saw Troy like a God. They saw a beautiful, tan, Greek-God like figure as he scored basket after basket.

Troy knew that he had a good personality and all of that crap. He was funny and outgoing towards everyone but the girl of his dreams, he was nice, and even though people didn't expect a jock to have straight-A's, or take AP classes, Troy did. It was part of his perfect mask. His father had taught him it was important to be perfect on the court and his mother, with her 1950's perfect housewife role had taught him it was important to be perfect off the court. Combine the perfection on the court with his winning personality and Troy was the most popular boy in school. Troy pretended that being popular was just a thing, that it didn't really matter to him, but that was just part of his mask. To the blue eyed boy his reputation was more than important, it defined him. Without basketball stardom to make him stand out, Troy would just be another popular kid. Sure, he would be liked, but without basketball to set him apart, he would fall into second place, behind someone else. And coming in second best, wasn't okay with Troy, because being perfect meant being the best.

A whistle tweeted as Jason Cross shot a final basket and the orange globe twirled around the rim of the hoop, before finally swooshing into the net below. The sweaty, tired boys jogged over to their coach and water bottles and took a knee. Half of the boys were in red and the other half in white, their scrimmage uniforms. "Alright boys," their coach said. He was a tall man, with graying hair and a slightly protruding gut. Coach Lyons had been a great player in his day, but age and multiple knee and shoulder surgeries had caught up to him. He was still a great coach though, he loved the Wildcats as much as he did his own family and he vowed that the year the team didn't make it to states was the year he would step down. "Tonight's the first game of the season. I usually try to scare you a little bit the morning of the first game, but this year I don't think I have to. Most years you're all so riled up I need to make you nervous to get you to focus, but then again we've never had a captain like Bolton before. Thanks to his lead you're all cockier than ever, but you also play better than ever."

"Yeah Troy," a dark skinned boy with tight ringlets cheered, slapping his blue eyed best friend on the back.

Coach Lyons smiled down at his players, "I know Troy's made you guys work even harder than last year, organizing runs and scrimmages on weekends. That's what a true leader is. You boys are more ready than any team I've ever had. And I know none of you, especially you Mr. Bolton, are gonna let me down at tonight's game."

The players clapped for Troy and their eyes all flew to him. He gulped nervously and took a swig of blue Gatorade that matched his eyes from the bottle in front of him. He looked at the fifteen pairs of eyes on him anxiously and smiled confidently. "And we're gonna kick some Menendez ass tonight!" Troy yelled, not feeling half as confident as he sounded. "We've got the best team we've had in years, this year we're gonna have an undefeated season!"

The rest of the team cheered and clapped at their leaders proclamation and Troy nodded his head at his friends and teammates. He wasn't going to let his boys down, he couldn't. He was going to make sure the East High Wildcats had a season to remember, whatever it took.

"What team?" the ringlet haired boy yelled, his voice echoing off of the bleachers.

"Wildcats!" his teammates yelled back enthusiastically. The boys man-hugged each other and laughed as they headed towards the locker room to shower before the school day started.

"Bolton!" the gray haired coach yelled out to his captain. "Meet me in my office before you hit the showers!"

Troy sighed and stepped into the small wooden doorway next to the heavy metal door that led to the boy's locker room. Troy really wanted to study for his Calculus test before the bell for first period rang and Coach Lyons was the type of man whose speeches could gone on for hours if no one stopped him. The gray haired man stepped into the office and shut the wooden door behind him, "Well take a seat, son," the older man gestured to the uncomfortable looking plastic chair in front of his desk as he sat in the leather reclining one behind it.

Troy sat down and gazed around the small office. It was an ode to East High, everything in the cramped room was red and white while newspaper clippings about the basketball team and team photos from over the years hung on the walls. Coach Lyons had been coaching at East High for thirty years. Troy was the second piercing blue eyed Bolton Coach Lyons had coached.

"How are you feeling about the big game tonight?" Coach Lyons asked the younger man. "You think you're gonna lead the Wildcats to victory?"

"Course coach," Troy said confidently to the gray haired man. "We've got a kick ass team, I'm a kick ass player, we're good." Troy smiled defiantly at his coach.

Coach Lyons shook his head and sighed, "You know who said those same exact words to me before they beat Menendez?"

Troy shut his brilliant eyes and ran his right hand anxiously over his chestnut colored locks. He had heard the story told a million times before by a different man. The man whose eyes matched the color of his own, the man who Troy inherited his looks and talent on the basketball court from. "My dad," he said shortly.

"That's right son. When I asked him the same exact question I just asked you he gave me the same exact answer you just gave me. And you know what, I didn't think it was gonna happen. We had never beaten Menendez, but that year we did. The first time we beat Menendez was all thanks to your old man," Coach Lyons told the boy. "I have something I want you to see."

Troy wasn't really interested in anything Coach Lyons had show him. All he wanted to do was get out of the small office that seemed to be shrinking by second, the pictures of the basketball greats before him felt like they were going to choke him to death. He needed air.

Coach Lyons slid a yellowed newspaper clipping across his desk to the boy and Troy peered down at it. With a quick glimpse at the black and white photo on the page one might mistake the boy riding on his teammates shoulders for Troy, Troy knew better though. The man in the picture had a slightly less chiseled jaw and a slightly crooked nose. The man in the clippings lips weren't as soft or as perfectly shaped as his look-alikes were, and his eyes were different. His eyes were harsher. His eyes stared at the camera with a defiant gaze that told the world how much better than everyone he thought he was. The boy sitting in the office had never looked at anyone like that before. Other than those few differences, the people in the picture may have the same person and to someone who didn't know better they might think they were.

"This is your dad after the first Menendez win. I had never been so proud of a team in my life. Those boys beat Menendez seventy-two to fifty-three with your dad leading them to it. Your dad was the best player I've ever coached," Coach Lyons said.

Troy nodded but didn't say anything to his gray haired coach. He knew his dad was a good player, he heard it from everyone, constantly being compared to his dad's greatness. Some people said Thomas was a better player, some people said Troy was, everyone always agreed that both men were two of the greatest players East High had ever seen.

"Have you seen this?" Coach Lyons asked shoving today's sports section from the Spring Lake Meadows Times towards the boy.

"No," Troy choked out. On the first page of the section there was an entire article dedicated to his families legacy in basketball, his father's biggest win twenty-five years ago, and of course speculation on whether or not Troy would carry his team to victory.

"Now I don't want you to read it, some of the speculation is just going to make you more nervous," the older man said snatching the thin black and white paper back from the boy. "I just wanted to show it to you so you could see what a big deal tonight is. You're just as good of a player as your dad Troy if not better. And I'm gonna tell you a secret none of the articles you'll read about that game will tell you. Your dad was a good player, but he was a terrible leader. If he had been able to inspire his team the way you do their win would've been double what it was."

"Thanks Coach," the boy mumbled.

Coach Lyons nodded his gray head at the boy, "Which is why I'm expecting an even bigger win out of you boys tonight!" the coach finished smiling brightly down at the anxious sixteen year old.

"Course Coach," Troy mumbled, his heart pounding.

"Alright, son, go shower up. And don't disappoint me tonight, you've got a lot of people counting on you," Coach Lyons said, gesturing towards the door.

Troy stood up and walked out the door without another word. He could barely hear his own thoughts, 'Don't disappoint me tonight,' was playing over and over again in his mind. Troy hated letting people down, especially people that thought so highly of him. He ignored his teammates chatter as he headed towards the showers. As he washed his caramel locks and magazine cover worthy abs all he could think about was his coach's warnings.

After he got dressed for the day in his red and white warm up suit, a game day requirement for first string Varsity players, Troy glanced at the silver and black Nixon watch on his left hand. He still had half an hour until the bell rang for first period. He could use that half an hour to study for the Calculus test he had second period, but he knew he was fairly ready. He also knew that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to focus on limits and functions after his coach's pep talk. So, he chose his other option. "I'll see you guys in class, I gotta head out to do something before school starts," he said to his friends.

They nodded at their friend and high fived him as their captain left the locker room through the exit to the student parking lot. Troy briskly cut through the parking lot, only slowing down when he noticed Gabriella's giant black Escalade, that she always seemed so small driving, pull into the asphalt parking lot. When he reached his dark blue Audi he shoved the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He needed to relax or he wasn't going to be able to think about anything but basketball and the game. The black rubber tires sped out of the parking lot and towards the baseball fields Jake Barrett had introduced him to two years earlier. When Troy reached the familiar dirt parking lot he put the gearshift on the giant P and rummaged through his glove box until he found the objects he was searching for.

The first time he had inhaled the fumes from the sweet leaf and later that day swallowed a little blue and white tablet, he had done so out of a need to impress the senior offering it to him and the willingness to do anything to make sure he played a good game. After the game and the compliments started pouring in from everyone, comparing him to his father if they were over 30 and his classmates worshipping, he realized that he never wanted to have an off game. An off game would mean that he wasn't a good player, he wasn't as good as his dad. An off game would mean that he had let his team down, his school down, and his friends down. Troy would do whatever it took to feel as perfect and as holy as he did after that first game.

The blue eyed boy was far from perfect, but as long as no one found out, he would still be their golden boy and hero.


Author's Note 2: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I was torn between this version of the chapter and another version and after some great/really helpful input I chose this one. The other version had T/G interaction, but I decided it was more important to give you all insight into the characters minds and develop them a little more before I started to build on their relationship. I hope everyone is happy with my choice for this chapter because I really feel like it was the one that worked best for the story. Also, I know I've been updating every day so far, but I was home sick all weekend and stayed home sick from school today so I've had plenty of time to post/write/edit. From the next chapter on the update schedule will probably be more like every other day.