Author's Note: First off all I am so sorry for not posting yesterday like I promised. I hate breaking my word and I'm so sorry I did, I was swamped with makeup work from being out sick and practice ran late and it was just a really bad night. The chapter was typed, but I like to reread things twice before I post and I just didn't have time last night. Second of all, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, they are all so wonderful! Reviews inspire and help me so much and I just love reading them! And third of all, I'm super nervous about this chapter, I know some of you aren't going to like certain things, but I promise it all serves a purpose and I know where it's going! Enjoy!


I remember feeling low,

I remember losing hope,

I remember all the feelings.

--Innocent by Our Lady Peace


It was almost over. It was obvious from the screaming, on edge crowd. No one was still sitting in their seats. Who could? With this much time left in the game the pressure was on. The body paint students had layered on their stomachs and faces before the game was beginning to chip off revealing flecks of their original skin tones. The fans were as sweaty and as tired as the men on the court, but they were still screaming.

Troy Bolton looked up at the clock above scoreboard, trying to ignore the fans cries. There were only two minutes left in the game. The Wildcats were up sixty-eight to fifty-four. For anyone else sporting red and white apparel or body paint, the score was fine. Hell, the score was perfect. The Wildcats were on their way to winning their first game of the season, this was all any of the fans could ever ask for. Troy, however, was pissed. There was no way in hell Troy was walking out of this gym with less than seventy-four points on the scoreboard. If the Wildcats won with less than that, Troy would have failed everyone. His dad, the fans, his school, Coach Lyons, himself, and most importantly his team. If the Wildcats didn't make it to seventy-four points, he was letting down the boys he considered his brothers. If they didn't make it to seventy-four points, the boys weren't going down in history.

He flicked his perfectly sculpted head back, making tiny droplets of sweat fly out of his chestnut locks and squinted his blue eyes at his enemies draped in black and gold. His normally sparkling blue eyes were venomous, hungry, Troy had come to win and he wasn't leaving this gym a loser.

The mess of boys sprinted towards the visitor's end of the court, the soles of the basketball shoes squeaking like mice hungry for cheese. All of the boys were hungry, were hungry for victory. Every drenched boy standing on the shiny wooden floor had come for blood. Troy scanned the court with his cerulean eyes, trying to decide if he was in the perfect position. Jason Cross was dribbling the orange globe with his right hand, a black and gold opponent hovering over his shoulder.

"Jason!" Troy shouted from across the court. The bronze skinned boy was open. If his friend could get him the ball Troy knew he would be able to make the three point worthy shot. If he made the shot they would only have three points until complete and utter victory. Their victory wouldn't just over the other team, it would be a victory over any doubts anyone had ever on who was the better Bolton. It would be a victory over every Wildcat to come before. It would be a victory over every basketball team that had ever walked through the doors of East High. This wasn't just a victory. This was the victory. But first, the Wildcats need six more points on the board.

Time seemed to freeze as the fair skinned brunette boy launched the ball at his captain from the other side of the court. The black and gold adorned team sprinted towards player number fourteen as the boy's muscular legs bent and his strong calves shot him up in the air. He knew they were coming towards him, but he couldn't see them. It was as if only Troy and the basket were on the court. His tanned and toned biceps flexed as he released the ball and it went soaring through the air. He couldn't hear anything other than his own heartbeat as the pumpkin colored sphere circled the metal rim once, then twice, and slowly fell into the white net. The red and white plastered side of the gym erupted in screams as the buzzer sounded.

Troy froze at the screeching bell. His blue eyes glanced up at the clock and saw the numbers of death staring him in the face. The clock read zero. Zero minutes and zero seconds left in the game. The scoreboard reflected a Wildcat win, and to everyone but Troy it felt like one. The newspapers would record the score of seventy-one to fifty-four in their articles, they would mention his impressive final basket, but none of this mattered to the beautiful boy staring at the scoreboard. His team began to swarm their captain, his last shot was one for the record books, but all Troy could think about was the evil digits staring him in the face. The Wildcats had only scored seventy-one points.

The angelic body glided slowly off the court, ignoring his teammates cheers and fans congratulations. The happy team stared at their captain as he walked away from the celebration, scrunching the brows in confusion. Troy had just shot the most impressive basket anyone had ever made in that gym, but Troy was acting as if the team had lost. Troy hadn't even registered how amazing his last basket was, all he could think about was the three digits lacking from the final score.

Troy slammed open the locker room door and sunk to the floor. He hadn't cried since he was four and when he fell of his bike and broke his wrist. 'Boys don't cry Troy,' Thomas had told his sobbing son over and over on the way to hospital. Normally, the Adderall pumping through his veins would have given him confidence, made his mood a little bit brighter after a rough game. Not tonight though. Tonight the beautiful boy fell to the locker room floor and let a few tears escape from his haunted blue eyes.


"You all played amazing!" Gabriella squealed to her guy friends as her and Taylor squeezed into the crowded table in the center of Barefoot Grille. The dark restaurant was owned by an East High alumnus and was practically a shrine to the school. On all of the walls were framed photos of the various sports teams at the school and framed newspaper articles highlighting wins and profiling star athletes. Wildcat pennants and posters displaying this year's star players were on display for all of the patrons to see. It was somewhat of a dive though, the red paint was beginning to chip off the walls in some places and the service sucked. But, despite its flaws, Barefoot Grille hosted the perfect laidback atmosphere the teenagers craved and the prices were right considering the quality of most of the meals.

Ninety percent of East High's student body had invaded the restaurant and most of the teens were standing in clusters, unable to find an open chair anywhere. The only open seat was at the round center, table, prime seating. No one had actually ever reserved the table, but it was an unspoken rule that the best basketball players that season and their friends got that table. Sitting there this year was Jason Cross and his shy girlfriend Kelsi Nielsen, curly haired Chad Danforth and his girlfriend Taylor McKessie, Zeke Baylor and his ice princess girlfriend Sharpay Evans, Sharpay's twin brother Ryan Evans, and of course Gabriella Montez and their superstar, Troy Bolton. There was always one open seat for the rare occasion one of the single members of the group brought a date or fling along for the night.

"Thanks Gab! And now it's time to celebrate," Chad said mischievously as he pulled a Dasani bottle out of one of the deep pockets in his shorts.

"We're celebrating with water?" Jason asked as his curly haired friend poured the clear liquid into his Coke.

The rest of the table sighed and rolled their eyes at their slow friend. "It's vodka," Kelsi whispered to her boyfriend, her soft brown eyes showing nothing but affection.

"Oh hell yeah! Pass it over here man," Jason said when he realized the bottle was merely a disguise.

Their waitress came up to the crowed circular table and deposited various dishes around the table. The rest of the gang had ordered appetizers before Taylor and Gabriella arrived, it was their tradition, always spilt a bunch of different appetizers. Jason continued pouring the strong substance into his Dr. Pepper filled cup. Normally his friends would have told him to stop, but they all sort of knew the weary blonde girl delivering their food. It was Melissa Something or Other, she was a student at the local university. She had been a senior when the teenagers she was now serving were freshman, she was also best friends with Amanda Roberts, Jake Barrett's high school sweetheart. Melissa had sat at the same table only two years ago, spiking her drink in the same indiscreet manner her customers were doing now.

"Congrats guys, I heard y'all played great," she said with a slight southern twang.

She walked away from the table squeezing Troy's shoulder gently as she passed him. The first time Troy had spoken to her had been two years ago after Troy's first ever Varsity basketball game against Menendez, the same team the boys had defeated earlier that evening. He had done more than talk to her at the after party, his first real party. Normally Troy would have nodded her way or at least acknowledge he knew the girl existed, but not tonight. He had barely spoken to anyone since they arrived at the restaurant and he planned on keeping it that way. The only reason he had even bothered to show up was because he had too. Not going to Barefoot after a game was social suicide, anyone who mattered at East High was there.

Gabriella looked nervously at the food that had just been placed on the table, suddenly ravenous. Her chocolate colored eyes scanned the assortment of dishes trying to decide on what she wanted first. She always had to remember the first thing she swallowed. If she remembered what she ate first, she would be able to tell when all of the toxic remnants had been flushed out of her body by her own two fingers. Gabriella's eyes landed on the blue corn chips and queso sauce that had been placed on the circular table between Taylor and Chad. The blue was bright, distinguisable, it would be easy to tell when the chips were out of her system, they were perfect.

"Tay, could you put a couple chips on my plate?" Gabriella asked her dark skinned friend, holding out her plate.

The girl nodded and dumped a handful of chips onto the tan dish. Gabriella smiled at her friend in thanks and surveyed the rest of the food, not really caring what she was going to be consuming. It was during these binges that overtook her, that Gabriella felt as if she had lost complete control over herself and her body. Her thin finger loaded fries and chicken wings onto the plate, trying to convince herself her friends weren't all staring at her. As soon as she took the first bite, her friends disappeared. Their chattered was drowned out, the only thing that mattered was putting food into her perfectly shaped lips.

It was during these binges that Gabriella hated herself. She hated the way she felt so anti-social as she stuffed her face while her friends took smaller bites and spoke between tastes. She couldn't help it though, when she took the first bite of the meal she had planned to binge on a barbaric instinct overtook her. There was nothing she could do except thrust more and more food into her mouth as if she had never eaten before. She could barely even taste the food she was swallowing, there was no difference between a French Fry and a mini-burger. Her jet black hair shielded her face as she chewed, the less people that noticed her eating the better. If they couldn't see her they wouldn't be able to judge her food choices when in her mind it was clear what she needed wasn't food, but to be on a diet.

"Woah hungry much Gabs?" Ryan asked as his pale fingers reached for the same chicken finger as Gabriella's.

The table teetered with what they thought was harmless laughter, but Gabriella was convinced they were laughing at her fat. She knew that they were wondering why their obese friend was shoving empty calorie after empty calorie inside her mouth. She couldn't stop though, not yet. It was like Newton's First Law of Motion: an object in motion will remain in motion until something gets in its way. She couldn't stop until her stomach rebelled.

"I haven't eaten today," she lied through a mouthful of fried, greasy food. The thin, tanned fingers reached out to grab a jalapeno popper from the dish beside her when suddenly her stomach began to churn. She stuck the popper in her mouth anyway and forced her teeth to chew it, her stomach was begging her not to swallow, but she had too. As soon as the breaded pepper began to slide down her throat she knew she was finished. Her stomach felt like it was ready to burst, her whole body felt like it had swelled to three times its normal size. "I have to pee," she announced to the table, jumping up and rushing towards the back right corner of Barefoot Grille where the restrooms were located.

She hurried through the spirited restaurant ignoring Riley's calls as she brushed passed her table and pushed open the red wood door labeled Ladies Room. There were only two other girls in the bathroom, one was crying and the other was comforting her friend, telling her how stupid boys were. Gabriella vaguely recognized the girls as freshmen and remembered they were JV cheerleaders. Another time Gabriella might have giggled at the cliché, but not now. Right now her chocolate eyes looked straight ahead, determined. She was on a mission.

Normally Gabriella would have cared that other people were in the restroom when she was about to throw up, but she knew freshmen girls. They were probably too wrapped up in their own problems to even notice the older girl. Just in case they did notice what the supposed to be perfect junior was doing, Gabriella chose the stall farthest away from the younger girls and rushed towards it. Slamming and locking the door with fumbling fingers Gabriella turned around and hunched over the dirty porcelain bowl. She hated this part. With the rhythm and grace of a seasoned expert Gabriella took her right index finger and middle finger and shoved the pink polished tips into her mouth, slowly guiding them towards the back of her throat. She led her hand back as far as it would go and all of the sudden bile began to rush back up her esophagus. She could see the remains of the food she had just ingested lying in the water before her. There was no sign of blue corn chips so she closed her watery eyes, the normally white outline bloodshot and repeated the action. It was always harder the second or third time, there was less food in her stomach to bring up, her fingers always had to linger at the back of her throat a second longer, moving them gently around to help stir her stomach up.

After the third time she finally saw particles of blue, she was finished at last. She reached up to the toilet and flushed, cursing herself for losing control. Her shoulders began to shake as she let tiny water droplets escape from her deep coffee colored eyes. She hated doing this to herself. Deep down, she knew that it was wrong to not eat for a week , then shove everything and anything she could find into her mouth, and then throw the contents of her stomach back up. She knew it wasn't normal, but she couldn't stop. Sometimes part of her wanted to admit she needed help, but she knew if she admitted she had a problem everything would come crashing down around her. She would be forced to go to some stupid doctor who would make her to eat and everyone would monitor her to make sure she kept the food down. There was no way she would be able to lose the fat that plagued her thighs and stomach if she admitted she needed help. And besides, she wanted to be perfect, or at least pretend she was. Perfect people didn't have issues like hers. If she admitted she had a problem she would break the mask of perfection she had spent years creating.

When Gabriella left the restroom a familiar dark haired girl was leaning against the sink, her green eyes locked on Gabriella's darker ones.

"Hey, Riley," Gabriella said as calmly as possible. What if Riley had heard? What if she knew?

Riley looked at her thin friend concerned, "Are you okay? I heard you get sick." Riley was blunt and to the point. Sometimes her straightforwardness reminded Gabriella a little of Sharpay.

Gabriella turned on the silver faucet and ran her hands under the scorching hot water, trying to kill the smell of sick. She nodded, not looking up at her friend. "Yeah, I told you I wasn't feeling well this morning. I decided to try a bite to eat and it backfired," she explained quickly, trying to make her story believable.

Riley looked at her friend and shrugged. "If you say so," the green eyed girl said. "Do you want a ride home or something?"

"No thanks," Gabriella said, a little too brightly. "Thanks though." Gabriella turned on the balls of her white ballet flats and marched out of the bathroom confidently. In the back of her mind she was replaying the scene from the bathroom. Riley hadn't seemed to completely believe her, the way her green eyes seemed to narrow a little bit, almost accusingly when Gabriella stepped out of the stall. She shook her dark, curly head. No, she convinced herself as she approached her table. She was just being paranoid.


"I'm think I'm going to head down to Mickler's Lake, I'm not really in the mood to party," Troy said as the teenagers exited Barefoot Grille a few minutes later. When Gabriella had returned to the table they had already paid their bill, eager to move onto their next and final destination. Gabriella had tried to hand Sharpay a ten, but the blonde girl waved her bony, manicured fingers insisting the meal was on her.

His friends all stared at him with baffled expressions on their faces, Troy Bolton was always in the mood for a party. Especially after a win on the basketball court. And a post game party without their captain was like a red carpet premiere without the stars, it just wasn't heard of.

"What do you mean you're not in the mood to party?" Sharpay asked, narrowing her eyes and resting her hands on her narrow hips. She had painted her stomach red with her boyfriend Zeke's number written in white across it for the game. Almost everyone else in the restaurant had put on shirts to go out to eat, but not Sharpay, she stood in front of the group in just a bedazzled red and white sports bra , clearly never used to work out in, and shorts, confidently staring up at them all. Most days the owners of Barefoot would have politely asked the girl to put on a shirt while she was eating, but on game days they let the unclothed students slide and show their proud, painted bodies off.

Troy shrugged, "I just don't feel like partying okay?" He shot Sharpay a look of death, telling her to back off without his eyes.

The blonde girl pouted, but didn't say anything else. She had been friends with Troy for long enough to know when to just let something go.

"Hey, do you think you could give me a lift home on your way to the lake?" Gabriella asked Troy suddenly, everyone's eyes flying to the thin girl.

Sharpay's mouth dropped open and she stared her friend up and down. "You better just be going home to get your car and change or something," the blonde girl threatened her dark haired friend. When Gabriella didn't respond Sharpay narrowed her cappuccino colored eyes, "You're not coming either? This is unbelievable. I can't believe you guys are just blowing off my party."

Her twin cleared his throat and Sharpay huffed, clearly not in the mood to deal with her brothers jealousy, "I mean our party. What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

Gabriella rolled her toffee eyes at her dramatic friend, "Sorry, I just don't feel up too it," she said timidly.

"I just don't understand what the problem is. We just killed Menendez and you guys are acting like someone died or something," Sharpay whined, stomping her red stiletto clad foot on the pavement. "We might as well just cancel it," she said, trying to guilt her friends into coming.

Troy glared at Sharpay again, narrowing his cyan eyes harshly. "Get over yourself, Shar," he snapped. "Everyone else in school is expecting you to have a party, it's not that big of a deal if two people don't show."

Sharpay threw her bare, tan arms up in the air. "You forgot that the two most popular kids in school are the ones that are skipping it. Way to just ruin my first major party of the year. Thanks a lot you guys, some friends you both are," Sharpay whispered callously at the pair.

The boy ran a hand through his caramel colored locks and pulled harshly at the ends. He always tried to be the best friend he could, but tonight he just couldn't take. Sharpay's final words had made the ticking time bomb inside of him explode. "You know what Sharpay, fuck you. Stop trying to make us feel bad because we don't want to go to one fucking party. You're so fucking selfish all of the time, you make everything about you. Shouldn't you be a little more concerned about why your friends aren't in the mood to party for the first time ever? I'm sorry for once in my life I'm doing what I want to do and not trying to make you all happy. And I hate to break it too you, but the world isn't some pink bubble that revolves around you. Just go fuck yourself," the boy shouted storming away from the group and unlocking his navy colored Audi.

Everyone's jaws dropped to the floor at Troy's outburst. Always innocent and soft spoken Kelsi's pale brown eyes grew wide with fear and for the first time in her life Sharpay didn't have a retort. Instead they all stared at their friend's back as he retreated towards his sparkling car. Troy never got mad, ever. Troy was always the last one to snap, he was always the nice one, the calm one. Troy was the one nothing ever seemed faze, with his cocky omnipresent smile and the way his piercing eyes stared confidently out at the world.

"Hey not cool Bolton," Zeke defended his girlfriend, the first to say anything after Troy's explosion.

Troy raised his arms as if to say 'Whatever,' and without turning around yelled back to one member of the group, "Gabriella are you coming or not?"

The dark haired beauty froze on the spot, her mouth half open trying to form a sentence, unsure of what words were appropriate. She looked at her friends, taking in Chad's ringlets, Kelsi nervous expression, the emotion in Sharpay's eyes, a cross between hurt and anger, and then she glanced at the perfect sculpture climbing into the blue car. "I think I'm gonna with Troy," she whispered nervously to her friends.

The petite girl darted across the parking lot quickly, her midnight curls bouncing behind her as she ignored her friends whispers about 'What the fuck just happened?' She opened the passenger door and slid into the silver leather seat easily. The speakers were blasting an angry rock song and the second her door slammed shut the piercing blue eyed boy piloting the car floored the gas, peeling out of the parking lot.

"You want me to take you home or do you wanna come for a ride with me?" Troy yelled over the speakers, the fury from earlier ringing out crystal clear in his voice.

Gabriella thought for a moment, it was now or never. She finally had her chance with Troy, maybe they could even bond over what a bitch Sharpay was. "I'll go with you," she yelled back.

Troy tore his rage ridden eyes away from the road and glanced at the beautiful girl smiling nervously at him in the passenger seat. His eyes softened slightly when he saw her tuck a loose curl behind her ear shyly.

"If that's okay I mean," she shouted again over the music.

Troy nodded and hit the volume button on the steering wheel, lowering the volume of the heated guitar solo now pouring out the speakers. "Definitely," he said, his expression turning into one of surprise. He turned his golden face to look at the striking girl in the seat beside him. At least one thing might go his way tonight.