East High Goes On
Troy opened his locker, throwing a few books inside and accidentally stabbing himself with his pens. Looking up, he saw the small picture of Gabriella and him kissing under his big tree in the backyard. It was framed in a green picture frame with fake grass and little rhinestone flowers and blue envelopes that Gabriella had made for him.
Closing his locker, he saw Sharpay's awaiting eyes staring at him eagerly.
"Sharpay?"
"Hey, Troy!" She said, pushing out her chest. She was wearing a size-too-small black wrap shirt that pushed up her cleavage along with a pair of ultra-tight, ultra-low rise skinny jeans and a pair of strappy white heels.
"So…" He mumbled, hoping the bell would ring.
"So…I hear you're unattached…" She winked.
"And you heard that from…who now?"
"A very reliable source."
"Well, obviously not, seeing as that is untrue."
"Seriously?!"
"Uh…yeah, Sharpay. Look, the bell's about to ring and I need to get going."
"You're going to physics, right?"
"Uh…"
"I'll save you a seat, sugar plum." Sharpay winked seductively, luring him in to get him to stare down at her cleavage.
"Sure…" Troy mumbled off-handedly before pivoting in the opposite direction.
Skipping one class wasn't so bad. Right?
-------
Back in New York, Gabriella was stuck at home with Tiffany-Claire and Roberto, who had taken time off from his work to spend time getting to know Gabriella. They sat by the kitchen table, chit-chatting about miscellaneous subjects while Gabriella drank some soda and Tiffany-Claire gulped down her diet health drink.
"So," Tiffany-Claire said in her best fake-happy and high-pitched voice, "How are you liking New York so far?"
Gabriella shrugged and simply smiled, "It's pretty good," She admitted, failing to mention the one missing element in New York - stars. She couldn't go outside to a backyard and stare out at the sky, mainly because Roberto's new family did not own (it was probably the one thing that they didn't have) a backyard. The entire building's ground was used as an over-polluted parking lot.
Tiffany-Claire rolled her eyes in disbelief, finding it hard to believe that her new husband's daughter could find Albuquerque better than New York. "Well, it has to be better than where you currently live... AKA the middle of nowhere," She snapped icily.
Gabriella, taken aback, blinked, furrowing her brows at the realization that Tiffany-Claire's tone changed from sugar-sweet to malicious. Quickly glancing at her father, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Roberto shifted uncomfortably in his cushioned seat, torn between two sides. In the end, he chose to back up his new wife instead as he quipped, "I never understood why Maria chose Albuquerque to live…"
"Well, I love it there," Gabriella retorted, feeling somewhat patriotic of the town she had grown to love.
"And for your information, mom didn't choose to live there, Roberto. It was her company that chose to relocate her there. And I'm actually quite glad they did because it is an amazing place to be in."
"Do you guys, like, sing farm music there?" Tiffany-Claire asked curiously, taking a long sip of her diet-drink, Gabriella stared at the dumb blonde, who was without a doubt oblivious to other parts of the world.
"No," Gabriella spoke sharply, "It's not a farm; it's a town."
Tiffany-Claire responded with an eye-roll before opening her mouth to reply, "Same diff. Do they have malls? We have one by the Palisades! We took Libby Belle there and she had a blast at the Carousel. And then we had a totally rad time at Abercrombie! They have two stores there! Abercrombie & Fitch is where I shop and then there's little abercrombie for cute little kids like Libby Belle! Oh, you haven't seen it yet. Well, you must. You certainly won't find anything like that in Albuturkey."
"Albuquerque," Gabriella corrected, fed up with Tiffany-Claire's attitude. "There are some malls. Maybe not quite as elaborate as the ones in New York, but still… It's not as bad as you make it seem. We still have all the stores that you shop at… and it's not like we milk cows for a living!"
Tiffany-Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You live in New Mexico. That's country and middle-of-nowhere enough," She said in a low-voice, yet both Gabriella and Roberto heard her remark. Before Gabriella could explode and tell off Tiffany-Claire, the door popped open. Libby Belle strutted in the room, carrying her LeSportSac schoolbag over her shoulder.
"I'M HOME!" Her obnoxious screech echoed in the spacious apartment.
Gabriella winced, feeling as if her eardrums were about to burst from listening to the dying cat, otherwise known as her new half-sister who was an annoying pain in the butt.
"SOMEONE GET MY BAG! IT'S EFFING KILLING ME!" Gabriella's eyes opened wide in alarm at the kind of language a six-year-old was capable of using. She wasn't sure if she was going crazy or if Libby Belle actually screamed that out because neither Tiffany-Claire nor Roberto commented on it.
Libby Belle stomped into the kitchen just as Roberto rushed over to her, grabbing her bag before kissing her on the forehead, "Hello, angel! How was your day at school?"
Libby Belle scrunched up her nose with distaste. "It was horrible! These kids in my class are so stupid! We've been doing the Pythagorean Theorem for AGES and they still don't get it!"
Gabriella raised an eyebrow curiously; since when did first graders learn the Pythagorean Theorem?
"Honey!" Tiffany-Claire came towards her daughter, adjusting and rolling her daughter's skirt, "How many times have I told you to roll this skirt? You go into that bathroom and you roll it up and shake it!"
Gabriella's mouth dropped wide open, appalled at the advice the woman was giving her six-year old daughter. Her eyes scanned Libby Belle's plaid uniform, noting that Libby Belle most likely attended a prestigious elementary school here in the Upper East Side.
Libby Belle rolled her eyes in annoyance before heading into the bathroom. Gabriella's eyes shot up at Tiffany-Claire in disbelief. Noticing the stare, Tiffany-Claire fake-smiled, explaining on her behalf, "Precious Libby Belle is ahead in her class. She's in fifth grade, you know? She's one of the youngest, but my precious is also the most popular girl in school!" Tiffany-Claire bragged, proud that her daughter was 'popular' rather than four grades above her level.
Gabriella nodded in understanding, impressed. Honestly, the idea that Libby Belle might have possibly inherited the genius trait that ran in the family had not come across her mind... To Gabriella, she was just a snobby little brat, but maybe there was more to her…
"MOTHER! WHERE IS MY GOD DAMN LIP GLOSS COLLECTION!?"
…or not.
Tiffany-Claire rolled her eyes before continuing to speak. "She's such a pain in the ass. Although, it's a good thing to be bitchy! Then, people feel threatened by you and you can manipulate everyone around you to get what you want. I told that to her teacher, who said she was disturbed by the qualities she observed in Libby Belle, but the old hag just looked at me like I was insane," Tiffany-Claire explained before walking inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. "Libby Belle, you better have that skirt up all the way when I get there!"
Shaking her head, Gabriella stared at Robert, demanding an explanation.
Roberto smiled sheepishly. "Isn't Libby Belle such a sweetheart? The teachers complain about her bullying the older kids… And I'm just thinking, a six-year-old beating up a ten-year-old? Please! It's ridiculous! Her teacher says she's tired of Libby Belle acting up in class, but if the school just challenged Libby Belle enough-"
"Isn't it bad for her to be around the older kids?" Gabriella mumbled. "She should be interacting with kids of her age!"
Roberto scoffed, "Libby Belle has never interacted with kids her age. She matured a lot quicker than her peers, and she was in a third grade classroom when she should have been in Pre-K. She sometimes hangs out with the girls from a nearby middle school. I see them walking around sometimes, hanging out after-school at Starbucks."
A six-year old roaming around the streets of Manhattan alone with the exception of pre-teens? Really, Roberto? Gabriella thought to herself, wishing she could vocalize her thoughts. Instead, she asked. "How does Libby Belle feel about that?"
Roberto eyed her oddly. "Gabriella, what are you trying to say? We didn't push Libby Belle into this! Tiffany, my sweet, was horrified when she learned Libby Belle was awfully smart for her age. It wasn't in her genes! But once I found out about it, I had her tested in one of the most advanced schools. I'm sure you know that the curriculum in New York is a lot better than most states. And this special school teaches advanced topics to younger children that are capable of grasping the concept. But even that isn't challenging Libby Belle enough. And she's been awfully fussy about that."
Gabriella nodded her head dumbly. She knew that feeling. Hearing about Libby Belle's struggles to fit in with her abnormally large IQ reminded Gabriella of another little girl who once faced the same challenge - herself.
"Now, would you do me a favor and take Libby Belle to her girl's scout meeting? She has an appointment with her tutor at five and it's very important, so don't you dare have her be late!" Roberto ordered her, "Now, be a dear and get ready. I'll call you when Libby Belle needs to be dropped off. It'll be a perfect chance for you two to bond!"
Gabriella sighed in agreement, knowing she didn't have the choice to decline. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that everyone in Albuquerque was most likely still in school. She hated the time difference. Troy had basketball until after five-thirty, meaning that Gabriella would have to wait until seven-thirty to call, but that would not work out since the family dinner was at 7:30 P.M. One of the things that Gabriella learned in her short time in New York was that no one couldmiss dinnertime, no matter the circumstance. Dinnertime was always a huge family event that would go on until around eight-thirty when dessert was served.
Gabriella noticed that Libby Belle had a hungry appetite, but Tiffany-Claire happened to be strict about calorie consumption. She actually sort of felt sorry for Libby Belle for getting stuck with a mother like that. That is, she felt sorry when (and this was rare) Libby Belle wasn't acting like a spoiled brat.
But as of now, she was going to have to take Libby Belle out for her after-school duties, and make her best attempt at not getting lost in Manhattan by herself.
Oh, the joy.
--
Libby Belle plopped down into the right window seat in the hired car and began primping with a compact makeup-mirror.
She was wearing a super short brown and pink plaid skirt along with a brown shirt that read, "Eat some cookies! Call the Thankful Thinmints Girl Scout Troop." She also wore a pink sash with a ton of small silver pins on it, pins that said, "Marshmallow Roasting Pin-Amanda", "Selling Pin-Regina", or "Fire starting Pin-Maxine."
"Hey, those names aren't yours…" Gabriella pointed out.
"I stole them from the dumbasses in my troop. It's not like they were going to use them. I just need three more damn pins and I win the $500 gift card to Urban Outfitters!"
"And… the makeup?" Gabriella looked down at her own outfit (picked out by Tiffany) of a tight navy mini dress, silvery leggings, and Pastries sneakers.
"I always wear makeup," Libby Belle informed her. "Got an em-effing problem with it, beyotch?"
Gabriella reeled back. "My mom never let me talk like that…"
"Well, this is New York, sweetie. You gotta learn your place. Go fuck with someone else's god damn life and stay out of mine."
Speechless, Gabriella tilted her head to stare out of the window, watching as the buildings seemed to get larger the further into the city that they went.
Soon, the driver pushed on the pedal, resulting in the car stopping abruptly. "Here you are, Miss Libby Belle."
Gabriella thanked him kindly, while Libby Belle spat, "Took you long enough! Next time, I am so going to slit the tires on your fricken car. Got it?" She pushed the man out of the way and walked into the tall building, flipping the driver the finger as she did.
Gabriella watched as LB almost tripped on a crack in the sidewalk on her designer Coach heels.
When the two entered inside the building, up the elevator, and into the girl scout's room, Gabriella stood dumbfounded.
There was a glittering chandelier in the center of the room, under which was a flat screen TV, three white couches, and a mahogany coffee table. The room's walls were completely made up of windows. Around the room, there was a maid wiping down the small dining table, a tall woman in glasses marking children's names off a checklist, and a chef baking cookies.
"Hola, Libbly Belle!" A small girl scrambled over to her.
"IT'S LIBBY BELLE, YOU IDIOT! AND I CAN'T UNDERSTAND CHINESE!"
"Is no Chinese…is Spanish…"
"Whatever it is, don't talk to me in that language. It pisses me off!" Libby Belle snarled, smacking the girl across the forehead. Letting out a sob, the girl quickly ran off, tears stinging her eyes.
Gabriella reached out to grabs Libby Belle's hands, "Libby Belle, how could you? You made that poor little girl cry! YOU CAN'T HIT OTHERS LIKE THAT!"
Libby Belle struggled to break free from her half-sister's grasp. "GET OFF ME! YOU'RE NOT MY EFFING MOTHER! I TOLD YOU TO STAY. OUT. OF. MY. LIFE!"
Frustrated beyond belief, Gabriella finally let go. With a grunt, Libby Belle ran off, turning on a nearby corner.
Strike effing three.
-----------------
Troy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to balance out his weight while dribbling down the court.
"Troy! I'm open!" Chad yelled, running towards him.
It had been a crappy practice. Chad fell twice, Jason sprained his ankle, and Zeke had a family emergency. All the best players were worn out, including Troy.
"Time out!" Troy wheezed as he ran toward the bleachers for a drink.
"TROY! C'mon man! We have an hour left of practice!"
"Coach…dad…can we pick this up tomorrow? Everyone is tired." Troy sighed for effect.
"No shit everyone's tired! That's because you guys are off today! Is there something going on?"
Yes. Sharpay is hitting on me and Gabriella is across the country with her estranged father. But besides that, everything is FINE!
"No, Coach…" Troy moaned and walked back to the foul shot line. "Nothing at all…"