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Ok, so this chapter is titled, Cried my heart out and I hope it fits the context.
If everything's clear: Ready…..Set…..READ!
CRIED MY HEART OUT
For the following seconds, maybe even minutes, everything seemed to be frozen. No words were exchanged. Nothing. What? That's all he had to say? A one syllable word after everything that's happened the last two weeks? I didn't say anything. I mean, it was not like I had to explain myself to him. It was more the other way around. But all he did was to move his weight from one foot on the other; awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. For me was nothing awkward; it was more or less getting on my nerves. If he's not going to say something, I sure as won't. With the same stone engraved look that I greeted him with, I marched passed him and continued down the way to the exit, somewhere between 25 to 26 feet away. My heels hit the floor with every step, which resounded through the whole place.
"Sharpay." So, now he speaks?! I didn't stop. It was not worth to stop for him. Not surprising enough, I heard him come after me – You could almost say I felt him. But, let us not go into details, shall we?
"Shar, Wait up!" Shit, you need to be quicker, girl. Sadly, he already managed to grab my right upper arm, unexpectedly yanking me back. I had to act fast, so I yelled. And I wasn't ready.
"Do not even try and take the nickname in your mouth…….again!"
"I guess 'Pay' is out of the question then?" He gave a shot at smiling. Was that just a try at being funny? Putting on the best glare I could manage, I concentrated on my voice, crossing my arms- in a true queen manner. Enter: emotionless and certain.
"What do you want Bolton?"
It was something I hadn't used for some time, but it sure as hell made him stumble on his words.
"Don't tell me we're back at the last name calling."
I slowly raised one eyebrow at him. At least he felt uneasy and I was determined to make him feel that like never before.
"Not the point, Basket-boy." I barked. Harsh-good, but not good enough. He was quite taken aback by it and seemed……stuck.
"Okay….." He hesitated. "- I can see you're really mad and-"
"Mad? You think I'm mad?" I swiftly cut him off and took a. Deep. Breath. "I am fucking pissed!"
It was visible as his cover basically peeled off. He was desperately trying to reach me- verbally that is-; obviously unsuccessfully. What did he think this was? Who did he think I was?
"Sharpay, please-"
"Don't you try and 'Sharpay, please' me." I don't like pleading. I like honesty – Something he failed at already.
"Just let me explain, will you?"
"What is there to explain?" Shrieking, I threw my arms up. "I told you how felt, you took advantage of it and then ran back to miss 'goody-goody-two-shoes' for some rebound!"
I was angry. I was hurt. And terribly, terribly left with the feeling of being vulnerable. And unloved. Everything was a reason to blame him and let it out on him.
Somehow though, he wouldn't get it. He was pretty intimidated with my behavior – He didn't like it and I kind of liked that.
"Why again, are you acting like the cold 'ice queen'?" I watched as an offended frown crept upon his features. "That's not you."
That bothered him so much? He didn't think I was like the 'ice queen'? Heck, I invented her. It was his lack of judgment that he thought so. And maybe I just had something to confront him with.
"There's where you're wrong, Bolton." I paused. That's it. "That's exactly who I am…….And should have stayed."
I finished the last sentence in almost a whisper, before I turned and headed for the doors again.
"No." I heard his voice behind me; strong, very strong. "That's who you never were. You were never like her……"
I turned around to him, slowly, as if with barely little energy. He looked so….normally plain. You know – like always. Just like the guy next door. Just like the same old and lovable Troy. But it felt as if he wasn't. I couldn't just block out what happened; what he did to me.
"That is only the way you acted, so you wouldn't get close to anyone, so anyone wouldn't get close to you;…. so you wouldn't get hurt."
"Your point being?! - I got hurt!!"
And he stood there; stood there, with a few broken sparks, which were missing in the reflection of his eyes. Yeah, stare you coward. Hot tears stung in my eyes, pleading me to let them go. They were like thousands of needles, poking at my skin; almost making my eyesight unbearable. I forbid myself to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
Suddenly everything ceased to a scream, coming somewhere down the hall. It was sufficient enough to make us take notice in it. The scream was somewhat damp, followed by a similar 'miss Evans'. My eyes subconsciously squinted together at the sound of her voice. Dammit, Mrs. Voorhees is back. (AN./ She's the original killer in Friday the 13th, 1980)And she found me…Or didn't in this case.
That was my cue to leave. I had to think of something good. And fast. But as confident as I wanted the words to sound, my lips were undoubtedly trembling and making it hard for me to speak.
"You know what; I don't know why we're even discussing this." At the first impact of my words out on the open he glued his eyes to me again. "I am done with you……With all of you."
I turned completely, facing my back at him. With a step and a second later, I was outside East High, my chest pressed tight around my heart, when in my memory I saw his face at the moment he saw me walk away.
The walk home was the longest yet. Hours seemed to have passed, before I finally arrived. Like always there was no one there. Mother and father were……Well, basically anywhere; except for home….I'm surprised they still remember where they live……Or how their kids look like,… whatever. And the afternoon shift for all kinds of employees was to start no sooner then twelve o'clock sharp. I had the whole house to myself, but was really not in the mood for anything actually, so I went for my room, where I stayed the rest of the forenoon.
Pink walls. Fluffy furniture. A king-sized bed, with baldachin. How odd you don't find anything like that in Sharpay Evan's room, Isn't it? Sorry to disappoint you, but who would have thought the Ice Queen's bedroom is equipped with a computer, a round bed and a poster of Audrey Hepburn and not the usual…pink, you'd expect? I'm not Malibu Barbie! Relieved, I went for the bed, before throwing myself on it. Today was some shit-ass day. I sighed. Maybe a little peace and quiet would help straighten out the mess in my head……Maybe.
Home Shopping. Please, if I want to shop, I go shopping and don't sit in front of the TV for it-boring. CNN. No, thank you. Not today. I'm already worried about my life; don't need the weight of the whole humanity on my shoulders. The Real World's series. Give me a break. The shows more fake then Mindy Baker's boobs- boring. I cannot watch this anymore.
After spending hours in my bedroom and listening to sappy music, it got quite depressive, much? So, I switched to the smaller living room on ground floor, where I've been for the next hour and a half. I sighed and placed down the remote, o-so-slowly starting to drag myself towards the DVD shelf. That's right – a DVD shelf. It's fun. There had to be something I could watch from the 3000 choices that wouldn't make me think about my latest problems and in the same time keep me from falling asleep. Let's see……Now and then-no. Final destination-no. John Tucker must die…Hmmm,…… absolutely perfect for the occasion.
Just as I was about to put it in, I heard the doorbell. Stepping to one of the windows, I pulled aside the curtains and peaked at the quest. I mean, usually it was only me, Ryan and the servants. Today was really only me and the servants – Ryan was still at one of his baseball games. How much one summer can change a person, eh?...Wait a second, Is that who I think it is? Oh, no. Oh, yes. Troy Bolton. How he got the nerve to come to my house after I had totally blown him off?
Almighty shit. I dropped the DVD and raced to the gallery. No, no, no! Finally there, I saw Ramona - our …what was it……third Spanish speaking maid – who already made her way towards the front door rambling something in her native tongue. Thank Heavens mother and father couldn't even understand Spanish. Let's just say: She uses a lot of swear words. The doorbell rang again, reminding me, why I was even here.
"Coming!" She marched her way to the doors. "Espera arriba, perezoso, adinerado asno. Yo necesidad en nuevo trabajo."
"Hold it, Ramona!" The maid startled and stopped to look at me racing to her side.
"Miss Sharpay?" Bewildered, she stared at me.
"The boy" I quickly added and indicated to the doors. "Tell him I'm not at home." She took some time and examined the situation, sure as about to object to something.
"But-"
"Do it…….Please."
I watched as she wrinkled her nose, observing me from head to toe; probably making sure something wasn't wrong with the scenario.
"Bien," She sighed. "I'll do it." I silently thanked her with a smile, before I leaned on the other end of the huge doors, while she proceeded to open the other half. Of course I was eavesdropping. You thought I would just evaporate? Psh, yeah sure.
I heard some rustle, as I watched Ramona raise an eyebrow at Troy, looking him up and down. I had to smile, at least a little bit. She could also pass an older sister…or a mother.
"Miss Sharpay is not at home."
What was that? My eyes bulged out and accusingly started to search hers, but she obviously didn't get what she blurted. You could have at least let him ask or something. Seriously, why didn't she just say: 'Miss Sharpay does not want to speak to you and is currently hiding behind these doors, eavesdropping on the conversation'? Oh, boy.
For a moment I didn't hear anything. He knows something's fishy. And yeah, it stinks. But at last, he replied after all.
"Okay….Can you leave her a message?" His voice reached my ears and I would have lied if I had said it didn't have an effect on me anymore. "Let her know that I'm not leaving until she hears me out. I owe her and explanation and an apology ……..and she owes me to listen to what I have to say."
He quieted down and I realized he stopped, being somewhat done with. I helped myself by looking at Ramona, who seemed to process the information in her head, like a detector. A sneaky detector; recognizing any unsuitable-boy-behavior. Weird? Around a year ago I opened the door to a pizza-delivery boy. Nothing special; my age, maybe older, blond, brown-eyed, kind of cute….You know the deal. The thing was, Ramona being also at the door within seconds. When I turned and walked away from them I only heard Ramona's strong voice – spitting out something Spanish I couldn't understand. It later proved itself out that presumably the boy was having 'his idea' of me, and I quote Ramona: 'Looking at my booty, as if I was a pieza de carne.' I hoped she wouldn't bite Troy's head off. Wait! Why exactly was I hoping that? He deserved to have his head get bitten off. But Ramona slowly, almost not visibly, nodded her head, before closing the door. I practically fell against the door, letting out a sigh.
"Care to explain, chica?" She asked after a short silence.
"It's…...a long story, actually."
Ramona raised an eyebrow at me, when I looked up at her and a little smile on my lips.
"Well….My shift ends at 8 o'clock and then just happens to be my long-story-telling time."
That was worth a chuckle. Ramona has always been really great; nice, caring and funny…..Almost as a…Mother. Although, the thought didn't make me feel better, I nevertheless smiled clearly at her now.
"Deal."
I looked at the Broadway alarm-clock on my nightstand. 5.02. I need to get out of here. I stood from my bed and walked up to my balcony doors. On my tiptoes, my hand removed the light curtains and I dared myself to peek out. Bolton was nowhere in sight. I knew he wouldn't hold out standing the whole day outside my house. I checked again, just to be sure, before grabbing my keys from the desk-table and slamming the door behind.
I couldn't leave without letting Ramona know I was heading out to cool down a bit. But with that said, I only took my jacket and exited the front door. Then again, down the few porch stairs I wasn't so glad I decided on a little ride. Cool down? More like heat up. In front of my red convertible – Hold the thought! I had my pink one exchanged. It was beginning to freak me out. - Troy Bolton shifted his feet, hands in pockets, staring me intently. I sighed deeply. Although I could have just returned back inside, I somehow didn't want to. I would have to face him sooner or later. Sooner it is then. And I would face him my way.
With my head raised high, I left step after step slowly and gracefully behind me, until I stood a few feet in front of him.
"Beat it!" I demanded, glared and raised my hands to my hips. Ice Queen Time. He didn't want to play though. His eyes – his remarkable eyes – and facial expression said it all.
"No." He said firmly.
"Yes!" I barked. "Now!"
"I said no!" He was feisty. And demanding also – something very unlikely for Troy Bolton.
"Fine." Leaning my head to the side, I narrowed my eyes at him. "Then you won't mind if I run you over."
I moved from my spot and as coldly as I could, made a departure to the right. He didn't twitch a muscle, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. Opening the door to my BMW M6 Convertible- the fourth most expensive vehicle to own- Oh yeah, I like it- I sat in the driver's seat, buckled up and closed the door, before starting the engine. This will sure scare him off. Sadly, it didn't. He softly placed both his palms on the motor lid, steadied himself and looked me directly in the eyes through the glass between us. His eyes. So determined; so…guilty.
The engine humming low in my ears, I was looking back; seconds, minutes? Time was the last thing going on in my head then.
"Would you move!?" I yelled through the scrolled down window. I'm sure it sounded like a request; however it was more of a demand. Not sure whether he thought I wouldn't drive him over or whether he didn't care if he would be driven over, my stony sight, staring daggers into him softened.
I turned the engine off and took out the keys. He was one hard nut to crack, although I knew that already. My chances of getting him to move voluntarily were as small as getting Ryan to wear a dress……Well, at least now - he loved that when we were five. And anyway, I can't actually run him over. Hello!
I abruptly stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut. When I came to his side, he already removed his hands from the front and stood facing me. He was quite startled, because I was quick and somehow imminent.
"You got 2 minutes." That has to be the most monotone voice you've ever put on. "Start explaining."
He was obviously still a little astonished, for he didn't say a word.
"One minute, fifty-three seconds." I informed him, with a glance at my wrist-watch. He swiftly snapped out of it.
"Fist of all: I am sorry." He breathed, placing palm on palm. "I'm really sorry." Fine. Speaking of it, it took you long enough! "It should have never turned out the way it did." He whispered. My breath got stuck, as I kept watching him. It should have never turned out the way it did. It felt as though he tore out my heart and began stomping on it. I needed an intake of oxygen. And Fast.
"Then why did you do it?" I exhaled, a little shakily and bitterly. "Why did you kiss me?"
"What?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and then softened as it dawned on him. "I'm not talking about the kiss. I meant Gabriella!" Gabriella?
"Gabriella?" I was taken aback – evidently by my reaction. I crossed my arms. "So, you're not with Gabriella?"
"No, - I mean yes…- No, wait." After the first word, he stumbled from each one on. At least the right information got out, and that was the one about him still going out with Gabriella. I had enough.
"Scratch the 2 minutes." I got out, ere I moved passed him, to the other side of the convertible about to leave. I didn't have the nerves or the heart to hear anything more, but what he said next stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Her father died." Although I had my back turned to him, I clearly heard him curse himself under his breath, sighing and continuing with a tired and voice. "I shouldn't tell you this, but……..In New Mexico…….He was supposed to pick her up so they could spend a few days together…."He paused. If to calm down me or him is unknown. "Except….He never came……It was a traffic accident, fatal at impact." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was weird and cruel and unexpected. Gabriella's dad. I knew her parents were divorced since Gabriella had nine years and that she saw him quite often from then on. As often as possible. She once said that he was her friend; a friend irreplaceable to her. My legs were almost incapable of holding up my body anymore and my breath scratched at my throat. When he spoke again, his voice echoed through my ears so gently and pleadingly.
"Please, don't say you would've expected me to break up with her, after she awaited me on my doorstep, crying her heart out when I returned."
I didn't know. Would I've? I wasn't sure what to think. Gabriella and Troy. Me and Troy. The sudden death of Gabriella's father. My mind wandered into the corners of my brain without my allowance. It was happening again; just like in school. My heartbeat began to slow down; my eyes didn't want to cooperate. O god, not again. I had a feeling my knees were about to buckle, sending me to ground. I thought I was going to faint again, as I felt two hands lightly encircle my shoulders from behind. Troy managed to get near me, without me even aware of it, letting me remember his presence. His touch felt so warm and vitalizing. My lungs opened up and allowed me to swallow a large amount on air; my heart-rate starting to normalize.
"Sharpay." His breath on my left ear send cold shiver down my spine. He was the only one able to make me feel that way. "You need to know that nothing about my actions towards you was fake."
I was sure the danger of a pass-out deceased, but I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes. No. Don't do it. You're stronger than this, remember? You're the 'Ice Queen'. Don't launch a waterfall!
"What's going on?" The voice brought me back to then and there, as a single tear crept down my cheek. The figure also got Troy's attention, when his hands left my shoulders and with them the warmth. At a strongly pulsing heartbeat, I looked bewildered at the person and spoke; my voice high, hoarse and unsure.
"Ryan?"
He stood about 8 feet away, a bag flung over his shoulder – evident that he came home from Baseball practice. And he didn't look to merry as per usual.
"Hey, Shar" His eyes were concerned, but as he threw them towards him, his mouth only escaped a short -"Troy."
Troy stood still behind me and I didn't turn around; I didn't want to; I just couldn't look into his eyes. I wasn't even looking at Ryan anymore. I didn't want to explain the situation me and Troy were in and for all I know I didn't even care to explain. All I did was to stare in front of me. Just stare, at nothing.
"Ryan." I heard his voice low and dubious, when he searched for the right words. It was hard, considering Ryan wasn't much help and looking more then dissatisfied. He knew what happened between me and Troy before Christmas and that day he saw, not happy with the fact of Troy Bolton breaking his sister's heart. "I think I should go. I'll see you around?" He asked uncertain.
"Sure." Ryan breathed, but it didn't seem so sure. I felt as Troy raised his hand to cares my left shoulder one more time before he walked away, Ryan's narrowed eyes on him. Without a word, just a single touch. I refused to look and I didn't until he was gone. Ryan stepped before me and placed his hands on my shoulders, where mere minutes previously laid Troy's.
"Sharpay, are you okay?" His voice was full of compassion.
And I broke down. I finally broke down. I fell into my brother's arms, gripped tightly onto him, messing up his clothes and…..cried. I cried my heart out.
Ok, so, firstly: I didn't want Sharpay to be all on pink, so I changed her room to a more down to earth type, but still embraced with glamour. Fabulous. Secondly: I picked out the TV channels randomly…so….yeah. Thirdly: That Mindy Baker she's referring to is supposed to be a cheerleader in East High – I made her up. Fourthly: Ramona will keep up appearance. And Fifthly: Yes, Gabriella's father died – in my story that is.
Oh, and one more thing. I'm going to upload a trailer to this story on YouTube; I'm going to let you know when It's up. But I already have some videos up, although they're nothing special. The username is JustDifferentMe and I have three videos uploaded: Three intros to seires - HSM style (OneTreeHill, Dawson's creek, BeverlyHills 90210).
I hope the chapter wasn't disappointing and that you guys like it. Oh, and prreeetttyy pleeeaasseee, REVIEW!!!
So, with that said: see you next time! Enjoy!