Hi.

A Word of Advice: NEVER walk through your front door with a can of Full Throttle (That awesome energy drink) if you know your mother is a prude. She may think that you're drinking beer and ground you from your best friend's first girl-boy sleepover, the student-faculty basketball game, and the rest of the civilized world.

I'm just giving you a heads-up.

Isn't the first day of eighth grade supposed to be glorious? It's the day where you become ruler of middle school! The day where every grade below you shudders in fear and ducks for cover when you walk by. But Sharpay Evans was not making this a good day. After three years of chasing and fighting, it almost seemed as if she had given up. But for once, I found my eyes on her. She was sitting at the next table over in our loud cafeteria. "Looks like Sharpay had a good summer." Chad laughed next to me. It was the truth. Every eye at our table lustfully follwed her as she stood up to greet a friend at the table next to hers. She had most definitely filled out. If you know what I mean. As she bent over to hug her friend, the sex-starved teenagers at our table slowly rose to their feet, hoping to get a better look at her. And I was one of them. Once she turned, we simultaneously crashed to our seats, hoping she wouldn't notice anything suspicious.

She sat down next to Ryan and she finally felt all eyes on her. She immediately looked to me, tilting her head to the right and giving me a puzzled look. But I was more focused on the full chest budding out of her long sleeved shirt. Her blonde bangs that fell into her eyelashes twitched once as she blinked, and Sharpay looked away, her cheeks turning pink. For once, she didn't like all of the attention on her. She finally gathered her things stood to find a new table to sit at. Little did she know, that eyes were roaming down the curve of her hips as she walked as far away from us as she could get. Chad gave a low whistle, and the rest of our table burst into hysterics. "Who is she sitting with?" Chad elbowed me, as if I was supposed to know. "Isn't he that new kid?"

"You mean Jason." Zeke piped in. "I heard he's trying out for basketball this year." he explained. We all looked him over, noticing his tall strong build and black hair that fell into his eyes. I winced. It was a definite maybe that he would make the team on his first year. "Not if he hangs out with Sharpay." he said her name like he would say diarrhea.

"You better watch how you talk about Sharpay around Troy." Chad joked, probably noticing how my eyes lingered on her for just a few extra seconds. He violently elbowed me once more, causing me to tear my eyes away from her. "See? He's totally in love with her. Just don't tell Bridgett Oliver."

"Am not!" I knew I sounded completely juvenile, but it was important that my friends got it straight that I didn't like Sharpay. She had won the title of 'Drama Queen' way back in the fifth grade when she and Bridgett Oliver went all WWE Smackdown in the hallway. I remembered running as fast as my shoes could take me the second she broke Bridgett Oliver and me apart. She took the glances I was stealing at her as a silent cry for help, when I was really trying to see if she was going to do anything embarrassing when she saw me hold Bridgett Oliver's hand. I was hoping that maybe if Sharpay had seen us together, then she would have backed off. But everything just got worse.

And when sixth grade rolled around, I didn't even exist to Sharpay. And I sort of liked it. "Sharpay is just so... icy." I faked a shiver, even though I didn't know if that was the truth or not. But at least I got my friends laughing, and the fact that I was looking at Sharpay with interest was thrown from the table.

"What are we lauging about?" Bridgett Oliver, the one anti-dote to everything Sharpay Evans squeezed her way between me and Chad. "Is it Sharpay's ugly haircut or the fact that she stuffs socks down her shirt?" she asked harshly. But at the same time, it still seemed innocent and playful coming out of her mouth.

"Both." Chad answered with a snicker. And it wasn't even five minutes before that he was saying that Sharpay actually looked good. But Bridgett Oliver and Chad both held the same passion: to hate Sharpay Evans as much as they could. I didn't understand why Bridgett Oliver wouldn't just dump me and date Chad because of how alike they were. It's not like I would mind. "It looks like you had a great summer too, Bridgett." he grinned.

"Shut up, Chad." Bridgett Oliver scowled. She hated to be called Bridgett and insisted that she be addressed as Bridgett Oliver. Even by teachers. All of the guys stole glances at me, hoping that I was oblivious to the fact that my best friend was flirting with my girlfriend. But Chad was the only person who knew that I was just waiting for this relationship to end. And maybe if they warmed up to each other... "What are you looking at?" Bridgett wrinkled her nose in confusion and followed my eyes across the cafeteria.

Back to Sharpay Evans.

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She was out there. Like everyday after school. And she was still dressed up. No, I didn't like Sharpay Evans. I was just really... curious. After spending my entire two months of summer vacation indoors-with an exception of going out back to play basketball- This was the first day that I realized how... productive of a summer Sharpay had had. The last version of that girl I had seen was the same... but was somehow different. It wasn't the blinding smile she hid behind her lips... or the chest she self-consciously folded her arms over... only puberty-strucken guys like me were interested in things like that. It was something... more. "Sharpay..." I found my lips carving around her name once.

Just in curiosity.

The ring of our doorbell tore me out of thought. Sharpay stood on the other side of our door, holding four bloomed flowers in her fist. I was just about to say something half-sane like, hello, but she angrily cut me off. "No, I'm not here for you." she said is if I had asked a question. "My dogwood is overflowing with flowers. I thought that your mom would like some." she fell silent, and I found it hard to focus on her face. There was just so much more of her... she angrily stomped her foot. "I'm up here, Bolton!" she exclaimed, throwing the flowers to the pavement and storming back across the street. When I was sure she was back inside, I bent over and scooped up the four bloomed flowers on the cement.

Just out of curiosity.

"What was that?" my mother asked suspiciously as I turned around. "You weren't... bothering Sharpay..." her eyes found the four flowers I held and she brought her hands up to her nose. Her eyes widened in panic. "Troy!" he voice was loud and muffled as she stumbled away from me. "Get rid of those! You know I'm allergic to dogwoods!" But they were from Sharpay! But of course I didn't say that to her face. My mom was deadly allergic to most flowers, and ended up with a stopped-up throat, raspy breathing, and maybe even a trip to the emergency room. "Throw them out!" she screamed from the next room. But instead I stuffed them into my pocket, not caring if the pink-white petals frayed or if the delicate stems broke. They were from Sharpay.

The same Sharpay that hunted me down like Bridgett Oliver would hunt for a handbag. The same Sharpay that put my girlfriend in a Full Nelson in high heels. The same Sharpay that suddenly hated me. But I was...

Really, really curious.

Like I said. Watch out for prudent mothers. It'll cost you big-time. Leave a review, please!