A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews!

I am very sorry for the wait but I was on vacation! I'm really sorry; I was going to tell you guys but I forgot. (cringes) Hold your daggers. This chapter should make up for it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or any of these characters except the Wheatons, Alexa Daney, Mike Sanyor, Latishia Yu, Cadence Crawford, and Coach Berkerey. :D For now.

On Tuesday, I walked into school like I had every other day the previous week. But this time, boosted by new confidence because of my new friends, I didn't try to hide in the school hallways. I took good looks around, observing the people intricately and what they did.

A thin, toned cheerleader I recognized from my history class as Alexa Daney was gossiping to her two sidekicks, whispering something in their ears rapidly while her eyes darted around. She had long, thin blonde hair, skimming her waist. Stretched, slender legs did a poor job of supporting her, which were so skinny they somewhat resembled a chicken's. Her eyes were tiny and seemed like mere dots of sky blue. She also had a miniscule mole, just to the side of her mouth. Alexa was a sneaky one. I had learned quickly to stay out of her path.

I snapped my head in the other direction, only to find a second East High student staring at something unidentified.

It was a football jock named Mike Sanyor, watching something with an amused expression on his face. He was built and burly, his muscles so large and bulging that it was almost frightening. There were countless rumors that he was using steroids, and somehow, they seemed very believable. He had dark hair and matching dark eyes, beady and seeming to squint so hard that it hurt to look at him. He was a player. Thank God he was only in my gym class. He scared me to death.

Latishia Yu, the number one girl to fuck on every single guy's list, was watching something too, her gaze uncomfortable and unsettling. She always had this awkward way about her, and her head was constantly up in the clouds. She was the central girl of the school; everything seemed to revolve around her, and the boys absolutely fell at her feet. None of the girls seemed to understand what made her so appealing and alluring to the hormonal boys. Sure, I understood why, but along with the rest of the female population at East High, I was bummed why they superiorized her so drastically much more than the other girls.

Maybe it was because she was so strikingly exotic looking, her multiracial element playing its part—her mother was mostly African American, while her father was mostly Chinese. Yet, she had these spinning almond-shaped hazel eyes, said to have come from her Italian great-grandmother. Latishia had a reputation for the skinniest, smallest waist you'd ever see; I was sure she could wrap her hands around it. In addition, she had enormous, full boobs, which were always literally spilling out of skimpy tank tops. It was honestly quite disgusting, but the guys all drooled over her despite. But what she was really famous for was her ass. I swear to God, her ass was triple the size it should have been to be considered at least slightly normal.

Cadence Crawford was also staring at something, someone. She was a geek. Like me, I guess you could say, but even lower on the popularity scale. She was scrawny and short, borderline midget, with wispy blonde hair that I suspected she had never brushed in her life. It was tangled helplessly, her green eyes pale, and she always gave off an odor that smelled like a grandmother. She wore these huge plastic framed glasses, which were practically screaming for an upgrade. Plus, she wore grammy cardigans and stiff pants with waists up at the bellybutton. She was always hugging a book to her chest, as if it were her guardian, saving her from the "evils" of the school.

What were they all staring at? I was growing anxious in anticipation and worry. I tried following their gazes, but every time I locked eyes with one of them accidentally, they would jerk their eyes away.

What was up with this? I was beginning to grow extremely nervous. Shit. If I were stuck at this school for the rest of the year, at a place where I felt suddenly so uncomfortable around the rest of the school, I would perish. This was no way to enjoy senior year. This was no way near what I'd wanted, what I had fantasized. Then again, nothing had turned out they way I had made believed it to be.

When I noticed.

They were staring.

At me.

They were all staring, whispering in each other's ears, stealing quick furtive glances at me, and hoping I wouldn't notice.

But I did.

Why were they all staring? Why were they all whispering? Was it because I was the new girl, and just hadn't noticed it before?

My heart dropped.

Did Taylor, Kelsi, Martha, Sharpay, Chad, or Eric spread a rumor about me? Or anyone else?

I would slaughter them if they had. Had they only been nice to me so they could lure me into a trap? Was this a play on me? Oh, God. I had been too easy. They knew I was lonely and helpless, so they aimed for me. They had won me, and now they were getting their fun.

I was feeling sick to my stomach. Tears brimmed my eyes as I quickly made my way through the crowded halls, absentmindedly shoving people aside and desperately seeking my next class. I held my breath, shoving the wooden door open and quickly taking my seat in the back of the classroom. Sharpay plopped down into her seat beside me seconds later, completely breathless and arranging her hair in different ways to hide a very visible hickey. After she succeeded, she sighed approvingly, her gaze traveling over the rowdy class and finally landing on me. She gasped almost instantly.

"God, Brie, are you okay?" she put a hand to her heart in concern.

I felt so nauseous. I was going to throw up. I knew I was. I couldn't take it anymore. Everywhere, at every school I'd been to, I'd been the freaky math girl. That girl you weren't supposed to talk to, because she had freaky germs. That girl you just left behind, left sitting alone in the corner reading her geometry textbook over again for fun. The girl you envied for getting straight A's, so you covered up the jealousy with harsh hatred and painful tormenting. I was that girl. I was that girl, considered to be insane for believing that learning was fun.

I didn't realize I had been panting. My forehead was hammering, giving me the most unbearable headache. I dazedly looked over at Sharpay, who was staring at me with alarm strummed in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she demanded again, raising her eyebrows.

"Sharpay," I whispered, playing with my thumbs. "They were staring at me. Everybody." I paused, taking in a trembling, deep breath. "Everyone. Almost everyone at this school was staring at me as I walked down the hall. Shit, look, Shar, they're staring at me now!"

Indeed they were.

Sharpay whipped around to see the curious faces of the students glaring at me, analyzing me in a hauntingly similar way that Taylor, Chad, and Sharpay had been only the day before. Sharpay narrowed her eyes at them threateningly, and they quickly turned, switching their focus to the teacher who had just promenaded through the door. Sharpay bit her lip, thinking hard.

"Gabriella…" she started, unsure how to continue. So she sighed, her elbows hitting her desk and her face falling into her hands.

Was she hiding something from me? Like everyone else? Did this have to do with what Chad was so fretful about yesterday?

I suddenly felt very insecure around her, and I slouched down in my seat, almost hoping that I could just disappear magically.

"Brie," Sharpay began anew. "I really don't know. I wish I knew, but I don't. If I did, you know I would tell you."

She was lying. She was fucking lying through her perfect white teeth.

"Liar," I hissed, unable to control my boiling temper. I wasn't stupid. I knew something was going on. And did they really think they could hide it from me? Did they really think that just because I was the new girl, that they could get this past me? "You can't play me, Sharpay. I'm not going to allow it."

Sharpay sighed again, this time rubbing her temples vigorously. "Gabriella, you have to believe me. When I moved her from Tallahassee, everyone was staring at me too."

I cocked an eyebrow, not believing her unconvincing story. "Oh, really?" I challenged, rolling my eyes and preparing myself to hear the rest of her fib.

She nodded forcefully, as if trying to stress how honest she was being. "I swear it. People thought I was weird. You know, with my acting obsession and all. I don't know, maybe they were just not used to having such a rich person in town." She shrugged haughtily, bringing her fingers up and examining her newly manicured fingernails. They sparkled silver in the light, and she smiled in satisfaction at this.

"Oh, I never knew you moved," I played, knowing exactly were I was going with this. I smirked.

"Uh-huh," Sharpay nodded again. "Pre-k."

"Sharpay, that does not count for people staring at you!" I refrained from rolling my eyes. "But why are they staring at me?"

"Because you're new," Sharpay stated simply, as if that were the easy answer and it the most obvious thing.

"Emily Lachlan is new!" I whisper-yelled, as the teacher was speaking at the front of the room. I pointed to a petite blonde in the second row. "And no one's staring at her."

Sharpay froze at this, her face paling to white. "E-Emily? Oh, w-well…she used to live here but moved away for a year because her dad was transferred to Nepal."

I put my hands on my hips. "Oh, c'mon. Emily told me herself that she lived in Maine and had never moved in her life, let alone been this far west in the country."

Sharpay's jaw dropped to the floor, but she quickly shut it, suddenly sitting up very straight and furrowing her eyebrows. "Sorry, I guess I was thinking of Emily Sheppard." She laughed nervously, her voice shaking. She threw her hands out in expression, "Whoops."

I sighed, putting my head in my hands and trying my best not to cry through my frustration. I was really getting fed-up with Sharpay and her pathetic act. This was pitiful. She was supposed to be an actress! Gosh, I really didn't want to see her on stage.

"Sharpay! I'm serious. Just come clean now." Sharpay bit her lip anxiously, suddenly twirling around in her seat and facing the teacher. She whipped out her pink sparkly notebook before I could even snap at her, and began scribbling down notes with her pink feather pen. "Sharpay!" I whisper-yelled again, this time so angry I could feel hot steam emitting from my red ears. I rolled my eyes.

This was hopeless.

I was so lost, and so confused.

If Sharpay wouldn't break, then no one would.

I would have to continue what I had been doing all my life:

Wait.

"BOLTON!"

A sweaty, exhausted Troy swiveled around on his aching heels, shaking some of his matted hair away from his striking eyes to reveal a fuming Coach Berkerey.

This was not good.

Coach Berkerey was his coach here, and was the most impressible coach Troy had ever met. Nothing, absolutely nothing Troy did gratified him. Troy wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was secretly afraid of Coach Berkerey. His small black eyes were intimidating, and seemed to make up for his plump, short figure. He only had a bit of hair left, and some of the braver guys had had the nerve to tease him about it. They had not ended up well.

Troy pressed his lips together anxiously, frightened of what might happen next. He began playing with his clammy fingers as he waited for Coach Berkerey to reach the spot he was planted. He could barely move, his feet seeming rooted into the floors of the new basketball court. Troy could feel more sweat forming on his wet forehead as Coach Berkerey finally approached him, his chin meeting his neck in a disapproving glare. He clucked his tongue, giving Troy an unsatisfied once-over before finally speaking in his hard, drawling voice, "Bolton."

Troy coughed into his fist timidly. "Yes…sir."

Coach Berkerey narrowed his beady eyes at the young senior, not liking what he saw or heard one bit. "Well?" the coach spat. "Don't you know why I'm speaking to you right now, even after session has ended and all the other boys are eating dinner?"

Troy sighed, knowing very well inside why.

He had not been up to his game recently. It was as if his touch was lost. As if he had forgotten everything he had learned in the past. There was just something that felt so wrong. So out of place. Something was missing. And what was there that he could do about it? The harder he tried, the harder he failed. It was almost like a routine. He felt like he growing weaker and weaker with each long, unbearable passing day. He could hardly remember why he had even signed up for this basketball boot camp in the first place.

Oh, right.

To miss school.

And sadly and surprisingly, he would rather be at school than there. Anywhere. Even at one of Ms. Darbus' boring, unuseful lectures.

"Yes, sir," Troy whispered, staring at the floor. He just couldn't bear to look in the coach's eyes. He hated disappointing people. And yet, he did time after time.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!" barked Coach Berkerey. Troy's head snapped up instantly, forcing him to look into the squinty black eyes, which resembled small black beetles. Coach Berkerey began rubbing his temples, trying to breathe through his uncontrollable frustration. "Bolton, we didn't take you for nothing. We know you are a kick-ass basketball star. So cough it up. Tell the truth. What's happened to you? What's on your mind, and what's preventing you from playing as well as you had? I want the truth, and now." Coach Berkerey put his hands firmly on his hips, waiting for Troy to give a reply.

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy tried to desperately please the coach, bending his head down in a sort of bow in apology. "I just feel homesick."

Coach Berkerey raised a dark, hairy eyebrow. That was only a sliver of the actual truth, and the middle-aged coach seemed to sense it somehow. The coach glared at him heatedly for a long time, breathing hard as he thought deeply of what to do. His chubby face was beaten bright red, his skin flushed to the color of raw meat. Troy just stood there, awkwardly, his sore feet anchored into the spotless court floor. After what seemed like hours to Troy, Coach Berkerey picked his head up and yelled frustratingly, "Just get out of my fucking sight, Bolton."

Troy hastily obeyed, breaking out into a run from the gleaming gym, and then morphing into an all-out sprint. He ignored the alarming pangs in his chest, his body screaming for him to breathe. He just kept going, his worn legs pounding against the ground as he raced across the enormous campus. He wasn't going to stop. The orange sun was just setting, hiding behind the horizon line and spraying the sky with enchanting shades of red and pink. The cool, biting wind slapped and nipped his skin, as if it were scolding the ridiculous ideas and plans that were forming and blossoming in his mind.

His desires had welded into his brain even more after the confrontation with the coach. He didn't want to be there. Out of all the places in the world, he shouldn't have been there. He knew where he needed to go, and he knew what he so urgently wanted.

Why was he still here then?

He should have done this so long ago, and he internally kicked himself for not doing so earlier.

The second he arrived at his dormitory, he tore open his suitcase. Everything, everything he could find that was his, he stuffed into the poor piece of luggage, barely caring if he forgot something. He felt exasperated, feeling a different side of him starting to take over. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. For once, he was just going with his first instinct, his first yearning, not bothering to deem the consequences.

As he sped from the campus, he suddenly felt heavy weight being pulled off from his shoulders. As if the costume he was wearing had suddenly been ripped off. He felt liberated. Free as a bird. It was as if he were suffocating before, and now he could finally breathe fresh air.

He didn't stop running until he reached the bus stop.

Troy ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Everyone in the world just needs to do something out of range once in a while. And Troy hadn't been spontaneous in what seemed like forever. Just between everything that had happened to him—so suddenly, so out of the blue—it was as if he didn't have the time. He missed taking risks. Big or small. But then again, there were some risks he regretted with all his life, and he couldn't stop from smacking himself for his stupidity. A certain string of memories popped into his mind, but he knew that he couldn't think about that. It took time, but he finally forced all the saddening thoughts from his brain.

A loud whirring of a motor woke him from his deep thoughts, and his head shot up to see the awaiting bus.

Here goes nothing, he thought to himself quietly, picking up his suitcase. He dragged himself up the steps, but looked back before the thin doors closed behind him. He looked up at the navy blue blanket that now was the sky, sprinkled with what were called stars.

He needed to find his old self. He hadn't been himself in months. He knew everyone missed the old Troy, the happy, positive Troy who was the friendliest, most diligent guy you'd ever meet. But now…he wasn't even sure what he was.

He knew where to find the person he was looking for, just no idea how to get there.

What a hopeless journey this would be.

A/N: Ooh Troy's running away!! :eek: