A/N: Hey, what's up, everyone? I'm so sorry it's been so long. I've had a lot of stuff on my mind and haven't been able to update. I've just been so busy! I'm sorry Gabriella is kind of a jerk. Haha. I love her, dearly. This chapter you'll be able to understand a bit more of why she is the way that she is. Cool. By the way, I have totally folded to the Lil Wayne side. I love him! My boyfriend's kind of like, obsessed. So, I gave it a shot. Love, Whitney.

"Yeah, we're stubborn and melodramatic, a real class act."

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

Gabriella's Mind-

I knew that Troy Bolton would be the type of guy to break easily. I had a feeling that once you attempt to shatter the exterior, you have nothing but the interior looking back at you. But, shit, I was never one for words.

Was it rude of me to imply that he was living a lie- that he was involved in a life that he didn't choose? Well, how could that be rude? It was the truth, and it was very easy to notice.

I did feel sort of bad afterwards though. I mean, it was erratic how he looked so broken after leaving my room. It looked like he was going to cry or something. I knew he was a very sensitive, susceptible type of guy, but I wasn't thinking it would piss him off so much. He had to understand though—he called me a whore. Well, not technically, but he connoted that. I don't know why I got so angry about it. I mean, he was right; I was into all of his friends. Could you blame me though?

It wasn't like people haven't called me a whore before. I've heard it plenty of times. The funny part was that I heard it more out of girls' mouths then guys'. I'd guess that was because most of the guys just wanted to fuck me, so they didn't bother stating the obvious. Ugh. Yeah, I'd admit I could be a whore. But, still, when someone says shit like that… I get pissed.

"Gabriella?" Yeah, I knew that this was coming—the fucking lectures.

I growled and slammed my fist into my pillow, grimacing at the thought of getting bitched at by my ignorant parents. Yeah, all right, I fucked up, as usual. And I told off Jack Bolton. Honestly, Jack shouldn't have had his head up his ass to begin with. And Troy shouldn't be so God damn loyal to his family's heritage or whatever. I mean, seriously, he was taking their side because they have the same last name! Assholes, I tell you.

"Gabriella, please, we need to talk." This time it was my dad's voice. Oh, so now the poor little lamb decided to send in the lion to come and push me out of my shelter. Ha, yeah right.

"Leave me the hell alone." I snarled, viciously, like some kind of wildcat or something. Ugh, figures I'd compare myself to a wildcat.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that; I'm your father." My father chided.

I rolled my eyes. "So you say." I was so mean, but quite frankly, I just never cared for my parents. It was that bad.

"Gabriella Anita Montez! You open this door right now." Mama Teresa was getting pretty pissed.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? I'm not fucking sorry that I told Jack off. You know what; someone needs to remind people that they aren't better then anyone else. I understand you guys think I'm some sort of disturbance to this planet but I really don't care. That just goes to prove how much you two aren't parents to me." I was so sick and tired of them acting like they control me, yet acting nothing like parents should.

"We could be parents to you if you listened to us for one damn second." My father belched, sounding more aggravated then I've ever heard him. "You live in my house, if you keep acting like we aren't your parents, you might as well live in the streets." He sounded serious—it almost scared me.

"Gabby, please." My mother continued pleading. "We just want to talk. We are your biological parents, you know that. You just never talk to us."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to. It's none of your business. If I ever told you shit, I'd end up like Troy and his fucked up family—living a lie. I'm not gonna try and live up to your expectations. Sorry, Gina." I felt so remorseful for saying everything so harshly. My parents didn't deserve that much. Did they? I was just angry—angry with Troy, angry with myself, angry with life.

And that's when they surrendered. Sure, it wasn't like they weren't still upset, because I could tell they were. I heard my father slam his fist onto the door a final time, before I heard him mumble something like, "Forget it." I heard them as they descended the stairs.

I sat there for a second, furious with everyone and everything. I let out a final snarl as I looked out my bedroom's window. It was dark outside, pitch dark, a complete eclipse regulating the world outside my house. My eyes glanced from the window to a bulletin board I had positioned on the wall. My mood instantly gloomed. I found myself looking at memories of my life, my life before moving to Albuquerque.

The first thing I laid my eyes on was a picture of me, a picture of me smiling. Yes, I was once genuinely happy, contented, and not ridiculously moody to everyone around me. I closed my eyes, reliving pain from the memory. I could visualize myself laughing hysterically, almost to tears, in a vibrant park, in New York City.

It was like I was there, literally. I could smell the scent of the city; I could feel the Nirvana that spread throughout me. My gut tightened, my heart felt as if it was being pinched. I could hear the loud voices echoing from next to me, the sound of a few dogs barking, a few cars zooming passed, the faint aroma of gasoline and nature overcoming me. And then, a new image came to my mind—he was there. I could see him, he looked so flawless, as he always did, and his chestnut-colored hair was ruffled and long. It was so shaggy, as if it hadn't been cut in months, but framed his face so wonderfully. He was tickling me, a smile formed across his full lips; his gorgeous brown eyes were full of animation and happiness. I could still see the dimples in his cheeks. He was so adorable. He had a look of love in his eyes, as did I. I finally squeezed out of his grip, running away from him. He came after me, as fast as a bolt of lightning, wrapping his arms around my tiny waist, pulling me towards him. He kissed the back of my neck, giving me goose bumps—not the goose bumps of fear or terror, the goose bumps that make you want to just make love to someone, right then and there.

And then, the memory faded.

My eyes flickered open, and I felt my heart break all over again. It was gone. Why couldn't I just let it go? Surely it had already been two years. And I still thought about it every single time I looked at that photo.

I guess everybody has their inner pains, right? Well, shit, just like everyone has their first loves. As you can tell, I already had mine. And it didn't end out well.

I met the kid in eighth grade, when we were still naïve and stupid. At this point in time, I didn't know anything about boys, or feelings for that matter, so it was all something new and exciting. I took the chance when he asked me out, and we started this adventure that I thought would never end. He was the first guy that seemed sincere and actually wanted a long-term relationship. He was a relationship guy and he was used to them—that was one thing I should have taken negatively instead of positively. I mean, it started out fantastically. He was the greatest boyfriend ever, and for four months, I felt like I was living a dream. Then, something changed. He was dying to well, do it. And I was willing to sacrifice my virginity, my pride for him. I loved him so much; I promised him that I'd do anything for him, even if it meant giving up my hopes and dreams. I was an innocent, church girl. I didn't want to give up my virginity until my wedding day. Wow, complete alternation, right? So, we did it, obviously. And that wasn't what I had expected it would be. I mean, of course, the first time is usually a little rough, but he made it worse then rough. In a car's backseat, you can't really do much, but when he can't see anything and he's telling you he doesn't know if he's in the right 'spot', you get kind of annoyed with him. I mean, what the hell, how can you not find it? Dumb ass.

After this, everything just went downhill. All his friends started telling me shit like that he was a compulsive liar, that he stuck things up his ass, I don't know, really weird things. Me, being a straight, ordinary girl, got really disgusted, and ended up breaking up with him right before our eight month anniversary. And the dumb-ass part about it was that I was still madly and irrevocably in love with him - stupid, stupid girl. I was going into my freshmen year, and I thought I could be independent. Ha, fuck that. After a month, he started seeing some other girl. Can you imagine that shit? After one month, after being in an eight month relationship, and even after I gave up everything for the fucker he goes to some girl! And the saddest part was that this girl was like a seventh grader, and she was one of those emo, scene chicks, the one's that have like comb over's and talk LYK OMG 4rl bby. Yeah, those annoying girls.

I was crushed, and sort of mad. I, of course, started talking to him again. This wasn't a good idea. I mean, at first, it was like war, because I kept saying I didn't care, when truthfully, the only reason I was bitching was because I did care. Weirdly enough, I ended up confessing my feelings to him. He was first really confused and didn't know how to respond, but then he did, and said he loved me too. This was the worst part. We went back out and everything was fine and dandy. The emo fucker left us alone. Then one dumb-ass night we went to get drunk together and that girl was there. My boyfriend just completely froze up and began to ignore me. He even talked to her! Actually, it was more like flirting! After the party, he told me he doesn't love me anymore, and seeing her again confirmed it.

Can you imagine that shit? I was back with him; my feelings recovered, while he continued saying 'I love you', and then he seen her, and just dropped me!

Now, they were together, for two years, just like us, and he was telling her these things. Ugh. It just stabbed me in the heart to even think about these types of things. Afterwards, I just went a bit lunatic and started sleeping with all of his friends. Easily, it became a routine, and here I am, sitting on my bed, almost in tears, thinking back.

I hated my life, or even more, myself. I mean, I couldn't do anything right, and my parents confirmed that every single time they talked to someone. They always had to bash me somehow; they had to throw in my face that I was a mistake to this earth. I didn't ask for God to put me in someone's stomach. Hell, fuck that, I don't belong here. I should be up in Mars or something; I could be a piece of grain or something.

I felt hot tears of agony come pouring down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, not wanting to feel small and vulnerable. I wasn't one to let my emotions get the best of me. Hell, I hated the fact that Troy seen some of my emotions tonight. He had seen me cry! Ugh. Surely he'd throw that in my face in the near future.

Not only did I dislike myself, but I had nothing worth living for. I mean, I didn't strive to succeed in the future, or have some weird-ass goals planned out. I had nothing to give me motivation to wake up and take life day by day. Sure, it'd be nice to have some motivation, but since I lost him, I haven't had anything—just a bunch of tattooed, careless guys who were using me for the same exact reason I was using them. You ever look at those people around you that just go around and do things heedlessly with people they don't even like? Well, don't sit there and judge them because you know, at one time, they most-likely did care, they just got fucked over so bad that they don't know how to anymore. Seriously, when your heart gets ripped out of your chest and then stepped on, you become slightly afraid of that happening again. It's the worst feeling in the world, and it's worse then anyone can even explain. You just feel like you're dying inside, like your heart is literally hurting, like someone gave you surgery on it and its recovering. But it never recovers; it only throbs, every living second.

And then, a few years later, you feel it, just by thinking about it. It doesn't go away.

I felt drowsy by thinking too much, by caring too much about the past. I instantly fell to my pillow and drifted into a slumber. Sleep was the only thing that stopped me from thinking. And obviously, messing with a bunch of guys at once was the only thing that stopped it from hurting.

I woke up the next day to the sound of rainfall. Why the hell was it always raining in a desert? I swear I brought bad luck to New Mexico or something.

I hopped into the shower and let my hair fall down to my back, lazily. I was never pleased with the way my hair looked all wavy, but I didn't care enough to do anything else with it. I applied my makeup and then threw on a knee-length dress with a buttoned-up black long-sleeved sweater that went over it, buttoning halfway up.

I headed downstairs and plopped down at the dining room table, consuming the pancakes that were placed neatly in front of me. My parents were nowhere to be found, so I figured that they already headed to work. What else was new?

I emptied the plate and then grabbed the keys off the kitchen cabinet. My parents would carpool each other to work in the mornings, leaving me with my mom's vehicle—a casual, yet sporty, cerulean-colored Honda Civic. It was a year 2005 and it was in extremely good condition. I only liked it because I could jam out like a mother fucker in that car. Seriously, the bass was tight. I'd being jamming out to Weezy F and Kanye West all the way to school.

K ok ok ok, you will never stop me now
You'll never stop me now
Ok ok ok, you will never stop me now
You need to drop it now (drop it drop it)

Cuz I don't want no Robocop
You moving like a Robocop (yea)
When did you become a Robocop
No I don't need no Robocop.

I grinned, singing along, all the way to East High. I pulled up, looking fresh in the car, and slung that stupid huge bag over my arm. I really didn't like school at all, but what the hell?

First hour was dull, as usual. Jason officially annoyed the living shit out of me. I mean, he would be a decent guy if he didn't say the dumbest things all the time. And plus, he was always hitting on me. He should have gotten the hint and just pissed off in the beginning. He just kept bugging me.

By second hour, I found myself strolling towards Chad Danforth's locker, pretty psyched. I hadn't seen his cute face in awhile. Ha, geez.

"Chadskee, what's up darling?" I asked, naughtily, approaching his locker.

He turned around, looking a bit surprised, and flustered, "Gabriella! Uh, hi," He stammered, looking a bit nervous now, "what's up?"

"Not much. I'm tired." I complained, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, this school business sucks." He agreed, chuckling. He faced me, "Want me to help you with all of those books?" He suggested, caringly.

I couldn't help but smile at his gesture. "That would be so sweet of you!" Easily, I found him carrying about one half of the books I usually carry. Hmm, life was great when guys liked you enough to cater for you.

"My homies!" I didn't have to even turn around to figure out that Zeke was coming up from behind us, those stainless white teeth fixed in a huge grin. He slipped his arm around Chad and I, playfully, "What's the 411 today, bitches?"

"Don't you ever call me a bitch." I muttered, half-joking.

"Oh, no, no, you're a beautiful bitch, if anything." Zeke acted like this made everything much better.

"Zelda, seriously, can't you say anything right?" I asked, frustrated.

Zeke looked slightly hurt. "I'm sorry babe, I mean, you're simply beautiful, no bitches involved." I could only roll my eyes.

"Ha, Zeke, that's enough." Chad advised, giving Zeke a stern look. His chocolate-brown eyes flickered towards me as Zeke released his grip on us, "What are you doing tonight, Gabriella?" The softness in his eyes made me grin.

"So far, nothing," I responded, biting my bottom lip, spicily, "do you have any suggestions?" I used an infamous wink of mine to turn him on.

"Well, uh, um, sort of. . ." He jumbled his words around. "I was, eh, wondering if you would, maybe want to . . . study together?" He suggested, so innocently.

I could have gotten lost in his adorable chestnut-colored eyes, hadn't it been for the figure that was walking towards us, uncomfortably. It was none other then Troy Bolton, looking damn sexy in a pair of khaki pants and a striped white and navy polo. His hair looked impeccable, as usual. He didn't seem to notice me until he was half-way towards us. And then, his ocean-blue eyes jolted to my own.

"Gabriella?" Chad's question seemed to evaporate within the air.

Troy noticed me, and his expression changed, dramatically. He seemed to linger at the spot he was, and then, he turned around, as if he changed his mind, and just walked away. I watched him, confused. Was he avoiding me?

"What the fuck is with Bolton?" I inquired, maybe a bit too honestly.

"Bolton? Woman, who cares about Bolton? You've got me." Zeke purred, attempting to swap another arm around my neck. As a reflex, I pushed his arm away, maybe a bit too harshly.

"Uh, Troy's always weird like that." Chad looked uneasy, scratching the back of his head. "Did you even hear me, Gabriella?" He looked a bit hurt, this time.

"Hear you? Did you say something?" I asked, ignorantly, folding my arms and looking away from him.

He looked annoyed, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a rather vivacious Sharpay Evans, who came up from behind us, "Gabby! There you are!" She shrieked, excitedly. Ugh, what does she do, drink ten cups of espresso in the morning?

"Sharpay. . ." I heard Chad grumble, tepidly.

"Good morning!" Sharpay sung animatedly. "Guess who has a date tonight?" She boasted, grinning at me, widely.

"Shar, dude, it's like seven am—"

"More like eight, girly."

"Right, whatever. What the hell? Don't you ever call me 'girly' again. That's fucking nasty." I blurted out, the irritation taking me over. I just couldn't help it. I mean, first, Troy was like avoiding his friends because of me, and now, Sharpay is gonna go on and on about some ugly mother fucker.

Chad, Sharpay, and Zeke looked taken back by my sudden aggravation.

"Uh, okay." Sharpay looked a bit indignant as she looked away, while the rest of them just looked shocked.

"Baby G, you seem a bit uptight, babe, I understand that sometimes it's that time of the month, but Zeke here can give you a hand any time of the week. Ya dig?" Zeke was seriously fucking retarded.

"Dude, Zulu, shut up. I don't like you, I never did, so will you stop trying to like rape me? It's getting really annoying." I huffed, as I shifted my hair back and walked away from them.

"Uh, Gab!" I heard Sharpay cry, confused.

"I'll see you in Physics." I muttered, not looking back once.

I don't even know why I was so mad. Well, I was never a morning person, but that was just one thing. Why did Troy ignore me? Ugh. God, why did I even care? He's just another stuck-up jackass. He thinks he's so cool because he's on the basketball team, because he's their star player, because he gets straight A's and has Academic Honors classes, because he does everything just right, because he's perfect.

Why did I even worry? Shit, he's gonna be so hardheaded. He would never think about hooking up with a mess-up like me. He had morals, not grudges like me. All I ever do is sit around and groan and moan about my life, while he just worked hard to make his better. I was lazy and uncoordinated—he was athletic and exemplary. I didn't have a pimple on his ass.

Ha, shit, like that kid would have a pimple on his ass anyways. He's far too gorgeous.

Ugh. My brain hurt from all the thinking. I never really obsessed over what some good guy thought about me, nor have I ever even obsessed over a good guy, really. Well, I haven't since middle school. Hadn't I had enough? He was too good for me. And I didn't even have good intentions. I didn't want to get married to him or fall deeply in love with him; I just wanted to get into his pants. What was wrong with me?

This kid doesn't want some stupid tramp trying to seduce him and his friends, if anything; he wants something real, something idealistic, and something he can hold onto. But he was so perfect, it was obvious why he never had a girlfriend—none of them could even attempt to please him.

I walked into Intermediate Writing and sat down next to Chad, who just looked at me strangely, probably wondering why I was in such a bad mood earlier. He didn't question it though; he just began writing in his journal.

I was just sitting there, tapping my pencil onto the desk, bored. I never did work, and I never will. I'm just as lethargic as it gets, and frankly, I just don't give a damn. I couldn't just change routine now.

My eyes trailed towards the front of the room. Ugh, there he was, strolling in like he was a king, or a Greek god or something. I think all the girls in the class looked his way as he walked in, but he didn't look at any of them. It was almost as if he didn't have to look, because he just didn't care.

I guess we are similar in that way.

But God, he was so hot.

I hated it.

And then he noticed Chad and I. He seemed to freeze up, as he did earlier this morning. I became a little tense. He better not just avoid me again. I mean, I didn't say that much shit, did I? I didn't think I was that cruel. . .

Apparently I was though.

He ignored the seat in between us and headed towards the corner of the room, greeting some guys I've never seen before, ever. He grinned at them and took a seat next to them, chatting with them warmheartedly.

He was such a chicken shit.

Chad noticed this and looked a bit confused. He looked in Troy's direction and caught Troy's eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. Troy didn't make a response; just turned back around to the guys he was sitting with.

Ugh, maybe flirting with Chad wasn't such a good idea after all.

END OF CHAPTER