Author's Note: I wrote this to practice getting into Sharpay's head. I've noticed that people have a tendency to make her Miss Happy after the movies. However, I'm pretty sure that she wouldn't be so excited to make friends with the people who have turned her down multiple times (Troy), people who she's been turned down for (Gabriella), and people who think she's a spoiled brat (everyone else). I wanted to show that she's still pretty pissed about what happened. So pissed, in fact, that she's totally blocking out the one person who wants to make her feel better.
Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical, nor do I own High School Musical 2. However, I do own the soundtrack to both. That's gotta count for something.
Second Author's Note: This is Zanessa-Troyella-Obsessed. I changed my pen-name to Literature Is Life.
All Was Lost
The blonde scowled as the looked down on the lower level of the cafeteria.
She watched the tiny heads move around like ants in an anthill, neat and orderly, their steps never varying. Contrary to popular belief, she loved high school. Correction; she loved how predictable high school students were. They never stepped out of line for fear of humiliation and rejection. The tables were simple enough to identify; the nerds, the skaters, the gothic crowd, the musicians, the jocks, her personal favorite, the thespians, and plenty more sub-categories. No-one mingled. Everyone was 'assigned' a place and they stayed there.
It was like looking down on an assembly line. Each person entered the cafeteria, grabbed a lunch tray, and got straight on the lunch line. They moved along the line, purchasing their lunch. No-one stepped out of line. Once they'd paid for their lunch, they moved along, still in a straight line, heading for the center of the cafeteria where they would branch out to their clique's table, sit, chat, and eat. That was how it worked. There was no cutting, no mingling, no disrupting the pattern.
But no… Today there was a certain brunette girl with a brown bag clutched in her hand, weaving her way in and out of the rows of tables, heading for a table that was clearly not her cliques, seeing as it was full of boys throwing balls at each other. The bleachers surrounding the three tables were full of girls in matching uniforms, all seated beside pom-poms and watching the boys dreamily. The table farthest to the left was the baseball team, the table to the right was the football team, and the table in the center had been claimed by basketball.
The blonde gasped dramatically as the brunette paused to talk to someone at a table, blocking the natural flow of students. She was wrecking everything. Thankfully, the blonde was able to let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding when the brunette continued towards her destination. However, another gasp escaped the girl when she saw what was happening. A boy, the primo boy, had stood up from his spot at the center table, and he had waved her over. It was easy to see that the brunette girl was embarrassed about this public gesture, but it didn't seem to stop her from hurrying towards him.
Troy Bolton wrapped his arms around Gabriella Montez and kissed her.
And that's when Sharpay Evans knew that all was lost.
She didn't notice someone coming up the stairs, someone treading on uncertain and foreign territory. She didn't notice a rather tall boy clutching a Tupperware container approach her table and greet her brother nicely, nodding at Kelsi Neilson who was a table away. She was too focused on the abomination down below. Gabriella Montez had just found herself a seat at the Wildcats' table. She'd found herself a seat on Troy Bolton's lap, and he was not complaining.
How dare that Einsteinette come into her school and steal her musical, her summer, and her future boyfriend? Losing the Twinkle Towne was one thing; while the winter musical had been stolen away, the spring one had been stolen back. (The fact that neither Troy nor Gabriella had auditioned was completely beside the point.) Losing the summer was infuriating; but it was easily dealt with because she'd only really lost the first four weeks. Losing Troy Bolton to that 'genius' was definitely inexcusable. It just made sense for them to be together. She was the most popular girl and he was the most popular girl.
At least, that was her opinion on the matter.
East High's primo boy: Troy Bolton
There was no disputing that. Everyone knew his success story, and everyone could see how amazingly gorgeous he was. And that made him top-notch; that gave him the title of primo boy. Whether he liked it or not.
East High's primo girl:
It was disputed. Half the student body agreed that Sharpay had that title locked up since her third grade performance of A Christmas Carol, in which she portrayed a female version of Tiny Tim, Tiny Tina. For a girl who'd had custom made Pull-Ups, she'd been very convincing as a small starving child. The other half argued that Gabriella should be considered for the title. She was, after all, a sextuple threat; she could sing, she could dance, she could act, she was smart, she could play sports (Troy had been teaching her basketball), and she was beautiful. To Sharpay, it didn't matter what Gabriella was or could do. She hadn't even been at East High for a year, and suddenly she was top-notch? No way in hell was Sharpay about to let that happen.
And yet it had. The proof was ten feet below her red stilettos, sitting at a table full of basketball players. She crossed her arms over her chest when she saw Gabriella feed Troy a grape from her Ziploc bag, giggling when he popped one into her mouth. Suddenly, Gabriella stopped to look around, asking Troy something. He paused and then nodded, looking around as well. Their heads turned towards her, and they found her watching them. Troy sighed, shaking his head and turning back to his lunch. But Gabriella held her gaze, staring the blonde down. Sharpay narrowed her eyes, uncrossing her arms and bracing her hands on the railing. The brunette's expression didn't change and then she turned around, not looking back once.
Finally tearing her eyes away from the disgusting sight of "Troyella," she let her gaze fall on the nerds. She almost passed out at the sigh of a familiar head of hair, hunched over a textbook. Chad Danforth could be seen, seated beside Taylor McKessie, studying something from a book. Chad Danforth, studying, and book did not belong in the same sentence together. She turned always from the balcony, stalking back to her table, ignoring the boy seated at the table awkwardly, his hands playing with a plastic container of brownies.
Sharpay grabbed her iced quadruple-mocha cinnamon vanilla-cocoa blend frappaccino with a caramel twist and a slight dollop of the rarest mint-chip whipped cream, topped by a pretty little maraschino cherry, off the table and stormed out of the cafeteria without so much as a word to anybody. Walking down the hallway, she turned corners sharply, heading for the one place that always made her feel better.
Shoving open the theater doors, she stomped up the stage stairs and behind the curtain, into her dressing room. Sitting down in her chair, she looked at herself in the mirror, patting a stray hair back into place. After a moment of watching herself, the scowl fell off her face and she sighed, looking down at her hands. Sitting up, she began shifting the assorted items on her counter. She organized her hair products, first alphabetically, then in size order. Then she redid the arrangements of photos on her mirror, first by color scheme, then by date. As she was organizing her makeup, a floorboard behind her creaked and made her jump. Whirling around, she found herself looking at a tall African-American boy, anxiously holding a container in front of him.
"Zeke?" she snapped, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. The reflex made him think he wasn't welcomed and he began to stutter. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in a less angry tone. He shrugged, holding out the container wordlessly. She raised an eyebrow, taking it from him. Popping off the top, she inhaled the strong scent of chocolate fudge and walnuts. "I don't eat sweets," she said blatantly, dropping the container onto the freshly cleaned counter.
"I thought you might need a pick-me-up," he said softly. "You seemed upset the other day, so I thought I'd make you something sweet." The thespian blinked several times, glancing at the boy in the mirror as she took her seat again.
"You made them?" she questioned, staring. He nodded, stepping out of the doorway, further into the room. "You made them for me?" Yet again he nodded, taking another step into the room. She looked back at the brownies and then shook her head. "Well, next time you decide to be Superman and make everything better, try low-fat stuff, m'kay?" Zeke didn't respond, just looking down at his shoes. "And you know," she continued, "I don't know why you would think that brownies could make things better. Brownies can't fix that fact that I've lost everything, can they? No, they can't. Getting fat isn't going to change anything, is it? It's only going to make things even worse. So the next time you decide to pity me, grow me some carrots or something." She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest and scowling.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't think you would like the low-fat cookies. They tasted funny, so I thought I'd try brownies, even if they're not healthy." He furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't girls usually gorge themselves on pints of Ben & Jerry's when they're upset anyway?" He sounded genuinely curious, not as though he was making fun of this habit.
"Yes," she sniped, "We do. But that's when we break up with someone. When we lose everything that means something to us, we starve ourselves of calories." Zeke shrugged, looking around the dressing room.
"That's not healthy," he said simply, taking a seat in a chair beside her. Her head snapped towards him, scanning his seated form several times. She considered snapping at him to get up, but something inside her told her not to. After all, he'd been the only one to offer a form of comfort, even if it had been an extremely unhealthy one.
They sat in silence for the longest time, her not wanting to speak to him and him not wanting to be the one to break the silence. Finally, she sighed, kicking the wall with her foot.
"Why is it me that you've got this creepy obsession with?" she asked, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "Why don't you like Gabriella like everyone else does? She's a sextuple threat, after all. And I bet she's never lied or cheated or messed up. She's perfect. So why'd you choose me?" Zeke looked at her, getting up and standing behind her chair.
"I like you because you're not perfect," he said bluntly, shrugging his shoulders. Her eyes snapped to his and she scowled, sitting up in her chair. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and re-crossed her legs.
"Excuse me?" she demanded. He smiled slightly.
"Well, you're not flawless. You've got vulnerabilities and that makes you seem human. Weaknesses mean you're not invincible. You know, invincibility scares people; it makes them think that the person they're giving their affections to doesn't need anybody. It turns people off. So it's nice to see that you do have a weakness. Everybody needs somebody to talk to, to listen to. And some people need fudge brownies," he hinted, glancing at the container. "Everybody else has somebody, even Ryan. I just figured that you might need somebody too." Sharpay stood up, turning to face him.
"I meant 'What do you mean I'm not perfect?' Not explain why you like me," she screeched, giving his chest a sharp shove. Zeke's face paled slightly and he backed up.
"Enjoy the brownies," he mumbled. "I need the container back." He left the dressing room, closing the door slowly, his footsteps echoing throughout the theater as he walked across the stage. Sharpay moaned dramatically, rubbing her temples gently and collapsing into her chair again. Looking at her reflection, she sighed, searching for her cover-up; that birthmark on her neck was starting to show again.
After a moment of sitting alone, she felt slightly queasy. She was alone again. She'd totally turned off the one person, the one guy, who cared enough to check and see if she was alright. And she'd probably hurt him by saying she'd lost everything she'd cared about when it was painfully clear that he was still there. And refusing to eat a damn brownie probably didn't make him feel any better.
But why should she care? She wasn't his keeper. It wasn't her responsibility to make sure that he was alright. But that little fact didn't keep her from reaching over a pulling out a brownie, pulling a piece off and popping it into her mouth.
"Not bad," she mused.
--
The quick clicking of heels on a tiled floor told Ryan that his sister was coming down the hallway, approaching fast. He turned away from Zeke and Kelsi, smiling weakly at Sharpay as she ordered other students out of the way. She stopped upon reaching Ryan and jutted out her hip, the bag she was holding swinging from side to side.
"I'm going to get a ride from Lea. I'll see you at home." Ryan nodded, suddenly sniffing the air. Sharpay glanced at Kelsi and then turned her eyes on Zeke. She shoved the bag into Zeke's hands and gave his lower arm a gentle squeeze.
"I'm going to need that back," she said before continuing down the hallway. Zeke looked down at the brown patterned bag, lined with a gold rim. His eyes bulged at the diamond buttons on the bag and wondered what the heck was inside. He opened the bag and pulled out an empty container, the one previously filled with chocolate-fudge walnut brownies. Shaking it slowly, he heard something flopping around inside. Popping the lid off, he pulled out a small scrap of paper from the bottom.
Not bad.
My house, Saturday night, 7:30. Don't be late.
And bring more brownies. I'm pretty screwed up.
Zeke grinned, turning around, only to see Sharpay turn the corner, glancing at him so quickly that it was barely noticeable. Turning back to Kelsi and Ryan, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Kelsi's eyebrows were raised and she was sending him a questioning glance. Ryan, however, had not noticed Zeke yet. He was merely frowning in the direction his sister just went, glancing at the container she'd just handed to Zeke. Turning back to his two friends, he finally spoke his mind.
"Why does Shar smell like chocolate fudge?"
Author's Note: So my friend gave me the idea to write a second part, about the date. I was considering it, and so I started writing it. Thus far, I'm feeling slightly uninspired. So I'll see how well this story goes over with the reviewers. If it totally bombs, I probably won't continue, just because I'm very uninspired. But if you like it, let me know and I'll try to continue it when I find the time. (Stupid school.)
I would like to make one request. If you read, it would be really great of you to drop a quick review. Even if all you write is, "Cute" or "Nice" or "Oh my God that was awful." Just something so that I know people are actually reading. If you seriously can't, it's okay. I write for myself, but your reviews inspire me. And I especially need inspiration if I'm going to consider finishing the second part of this story.