Kelsie strode out of her office, the sound of her pricey Jimmy Choos heels echoing through the empty hallway. In her hand, she held a piece of paper and on her face, she wore a frown.

"Ryan!" she bellowed, making her way to the other office at the opposite end of the building. Within moments, she was stalking through the open door—just in time to see her husband of two years tipped back in his computer chair, feet on the desk.

He turned suddenly, his feet dropping to the floor. "Uh, hi Kelse…what's wrong?"

She waved the letter in front of his face. "This. This is what's wrong. What is your sister up to now?"

He frowned and took the letter in question. Studying it for a moment, he scanned the contents—while Kelsie examined her manicure critically.

"Well, it appears that Sharpay's head of the reunion committee. And she wants to stage a reunion musical," he mused, eyeing his wife. Kelsie seemed uninterested.

"What's wrong Kelse?" he stood up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She resisted at first, but then settled, her small form melding perfectly with his.

She shrugged. "Nothing really wrong, but we have a life here, in New York. And now Sharpay wants us to go back. It'll be like high school all over again," she wailed.

He frowned and turned her around to face him. "Kelsie, talk to me. You loved to the musicals at East High. This will be fun. We'll see everyone that we haven't see in a while. It will be okay. And I'll be there with you."

She sighed. "Well that's not all it. There was another paper included in the invite." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small pink letter. Handing it to him, she waited for him to read it.

"Shar wants you to compose the music," he commented. He smiled and hugged her. "That's great! It'll be fun. We can do it together."

She groaned. "I have so much other work to do. I mean—the score for Alice is supposed to be ready in three months and now I have to compose an entire musical in eight weeks."

Ryan laughed. "Kelsie, you worry too much. We will do it together. I will call Sharpay and tell her that we'll be in Albuquerque with a score." With a kiss and a pat on the butt, he sent her back to her own office before picking up his phone.

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"Okay, okay, okay. Settle down!" Sharpay clapped her hands and waited a few seconds before the last murmur died down. Twenty-eight pairs of eyes turned toward her. "I hope that everyone finished their homework this weekend," she added, motioning for her aide to collect said homework.

"Aww…Ms. Evans, why did you have to give us homework over the weekend? It was the worst," complained Hunter Shepp, an athlete that reminded Sharpay of Troy.

"It builds character and besides, you can't excel in drama without some memorizing. And what better way to begin than with Shakespeare? Speaking of which, Amanda Parker, you're up first," Sharpay moved to the back of the classroom and watched as her best student in the class strode to the front to begin her monologue.

Three minutes later, the room was silent as Amanda took her seat again. As usual, she had done an exemplar job. Sharpay smiled as they went through another half dozen presentations. They would spend several days completing the entire class.

Finally she clapped her hands, getting the class' attention. "Okay, now I have a special announcement." She walked to the front of the class. "As most of you know, the spring musical is beginning its auditions. But this year is a little different. It's particularly special for me because it is my ten year high school reunion and I've invited back the class of 2008 to put on a one-night show to raise scholarship money for the school. The class of 2008 will put on a show one night and the next night will be our spring musical. Any interested actors will sign up on my door and prepare for auditions which will take place in two weeks. Any questions?" Sharpay scanned the crowd, watching half her students doze off into space and others feign interest.

"You know, a first year drama student who is cast in the musical is pretty special. I wish you all the luck," she added, just as the bell rang and the room was filled with a flurry of activity as students emptied from its bowels.

She sighed and moved toward her office. It was her planning period and Lord knew that she had a lot to do. Just as she was about to pull out her reunion plans, the phone jangled beside her.

She smiled when she heard the familiar voice. "Hi Ryan!"

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"Ms. McKessie?"

Taylor looked up and smiled at the slight blond balancing a stack of mail and a Grande Caramel Macchiato. "Cheryl?"

"I have your coffee and your mail," Cheryl replied nervously, managing to safely place both the mail and the coffee on the desk. Taylor picked up the coffee and sipped it.

"Thank you, Cheryl. Do you mind typing this for me? I need it to be sent to Congressman Smith ASAP," Taylor added, handing her assistant a stack of papers. As she did, a piece of paper caught her eye. She frowned and picked up the envelope, reading the address quickly.

With her tongue in her cheek, she set her coffee down and tore open the envelope. "What the Hell?"

"Is there a problem Ms. McKessie?" Cheryl asked nervously.

Taylor sighed and slapped the paper down. She picked up her coffee and sucked half of it up the straw. Moments later, she set the coffee down and shook her head. "Sorry, sorry. There's no problem. Just a nasty little invitation for something I'd much rather forget."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I'll get right to these papers," Cheryl said, hurrying out of the office. Taylor watched her go. She picked up the invitation again and reread it.

It's that time, Wildcats!

Can you believe it? Ten years already!

You are invited to the 10-year reunion for the class of 2008

When: June 8-9, 2018

Where: East High School Auditorium

Activities:

Dinner and Student-led Musical—Friday

Reunion Musical Class of 2008—Saturday

It will be an exciting and memorable weekend

We hope you can make it!

RSVP (XXX) XXX-XXXX

Sharpay Evans, Reunion Coordinator

She really didn't want to go to the reunion. She had expected an invitation—granted she hadn't expected Sharpay Evans to be the coordinator. But maybe she had changed with time.

Taylor sighed. How naïve they had been during high school. As if their lives could actually be like their high school musical. Taylor knew firsthand that life was not perfect and that it was what you made it to be. She had worked hard to be where she was today: she had worked her way up the food chain to become one of the best legislative attorneys in the country. Her life was her own and she didn't particularly want to go back to high school again.

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Gabriella Montez tapped her foot impatiently as she watched the elevator ascend through the floors. The little red numbers were not changing fast enough for her own style. Of all the days to be late, it had to be the day that she was getting her first big break in more than six months of working on the same case.

She still laughed at herself sometimes because she ended up a cop. After all those years in advanced placement classes and the Stanford Freshman Honors Program, she had ended up forgoing a law degree for the police academy. And now, after four years as an officer, she had only recently been promoted to detective.

Life was a funny thing, Gabriella thought as the elevator finally came to a stop, allowing her to walk out into the bullpen. She walked to her desk and stowed her purse in the locked bottom drawer. Booting up her laptop, she mused over how much her life had changed since high school.

Here she was, sitting in the Robbery-Homicide Division of the Los Angeles Police Department, instead of a pricy high-rise law office where so many people had assumed she end up. Gabriella was glad that she had changed her career choice. She knew that she would have liked being a lawyer, but had discovered a love for bring down the bad guys and helping the streets of Los Angeles become that much safer. As her computer signaled it was ready, Gabriella logged into the LAPD database and focused her attention to her case.

Six months earlier, a female Caucasian high school senior had gone missing and had turned up murdered six days later. Obviously there was a case in that alone because straight A, Ivy-league bound students weren't prime victims for murder. But the case had taken another turn when a fifteen-year-old Caucasian National Honor Roll student had been discovered strangled in an East Los Angles Park only two months later. Apparently, the press-dubbed "Salutatorian Strangler" had struck again, with a college freshman this time, only one week earlier.

The similarities between all three murders had to mean something and Gabriella had finally discovered her break when an informant had come forward, giving up the knowledge that they knew of a person who seemed suspicious. Looking for a break in the case, she had checked out the information and found that the suspicious person—David Roderick—had a sketchy past and a bleak future.

A quick search of his apartment discovered that he had pictures of all three victims before and after death. This was more than enough for a warrant. The only problem was that Roderick was nowhere to be found.

"Damn-it!" she growled and hit the enter button on the key board. The new search had turned up nothing, zero, zilch. It was as if David Roderick had simply fallen on the edge of the earth.

"Hey Montez, mail for you," her partner Alex called from across the room. As he did, an envelope came flying toward her. She caught it and glanced briefly at the front before using her nail to slit the top open. As she did, she saw that familiar East High letter head. Frowning, she read over the contents.

Sharpay Evans was the coordinator for the Wildcat's high school reunion. That was something that made Gabriella laugh hysterically. Sharpay hadn't really been much for school pride unless it had been her on a stage under a single spotlight. Apparently the thought of that image had been very funny because she actually laughed out loud, causing Alex to look her way, interested now.

He stood up and walked over toward her desk. "What are you reading?" he dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk.

She shook her head. "I got an invitation to my ten-year high school reunion." Laying it on the table, she nodded for him to read it himself.

"And you find that funny why? I would find that horrifying," he replied, his facing telling her another story.

She shrugged. "Well, not so much funny. But interesting, anyhow. Let's just say that my 18 months at East High were anything but boring." The edges of her lips lifted into a smile.

"Are you going?" Alex asked, setting the note back on the table.

"I don't know. For one, I don't know if I can get the time off. And I don't know if I really want to find out how my classmates turned out. After all, it's been ten years," Gabriella replied, rising from behind her desk and striding to the break room for some of the muddy sludge the police department claimed to call coffee. Grabbing a cup, she poured the thick mixture and took an experimental sip. Sometime between college and the police academy, her stomach lining had turned to iron.

Alex appeared beside her. "I think that you should go. It's always fun to see how your old friends and enemies turned out." He held out the letter and nodded toward the captain's office. Clearly, he wanted her to go and talk to their boss right now.

She sighed and snatched the invite from his fingers and stomped through the bullpen to the open door.

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Martha Cross eased her silver minivan into the driveway of her suburban Albuquerque rambler. Cutting the engine, she opened the door and slipped out, grabbing two shopping bags and her big purse in the process.

As she did, the front door opened and her husband of four years stepped out to greet her. "Hey! How was class?" He kissed her cheek and walked past to slide open the van door. In the backseat, their two-year-old daughter Sadie giggled at the sight of her father. He unhooked her from the restraints of her car seat and carried her into the house.

Martha dropped the grocery bags on the counter as Jason settled their daughter on the floor of the family room with her favorite toys. She began unloading the bags, taking out the milk and eggs, placing them in the refrigerator and stowing the non-perishables like the peanut butter and the Ritz crackers in the pantry. Within minutes she'd finished and was about to place the cloth bags by the front door when a small envelope with the familiar East High wildcat picture caught her eye. Frowning, she dropped the bags and picked up the letter.

"Jase?" she walked toward the family room.

He looked up from the mini toy piano that was their little girl's favorite toy. "Yeah?" When he saw her expression, he stood up and walked toward his wife.

Martha held up the letter. "Did you pick up the mail today?"

Jason took the letter and studied it. "Yeah, it was already in the box when I got home. I just put it on the counter."

"This came today," she said, motion to the letter in his hand. He ripped it open and quickly read over it. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's an invitation to our ten-year high school reunion. In June, at East High."

Her eyes widened. "Really? I've been wondering if they were going to have one. I've been thinking a lot about all those times in high school. Seems like so long ago, doesn't it?"

Jason grinned and handed the letter back to her. "I take it that you are planning to go."

"Well of course. I can't wait to see everyone again. Remember how we all hoped that our lives would be like our high school musical? I for one want to know how everyone else turned out," she said, turning back to the kitchen to begin dinner.

"Yeah, it would be great to see everyone again. Do you think they'll all come? I mean—last we heard, Kelsie and Ryan are still in New York, famous and all. And Taylor's living in Washington DC or something. I don't think we heard anything about Gabriella or Troy," he replied, following her into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and drew out some carrots and celery to add to the pre-cut lettuce for salad.

"Well that's why we go to the reunions—to reconnect with everyone," Martha added, grabbing a skillet to sauté the chicken for their salad. She glanced over the counter to see Sadie toddling toward her with her dolly. She motioned to Jason who went to put a movie into the DVD player for her to watch. That would occupy their little girl for a few minutes at least.

As she cut into the chicken breasts, she mused about her own life. Life had turned out good for her. She'd had to work for her happiness, of course, but in the end, she'd gotten exactly what she wanted. She was married to the most wonderful man in the entire world. She had a beautiful little girl and the career she'd always dreamed of at her own dance studio. Yes, life had, essentially, turned out just like their high school musical.

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"I need merlot for the chicken and champagne for the pastries," Zeke said to his assistant who was furiously adding his requests to an already four page grocery list. He walked to the stove and stirred the berry mixture that would become the berry cobbler he'd begun to be known for. After all, Chez Rouge had recently been voted the number one new restaurant in the greater Albuquerque area.

He was a success. That was the simple way of putting it. After all those years of wanting to be known for his cooking skills, he was finally the owner of one of the best new restaurants in the city.

Zeke used the spoon to sample the mixture, wincing a bit at the lack of sweetness. Clearly the berries weren't exactly in season. That reminded him that it was probably better in the long run if he did the shopping, even though he was already pressed for his time. But that was the life of a successful restaurant owner and chef. He added a half cup of sugar and waited for the mixture to simmer down.

"Hey Zeke, this came for you today," Molly, one of his main waitresses said.

Zeke looked up and smiled as he accepted the small red and white envelope. He knew what it was in regards to, as the reunion was the only thing Sharpay had been talking about for weeks. So it was only a formality that he be sent an invite in the first place because he was almost certain that Sharpay would murder…or worse yet, break up with him if he didn't come to the reunion.

"Thanks Molly," he replied, opening the envelope and examining the contents. The invitations that turned out pretty nice. Sharpay must be relieved now, he thought, she'd been worried that they would be spelled wrong.

But Zeke knew that he would have gone to the reunion even if his girlfriend hadn't been the coordinator. He was excited to see how his old friends had turned out. After high school, they'd all kept in touch as much as they could, but life changed and soon their connections broke even future. After all, he'd spent two years in France and Italy studying at the prestigious cooking school Le Cordon Bleu, only to move back to New York two years earlier and finally home to Albuquerque six months ago.

That being said, he was interested in catching up with his old teammates again. Last he'd heard, Troy had been signed on with the Boston Celtics after playing for a short time with the L.A. Lakers. He thought that Chad had been playing with the Lakers for a while, but being out of the country left Zeke out of the loop sport-wise.

Zeke shook his head as he walked into his office to look over the menus for the following day. At his restaurant, he shifted menus by day. That way, people got to try different things when they came to eat. He needed to get to the market for the fresh vegetables and fruit that made his restaurant known.

As he was walking out of the restaurant into the early spring sunshine, his cell phone sang Bop to the Top at his side, signaling who was calling. Sighing, he clicked the green button.

"Hey Sharpay. Just the woman I was thinking of."