The End of the First Battle

"Did you really think this would last?" Troy asks me. "I mean, c'mon, I really care about you-" I open my mouth to issue a desperate rebuke, to point out that if he did he wouldn't be saying this to me. That he wouldn't be ending the best relationship that I've ever had. "-but we're just so different! I really enjoyed our time together, but… this couldn't ever go anywhere. We could never go public, the backlash would destroy m- I mean us! You know that!" and the words stop in my throat. He sounds as if – almost as if – he's trying to convince himself. He's trying to justify to himself why this thing we have, that I cherished so much it hurt, has to end. Hope blooms in my chest like a snowdrop as I try desperately to tell him that, yes, I do think it could go somewhere, but yet again Troy Bolton is first off the mark. "I can't handle it anymore. It's too much for me… I'm sorry." Not as much as me, I think bitterly. No where near as much as me. He walks up the theatre aisle, breaking into a jog halfway and slams the doors behind him as he flees. As he leaves me. Troy Bolton has once again left me to pick up my shattered pride and broken heart. I take one last look around the silent empty hall, and I muster what's left of my dignity like a coat against the creeping numbness spreading through me. The quiet fire in my gut does this better though, fuelled by my anger at society, my resentment towards my ex. It helps me feel alive. While it is a poor substitute for Troy, who used to comfort me, who was exciting and exhilarating and just so damn amazing it scared me how fast I was falling for him, it does what it's meant to. It helps me feel something other than despair; it dams up the heartbreak raging against my emotional walls. It tells me that I didn't stop living as soon as Troy broke it off with me, but such a concentration of negativity is like poison. It sours the heart and pollutes the soul and yes thanks I'm only too aware of this yet I can't help cling to the illusion of strength it gives me. That I'll need if I'm to get some kind of equilibrium while Troy gets together with Gabriella in a desperate attempt to convince himself that he likes girls. Of course, it was possible I was yet again just an experiment, that I was simply a- I try to crush that line of thought, because I honestly couldn't fend off those old hurts and the fresh blows delivered only recently. I fumble blindly in my pocket for my cell, and clumsily punch in Sharpay's number.

"What is it, Ryan?" she snaps. "I'm busy because, unlike you, I have a life."

"Shar, I- I mean I" I stutter out, barely holding back the sobs trying to escape.

"What happened? Are you okay? Ryan? Ryan! Where are you?" she demands.

"Th-theatre." I choke out.

"Stay there! I'm on my way – and your gonna explain how weird you've been these last couple months." She orders, concern lacing her harsh words. Then her next words reminded of just why I love my sister like I do.

"No matter what it is, we'll deal. It'll be okay – I promise."

Sharpay surprised me to an extent by accepting my orientation without question. She did, however, take issue with the fact that I was with Troy Bolton for 5 months and didn't inform her ("Don't do that ever again. Ever. I mean it.") and by the time I had dredged up mine and Troy's time together I was feeling slightly better about the whole thing – the hole in my heart was still there, but the pain less acute. My sister, in contrast, was getting angrier by the second.

"What the hell made him think he could do this to you?! No one and I mean no one, messes with my brother and gets off 100 free. No, no, no, I'm gonna make sure that from now on his entire life is forfeit.

"Shar-"

"He'll be lucky to work in a sweatshop by the time I'm finished with him!"

"Sharpay!"

"I'm going to send his entire world crashing down around his shoulders! That stupid jock and his little hussy invade my theatre and hurt my bro? He won't even know what hit him!"

I grasped my sister firmly by the shoulders and said in as level a voice as I could manage "No." Sharpay looked appalled by this, so I hurried to elaborate.

"Troy… is just scared. He got frightened and ran off. And as for Gabriella, she doesn't have a clue about us. No one does, except you. So it wouldn't be fair to make her life hell just because she's attractive." Sharpay still looked extremely put out by this, but acquiesced reluctantly on payback at Gabriella. On Troy, however, she was unmoveable.

"I don't care if he is just scared to come out of the closet! If he was going to back out crying, he shouldn't have gone with you in the first place. No, as far as I'm concerned he's… he's…," Sharpay's face lit up at her internal revelation, "He's biting his thumb at you! He's gotta pay for messing with you like that!" The spiteful, hurt side of me was crying out for a metaphorical pound of flesh and in my weakness I reluctantly nodded.

"But later. Just now I just want to go home." I pleaded. My sister nodded and in a rare show of empathy linked our arms.

"C'mon then, while we're on the Shakespeare theme, I'm sure we could find my Romeo+Juliet DVD. Ooh and we've got like a ton of ice cream and stuff! C'mon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben and Jerry! You'll forget all about stupid Troy Bolton!"

We both knew that she was lying, but I appreciated the show of solidarity nonetheless.

Besides, the more I thought about that stupid big jock, the better some payback sounded. If he was never intending to come out, was he just using me like the others? I could only guess the answer was yes. Hurtful sonnovabitch. He sure as hell wasn't the only one that could hurt; I have a malicious streak too. After all, what goes around comes around, right?

The funny feeling in my gut must just be from missing lunch…..