The lost ones.

6:30 am, 1st September

The alarm clock rang in her ear, a shrill reminder that the brother who would normally be waking her up by jumping up and down on her bed, throwing water at her, and generally being a pain in the arse, wasn't there to do so.

Instead she dragged herself out of bed, and into the ensuite bathroom, to get ready for the day ahead. 4 weeks ago, she would have spent half an hour in the shower, singing into her apple shampoo. Water bills were not a worry in the Evans household. Today however, she just showered. No dance routines, no singing, just mundanely washing her hair. Towelling herself dry, she wandered into her dressing room, shielding her eyes slightly at the dazzling sharpayness of the room. All glitter and pink, with the words "There are no small parts, just small actors" emblazed on one wall. Studded with rhinestones no less. And Sharpey pretty much hated it. 4 weeks ago she had loved it, but now, she couldn't stand to be in there. She selected her outfit as quickly as she could, and ran away from the land of full length mirrors and shiny clothes. Sharpey hadn't looked in a mirror for 4 weeks.

Pulling on her boot cut jeans and one of Ryan's hooded sweatshirts, which he only wore in the house of course, Sharpay realised that she didn't need to get up as early as she used too, she was in no hurry to fit in a 45 minute dressing ritual, which included trying approximately 42 different outfits, and then discarding 41 of these, and her 30 minute make-up and hair regime. Normally she would apply 4 coats of mascara, foundation, powder, eyeliner, blusher, lipgloss, eye shadow, and concealer, followed by the blow drying, curling, and plumping of her waist length golden hair. No make up was worn, as it would only get rubbed off. No intricate hairstyle was created, as she knew that her new habit of running her hands through her hair every 10 minutes would ruin this. So a simple bun would have to suffice. She grabbed the first hand bag she could find, a plain black tote, which was fine by her, and threw in the essentials; phone, keys, and wallet.

She was sorted for the day.

She had at least an hour until she needed to leave for school, so decided to watch some crappy breakfast TV. On her way downstairs, she passed her mother's bedroom. Pausing, she went to knock on the door, but a stifled sob from inside made her walk on by. She couldn't cope with that right now. She couldn't really cope with anything.

Down in the kitchen, she diced some fruit, and threw it in the blender. Smoothies were the only type of nutrition her body could take at the minute. Pouring the liquid into the first cup she could find, she settled down in front of the plasma screen, and watched spongebob squarepants. In a strange way, it bolstered her for the day she faced. She could just see Ryan and herself sitting there in their pyjamas on Saturday mornings, laughing their 17 year old faces off. Just the thought of his smile, his laugh, and his confidence oozed into her tired body. She was ready for the day.

She didn't have the radio on whilst driving to east high. She couldn't face the music. She drove in silence, not even thinking more than she really had to. Pulling into the car park, she felt sick. She'd 

heard about nerves, yet never experienced them before. She supposed that this sequence of astonishing acrobatics her stomach was performing was a sign of nerves.

It was when walking up the steps to the main entrance of East High that she started shaking, and it was pushing open the doors that she started hyperventilating. But she knew that this moment would never get any easier, however much she prayed it would. On the way to her locker, Sharpay Evans passed the wildcats, along with the assorted taggers on. Everyone took a step back, as someone yelled a witty comment about "the ice queen" of east high, asking where her lapdog was. Asking if she'd even driven away even her own brother. Expecting a witty and cutting retort, they were shocked when she paled and walked as quickly as she could towards her locker, which was, quite unfortunately next to that of one Troy Bolton, king of the wildcats, so she didn't escape the remarks. She kept her head down, her eyes narrowed, mentally deflecting all the insults. When a tear escaped her eye, troy noticed, and nudged her,

"Hey, what's up? You don't normally let these Wildcats wind you up!" It was said so sweetly that Sharpay almost began to believe that he cared. But she knew he didn't. She knew he was just after the latest gossip.

"I'm fine Bolton, ok? No good stories around here." With that she dropped her books, to jeers from the rest of the team, and she let out a small scream as she bent down to pick them up.

"Hey, Sharpay! You clash with your locker now! What a disaster!" Some unknown jeerer called. They were right, with her red jumper and pink locker arguing. The locker was so old sharpay. She didn't like it. It wasn't her anymore. She began to rip the laminate plastic off the metal box, cutting her fingers in the process. She screamed like a banshee, continuing to rip as hot tears cascaded down he face. It was like time had stopped for the other students in that corridor. All were fascinated by the spectacle of Sharpay Evans losing it in the middle of the hall. She was sobbing now, and even though she'd torn all the plastic off, it still wasn't enough. She kept on, and on until her fingers were bleeding from being scraped against the door of her now plain locker. She wanted to remove every trace of the Sharpay Evans everyone knew, and no one loved. No one laughed, everyone was too shocked to even move, let alone laugh. Sharpay felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her frail body, and though at first she tried to resist, she let them pull her away from the growing throng, and outside.

The unknown arms circled sharpay, and held her close and tight whilst she sobbed onto the attached shoulder. His hands rubbed circles on her back, and he lent down to whisper in her ear,

"I don't want gossip. I don't want to be the hero, and I don't want to be the 'special guy' people confide in. I just want you to be ok, thats all."

Sharpay looked up to see troy Bolton looking expectantly at her. He was the one that pulled her away? He was the one who had whispered in her? It was too much for the already overloaded mind of Sharpay Evans, and untangling herself from his arms, turned on her heal and fled, leaving troy with a mouthful of unsaid cries. He knew he had to let her go, so she could find her own way back.