Length: 1, 386 words
Status: Complete [one-shot]
A little more abstract than most fics, meaning you have to guess a little about what came in between, and at least try to understand what I'm saying - I tried a different style of writing, and I want to know how it works. That means read and review, please. This will probably determine whether I post it at fanfiction.net or not.
This is totally un-edited, because me posting this was spur of the moment. I was meaning to go do my homework, but I looked at this story sitting on my hard drive, and I had to get it out my system [pun not intended]. This is also totally un-edited because I wrote this in thirty-five minutes.
"...uh, right. Toodles."
Everyone in school knew it before they did.
The first day back at school, they could have stayed out of each other's way, but he stopped and she stopped and they exchanged the stormiest of glares and snappish words before she spun around and stalked off and he frowned and followed her - at a distance - to get to his first class.
He found it, in all honesty, pretty natural.
He knew the biggest things didn't happen in the biggest moments. Michael Jordan didn't score his first basket of many in the midst of fireworks or calls of anticipation. Babe Ruth's homeruns didn't come in where everyone expected it. Tiger Woods didn't get a hole-in-one in the second everyone else knew it was coming.
Similarly, Troy Bolton didn't fall in love with violins playing and the world stopping. His face didn't flush, his heart didn't stop, his mouth didn't curve into a goofy grin.
In fact, when he fell in love - on a perfectly ordinary day at the end of January - or rather, a second afterwards - a teacher yelled at him about missing homework, and his best friend pushed him to the gym to work out - something that did happen practically every day.
He wasn't expecting it. In fact, she actually scared him a little bit, back when they were fourteen. He was young, and didn't believe it was genuine 'like' - until she started laughing at stupid jokes, smiling when he laughed, waving when he made the mistake of glancing her way. He tried to ignore her advances as much as he could - and, when he started going out with someone else, it seemed she'd lost interest in him completely.
Cheerful greetings became terse greetings - terse greetings became, in turn, icy glares.
He thought he was relieved. Why wouldn't he be, right? Neither of them really liked each other. Besides, he was certain there was someone else for her...someone who deserved her, or vice versa, at least. There had to be. [whoever it could be, it couldn't be him.] That's what he thought, anyway.
Was it really his fault that three years later, watching her frown at someone, blinking at the messy scrawl on the callbacks sheet, and icily looking away like she couldn't care less who got in when their eyes met and her eyes sparkled with the slightest hint of laughter before she tried covering up by stalking off - was it really his fault he had the strangest feeling he wasn't relieved anymore?
She thought it was, quite frankly, disappointing.
Living in her fantasy world of storybooks and happily-ever-after didn't prepare her for anything. For Christian and Satine, the little time they had together would last for a lifetime - they stopped, and the world stopped for them. Jack and Rose captured the moment, and let loose, and the music playing in the background for them and for their moment was heartbreaking yet beautiful - heartbreakingly beautiful, beautifully heartbreaking, she could never decide.
Sadly, Sharpay Evans didn't fall in love with her heart stopping and her cheeks flushing. The non-existant background music didn't come to a loud climax, and she didn't fall to the ground, crying.
In fact, when she fell in love - on a perfectly normal day in the middle of February - or rather, a second later - her brother cracked a joke that didn't make sense, and one of her friends reminded her she needed to get going to class - something that did happen practically every day.
For so long she'd chased after him, smiling at a flimsy joke, grinning when he laughed, waving when he bothered to look. When the new girl got him, she stepped back and re-evaluated. He didn't like her [he'd only made it so clear], and now, she couldn't like him - who he was with may not have been one of her favourite people, but she did know where to draw the line.
So cheerful greetings became terse greetings - terse greetings became, eventually, icy glares.
She believed she really had no regrets. She lived a little - she 'broadened her horizon', explored different things - she became a little nicer to some people, made a couple of friends. She stayed away from him, though. She knew her limit. She knew that smile he smiled at the girl wasn't for her - it wasn't meant to be for her. At least, that's what she believed.
Was it really her fault that three years from then, she was stuffing books into her locker and going off on one of her rampages and her friend was trying to calm her down [in vain, of course] and she was looking at people who were cowering from her when she saw him looking at her from across the hallway with the slightest amused smile - was it really her fault that she began to believe she was starting to regret it?
Everyone in school knew they were off-limits before they did.
Two days after the first night of that year's play [musicales were 'so last year', supposedly] - a normal day in early March - they could have stayed out of each other's way, but she stopped and he stopped and they exchanged moody glares and insults before she brushed past him and he brushed past her to get to their first classes.
They could have kept a distance [the hallway always cleared for them in nervous anticipation], but they brushed against each other. They didn't notice what they did, but everyone else did, and they didn't notice that, either.
They could have noticed, but they didn't.
In the middle of March, she broke her leg. When she was running at a national meet - one of the new things she was trying out - she fell and broke her leg and was told she couldn't dance for another couple of months.
Apparantly he couldn't care less about if she cried or not, and apparantly she couldn't care less about him caring or not about if she cried or not.
Late that night, he tossed and turned in bed, wondering if she was still crying, and later still that night, she sat in bed, staring at her broken leg, wondering if he had even thought twice about her.
In the last week of March, he moved into the house across the street. When he stepped out onto the balcony in his room - one of the few perks of his new house - he could see directly into her room.
It seems he told his brother they could switch rooms, and it seems that was the end of that.
A week later, he stood at his balcony again, wondering how long it would take to climb that tree right outside her balcony.
He found out early in April.
There was a new guy in school - Todd, he told them to call him - and to say he was enamored with Evans would be an understatement [Troy thinks to say she was enamored right back would be an understatement, too, but he doesn't look properly, then, does he?].
Two days after that, he finally gathered his guts and jumped easily over the small fence and went to stand at the base of the tree.
And he climbed.
"Sharpay. We need to talk."
"What are you d - "
They did get around to talking [and kissing] and confessing their secrets [and kissing] and talking some more.
He thanked Todd the next day.
Everyone pretended not to know why.
Everyone in school knew they were together before they told them.
Three days after Todd came to East High - near the middle of April - they could have stayed out of each other's way, but he stopped and she stopped and they frowned at each other before they pushed past each other again to get to their first classes.
They could have kept a distance, but they didn't.
They could have hidden the flicker of their smiles, but they didn't.
They could have, but they didn't.
Now everyone in school just has to wait until they choose to reveal it themselves.