Random HSM fanfic - Chapter 1
Ryan Evans was rarely ever home, he rarely ever took a break from work. From the time he graduated from Juilliard, it had been a whirlwind of choreographing and occasionally (far less often than he would have liked) acting. One would think that being one of the most sought after choreographers on Broadway would help him get decent roles; but no, he was usually an understudy or chorus boy while directors would pick his brain about the dance numbers. It was a living.
Slowly spinning his chair clockwise, Ryan slouched and watched the ceiling float past. Since Ryan was rarely without work, the two months he decided to take off were going to be torture. There was no choice in the matter though. Ryan had agreed to write a book over two years ago, but with his work and especially the fact that he moved to LA for a year to choreograph for film, he had never found the time. Now the deadline was looming and he needed 100 000 words in eight weeks.
Ryan stopped the movement of his chair so he was facing the computer again. The flashing cursor on the blank document was taunting him. He started spinning again.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he could figure out what to write about. The publishers probably wanted showbiz gossip or an in-depth look at what went on behind the curtains. Ryan had considered and discarded both of these ideas. For one thing, he was uncomfortable airing his co-workers private lives for everyone to see (not the best way to maintain good working relationships), and for another, what went on behind the curtain was supposed to be mysterious - that was part of the magic of theatre. All that was left was him, Ryan Evans, and he hadn’t been interesting in years.
Ryan paused in front of the screen again. Instead of sitting up straight, he remained slouched, pulled the keyboard onto his lap and began typing.
There are a few little known facts about me which people would probably find interesting. The first is that I am a twin. Yes, I shared the womb with someone. It wasn’t just anyone though; it was none other than Sharpay Bolton, First Lady. Another little known fact is that I haven’t talked to her since my graduation from Juilliard.
It was the classic beautiful day - birds were chirping, the sun was shining. My parents had cut short their safari in Africa to they would make it to my graduation. Say what you will about my parents and their travel habits, but they were always there when it really mattered. Sharpay, on the other hand, had refused her invitation, one of many I had sent over the years. Sharpay refused to set foot in a place that saw themselves as too good for her. I could have been the star of the theatre production or dying in the gutter, and Sharpay wouldn’t have budged on her conviction. This time, I refused to let it go.
“How can you miss my graduation” I demanded, spewing as much venom as possible into the phone.
“Ryan, I can’t go,” Sharpay’s voice was firm, but not its usually resentful tone. If I hadn’t been so angry, I probably would have noticed then.
“Look, I’m sorry Juilliard didn’t accept you,” I spat. “I’m sorry you weren’t as talented as you always assumed, but this is my day and as my sister you should be here and not spoiling it over wounded pride.”
Silence reigned over the line for a moment. “Ryan, look, I’m going through something right now.”
“Because everything is always about you, isn’t it Shar?” I paced angrily. “Everything is all about your problems, and your feelings. It’s all about you. Well guess what, Shar: this time it’s not about you - it’s about me and how you should be here for me. God, for once in your beauty-queen selfish life, consider someone else’s feelings.”
With what sounded like a choked sob, she hung up the phone. I spent the entire ceremony thinking angry thoughts in her direction… A month later, Sharpay eloped with Troy Bolton and in another six months they had the first of the Bolton children. My niece, whom I’ve never met, Troy decided to call Gabriella. I’ve noticed from various media over the years that my sister’s eyes don’t sparkle anymore. How do you apologize for something like that?
Years have gone by and she’s had four more children (not a single Ryan in the mix) and the space between us has gotten so big it’s insurmountable.
Ryan tossed the keyboard back onto the table and walked away without saving. It was time for lunch anyway. He rubbed his nose and silently damned the dust in the office for making his eyes water.
Sebastian (Ryan’s cat) meowed angrily at Ryan for some food, which Ryan kindly provided in a saucer on the table so he wouldn’t have to eat alone. Sebastian was a gift from his parents when he moved to LA a year ago, so he wouldn’t be lonely - and if the press photos were any indication, they gave Shar an identical cat named Viola which was probably from the same litter (his parents were weird like that).
Ryan ate his sandwich and scratched behind Bast’s (as Ryan preferred to call him) ears. Then he returned to the computer and erased the entire document. It was too personal. Also, Shar was a public figure, and estranged or not, he couldn’t set her up for a media blow up.
Slowly spinning his chair clockwise, Ryan slouched and watched the ceiling float past. Since Ryan was rarely without work, the two months he decided to take off were going to be torture. There was no choice in the matter though. Ryan had agreed to write a book over two years ago, but with his work and especially the fact that he moved to LA for a year to choreograph for film, he had never found the time. Now the deadline was looming and he needed 100 000 words in eight weeks.
Ryan stopped the movement of his chair so he was facing the computer again. The flashing cursor on the blank document was taunting him. He started spinning again.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he could figure out what to write about. The publishers probably wanted showbiz gossip or an in-depth look at what went on behind the curtains. Ryan had considered and discarded both of these ideas. For one thing, he was uncomfortable airing his co-workers private lives for everyone to see (not the best way to maintain good working relationships), and for another, what went on behind the curtain was supposed to be mysterious - that was part of the magic of theatre. All that was left was him, Ryan Evans, and he hadn’t been interesting in years.
Ryan paused in front of the screen again. Instead of sitting up straight, he remained slouched, pulled the keyboard onto his lap and began typing.
There are a few little known facts about me which people would probably find interesting. The first is that I am a twin. Yes, I shared the womb with someone. It wasn’t just anyone though; it was none other than Sharpay Bolton, First Lady. Another little known fact is that I haven’t talked to her since my graduation from Juilliard.
It was the classic beautiful day - birds were chirping, the sun was shining. My parents had cut short their safari in Africa to they would make it to my graduation. Say what you will about my parents and their travel habits, but they were always there when it really mattered. Sharpay, on the other hand, had refused her invitation, one of many I had sent over the years. Sharpay refused to set foot in a place that saw themselves as too good for her. I could have been the star of the theatre production or dying in the gutter, and Sharpay wouldn’t have budged on her conviction. This time, I refused to let it go.
“How can you miss my graduation” I demanded, spewing as much venom as possible into the phone.
“Ryan, I can’t go,” Sharpay’s voice was firm, but not its usually resentful tone. If I hadn’t been so angry, I probably would have noticed then.
“Look, I’m sorry Juilliard didn’t accept you,” I spat. “I’m sorry you weren’t as talented as you always assumed, but this is my day and as my sister you should be here and not spoiling it over wounded pride.”
Silence reigned over the line for a moment. “Ryan, look, I’m going through something right now.”
“Because everything is always about you, isn’t it Shar?” I paced angrily. “Everything is all about your problems, and your feelings. It’s all about you. Well guess what, Shar: this time it’s not about you - it’s about me and how you should be here for me. God, for once in your beauty-queen selfish life, consider someone else’s feelings.”
With what sounded like a choked sob, she hung up the phone. I spent the entire ceremony thinking angry thoughts in her direction… A month later, Sharpay eloped with Troy Bolton and in another six months they had the first of the Bolton children. My niece, whom I’ve never met, Troy decided to call Gabriella. I’ve noticed from various media over the years that my sister’s eyes don’t sparkle anymore. How do you apologize for something like that?
Years have gone by and she’s had four more children (not a single Ryan in the mix) and the space between us has gotten so big it’s insurmountable.
Ryan tossed the keyboard back onto the table and walked away without saving. It was time for lunch anyway. He rubbed his nose and silently damned the dust in the office for making his eyes water.
Sebastian (Ryan’s cat) meowed angrily at Ryan for some food, which Ryan kindly provided in a saucer on the table so he wouldn’t have to eat alone. Sebastian was a gift from his parents when he moved to LA a year ago, so he wouldn’t be lonely - and if the press photos were any indication, they gave Shar an identical cat named Viola which was probably from the same litter (his parents were weird like that).
Ryan ate his sandwich and scratched behind Bast’s (as Ryan preferred to call him) ears. Then he returned to the computer and erased the entire document. It was too personal. Also, Shar was a public figure, and estranged or not, he couldn’t set her up for a media blow up.