Another update (finally)!
I apologize for not updating sooner, but I lost my job recently, and still haven't found a new one, so I've been rather preoccupied - and the muse hasn't been happy, either. Still, you can't keep a good muse down for long, so I figured I'd start with the easier to update story, and work my way out from there.
Disclaimer: I (still) don't own either High School Musical or Princess Protection Program, as I am not - nor do I work for - the Disney corporation. I wouldn't mind doing so, though. Florida has much warmer weather then Massachusetts. (Not a fan of winter.)
Also, I feel I should address just when this takes place. The HSM chronology can be a bit confusing, really. The first movie came out in 2006, while the second, the events of which took place only months later, came out in 2007. HSM 3 came out in 2008, and starts with the basketball championship game. Since that would be a year after HSM 1 ended, does that mean the events of that movie take place during early 2007? Well... no. Not in this story, anyway. Due to some story purposes, particularly in the area of technology, it will instead be early 2010. (This has the happy side effect of making it a bit more believable for Taylor and Gabriella to have done what they did during the multi-competition day, as not only would they have more advanced toys to play with, the school would be more technologically integrated. Because, frankly, for 2006, that was, well, kind of ridiculous.) Senior Year will be 2011.
When would this mean the events of PPP take place, you ask?
Maybe you'll find out someday. *mysterious smile*
Sadly, Troy had never returned after the coach had come to retrieve him and Chad. She hadn't gone looking for him, not wanting to cause any further disruption.
"We've never made it past the first round in the Scholastic Decathalon. You could be our answered prayer."
Part of her wished she had.
"I'm focusing on my studies this semester, and helping my mom get the new house organized. Maybe next year." She'd been surprised to find that Taylor's bookbag looked more like a piece of luggage - complete with handle and wheels - though it spoke volumes about her commitment to her education that she would need such a thing to transport her books. It made Gabriella feel all the more guilty about turning her down... or trying to turn her down, anyway. She quickly - and not terribly subtly - changed the subject to something she was more interested in. "But what do you know about Troy Bolton?"
"Troy? Hmm." Taylor seemed somewhat bemused by this conversational turn. "I'm not an expert on that particular sub-species," she remarked as they moved up a small set of stairs. Leading them toward a group of cheerleaders, she continued, "However, unless you speak cheerleader, as in, 'Oh, my gosh! Isn't Troy Bolton just the hottie super-bum?'"
Gabriella barely supressed a laugh. The what? The cheerleaders giggled and agreed with this assessment - it must have been a good thing, then - and paid them little attention as Taylor took her hand and lead her away from them. Once they were far enough away, Taylor drew them to a halt and chuckled as she asked, "See what I mean?"
"I guess I don't know how to speak cheerleader," Gabriella conceeded. And as much as she enjoyed learning, that was one language she had no intention of picking up.
"We exist in an alternate universe to Troy the basketball boy," Taylor explained.
She knew she should probably just let it go - Troy presumably knew how the student body viewed him, and his reaction to the idea that they might learn he sang suggested he didn't want that view to change - but she couldn't. "Have you tried to get to know him?"
"Watch how it works tomorrow when you have lunch with us," Taylor told her. "Unless you'd rather sit with the cheerleaders and discuss firm nail beds."
"My nail beds are history," she admitted, holding up her hands as proof. Partly that had been deliberate - having such short, unadorned fingernails was one more little detail that helped her distance herself from her 'royal image' - and partly it was a side effect of the self-defense lessons she'd insisted Elena give her.
Taylor did the same. "Sister!" she exclaimed, sharing a giggle with Gabriella before they resumed heading for the late bus.
Gabriella did her best to steer the subject away from the scholastic decathalon as they headed home. The conversation touched on her history of changing schools, though she did her best to talk more about the places she'd been, rather then the reason she'd had to leave them. Taylor believed her story about her mother's job, of course, but it still made her uncomfortable. She sensed Taylor was a bit jealous that she was so well traveled, though her genuine sadness at having to leave whatever friends she might have made kept the other girl from actually saying anything.
In return, Gabriella asked about living in Albuquerque, and about the people at East High. Life in Albuquerque was not terribly exciting, she was told, which she'd kind of already known, but it was nice to have that confirmed. Not that she could tell Taylor that this was a good thing. She mostly learned about the members of the scholastic decathalon team and some of the more academically inclined students, but that was better then nothing. She could ask Troy about the others, she decided.
The thought made her smile.
As much as she was enjoying making a new friend - even one who was still determined to get her to change her mind and join the scholastic decathalon team - it was probably fortunate that Taylor's stop came as soon as it did. Taylor had been slowly but surely wearing down her resistance, and combined with her stated dislike of Troy - and the rest of the jocks, presumably - Gabriella wanted some time away from her to get centered, and to make a plan on how to deal with her.
Ordinarily, she would have pulled out a book and spent the rest of the ride reading, but not here. Not now. She knew, intellectually, that she was in no danger. Still, she was surrounded by strangers, in an entirely new place. She kept a perfectly pleasant expression on her face - not smiling, but polite and friendly, without displaying any particular interest in any one thing - that she and her siblings had dubbed "Royal Expression #7" and let her gaze wander. She observed her fellow students, she took in the details of Albuquerque as it passed by. The route was, of course, different then the one she'd taken to school that morning, but comparing what she saw to her mental map of the town - she hadn't memorized it, yet, but she was familiar enough to mostly figure out where she was - she was able to tell when her stop was coming, and was on her feet even as the bus slowed to a halt.
She'd learned the hard way that, as rude as it seemed to her, thanking the bus driver for the ride was not something that anyone did in American schools, public or private. She'd settled instead on giving them a sunny smile as she got off the bus. Since her smiling was hardly an uncommon sight, no one ever said anything.
Elena, unsurprisingly, wasn't there waiting for her. She was never quite sure what Elena actually did during the day - her cover was as an insurance agent this time, while last time she'd (supposedly) worked at a bank, and before that she'd been a real estate agent. At least, as far as anyone who asked knew. While she was certain Elena could likely function in any of those jobs - or any of the others - being well-trained enough and convincing enough to do all of them seemed a bit... unlikely. And while she believed the PPP could write her any number of convincing resumes, and make certain that they were accepted as fact, the jobs chosen all required a huge investment of time and focus. After all, they were selected because people would believe that Elena (and thus Gabriella, as well) would have to move around all the time because of whatever job she claimed to have just then. Elena was her protector; actually doing any of those jobs would interfere with that.
And no one ever quite managed to meet any of her co-workers.
Fortunately, as long as Gabriella managed to convey some measure of sullen resentment toward her "mother's" job - difficult, as she hardly felt any such thing toward Elena in any fashion, but she was a good enough actress to pull it off - any friends she might have made tended to leave the subject alone, and no one else really cared enough to ask. (Well, no one but any snobby "princesses" or bullies, but after the training she'd received in dealing with politicians and visiting dignitaries, handling them was child's play.) As long as Elena showed up at any required parent-teacher meetings or, if Gabriella couldn't manage to avoid the academic spotlight, any competitions, no one in the teaching staff said a word.
Settling down on her bed, she started on her homework while she waited. It was hardly difficult - the American educational system didn't hold their students up to the same high standards her tutors had, she'd often noted with dismay - and her mind couldn't help but wander a bit as she worked. Textbooks, notebooks, worksheets... It really was such a waste of paper. Costa Paraíso, being a not-TOO-large tropical island, really had nothing in the way of a lumber industry. As such, any related product - paper, wooden furniture, even firewood - was all imported. Due to the cost of that, as well as more environmentally friendly reasons, her father hadn't had any real difficulty pushing for state-of-the-art recycling programs, as well as switching to electronic filing wherever possible. While she could appreciate that some people might prefer working with hardcopy, and that having physical backups of certain documents could be necessary, this just seemed so... wasteful.
Yes, she herself could often be found with a physical book, but that was mostly because she had no alternative. E-book readers were becoming more and more common these days, but they were too expensive to bring with her to most of the places she went. Elena was also wary of the registration process with most of the popular brands.
However, as soon as it came out, she was getting a Kindle 3G (with Wi-Fi, thank you very much). If Elena protested, she'd just argue that it would help her establish her cover further.
The teachers hadn't assigned much homework on the first day back, and even only half-paying attention, she finished it in short order. That out of the way, she sat back and started trying to figure out what would be needed to make the school a bit more tree-friendly. Ideally, if it were up to her, she'd simply install electronic workstations for all the students in every classroom. Integrate them into the desks, maybe. Internet access would have to be limited, of course - she knew enough about American students by now to know unlimited access would be horribly abused - but the ability to email homework assignments to teachers or access the day's lessons even while out sick would be fantastic.
At least, it would to her. Her fellow students, however, didn't exactly share her work ethic.
It wouldn't happen, of course. All the good planning in the world couldn't make the budget magically expand enough to cover something so incredibly expensive. She might have more luck with recycling, though. And maybe, she thought, someone could set up some kind of web service that would send students text messages about homework assignments, or reminders about upcoming exams. Maybe she could mention the subject to Taylor at some point, if she continued spending time with the other girl.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly fell over in surprise when someone abruptly cleared their throat. She looked up to see Elena standing there. "When did you get home?" It was not the kind of greeting her station dictated she give to anyone, let alone her caregiver, but protocol - and good manners - also called for one to announce oneself and wait for invitation before entering a princess's bedchambers.
In light of her recent thoughts, even if it was properly American, such rudeness felt even more grating then usual.
"A little while ago." Elena's expression was fairly neutral. "What's this I hear about a detention?"
Gabriella didn't bother asking how she knew about that. The school could have called her... but she was willing to bet that wasn't how the agent had found out. "My cell phone rang in home room. As a result, myself and five other people were detained after school."
Elena blinked. "It... rang?"
Evidently whatever information gathering method she was using wasn't entirely thorough. "Yes. No one did anything more then look at our phones, and some only objected or made a snide remark aimed at another student, but that was sufficient." She shrugged. "In retrospect, I suppose I should have set my phone to 'vibrate'. I'll make certain to correct that in the future." Turning her phone off was out of the question. Part of the reason she had it at all was so that Elena could reach her in case of emergency. Thankfully, that had never actually happened... yet.
"Who was calling you? No one has your number," Elena pointed out warily. She got a new number - sometimes a new phone entirely - every time they moved. Unfortunately, part of the PPP's protocol when they relocated her was that she completely sever all ties with everyone she'd gotten to know duing her time there. As a result, as far as her old friends were concerned, she'd completely dropped off the face of the Earth. She felt bad about that, but there was nothing she could do.
She smiled. "Except for Troy," she corrected. Her smile widened. "He's in my class."
Elena placed the name quickly enough - Gabriella had, naturally, told her all about what had happened at the teen party - and she didn't seem terribly surprised... or happy. She wasn't upset, either, at least not yet. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
Though on the subject of things that would upset her... "There is one other thing, though," Gabriella said with a sigh, losing her smile. She took a breath, then told Elena about how easily Sharpay had picked up on part of her trail. "I know even my cover has me moving around a lot," she finished, "so it wouldn't be unreasonable to find a record of me at another school, but still..."
Elena frowned, considering. "We'll see what we can do about getting rid of any online articles like that. That it had a photo of you, even if it was an older one, is unacceptable." She shook her head, muttering to herself, "Headquarters will be hearing from me." She refocused on Gabriella. "You'll have to keep an eye out for miss Evans, though I'm confident in your ability to handle her."
Hearing that lifted her spirits a bit. It was always nice when someone who knew what they were doing expressed a vote of confidence in her. "Thank you. So... What's for dinner?"
"That depends."
She raised an eyebrow. "On?"
Elena smiled. "Whether you're in the mood for pizza or Chinese."
They'd gone with pizza, in the end, and no more had been said about her detention. Finding a subject of conversation with Elena was never the easiest thing in the world for her. Not that she didn't like talking to the woman, but when she refused to discuss anything PPP-related, she never went into details about her cover, and nothing (else) exciting had gone on at school, it left Gabriella at a loss.
That refusal was especially maddening when, like that night, she'd been thinking about her homeland, and wondering what was going on there now, and what - if any - progress was being made in ousting the general.
They'd instead watched the news while eating, and Gabriella had retreated to her room immediately afterward.
Day two at her new school was going a bit more smoothly. Granted, it was only homeroom, but she felt far more positive about it today. Not just because she knew Troy was there, but because it wasn't the first day. She didn't enjoy being the 'new girl'.
And Troy was there.
She couldn't quite manage to wipe what she felt must have been a goofy smile from her face even as Miss Darbus started up. "I expect we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, people, correct? If not, we have some dressing rooms that need painting."
She didn't know about everyone else, but she had. She'd made certain that her phone was set on vibrate before she'd even left the house.
"Now, a few announcements," Darbus continued. "This morning during free period will be your chance for the musicale auditions, both single and pairs. I will be in the theater until noon for those of you bold enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit."
It was just as well she'd been making an effort to be more serious just then, as that would have noticably dimmed her smile. Not that Miss Darbus was holding auditions that day, but that...
...she wanted to do it.
She was rather startled to realize that there was a part of her that very much wanted to try out. It was exactly what she shouldn't do if she wanted to avoid attracting attention to herself, it would place her in front of an audience if she got the part - an audience in a darkened auditorium where anyone could potentially lurk - and it would go against what she'd told Taylor yesterday afternoon, but...
She wanted to sing.
She was playing a part every day of her life, wasn't she? She could play a character in a musical easily. And as much as she hated to admit it, as much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise, there was another part of her - a smaller part, but it was still there - that wanted people to pay attention to her. Not in the way that Sharpay did, but, well, she was a princess. She'd grown up accustomed to being watched, being loved. She hadn't always been comfortable with having so much attention focused on her, but something felt horribly off-kilter when she was trying to be invisible. And besides, if she wanted to make any real, positive changes at this school, she needed people to listen to her, which meant she'd need the kind of power that came with being one of the 'popular kids'.
As for Taylor... Well, if she tried out for the play and refused to participate in the scholastic decathlon, she'd hurt the girl's feelings, no question. So, the only way to avoid that - and avoid raising any unwanted questions - would be to take part in that, too.
Could she even do both? Possibly. It might even be the kind of challenge she'd been missing.
She was startled when the bell rang, interrupting Miss Darbus in the middle of a discussion of Shakespeare. She got to her feet, almost forgot to aim another smile at Troy - not really noticing how distracted he himself was - and headed off to class. She did her best to pay attention to her surroundings, as her schedule wasn't exactly the same as it had been the day before, but in the back of her mind, her thoughts kept turning back to the musical.
She'd at least go to the audition, she finally decided. She'd get a good look at what went on, see if it really appealed to her, who her potential castmates might be, and what her competition looked like. After all, just because she wanted the part, there was no guarantee she'd get it, and if there was no chance, there was no need to expose any of the hidden parts of herself to the school.
When her free period finally came along, however, she didn't head right into the auditorium. First, she circled it, checking on every possible access point. If she got the part, she'd want to set up some kind of alarm system so that she'd know if anyone, authorized or not, used one of them. Next, she snuck in, mostly ignoring what was going on up on stage - though she couldn't help but note that her concerns about competition thusfar seemed entirely unfounded - as she tried to identify every possible spot where someone could hide, yet have a clear line-of-sight on the stage. She felt a fierce pang of longing and sadness - the royal guards had always been so good at this sort of thing - but ruthlessly shoved it back down. She could mourn (again) later, if need be. She knew from experience that if she let herself start crying now, she wouldn't be able to stop until well after free period was over.
It was understandably difficult for the PPP to find any psychiatrists to send her to.
During her 'security sweep', she noticed something... odd. Namely, a cart full of cleaning supplies that seemed to be moving of its own accord. Stomach clenching even as she told herself it couldn't have anything to do with her, she cautiously moved closer to investigate. Wait, was that...? She exhaled quietly, tension easing out of her body even as a smile crept onto her face. Sure enough, it was indeed Troy hiding behind that cart. Feeling much more at ease now, she quietly moved over to him. "Hey!"
It wasn't very nice of her, but she couldn't help but grin at his sudden jump. "So, you decided to sign up for something?"
"Uh... No. You?"
"No," she admitted. She still hadn't made a decision one way or another. At least she didn't seem to be the only one having that kind of trouble. "Um... why are you hiding behind a mop?" He hesitated, looking sheepish, and she answered her own question. "Your friends don't know you're here, right?"
"Right."
That was going to have to be addressed. After all, if he got the part, his friends were going to catch on. She was distracted from her thoughts by the realization that, although the pianist was playing the intro music again, no one was singing. She looked at the stage to see the next auditioner standing there, seemingly paralyzed by stage fright. You mean the same kind that you supposedly have? a voice in the back of her mind asked snidely, but she shushed it.
"Thank you," she heard Darbus say dismissively. "Next." The girl literally fled from the stage.
"Miss Darbus is a little... harsh," Troy voiced.
"The Wildcat superstar's afraid?" Some incredulity crept into the question.
"No!" Troy protested. "I'm not afraid, I..." He hesitated. "I'm just... scared."
"Me too... usually." It didn't even occur to her how many ways that statement could be taken, or that it might give away more then she wanted it to.
Miss Darbus then announced the pairs auditions - or audition, rather, since it seemed only Sharpay and Ryan had signed up for it - and they both ducked behind the mops.
Well, at least she had company, now.
Once all attention was focused on the stage, they crept over to the back row of seats and sat down, making sure to stay low. The version of the song that the Evans twins performed was more happy and upbeat then any of the others' had been, and it didn't quite seem to fit - and definitely wasn't making the pianist happy - but... they were good.
Very good.
After they'd finished - and earned a round of applause, no less - she followed Troy as he snuck out. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she was almost frozen with indecision. Getting the part wouldn't be easy, now, but she still believed that she - no, they - could do it, with some work. Some very attention-attracting work, which neither of them would be happy about.
She could deal with it, though, if she had to. She thought Troy could, too, but... Did he have to?
"Any last-minute sign-ups?" Miss Darbus called.
That seemed to jolt Troy out of his stupor. "We should go," he whispered.
She disagreed.
"No? Good. Done."
Gabriella then nearly sent Troy into cardiac arrest by slipping around the corner and announcing, "I'd like to audition, Miss Darbus."
"Timeliness means something in the world of theater, young lady," Darbus told her sternly. "The individual auditions are long over and there are simply no other pairs."
"I'll sing with her." And those four words really shouldn't have made her so happy, she knew. But they did.
Miss Darbus was, understandably surprised by this turn of events. "Troy Bolton? Where is your sports posse or whatever it's called?"
To his credit, Troy barely even seemed phased by her inability to figure out such a basic term. "Team," he corrected.
"Ah." Darbus seemed equally unruffled. Evidently, that sort of thing realy did happen all the time.
"But I'm here alone. Actually, I'm here to sing with her." Really, why was that making the butterflies in her stomach swarm the way they were?
"Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously here at East High," Darbus told them. "I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over." She began heading for the exit.
"She has an amazing voice," Troy protested. She should have said something about his own, she knew, but the irony of the current events - she'd finally gotten up the courage to audition, even dragged a reluctant Troy out into the spotlight with her, only to be denied permission to even try out? - was just a bit too much for her.
"Perhaps the next musicale," Miss Darbus suggested. With that, she swept out of the auditorium in her typical dramatic fashion. Troy and Gabriella were left standing there uncertainly... right up until the pianist, whom Gabriella had almost forgotten about, tripped and sent papers flying everywhere. Relieved to have something concrete to focus on, they quickly moved up on stage to help her pick them up. The girl watched them warily, as if suspecting some kind of trap, and Gabriella inwardly frowned. She knew Troy well enough to know that he wouldn't ever have done anything to inspire such behavior, so what was the cause?
"So, you're a composer?" Troy asked.
The girl... said nothing.
"You wrote the song Ryan and Sharpay just sang?"
More nothing.
"And the entire show?"
She still didn't say anything, but at least this time she managed a nod.
"Well, that's really cool. I can't wait to hear the rest of the show," he said as he helped her to her feet. "So, why are you so afraid of Ryan and Sharpay? I mean, it is your show."
"It is?" As nice as it was to finally hear the girl say something... She actually needed to ask if the play she had written was hers?
Gabriella decided she would have to have a polite word with Sharpay at some point.
"Isn't the composer of a show kind of like the playmaker in basketball?"
"Playmaker?"
Having never heard that particular terminology herself, Gabriella merely shrugged when the girl looked at her.
"The one who makes everyone else look good," Troy explained. "Without you there is no show. You're the playmaker here, Kelsi."
"I am?" Kelsi smiled shyly.
As far as Gabriella was concerned, this cemented Troy as a nice guy. And he'd even managed to clue her into the girl's name, saving her from having to ask, and potentially hurt her feelings by implying she was too unimportant to bother learning her name.
"Do you wanna hear how the duet's supposed to sound?" Kelsi asked them, moving to sit down at the piano again. Giving Troy her warmest smile, Gabriella followed her.
The as-written song was slower and sounded much sweeter. Not that the version Sharpay and Ryan had done had been bad, exactly, but this just seemed... more appropriate.
"It's hard to believe that I couldn't see," Troy sang softly. Gabriella studied the lyrics, doing her best to memorize them as quickly as she could. "You were always there beside me."
"Thought I was alone with no one to hold," she chimed in, then she and Troy sang together. Definitely an improvement over Sharpay's version, as far as she was concerned.
"But you were always right beside me
This feeling's like no other
I want you to know
That I've never had someone that knows me like you do
The way you do
And I've never had someone as good for me as you
No one like you
So lonely before I finally found
What I've been looking for
Ooh-ooh-ooh"
"Wow. That's nice," Troy said. Before Gabriella or Kelsi could say anything, however, someone else spoke up.
"Bolton, Montez - you have a callback." They performed the first simultaneous three-way double-take upon seeing that yes, that was, indeed, Miss Darbus. "Kelsi, give them the duet from the second act," she continued. "Work on it with them."
"All right," Kelsi agreed excitedly. "If you guys wanna rehearse, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and even sometimes during biology class, You can come and rehearse anytime, Or come to my house for breakfast, I have a piano, we can rehearse there, After school, before school - whatever works, After basketball class..." As Gabriella happily began making rehersal plans with her, she didn't quite notice that Troy didn't exactly seem to share their enthusiasm.
"What?"
Disclaimer: I (still) don't own either High School Musical or Princess Protection Program, as I am not - nor do I work for - the Disney corporation. I wouldn't mind doing so, though. Florida has much warmer weather then Massachusetts. (Not a fan of winter.)
Also, I feel I should address just when this takes place. The HSM chronology can be a bit confusing, really. The first movie came out in 2006, while the second, the events of which took place only months later, came out in 2007. HSM 3 came out in 2008, and starts with the basketball championship game. Since that would be a year after HSM 1 ended, does that mean the events of that movie take place during early 2007? Well... no. Not in this story, anyway. Due to some story purposes, particularly in the area of technology, it will instead be early 2010. (This has the happy side effect of making it a bit more believable for Taylor and Gabriella to have done what they did during the multi-competition day, as not only would they have more advanced toys to play with, the school would be more technologically integrated. Because, frankly, for 2006, that was, well, kind of ridiculous.) Senior Year will be 2011.
When would this mean the events of PPP take place, you ask?
Maybe you'll find out someday. *mysterious smile*
Sadly, Troy had never returned after the coach had come to retrieve him and Chad. She hadn't gone looking for him, not wanting to cause any further disruption.
"We've never made it past the first round in the Scholastic Decathalon. You could be our answered prayer."
Part of her wished she had.
"I'm focusing on my studies this semester, and helping my mom get the new house organized. Maybe next year." She'd been surprised to find that Taylor's bookbag looked more like a piece of luggage - complete with handle and wheels - though it spoke volumes about her commitment to her education that she would need such a thing to transport her books. It made Gabriella feel all the more guilty about turning her down... or trying to turn her down, anyway. She quickly - and not terribly subtly - changed the subject to something she was more interested in. "But what do you know about Troy Bolton?"
"Troy? Hmm." Taylor seemed somewhat bemused by this conversational turn. "I'm not an expert on that particular sub-species," she remarked as they moved up a small set of stairs. Leading them toward a group of cheerleaders, she continued, "However, unless you speak cheerleader, as in, 'Oh, my gosh! Isn't Troy Bolton just the hottie super-bum?'"
Gabriella barely supressed a laugh. The what? The cheerleaders giggled and agreed with this assessment - it must have been a good thing, then - and paid them little attention as Taylor took her hand and lead her away from them. Once they were far enough away, Taylor drew them to a halt and chuckled as she asked, "See what I mean?"
"I guess I don't know how to speak cheerleader," Gabriella conceeded. And as much as she enjoyed learning, that was one language she had no intention of picking up.
"We exist in an alternate universe to Troy the basketball boy," Taylor explained.
She knew she should probably just let it go - Troy presumably knew how the student body viewed him, and his reaction to the idea that they might learn he sang suggested he didn't want that view to change - but she couldn't. "Have you tried to get to know him?"
"Watch how it works tomorrow when you have lunch with us," Taylor told her. "Unless you'd rather sit with the cheerleaders and discuss firm nail beds."
"My nail beds are history," she admitted, holding up her hands as proof. Partly that had been deliberate - having such short, unadorned fingernails was one more little detail that helped her distance herself from her 'royal image' - and partly it was a side effect of the self-defense lessons she'd insisted Elena give her.
Taylor did the same. "Sister!" she exclaimed, sharing a giggle with Gabriella before they resumed heading for the late bus.
Gabriella did her best to steer the subject away from the scholastic decathalon as they headed home. The conversation touched on her history of changing schools, though she did her best to talk more about the places she'd been, rather then the reason she'd had to leave them. Taylor believed her story about her mother's job, of course, but it still made her uncomfortable. She sensed Taylor was a bit jealous that she was so well traveled, though her genuine sadness at having to leave whatever friends she might have made kept the other girl from actually saying anything.
In return, Gabriella asked about living in Albuquerque, and about the people at East High. Life in Albuquerque was not terribly exciting, she was told, which she'd kind of already known, but it was nice to have that confirmed. Not that she could tell Taylor that this was a good thing. She mostly learned about the members of the scholastic decathalon team and some of the more academically inclined students, but that was better then nothing. She could ask Troy about the others, she decided.
The thought made her smile.
As much as she was enjoying making a new friend - even one who was still determined to get her to change her mind and join the scholastic decathalon team - it was probably fortunate that Taylor's stop came as soon as it did. Taylor had been slowly but surely wearing down her resistance, and combined with her stated dislike of Troy - and the rest of the jocks, presumably - Gabriella wanted some time away from her to get centered, and to make a plan on how to deal with her.
Ordinarily, she would have pulled out a book and spent the rest of the ride reading, but not here. Not now. She knew, intellectually, that she was in no danger. Still, she was surrounded by strangers, in an entirely new place. She kept a perfectly pleasant expression on her face - not smiling, but polite and friendly, without displaying any particular interest in any one thing - that she and her siblings had dubbed "Royal Expression #7" and let her gaze wander. She observed her fellow students, she took in the details of Albuquerque as it passed by. The route was, of course, different then the one she'd taken to school that morning, but comparing what she saw to her mental map of the town - she hadn't memorized it, yet, but she was familiar enough to mostly figure out where she was - she was able to tell when her stop was coming, and was on her feet even as the bus slowed to a halt.
She'd learned the hard way that, as rude as it seemed to her, thanking the bus driver for the ride was not something that anyone did in American schools, public or private. She'd settled instead on giving them a sunny smile as she got off the bus. Since her smiling was hardly an uncommon sight, no one ever said anything.
Elena, unsurprisingly, wasn't there waiting for her. She was never quite sure what Elena actually did during the day - her cover was as an insurance agent this time, while last time she'd (supposedly) worked at a bank, and before that she'd been a real estate agent. At least, as far as anyone who asked knew. While she was certain Elena could likely function in any of those jobs - or any of the others - being well-trained enough and convincing enough to do all of them seemed a bit... unlikely. And while she believed the PPP could write her any number of convincing resumes, and make certain that they were accepted as fact, the jobs chosen all required a huge investment of time and focus. After all, they were selected because people would believe that Elena (and thus Gabriella, as well) would have to move around all the time because of whatever job she claimed to have just then. Elena was her protector; actually doing any of those jobs would interfere with that.
And no one ever quite managed to meet any of her co-workers.
Fortunately, as long as Gabriella managed to convey some measure of sullen resentment toward her "mother's" job - difficult, as she hardly felt any such thing toward Elena in any fashion, but she was a good enough actress to pull it off - any friends she might have made tended to leave the subject alone, and no one else really cared enough to ask. (Well, no one but any snobby "princesses" or bullies, but after the training she'd received in dealing with politicians and visiting dignitaries, handling them was child's play.) As long as Elena showed up at any required parent-teacher meetings or, if Gabriella couldn't manage to avoid the academic spotlight, any competitions, no one in the teaching staff said a word.
Settling down on her bed, she started on her homework while she waited. It was hardly difficult - the American educational system didn't hold their students up to the same high standards her tutors had, she'd often noted with dismay - and her mind couldn't help but wander a bit as she worked. Textbooks, notebooks, worksheets... It really was such a waste of paper. Costa Paraíso, being a not-TOO-large tropical island, really had nothing in the way of a lumber industry. As such, any related product - paper, wooden furniture, even firewood - was all imported. Due to the cost of that, as well as more environmentally friendly reasons, her father hadn't had any real difficulty pushing for state-of-the-art recycling programs, as well as switching to electronic filing wherever possible. While she could appreciate that some people might prefer working with hardcopy, and that having physical backups of certain documents could be necessary, this just seemed so... wasteful.
Yes, she herself could often be found with a physical book, but that was mostly because she had no alternative. E-book readers were becoming more and more common these days, but they were too expensive to bring with her to most of the places she went. Elena was also wary of the registration process with most of the popular brands.
However, as soon as it came out, she was getting a Kindle 3G (with Wi-Fi, thank you very much). If Elena protested, she'd just argue that it would help her establish her cover further.
The teachers hadn't assigned much homework on the first day back, and even only half-paying attention, she finished it in short order. That out of the way, she sat back and started trying to figure out what would be needed to make the school a bit more tree-friendly. Ideally, if it were up to her, she'd simply install electronic workstations for all the students in every classroom. Integrate them into the desks, maybe. Internet access would have to be limited, of course - she knew enough about American students by now to know unlimited access would be horribly abused - but the ability to email homework assignments to teachers or access the day's lessons even while out sick would be fantastic.
At least, it would to her. Her fellow students, however, didn't exactly share her work ethic.
It wouldn't happen, of course. All the good planning in the world couldn't make the budget magically expand enough to cover something so incredibly expensive. She might have more luck with recycling, though. And maybe, she thought, someone could set up some kind of web service that would send students text messages about homework assignments, or reminders about upcoming exams. Maybe she could mention the subject to Taylor at some point, if she continued spending time with the other girl.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly fell over in surprise when someone abruptly cleared their throat. She looked up to see Elena standing there. "When did you get home?" It was not the kind of greeting her station dictated she give to anyone, let alone her caregiver, but protocol - and good manners - also called for one to announce oneself and wait for invitation before entering a princess's bedchambers.
In light of her recent thoughts, even if it was properly American, such rudeness felt even more grating then usual.
"A little while ago." Elena's expression was fairly neutral. "What's this I hear about a detention?"
Gabriella didn't bother asking how she knew about that. The school could have called her... but she was willing to bet that wasn't how the agent had found out. "My cell phone rang in home room. As a result, myself and five other people were detained after school."
Elena blinked. "It... rang?"
Evidently whatever information gathering method she was using wasn't entirely thorough. "Yes. No one did anything more then look at our phones, and some only objected or made a snide remark aimed at another student, but that was sufficient." She shrugged. "In retrospect, I suppose I should have set my phone to 'vibrate'. I'll make certain to correct that in the future." Turning her phone off was out of the question. Part of the reason she had it at all was so that Elena could reach her in case of emergency. Thankfully, that had never actually happened... yet.
"Who was calling you? No one has your number," Elena pointed out warily. She got a new number - sometimes a new phone entirely - every time they moved. Unfortunately, part of the PPP's protocol when they relocated her was that she completely sever all ties with everyone she'd gotten to know duing her time there. As a result, as far as her old friends were concerned, she'd completely dropped off the face of the Earth. She felt bad about that, but there was nothing she could do.
She smiled. "Except for Troy," she corrected. Her smile widened. "He's in my class."
Elena placed the name quickly enough - Gabriella had, naturally, told her all about what had happened at the teen party - and she didn't seem terribly surprised... or happy. She wasn't upset, either, at least not yet. Hopefully, it would stay that way.
Though on the subject of things that would upset her... "There is one other thing, though," Gabriella said with a sigh, losing her smile. She took a breath, then told Elena about how easily Sharpay had picked up on part of her trail. "I know even my cover has me moving around a lot," she finished, "so it wouldn't be unreasonable to find a record of me at another school, but still..."
Elena frowned, considering. "We'll see what we can do about getting rid of any online articles like that. That it had a photo of you, even if it was an older one, is unacceptable." She shook her head, muttering to herself, "Headquarters will be hearing from me." She refocused on Gabriella. "You'll have to keep an eye out for miss Evans, though I'm confident in your ability to handle her."
Hearing that lifted her spirits a bit. It was always nice when someone who knew what they were doing expressed a vote of confidence in her. "Thank you. So... What's for dinner?"
"That depends."
She raised an eyebrow. "On?"
Elena smiled. "Whether you're in the mood for pizza or Chinese."
They'd gone with pizza, in the end, and no more had been said about her detention. Finding a subject of conversation with Elena was never the easiest thing in the world for her. Not that she didn't like talking to the woman, but when she refused to discuss anything PPP-related, she never went into details about her cover, and nothing (else) exciting had gone on at school, it left Gabriella at a loss.
That refusal was especially maddening when, like that night, she'd been thinking about her homeland, and wondering what was going on there now, and what - if any - progress was being made in ousting the general.
They'd instead watched the news while eating, and Gabriella had retreated to her room immediately afterward.
Day two at her new school was going a bit more smoothly. Granted, it was only homeroom, but she felt far more positive about it today. Not just because she knew Troy was there, but because it wasn't the first day. She didn't enjoy being the 'new girl'.
And Troy was there.
She couldn't quite manage to wipe what she felt must have been a goofy smile from her face even as Miss Darbus started up. "I expect we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, people, correct? If not, we have some dressing rooms that need painting."
She didn't know about everyone else, but she had. She'd made certain that her phone was set on vibrate before she'd even left the house.
"Now, a few announcements," Darbus continued. "This morning during free period will be your chance for the musicale auditions, both single and pairs. I will be in the theater until noon for those of you bold enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit."
It was just as well she'd been making an effort to be more serious just then, as that would have noticably dimmed her smile. Not that Miss Darbus was holding auditions that day, but that...
...she wanted to do it.
She was rather startled to realize that there was a part of her that very much wanted to try out. It was exactly what she shouldn't do if she wanted to avoid attracting attention to herself, it would place her in front of an audience if she got the part - an audience in a darkened auditorium where anyone could potentially lurk - and it would go against what she'd told Taylor yesterday afternoon, but...
She wanted to sing.
She was playing a part every day of her life, wasn't she? She could play a character in a musical easily. And as much as she hated to admit it, as much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise, there was another part of her - a smaller part, but it was still there - that wanted people to pay attention to her. Not in the way that Sharpay did, but, well, she was a princess. She'd grown up accustomed to being watched, being loved. She hadn't always been comfortable with having so much attention focused on her, but something felt horribly off-kilter when she was trying to be invisible. And besides, if she wanted to make any real, positive changes at this school, she needed people to listen to her, which meant she'd need the kind of power that came with being one of the 'popular kids'.
As for Taylor... Well, if she tried out for the play and refused to participate in the scholastic decathlon, she'd hurt the girl's feelings, no question. So, the only way to avoid that - and avoid raising any unwanted questions - would be to take part in that, too.
Could she even do both? Possibly. It might even be the kind of challenge she'd been missing.
She was startled when the bell rang, interrupting Miss Darbus in the middle of a discussion of Shakespeare. She got to her feet, almost forgot to aim another smile at Troy - not really noticing how distracted he himself was - and headed off to class. She did her best to pay attention to her surroundings, as her schedule wasn't exactly the same as it had been the day before, but in the back of her mind, her thoughts kept turning back to the musical.
She'd at least go to the audition, she finally decided. She'd get a good look at what went on, see if it really appealed to her, who her potential castmates might be, and what her competition looked like. After all, just because she wanted the part, there was no guarantee she'd get it, and if there was no chance, there was no need to expose any of the hidden parts of herself to the school.
When her free period finally came along, however, she didn't head right into the auditorium. First, she circled it, checking on every possible access point. If she got the part, she'd want to set up some kind of alarm system so that she'd know if anyone, authorized or not, used one of them. Next, she snuck in, mostly ignoring what was going on up on stage - though she couldn't help but note that her concerns about competition thusfar seemed entirely unfounded - as she tried to identify every possible spot where someone could hide, yet have a clear line-of-sight on the stage. She felt a fierce pang of longing and sadness - the royal guards had always been so good at this sort of thing - but ruthlessly shoved it back down. She could mourn (again) later, if need be. She knew from experience that if she let herself start crying now, she wouldn't be able to stop until well after free period was over.
It was understandably difficult for the PPP to find any psychiatrists to send her to.
During her 'security sweep', she noticed something... odd. Namely, a cart full of cleaning supplies that seemed to be moving of its own accord. Stomach clenching even as she told herself it couldn't have anything to do with her, she cautiously moved closer to investigate. Wait, was that...? She exhaled quietly, tension easing out of her body even as a smile crept onto her face. Sure enough, it was indeed Troy hiding behind that cart. Feeling much more at ease now, she quietly moved over to him. "Hey!"
It wasn't very nice of her, but she couldn't help but grin at his sudden jump. "So, you decided to sign up for something?"
"Uh... No. You?"
"No," she admitted. She still hadn't made a decision one way or another. At least she didn't seem to be the only one having that kind of trouble. "Um... why are you hiding behind a mop?" He hesitated, looking sheepish, and she answered her own question. "Your friends don't know you're here, right?"
"Right."
That was going to have to be addressed. After all, if he got the part, his friends were going to catch on. She was distracted from her thoughts by the realization that, although the pianist was playing the intro music again, no one was singing. She looked at the stage to see the next auditioner standing there, seemingly paralyzed by stage fright. You mean the same kind that you supposedly have? a voice in the back of her mind asked snidely, but she shushed it.
"Thank you," she heard Darbus say dismissively. "Next." The girl literally fled from the stage.
"Miss Darbus is a little... harsh," Troy voiced.
"The Wildcat superstar's afraid?" Some incredulity crept into the question.
"No!" Troy protested. "I'm not afraid, I..." He hesitated. "I'm just... scared."
"Me too... usually." It didn't even occur to her how many ways that statement could be taken, or that it might give away more then she wanted it to.
Miss Darbus then announced the pairs auditions - or audition, rather, since it seemed only Sharpay and Ryan had signed up for it - and they both ducked behind the mops.
Well, at least she had company, now.
Once all attention was focused on the stage, they crept over to the back row of seats and sat down, making sure to stay low. The version of the song that the Evans twins performed was more happy and upbeat then any of the others' had been, and it didn't quite seem to fit - and definitely wasn't making the pianist happy - but... they were good.
Very good.
After they'd finished - and earned a round of applause, no less - she followed Troy as he snuck out. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she was almost frozen with indecision. Getting the part wouldn't be easy, now, but she still believed that she - no, they - could do it, with some work. Some very attention-attracting work, which neither of them would be happy about.
She could deal with it, though, if she had to. She thought Troy could, too, but... Did he have to?
"Any last-minute sign-ups?" Miss Darbus called.
That seemed to jolt Troy out of his stupor. "We should go," he whispered.
She disagreed.
"No? Good. Done."
Gabriella then nearly sent Troy into cardiac arrest by slipping around the corner and announcing, "I'd like to audition, Miss Darbus."
"Timeliness means something in the world of theater, young lady," Darbus told her sternly. "The individual auditions are long over and there are simply no other pairs."
"I'll sing with her." And those four words really shouldn't have made her so happy, she knew. But they did.
Miss Darbus was, understandably surprised by this turn of events. "Troy Bolton? Where is your sports posse or whatever it's called?"
To his credit, Troy barely even seemed phased by her inability to figure out such a basic term. "Team," he corrected.
"Ah." Darbus seemed equally unruffled. Evidently, that sort of thing realy did happen all the time.
"But I'm here alone. Actually, I'm here to sing with her." Really, why was that making the butterflies in her stomach swarm the way they were?
"Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously here at East High," Darbus told them. "I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over." She began heading for the exit.
"She has an amazing voice," Troy protested. She should have said something about his own, she knew, but the irony of the current events - she'd finally gotten up the courage to audition, even dragged a reluctant Troy out into the spotlight with her, only to be denied permission to even try out? - was just a bit too much for her.
"Perhaps the next musicale," Miss Darbus suggested. With that, she swept out of the auditorium in her typical dramatic fashion. Troy and Gabriella were left standing there uncertainly... right up until the pianist, whom Gabriella had almost forgotten about, tripped and sent papers flying everywhere. Relieved to have something concrete to focus on, they quickly moved up on stage to help her pick them up. The girl watched them warily, as if suspecting some kind of trap, and Gabriella inwardly frowned. She knew Troy well enough to know that he wouldn't ever have done anything to inspire such behavior, so what was the cause?
"So, you're a composer?" Troy asked.
The girl... said nothing.
"You wrote the song Ryan and Sharpay just sang?"
More nothing.
"And the entire show?"
She still didn't say anything, but at least this time she managed a nod.
"Well, that's really cool. I can't wait to hear the rest of the show," he said as he helped her to her feet. "So, why are you so afraid of Ryan and Sharpay? I mean, it is your show."
"It is?" As nice as it was to finally hear the girl say something... She actually needed to ask if the play she had written was hers?
Gabriella decided she would have to have a polite word with Sharpay at some point.
"Isn't the composer of a show kind of like the playmaker in basketball?"
"Playmaker?"
Having never heard that particular terminology herself, Gabriella merely shrugged when the girl looked at her.
"The one who makes everyone else look good," Troy explained. "Without you there is no show. You're the playmaker here, Kelsi."
"I am?" Kelsi smiled shyly.
As far as Gabriella was concerned, this cemented Troy as a nice guy. And he'd even managed to clue her into the girl's name, saving her from having to ask, and potentially hurt her feelings by implying she was too unimportant to bother learning her name.
"Do you wanna hear how the duet's supposed to sound?" Kelsi asked them, moving to sit down at the piano again. Giving Troy her warmest smile, Gabriella followed her.
The as-written song was slower and sounded much sweeter. Not that the version Sharpay and Ryan had done had been bad, exactly, but this just seemed... more appropriate.
"It's hard to believe that I couldn't see," Troy sang softly. Gabriella studied the lyrics, doing her best to memorize them as quickly as she could. "You were always there beside me."
"Thought I was alone with no one to hold," she chimed in, then she and Troy sang together. Definitely an improvement over Sharpay's version, as far as she was concerned.
"But you were always right beside me
This feeling's like no other
I want you to know
That I've never had someone that knows me like you do
The way you do
And I've never had someone as good for me as you
No one like you
So lonely before I finally found
What I've been looking for
Ooh-ooh-ooh"
"Wow. That's nice," Troy said. Before Gabriella or Kelsi could say anything, however, someone else spoke up.
"Bolton, Montez - you have a callback." They performed the first simultaneous three-way double-take upon seeing that yes, that was, indeed, Miss Darbus. "Kelsi, give them the duet from the second act," she continued. "Work on it with them."
"All right," Kelsi agreed excitedly. "If you guys wanna rehearse, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and even sometimes during biology class, You can come and rehearse anytime, Or come to my house for breakfast, I have a piano, we can rehearse there, After school, before school - whatever works, After basketball class..." As Gabriella happily began making rehersal plans with her, she didn't quite notice that Troy didn't exactly seem to share their enthusiasm.
"What?"