HSM fic
Title: So this is Rejection
Rating: K+ (PG)
Disclaimer: High School Musical, all characters, places, and related terms belong to Walt Disney Pictures.
Summary: Ranting, earnest, joyful, evaded, confused - Troy’s ignorant of negation. What does this spell?
~~~
“Wildcats!” I yell with my teammates a last time as they finally lower me from their shoulders. I accept the high fives offered as I work my way through the crowd of red and white. Once I am back inside the school and the doors close behind me, my enormous grin vanishes.
Today is not turning out the way I had hoped. I saw Gabriella in homeroom but didn’t have the chance to speak with her; I want to discuss the callbacks with her. I have not seen her since then. But I could have missed her, though: Chad, Zeke, and Jason have been shadowing me all morning, reminding me again and again about some special team meeting at 12:05 in the locker room. I’ve assured them (again and again) that I would be there, though I’d miss at least part of lunch and possibly talking with Gabriella about the callbacks.
The “special team meeting” turned out to be a joint session conducted by the team to make me feel guilty about wanting to get involved with the musical when the championship is just ’round the corner. They gave me a brief history lesson about past Wildcat legends and team captains - including my dad - all who had helped their teams win the championship. And the reason they had succeeded: they had never taken their focus off the goal.
It was probably my still being upset about what had happened between Dad and Gabriella yesterday - and now my teammates all were rallying against me about being in the musical, afraid we’ll lose at the championship if I do it - that pushed me over the edge. I lashed back at them, hurt and angry, saying I thought they were my friends and that they did not know me if they doubted I would give 110% of my guts in the game on Friday; I’ll be ready and focused. We’d lose and win together.
Chad expressed some doubts at my sincerity, mentioning “the girl” (just like Dad) and “the singing.” I had quickly objected, saying that Gabriella was just a girl; neither she nor the musical were important to me. They were to help calm my nerves. I would forget about them. I was for the team - we would go and get that championship. When my rant ended, I had demanded if everybody was happy. I had been met with a short silence; then wild cheering and shouts broke out among the team.
While I had followed my excited teammates outside where some sort of rally was taking place, a knot had formed in the pit of my stomach. All those things I’d said about the musical and Gabriella were untrue. Both are very important to me, and I am not about to give either one up. I only said all that in an attempt to satisfy the guys and get them off my back. The rant worked brilliantly, and now things were good again, basketball-wise. But a wave of guilt had come over me. I did not like tearing Gabriella down, even though I had not been serious. I hoped that she would not hear about what I’d said in the locker room.
Now I have escaped everyone and am back inside. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I discover it is ten minutes until next period. That is enough time for me to try to find Gabriella before going to class. I decide to check her locker first before going to the cafeteria.
I’m only halfway down the hallway when I spot Gabriella through the crowd, opening her locker. All thoughts about the “meeting,” basketball, the championship, and my dad disappear. The knot loosens in my stomach, my step lightens, and a huge grin spreads across my face as I stride towards her. Reaching her, I snap my fingers and lean my hand on the locker next to hers.
“Hey, how ya doing?” I ask cheerfully, attempting to ignore the way my heartbeat quickens - which always happens when I’m around Gabriella.
She does not give an answer or look at me; her hair nearly completely hides her face from my view. Slowly she takes a notebook from her locker. My smile fades, and slight puzzlement enters my eyes. Deciding for the moment not to ponder on her unusual behavior, I say:
“Look, there’s something I want to talk with you about.” My tone is light.
Before I can get another word out, Gabriella quickly turns toward me, her expression calm and serious. She hugs her notebook to her chest. What she says totally throws me off balance.
“And here it is. I know what it's like to carry a loop with your friends. I get it. You've got your boys, Troy. It's okay. So we're good.” She gives me a small smile that is unlike the smiles she has given me in the past, when her whole face would brighten up and her eyes twinkle.
“Good about what?” I ask, attempting to return the gesture to cover up my vast growing confusion. What the heck does she mean? “I was going to talk to you about the final callbacks.” My smile drops and I frown slightly.
“I don't wanna do the callbacks either,” Gabriella replies quickly.
I almost take a step back, stunned by her words. What?! I blink at her, the only visible sign of my shock.
“Who are we trying to kid? You've got your team, and now I've got mine,” she goes on, looking past me, her shoulders sagging a little.
I can only gaze at her, unable to believe what I’m hearing, lacking the ability to speak. I just watch and listen, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Gabriella looks at me again, and I search her eyes for an answer.
“I'll do the Scholastic Decathlon, and you win the championship. It's where we belong.”
Gabriella plucks some sheet music from the shelf in her locker and hands it to me. Sparing the thing I’m handed a quick glance, I realize with a sinking feeling it is the song for the audition: “Breaking Free.” Our gazes lock again: hers calm, mine bewildered.
“Go, Wildcats,” the girl whispers.
I find my tongue. “But I…,” is all I can manage, spreading my arms in a questioning gesture. My mind is whirling and going into orbit.
Gabriella closes her locker. “Me neither,” she seems to agree with me (about what?) and walks by me without a goodbye, as though everything’s over.
I stare at the closed locker for a moment, disbelief mixing with dawning. “Gabriella?” I say turning around to gaze at the retreating girl. She gives no sign of acknowledgment. She walks away from the callback…and me. Soon I lose her in the crowd.
I gaze blankly into space. The weight in my chest intensifies. “You’ve got your team, and now I’ve got mine.” My disbelief is replaced with slow understanding. Gabriella does not want to do the callbacks. And, apparently, she also does not want anything more to do with me because of…what? What have I done to cause this wild unexpected turn of events that has made my day turn from bad to worse?
A horn startles me. A group of Wildcat fans march by, proudly wearing the team colors. This excited group only succeeds in causing me to become more down as I realize what the strange exchange between me and Gabriella all means. After a while, I slowly walk down the hall, my head low.
So this is what rejection feels like. I had experienced something like it two years ago when I had gotten turned down by a cheerleader I had asked out before I landed in the jock group. But what I felt then is nothing compared to the heaviness in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and terrible hurt. I know Gabriella and I are just friends, but that doesn’t lessen the pain, and seriously…well, I’d hoped…
I groan. Why, why, why? I do not know. What did I do? I do not know that either. My secret dreams, woven around a leading part in a musical and a special girl (only now do I realize just how special), are falling apart.
Rapidly blinking against the stinging in my eyes, I do not quicken my pace as the warning bell sounds. Who cares that I’ll be late for class? I am alone, with only broken dreams and rejection for company.
THE END
Rating: K+ (PG)
Disclaimer: High School Musical, all characters, places, and related terms belong to Walt Disney Pictures.
Summary: Ranting, earnest, joyful, evaded, confused - Troy’s ignorant of negation. What does this spell?
~~~
“Wildcats!” I yell with my teammates a last time as they finally lower me from their shoulders. I accept the high fives offered as I work my way through the crowd of red and white. Once I am back inside the school and the doors close behind me, my enormous grin vanishes.
Today is not turning out the way I had hoped. I saw Gabriella in homeroom but didn’t have the chance to speak with her; I want to discuss the callbacks with her. I have not seen her since then. But I could have missed her, though: Chad, Zeke, and Jason have been shadowing me all morning, reminding me again and again about some special team meeting at 12:05 in the locker room. I’ve assured them (again and again) that I would be there, though I’d miss at least part of lunch and possibly talking with Gabriella about the callbacks.
The “special team meeting” turned out to be a joint session conducted by the team to make me feel guilty about wanting to get involved with the musical when the championship is just ’round the corner. They gave me a brief history lesson about past Wildcat legends and team captains - including my dad - all who had helped their teams win the championship. And the reason they had succeeded: they had never taken their focus off the goal.
It was probably my still being upset about what had happened between Dad and Gabriella yesterday - and now my teammates all were rallying against me about being in the musical, afraid we’ll lose at the championship if I do it - that pushed me over the edge. I lashed back at them, hurt and angry, saying I thought they were my friends and that they did not know me if they doubted I would give 110% of my guts in the game on Friday; I’ll be ready and focused. We’d lose and win together.
Chad expressed some doubts at my sincerity, mentioning “the girl” (just like Dad) and “the singing.” I had quickly objected, saying that Gabriella was just a girl; neither she nor the musical were important to me. They were to help calm my nerves. I would forget about them. I was for the team - we would go and get that championship. When my rant ended, I had demanded if everybody was happy. I had been met with a short silence; then wild cheering and shouts broke out among the team.
While I had followed my excited teammates outside where some sort of rally was taking place, a knot had formed in the pit of my stomach. All those things I’d said about the musical and Gabriella were untrue. Both are very important to me, and I am not about to give either one up. I only said all that in an attempt to satisfy the guys and get them off my back. The rant worked brilliantly, and now things were good again, basketball-wise. But a wave of guilt had come over me. I did not like tearing Gabriella down, even though I had not been serious. I hoped that she would not hear about what I’d said in the locker room.
Now I have escaped everyone and am back inside. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I discover it is ten minutes until next period. That is enough time for me to try to find Gabriella before going to class. I decide to check her locker first before going to the cafeteria.
I’m only halfway down the hallway when I spot Gabriella through the crowd, opening her locker. All thoughts about the “meeting,” basketball, the championship, and my dad disappear. The knot loosens in my stomach, my step lightens, and a huge grin spreads across my face as I stride towards her. Reaching her, I snap my fingers and lean my hand on the locker next to hers.
“Hey, how ya doing?” I ask cheerfully, attempting to ignore the way my heartbeat quickens - which always happens when I’m around Gabriella.
She does not give an answer or look at me; her hair nearly completely hides her face from my view. Slowly she takes a notebook from her locker. My smile fades, and slight puzzlement enters my eyes. Deciding for the moment not to ponder on her unusual behavior, I say:
“Look, there’s something I want to talk with you about.” My tone is light.
Before I can get another word out, Gabriella quickly turns toward me, her expression calm and serious. She hugs her notebook to her chest. What she says totally throws me off balance.
“And here it is. I know what it's like to carry a loop with your friends. I get it. You've got your boys, Troy. It's okay. So we're good.” She gives me a small smile that is unlike the smiles she has given me in the past, when her whole face would brighten up and her eyes twinkle.
“Good about what?” I ask, attempting to return the gesture to cover up my vast growing confusion. What the heck does she mean? “I was going to talk to you about the final callbacks.” My smile drops and I frown slightly.
“I don't wanna do the callbacks either,” Gabriella replies quickly.
I almost take a step back, stunned by her words. What?! I blink at her, the only visible sign of my shock.
“Who are we trying to kid? You've got your team, and now I've got mine,” she goes on, looking past me, her shoulders sagging a little.
I can only gaze at her, unable to believe what I’m hearing, lacking the ability to speak. I just watch and listen, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Gabriella looks at me again, and I search her eyes for an answer.
“I'll do the Scholastic Decathlon, and you win the championship. It's where we belong.”
Gabriella plucks some sheet music from the shelf in her locker and hands it to me. Sparing the thing I’m handed a quick glance, I realize with a sinking feeling it is the song for the audition: “Breaking Free.” Our gazes lock again: hers calm, mine bewildered.
“Go, Wildcats,” the girl whispers.
I find my tongue. “But I…,” is all I can manage, spreading my arms in a questioning gesture. My mind is whirling and going into orbit.
Gabriella closes her locker. “Me neither,” she seems to agree with me (about what?) and walks by me without a goodbye, as though everything’s over.
I stare at the closed locker for a moment, disbelief mixing with dawning. “Gabriella?” I say turning around to gaze at the retreating girl. She gives no sign of acknowledgment. She walks away from the callback…and me. Soon I lose her in the crowd.
I gaze blankly into space. The weight in my chest intensifies. “You’ve got your team, and now I’ve got mine.” My disbelief is replaced with slow understanding. Gabriella does not want to do the callbacks. And, apparently, she also does not want anything more to do with me because of…what? What have I done to cause this wild unexpected turn of events that has made my day turn from bad to worse?
A horn startles me. A group of Wildcat fans march by, proudly wearing the team colors. This excited group only succeeds in causing me to become more down as I realize what the strange exchange between me and Gabriella all means. After a while, I slowly walk down the hall, my head low.
So this is what rejection feels like. I had experienced something like it two years ago when I had gotten turned down by a cheerleader I had asked out before I landed in the jock group. But what I felt then is nothing compared to the heaviness in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and terrible hurt. I know Gabriella and I are just friends, but that doesn’t lessen the pain, and seriously…well, I’d hoped…
I groan. Why, why, why? I do not know. What did I do? I do not know that either. My secret dreams, woven around a leading part in a musical and a special girl (only now do I realize just how special), are falling apart.
Rapidly blinking against the stinging in my eyes, I do not quicken my pace as the warning bell sounds. Who cares that I’ll be late for class? I am alone, with only broken dreams and rejection for company.
THE END