Troy Bolton ♪ Faking Smiles

08 | friendly suspicion

"Come on, it couldn't have been
that bad." Gabriella urges, playing with her tousled curly hair.

"It was. I don't know why, but it just didn't seem right." I respond while trying to look busy fidgeting with my calculator.

"You know, I can tell you're trying to look occupied so you can steer clear
of further questioning." She postulates.

I glance at her face to see a sly smile spread across her cheeks. "Sometimes I wish you couldn't read me so well." I admit, zipping my calculator back into my backpack.

"If I'm being completely honest, you're not the easiest person to understand. Heck, half the time I can't tell if you actually like Troy or not." She playfully explains while opening up her math binder and placing it upon her desk, just in time for Troy to walk into class.

His eyes sweep over my face, briefly, in just enough time for me to want more. He intenionally averts my gaze and takes a seat next to Gabriella, who sits adjacent to me.

"Hey Troy." She babbles, loosing all concentration on the math problem on the board, which never happened before.

"Hey," I whisper. "Gab.
Why are you talking to him?"

"I can still be nice to him, right?" She replies, utter sweetness in her voice.

I was at a total loss for words, which rarely ever happens. I had an epiphany, although I should've realized it earlier. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was going on here.

As the bell rang to dismiss class,
I tried to reclaim my feelings and dart out of class. Avoiding Gabriella's calls for me to "wait up" for me, I quickly unpack my books and drive straight home.

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Blank expressions encase my
parents feelings, until they voice
their opinions.

"Although I'm happy you finally
decided to break your shell, you
should be using that time to study."
My mother suggests, tapping her
finger on her thigh.

"I agree with your mom. Valedictorian
won't be easy to accomplish if you run around town, singing on open mic nights." My father points out, 
against my opposition.

"But dad, I've already got the grades.
Please, please let me do this. I wrote a song and everything, and it's not just a song that means nothing to me. Mom, please you have to let me go." I beg.

I am met with a quizzical expression from her, before she looks at my father in agreement. "Please go to your room and focus on your school work while your father and I discuss this further."

As expected. "Can't you guys just agree with me once? This is the first time I've been open about my feelings in awhile, and you're taking that away from me. I need to prove to myself and others that I'm not going to explode one day from keeping all of this stuff in." I accuse, still not getting the point across to them. "You know what? I give up."

"Amelia, the only way you prove yourself is through your high grades and ivy league school acceptance, not your outlandish ideas of songwriting."

A pause fills the air of angst and frustration, leaving me to justify my feelings. "Wow, that actually hit a nerve." Although I didn't like it, it has struck something within me.

I run upstairs to my bedroom and scramble for a pen and paper. Words flow from my mind onto the paper, expressing emotions only Taylor Swift could write.

Now it's time for the real challenge or performing it at open mic night, which happens to be in an hour.

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IM SORRY THESE UPDATES ARE ALWAYS SO SHORT AND SPARSE!!!!!!

anyway, i really enjoyed writing about amelia's character development and I hope you enjoy reading it.