High School Musical: The Musical Prequel Novel Read online

  “I thought she had.” Nini lays down the ukulele and stretches out on her bed, facing me. “But she’d just stepped out to call someone. She talked to me in the hall, just before we all left to go to Denny’s.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” I can’t believe she’s kept this quiet for almost twenty-four hours. “There I was feeling sorry for you!”

  “I apologize,” Nini tells me. “Part of me can’t believe it. And I haven’t told anyone—not even my moms. You’re the first person, and you have to promise me you won’t say a word yet.”

  “Sure,” I say, though I’m not sure at all. “Why the big secret? You really wanted this. Look how devastated you were when you thought she had gone.”

  “You’re right. I was—devastated. But then I got distracted. Everything happened so fast. Ricky and I talked, and he told me he loved me.”

  “I know, I know.” Anyone with eyes in their head last night could see that things with Ricky were back on. Even with everyone screeching like banshees at the party, Nini managed to shout in my ear that Ricky had declared his love. About time.

  But now I’m worried. Ricky loves Nini. Nini wants to go to YAC in Denver. But Nini loves Ricky….

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to turn down a place at an exclusive performing-arts conservatory and a launch pad to superstardom just because Ricky Bowen decides he loves you!”

  “Of course not! I don’t want to turn down YAC. I have to talk it all through with my moms, of course, but I think they’ll be supportive. It’s just—Ricky.”

  “And?” I give her my most feminist-fierce stare.

  “I have to find the right time to tell him.” She sits up, clutching at one of her old soft toys for comfort. She always goes for the lion, I can’t help noticing; I have its twin on my own bed at home. We got them after our parents took us to see The Lion King on Ice when we were in sixth grade.

  “You have to tell him soon,” I say. “When are you supposed to start?”

  “After the holidays.”

  “Wait—these holidays? Like, she wants you to start there next month?”

  Nini nods. She looks as though she’s about to cry.

  “I’m scared,” she tells me. “You won’t be there. You’ve always been there.”

  “And I’ll still be there for you no matter where you live,” I say, though I feel scared and sad as well. We’ve been a team for so long.

  “Ricky’s always been there as well,” she says. “He’s spent this entire semester trying to win me back, and now I’m just throwing it all in his face.”

  “Nini, it’s the twenty-first century. You’re moving one state away. We have phones and computers. We have cars and planes. We have Instagram, if E.J. hasn’t used it all up. And anyway, Ricky will understand what a big deal this is for you.”

  “But you know his mom just left. She’s living in Chicago now, and she has a whole new life there. I don’t know if he can take someone else leaving.”

  “He’s still got Big Red,” I reassure her. “And me. And Carlos. And Ashlyn. The whole theater gang!”

  Rain lashes the windows and even though the room is cozy, we both shiver.

  “I guess I’m not sure the best way to tell him,” says Nini, wriggling under her comforter. “Or the best time. If we go to the convention next weekend, I don’t want this to be some kind of dark cloud. It may be the last time we’re all together for a while.”

  This gets me thinking. Plotting. Strategic thinking, I’d like to call it. “How about…?” I begin, rocking the basket chair so it feels as though it’s hanging from a wintry branch rather than a rafter. “How about you say nothing to Ricky until after the trip to the convention? That way you get to have tons of fun, spend a lot of time together, have a blast.”

  “You mean one last time. Kourt, I can’t keep it from him for a whole week. I’ll feel so guilty and weird.”

  “What’s the alternative? You know how much he’s looking forward to this. Who knew he’d turn into such a musical freak?” Not me, I want to say. No way. But then, I never imagined I’d get dragged into the show either.

  Nini flops back on her pillows with a sigh that would make Sharpay proud. “So either I ruin the trip for him before, or ruin it afterward.”

  “Don’t look at it that way. Your good news shouldn’t ruin anything for him. He loves you, remember?”

  Nini sits up like someone in a movie woken by a bad dream.

  “You don’t think I’m selfish wanting to study in Denver, do you?”

  “No. Stop looking for excuses to…to Stick to the Status Quo!”

  She throws the stuffed lion at me.

  “Maybe,” Nini says, “at the convention, I could do something like get him a special gift. You know, he’s told me how High School Musical will always hold a special place in his heart because of how it helped us to get back together.”

  “Sweet!”

  “So at the convention there are going to be original cast members, right? Maybe I can get them to sign a program or something, and give it to him as a memento of the show. To show him how important he is to me, and how special the show is to us both.”

  “If you get all those signatures, you’re going to have to drag that program from Carlos’s cold, dead hands. It’ll be the greatest HSM souvenir of all time.”

  We both laugh, and Nini’s phone decides to join in, buzzing away on the bed.

  “Speak of the devil,” she says, and then she’s lost to me for the next ten minutes, texting back and forth with her very own Troy Bolton, smiling away at all the cute things he’s saying.

  So I snuggle back into the basket seat and close my eyes. I’ve always liked the sound of rain at night; it helps me clear my mind. Nini’s not the only one considering new directions, new steps into the unknown. I’ve always been a backstage kind of gal, keeping my singing for church. But now Miss Jenn is telling me to step into the spotlight. Nini’s trying to talk me into a singing workshop at the convention next week.

  Maybe I could audition for the spring musical. Could I? I’ve never seen myself as an actor or performer, and we can all agree that while I’ve got moves, I’m no dancer. Am I just deluding myself by thinking I could take center stage? Chances are I wouldn’t make it past the auditions. Miss Jenn and Carlos would take one look at me standing there, a blank look on my face—despite my amazing eye shadow—and send me backstage where I belong.

  I decide not to say anything to Nini. She’s got plenty to think about right now. I need to support her so she doesn’t lose her nerve about this YAC opportunity. Now that the show’s over, I need to come back down to

  earth.

  A tree branch thwacks against the window and I almost jump out of my skin. Nini doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s gazing at Ricky’s latest text, her face lit up with a smile. I want to hold on to this moment for as long as we can. In the new year she’ll be moving to Denver, and we may not have the opportunity to hang like this for a long time.

  I know we have to grow up and do things. But sometimes, deep down, I wish we could stay girls forever, with our matching soft toys, and our dreams about the future just that—dreams.

  1. Don’t ask. Demand. Principal Gutierrez is a reasonable man, but this is no time for reason. Tell him you need the school minivan to drive to Jackson Hole on a trip of supreme cultural importance and educational significance. Try not to use the phrase cosmic synergy, however much it’s dying to slip out of your mouth. Just make this sound serious and vital, like a visit to the Smithsonian, except with more singing and dancing.

  2. Avoid Mr. Mazzara, who is sure to think of something robotics-related that’s happening the exact same weekend, because Mr. Mazzara and his robotics-related friends have no social lives and need to have quizzes or experiments or whatever it is they do every single Saturday. (Go to the mall already, Mazzara!)

  3. Actually, Mazzara might be helpful. Remember when you had that “how to levitate Troy” problem in the musical, and he st
epped right in and made it work? And then you watched Big Hero 6 together and it was…nice. Well, until somehow the theater caught on fire. Okay, next point.

  4. Jump on Mazzara when he waves at you in the staff room/flags you down in the hallway, and convince him to book the minivan for you. He owes you one for distributing those robotics stickers at opening night. That’s only fair. And if all else fails—compliment him on those weird knitted neckties he wears. Yes, compliment him. Even though his grandma must make them for him, because it’s inconceivable any store would sell them.

  5. E-mail permission slips to all the parents and assure them that a) you are a trained van driver, b) you will be chaperoning everyone all the time and not having any fun yourself, c) everyone will only need one night of accommodation, and d) you’ll deliver them all home before midnight on Saturday. Do not mention that LUCAS GRABEEL himself will be at the convention, and certainly do not type his name all in caps as though you’re an obsessive fangirl rather than a Professional Teacher (or similar).

  6. Google “how to become a trained van driver in the state of Utah.”

  7. Promise Principal Gutierrez that during this trip no one will get lost or go missing, no accidents will occur, no hearts will be broken, and no voices will be strained. Promise him that all the students who go to High School Musical: The Musical: The Convention will think of this as the best weekend of their lives, and later—when they are all wealthy and famous—will endow the school with scholarships and make the school the most famous school in America, even more famous than the one in the movie Fame.

  8. Pause to give Kourtney advice. She is such a good kid. When she asks what you meant when you said you have “big plans” for her, remember how blown away you were by her voice. Don’t confuse plans with vans and get distracted imagining a fleet of supersize vehicles driving in convoy to Wyoming on Friday. When Kourtney tells you she is thinking about maybe auditioning for the spring musical, remind her that there is no maybe about it. So much talent! This is why you became a teacher. (Except you didn’t really become a teacher, and almost got fired earlier this semester when everyone found out.)

  9. Stay focused. Don’t get distracted by thinking about that guy Mike you met at the bowling alley. That guy Mike is Ricky Bowen’s dad. Is it too weird to date a student’s father? Would that make you the evil stepmother? Does he own a backup minivan, just in case? Really, you have to stay focused.

  10. Check the sign-up sheet. Call the hotel in Jackson Hole to reserve rooms. Discover the hotel is full and book rooms at a motel that’s just outside town. Glance at the weather forecast for this weekend and ignore the symbol that looks like a snowflake. It’s probably just some powdered sugar you sprinkled by accident on your phone. Walk to class singing This van is my van / This van is our van / We’ll drive it on Friday / To our convention in case Mr. Mazzara is passing by and planning something sneaky.

  11. Take a deep breath. This can happen. You are Miss Jenn, the designer of dreams, the dreamer of magic, the magician of music, the musician of design…. Okay. So you don’t know where you’re going with this. But you know where you are going? To the High School Musical: The Musical: The Convention. In Jackson Hole. This weekend. Even if you all have to walk there in the snow.*

  *Not literally, of course, because you’ll have that minivan, and the weather is sure to be fine.

  Other kids think I’m tough. Cold, unfriendly. When you’ve been to as many schools as I have, it’s inevitable. That’s just the way you have to be. Keep a hard shell to hide the mush inside. When you’re the new girl carrying her tray across yet another strange cafeteria, everyone staring, no one wanting you to sit down with them, you have to be tough. I’ve learned the hard way that no one wants to make friends with you, or stay friends with you, when you’re a transfer student who’s only sticking around for a semester.

  All of the above was true until I came to East High. We’ve had our growing pains, I know. My mom likes to call it a learning curve. She works for FEMA and has to move wherever the job takes her, so she’s used to learning curves. It’s not so easy when you’re at an actual place of learning, like a school. Especially not when you can sing and dance, and get the big roles in school musicals.

  Most of that drama set are juniors and I’m a sophomore, and at the beginning that added to my outsider status. When I first arrived at East High, I had gone to five schools in seven years. I needed to be confident, because that was my armor. If I was an outsider at every single one of these schools, at least I could be the star of the show. Before I went to school here, I used to tell myself, If you don’t care about people, you don’t care what they think of you.

  But there’s something about this place that feels different from all my other schools. These kids are genuinely friendly. They’re good people. Sure, they bristled when I showed up at the auditions and danced them all off the stage. And we’ve had our ups and downs along the way, and maybe I did steal Nini’s cell phone, and maybe I did try to dance-shame Nini, and change the rehearsal schedule, and cause maximum trouble by going to the homecoming dance with E.J.—but that’s all ancient history now. Look at E.J.—he might have been furious with me. Instead he bought me a plane ticket so I could come back to Utah for the show.

  This East High crowd is into forgiving and forgetting. When they sing “We’re All in This Together” they really mean it. Old Gina would have scoffed. But New Gina is kind of touched by it.

  And now Ashlyn has made the most incredible offer. After she told her parents how I have to move cities again when I’ve just arrived, and just settled down, and just made friends, she tracked me down to ask if maybe I could stay with her family, to see out the school year.

  I call my mom to tell her. I’m almost hyperventilating with excitement.

  “It means no new school,” I say. “No new trying-to-make-friends. I can stay here with the friends I’ve made and maybe get the lead in the spring musical.”

  “Gina, honey,” my mom says, and I realize she doesn’t sound excited at all. “Slow down a minute. You’ve been at East High for a few months. Sure, this sounds great now, when you’ve just been in a show, and you’ve all had fun together. But that’s different from living with strangers.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! They’re not strangers. Not anymore.”

  “A few months,” my mom says again. “You’ve been there a few months. You’re in the honeymoon phase right now. Think about next semester, living with a family you don’t know, when you have tests and homework and more stress. And say you get the lead in the musical, which I’m sure you will—because no one there could possibly have your talent and experience. Maybe they’ll turn on you, these new friends of yours.”

  I don’t reply. Mom isn’t wrong, exactly. This has happened before, at other schools. Other kids seem to like me, and then when they decide I’ve “stolen” the lead from someone they’ve known since kindergarten, I’m out in the cold again. Mom is talking to someone in her office: I can hear the buzz of voices and maybe a photocopier. It’s the weekend, but my mom works all the time. A crisis, she says, doesn’t know one day of the week from the next. Kind of like the theater.

  “Hon, I have to go,” Mom says. “You’re staying with Ashlyn’s family this week.”

  “And going on the school trip on Friday,” I remind her. There’s no way I’m missing out on that.

  “Yes, yes,” she says, and I can tell she’s already thinking about work again. “So just see how it goes. Then we can talk again once you’re home.”

  “Okay,” I agree, though I don’t agree. Now is not the time to argue. When my mother is in work mode, she doesn’t hear me at all. There’s no point in saying that

  the new house in DC where our suitcases and boxes aren’t even unpacked isn’t “home” to me. I’ve spent more time in Ashlyn’s house than our new place, or at least that’s what it feels like. And there are even people around at dinnertime so I’m not eating alone, watching K-pop clips
on YouTube. Ashlyn’s mom wants me to run family stretch-and-strengthen sessions in their basement, though I think she’s the only family member who’s really into it. Everyone else claims to be allergic to incense.

  The road trip is important, because I don’t want Ashlyn to change her mind about letting me stay. Though Ashlyn is supercool and funny, I worry that we don’t really have a lot in common. We’re in different years at school, so at home we’ll be studying by ourselves, working on different assignments. Maybe she’ll get tired of having me around all the time at her house, taking up space in her room.

  I’m going to do my best to be a supportive friend all weekend, and make sure Ashlyn has the best time. Nothing’s going wrong on this trip, I promise.

  Living in your own private Idaho? You’re in the wrong state! Join us in WY this weekend for the HSM Convention!

  What you’ve been looking for: vocal workshops for beginners/advanced. #HSMCon

  Planning a sequel? Don’t Scream! Hear our industry panel discussing staging HSM2!

  The boys are back…and @ #HSMCon

  Bop to the top of the line and our original cast members will SIGN!

  Wanna feel fabulous? Try our “get loose” workshop for dancers of all abilities @ #HSMCon!

  I can’t take my eyes off of you…in the duets class! Learn how me + you = killer power ballads #HSMCon

  After the show my mom went straight back to Chicago with her new boyfriend, Todd. We only had the chance to talk for a little while, but I felt a bit better about it. She seems happy, and she says my dad is happy for her as well.

  This semester it was really difficult accepting my break-up with Nini. (Note: I saw it as a break. Nini was the one who found a new boyfriend and made it a break-up.) Dealing with my parents’ break-up as well made everything worse. If it was up to me, my parents would be living in the same house, in Salt Lake City, and we’d sit down together to eat every night. Then I would hang out with Nini writing songs on my guitar, or hang out with Big Red crushing marauders and zombies. It’s just hard getting used to change, I guess.