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Nostalgia

Summary:

It's Fast Times at East High at the 10 year reunion of the graduating class of 2008. Ryan is orchestrating the eighties themed homecoming of our favorite characters. Has Gabriella gotten a Nobel Prize? Is Taylor the President yet? Did Chad really go hoops all the way? Is that Sharpay's face on a billboard? What route did Troy decide to take with his life, and does it include Gabriella?

Notes:

Step in to the future, but hold on to High School Musical. My very first venture into fanfiction was because of HSM in 2007. I'm not letting this fandom go anytime soon, so in honor of the 10 year anniversary of the third movie, I'm jumping back into it. Just for funsies. And, of course, nostalgia.

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New

Chapter Text

Gabriella squeezed her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “Yes, I realize the inconvenience,” she said into the receiver. She flicked through the mail in her hands, noticing most of it was still addressed to the previous tenants of her California apartment. “Thank you for granting me the time off,” she clicked off of the phone call and pushed her glasses up further on her nose. One envelope was particularly heavy; the return address read East High Alumni Association. She used her monogrammed silver letter opener to tear the envelope. When her mother gave it to her after graduating from Stanford, she thought it was a silly thing to own, but he found herself using it more frequently than she had imagined. Gabriella dumped the contents onto her countertop, unsurprised to see several bits of glitter. She wiggled the paper, dislodging more glitter, so that she could read the brightly colored script.

 

Please join us for a night of Fast Times at East High as we celebrate our 2008 class reunion in classic eighties style! Bust out your leg warmers and walk like an Egyptian on July 18th at 6:00pm.

Bring your families the day before for a tour of East High and lunch in the gymnasium. Festivities begin at 11am July 17th.

RSVP by June 30th to [email protected]

 

The envelope also contained information on a nearby hotel that had agreed to blocking out rooms for a discounted rate as well as ticket payment directions (a t-shirt would be included!). Finally, there was a red scrunchie wrapped around a small card reading   Once a wildcat, always a wildcat! . She took it off of the card and used it to pile her dark brown hair into a messy bun. Ryan had called Gabriella to let her know the date of the reunion a few weeks ago. She should have known that he would still be sending extravagant invitations as well. After much pleading on Ryan’s part, she had already agreed to go, and had just had her vacation time approved. She hated taking time off so soon after she started, but as Ryan put it, this was a once in a lifetime thing. He may have also used an outdated four letter acronym about living once. This reunion was his baby, and now that he taught drama for their alma mater, he was very invested in school spirit.

During high school, she never would have predicted that Ryan would be the only person she stayed in contact with. Granted, he did most of the heavy lifting, but she always carved out a few minutes for a phone call. When he vacationed with his boyfriend in California last year, Ryan and Mark met her for lunch more than once. It was an easy friendship, and she was grateful for it. She knew that seeing other old friends from high school wouldn’t be so simple.

Gabriella sat on couch and pulled out her laptop to type out her RSVP. It may be redundant, but she knew that Ryan would want to have her commitment to the event in writing. Afterwards, she cooked pasta for dinner, managing to find the colander after diving into two cardboard moving boxes. Gabriella made a mental note to finish unpacking, but knew that she would keep procrastinating. She would rather put the effort in at work rather than at home.

Three years after completing her doctorate, she had finally landed her dream job. SpaceX was an aerospace engineering equivalent to a football team making it to the superbowl. Gabriella had to work at a smaller company for three years and publish four academic papers just to get an interview. By some cosmic alignment, she was selected for the position. Now one month in, she was taking a few days off for a high school reunion. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

------

The mechanical whir of the electric wine bottle opener stopped, and Taylor pulled it upwards. She pressed the up arrow on the device, and soon the spent cork fell from the opening. It landed on the floor with a small bounce. Not bothering with a glass, Taylor wrapped her hand around the bottle and carried it to the living room. The pinot noir slid down her throat comfortingly, warming and relaxing her from the inside out.

Keeping the bottle in her hand, she propped her feet on the coffee table and reached for the remote. Within no time she found a trashy reality television show to distract herself with. As of today, she was officially a single woman. The marriage began with people all around; they’re closest friends and family gathered to witness the beginning of a lifetime together. All it took to end such an arrangement was herself, her now ex-husband, and a lawyer with his tie too tight.

If only that was really the end of it. She took another large gulp from the neck of the bottle, wincing at the realization that this wine was meant to be savored. Maybe she would start keeping hard liquor in the house. As long as she kept it up high enough, Adrie wouldn’t be able to get to it. Adrie was four and was the only good thing to come out of the marriage. As of now, she had joint custody with Jordan, and it was his weekend. Though she missed her daughter, she had no idea how she would have handled picking her up from school right after signing the divorce papers.

At least she didn’t have to worry about legal issues or the fairness of the agreement like most women did. After graduating from Yale, she had been working as a corporate lawyer, so she knew how to properly negotiate and review a contract. This particular contract was too personal, making her feel like a failure rather than a success. Taylor was actually thankful that Jordan had insisted on a third party lawyer draft it. Writing it would have been even more excruciating than signing it. She kept getting lost in her thoughts of self deprecation that edged their way in, unbidden.

Thankfully, the wine seemed to be helping. She sipped and watch the show, laughing at the absurd plot lines. Too quickly to be considered ladylike, the wine bottle was empty. Taylor threw it into the recycling bin and grabbed another. When she did, she noticed the pile of mail on her table that she brought in with her. Most of the envelopes were junk mail. A few bills she didn't want to deal with. One postcard from a friend got her attention. Other than that, there was only one left, marked from East High Alumni Association.

The invitation was a surprise to her. Ten years had passed so quickly. She remembered it all so clearly, but so much had happened in the time since. It felt like yesterday, but she also felt like that Taylor McKessie was so different than the one she was now. She wondered if that was what it was like for everyone who opened this.

As she drank the second bottle, she thought back to her high school group of friends. Other than seeing a few random online updates, she hadn’t kept in touch. Her recall failing, she booted up her laptop and started snooping. She found an online presence for several of her old friends, but no one seemed to post much with the exception of Sharpay.

She fingered the invitation again, pulling off the red scrunchie and wrapping it around her wrist. Taylor counted weekends on the calendar, finding that Jordan would have Adrie that weekend. Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed out an email to Ryan to say she would be there.

-----

“Troy!” The door of his Los Angeles apartment vibrated with the impact of tiny fists banging incessantly against the wood. “Troy!”

He yanked open the door and was met with the perfectly tanned face of Sharpay Evans. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked sarcastically.

“Oh, come on,” She said, pushing past him and into his apartment. Her stylish heels clicked on the tile floor. “Don’t act like you actually had plans.”

Troy rolled his eyes and closed the door behind her. “You never know,” he answered, “People change.”

“Exactly my point!” Sharpay said excitedly, waving a brightly colored piece of paper in the air. “So you should be even more excited for this!” She was practically bursting with excitement, the color in her cheeks matching the pink of her strappy tank top.

He raised an eyebrow, thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?” he asked. Once the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know now. Sharpay was always trying to get him to go to awkward parties and showings. Troy ran a hand through his brown hair, causing it to stand up in short spikes.

“East High reunion!” she screeched, clapping her hands excitedly. Sharpay’s blonde hair bounced around her face as she hopped in place.

“Oh, no.” He dropped onto the couch, resigned.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Time to revisit the alma mater, Bolton!” Sharpay sat beside him on the couch, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a shake.

“You can go. Show them how much you’ve changed and all,” he said with a sweeping gesture in her direction. Sharpay looked like she walked out of a fashion magazine. Her long blonde hair lazily curled in a way that looked effortless, but Troy knew better. She planned her outfits from head to heels. A pop of pink was always visible, but she did so now as more of a personal touch than her over the top style from high school.

“I resent that,” she answered, pouting her lips. She tossed the invitation his way.

He read over it. The damn thing even had a theme. It was hard enough to imagine going back, nonetheless dressed as Michael Jackson. Ten years gave him a lot of time to screw up old friendships and not enough time to try to put any of them back together. If he was honest with himself, that was a lie. He never really tried putting any of them back together. He didn’t know where to start. “I’m not going,” he said.

Sharpay threw herself against the pillows of the couch dramatically. She expected the backlash, but it was still annoying. “You can’t skip. You’re the basketball star.”

“Was,” Troy corrected, “I was the basketball star.” He patted his right knee to remind Sharpay. He had no problem remembering.

“Bolton, I am prepared to play dirty,” Sharpay said sternly. Troy rolled his blue eyes, anticipating what was coming. “I’m cashing it in,” she said, referring to a favor he had owed her for years, and there was no way he could deny her. Troy muttered a curse, knowing he was beat.

Troy looked back at the invitation, turning it in his hands. “Fine. But, you’re buying my ticket,” he said. So much had changed in the last ten years. He wasn’t where he thought he would be, or doing what he imagined he would. Maybe that was true for everyone. It was easy to have dreams and make plans in high school. His plans took a hard left turn, but for others it could have worked out. Chad may not be playing professional basketball, but he was coaching a solid college team. He had a hard time picturing Taylor quitting law school or Zeke giving up baking. Gabriella was smart enough to do anything.

Sharpay smiled triumphantly. “This could be the start of something new!” Troy shook his head at the irony of her words, recalling karaoke at a ski lodge on New Year’s Eve.