Fueled by Ramen's High School Musical

Back home and back to school. Back to East High School. As soon as Gabe stepped off the bus, he was met by a legion of friends and admirers, his best friend pushing through everyone else to stand right next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he walked towards the school.

“Gabe, man! How you doing?!”

“Hey, Travis,” he smiled, then addressed the rest of the people around him. “Hey, guys. Happy New Year!”

“Yeah! It’s gonna be a happy Wildcat New Year!” Travis yelled out. “Because in two weeks, we’re going to the championships! With you leading us to infinity and beyond!” He dropped the basketball that he was always carrying around with him into Gabe’s arms as the crowd of people around them started cheering.

“WHAT TEAM?!”

“WILDCATS!”

“WHAT TEAM?!”

“WILDCATS!”

They walked through the front doors into the school building laughing and chatting through the halls when East High’s Diva Bitch, Ryan Ross came sauntering towards them, followed by his faithful sidekick and brother, Patrick Stump (yeah, different last names, but they’re still brothers. No one really understands it.). Ryan was too involved in texting away on his Sidekick (the phone-type, not the Patrick-type) to even watch out for the crowd of basketball players and basketball cheerleaders and basketball fans, so he just arrogantly pushed his through them while Patrick walked around.

“I see the ice prince has returned from the North Pole,” Brendon Urie, one of the basketball players said, watching Ryan walk away.

“You know, he probably spent the holidays the way he always does,” Travis said.

“How’s that?” another team mate asked.

“Shopping for mirrors.”

“OOH!” they all exclaimed, even though the joke really wasn’t even funny and hardly made sense at all.

“Ugh,” Victoria, the school’s leader of the braniac clique shot as the whooping and yelling group walked past her, distracting her from the arduous task of hanging up posters to recruit members for the Scholastic Team. “Behold the zoo animals heralding the new year. How tribal.” Just then, the bell to go to homeroom rang and Victoria waved to her brainy buddies as they all prepared to get to class right on time.

“Mom, my stomach hurts,” William complained, clutching to his belly as he walked through the halls with his mother and the principal of his new school.

“It’s always nervous on the first day a new school. You’ll do great!” his mom said. “You always do. And…I made my company promise that I can’t be transferred again until you graduate.”

“I reviewed your impressive transcripts,” the principal interrupted. “I expect your light will shine very brightly here at East High.”

“I don’t wanna be the school’s freaky genius boy again,” William whined to his mom.

“Just be William,” she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on her son’s forehead.

“This way,” the principal directed, leading William towards the stairs to get to his homeroom.

Gabe sat on top of one of the desks in his homeroom class, his back facing the door as he talked to Travis and a few other kids about winter break and other random things. When a head of familiar brown hair swept past him, he immediately broke away from his current conversation to try to look at the person that had just gone by him, but he was immediately distracted by Ryan sitting right in front of him, smiling.

“Hi, Gabe,” he giggled.

“Hi,” Gabe replied, trying to look around Ryan, but not succeeded before the bell rang and everyone scrambled for a seat just as their wacked-out drama teacher, Mr. Wentz began to talk.

“I trust you all had splendid holidays! Check the sign-up sheets in the lobby for new activities…Mister Saporta…” Wentz said, and Gabe, who was still slightly standing up, trying to look at the newest addition to the classroom, lowered himself into his front-row seat. “Especially our winter musicál. We will have singles auditions for our supporting roles and pairs auditions for our two leads. Mister McCoy! This is a place of learning, not a hockey arena!” Wentz yelled, coming towards Travis and pointing at his basketball. Travis immediately hugged the ball to his chest protectively, and slid it down so that it was on his lap, under the desk.

“There is also a final sign-up form for next week’s scholastic decathlon competition.”

Gabe stopped listening to Wentz and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and deciding to test whether his current theory was correct or not. He found William’s number in his address book and clicked ‘send’ and almost right away, a polyphonic ringtone jingle came from the back of the classroom.

“AH!” Wentz shouted. “The cell phone menace has returned to our place of learning!”

Ryan looked up from his pink-gemmed-studded Sidekick and turned around to look at Patrick who was checking his phone to make sure that it wasn’t him who was ringing.

“Ryan and Patrick. Cell phones, and I will see you in detention!” Wentz said, holding out a small bucket for them to put their phones in. Ryan gasped dramatically, dropping his Sidekick into the bucket and Patrick put his own phone in it as well.

“We have zero tolerance for cell phones in class, so we will get to know each other in detention,” Wentz said as he reached the back of the class. “Cell phone!” he demanded. “And welcome to East High, Mister Beckett. Mister Saporta! I see your phone is involved, so! We will see you in detention as well!” Gabe grimaced, but dropped his phone into the cell-phone-collecting bucket as well.

“No, no, no,” Travis interjected. “That’s not even a possibility, Mister Wentz, your honour. Because, you see, we have basketball practice, and Gabe--”

“Ah!” Wentz cut him off. “That will be fifteen minutes for you, too, Mister McCoy! Count them.”

“That would probably be a challenge, since he probably can’t count that high,” Victoria laughed from the back of the classroom.

“Fifteen minutes for you, too!” Wentz yelled, and Victoria gasped.

“Shall this continue?! The holidays are over, people! Way over! Now! Anymore comments?! Questions?!”

A boy in the back of the classroom raised his hand, smiling.

“Yes, Mister Siska?”

“So, how were your holidays, Mister Wentz?” he asked, and the entire class groaned.

“What?!” Adam/Sisky/Mister Siska said, just as the bell rang and everyone sprang up out of their seats towards the door.

“See you in detention, dude,” Travis said once he and Gabe were out of the classroom and he went his separate way while Gabe leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting, until finally, William walked out of the class, going in the other direction and Gabe shot off towards him.

“Hey!” he greeted, and William turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

“I don’t--”

“Believe it!” Gabe finished for him.

“Me--”

“Neither! …But how?”

“My mom’s company transferred her here to Albuquerque,” William explained. “I can’t believe you live here! I looked for you at the lodge on New Years Day, but--”

“I know, we had to leave first thing,” Gabe said, his voice low as they began to walk down the halls.

“Why are you whispering?” William laughed.

“What?” Gabe whispered. “Oh,” he said in his normal voice. “My uh, well, my friends know about the snowboarding um, I haven’t quite told them about the uh, the singing…thing…yet.”

“Too much for them to handle?”

“Oh, no, it was…cool. But, you know, my friends…it’s uh…it’s not what I do. That was like a…a different person,” Gabe said, and William abruptly turned down one of the halls and Gabe had to run a bit to catch up.

“So, uh, anyways,” Gabe said, as the entered the main area of the school. “Welcome to East High. Oh, and now that you’ve met Mr. Wentz, I bet you just can’t wait to sign up for that,” Gabe laughed, gesturing to the wall with the sign-sheet for the winter musical auditions.

“I won’t be signing up for anything for awhile,” William told him, smiling. “I just want to get to know the school. But if you signed up, I’d consider coming to the show,” he grinned.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s completely impossible.”

“What’s impossible, Gabe?” Ryan asked, smiling slyly as he came around the corner. “I wouldn’t think ‘impossible’ is even in your vocabulary -- Oh. So nice of you to show a new classmate around,” he said, eyeing William suspiciously. Gabe and William glanced at each other quickly and back at Ryan, just as he pulled out a pink sharpie from his too-tight pants and sauntered over to right in front of the sign-up sheet, scrawling his name out over the entire blank section for the pairs audition. He smiled and turned to face Gabe and William again.

“Oh! Were you going to sign up, too?” he asked, way too flamboyantly, and William and Gabe both looked at each other again, then back at Ryan, beginning to shake their heads, but Ryan wasn’t paying attention.

“My brother and I have starred in all the school’s productions,” he bragged. “And we really welcome newcomers. There are a lot of supporting roles in the show. I’m sure we can find something for you.”

“No, no, no, I was just looking at all of the bulletin boards,” William told him, and Gabe nodded. “There’s lots going on at this school.” William looked around then walked forward a few steps, eyes landing on the sign-up sheet with Ryan’s name taking up the entire top half.

“Nice penmanship,” he smiled, beginning to walk away, and Gabe stifled a laugh, starting to walk after him.

“So, Gabe!” Ryan called out, and Gabe stopped, turning to face Ryan. “I missed you during vacation. What’d you do?”

“Oh, you know, uh, played basketball…snowboarding…more basketball,” Gabe smiled.

“When’s the big game?”

“Two weeks,” Gabe answered, holding up two fingers.

“You are so dedicated,” Ryan sighed, admiring Gabe with lusty eyes. “Just like me!” he giggled. “I hope you come watch me in the musical. Promise?” he asked, and Gabe nodded quickly, beginning to turn away again.

“Toodles!” Ryan giggled, waving, and Gabe turned back to wave at him slightly.

“Uh…toodles,” he muttered.

“So dude,” Gabe said, throwing a basketball up in the air and catching it while Travis stretched beside him, both of them in their basketball outfits to practice in the gym with the rest of the team. “That school musical thing…is it true you get extra credit just for auditioning?”

“Who cares?”

“You know, it’s always good to get extra credit! For…college….”

“Do you ever think LeBron James or Shaquele O’Neil auditioned for their school musical?”

“…Maybe?”

“Gabe,” Travis said, standing up and stretching his arms. “Look, the music in those shows isn’t hip-hop or…rock…or anything that can be considered a culture. It’s like…show music. It’s all costumes and make-up…,” Travis shuddered. “Ugh, dude, it’s frightening.”

“Yeah, I know, I just thought it might be a good laugh! Yeah. …Ryan’s kinda cute, too.”

“So is a mountain lion,” Travis replied, grabbing the basketball from Gabe. “But you don’t pet it.”

Gabe sighed as Travis walked away, and he turned to face his team.

“Alright, Wildcats! Pair up!” he yelled. “Let’s go!”

They started practice, balls bouncing all of the place as Adam Siska passed a ball to Joe Trohman who passed it to Zac/Troy (his real name was Zac Efron, but some point during their freshman year, he began insisting that everyone call him Troy Bolton. No one really asked questions about it anymore. They figured it was some undiagnosed mental thing) who passed it to Josh Farro and on and on the ball went down the line of basketball players.

And maybe it was all in his head, but the basketballs against the gym floor seemed to take on some sort of rhythm and the way the players passed the ball seemed to be some sort of dance that they all knew the exact moves to.

“Coach said to fake right, and break left, watch out for the pick and keep an eye on defense,” Gabe sang, throwing the ball to Brendon Urie and running past some other guys. “Gotta run the give and go and take the ball to the hole, and don’t be afraid to shoot the outside ‘J’,” he sang, as he got the ball back and jumped, tossing it towards the net and making it in.

“Just keep your head in the game. Keep your head in the game. But don’t be afraid to shoot the outside ‘J’. Just keep your head in the game. You gotta getcha, getcha head in the game.”

“We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game!” Gabe’s teammates sang back to him.

“You gotta getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game!”

“C’mon, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“We gotta get our, get our, get our, get our head in the game!”

“Whoooo!” they all yelled at Gabe shot another basket.

“Let’s make sure that we get the rebound, ‘cause when we get it then the crowd will go wild. A second chance, gotta grab it and go, maybe this time will hit the right notes…” Gabe sang, then stepped aside, throwing the ball to his team and shaking his head at himself.

“Wait a minute, it’s not the time or place. Wait a minute, get my head in the game,” he sang to himself. “Wait a minute, get my head in the game. Wait a minute…wait a minute.” He regained himself, then bounced back in to join his teammates, all of them forming a dancing circle around him.

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“C’mon, get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game! Whooo!”

The lights in the gym dimmed and the circle of basketball players around Gabe backed up, kneeling on the ground as the spotlight (wait, when did they install spotlights in the gym?!) fell directly on him.

“Why am I feeling so wrong? My head’s in the game, but my heart’s in the song! He makes this feel so right! Should I go for it? …I better shake this….Yikes!”

The spotlight disappeared as all of the other members of the team jumped up and someone threw a ball at Gabe, which he caught. Then, all of the sudden, the circle of guys around him all started dancing in perfect sync, all of them knowing every single move. And somehow…somehow Gabe seemed to know every single move as well.

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“C’mon, get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game!”

“I gotta get my, get my head in the game!”

“You gotta getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha head in the game! Whooo!”

And all of them, at the same exact time, threw the basketballs that each of them had towards the hoop and then ran off towards the locker rooms, shouting and yelling about a wildcats while Gabe stayed behind, watching the balls drop (the BASKETballs drop, you pervert!) to the ground and picking one up and taking one last shot at making a basket.

“WHAT TEAM?!”

“WILDCATS!”

“WHAT TEAM?!”

“WILDCATS!”

“WHAT TEAM?!”

“WILDCATS!”

“GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!”