AN: This oneshot was originally my short story writing assignment for my AP literature class, but I liked it enough to change the characters' names to fit hsm. This was actually my way of making fun of my class who was struggling to come up with one idea per person whereas I was toying with fifteen different ideas. And, we had to read these aloud unfortunately, and anyone who has read any of my stories knows I dwell on depression, gore and morbidity, but it's ironic that I was the only person in my class who didn't, and so I was the comic relief, so to speak. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and feedback is definitely appreciated.

Note: this story is not meant to be taken seriously.

Disclaimer: HSM, youtube, facebook, Achmed the dead terrorist, and Jeff Dunham are not mine.

When the teacher spoke of their latest assignment, Gabriella thought she would die on the spot. It was bad enough that the teacher was making her write, let alone creatively. She was of superior intelligence, why should she be subjected to this torture? Logic was her forte, not creativity.

That evening, Gabriella locked herself in her room with her pencil and notebook and stared blankly at the blank paper before her. She had little less than two weeks to finish the assignment, but she knew better than to procrastinate, for it would take her two weeks to complete regardless.

From three o'clock until nine she sat there. She skipped dinner, and her parents were worried about her. When they knocked, however, she simply told them everything was fine and went back to staring at her paper.

At ten, Gabriella realized that, not only had she not started the short story, but she hadn't finished any of her other homework. Wide-eyed and frantic, she pulled her calculus homework from her bag and relaxed. This was her element, she thought. She needed the answers to be right or wrong with no gray area. She couldn't be bothered writing a silly short story. There were no boundaries. She detested that. At least with math, there was logic. She would always know that two plus two was four, not seven, twenty, a thousand...There was no logic whatsoever behind creative writing. In creative writing, if a person wanted two plus two to equal seventy in their work, he or she could. Oh, how she loathed this illogical nonsense.

Once she was finished her calculus homework, Gabriella looked at her clock and groaned. It was midnight. She had six hours to sleep. In six hours, she would have to repeat the tedium and agony all over again.

The next day went by in a similar fashion for Gabriella. She still didn't have any ideas whatsoever for her short story, and now she was running low on sleep. Could this day get any worse? She asked herself, trudging into her homeroom.

When the bell rang to dismiss to third period, Gabriella got up from her seat in calculus and

grudgingly headed upstairs. At the start of class, her teacher passed out the official rubric and went over it. Once again, Gabriella thought she was about to die. Ten points for setting, another ten for characters, twenty for plot, twenty for writing strategies, ten for mechanics, and five for format...Seventy-five points total. Out of the list, she knew she could get the five points for format and ten points for mechanics at least. After all, if she didn't write the story, then there was no way she could misspell anything or mess up structure and grammar. She could do a title as well. Fifteen out of seventy-five was better than nothing.

Once again, Gabriella went home to slave over her still-blank paper. She would never get this, she thought miserably. She would kill over first.

Around six, Gabriella decided to do the rest of her homework instead of waiting until ten o'clock. At nine, she pulled out her laptop and prayed that maybe having her computer instead of just a notebook help her, but no such luck.

Gabriella soon became side-tracked. The Internet was not a good invention for the teenage population, at least not those who were easily distracted. Getting on youtube, she browsed through several videos, watching a few here and there. Then, she came across Jeff Dunham, the professional ventriloquist. She hadn't seen Achmed, the dead terrorist, in a while, and she was in dire need of a good laugh...No, she thought. She couldn't waste anymore time. Hastily, she clicked out of the Internet.

An hour later, Gabriella decided to call it quits and retreated to her bed. There was no way she would be able to write this story. She had no creativity whatsoever. No one in her class really had creativity, either, at least none of those who had done nothing but complain for the last two days of class.

Ideas came to people in the weirdest of places, Gabriella thought. Maybe she was over-thinking the assignment. Maybe something simpler...

Still, nothing came to her.

A week passed. Gabriella still hadn't thought of anything. Today, at least, they had time in class to work on their stories. Maybe her friends could help her...

She went to Sharpay, the master of procrastination.

"So, Shar, what's your idea?" she asked her. At first, Sharpay didn't look up from her screen. Instead, she continued typing at a relatively fast rate. Just great, she thought. Even Sharpay had creativity... "Sharpay?" she said again.

Finally, Sharpay spoke but continued typing, "What, Gabriella? I'm busy."

"Um, what's your story about?" she asked again.

"I don't know yet," she answered.

"Then, what are you typing?" she questioned, finally looking at the screen. Gabriella wanted to laugh out loud, for Sharpay was on facebook, typing a long, heated message to another student sitting across the room from her.

"Shar, you really should be working or your story," she said.

"Why aren't you?" Sharpay questioned.

Defeated, Gabriella sank back in her desk and turned on the laptop. Sharpay was obviously only giving her blunt responses. Maybe she would be more willing to talk online...

Logging into facebook, Gabriella browsed the list of those who were online. Sure enough, her entire class was on at once. This made her feel slightly better, for at least she wasn't the only one putting off this assignment. Clicking on Sharpay's name, she sent her a message.

Do you really not know what your idea is?

Almost instantly, Sharpay responded.

Well, I'm considering a story on a pig who is ousted by the other animals on a farm because they think he has swine flu....What about you?

I have no idea!

You've been panicking for the past week, haven't you?

Yes!!!

Just calm down before you die of a brain-overload.

Gabriella knew that Sharpay didn't take her predicament seriously. In a way, this annoyed her, but maybe she was right, she admitted. Maybe she was taking this too seriously.

Can you...I don't know...help me? Gabriella responded after a moment's pause.

Maybe you should do a short story about a girl who over-thinks this assignment and dies of a brain explosion? Sharpay suggested.

That was it, Gabriella thought excitedly. She could do that. She would just use personal experiences. It was simple yet original.

Thanks, I might just do that.

With one day left until the assignment was due, Gabriella was proud and relieved to say that hers was complete. Sharpay, on the other hand, not so much...She had written a paragraph of her pig story but was too sociable to stay on task. Since she helped her come up with her idea, Gabriella offered to go to her home after school assist her with her story. Gratefully, she accepted the offer.

"You can stay over if you want," Sharpay offered. "God only knows how long we'll be."

"I'll think about it," Gabriella replied. As she said this, Sharpay stopped walking. "What's wrong?" she asked her, stopping a few steps ahead of her.

"It's...nothing," she said, shrugging it off and started walking again. "Wouldn't it be weird if you did die of a brain overload?"

"That would scare me," Gabriella said. "But, last I checked I don't have any aneurysms or tumors to worry about."

"Let's keep it that way," Sharpay said as the two parted ways to their respective classes.

After Gabriella finished helping Sharpay write her short story, Gabriella soon fell asleep on the floor beside Sharpay's bed, but Sharpay remained wide awake, unable to shake the vision from her mind. Sometimes, she had weird vibes about the future, and most o the time, she was right. While talking to Gabriella that morning, she had the sudden feeling that her story would come true.....

Whether it was true or not was anyone's guess. Sometimes, she didn't always get the premonitions right, but usually she did. She didn't tell Gabriella in fear of freaking her out. How was she supposed to explain to one of her best friends that she had a hunch that she would be dead by morning?

At some point in the night, Sharpay had finally fallen asleep. At six AM, her alarm sounded and she woke, forgetting about her premonition and the fact that Gabriella was even there until she accidentally stepped on her.

"Sorry, Gabi!" Sharpay apologized, expecting her to jump up immediately, but she remained motionless. "Gabriella?" she said, trying to shake her awake but to no avail. Wide-eyed, she grabbed her hand and felt for a pulse, finding none. She tried her neck. Nothing. Heartbeat? It was as though she didn't have a heart.

Suddenly, the premonition returned to her. It was real. Gabriella was dead.

A wave of emotions hit her all at once, but she didn't have time to scream or cry or dwell on any of them. She never cried, and she certainly wouldn't start now. What was she supposed to do with Gabriella's body? Wildly looking around the room, she found her closet. It was good enough for now, she thought, opening the door. Momentarily forgetting the fact that she had a dead body in her arms, she tossed Gabriella's body into the closet like she was merely a sack of potatoes. She would have to figure out what to do after school. It wasn't like she would be arrested for holding a dead body hostage without telling anyone for a few hours. She couldn't get arrested for it. It wasn't like she killed her. The only think that could possibly get damaged was her morality, but she didn't care about that, for that was already tarnished.

Glancing at the floor, she found a few papers lying face-down. Picking them up, she looked

through them, finding that they belonged to Gabriella's short story. Gabriella, she noted the previous night, had a much better story than she did. The wheels in her mind started turning....

Racing to Gabriella's laptop, Sharpay started searching her documents until she came across one labeled short story. Opening it, she changed Gabriella's name to hers and reprinted it, thankful that Gabriella hadn't used her real name in the story.

When Sharpay arrived to her third period English class, it was time to start presenting. The first few students, the braver of the class, read theirs. They were okay, she thought, but none were as good as hers...

In the middle of presentations, Sharpay finally decided to take her turn. Clearing her throat, she began, "When the teacher spoke of their latest assignment, Isabella thought she would die on the spot...."