A/N: Yes, I know. Another oneshot. But I did tell you to expect them, right? Haha. Well, here's my stab and pathetic try at a humor genre. I got inspired from a fic comparable to this; but it was in a different category outside of high school musical, and I decided to do a little spin on it; make it my own type of thing. A little weird and cheesy, but I hope you enjoy, because I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical

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Gabriella,

You know, I've never been really great at writing. Not so much. English was never my best subject. I think you know this though, after helping me clean out my locker and seeing my not-so-well grades. (Oh, and by the way, I desperately need to clean that out again. Empty Snapple cans plus candy bar wrappers equals smelly locker; which equals a long lecture from Miss Darbus who so conveniently cat-walked by before fourth period.)

So why am I doing this? Why am I writing this completely insane and crazy letter? Well, you see, I've never been really good with saying honest things to people, or confessing my feelings. Which is why I'm writing this. To confess my feelings. In a letter. Crazy and utterly stupid, I know. But you see, I need to get this out. Somehow. And it just so happens that after the long lecture from Miss Darbus about locker cleanliness, she gave me detention during free period. So having nothing else to do, I've finally decided to write this letter, which no doubly is the most awkward thing ever.

And you're probably getting impatient, because you just really want to know what the whole point of this dim-witted letter is. But that's a shame, Gabriella. Because if I know you, and I like to think that I do, I have an understanding you like to read? So you know, if you were to just skim this whole paragraph down and try to get to the good part…that wouldn't do so much for your character, now would it? So anyway, please don't skip to the bottom. Because then that would be completely useless for me to write this…and then I would have wasted a full period where I could have been effectively staring at my algebra II worksheet, with enriched vocabulary and twelve problems.

Anyway, moving on. I don't really know how to say this…but I'll try. The thing is…well…you amaze me? I really don't know how to say it; it's nothing I can really explain in words, much less in a discomfited letter with no meaning. So, let me start from the beginning.

Do you remember last week? Well, of course you probably do, and you perhaps are wondering what it has to do with this letter. Let me give you more depth on that statement. Do you remember last Tuesday during lunch, when Evan Finch gave you back your chemistry notes and thanked you by walking you to your next class? You know, the class that I walk you to everyday after lunch?

Please don't laugh.

But I'm assuming that you recall this memory? Yes…well, how can I say this? Let's just say this small, sweet, innocent act caused me to experience something I'd never felt before. And let's just say, (for argument's sake of course) that this feeling was jealously. Why would I be feeling this way? What would cause me, of all people, to feel jealously? I mean first off, it's Evan Finch. Can you believe that? I was (almost, of course) jealous of a guy who's last name was Finch. And I knew you better; had a better relationship with you, so why would I be jealous?

Another thing. It seems whenever you walk into the room, this weird, unexplainable feeling seems to over wash my body. It's different from any other feeling; I can't really elaborate on it. It's this abnormal, 'heart lifting' (Don't ask, my mom told me that. And yes, I did ask her for help on this subject. You see, that's how sad this situation has gotten. But anyway...) feeling in the pit of my stomach. And then my hands proceed to get clammy and cold and I just can't think…straight. When I'm around you, anyway. It's like my words get all tangled up into one big bunch; and they can't seem to get straightened out until you're gone. This is another reason why I'm writing this; because I can't tell it to your face.

So, before I get sidetracked, you remember that time with Evan Finch, yes? Well, I think it would be fair to say that it took Chad, Jason and a plate of Zeke's extraordinary cookies to calm me down. That sounds absolutely pathetic, I know. Good thing that I'm the only one stuck in this detention, because I know Chad would be probably reading this over my shoulder and laughing. And then he would probably make me read it out loud…which could seriously harm me in ways that would be too long to write down. Not that I won't have to endure his wrath later for missing free period work out. And when and if he finds out I wrote this letter, I'll then be fried even more. But I'm not worried about that; in fact that's the least of my worries.

So, moving on..

It would be entirely insane to go crazy over your boyish-friends; especially if it's something so innocent like copying notes and doing an entirely childlike and platonic gesture by walking you to class. But it's the truth. And I think I've come to a reasonable conclusion as to why I'm feeling this way.

But…erm...you see, it's not the easiest thing for me to write down. Or say. Because, well, I've never really experienced it before. And it's something I've only really said to my parents. But don't worry, that's for an entirely different reason. And to be honest, I'm having a lot more trouble with this than I thought I would. If you hadn't noticed that already, obviously. I've probably wasted half of this piece of loose-leaf babbling about stupid and unnecessary things; distracting myself from the real point of the message here. Maybe now you're thinking, 'what could 'playmaker, wildcat superstar' be possibly worried and terribly nervous about saying?' (Or writing, in this case.)

Well, in the end, I think I've found that's really too important and significant to just write down, or put in plain words on paper. But, I think the point of this whole, babbling and tongue-tied letter is that, Gabriella, I like you. Incalculably. (See, I can use big words. And that one related to math. So that's like, double points for me right there. Maybe that algebra II worksheet was useful after all…) But more than a friend…you know what I mean? And this is most likely the corniest, uncoordinated note ever written, but that's okay. Because I think you get what I'm trying to say. And if you don't…then maybe you're not as smart as I think you are.

Just kidding.

So, to wrap up this intolerably written note, I think I'll just leave a few sentences summing up this whole disaster on paper. Since I had simply no other way of telling you this in person, or any other way for that matter, (because if I had a better way that I could manage, I would've done it. But no, you're stuck with this mushy letter. My condolences.) I wrote this letter during free period, though it's not really free, because I can't really do anything. Well, actually, no. I lied. I could have listened to Miss Darbus drain on about the theatre and 'musicale' productions she's put on in the past, but I chose to write this incredibly pointless letter to you instead, expressing my feelings.

Before Miss Darbus catches me, I better finish this up. But prior to ending this, please don't ask me to explain it after you read it, because, well, I can't really. If you do, you'll just end up with a rambling and incomprehensible reason that won't be able to comprehend in any way, even for a scholar much like yourself. So with all this in mind, I hope you don't mind the utterly distracting points of the letter, and understand that I had completely no other way to explain this to you. And I think Miss Darbus is reading over my shoulder right now…yes, she is.

She says hi, and that 'I shouldn't have wasted my time writing this and should have written an essay on locker cleanliness instead; putting my time to good use.'

But since when do we ever listen to Miss Darbus?

-Troy