The squeaking of sneakers fills the gym as a team of basketball players decked in red and white, run around the gym, practicing their plays or their next game. One player stands out of them all. Not only was it his perfectly toned and sculpted muscles that drew women in, it was his piercing blue eyes that could see right into your soul. Maybe it was his infamous smirk and his winks that drove the women wild. For one girl, it was his sensitive side that drew her in into his heart, and let her out with a broken heart. Troy Bolton. Most people at East High School would say that he was the alpha dog of the tiny Albuquerque school. He knew how to work a crowd, to get them going wild. Troy also knew what it took to be the best. But not everyone is perfect; everyone has secrets.
"Great job team! Keep it up and we will definitely kick West High's ass!" Called the gorgeous blue-eyed boy to his tired and stressed teammates.
"Hit the showers!" Chad Dan forth yelled, feeling powerful. Chad had been Troy's bestfriend since kindergarten when Chad had offered to share his crayons. He had the twenty-four pack, what kid wouldn't want to share? They were inseparable. Wherever one went, the other was right behind.
"That was a brutal practice, man," Chad exclaimed to Troy, breathing excessively hard.
"Yeah I guess. You can leave if you want, I'm gonna stay here and play some more."
"Dude! You just practice for like a thousand hours, you're like a freaking robot." Troy laughed at his bestfriend and shrugged his shoulders.
"You have to practice to be the best. Which we both know I already am." As Troy was letting his ego show, he made a perfect free throw.
Every time his fingertips touched the rough surface of the round, orange ball, Troy felt in the zone. No one could stop him. It was his safe place. No one could bother him, flirt with him, or make him angry. The smelly gym was where he could go to think about anything and everything.
As Chad left the gym, Troy sat down in the middle of the court on his back and sighed heavily, thinking about what to do when he got home from school, just like he did everyday after practice.
"TROY, phone's for you," declared Elizabeth Bolton, Troy's stepmother from the kitchen. His father, Jack Bolton, and Elizabeth had gotten married when Troy was just ten years old. His biological mother, Elaine Thomas, had filed for divorce when Troy was nine. He didn't understand at all why his mom and dad didn't love each other anymore. Troy wanted to move back to Los Angeles with his mom, but his dad said it would be best if he stay with him.
Getting up from the couch, Troy made his way over to his step mom. "Thanks, Elizabeth." It wasn't that he didn't love his stepmother, he just didn't want to call her mom, it felt too weird. His stepmother handed him the phone, and Troy waited for her to be in another room before he answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Troy, it's your mother."
"Hey mom! How are you? How's LA?" The questions kept pouring out.
"I'm fine and LA is okay, just busy; not calming like Albuquerque." A hint of hurt poured through the receiver, going unnoticed by a naïve eighteen-year-old boy.
"That's great mom. So…can you put her on the line?" Troy's heart started beating faster and faster as he heard a faint noise coming from the other line, indicating someone else was grabbing the phone.