AN: This is just a fun little story I decided to write. It's pretty short, just six chapters, and, well, Troy may be a bit OOC, but I only did that to try and make it funnier. The title kinda sucks but oh well.
And, in case it's not obvious in the summary, this is Troy's diary during the movie.
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Title: Basketball Superstar's Diary
Rating: K+
Author: MadiWillow
Summary: Troy's mom give him a diar-journal for Christmas, which he inadvertently finds himself writing in as his life turns upside down.
Genre: Romance/Humor
Chapter: Chapter 1
Tuesday, December 27th
I can't believe it. What is wrong with my mother? Can someone please tell me what she's on!
I opened up this present on Christmas, hoping to see something like an autographed picture of Kobe Bryant or something. When I saw it was a book, I thought excitedly, she's gotten me a whole book of NBA autographs!
But, no. The book was blank. Why? Because she gave me a diary.
Diary. I still get chills just writing the word.
She said she gave it to me because I never tell her or my dad anything. She wants me to write down my feelings, since I can't vocalize them, and she doesn't want me to explode some day from keeping my feelings 'bottled up.' But I don't have a problem with my feelings. My feelings are fine.
The only reason I'm writing in this now is because I was bored, just lying on our hotel bed, when my mom was all, "Why aren't you doing anything?"
So I was like, "I dunno. I'm bored."
And she's all "Oh, goody! Then write in your dairy!"
Here I am.
Okay, for my manliness' sake, I'm going to call you a journal. A journal sounds more manly than 'diary.' Only five-year-old girls write in diaries.
Well, I think this is enough for, you know, ever. It was nice talking to you, dia-journal.
Friday, December 30th
We meet again.
I seriously don't even know why I'm writing in you again. I mean, I'm fifteen-years-old, turning sixteen in March, and, well, I'm a boy. Boys never write in diaries, not even four-year-old's.
In addition to being a fifteen-year-old boy, I'm also the first sophomore to ever make starting varsity on my school's basketball team. Plus, I'm team captain, in just four short weeks we have our championship game. Needless to say, I'm quite well known at our school.
And yet, here I am, writing in a frickin diar-journal.
But I can't tell anybody else about this, because all my friends are on the basketball team, I have no siblings, my mom would tell my dad, and my dad, well, he's the cause of it.
He is working me way too hard.
I mean, yeah, I know. He is the varsity coach, we have lost the championship the last three years, and I am the most valuable player on the team. But seriously. We're at a ski lodge in Colorado. Why are we playing basketball every waking minute? Like I don't already play it enough at home and at school?
Okay, hopefully this is good-bye for good, journal. It was nice talking to you.
Saturday, December 31st
I'm supposed to be getting dressed for this stupid kid's New Years Eve party. Well, actually, 'young adults', as my mom corrected herself when I questioned her about it. I really don't wanna go to some stupid New Years Eve party. I'd rather catch up on some sleeping – can you believe that I'm on Christmas Break and I haven't gotten to sleep in yet? Oh, of course not, you're not alive – or, better yet, I could eat! Eating it always good.
Well, I might as well just check out this dumb party before I eat or sleep. Might as well know I'm not missing anything.
Monday, January 1st
We're on the plane home now. I told my parents I'm doing homework (luckily I'm sitting by my dad, not my mom, so she can't scream for the entire plane to hear, "Yay, you're writing in your diary!").
Guess what? Turns out the party last night was really fun. I met someone, and she's really cute.
It was really weird. I got to the party, right, and I was just sorta chillin', because I'm that kinda guy. There were some really screechy-sounding people singing a stupid karaoke song when I got there, and I was thinking 'yeah, this party sucks.' I was planning on leaving after the next song.
So, anyway. I was chillin', thinking about the wonderful, filling food I could be enjoying instead of at this stupid party, or the dreaming I could be enjoying, when this really bright light flashed in my eyes. I blinked a couple times, thinking, who the hell in their right mind would flash a light in a guy's eye at a young adult New Years Eve party?
And then I understood. I was being picked to sing karaoke.
Well, you see, I have never sang in public before. Never, in my entire life. I'm a basketball guy, not a singer.
But I was being pushed up, and, being the basketball superstar that I am, I decided to face the challenge like a man. I wasn't going to run away.
So I went up there, all determined and masculine, while they practically dragged my partner onto the stage. She had her arms around her – obviously very shy – and wasn't looking at me. So I decided to sing the first part.
She kept standing there, so when I was done singing, I started walking off the stage – when she started singing.
I thought it must've been the real song, because she sounded so good. I was really surprised that she would be so shy, you know, because of how good she was. But she obviously didn't know she was good, and that's where I decided to step in and help her.
By the way, she was really cute.
Anyway, it was totally fun singing with her. I started getting really into it, picking up the mic stand and singing into it like I've always wanted to do, and she finally loosened up all the way and actually took the mic off of its stand – I know, not that impressive, but hey, it was for her – and then at one point, I was singing really close to her and she fell off the stage. Well, not completely – the people in the audience pushed her back on. She looked pretty embarrassed, but I pretended not to notice.
And then after we sang we got hot chocolate and she got her purse and coat – even though it looked more like a scarf or something to me – and went onto the balcony, where it was pretty chilly.
She told me that she only did church choir and almost fainted when she tried the solo, which is still hard for me to believe. And then I told her that I sang in the shower.
Nice going, Bolton. Way to impress the girl.
Then it struck midnight and the fireworks started. I looked at her and she looked at me – yes, very cliché – and I noticed her lips looked a little cold. I considered being a gentleman and, you know, warming them up with my own. I remembered learning about friction in eighth grade. But before I had a chance to make friction with our mouths, her lips started moving, and I remembered a rule I'd learned from the movie Hitch: to always listen to the girl.
So I tuned in and heard, "...go find my mom and wish her a Happy New Year."
I didn't want to sound like a prude, so I said, "Yeah, me too. I mean, not your mom. My mom... and dad," even though I really didn't want to.
Then I was struck with a brilliant idea, and I said, "I'll call you! I'll call you tomorrow!"
And she was all "Yeah!" so we took each other's picture with our phones and entered our numbers in. I was saving her number and telling her how much fun I'd had singing her and asking her where she lived, but when I turned around she was gone. Just like that. Magic.
Gabriella. What a beautiful name.
Did I forget to mention her name? Well, it's Gabriella. And did I mention how attractive she is?
I couldn't sleep last night when I got back to our room, which was just a few minutes after midnight, because I kept thinking about her. I kept my phone on, just in case she decided to text me or something, before I remembered I said I'd call her. But I couldn't call her at one in the morning.
I stared at her number so much that I memorized it: 545-4569. I'm pretty crazy, huh?
Oh my God. I just realized this.
She didn't give me her area code!
Damn it.
Now I definitely can't call her and she can't call me, because I forgot to program my area code into her phone too! The only reason I could call her is if she had the same area code, which she probably doesn't.
I am so stupid.