There's a man dying on the side of the road.
His whole skeleton rattled as his body smashed onto the pavement. He was dying, he knew he was. Blood seeped from his ear, and dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. It was his fault, he knew it was. He'd been talking on his cell phone. Living on the edge, he'd always done it. The wheels ripped against the ground, pushing the car to faster and faster speeds, he was late. He'd swerved to avoid a cat. He hit a barrier. He'd been thrown face first out of his front window. At the ripe old age of 16 and six months years old. People scurrying along the street, stopped and stared. It was a lost cause to help. He was already dead. Then suddenly, a tall blonde girl emerged from the throng, shoving the crowd from her path. It was Sharpay.
"Troy, Troy, please don't die!" She whimpered, taking the back of Troy's head in her soft hand, cupping it gently. A tear dripped from the side of her eye, landing on Troy's chest. He was gasping for breath, chest rattling with every shake inhale. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping the blood away, praying with every morsel of her being to beg God to keep him alive. They weren't dating, they were best friends. If he died, what was she going to do?
Won't make it there tonight.
He was dying for Gabriella. Her sweet sixteenth birthday had been his cause for rushing, for speeding, for not looking where he was going. Sharpay had been headed there herself, tottering as she ran in her spiky silver heels. More tears spilled over her mascara-ed eyelids, forming dark blue rivulets down her sculpted cheeks. Her teeth chattered, suddenly cold despite the warmth of Gabriella's summer birthday. A larger crown had gathered, all watching in awed silence as the girl ran her hands over the boys colder-growing body, making heat, trying desperately to keep him warm, keep him alive. The car lay littered in the background, each window with lines forming a pop-art pattern where the impact had hit. It was lying on one side; if Troy had still been in there he would have been crushed. All because he was stupid enough to answer his damn cell phone.
He was driving fast on his cellular phone,
Coming out of his summer job, he laughed as he left the building and grappled for his keys in his pocket. They were keys to a black Cherokee jeep, a gift from his father on his sixteenth birthday. Jamming his keys hurriedly into the ignition, he started up the car and tore out of the parking lot, swinging the rear of the car along behind him as he sped out onto the street. His phone began ringing in his glove compartment; an annoying tune Chad had sent him as joke a number of years ago. Everyone he knew was at Gabi's house. It had to be work. Checking the road was clear before he leant over; he leant across the seat and struggled with the handle. Then a scream rang through the air. Returning upright quickly, he saw a girl, only about six or seven years old, screaming with her arms out. There was a cat in the middle of the road. Spinning the wheel to avoid it, he closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. In his shock, he'd spun the wheel so far to avoid the small feline; he turned the car completely 90 degree's. Right into the barricade.
That's how he lived his life.
He had lived a full life, he was glad of that. At four, he'd picked up his first ever basketball and been pulled into a grappling hug by his father. At ten, he won his class science fair, and at 15 his life had begun. He had met the amazing girl he had been on his way to see today. He sang for thousands of people, he'd won the championships for his team, and he was happy.
And while he was hangin' by a thread
Sharpay had begun to lose hope; she knew there was nothing she could do anymore. No matter how quickly she ran her hands over him, she couldn't stop his bleeding. A dark spot was seeping through his jeans. She gently rolled the cuff of his jeans up lightly. The skin of his calf had peeled of, and rolled back like the edge of old paper, exposing the raw pink and red flesh underneath. Troy didn't have the energy to lift his head and see what was causing the traumatized teenage girl to gasp. Her brow furrowed in sorrow, she leaned in towards Troy's talking mouth.
These were the final words he said
He was gasping something, voice becoming shudderier with every syllable. Her hand was resting lightly over his heart. Now, Troy couldn't see anything, though his eyes were open. Crushing pains filled his chest and stoumach, he was going, he knew that he was. And his only regret was that he would never see Gabriella again. Never hear her laugh, or see her smile, or taste the sweetness of her lips. He would never again smell her trademark honeysuckle and Charlie No. 5. Breathing out, he managed to stutter...
My girl turns sweet sixteen today,
"Why did this happen on her birthday. What's she going to do?" He whimpered one hand on his chest. Sharpay's eyes watered uncontrollably, washing some of the blood from his face.
"You didn't want this to happen Troy. Nobody could ever blame you." She comforted, laying her head on his. "She will never blame you. She loves you so much, she couldn't ever think a bad though to you." Mucus ran unattractively down her lips, but she was too busy to even notice it, never mind wipe it away.
She's beautiful, so beautiful.
"She's so beautiful," Troy cried, tears rolling. He wasn't afraid of dying; he was scared of leaving Gabriella alone, all alone. "So beautiful," He wept, without the strength to wipe the tears or blood away. The old Sharpay would have been aggravated that he didn't find her most attractive, but even she knew now that they were in love. Deep, meaningful, truthful love. And even her astounding looks could not shake a romance that deep. Gabriella's beautiful Latina face, her womanly curves, her slanted eyes that looked like they held a million thoughts. That was the part that scared Troy most. He was never going to see them again.
It might get rough sometimes
Another thought came to his weakening mind. How was she going to keep strong. She was a sweet, caring soul, but Troy just didn't know whether Gabriella was resilient enough to deal with it. They had plans, they were going to move to Nevada, start a family. Four children, two boy and two girls, one dog, one cat and a fish. They perfect fairytale life for the perfect fairytale couple. But fairytales don't include the ghosts of long dead boyfriends coming back to their still living woman. These thoughts made Troy defiantly try to hold on and keep living, for Gabriella's happiness, not his. Each breath took him one step nearer to staying with her, to having a family.
But I hope she keeps her faith
Deep in his heart he knew he was fighting a lost battle. He'd lost to much blood, his lungs were too damaged. The only thing he could think of was to watch over Gabriella. She had to keep her spirit, she just had too. If she didn't when she died hopefully a long, long time from now, they still might not see each other once more. Gabriella needed to keep going to Church, keep her Virgin Mary statue by her bed, a pray every night before she crept into sleep. She needed to pray that Troy was safe. She needed to pray to live a long and fruitful life, and have a great lobs and lots of babies with a wonderful man. And the most important one; she had to pray that they would see each other again, at her first step through the golden gates of heaven. Troy knew that if he could, he would be her guardian angel, and make sure each one of those wishes came true.
I wish I grabbed a chance to say to her
In his final moments, his shoulders felt heavy with grief. He had never appreciated her, never loved her the way he should. Troy had loved her with every dimension of his heart, but he was too much of a tough guy, too absorbed in his tough-guy exterior to let her know she was his only. Right now, he wished so hard he could go back and say he loved her with all his heart, so hard he felt like his whole body was exploding with dying effort. It was no use. It was impossible.
Life is too short so take the time and appreciate.
It was only now that he realised his mistakes and wished he could turn back. That life was so short that you don't always have time to wait around for things. That sometimes you just have to go out on a limb and say what you feel. Sharpay had a hand over her mouth. The spaces between each of Troy's breaths were becoming wider. Now she knew he didn't have much time left. She could hear faint ambulance bells in the distance. Twisting her neck to see who it was, she gave every onlooker a trademark icy glare. He was going to die whether they got here or not. She didn't want them clattering around with electric pads and stretchers. All she wanted was to be alone, just to let him make the transition to heaven in peace.
"Shar," he gasped. "Here," He said, clamping a small, dark blue, velvet trinket box into her hand. Her own fingers wrapped protectively around it. She knew who it was for. And with one final shuddery breath, Troy Michael Jack Bolton died, and passed on to the next world.
Sharpay jumped up and ran, violently pulling of her silver heels and burning the soles of her feet on the scalding ground.
There's a girl crying on the kitchen floor,
Taylor's knees hit the hard tiles, but her brain didn't register the pain. The only pain she could feel was the pain ringing through her heart. The telephone hung limply by its cord, and she couldn't care less. Her friend, one of her closest friends, dead. On her best friends birthday. It couldn't be happening, yet the hospital had ringed Gabriella's house and said it had. Her lisp trembled and clamped down onto her inner bottom lip. She tried desperately to hold back giveaway cries, and let single, quiet tears drip all down her face. After the initial shock, the only person in her mind was Gabriella. She felt like someone had just ripped out part of her heart and jammed it into her throat. But however bad it felt for her, it was going to hurt five-million, million times more to Gabriella.
She got a call tonight.
How could the hospital make calls like this everyday, everyday telling people their best friend, brother, father, sister, uncle, boyfriends, were dead. How could that damn bastard do this like it was mandatory, like it meant nothing to them? The rational part of her brain told her; because to them, this was mandatory. People did die everyday, and someone always had to make that dreaded phone call. But the irrational, emotional part of her mind didn't want to here. That part of her brain just wanted to let her lie here and cry. Irrationality won out.
Now she's trembling outside her best friend's door
She had been quivering outside Gabriella's door for the past ten minutes. No one else was home. Silent tears dribbled down her face, but she forbade herself from making a single sound. She didn't want Gabriella to be in pain any earlier that she needed be. Suddenly, Sharpay burst in via the front door, panting and with a mixture of spit, mucus and salty tears washing over her face. Immediately, Taylor knew Sharpay knew. It took one look shared between the girls. Sharpay ran towards her, wrapping her arms around the others neck. There, they sat, crumpled on the ground, weeping silently. It took several minutes for the girls to compose themselves enough to stand, and they both stood immobilised outside Gabriella's door, waiting for the time to come.
Walks in and holds her tight
Despite the desperate efforts to stay silent for as long as humanly possible, when they entered Gabriella's room, they burst into long suppressed loud sloppy tears, and walked across the room quickly, gripping Gabriella tight, each willing each other silently to tell her the awful truth. Her boyfriend was dead. Eventually, Sharpay stood looking at her, and wept to her the story.
Wondering how and where to start
"He's dead, Gabriella," Those were the only words she heard. After that, her brain shut down, she couldn't see or hear them talk or cry, all she could do was stand still, shaking with sorrow, as her heart silently exploded with pain. She bit her lip back, not to stop herself from crying, but to keep herself from screaming out loud in agony. It was not in her mind. She was physically in pain; every organ in her body seemed to just stop, leaving her gasping for air. A few moments later, she drew in a single, painful breath, and shoved Taylor and Sharpay out of her way. She ran and didn't stop, ignoring the pain in her feet on the burning ground, and how foolish she looked in her silk nightdress. The moment she stopped, clinging onto the gates of East High, the clouds opened up and rain showered her. To herself, alone on the dark, damp sports field, she couldn't ignore a though that this, this was a gift from Troy. Just for to, to say that's he is aright, that he made it just fine. Throwing her head back to the clouds, she screamed to the very heights of her soul;
"Why him, God, he was perfect. Take me instead. Please," she sobbed and shouted at the same time, no caring who heard or what they thought. All strength seemed to be washed from her with the rain. She fell, wondering how her life could be snatched from her so quickly, and lay, weeping in the mud, for hours.
Is there a way to shield her heart?
The willow above his grave stood towering above them both, Troy lying in the ground, Gabriella standing elegantly in black as the wind whipped her shoulders. Tears escaped her eyes once more. Smiling through the tears, she fell to her knees and put a hand to the headstone, and the other on her stoumach.
"Thank you Troy, thank you for staying," She whispered, 7 months after his death. Her stoumach felt taunt in her hand. Of course her parents disapprove, but she would rather die in young labour than lose anymore of Troy. Casting her eyes to the sky, she looked to the heavens and silently thanked. The day after his passing, she knew he had come back, it felt like a piece of her heart had reappeared. Touching a single fingertip to her stomach that morning she knew, it was a gift. A God-sent gift from Troy. It was a miracle.
