A/N: New story, again.
The general plot of this story was the first ever High School Musical fantasy idea I ever had, way back in the day. (2006. Whatever.) But I never wrote anything on it. I decided to finally make a story based on it while reading GimmeABeat's story "What We Keep Hidden" which I just finished. It inspired me, because it's really good, but also it got me thinking about how all Troypay child stories always center around Sharpay struggling to raise the child on her own, while Troy's MIA. This story switches perspective on that.
So, I'm so horrible at making a good summary that's short enough for FF's restrictions. Here's the deal: If you want the full summary leave a review saying so, and I'll PM it to you. But, if you'd rather just wait and see how the story pans out, then you won't have to worry about me spoiling it in this A/N.
Troy Bolton smiled into the late afternoon sun. He sat on a park bench, his favorite park bench, alone, enjoying the peace and quiet. In his hands he grasped a dogeared paperback, the yellowing pages having been flipped through many times before. He was not reading it though, for the time being at least. Instead, he gazed at the playground, approximately thirty feet away from his current bench, watching with amusement as the wide eyed, uncoordinated small children that occupied it ran across the sand, climbing up slides, swing sets, and any other equipment they were able to ascend. Children never seemed to use playground equipment for their intended purposes, only using it to clamber around like monkeys.
One girl in particular seemed to have a real knack for acrobatics. Troy spotted her, just as she was climbing up onto the top bar of the highest swing set in the park. His heart hit his chest with a giant thud as she tottered while shifting from her knees, to standing on her feet. She was still bent over, as she grasped tightly to the wooden rectangular plank, giving herself a minute of composure to gain her balance. Troy realized with a start that she intended to stand up on the beam, and flashes of broken arms raced through his head as he jumped up, running towards the girl as fast as he could.
The bundle of children that had gathered underneath the swing set, appreciatively looking up at the girl, now backed away, as the full grown man invaded their domain. Troy jumped up on a plank situated horizontally between the two vertical bars that held up the left end of the bar the little girl still clung to. He snatched her off of the top of the swing set with his right arm, and jumped back down onto the ground. The child stared at him with her large blue eyes, surprised.
"Daddy!" she whined, looking down at the other children, that only seconds ago had been admiring her with unspoken awe. She frowned, embarassed, and looked back at Troy, "I would've been the first kid that's ever stood up there!" she exclaimed.
"Mckenzie, you could have gotten hurt. You know better." Troy set his four year old down on the ground, allowing her to walk on her own.
"Come on, now." he continued, "We need to get home and make dinner." He took her hand and led her towards the parking lot.
Troy drummed his fingers against the handle of his shopping cart, containing the groceries needed to prepare that night's dinner. Mckenzie stood by his side, never willing to degrade herself by riding in that little seat attached to the front of the buggy.
"Daddy, look." She tugged his jeans, and pointed at the cover of an issue of Cosmo magazine.
Troy stared at it for a minute.
"Uh huh." he replied with as much disinterest as he could muster. He frowned and adverted his eyes away from the woman's magazine.
"Can I get it?" Mckenzie asked when he didn't acknowledge the subject any further.
Troy knew she was going to ask for it. He frowned down at her.
"Please?" she pleaded, widening her baby blue eyes that matched his in shade for emphasis.
Troy nodded solemnly, then swallowed, turning away again as his daughter reached up to the shelf on the magazine stand where her desired issue stood on display.
"Daddy, what does in-spy-red mean?"
Troy sighed and looked up from the paper work he was attempting to do from the couch. Mckenzie had the magazine sprawled out on the central coffee table and flipped open to a spread, and was attempting to read the article on her own. She was very good at reading, for her age, but still, she occasionally came across words that looked foreign on the page, due to the fact that they were not featured in her preferred reads of and The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
"The word's 'inspired' Mckenzie." Troy answered.
"Oh." she stared back at the page for a moment, debating whether or not to ask him another question. She knew he tended to get irritated when she interrupted him while he was "working from home". She bit back the urge to ask for the word's definition.
After a few lapsed moments of silence, Troy looked over at his daughter, who was now tracing her finger lovingly over a photo, staring at it intensely. Troy was unable to resist stealing a look at what Mckenzie was so enthralled with and set down his papers. He walked over to her and knelt down behind her, staring at the professionaly shot photograph.
"Her hair's not really that color you know." He noted.
Mckenzie turned her head back to look at him, "It's not?"
"Mm mm." Troy shook his head, "A really really long time ago it was the exact same color as yours."
Mckenzie gathered some of her own long brown hair into her hand and looked at it with new appreciation.
"Why'd she change it?"
"Pretty girls don't always realize when they're pretty and so they do a lot of things to try and make themselves as beautiful as they already are." Troy explained.
"She used to have a little bump on her nose too." He recalled, "And I liked it. But she changed that too." He sighed.
"Did you tell her?" Mckenzie asked.
"Huh?" Troy looked down at his daughter, having briefly lapsed into his own world of memories.
"Did you tell her that you liked her nose, so that she wouldn't go and change it?" Mckenzie licked her lips and looked up at Troy with her innocent eyes. She still had the child mentality where there was a simple, easy to find solution to every problem, and it remained unfathomable as to why grown ups were never able to find these solutions.
Troy sighed again, "By the time she changed it, she didn't care about my opinion anymore."
He held out his hand, "Come on. It's time to get ready for bed."
Mckenzie sat, propped up against her pillows, snuggled underneath her white down comforter.
Troy walked into the room.
"You brush your teeth?" he asked her.
Mckenzie nodded in response and looked back at the magazine she still held.
"Why don't we go ahead and put that up now?" Troy suggested.
She shook her head, "I just want to look at it a minute more."
Troy gave in, and walked over to her, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
"She's beautiful." Mckenzie murmured, still running her small hand over the same photograph she'd been looking at earlier, a familiar longing in her eyes.
"Yeah." Troy stole a look at the picture for a minute, "She is. But it's not enough to beautiful on the outside. You have to be beautiful on the inside too."
Mckenzie looked up, "On the inside." she repeated.
Troy nodded.
"How do I get beautiful in there?" Mckenzie asked.
Troy leaned forward and kissed his daughter on the forehead, "Don't worry. You already are."
Mckenzie flipped the page, studying another photograph now.
"Did you love her?" she asked softly.
Troy stared at his hands. How many times did his daughter have to ask that same question and hear the same answer, before she was satisfied.
Still, he replied, "I did."
"Do you still love her?" Mckenzie asked. This was the question she never received an answer for.
Troy sighed, "It's time for bed Mckenzie."
"I love her." Mckenzie said, ignoring Troy's comment, "I love her real bad."
Troy smiled softly, "She loves you real bad too."
He placed his hands tentatively on the magazine, "Say goodnight." he instructed.
"M-uah." Mckenzie said softly, leaning forward and placing an affectionate kiss on the magazine picture.
Troy closed it and walked over to the box in the room where the other magazines, clipped out articles, and photographs were kept. He set it down inside.
"Good night Mckenzie." he walked over to his daughter again and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Good night Daddy." she kissed his cheek in return.
Troy walked out of the room, and turned off the light.
"Leave the door open a crack!" Mckenzie yelled routinely.
Troy complied, and then retreated back downstairs to finish his work.
He sat down at the round oak table in the kitchen, a pen and a blank sheet of paper set out in front of him. He had perfected a feminine script, and used it whenever he wrote these letters, dotting his i's with tiny hearts, and curling the ends of his y's and t's. His daughter had come to expect these letters weekly. Part of him felt guilty, for lying to his daughter, and for making her live on false hope, watching out the windows every day, waiting for those cherished visits.
There had been four actual visits, since Mckenzie was a baby, and the first two she couldn't even remember. But the other two had been sureal, fragile moments for Mckenzie, where she had stared with extreme hunger and deprivation at the woman Troy had once loved, too afraid to touch or kiss her, though she so badly wanted to. In return, Mckenzie was regarded in the exact same manner, and it was unsettling and painful for all involved.
After she had left more of the unnecessary gifts she occasionally mailed to Mckenzie free to of any personal message, she would be gone again, promising Troy she would be back much sooner the next time, and that she would actually stay for a longer visit, claiming it was always "work" that got in the way. Troy never touched her, or uttered many words to her, but instead would stand stiffly, uncomfortable, and stare her down harshly. She'd seem to shrink back underneath his merciless glare, but she'd always stand a minute before leaving, waiting for him so say anything. Sometimes, he could have sworn she wanted him to beg her to stay, but both of them knew that wasn't his responsibilty.
Then she'd be gone, out of their lives again for another year. Each time, the scar she'd left on their lives seemed to be reopened and cut deeper than the time before. Troy knew to really make Mckenzie let go of her, he shouldn't have started writing those ridiculous letters. But he'd just wanted to see her smile, see the love she held so greatly for the phantom figure in the magazines returned to her somehow.
So, when she was three, he began writing to Mckenzie, always signing the letters, Love, Mommy.
The worst part about playing along with the sharades, was when Mckenzie came up with the idea on her own to start writing back, with Troy's aid. Now he was faced with the challenge of tactfully ignoring all the painful questions that were written about her abandonment, while still trying to ensure love from the imaginary character he had invented to accompany the beautiful face that stared at his daughter through photographs.
A/N: Review please. :)
xoxo.