Stupid Basetball.
By Katie
Pairing: Troyella
Rating: K+
A/N: Basically, this is just a random idea I got. I know that you should avoid introducing yourself in stories, but I just felt that it fit well in this story. And I know that Vanessa's mostly Filipino, but I decided to make her mostly Mexican in this story. So deal.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I owned basketball, though...that would be SCHWEET.
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Gabriella's Blog
August 7th, 2025
first entry: my life
The Top Ten Reasons My Life Sucks Right Now:
-I gained three pounds this week. It couldn't be from eating McDonald's for dinner every night this week, right?
-My best friend is getting married and she chose her sister as her maid of honor. She HATES her sister!!
-I have a huge zit right above my nose that hurts really bad, and I can't pop it because it's one of those non-poppable zits.
-My worst enemy just got promoted and is now my boss.
-All we have in the house to eat is chocolate cake. And mayonnaise. And a few dill pickles. Plus a bottle of Zima. You know, that weird beer that women drink? How the heck did that stuff get in my refrigerator in the first place?
-Fabi (short for "Fabulous"), my dog, isn't eating. I think she might be sick...God, I hope not. She's the only thing I have left!
-My husband is traveling with his stupid basketball team around the stupid country.
-My cable is out, meaning I can't watch my husband play basketball. I only have three channels! The CW, one of those Public Access channels, and...(shudders) re-runs of Dr. Ruth.
-My husband may or may not be cheating on me with one of those basketball groupies. I wouldn't know...he hasn't called me in three days. Well, I mean, I think the point of an affair is not telling your partner about the affair, so, even if he did call me he probably wouldn't mention a very chesty basketball groupie he just happened to be...okay, you get the point.
-My husband hasn't called me in three days, and I miss him...alot.
Well, hello there. My name is Gabriella Anne Bolton (I prefer Gabriella or Gabi, however). I'm twenty five years old, and I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My husband's name is Troy, and he plays for the Albuquerque Suns (that's a basketball team, for those of you civilians who haven't heard about the greatest team in the NBA...okay, so maybe I'm a little biased). I have a dog named Fabulous, but I call her Fabi. My friends rag on me all the time. Gabi and Fabi, the dynamic duo.
I swear, I didn't mean for my dog's name to resemble mine.
Let's see...my favorite color is blue, like my husband's eyes. My favorite food is my mother's empanadas. I'm a Biology teacher at East High School (mine and Troy's alma mater). My birthday is December 14th. My anniversary is on December 31st (don't ask why I chose New Years' Eve, because it's a way long story).
I have black hair that I recently cut, just for a change of pace. I have brown eyes. I'm mostly Mexican, but within that I'm Filipino, Chinese, American Indian, and (believe it or not) Irish. I'm about 5'4, and I don't feel at liberty to tell you my weight. Honestly! Nosy people!
However, none of those random facts will make you see the real problem.
And the real problem is that I miss my husband more than words. I feel a little bit better, though, because-
Oops, sorry, the phone's ringing. Just hold on a few minutes...
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Gabriella's Blog
August 9th, 2025
whoa.
Um, can I just say I'm sorry I left you guys on a cliffhanger? I just read that last entry and I'm thinking right now, "WHAT a crab!". You remember that phonecall? Well, it turns out it was more than just a little phone call. I'm going to start from the very beginning.
(two nights ago...my retelling.)
Part One
As I removed my fingers from the keyboard, and walked over to the telephone, I thought that it would be Taylor calling to tell me I wasn't even in her wedding party anymore...her stupid sister had taken the place of the rest of her three bridesmaids.
I was wrong.
"Hello?" I picked up the phone, trying not to sound bored. "Gabi! Hey!" I heard Troy's voice, and I got this little happy quiver in the pit of my stomach. It was Troy! He was still alive. I was feeling pretty happy, until I realized he hadn't called me in three days. "Who is this?" I spat into the reciever, making it perfectly clear that I was ticked. "It's Tr-Oh, wait. Look, I know I haven't called in a while, but we were at this really horrible hotel in Phoenix, and they only had pay phones. Well, pay phones that didn't actually work." Troy said, and I knew he meant it. "You haven't been fooling around with groupies, have you?" I asked, sounding a little childish.
"Groupies? Gabriella, Chad and I have stayed in our hotel rooms every night playing Euker." Troy laughed a little, and I heard Chad in the background shouting, "Is that Gabi? Is Taylor with her?!". "Alright. Wait a minute, don't you have your cell phone? Couldn't you have called me on that?" I retorted, still a little miffed. "Yeah, because there's great reception in the middle of the desert. Trust me, Coach went cheap with the hotel this time. We just got into the city, and my cell finally has reception. Thank God." Troy said, his voice a little indignant. "Okay, okay. I believe you. It's just...I hate being away from you all the time. It's just not fair." I pouted.
I can't remember ever being such a wuss.
"There's only two more weeks left of our summer tour, and then I'll be home, and I won't have to play anymore basketball for four more months. I'm getting tired out here, and I can't wait to be back at home and in our bed, with you lying beside me." Troy said softly, and I melted. Troy knows all the right things to say, and he means every word. I know he does.
I was almost in tears at this point, but I decided that Troy had to deal with me bawling hysterically on the phone enough. "Why are you so perfect and say everything I want to hear?" I simpered, sighing dreamily. "It's a gift." Troy replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I love you, Troy Bolton." I giggled in a school-girl fashion. "I love you, Gabriella Bolton. But I gotta get going. I'm at the airport." Troy sighed. I groaned; "Okaaaay. Love you."
"Love you more." I heard him say, and then a dial tone.
Part Two
So it was a normal day the next day. I got up, ate some cereal, fed (or tried to) Fabi, and then went off to my...err...summer job. As a teacher, I get the summers off. And my job this summer is as a check-out girl at Wal-Mart. It's not so bad. I work the 9 am-5 pm shift. Then this teenager (one of my students, actually...ironic isn't it?) takes over, and I get to go home.
I had barely gotten through the door when I heard the TV going, and Fabi barking. I assumed that it was a burglar. I was having a major panic attack, and grabbed an umbrella that was sitting by the coat rack. "Who's there?" I demanded, my voice shaking a little. I heard footsteps, and had my umbrella poised in the air.
"Boo!" the person yelled. "Aaaaah!" I screamed, the umbrella dropping to my feet. The person doubled over laughing. This person had sandy brown hair, and sparkly blue eyes. Troy!
"Troy! You jerk! Wait...what are you doing here?" I gaped, surprised to see him. "Coach let Chad and I go home early, what with our constant complaining. He said he normally wouldn't be this lenient, had we not been moping all the time. I decided to surprise you." Troy grinned, his eyes glittering with excitement. "Remind me to give that coach a huge kiss the next time I see him!" I cried, throwing my arms around Troy's neck.
Obviously a bone-crushing bear hug didn't satisfy Troy. His lips captured mine in a tender kiss, one of those kisses that makes you lift your foot and see little flashes of light. When we broke away, he was smirking. "But you obviously don't need my protection. I mean...burglars would definitely be terrified of you and your umbrella and your tiny little pug. I know I'd be!" he laughed a little, and I smacked his shoulder.
"Well, I don't exactly keep baseball bats lying around my house, much less spare husbands!" I stuck out my tongue.
And that leads us up to now.
Fin.
So, as you can see, I've been rather busy the past day and a half. Doing...things. That I can't imagine are appropriate to mention in a blog.
Au revoir! Troy's putting in Out Of Africa with Glenn Close and Robert Reed. It's the most boring movie ever. So Troy and I end up muting the movie and end up on the couch, with our limbs at very compromising angles and our lips locked together.
Have I mentioned it's one of my favorite movies ever?
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So, what'd you guys think? I love writing Gabriella a little OOC and with a dry sense of humor. :p