Author's note: Well, I'm glad I got a good response to the changes in the first chapter! Here's the second chapter, but first, I'm going to address some reviews.
AMsynchronicity I'm really glad you told me how you felt about my writing of the Lord's name. I appreciate that you told me, and I took it into consideration for a while. The thing is, teenager's do say the Lord's name in vain, and I can't change that. I want to make my characters as close to reality as I can— without making them boring— and it's a religious belief of mine not to write out the Lord's name, so I will continue this, and I'm sorry it irks you. I hope it doesn't discourage you from still reading my story.
camibear Ha, yes, I felt that Troy needed a caring parent, so I gave up Lucy to niceness. It was a happy change for me. I like the story more with her nice. As for what she does, well, I can't tell you that! Haha, sorry! And as for using Kelsi, I don't know. I felt we didn't see a lot of her, and I knew Gabriella showed up more in the story, so I figured,let's just use Kelsi. Haha, no real reason behind it other than that!
Anyway! Let's get reading! This is a short chapter.
Chapter 2
"Good try!" Troy shouted to his panting and heaving team.
They were just ending a particularly awful practice: Chad and Jason had collided, messing up the entire play, making Bill Morrison trip over them and sprain his ankle, Zeke had tried doing the wrong play eight times and gotten everyone confused to the point of screaming at Troy, and Troy felt so raw that he could hardly move without wincing in pain.
And he still had the suicides to look forward to.
"Why don't we—um…" He could hardly voice that he wanted to throw the practice to his tired but trying team, so he turned to Chad and asked desperately, "Any suggestions?"
Chad shrugged in defeat. "Let's just scrimmage."
"We only have red jerseys," Zeke noted, scanning the sea of sweaty teenage boys.
Troy fidgeted nervously and added, "And mine's green." He tugged at the edge of his shirt anxiously.
"How about shirts versus skins?" Jason shrugged. "Troy can just be skins?"
Troy felt his stomach back flip as the team muttered their agreement. He let Chad assign teams, and everyone dashed to opposite ends of the gym to eagerly start their game. They all loved basketball, but sometimes it was nice to relax and have a little fun. Scrimmage did just that for them.
"Come on, Troy!" Jason shouted, tossing his jersey onto the floor beside the bleachers. "We can't play without you!"
Troy felt his heart beat wildly in his chest. He searched for a plausible excuse and came up with, "Actually, I have to finish up my suicides. You guys go ahead. I'll come when I can."
He then ran over to the far side of the gym and began his long set of suicides, wondering vaguely how his tired body would be able to keep up with the strenuous effort. He ran back and forth across the gym, his chest heaving. By the time he had reached over half them, he collapsed onto the floor heavily.
Chad called the practice, and the team ran madly to the locker rooms, cheering out their school spirit. Zeke, Chad, and Jason were the only ones left behind. The three friends jogged over to Troy who looked asleep on the cold floor of the gym. His eyes were closed, and his chest was moving to a steady beat as it tried to balance the wild beating of his heart.
Without opening his eyes, he said, "I should probably finish up those suicides." Troy pulled himself off the floor with great effort but then faltered from exhaustion. Chad's quick hands caught Troy as he wavered, and Troy hastily recovered himself by saying, "Thanks… um…"
Chad noticed by now that without his help, Troy could hardly stand on his own. He and his friends shot worried glances at each other, and Chad helped Troy to sit on the bleachers. "How many have you done?"
"Forty-nine."
"I'll finish them up for you," Chad offered, picking up a stray water bottle and handing it over to Troy, who took it gratefully and didn't bother to ask whose it was before greedily drinking its contents.
"Yeah," Jason agreed quickly.
"We'll all do them," Zeke said, shooting a worried glance at Troy.
"Nah," Troy said after finishing his drink. He took a deep breath before saying, "I think that the water helped but thanks anyway."
He tried to stand but found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Troy looked over at his friends and shrugged, hoping they would leave him alone. He gave a grunt of pain and pushed himself off the bleachers only to be caught by Zeke's strong hands.
"Dude, we can handle seven suicides," Chad said as Zeke lowered Troy back onto the wooden bleacher. "You're working yourself too hard."
"No, I'm really not," Troy said. "Come on, guys, it's a few suicides."
"You know, both Kelsi and Gabriella said you haven't slept a lot," Zeke said.
"Besides, you've been running yourself ragged all practice. Just give yourself a break," Jason said. Troy opened up his mouth to reply, but Chad cut him off, putting a hand on hisfriend's shoulder.
"Just relax a bit."
Troy smiled weakly as his friend began running across the gym. As soon as they had reached out of his range he muttered a very grateful, "Thanks," before nodding slowly off to sleep.
Chad signaled to his friends as he saw Troy drift to sleep. They all had the same looks etched across their faces: worry. Troy had never been so forgetful, and he had also never been so… feeble. It wasn't like him to stay out of a scrimmage no matter how many suicides he had to do. He was the energetic Troy Bolton! He knew no break. Zeke gently prodded Troy's sleeping form and whispered, "Wake up, Troy. Come on, we have to go shower."
Troy's eyelids barely fluttered open, and he lifted his head towards his friends. "Whazgoinon?" he asked sleepily. The friends chuckled and helped him off the ground. They then slowly made their way to the locker rooms, half-carrying Troy down the halls. As soon as they made it in the correct locker section, they laid Troy on the metal bench so he was back down with one leg in a V shape on the bench, the other dangling onto the floor and one arm laid across his chest with the other's knuckles just barely brushing the cold ground. "I hate my life!" Troy moaned jokingly through his laughter. His friends laughed as they spun the locks on their lockers.
"Then sleep some more, man," Zeke said, pounding a fist on his locker door and smiling as it popped open. "I mean, seriously, there isn't a law that says you're only allowed to sleep four hours a night."
"I know," Troy said with a sigh. He rested his arm over his eyes to shield them from the bright light on the ceiling. He had gotten this talk many times before. He knew just what they were going to say, and they knew just what he was going to say in return. The fight was futile, but they always attempted it.
"So maybe you should think about getting to sleep earlier?" Chad suggested, grabbing a tee shirt out of his locker. Troy shrugged.
"Yeah, I will."
"And maybe leaving school earlier?" Jason added. "You know, and come later?"
Troy nodded, eyes and half his face masked by the arm shielding it. "Will do."
"Troy, are you even listening to us?" Chad asked.
"I will," Troy said out of rote. Zeke, Jason, and Chad threw various items from their lockers at Troy, the heaviest of them being Chad's ever-present basketball. "Ow, what the hell?" Troy asked, sitting upright and rubbing his head with his hand. "I'm just agreeing with you!"
"You aren't even listening to a word we're saying!" Zeke exclaimed. Troy rolled his eyes.
"Do I even have to anymore?" he asked. "Let me guess. Chad said something about going to bed earlier." Chad didn't make a sound. "Zeke, you said something about no one stopping me from going to bed earlier, and Jason, you said something about spending less time at school." No one said anything. Troy laughed and laid back down on the bench. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Oh, come on, man, we just want to help out," Chad said defiantly.
"Of course you do."
"You aren't listening anymore, are you?"
"No, really, I'll try doing what you guys ask."
"Troy, you suck."
Troy stumbled and fell to the ground heavily. Immediately, he became scared. This was one of those times, one of those times when he was sober (as if that wasn't a miracle in itself) when Jack would hurt him. To Troy, these were the worst. Not that they hurt the most, but only because he had nothing to fall back on. He couldn't excuse his dad's cruelty on alcohol. It was just Jack being uncaring, unkind, evil.
He flipped himself over quickly so that he was facing his father, for he never knew what to expect when his back was turned. Jack slammed the door shut and faced his son angrily, saying, "Where the hell were you?"
Troy gulped and shook his head, using his hardly responsive limbs to propel himself further away from his livid father. "I-I didn't mean—"
Jack stared at his son, anger blaring in his eyes, "You didn't even call me! You didn't tell what you were doing!"
"I was at school!" Troy interjected desperately. "I was just at practice late running suicides. I didn't—"
"That's not an excuse, Troy," Jack said, shaking his head gravely. "I'm sorry, but you know what I have to do."
Troy's mind went into a frenzied haze, remembering the times he had done other wrongs. Remembering the time that he hadn't cleaned his room or when he had come home past curfew. Remembering when he had spoken back or broken things in the house. And the only thing that could enter his mind was the flash of a silver belt buckle as it whipped through the air and smacked with a sickening thump on his very own back. Troy gulped and spoke in a shaking, pleading voice.
"Dad, please. No."
"Stand up, Troy."
