Thank you guys for the amazing response to the last chapter! I'm so glad that you like the beginning of this new story and I hope that you stay with me until the end!
Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical.
Enjoy!
Chapter Two: The Dreamer
As you pass through high school by the year, and I've noticed this significantly, in the first week of school you always feel like summer hasn't passed at all. You find some people you haven't seen at all in the past three months and others you saw practically every day. People broke up over the summer and others hooked up in the intense heat of Albuquerque. Either way, I've always felt like each year summers just feels shorter and that by the time you're a senior, you simply pick up the way you left off in June. Perhaps, in between your junior and senior year you're already thinking so much about it that you don't recognize when you've actually stopped being a junior and started being a senior.
In my case, I didn't feel any different. This year was about to change my whole life and I was numb to everything. I think maybe my feelings for Andrew sort of dulled out the stress that came with senior year. When I weighed out the pros and cons of getting over Andrew one night in summer, that fact was on the list. In order for me to successfully un-fall in love with Andrew, I need a distraction. That's why I picked my senior year- well, I didn't actually pick it. I just procrastinated this long. So, I figure college applications, graduation, senior prom everything would entertain my mind and steer it away from thoughts of Andrew.
Speaking of distractions, a week ago Emily Bolton told me that her brother loved me.
I couldn't take her seriously. Either that, or I didn't really want to take her seriously. First of all, the moment Emily said that; I could see why Troy treated like his little sister. She basically acted like she was an eight year old smarty pants running around in high school. Did she even think twice about telling me? Even if it was true; what could I do with that information? I didn't know Troy. Moreover, I have enough on my plate as of now. I can only take one boy trouble at the same time.
If you want to call that thinking about it, I did. The night of the first day of school, I came up with a list of reasons why Emily Bolton is completely insane and she shouldn't have told me this. The next day, I went to school with a plan to completely avoid her at all costs. We ended up not only spending passing times together but going out for lunch, too. Emily didn't bring up Troy again and I guess I was okay with that. But for those five days, every morning I would spend an extra moment observing Troy as he walked her towards me.
He didn't make eye contact once or say hello. Troy didn't even look at me the whole week. I didn't know in which dictionary this meant he loved me. He seemed completely uninterested in me. I was just another friend of his crazy sister's. And, if this was true then Emily really is a whole other realm of crazy. Why would she lie to me about her brother having a crush on me? Was it some weird way to gain friends at this school? Maybe Troy talked about everyone in school and I was the first one she laid eyes on.
Andrew wasn't much of a help. Mostly because I didn't look to him for help, though. If Andrew was helping with anything, it was breaking my heart. He nagged at me constantly to introduce him to Emily. He wanted me to talk about her and what she was like. In his mind, Emily was just as 'fucking amazing' as the first day of school.
Whenever he hinted anything about Emily, I would direct the conversation another way and talk about something else. Andrew, of course, didn't know that I was purposefully trying to dodge talking about her. For all he knew, I gained a sudden liking in my AP Psychology class because of all the random remarks I make about what Mr. Douglas, or Will is what he likes to be called, says in his intriguing lectures. That isn't misleading in any way. I truly do like Will's class but not enough to bring into a conversation just arbitrarily.
It's Friday, finally, the last day of the first week of school. The weather is just as scorching hot as it is in the middle of August and inside my house, the air conditioning is turned on. I relax into it as I walk in. Andrew asked me if we were still going to Sharpay's party this morning. In a daze, I said yes but now as the cool air kicked into my system, my heart wasn't pounding from Andrew's arm around my shoulder in the car and the lethargy that settled on me in the heat was gone, I didn't feel as up to it.
Sharpay's parties were terrifying. They were spectacular. But terrifying. Let's leave it at that. I wonder if Emily will be going. Even though I haven't quite figured her out yet, it's been nice having someone to talk to. Well, I guess I should just say: someone else to listen to. Again, Emily does a lot of the talking and me just the listening but she doesn't talk about what other girls do. She's not completely enthralled by Andrew, at least not yet, to rave on and on about how good looking he is. She doesn't talk about her boyfriends, or even other girlfriends from back at West High. The only actual person she talks about is Troy but he's only come up about three times, including the first day of school. She has opinions. And, I respect her for it. So, I grab my phone and text Emily the question.
After dropping my bag next to the coach, I collapse on it and turn on the television. It's 3 PM and I doubt anything good will be on. I land on the channel where General Hospital is playing. I groan. Soap operas: seriously not my thing. I like medical dramas like Grey's Anatomy or House and other mystery type shows like Bones or Body of Proof. On the other hand, Andrew loves just about every single comedy series on TV. In short, he thinks Neil Patrick Harris, Charlie Sheen and Steve Carell are Gods. The only show we can agree to watch is Friends. What can I say? He got me hooked. But now, three years later, we've watched each re-run so many times that we can repeat every joke Matthew Perry ever says.
"You're home!" my mother is walking around the corner of the living room doorway.
"Hey" I greet and flip another channel. My mother walks towards me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. She smells like hospital. I glance at her quickly and see she's still got her scrubs on.
My mother is an OB/GYN in the Women's Hospital here in Albuquerque. She praises herself to be a walking dictionary for women's diseases, disabilities and stresses. I've seen it in action, too, and although it's completely embarrassing; she's really good at it. Like, when she's picked me up from school she'll have some sort of diagnosis for every girl in the round-a-bout where most students wait for their parents. There was one time she went to a parent-teacher conference once and told my History teacher that she might want to check that mole that's forming on her shoulder. Turns out, it was an early sign on skin cancer. My History teacher was forever grateful and I got an A in the class so no harm done. Of course, my mother didn't go without seeing her again. They saw each other a couple times for coffee and sometimes for dinner. She started visiting a lot and in another three months, they announced that they were partners. You know, the gay kind. So now, my old history teacher is my other mother.
I knew my mother was lesbian before. She told me right after she divorced my father when I was 6. Of course, at that age, I had no idea what that meant but as I grew, I understood more and more. Andrew knows ,of course, because my mother has been his as much as mine but he has developed a sort of boyish idea of my lesbian parents. You can imagine what that's like.
"So, how was your first week of senior year?" asks my mother.
"Good, I guess. No different" I answer.
"Made any new friends?" she says again. She does this regularly, like a medical checkup. I think twice about telling her about Emily. There are two possible ways she might take this: 1.) she might think we're friends like any other high school scenario. 2.) she might think we're girlfriends, like the type that's 'exploring'. Lately, my mothers have gotten into a habit of asking questions. Well, they've kind of always had it but nowadays –maybe it's with the idea that I'm going off to college in a year- it's more serious. So, there's a high chance that they might think Emily and I are doing it.
It's funny though, I've been friends with Andrew so long they haven't doubted once that I might be in an 'exploring' relationship with him. Maybe they know that I've had a crush on him forever and don't have the guts to act on it. On the other hand, my mothers have already walked in on Andrew and I when we were 7 doing the whole 'If I show you my pee-pee, you show me yours". Perhaps, they thought after that we've probably already done it.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket. I turned over and reached into the fabric to slip it out. Emily texted back.
"Is that one of them?" asked my mother from the kitchen now.
"Yeah" I say and read the text. It says: Haven't thought about it. I sigh. That's a big help. I decide to just answer my mother instead. "She transferred from West High this year"
"And she's a senior?"
"Yep"
"What's her name?"
"Emily" I know she's asking for her last name but I want to think twice before I tell her this too.
Troy earned himself a reputation, being the boy with the motorcycle and all. It's ridiculous the way parents put all the teenagers into groups when they don't even interact with them like we do. But, still, Troy is the bad boy in all adult's eyes. In East High, we haven't judged him that far. He's just the mysterious boy but the parents made the final verdict. He was to be ignored at all costs by their children. Any interaction between their children and him is fatal.
I know my mother is waiting. She's just staring at me and I'm staring back. I bite my lip for a second and wonder if my mother is like the rest of them. Of course not. She must understand how people tend to assume things too quickly; what, with her marital status being another topic of discussion amongst the Albuquerque suburb adult barbeques that she and my other mother are never invited to. I decide it's not going to be harmless telling her but nothing I can't handle.
"Bolton" I finish. She raises her eyebrows. Oh no.
"Bolton?"
My silence confirms it for her and I can't see her immediate reaction. She might've developed this over the years but I can't really see past her face anymore. I used to, when I was young. I used to know when she hurt, when she was confused or angry. Not anymore. I have to wait until she says something else to actually see what she's thinking.
She scrunches her eyebrows, squints her lids and says, "Sounds familiar".
Well, that's not what I expected it, but I guess it'll do.
I text Emily again, So…no?
I only have to wait another thirty seconds for her reply. I can't. I'm a bit busy tonight.
For probably the hundredth time this afternoon, I sighed again. After flipping through channels once more and finding that nothing was on. I move slowly upstairs, dragging my feet and carrying along my bag with me. By the time I reach the top, my phone vibrates again but this time it's not Emily. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I read the name Andrew on my phone.
'Where are you? ' he sent me.
I send back, "At home, where are you?"
I walk forward and turn left into my bedroom. Then, I find out where he is. Not because he's texted me already but because he's lying on my bed looking up at me with his playful green eyes. I gasp and he chuckles. I want to climb in next to him and breathe in his scent from his chest and it takes all of me to stop myself. Instead, I sit beside my desk and turn on music from my laptop. Taylor Swift's Love Story rings from the speakers and Andrew grimaces
"Something else, please!" he begs. I laugh but I don't change it.
Before I know it, Andrew is singing the lyrics. He's bobbing his head ridiculously at the tune, definitely not wondering how pathetic he looks right now and I'm keeling over in laughter. He springs up and starts this awkward Egyptian dance. I'm singing along with him now, through my giggles. The chorus comes again and now Andrew has dragged me off the bed to join him. He is holding my hands and making small, quick steps all over my bedroom in a kindergartener's version of the waltz. He's making the most hilarious expressions to Swift's lyrics that I can't sing anymore.
The slow part struck in the song soon enough and Andrew let me take it away until the upbeat. We danced around my room like little kids. In the last fifteen seconds of the song, Andrew was holding me close with those green eyes of his, as gleeful as ever, staring down at me. My breath hitches and I dare to gaze into his eyes. I wonder, just for a moment, if he's thinking what I'm thinking at the moment. I'm thinking that I'd like to kiss him. I'm thinking it would go perfect with the song and the dancing. The moment opened itself up to it. I'm thinking that maybe this is my chance.
The last note of the song plays and silence takes over until If I Die Young by The Band Perry begins playing. This song is definitely not one that he wants to dance to. I realize, then, that he wasn't thinking the same thing. Andrew takes my hand and lets me follow him to the bed where we collapse, staring at the bed. There's a long silence. He's still grinning but I'm flustered, trying to sustain myself from the high that Andrew just gave me. My whole body is tingling and I'm trying to think of a way to show that I'm not feeling anything special.
My mouth blurts out the words before I stop myself. "Do you know anything about Troy Bolton?".
As soon as I say it, I regret it. Even if Andrew didn't know anything about Troy, he would find a way to lead this conversation to Emily. She was the last name I wanted to hear coming out of his mouth. Andrew turns is head with one eyebrow raised.
"Troy?" he asks me again. I nod slowly to confirm, hoping that he doesn't say anything more. "Only that he was on the basketball team in freshmen year"
I stare back up at the ceiling, not willing to ask anything more and just waiting for Andrew to bring up Emily. He doesn't though.
"Actually" he lifts himself up off the bed and swiftly walks towards my tall bookshelf. He ducks his head to the fourth shelf up and pulls out a book. A yearbook. I sit up as he joins me on the bed again and flips through the pages. The yearbook he is looking at is our freshmen one. I watch Andrew as he intently scans each page until I forget who he's looking for. I'm just lost in his dirty blonde hair and long eyelashes.
"Aha" exclaims Andrew. He shows me the book. "Wildcats basketball team went undefeated that season"
On the page, is a huge picture of Troy grinning from ear to ear with a trophy in his hands. I look at him, pretending to be interested. Then, I remember something.
"Wait, he was a freshmen, right? And he made the Varsity team?"
"Apparently"
"Wow" I say, realizing he must've been really good at basketball. "And he didn't play a season after that?"
"Nope"
"Why would he just quit like that?" I wondered out loud. Andrew was still looking at the statistics on the side of the picture of Troy where it showed all the games he played and what the score was. He seemed mesmerized.
"No idea" he mumbled. I watched as Andrew bit his lip and observed each picture of Troy playing basketball. His sudden interest in Troy made me scrunch my eyebrows.
"Makes you wonder right?" says Andrew suddenly. "How did this guy suddenly became motorcycle boy?"
Then, I look down at the images of Troy. Immediately, the thought donned upon me too. The fifteen- or sixteen- year old teenager in this picture definitely cannot be the motorcycle boy I've been observing in the past week. This boy is actually happy. There's delight in his eyes. Sweat made his boyish haircut stick to his forehead. I couldn't find a trace of the enigmatic young adult that we call Troy in this picture, yet it was definitely him. The yearbook committee wouldn't have made that grave of a mistake.
Today's Troy had hair that was cut short and smoothly pointed upwards in the front. He wears his black leather jacket to school every day as if he doesn't perspire in that thing at all. He wears jeans too, mostly dark wash. I've never seen him in leather pants. He doesn't make eye-contact. He didn't represent the boy in this picture at all. He seems like a completely different person. A man, of course, now that he's grown up but Andrew is the same age and he still acts like a twelve year old sometimes.
"Anyway" Andrew slams the boy shut and I jump out of my thoughts. "Party later?" his eyes come up to mine.
I scrunch my eyebrows again, now in a more reluctant look. "I don't feel like it" I reply.
Andrew doesn't think before he says, "Me neither. How about we just stay home and watch a movie tonight?"
Instantly, my heart is in the air. It's probably been weeks since he's wanted to stay in on a Friday night.
"Sounds great" I manage through my utter pleasure.
"Alright" says Andrew, standing up. "Well, I'll just go and check in with mi madre and come back later tonight, say like 7 or so?"
I'm amused at what is probably the only Spanish word he knows. I glance at the clock. It's already 4:30. Just two and a half hours until I'll be in heaven the rest of the night.
"Okay" I tell Andrew. He takes the balcony-way down. "You know, we do have a front door" I say once he reaches the ground. He looks up at me and grins.
"Front door? Where?"
Finally, 7 PM came around and Andrew arrived back in my room while I was reading a novel on my bed. My mothers were informed that he was coming over and they agreed to not disturb us. My night was literally and completely utter bliss. Andrew had his arm around me the whole night, through all the three movies that he insisted we watch and the episode of Grey's Anatomy that I wanted to see. Andrew dozed off at the beginning. I fell asleep about ten minutes after him. We both woke up though at the end when the credits rolled across the screen in a position I don't remember we slept in. Andrew stood up and stretched like I've seen him do a thousand times before he left for his house in the middle of the night.
"Well, I'm off" he said to me and I saw him to the door.
"Drive safe" I tell him for the first time ever now that he's actually got a car and he's not taking the twenty minute walk back to his house.
He waves at me without looking and I give him a smile even though he can't see me too. With a yawn, I go upstairs where my cozy bed is welcoming me.
Today was good. Really good. I remember Andrew's scent and his strong chest holding me. I remember his light snore when he slept and being wrapped up in his arms when we woke up together. As I drift off into a sweet slumber, I think I'm going to dream of Andrew tonight.
But, I don't. I actually dream of Troy.