n0t3: Finally it's March 2nd!
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Title: Picture Perfect
Rating: T
Author: mylifeismine
Summary: Gabriella's being followed, so she does something drastic in order to save her son. She hands it over to the father. Troy Bolton. The NBA star must find Gabriella, though. Life or death. An easy statement, not easy to accomplish though. Troyella.
Genre: Mystery/Suspense
Length: Story

Chapter One- The Will
Twenty-four years old NBA star, Troy Bolton was sitting in front of his television at his Beverly Hills house, munching on chips.

He reached for the remote, as he drank some of his Coke.

He leaned back, as he switched the channel, hoping to find something better to watch than soap operas, and stuff that weren't even in English.

A gigantic picture of his ex showed up on the screen, and Troy choked on his drink.

He sat up straight, as he listened to the news about Gabriella Montez.

"Gabriella Montez's car had gone up in flames two days ago. Police has finally released the information that the fire wasn't a normal fire. And have claimed her dead," the reporter said, as he stood somewhere near the burnt car.

"Bystanders claims that he car had gone up in flames at precisely four o'clock," a policewomen claimed.

"It's a real tragedy. She had been such a thoughtful woman," a friend said.

"Details on how the fire occurred has not been released, but the police are searching for the answers to everyone's questions," the reported said, "I'm Robert Jones. Now back to you, Tom."

Troy sat there frozen, his drink still in his hand, and the remote in the other.

His ex-girlfriend was dead.

Dead.

That couldn't be true.

It couldn't.

"Emma!" Troy yelled for his maid, as the doorbell rung.

When there was no response, Troy remembered that Emma had gone to the grocery store.

He got up, and put the stuff in his hands on to the coffee table in front of him, and went to open the door.

He pulled open the door to see a cop, who was holding hands with a little boy, and some guy in a black suit, holding a suitcase.

"Hello Mr. Bolton."

"Hello," Troy said uneasily, "Can I help you?..."

"May we come in?" the guy in the suit asked politely.

"Erm, sure," Troy said, letting the three people in.

They were all seated in the same room that Troy had been in, and the boy was watching some kiddie channel that Troy had never known about.

The guy in the suit, opened his suitcase, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"According to Ms. Montez's will, you are in charge of Nicholas Troy," the guy looked up, and stared at Troy for a second, then looked back on the sheet and said awkwardly, "Bolton.?"

Troy's face twisted with amusement.

"Just sign here, and we'll be gone," the guy asked, handing Troy a form, and a pen.

Troy scribbled his signature, and led the two guys out of his house.

"Oh yeah, and here's a note that's suppose to be given to you."

Troy took the note, and closed the door behind them.

"That was weird," Troy thought.

Troy pushed speed dial on his cell phone.

"What's up, dude?"

"Hey, Chad. Did you see the news?" Troy asked.

"...No. I don't watch the news..."

"Gabriella died."

"Huh?"

Troy got impatient, "You know? Gabriella Montez?"

"Oh yeah. What about her?"

"She's dead."

"And how would you know that?" Chad asked.

"TV."

"How'd she die?" Chad asked.

"Car accident," Troy asked, turning on the kitchen TV, and turning the channels with the remote.

"Car crash?"

"Turn to channel 51," Troy said, as the news repeated itself.

Minutes passed by with silence, except for the voice from the television.

When the next news came on, Troy said, "Guess who's at my house."

"Gabriella?"

"No. Her son."

"I didn't know she had a son."

"Neither did I," Troy said, as he went to check up on Nick.

Nick was staring at the television.

"Gotta go," Chad asked.

"'Kay. See you tomorrow," Troy said, then hanging up.

Troy cleared his throat.

Nicholas looked over at him.

"Um, what do you want for dinner?" Troy asked.

Nicholas shrugged.

"Mac and cheese?" Troy suggested.

"Sure," Nicholas said quietly.

Troy watched as his cook cooked two plates of Mac and cheese.

"So who's the second plate for? Chad?" Robbie asked.

"Um, no. For Nicholas."

"Who's that?" Robbie asked.

"Gabriella's son."

"Ah. High school sweetheart, eh?" Robbie winked, "So why's he here?"

"She died," Troy said plainly.

"Oh," Robbie said caringly, as he place the two plates in front of Troy.

"You want me to get Nicholas for you?" Robbie offered.

"Thanks, Robs," Troy said, poking his Mac and cheese.

Six-year-old Nicholas hobbled into the dinning room with Robbie behind him.

"So...Nicholas. How old are you?" Troy said, trying to start a conversation.

"Six years-old," Nick said proudly.

Troy nodded.

That night, after setting Nicholas in a guest room, Troy sat on his bed, leaning against the frame, with his eyes closed, thinking.

He suddenly remembered the note given to him, and dug into his laundry basket, pulling his pair of jeans out.

He snatched the small purple sheet of paper, and let his jeans lay on the floor.

He leaned against the door frame.

-Troy

You're probably reading this two weeks from the day I handed in my will. I assume you have Nick. Please take care of him. I know you probably have a lot of questions to ask, but for now, just take care of him, I'll answer your questions later. Like how you took care of me when I found out that my dad had died. I know you're three days away from your game. And I'm sorry for dropping all this at you right now. But you have to understand that I had and am doing everything I can in order to protect Nick. And to you, it might not seem like a big deal, but that's because you don't have answers to your questions. Tell Nick I love him for me, and tell him not to worry about me and try to forget everything that happened in the past few years.

---Gabriella

p.s. I'm so sorry.

p.p.s. I love you, Troy. And I always will.

Troy's head was spinning with questions that didn't even seem to make sense to him.

Troy got back into his bed.

He read the note a few more times, before deciding that all this was just a dream.

He laid the note on the small table next to his bed, and closed his eyes, waiting to wake up from his dream.