Chapter Two: Detention

East High prided it self in two things, its basketball team and its academic record, however, it didn't mean everyone would get A's.

Troy Bolton just couldn't concentrate, no matter what he did. Staring didn't at the teacher help, neither did taking notes, but he decided if he took notes, he would at least process half of it.

Tapping the pencil on his blank piece of paper, he sighed.

Nope. Didn't work.

Troy rubbed his temples as his history teacher droned on about the civil war.

"Excuse me," said the pristine voice of their vice principle. Troy looked up from his blank sheet of paper to meet the brown eyes of a young girl with brown hair and tanned skin with a shy smile on her pretty face.

"This is Gabriella Montez," said Mr. Mack to Mrs. Leeann. Mrs. Leeann smiled dully and nodded.

Gabriella passed him and sat near Taylor McKessie, a genius and part of the decathlon academic group. Troy blinked in shock, was that really the girl he sang with in the lodge?

After the bell rang, Troy was still left with a blank sheet of paper and a mind full of worry for his father.

What if he hurts himself and I am not there? Troy shook his head.

"Hey Troy, where were you yesterday?" Chad, his best friend, asked, as he clutched his basketball to his chest, with his books in his book bag.

"Helping my dad," Troy said. Technically he wasn't lying, as he had been helping him.

Chad hissed slightly in frustration and glanced around before puling him into an empty classroom.

"Hey!" Troy took his arm out of Chad's grasp. "Whats up with you?"

Chad cleared his throat awkwardly and placed his basketball down.

Troy felt fear run up his spine. Chad never puts down his basketball unless it is serious!

"Well, captain, there has been some rumors going around," Chad said, "that, well, your dad and mom split and he's been drinking." Troy flinched.

"Ahh," Troy began and lowered his voice, "it's kind of true." Chad blinked. Then again. And again.

"Really?" He said in a straggled, before hugging him. Troy stood stiff and frowned.

"Man, I, we- lets get some help! I mean we need to call the cops and tell them and-," Chad rambled, making absolutely no sense to Troy.

"Huh? Call the police on my dad because he's drinking? He's above age."

"No, no because-," Chad lowered his voice and Troy leaned in just to humor him. "Because of him hitting you."

"WHAT!" Troy exploded his eyes wide with shock. "He doesn't hit me!"

Chad blinked. "Oh, well that's good." He picked up his ball, flashed Troy a smile before leaving but he paused at the doorway, "Well practice is after school at 4."

Troy sat, leaning against another desk, before breathing heavily for a few minutes, trying to clear his thoughts. A ring tone filled to room and Troy opened his jean pocket and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey son!" slurred the voice of his father. Troy sighed. Drinking again?

"What wrong Dad, I need to go to lunch."

"I can't find the knives." Fear ran up his spine and he almost dropped his phone.

"Dad," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I'll be right there."

"Okay Troy! See ya!" Troy took no hurry in grabbing his keys and running out to his father's truck.

Hopefully he didn't hit anything in the process of getting home.

Troy swerved to avoid lamp post.

Or hit anything.


Troy burst through their front door, while calling, "DAD!" His call went unanswered. Troy panted slightly as he took the steps two at a time, running from room to room. However, when he found no one, he felt his panic rise to new levels.

"DAD!" He yelled again. Troy shook his head, trying to clear the images of his father in a bloody puddle.

"Troy," slurred his father's voice. Troy raised to the source of the call to find his father at the bottom of the steps, his hair rumpled, his eyes bloodshot and smelling of alcohol.

Troy hugged his father tightly and took deep breathes, but regretted it, as the smell of alcohol made him nauseous.

"What are you doing home?"

"You called me saying you needed help." Troy looked into his father's dazed eyes before it dawned upon his father.

"Oh, sorry I found them!" He held up a spatula. "Here it is." Troy blinked.

"Ahh Dad well that's not a knife…," he trailed off seeing the put out expression on his father's face.

"I was searching all morning! I don't know where your mother puts everything."

"Let me help, you must be hungry." Jake shook his head.

"No, I'm trying to help you! I feel bad not being able to feed my own child." Troy flashed his father a smile.

"Just help me by stop drinking Dad," Troy said, before glancing at his watch. "I've got to go."


Troy stared at the gleaming desk in the vice principles office, wincing as he heard the door open behind him.

"Sit down, Mr. Bolton." Mr. Mack came into line of vision with sharp eyes and a scowling face. Troy sat on the cushioned chair and stared slightly to the left of the vice principles face.

"It is against the rules to leave campus without permission from a parent or teacher, therefore you will be having detention after school with Mrs. Darbus. " Troy knew better than to protest. He merely nodded and got up.

He really couldn't wait to tell the team about this.


"WHAT!" The team protested loudly. Chad glared at his friend, Zeke shook his head solemnly and Jason watched with pity.

Jason knew what it was like to have parents split, as his had been, and having to take care of one while they wallowed in their depression.

"Man," Chad scowled, clapping Troy on the shoulder, and pushing him against the lockers in the changing rooms. He looked him forcefully in the eye.

"This isn't good, we have the championship in two weeks, and without you and Coach here we won't stand a chance! The sub is a joke!" Troy averted Chad's black eyes before saying, "I'm sorry, how about you guys come over on Saturday and we'll practice at my house."

Chad frowned and gestured for the team to huddle in. Troy rubbed his shoulder and watched the sweaty basketball players whisper quietly.

Finally, Zeke turned to him and flashed him a smile, which reassured Troy to no end.

"You have a deal."


Troy glanced down at the clipboard and called out, "Sally Clifford!" A girl of his age stepped out from the curtain, walked to where Kelsie was sitting at the piano and flushed slightly when she caught sight of him. She gave a gentle wave and he flashed her, his, 'I'm just smiling because you looked' smile and nodded to Mrs. Darbus.

"Begin!" Mrs. Darbus boomed. From where Troy sat, which was in the cushioned seats of the auditorium, he could see how nervous the girl was and Mrs. Darbus wasn't making it any better.

Kelsie began slowly and the girl cleared her throat awkwardly, "Its hard to believe…" Her voice cracked and her pitch was off. Troy winced as Mrs. Darbus held up her hand and said, "Next," before waving at Troy to say the next name.

"Sharpay and Ryan Evans," he called. The fans cheered and as Sharpay made her way up toward the stage, she winked flirtaously at Troy. Ryan followed her dutifully.

"What key?" Troy heard Kelsie asked shyly. Troy felt his lips twitch into a smile. The timid girl was a nice listener when you need someone to talk to if you had problems.

He couldn't hear the rest of the conversation but when upbeat music filled the room he knew that wasn't from Kelsie.

"It's hard to believe that I couldn't see-," Ryan began and Sharpay chimed in with him, "You were always there beside me; thought I was alone with no one to hold; But you were always right beside me."

The song was upbeat, Troy thought, but definitely not what Kelsie had been looking for. Kelsie tried to keep her dislike of the new version off her face, but Troy could see the dislike.

As the song ended, the fans and Mrs. Darbus clapped. Troy flashed Sharpay a fake smile as she practically pranced off the stage. As she paced him, he caught the scent of her perfume, heavy and yet light, like ice.

"Bye Troy," she giggled. Troy nodded.

"Any other auditions?" Mrs. Darbus called. Silence filled the room until a small voice called, "I'd like to audition." Troy's head shot up and he caught sight of Gabriella Montez, with her brown hair and pretty face.

"Well, would you like someone to sing with you?" Mrs. Darbus knew of her shyness but was glad to have her audition.

"Yes," Gabriella said before looking for the stage.

"Bolton!" Troy jolted, as did many of the fans and Sharpay and Ryan, who hadn't left yet.

"Yes?" Troy hoped it was for something else.

Please let it be for something else, please, please!!!

"Sing with Montez."

Crap.

He got up, flashed Gabriella a smile and took a copy of the song. Many were intrigued of the jocks singing so they sat down, hoping Troy would make a fool out of himself.

Kelsie nodded her support to him as he began.

"Its hard to believe that I couldn't see that see-," he began smoothly, nodding to Gabriella, who began softly.

"That you were always right beside me; thought I was alone with no one to hold, but you were always right beside me." Gabriella's voice fit his perfectly, blending in, creating a perfect harmony.

"Stop!" Gabriella and Troy looked up from each other to meet the grinning face of Mrs. Darbus, the stunned face of the crowd and Kelsie's amused eyes.

"Your in, callbacks are next week, Bolton, Montez, dismissed." Troy almost chocked on his words.

"What?"

"Yes, Bolton, it turns out you have more talent then scoring touchdowns-," Troy ignored the wrong reference, "-You'll be singing with Montez. Be back here tomorrow same time to help with the painting."

"Wait up!" Troy called after Gabriella. She turned and stopped, flushing.

"Sorry," she said, tucking a piece of stray hair out of her face.

"Its nothing, I just wanted to ask you, did you go to the lodge in New York on-," she cut him off with a startled gasp.

"It was you!"

"I can't believe it!" The both exclaimed as they made their way toward the steps. Troy flashed her a real smile and said, "What were the odds we see each other again!"

"I know," grinned Gabriella. "Wait a second-," she said, looking at his shoe lace but it happened all to fast.

One minute he was next to her, grinning, and the next he was at the bottom of the steps, unconscious, his ankle bent at an odd angle.


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