I can't explain how much I'm loving writing this. Everyday I think of a bit more to add to the story :D

Enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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"Bolton! Step forward!"

His nose had fully healed, though there was still a slight ache, and Troy, on his first day back, stood in the gym. He had gone to tryout for the basketball team and had felt a sly smile cross his face as he stepped into the hall, realising that Tommy Cooper - the one responsible for his fractured nose - was the Co-Captain of the Wildcats.

Payback.

He stepped forward boldly, when he was called up for a one-on-one game and saw fear flash across Tommy's eyes.

"Bolton? Coach's son?" He masked his panic convincingly, his voice still stern, but Troy wasn't convinced

"Small world isn't it?" He said, stepping level to him. Troy knew he could still be bitter and use it as an opportunity to get back at him, denying him his place on the team, but he also knew that he was better than half the guys there and for Tommy to do anything other than give him a shot would be all too obvious.

"Three minutes to prove yourself." He said firmly, his voice echoing heavily the boy who had beaten Troy weeks ago. "Me and you. First to five. Can you handle it?"

"I can handle you."

"You got game?"

"A little." He responded, holding Tommy's gaze, not allowing himself to get the tiniest bit intimidated.

He felt his hands stinging as his ball was forcefully snatched out of his hands. "We play with my ball." Tommy said, throwing Troy's carelessly to the side.

"Whatever's easier for you." Troy laughed inwardly, hearing the rest of the gym echo with laughter at his response. He followed, stepping into the middle of the court, though he had to strain his neck, his eyes fixed on Tommy's as they both got into position. Things seem to slow as the whistle blew, signalling the start of the game. The ball flew high into the air and Troy, with all he could muster, soared for it. Breaths stilled as his palm made contact with the tight orange rubber, the crowd roaring as he stole the ball, swerving past Cooper with precision and ease.

******

"Congratulations Wildcat!" Gabriella called elatedly as her arms wrapped around Troy's neck.

"Wildcat?" He ask, bemused.

"It's all around East High how you schooled that jerk! You're officially a Wildcat now!" Gabriella hugged him again, the excitement she felt for her friend refusing to be contained.

"Thanks. It felt kind of good to get back at him. In my own little way." Troy smiled, finally allowing his new status to sink in.

"You want to go get a milkshake? My treat?" Gabriella asked. She continued to jump on the spot, completely oblivious to the staring eyes.

Making their way along the corridors, it was evident that Troy had morphed into an East High hero. People stopped him, asked him where he was headed and congratulated him on his success and new found fame. Gabriella wore a smile of undying pride - her best friend was a superstar.

******

The air was temperate that evening as Gabriella crossed the Bolton's yard. Their was a slight breeze in the air and a sweet smell lingered, making Gabriella smile. She paused for a moment a she watched Troy. He had been practising avidly since getting onto the basketball team and here he was again on the basketball court, his ball in hand, his body weaving through imaginary opponents as he made his way to the net. He swerved, dribbled, his billowing white shirt occasionally revealing his taut stomach. Finally his feet lifted from the ground, his wrist flicking with perfection as he took the shot.

"Will he make it? Will he? Will he? ...And... Yes! Never before have we seen a shot taken with such concentration, but it sure has paid off. Ladies and gentlemen... Troy Bolton." Gabriella began to clap, cheering wildly as Troy blushed - he had thought he was alone.

"If I get big-headed I'm blaming you," He laughed, throwing Gabriella the ball.

She bounced it a few times, squinting in an attempt to block out the warn rays of sun, before shooting. She watched in anticipation as it swerved the rim, once, then twice, before tipping slightly to the right and hitting the floor with a thud. Shrugging she continued the conversation. "You know you love it. All the girls are all like 'Oh my God, you're friends with Troy Bolton?'." She rolled her mocha eyes. If only they knew what a nerd he was, she thought.

"You've got too much wrist." Troy casually pointed out her flaw when it came to basketball, before replying. "I won't lie; basketball has it's perks," he laughed. "Being the 'Wildcat' isn't all that though. Especially when you're the coach's son." He sighed, throwing the basketball over his head and opening the door to the kitchen, ushering Gabriella inside.

As he pulled open the stainless-steel fridge Gabriella handed him two orange tumblers and watched him fill the glasses with cranberry juice, before handing her a plate of golden brown cookies.

"They think you're the teacher's pet?" Gabriella questioned, as her teeth sunk into the ginger nut cookies, the flavour exploding like a firework, into her mouth. "God that's good." The moaned.

"Yeah," Troy chuckled. "Want to watch a movie?" Troy asked innocently, having second thoughts about the subject he had bought up.

As he headed to the living room, Gabriella called him back. "Not getting out of it that easy, Troy. You haven't told me what's up yet." She had a one-sided smirk as his body swivelled and he hopped onto the counter. Gabriella watched him intently, she knew he would rather not go into it. It was the little things that gave Troy away; the way he didn't hold eye contact, but instead let his cobalt eyes focus on the cookie that lay between his fingers.

"You know me, Gabriella. I've practiced basketball with my dad every evening since I was about five, and even though it was about getting better, it's never really been... it's always just felt like it was me and dad hanging out, having fun - cuz we love playing ball."

"What changed?" She enquired, her head tilting up to him.

"High school. ...Since I got onto the team everything's been kicked up a notch. I knew that things would get more serious but now it's like...my dad's just going crazy with everything," His voice raised with frustration. "It isn't how it used to be; my dad's so hard on me I don't even like after-school practice anymore and then team practice? It's ridiculous! He's gets at me more than any of the other guys. If we all have a sucky practice I'm the one who has to do free-throws again, I'm the one who runs extra laps, the one that's made an example of - it's always me!" Finally their eyes met and Gabriella was able to see the resentment being held in his sapphire eyes. She saw the anger, the feeling of betrayal and helplessness.

"Are you sure?" She asked tactfully. "Maybe you just feel like there's more attention on you."

Troy huffed loudly as he rolled his eyes. "Gabriella, I'm sweating buckets more than everyone else on that team, I'm not the only one that's noticing it!" His voice dropped again and for a split second Gabriella thought the saw a glistening tear balance on his eyelash. "You know what I hate the most? ...He doesn't even call me 'Troy' anymore. If it has anything to do with ball then he calls me 'Bolton'." He chuckled bitterly, "My dad calls me 'Bolton'." His last statement was more to himself than it was to Gabriella.

"Why don't you talk to him? Maybe he doesn't realise he's doing it." Gabriella suggested as Troy bit down on another cookie, hoping the route of the soft crumbs down his throat would dislodge the lump that had formed there.

"Whatever, I'm not going to talk to him." He immediately dismissed her recommendation and hopped off the kitchen counter, exiting the room and heading towards the living room.

Bemused by his sudden disappearance, Gabriella trotted after him, calling down the hall, "Why?". She finally caught up with him, his body perched on the arm of the sofa. He flicked through the T.V channels, not caring what was on, trying to distract himself.

"Troy," She called again, hating him ignoring her.

"I'm not a girl, Gabriella!" In his temper he threw the remote to the side, allowing the thudding sound as it his the floor wash past him, not taking it in.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" It was the first time Gabriella had raised her voice to him that day; showing her anger.

Regretting making Gabriella his emotional punching bag, he attempted to clarify his comment. "No - I...I me-"

"You know what, Troy!?" He had pushed her too far. Like a shark who had smelt blood, Gabriella's eyes narrowed. "When's someone's trying to help you, giving you advice, try not to insult them!"

"I just-"

"Sort it out on your own, Troy, I'm going home." With that she was gone, her brisk steps fading into the distance, until the light patter of her feet were no longer a part of Troy's world.

He stood by the window, watching as she crossed his front yard, the green strands of grass flittering slightly as she breezed past. His fist were clenched tightly, his heart pounding as anger - at the situation, not Gabriella - seeped through his pores. He watched as Gabriella disappeared from his view, the small frame of her body following the curve of the corner.

"Dammit!"

******

She knew those steps, that breath, the light rustling of polyester basketball shorts. Why couldn't he leave her alone?

"Go away!" She didn't turn to face him, instead kept her head forward, not missing a single step.

"I'm walking you home," The voice behind her responded. She could tell he was getting closer.

"I can see my house from here, I don't need you."

"Look," His voice was stern, a tone he seldom used when conversing with Gabriella. "I've never let you go home on your own, whether you're mad or not I'm walking you home."

She slowed, falling beside him, there steps in sync.

He observed her for a short while as they walked in silence, the distance between their two houses seeming, somehow, to double. "Guys don't talk like girls do, that's what I meant. The way we talk, I could never talk like that to Chad or my dad even," He wanted desperately to make peace, hoping to clear the air before the night was out. "I can know something's up with Chad but if I ask him what's wrong he'll give one of two responses: 'I don't wanna go into it.' or 'I'm cool.' and I leave it; that's just how we are."

"But why? Is it so hard for you guys to just communicate?" She was truly baffled.

"This is how we've been for thousands of years." His voice was getting sharper, his stubbornness beginning to show.

"Exactly, Troy! Thousands of years. But guys were also hunting with spears back then -- it's called evolution!" She never understood why guys saw things in such simplistic ways, why they were so reluctant to change sometimes.

"Thousands, Gabi, why change it now?"

Rolling her eyes, Gabriella replied, her steps resuming. "'If it ain't broke' right?" She asked sarcastically, nearing the white fence of her home.

"My motto." Troy answered.

Everything seemed to pass them by - the kids playing carelessly in the street, the dogs in the front yards that bounded up to their fences, excited at the prospect of new faces - as they closed in on Gabriella's house, both of them with the same question in mind: When did things get so complicated?

Trailing just a step behind Gabriella, Troy stood awkwardly at her front door as she produced her key. "So...umm...night."

The lock of the door clicking, permitting her entry Gabriella responded. "G'night." As Troy swivelled on the balls of his feet, ready to leave, Gabriella's slim fingers caught his wrist. "When I talk to you, I do it because I know I can tell you anything, we've known each other so long it's just...instinctual to come to you. But at the same time, I know that I can talk to Taylor, my mom, your mom...who ever. I talk to you because I want to, not because I can't go to anybody else," She could tell that Troy knew where she was leading and had therefore lost interest, but she continued, desperate for him to understand. "He's your dad, Troy and he loves you. Talk to him."

He was careful not to dismiss her again, not wanting to injure her feelings, so as tactfully as he could, replied, "Good night, Brie."

She looked in his eyes, so blue and stubborn, and knew there was no talking to him. "Night. ...And thanks for walking me."

He was now at her fence, his fingers fiddling with the metal lock. "Anytime." With a smile and a wink, he was gone. His shoulders slumped as if he bore weights on each, his hands stuffed firmly into his pockets, showing themselves only occasionally when he would run them through his shaggy mane - a gesture that always exposed his nerves.

One day, Gabriella thought. One day he'll learn.