Chapter 7
Troy finished his practice for the day, and walked into the large kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbing one of the many cold water bottles. He twisted the cap off, drinking it. Hearing someone walk in the room, he pulled the bottle away from the lips, hearing it pop. Mr. Bolton stood there.
"Troy, you know what today is, your mother wants you to go get ready so we can go to the cemetery," He told his son.
Troy nodded, putting the cap back on and setting the water bottle on the island. He walked into the bathroom, stripping his sweaty clothes, and taking a quick shower.
--
After putting jeans and a plain T-shirt on, he slipped on his shoes and down the stairs he went. Mrs. Bolton stood there, sadly smiling down at an old photo album with Brothers written across it, in neat cursive.
"Mom?" He spoke.
Her head raised slowly as she closed the photo album. "We have to get flowers."
--
After Troy and his parents stopped to buy flowers, they arrived at the cemetery. They walked down the long lawn, looking for the grave. Troy walked slowly behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down, watching his feet. He hated this day; it reminded him of what he did. It played in his memory over and over, like a never ending movie. Only it wasn't a movie, it was life, and life was real.
Mrs. Bolton knelt down by her son's grave. Tears flowed down her cheeks, as she grabbed the tiny shovel out of her bag, and began digging a hole for the flowers. Mr. Bolton leaned down, helping his wife.
Troy stood there, no emotion reading on his face. He rocked back and fourth on his heels. He knew he should be more respectful to his brother. Tanner did everything to help Troy, his brother was more like a father than his own was. He helped Troy with his homework, as Mr. Bolton sat there, complaining that school won't get you anywhere.
One of the dinners with his brother and his family rolled into his mind.
"Dad, did you know Troy got an A on his math test?" Tanner asked, swallowing his food.
"How was football today?" Jack ignored his son's question. "You got a big game on Friday."
"It was fine, but did you hear what I said?" Tanner said, aggravated that his father didn't care the least bit about Troy's grades.
"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Bolton waved his hand carelessly. "Troy took some test."
"Well, I think that was awesome. I know I rarely got an A on a math test," Tanner whispered to his little brother.
Troy smiled up at Tanner, admiring him even more.
Mr and Mrs. Bolton stood up, looking down at the flowers in the grave.
"Blue was always his favorite color," Mrs. Bolton commented sadly.
Troy stared down at the blue flowers blowing in the wind. He caught a glimpse at the words on the stone.
Tanner Bolton
Beloved, son, brother, friend.
March 5th, 1985- July 4th, 2000
The same scene stayed in his head. He kept seeing Tanner jumping off that bridge. He could have stopped his brother, but he didn't.
--
Troy closed his bedroom door, seeing his phone laying on his bed. Obviously, he had forgotten it. One Text Message read on the screen. He hit the view button. Gabriella's name shone on the screen, causing a tiny smile to form on Troy.
Hey, are you up for anything today?
Troy ran his fingers across the keys, typing his response.
What do you have in mind?
Troy sat down onto his bed, falling back. Tired and loving the feeling of the soft bed under him, he kicked his shoes off and brought his legs up, laying down. He set his head onto the cool, comfortable pillow. His eyes closed.
He heard a beep around the room, but ignored it, slipping closer and closer to sleep.
--
After the third time calling, Gabriella shut her phone frustrated. She was just texting him, why hadn't he answered? A sigh escaped her. Maybe he just didn't want to do anything. After all, it was his dead brother's birthday.
Her phone vibrated on the couch. She jumped, hoping it was Troy. But a different name appeared on the screen.
"Hey, Shar," She answered disappointed.
"Expecting someone else?" She asked, due to the welcoming she got from Gabriella.
"You could say that."
"Another date with Troy?" Sharpay had a smirk crawling onto to her.
"We are not dating, for the hundredth time!"
"Yet," Sharpay corrected. "I just can't wait for the moment I can say 'I told you so'."
"Not to burst your bubble, but we aren't gonna end up together. Me and Troy Bolton just weren't made for each other."
Sharpay rolled her eyes. "So naive. Anyway, wanna do something tonight?"
"Like what?" Gabriella asked, bored.
"I don't know. I just wanna get out of this house. My mom started talking about mother/daughter day. Gag me."
Gabriella chuckled at her Sharpay's over dramatic reaction. "You just wanna come over? We have school tomorrow and I'm incredibly tired."
"Sure, sure. I'll be there." Gabriella heard the click on the other end, indicating Sharpay had hung up.
Gabriella set her phone on the small table by the couch, and lied down. She grabbed the fuzzy, warm blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch and covered herself with it. A yawn escaped her mouth, as she turned to her side. Her eyes closed and she slipped into unconsciousness.
--
"Get up," Sharpay told her friend for the fifth time. She picked up a pillow throwing it at her. "Gab-ri-ella!" She spit out, breaking the apart the syllables in her name.
Gabriella turned over, glaring at her friend. "What?" She sighed.
"I've been here for like forty-five minutes and you've been sleeping the whole time. And to top that off, your phone has been going off every three minutes," Sharpay complained.
"My phone?" Gabriella asked, confused picking it up.
Three missed calls read on the screen when she opened it, and Brooke's name came up.
"Shit," Gabriella mumbled, pushing herself off the couch.
She was positive that Coach Parker would kill her this time. Coach Parker was Gabriella's swim coach. She had been missing practice for a week now, due to volleyball. And Brooke, being one of the captains and Gabriella's friends, must have called her to remind her.
"What?" Sharpay asked, confused.
"I think I have some sort of a death wish," Gabriella answered, running up to her room.
Having no idea what is going on, Sharpay followed her friend upstairs. "Gabby, what are you talking about?"
"Swim practice. Coach Parker said if I miss another one I'll get kicked off the team. I haven't been there for a week. And you know how pissy he gets when you miss the first ten minutes. I don't even wanna imagine what he's gonna say today."
Gabriella quickly threw on her bathing suit. She picked up a volleyball T-shirt from last summer and threw it over, following black shorts.
"I'll see you later?" Sharpay spoke more like a question as she watched Gabriella sprint back down the steps.
"Sorry, Shar. I don't know what kind of freak puts a practice on a Sunday anyway," Gabriella complained.
She slipped her shoes on, slamming the door behind her.
--
She got out of her car, running into the school. The first two doors she tried were locked. She groaned, growing more, and more annoyed. Remembering that the basketball team sometimes runs the track, and uses the back door, she ran around to the other side of the school.
Finally, she reached the destination. She turned the knob, hearing it click, which meant it was open. She ran over to the door which led out of the gym to the hallway. Calmly, she walked across the hall, going into the locker room the girl's swim team uses.
No one else was in there. She heard splashing and muffled whistle blows. In a hurry, she threw her shorts and shirt in a locker, and pulled her swim cap and goggles out.
Gabriella pulled her hair up, letting it rest on the top of her head. She slid her red swim cap over her head, tucking her goggles in her swimsuit by her thigh.
She walked out, not quite prepared for Coach Parker's tirade. He stood over the pool, looking angry and frustrated. His right hand at the end of one of his toned arms, was balled into a fist.
He looked up, hearing slapping on the wet tile floor. He obviously didn't look to happy for Gabriella's sudden return to practice.
A/N: I know, not much Troyella action in this chapter, there will be some next chapter. Review, please.