Chapter 9: Never Harm You

Dear readers,

I know that most of you have given up on me due to the fact that I'm not exactly consistent with my updates. But PLEASE bear with me. I will not disappoint. Thank you to all of my faithful readers and reviewers! You are the reason I continue to write!

---LyricalVirtue

DISCLAIMER: If I owned HSM why in the hell would I be writing this? In other words, I GOT ZIP, NADA, NOTHING. EXCEPT, of course, this plot line. So if I find anyone who twisted or manipulated my ideas to favor their story, I will hunt you down!!!!! :P!

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"I'm so sorry I'm late," Marilyn said as she entered the small hospital room. Troy's eyes wandered towards her face; still astonished at the eloquence of her movement as he was the first time they met. "It's just that Chad---anyway," she said dismissing her incomplete previous thought. Troy disregarded it.

"It's alright," he notified simply. Almost immediately, a frown had presented itself upon Marilyn's delicate lips. She moved closer to him.

"Troy, I came here to tell you that…" she paused and took a breath. As she released the air through her nose, a smile appeared. "I want you to come live with me and my son," she said warm and with motherly affection. Marilyn read resistance in Troy's expression and interjected: "And I'm not taking no for an answer." Troy sighed in defeat.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because I want to," she responded, squeezing his hand. "So right this very second, we're leaving for my house," she said, gathering Troy's scattered belongings.

Since the pain had almost entirely vanished, walking was no longer a struggle for him. His pair of Michael Jordan sneakers stared at him from across the room, reminding him of the time he had received them. His attention was directed to the shoes recalling what they had meant. For a moment, he remembered it all: Joe, his father, Steven. His past in its entirety; his mother. He envisaged his mother with her milk white skin and light brown hair. Her vivid smile represented a time for him in which he could indulge in infantilism and innocence, something which he could never do again. And now all he had left to evince for his past were a secondhand pair of Michael Jordan sneakers.

"Do you want me to hand them to you?" Marilyn asked, realizing where Troy's gaze was set upon. Before he could reply, she had already handed them to him. "Should I help you put them on?"

"No; I'm fine," he lied. He did not want to abuse of her generosity although his hip had not healed entirely thus he would suffer from a slight pain when he bent to tie his shoelaces. He moved the ripped cuffs of his jeans aside as he slipped his feet into the shoes.

"What did you do to those shoes? They look like they've been run over twenty times," Marilyn commented. Troy nodded indifferently. "We can get you new ones."

"No, I like these," he said, nearly shielding his shoes in defense. "They're my basketball shoes. Remind me of the good old days, you know?" he said, offering an explanation for his random act. Marilyn nodded.

"You'll get along very well with my son," she said, resting her hand on the doorknob as to prepare herself to open it. Troy rose from the bed with slight difficulty remembering what it was like to walk; he had not endured any physical activity in the past few days. "He plays basketball, too, at Hamilton," she informed. Troy was unfamiliar with the high school.

"Will I be going there, now?"

"No, you will remain at East High. How could you expect me to pull you away from such a great opportunity, Troy? Never even think of it," she grinned widely. Her encouraging words had been something that Troy had never experienced, except when they came from Joe's mouth. There had never been someone who had wanted to ensure his success.

"Thank you, Miss," Troy said softly as they walked away from the little hospital room. A room which had changed him in so many ways. The room where he had last seen his father. And so the first door opened; there was no turning back.

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It was beautiful. It was illuminated as if the sun was hidden in one of the several rooms throughout the majestically ornate house. His eyes reflected hunger and amazement as he scanned the room. He felt as if someone spoke, the echo would send the walls tumbling to pieces. He could never begin to imagine such a place.

"Well, what do you think?" Marilyn asked in her warm motherly tone. Troy turned to finally face her, taking note that the beauty of his foster mother mirrored that of her taste in home dé one word could fully epitomize the house. Spacious, elegant.

"M!" came a voice from the upper level of the house Troy and his new foster parent entered. Following it were several hurried footsteps. Troy placed his bags beside the staircase, keeping them out of the way.

"Yes?" Marilyn called, rolling her eyes.

"I can't find my shoes!" You could hear the erratic footsteps as the person searched through the rooms. Troy identified the voice as male, with its deep tone ringing through the halls. "I'm going to be late!"

"Well if you'd keep your room a bit cleaner, maybe you could find them, Chad!" Marilyn responded. The other being did not respond, for he knew he could not deny Marilyn's accusation. "Chad, why don't you come down stairs? I have someone I want you to meet."

Almost immediately a male figure pronounced itself on the stairwell. He was a few inches taller than Troy and similarly and strongly built. When he finally noticed Troy, his eyes widened in shock. "What's going on?" he said as calmly as he could manage.

"This is Troy. He's going to be living with us. Troy this is my adopted son, Chad," she said motioning for the two to shake hands in acknowledgement. Chad's expression of confusion did not alter in the least. Troy tried to give a reassuring smile.

"Nice to meet you," Troy said cordially. Chad simply nodded.

"There they are," he said glancing over Troy's soldier at a glistening, new pair of basketball sneakers. He hurried towards them and grabbed the car keys that Marilyn had previously set down. "I got to go, M," he said, kissing Marilyn's cheek. "Nice to meet you, Troy," he added awkwardly as he evacuated the premises as fast as he could. Troy sighed simultaneously with Marilyn.

"Excuse him. He's just surprised; that's all," Marilyn explained warmly. "I'll have Luther bring your things to your room. Just make yourself at home," She gesticulated towards the house. As beautiful as it was, Troy could never call it home. It didn't fit with his persona; his grungy, distorted self.

"I was wondering if I could visit a friend of mine. If that's alright with you, of course," Troy said awkwardly, not wanting to be disrespectful to Marilyn's hospitality.

"As long as you're back before night falls. The keys to the other car are on the kitchen counter. I'm trusting that you are a responsible driver," she said.

"I don't have a license. But it's alright; I'll call her and ask her to come get me," Troy added. The last thing he wanted to be in this household was a nuisance.

"Her? So there's a girl?" Marilyn's eyebrow cocked knowingly as she approached Troy with a clever grin. Troy's cheeks burned a bright red as he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans uncomfortably. Talking openly about these sorts of things wasn't something he was accustomed to.

"We're just friends," He explained but the possibility of being something more entered his mind unexpectedly. What surprised him more was that he didn't push the thought out of his mind. What if underneath his hostility and reluctance, he could find a way to feel something for another person?

"Maybe just for now, but you never know," Marilyn said, smiling as she retrieved to her own bedroom, leaving Troy with a simple pat on the shoulder. Troy returned the smile, but still unsure of his own conflicting feelings. How was it that Marilyn read him so easily? Before he contemplated the thought any further, he reached for the phone and asked the operator for the number for the Montez residence.

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"Wait, so you're living with the woman who called the ambulance?" Gabriella questioned as she took a sip of her milkshake. Troy swallowed in order to respond to her question.

"Exactly. And she has an adopted son. Chad, I think his name was," Troy informed. Gabriella nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," she said shaking her head. "I can't leave you alone for one second can I?"

"I wouldn't want you to leave me alone anyway," he said without realizing what words had left his mouth. Gabriella shyly began slurping her straw, trying to ignore his comment. "You're just too much fun," Troy added to alleviate the awkwardness.

"You're quite entertaining as well," she said. Troy smiled; how he enjoyed her ability to make everything so blithely easygoing. There was scarcely a tense moment between the two, with the exception of their early encounters. "So I have something for you," she said, reaching into her bag that lay beside her ankles. Troy's eyes curiously followed her hands as the pulled out a CD. "Here," she said, sliding the CD across the small table.

"Troy's Mix? You shouldn't have," he said opening the case and scanning the list of songs quickly for something he noticed. There were only a few that he wasn't familiar with. "The Mixed Tape? How appropriate," he pointed out.

"I thought so," Gabriella said.

"Don't Wait by Dashboard Confessional. I must commend you on your taste, Miss Montez," he said, closing the case and putting it into the pocket of his bulky jacket.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she said, playing along with the tone of the conversation. But the conversation took on an interesting turn when another person, actually several, entered the conversation.

"Montez! What are you doing here?" said a blond haired boy seemingly their age as he sat beside them. Gabriella turned away at the touch of his hand on her cheek. "I see how it is," he said bitterly. A few other boys stood around him, equally as built.

"May I help you?" she said as politely as she could.

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss, honey," he said moving closer to her, his arm slowly enveloping her as he puckered his lips. Gabriella pushed him away. If she wouldn't have, Troy was ready to jump from his seat.

"Why don't you leave, buddy?" Troy suggested in a serene tone, indicating that he did not want any trouble. The blond boy turned to face him, noticing him for the first time. His bright blue eyes stared him down.

"Who the hell are you?" he spat, Gabriella no longer the center of his attention.

"You don't know need to know that. Look, why don't you and your friends just leave her alone?" Troy said, standing to match the blond boy in stature. His fists lay clenched by his sides. Gabriella tried to interject but both boys ignored her pleas.

"Make me," he said. That was all Troy needed to hear to start a fight. He immediately threw a punch into his stomach, knocking the air out of his opponent. The blonde boy jammed his head towards Troy's chest sending him flying at the wall. His spine hit the wall harshly and his hip could feel the consequences. From a distance, Troy could hear Gabriella yell, "Get off of him!"

Troy rose as quickly as he could, only to receive another punch. He pushed the blond boy away until the manager and a few waiters could hold them back. "Take it outside," they muttered as they struggled to throw them out of the restaurant, Gabriella chasing after them.

The blond boy and his friends headed the opposite way and Troy furiously walked down the side walk pressing his hand to his injured lips. "Troy!" Gabriella called. Troy ignored her purposefully, ashamed at his savage reaction. "Troy!" Gabriella grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Will you calm down? I can handle myself!" she said. Troy kept his head down.

"I can walk from here," he said quickening his pace.

"What's the matter with you? Can't you just admit that you're wrong?" Gabriella said, attempting to step in front of him so that he would stop and listen. Troy tried to push her aside, but could never exert force on Gabriella, the girl who cared for him. One of the only people who was ever kind to him.

"God! I'm sorry! I said; I'm sorry." He yelled. "I'm sorry," he said in a lower tone.

"That's better," she said, taking his hand in hers tightly. The contact with his skin drained the rage from him. He steadied his breathing. "The last thing we need is for you to dislocate your hip right after surgery," Gabriella added.

"Who is he?" Troy asked, dismissing Gabriella's statement.

"Him? His name's Keller. We used to date," Troy let go of her hand quickly, staring at her, anger in his eyes. What was this feeling that was eating away at him when she had given that last piece of information? Could it have been jealousy? The idea of Gabriella with another boy, caring for another boy greatly disturbed him. "Just forget about him, okay?" Gabriella explained, immediately trying to digress from the uncomfortable subject.

"Yeah, okay," Troy responded in accordance.

"Hey; he doesn't mean anything," she said soothingly, taking his hand once more lovingly as she always did. And then she placed a soft, delicate kiss on his cheek that tore at him but healed him at the same time. Just a simple kiss that relaxed every muscle in his body.

I know there wasn't much in this chapter. The next one will introduce Gabriella's father; a verrryyy interesting character. And of course the Troyella relationship will continue to grow and Keller's character will develop as well. Oh you are all in for a BIG SURPRISE! Thank you for reading and please review!

XOXO

LV