Chapter
10 (?)
By: msbball8 aka Calli
To:
Troy Bolton
From:
Sgt. Cooper
Blake
Subject: Last
night
Bolton-
Look, man, I can't apologize enough. I don't know what's
going on with you and the brunette, but I didn't mean to blow it. I
was just so surprised to see you there! I mean, Troy Bolton, at the
Animal Medical Center? What kind of crime could he be following up
on? Certainly one of fowl nature....
Sorry. Couldn't
resist.
Seriously, we were just there to check on, Henry, the
precinct's bomb-sniffing pooch. Some clown fed him a bunch of KFC
left over from lunch, and you know what they say about dogs and
chicken bones....
Well, it turns out to be true. Although
Henry is expected to make a full recovery.
What were
you doing there, man? You looked strung out. Well, for a guy with a
hot babe like that on his arm.
Let me know if there's
anything I can do to make up for it.... Fix some parking tickets,
maybe? Have the brunette's husband held without bail for the
weekend. Whatever.
Anything, anything to make it right again.
Cooper
To:
Sgt. Cooper Blake
From:
Troy Bolton
Subject:
All is forgiven
At
least for now. Last night, I could have easily throttled you.
Not that it was in anyway your fault. I mean you saw mw. You said,
"How's it going, Bolton?" as any normal person would.
How were you to know that I am currently living under an assumed
name?
But what started out to be the most disastrous evening
of all time—who knew that cats eat rubber bands? I certainly
didn't—turned out to be pure bliss.
So consider yourself
forgiven, my friend.
And as for the brunette, well, it's a
long story. Maybe I'll even tell it to you someday. Depending on
how it turns out, of course.
Right now, it's back to the
Animal Medical Center for me. I have to bail out the cat, who has
supposedly recovered nicely from his intestinal surgery. And on the
way home I am going to but that cat the biggest, smelliest fish you
ever saw, as a thank you for his kind thoughtfulness in ingesting
that rubber band
Troy
To:
Gabby Montez
From:
Taylor McKessie
Subject:
Well???
What
did you wear? Where did you end up going? Did you have fun?
WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED???
Tay
To:
Taylor McKessie
From:
Gabby Montez
Subject:
It happened
What did you wear?
I wore my short black Calvin Klein wraparound skirt, with my V-necked light-blue three-quarter-sleeve silk sweater and matching blue ankle strap sandals with the three-inch heel.
Where did you end up going?
We didn't end up going anywhere. Not for dinner, anyway.
Did you have fun?
YES.
WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED???
It
did.
Okay, well, not really, but almost. What happened was, I
was applying my final layer of lipstick when there was a knock on the
door. I went to answer it. It was Troy. He actually had on a tie! I
couldn't believe it. He looked really great—only really worried.
So I was all, "What's wrong?"
And he went, "It's
Tweedledee. Something's wrong. Would you mid coming to take a
look?"
So I went and took a look, and sure enough,
Tweedledee, who is quite the more active and affectionate one of Mrs.
Evans two cats, was lying underneath the table looking like a little
kid who had eaten too many Oreo's. He didn't want anyone touching
him, and growled when I tried to.
Anyway, I suddenly remembered
something, and I went "Oh, my God, have you been removing the
rubber bands from around the
Chronicles when you bring
them in?" Because you know the Chronicle
thinks so well of itself that it always comes bound in a rubber band,
to keep the sections from falling out, since its customers would
freak out if one single section was missing, and they didn't get to
read the financial news or whatever.
And the Troy went, "No.
Am I supposed to?"
And that's when I realized I had
forgotten to tell him the most important thing about
cat-and-dog-sitting for his aunt: Tweedledee eats rubber bands. So
did his brother, Tweedledum. This is why Tweedledum is no longer with
us.
"We've got to get this cat to the hospital right away!"
I cried.
Troy looked stunned. "You're kidding, right?"
"No I'm serious." I went and got the cat carrier down
from where Mrs. Evans always kept it, the top shelf of the linen
closet. "Wrap him in a towel."
Troy just kept standing
there. "You're actually serious."
"I am totally
serious," I said. "We have to get the rubber band removed before
it blocks something."
Actually, I have no idea if a rubber
band could block something, but you could tell by looking at his
glazed eyes that he was one sick animal.
So Troy got a towel
and we bundled up Tweedledee (Troy sustained several evil-looking
scratches before he accomplished this) and took him to the Animal
Medical Center, which is where I know Mrs. Evans took Tweedledum when
he had his fatal encounter with the rubber band off a copy of the
Chronicle. I
know because she asked mourners to send them a donation in lieu of
flowers after Tweedledum's demise.
The minute we walked in,
they whisked Tweedledee off to X-ray. Then there was nothing we could
do except wait and pray.
But it was kind of hard to sit and
pray, you know, when all I could think about was how much I hate the
Chronicle,
and here is was, tuning my big date. At least, I thought it might've
been a date. I just kept thinking about how the Chronicle
is always scooping us, and how they have to have their Christmas
party at Pacha NYC, (A/N:
There is one in NYC…I don't own it though.)
and how ours is always at AMF Bowling Center. And how their
circulation is like a hundred thousand more than ours, and how they
win all the journalism awards, and their style section is in color,
and they don't even have a gossip page.
Well, it just
started making me laugh. I don't know why. But I just started
laughing about how once again the Chronicle
had managed to ruin something for me.
The Troy asked me why I
was laughing, and so I told him (not the part about how the Chronicle
had ruined our date, but the rest of it).
So then Troy started
laughing, too. I don't know why he
was laughing, except, well, he doesn't exactly strike me as the
praying type. He kept laughing in these little bursts. You could tell
he was trying not to, but sometimes it would come out.
Meanwhile the weirdest people kept coming in, with the strangest
emergencies! Like one lady was there because her golden retriever had
eaten all her Prozac. Another one was there because her iguana had
taken a flying leap from her seventh-story balcony (and landed
seemingly unharmed on the roof of a deli below). A third lady came in
because her hedgehog just "wasn't acting right."
"How,"
Troy whispered to me, "is a hedgehog supposed to act?"
It
really wasn't funny. Only then we really
couldn't stop laughing. And everyone was giving us these really
mean looks, and that just made me laugh harder. So we were sitting
there, the dressiest people in the place, pretending to be
comfortable in the hard plastic chairs and trying not to laugh, but
doing it anyway....
At least until all these cops came in.
They were there to check on one of their bomb squad dogs, which had
choked on a chicken bone. One of them saw Troy and went, "Hey,
Bolton, what are you
doing here?"
That's when Troy stopped laughing. He got
very red all of a sudden and went, "Oh, hi, Sergeant Blake."
He put a very hard stress on the word Sergeant. Sergeant Blake
looked quite taken aback. He started to say something. But right then
the vet came out and called, "Mr. Evans?"
Troy jumped up
and said, "That's me," and rushed up to the vet.
The vet
told us that Tweedledee had, indeed, swallowed a rubber band, and
that it was tangled in his small intestine, and that surgery would be
necessary or the cat would definitely die. They were willing to do
the surgery at once, only it was very costly, 1,500 dollars, plus 200
for the overnight stay at the hospital.
1,700! I was shocked.
But Troy just nodded and reached for his wallet and started to pull
out a credit card....
And then he puts it away really fast and
said he forgot, all his credit cards were maxed out, and that he
would just got to the bank and get cash.
Cash! He was going
to pay in cash! 1,700 dollars in cash! For a cat!
Only I
reminded him that you can't get that much cash from a bank machine
in a single day. I said, "Let me put it on my card, and you can pay
me back later." (I know what you're going to say, Taylor, but it
isn't true: He would've paid me back, I know it.)
But he
absolutely refused. And the next thing I knew, he'd gone over to
the cashier to arrange a payment plan, leaving me alone with the vet
and all of the cops, who were still standing staring at me. Don't
ask me why. Undoubtedly my too-short skirt was to blame.
Then
Troy came back and said it was all taken care of, and the cops left,
and the vet suggested we stay until the surgery was over just in case
there was any complications, so we went back to our seats and I went,
"Why'd that policeman call you Bolton?"
And Troy went,
"Oh, that's just how cops are, they always make up their own
nicknames for people."
But I got thee feeling that there was
something that he wasn't telling me.
He must have realized
it, too, because he told me that I didn't have to stick around and
wait with him, that he'd pay for a cab home for me, and that he
hoped I'd take a raincheck on dinner.
So I asked him if he
was crazy, and he said he didn't believe so, and I said anyone with
as many nicknames as he has definitely has some major problems, and
he agreed with me, and then we argued pleasantly for about two hours
about which serial killers were the most deranged, and finally the
vet came out and said Tweedledee was recovering nicely and we could
go home, and so we left.
It wasn't too late to get dinner by
Manhattan standards—only ten o'clock—and Troy was all for it,
even though we'd missed the reservation at wherever he'd planned
on taking me. But I wasn't up for battling the late-night supper
crowd, and he agreed and said, "Want to order Chinese again or
something?" And I said it would probably be a good idea to comfort
Buffy and Mr. Peepers, who were surely unsettled by their missing
feline brother. Plus I had read in the TV
Guide that The
Matrix was showing on
PBS.
So we went back to his place—or his aunt's place, I
should say—and ordered moo shu pork again, and the food arrived
just as the movie was starting, and so we ate off of Mrs. Evans'
coffee table, sitting on her comfy black leather couch, on which I
dropped not one but two spring rolls covered in that orange stuff.
Which was, incidentally, when he started kissing me. Seriously. I
was apologizing for getting that orangestuff all over his aunt's
couch when he leaned over, stuck
his knee in it, and
started kissing me.
I haven't been that shocked since my
tutor student did almost the same thing, you know the one in our
freshman year in high school. Only there wasn't ant orange gunk and
we'd been talking about integers, not paper towels.
And let
me tell you, Ryan Evans is a way better kisser than my tutor student
ever was. I mean, he has got the kissing thing down pat. I was afraid
the top of my head was going to blow off. Seriously. He's that
good of a kisser.
Or maybe he isn't that good of a kisser.
Maybe it's just been so long since anybody has kissed me like he
meant it—you know really
mean it—that I forgot what kissing is like.
Troy kisses like
he means it. Really means
it.
Still, when he stopped kissing me, I was in such a state
of head spinning shock that all I could do was blurt out, "What
did you do that
for?" which probably sounded rude, but he didn't take it that
way. He went, "Because I wanted to."
So I thought about
that for like a split second, and then I reached up and put my arms
around hi neck and said, "Good."
Then I did some kissing
of my own. And it was really nice because Mrs. Evans' couch is very
comfy and soft, and Troy kind of sank down onto me and I kind of sank
down into the couch, and we kissed for a very long time. In fact, we
kissed until Buffy decided he needed to go out, and stuck his big wet
nose between out foreheads.
That's when I realized I better
get out of there. First of all, you know what are mothers always said
about kissing before the third date. And second of all, not to gross
you out, but there was some very interesting stuff happening
downstairs, if you know what I mean.
And Ryan Evans is
definitely NOT gay. Gay guys do not get full on stiffies from kissing
girls. This much even a small-town girl from the South knows.
So, while Troy was cursing Buffy put. FYI: That boy can swear like no
tomorrow. I was composing myself and saying, "Well, thank you very
much for the lovely evening, but I think I have to go now," and
then I tore out of there while he was still going, "Gabby, we have
to talk."
I didn't wait. I couldn't. I had to get out
while I still had control over my motor functions. I am telling you,
Taylor, this guy's kisses are enough to numb your brain stem,
they're that good.
So what's to talk about?
Well,
there's one thing: Taylor, I'm letting you know right now. I am
bringing a date to your wedding.
Gotta go. Fingers are
cramping up from writing too much, and I still have tomorrow's
column to do. I can't believe Vanessa and I both have guys at the
same time! It's like how she and Ashley are going out with Zac and
Jared—only better! Because it's me!
Gabby
To:
Gabby Montez
From:
Taylor McKessie
Subject:
I hope at the very least
You let him pay for the Chinese food.
Tay
To:
Taylor McKessie
From:
Gabby Montez
Subject: Well of course
He
paid for the Chinese food. Well, except the tip. He didn't have any
singles.
Why are you being this way? I had a great time. I
thought it was sweet.
And it's not like I let him feel me up
or anything for God's sake.
Gabby
To:
Gabby Montez
From:
Taylor McKessie
Subject:
I just think
That
this is all happening too fast. I've never even met the guy. No
offense, Gab, but you don't have the greatest track record where
men are concerned—Jason only being example number one.
I'm
just saying I might feel a little more comfortable about all of this
if I had actually met the guy. We've heard some pretty sketchy
things about him from Sharpay, after all. How do you expect me to
feel? You're like that baby sister I've never had. I just want to
make sure you don't get hurt.
So could you get him to come
pick you up for lunch one of these days? I'd be more than willing
to forgo spinning class....
Don't hate me.
Tay
To:
Taylor McKessie
From:
Gabby Montez
Subject:
You are such
A
mother hen.
But, yes, if you insist, I suppose I could arrange
for the two of you to bump into another somehow.
God, the
things we do for our friends.
Gabby
I AM SO SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I couldn't update at all when I was in Texas….i'm so sorry!!!!!!!!!! You should be getting some quick updates soon.
This chapter is dedicated to laughnsmile96 she is such a sweetie!!!!!
Disclaimer: Don't own jacksquat
Calli
:)
