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 :)