ET Chapter 14: Past and Perfection…both a bitch
The next morning, Troy woke up dazed and confused. His body was sore from all the beatings, but the pain somewhat lessened to a bit bearable.
Looking up at his alarm clock, he saw it was fifteen past eight. He nearly jumped out of bed.
He was late. Why didn't his alarm ring early? Why didn't his dad woke up him up for his training? More importantly, why didn't anyone think about coming into his room and waking him up for school?
"God dammit!"
Quickly, he ran into his closest room to throw on the nearest shirt, pants, and shoes his hands could grab, not really seeing but only hoping they went together. Once he was dressed, Troy rushed back to his room, running upstairs to his library. He rushed over to his computer, his twelve page report on the French Revolution waited for him on the laptop. He packed it into his folder, went back downstairs, and stuffed all his binders and books into his backpack.
It was only when he was trying to squeeze everything in while retying his shoes, it hit him. Hit him hard like a punch in the gut.
Gabriella coming here.
His dad catching them in bed together.
His dad falsely adoring him. Treating him as if he was a son to be proud of.
Nearly beating him to death and screaming at him.
That he was weak. Fucking weak.
He was only a good time away from ruining his future, everything that they've worked for.
He was the reason Mike was dead.
"Mike would have been alive and successful if it wasn't for you."
Today was December 14. Mike's Birthday. He would have been twenty two. A lump, hard and painful, emerged in his throat. His backpack slipped off his hand, crashing onto the floor. His things spilled out, shattering all over, but he didn't notice it.
Today was his birthday. As the realization came over again, everything that was churning and colliding in him abruptly stopped.
Stopped. Turned off. As if a switch has been pulled.
Leaving him numb. Completely, one hundred percent numb.
Like a robot, he untied his shoes and placed them under the coffee table. He left his backpack and books on the ground for the maid to get it later. He went back into his closet, his eyes browsing through the shelves until they located that he was looking for: a dirty, ratty EHS sweatshirt hoodie that stuck out like a sore thumb in his perfect, neat arrangement.
It was dirty, had stains with some burns around the torso and the neck, and worn-out. It was the only thing he had left of him that was still warm.
Troy unbuttoned his shirt and zipped up the sweatshirt, wrapping his arms around himself. It was the closest thing he had to a hug from Mike in the longest time. It was his favorite sweatshirt and lucky charm, convinced it had power.
It was ironic. His brother wore this sweatshirt the last night he was alive, but he ended up dead. Because he gave it to Troy, saying he could use it more than him. Somehow the sweatshirt was the only thing that made it out not bad, suffering minor stains and burns.
"Wouldn't want the birthday boy to catch a cold," he joked, shrugging off his hoodie and helping Troy into it.
That was two minutes before he died.
Sometimes Troy couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Mike had it on. Would he still be alive? Would the cars never come?
Those were questions he would never have the answer to.
He left his room and went to the elevator, pressing a button. As the doors slide open, he was met by Gregory and Doris's shocked expressions as they took in his appearance. The butler recovered quickly from his shock, But Doris was still dumbfounded.
"What has he done to you?!" she gasped, incredulous.
His scars must really be bad if that was how she was reacting. Probably much worse than he thought.
Almost everyone on staff knew about the abuse going on in the Bolton household. They've heard the screams, seen the scars, and often times wondered if an ambulance was needed. But they never once acted upon it.
It wasn't because they were all heartless. It was because of the master of the house, Jack. The slimy bastard had dirt on every single one of them, some dark scandal from the past or hidden shame that could easily ruin them. So if they squeaked, they were screwed.
Gregory cleared his throat loudly, reminding Doris not to react. She quickly got herself together. He then made some room for Troy in the elevator. Neither one said a word about what he was wearing or the date. They knew better.
"Which floor, Mister Troy?" the butler asked.
"The fourth floor." His zombie-like lips uttered. He felt pointed looks being exchanged behind him, but he didn't care.
Jeffery said nothing and followed the order. They rode down to Mike's floor in complete silence. Troy stepped off and made his way down.
It felt too quiet, too still. It was practically a ghost's town. Troy remembered once, a long time ago, this floor was the loudest area of the house. Loud music practically thumping through the walls. People coming or going that were friends or tutoring students/ His brother's laughter bouncing through the halls.
Troy wanted to hear that laughter so badly. Just one more time.
He made his way past Mike's entertainment theater, hid old toy room, and came to his room. He opened the door slowly and walked inside.
Mike's room was designed as Troy's, but somehow it was more. More posters, more books, more trophies and awards that praised him. But everything was still, so lifeless and empty it was sickening.
No one entered the floor, much less step foot into his room, since the funeral. The servants never came up, his mom didn't set foot into the house for three months, and he dad locked himself up in his office with his liquor. But Troy did.
As horrible and sick as it sounded, every year on Mike's birthday and his own birthday and the day Mike died, Troy would come to the fourth floor. He would come wearing Mike's favorite sweatshirt that survived the crash, lay down on his bed, and remember.
He'd remember Mike since the age of six coming home with countless letters, ribbons, and awards from teachers that were wowed by him.
He'd remember Mike juggling not only basketball and school, but also track, advance college classes, tutoring various kids and peers, volunteering at the local hospital and nursing home, and still be at the top of his class. Number one in the whole school.
His dad always said from the time Mike was one and knowing the alphabet forwards and backwards, he was a little genius. He skipped middle school, graduated from high school early, and was already a junior in U of A at seventeen.
Scouts from professional basketball teams in the US came to games to watch him play. Every team wanted him as their player, but the LA Lakers that won him because it was his favorite team.
His parents were so proud of him, Jack especially. Yet as proud as Jack was of him, he wasn't completely satisfied. With Jack, good was never good enough. It wasn't even an opinion. You had to be the best, the best of the best. He made sure Mike was during twice as much, even though it was already than enough for someone to die from the exhaustion.
Whenever Mike would come over, he looked like he was ready to collapse any second. He looked that tired, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. He spent more time sleeping than doing anything else.
Troy remembered how tired Mike was when he came home for his twelfth birthday. He was so tired, even his bags had bags under his eye lids and was out of it. So tired, he told Troy he couldn't give him present.
"But you promised!" He knew he sounded like a whiny brat, but he couldn't help it. Mike was breaking a promise. That was something so shocking like a priest burning his own Bible.
"Troy," His mom leaned over and put her hand over his, using her soothing baby voice on him. "You need to be considerate. Your brother needs to rest."
Considerate? He needs to be considerate?! He stared at his mother, stunned. Despite how he came off, he did understand. He always understood Mike's needs. He hid his disappointment every time Mike had to miss out on his own important events. Tried to ignore his parents giving all their attention and love to his brother with none left for him. This time, though, why couldn't something for once be for him?
Today was his birthday, his day, but it didn't feel like that. His parents have been gone all day, Lucille spending hours working on a new shade and Jack training Mike. He was left alone to have himself a small breakfast buffet, accepted the few calls from relatives who remembered the date, and ordered his cake.
"Besides," his mom continued. "It's only an art exhibit. That's nothing compare to the many wonderful gifts you have today."
"It's not just a museum!" It was a whole new museum altogether, featuring great treasures and painting from over hundred of years ago. Not to mention an exhibit featuring his favorite artist, Francisco de Goya that had some of his first and very best works. Just seeing one of those pictures, being able to capture them on his camera, meant more to him than all the basketballs, game consolations, money, and gift cards combined.
His mom waved a dismissive hand, his words falling onto deaf ears. His dad became annoyed and said pointedly "It's a museum that will be here even after your birthday."
Right. Code for drop it. Now.
Troy turned back to Mike, who gave him an apologetic glance while listening to hid dad's review of his performance. Looked at his mother, who was on the phone with an employee about a possible new makeup line for Halloween. His appetite was gone in an instant, and he left the table.
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, the newly turned twelve year old thought as he went up to his room.
Sadly, his birthday didn't improve after that. It only worsened as the years went by. For his seventeenth birthday, with Mom on business and Jack drinking himself to a coma in his study, he was forced to come up with something.
Oddly enough, he was doing the same thing he did on his birthday on his brother's.
After dinner was cleared and everyone went to their rooms, Mike came up to his room, baring two slices of cake. Handing his little brother a slice, he told him to hurry up and get changed.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because," Mike's blue eyes sparkled, making him look less worn-out and more like his old self again. "We're going to the museum."
They had such a good time, possibly the most they had for a long time. Mike was still tired, though. There were some times Troy would find his nodding off, his heavy eyes dropping. Still, his brother was stubborn and refused to cut their time short, showing how much he cared and what a good brother he was.
So why again did he have to die?
**********
For three straight days Troy was a zombie. A zombie whose body has been practically attached to his bed.
He didn't answer calls from the staff, left all the trays of food Doris brought him by the door, untouched. He didn't bother to reply from his friends' messages and missed calls. He hadn't heard from either one of his parents.
None of it mattered to him because he was so numb. He didn't feel anything, didn't think. All he did was to breathe and remember. When he was numb, he could think about his brother without agony and anger tearing him down. He remembered every memory he had of his brother without feeling the least bit guilty.
He wondered if this numbness was the same thing addicts feel when they inject drugs into their system. That nothing could get to you, hurt you, made you feel like your problems were dimensions away.
If that was the case, then he understood why people experimented. Understood why people get addicted so easily. Because the feeling, this numbness, this high, was unlike anything. And amazing.
Sadly though, like most thins, nothing lasted forever. Not people, not a buzz, and definitely not numbness.
The next morning Troy woken up, feeling so cold. Achingly, numbing cold like he was stark naked in the coldest parts of the North Pole. The warm blanket that protected, felt so soothing and numbed, was gone, leaving him so exposed and vulnerable.
There was nothing to protect, nothing to cancel out the feelings. Cold reality set in and its cruelty stung like sharp whips. Everything hurt now, his head, his body, and there he was nothing he could do.
Tray ran out of Mike's room, down the hall, into the elevator as if the ceilings were seconds away from collapsing on him. He couldn't handle being in his room, couldn't handle being in the hallway, it felt like such a ghost town.
There was no one in the room, which he was thankful for. Once he got to his room, he went into the closest and tore Mike's sweatshirt, stuffing it deep into the depths of his clothes, never to be seen again. He slipped on a white t-shirt and then went back into his room.
The coffee table and the furniture were complete covered in shopping bags. Lots of shopping bags. Attached to the smallest box at the top of the present was a note from his mom.
Troy,
Every time I come to Europe, I never want to leave. There is simply too much to do here, so much excitement. And in case the packages in your room weren't a subtle hint, too many amazing things to buy.
Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. There's going to be a slight change in our Christmas plans. We'll be going to the Caribbean but after we go to New York to see a show. A client gave me tickets, and it's called the Birth of the Anointed. So bring a good suit to wear (after all we are expected to look presentable).
-Mom
No questions asking him about his well-being. No indication that she missed him. She didn't even bother to attach "Love" to mom.
In other words, it was a normal letter from his mom. She hadn't contacted him since the fiasco Thanksgiving dinner, and this was all she had to say.
Too fucking typical.
Crumbling the note in his hands, Troy tossed it into the wastebasket, making a perfect shot. He was suddenly felt so restless. He needed to do something, anything, and knew he couldn't stay here.
He got himself showered, dressed, and packed the necessities into his bag. His new Fujifilm GA645 camera and extra film. Today, with the snow storm coming in close, seemed like a good day to take pictures.
The park was the perfect place for him to go.
Every one, including his friends, would be at school so he didn't have to worry about questions about where he was for the past three days. And about certain scathes he couldn't hide.
There were plenty of pictures to take. True, it wasn't exactly full like it would on a weekend, but there were definitely a lot of people there. Teenagers near his age playing hokey chilling out, some little kids with their parents or family members were there having snowball fights, people performing tricks on the ice-rank, sliding down the hills on their sleighs, basically having their fun.
At the smallest hill, hidden away by the trees, two brothers on top with their sleigh caught Troy's attention. A boy who was probably eight or nine was helping his brother, who looked about five, on. The little boy seemed horrifed when he looked down, and tried to get off.
"Trust me," Troy heard the older brother said as he walked over to them. "It's going to be fine."
"I don't know, Paul," replied the small one, unconvinced. "It's too high."
"This is the level one slope, bro," 'Paul' explained patiently. "Once you make it down this, you can ride any slope."
The little boy bit his bottom lip nervously, looking down the hill again. "You promise it's not going to be scary."
"I promise." Paul smiled.
"I promise," Mike had said when he placed Troy in front of the sleigh and sat behind him.
Troy shook his head, glancing over at Paul. For a second, he could have swore he saw a familiar sparkling in his eyes he recognized anywhere. Troy shook his head again, trying to clear his mind. A pack of emotions struck him swiftly, but he managed to pass them aside the same time the brothers were riding down the hill.
He made sure to shoot every second of it, recording the scared boy's face from frightened to excitement. Excitement that matched the satisfaction on his older brother's face.
"I did it!" he cried excitedly. "I did it!"
"I knew you could-" Paul didn't get to finish his sentence. His little brother jumped on him, knocking him into the snow.
Laughing, they got themselves off the ground and raced over to the bigger hills.
Troy snapped one more picture of them, smiling but feeling so weird inside. The moment was quickly broken though, when he felt something small but hard hitting him on the back of the head.
"Fuck!" he cried out. He rubbed his head, glancing down at the offender. An acorn.
Another one suddenly hit again. Harder.
"What the fuck!" There was no one else in the area except him. There was no way they could be falling at random.
"It's funny. A teenage boy snapping pictures of little kiddies," Troy looked up. Gabriella was lounging on a high branch, her eyes focusing on her book while she continued to talk. "Practically playing fire with all these parents around who won't hesitate to clue the police in on a possible pedophile."
Montez. He should have known. Though he was curious to know why she decided to use his head for acorn practice, he asked her "Is there a reason why you're here?"
"Isn't there a reason for everything, pup?" She licked her finger and flipped to the next page.
Smartass, he thought. Maybe that should be his nickname for her. Seems to be perfect fit. "I'm really not in the mood for smart-ass comments. What are you doing here?"
Taking her eyes off her book, she gestured her hand toward the oak tree she was sitting on. "Just hanging around, as you can see."
He scowled at her and she smirked at him. He tried another question. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
"Shouldn't you?" she shot back, the smirk gone.
He had no answer to that one, so he kept his mouth shut. Self-consciously, he rubbed his face. Despite the ice-packs he kept on for the past three days, the baseball cap, and hoodie, he felt his scars were visible. Like bright, neon red lights calling everyone's attention to them.
"I wasn't feeling well." he mumbled.
When he looked up again, Gabriella wasn't playing attention to him anymore. She was back to reading. He was positive she didn't hear him, until she said "You're not looking so hot either."
"What's your excuse?"
She stared at him and turned herself around, dangling her legs off the branch. Then suddenly, she fell back.
"Gabriella." Troy started towards her, but stopped. Her bag was hanging off the last branch close to him. Gabriella stood on her hands the next branch lower than the one she was previously on, smirking at his shocked expression.
Her feet swinging into a flip, she flipped and swung her way down like an acrobat, standing next to him in five seconds flat.
"Didn't think I could do I could that, did you?" she said.
"Yeah," He grabbed her bag and tossed it to her. "Gabriella Montez tree climber. Good to know."
He sat down at a bench and checked his camera. He needed to do know something with his hands so he wouldn't feel awkward.
Gabriella sat down besides him. She took out her head phones and picked a song on her black iPod classic. Sitting back, she bobbed her head lightly to the music while she read her book and had herself a cigarette.
Troy tried to suppress his cough. He glanced at the book in her hands. When The Stars Go Blue was the title. The front cover was completely black with a girl. Her back was turned, the back of her head facing him. Her dark hair was tied into a bun with a fully-bloomed, vivid red rose in her hair.
"You were thinking about your brother, weren't you?"
He nearly dropped his camera. He didn't dare look up at Gabriella, and turned his face away.
How was it possible this girl knew what he was thinking about? Or a better question would be why was it every time they meet; she seems to know more about him than he does about her?
Gabriella continued "You had that look in your eyes. Like your body was here, but your mind was in the past. I'm guessing Mike taught you how to ride a sleigh like that brother did."
He did in fact. And Troy was the same age as that small boy, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "You always so good at reading people."
Her signature smirk spread across her lips. "Since I'm so good at reading books, it only makes more sense if I can read people. Especially those who have the tendency to not only blush easily, but amuse me,"
Right on cue, scarlet red colored his face. He made sure his head stayed to the right side.
"For instance, you're not looking at me because you're worried I'm right and don't want to give me the satisfaction. Your jaw's tightening because I'm now annoying you. Your cheeks are becoming warmer and redder because I'm embarrassing you."
Damn her. He still refused to turn, his jaw was tight and his cheeks burnt.
"You still didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"
Gabriella took her time sucking in the smoke and blowing it out. "I'm leaving." she finally answered.
"What?" The word blurted out of his mouth before he could control himself. He turned back to her.
"I've leaving." she repeated.
Troy didn't know what to say. What could he say? That he was glad? Upset? He also didn't know what to think, particularly about the strange ache churning in his stomach.
She rolled her eyes and explained "I'm not leaving forever, idiot. Sadly," She sighed heavily, blowing out another stream of smoke. "One could only dream. I'm leaving early for vacation. My dance troupe performs a Broadway show in New York for the holidays."
"Oh." Was it odd he felt a twinge of relief lighting up inside? Troy didn't want to think about it. "Have a good trip."
She nodded absent-mindedly, cigarette in between her fingers and mind lost in deep thoughts. Thoughts her face didn't let on.
"At least you're going home, right?"
Her face instantly darkened with a frown. She muttered something in Spanish he wasn't able to make out, but it didn't sounded good.
They sat on the bench together in silence, close to each other to feel body heat radiating from the other but also at a safe distance. Troy snapping pictures once in awhile, Gabriella chain-smoking and reading.
After he shot a picture of a pair of skaters, one high in the air and the other ready to catch her, he looked over at Gabriella. She switched from reading to writing, her pen racing words across the pages, smoke escaping her mouth.
Before he could help himself, the flash went off and the picture was taken.
Gabriella looked up from her journal, not saying. Not glaring. Only looking, her eyes unreadable but enthralling.
The flash went off again.
He was the one who suggested the zoo.
After spending almost three hours at the park, Troy still hadn't lost his restlessness. He thought the cure would be a new location. But this time he decided to have a partner.
For some reason he wanted Gabriella to be there. Maybe it was because she owned him after hitting his head with acorns. Maybe it was because she was one to never press for questions. Or maybe it was because he just wanted her near.
And of that wasn't weird enough, she actually accepted. Apparently, she still had five hours to go for her catch her flight, so she felt like burning time.
"Even if it means spending time with you, pup," she said, pinching Troy's hard, smirking at his scowl.
The Auburn Park zoo was very spacious, with more exhibits being adding, and was packed with people. Even on a snowy, cold December day. Course, there was construction going around and some area restricted, but the zoo was still a good place to be.
Troy's camera was filled with photos of the animals, the kids and the excited faces, the action going on(as much as you can get in a zoo), anything that was worth to be recorded on film.
Besides him, Gabriella was silent. Looking over at the animals, ignoring the pointed looks people gave her for smoking. He'd sometimes ask her a question, and she'd give a one-word answer.
"I haven't been here since I was a kid." Since he was maybe six or seven.
Gabriella simply shrugged. He didn't know what to make of it.
She didn't seem to be in the mood for talking much, but he also wasn't in the mood for awkward silence. So the only opinion was to keep taking and hoping she was at least listening.
"I still don't mind it," he shrugged himself. "I mean I like animals and all. My favorite when I was a kid were dragons. Which explains why every book I read and owed were about knights fighting them. Now, I guess, it would have to be dogs, puppies."
Amusement appeared in her eyes, followed by a smirk as she quickly looked over at him.
Troy frowned, confused. Did he say something off? "What about you?"
Maybe now she'll feel like talking.
Shrugging again, the Latina stomped on her cigarette, her ninth of the day. "Zoos were never really my thing. I don't mind animals, though."
"So which was your favortie?"
"I have five favorites. Starting backwards, ravens would have to be my fifth favorite. Monkeys would be my fourth, then snakes, and cats."
Troy may not have understood the other three favorites, but he got the cat one. Cats, though most act pamper and spoiled, prefer being on their own. Could sometimes be friendly and most of the time unfriendly. And were flexible, an ability he knew first-hand Gabriella possessed.
"So what-" Gabriella suddenly looked over his shoulder, and turned left, into a corridor that was restricted for the day.
"Gabriella!" She didn't turn back, but he could feel her smirk as she blended into the darkness. He looked around, seeing everyone going their way and minding their business, and sighed. He had no choice but to go after her.
It was like going into a cave. Nothing but pure blackness. Somewhere, in the darkness, was his partner. His partner who obviously possessed night-vision since she was able to see her way around. Troy only had the sounds of her footsteps to guide him, but she walked so fast his ears stained to hear the sound.
"Gabriella!" Her name bounced off the walls like an echo. "Gabriella!"
He heard laughter, soft but unmistakably hers.
"This isn't funny!"
Her response was more laughter.
After walking for what felt like hours, Troy turned left and went straight ahead. He finally saw a hint of light all the way across the other side, coming from a closed exhibit.
Exhibit of a silver and black wolf that was said to be deadly. Troy something about that from the local paper. Because of so many requests, the zoo decided to add wolves to their family. Only problem was the wolves aren't exactly the world's nicest animals, so zookeepers needed three months to tame it.
But it didn't seem to matter one bit to Gabriella.
By the time Troy finally caught up with her, she was inside the exhibit. It was done almost like a mini forest. Some dirt and soil, long, and cave. Gabriella stood right in front of the cave, beckoning the beast to come out, not realizing her life might be in danger.
A pair of grayish-blue eyes appeared, blazing vividly against the darkness. A loud, vicious growl made its way through the cave, through the glass, to Troy's ears. He was paralyzed with fear.
Gabriella was still there, beckoning and waiting.
The wolf slowly left its home and came out, into the light. Troy had seen plenty of wolves before in books and movies and TV, but they were two dimensional and tiny. This wolf was huge, almost as big as a bear, its colors black as midnight and moon-silver, sharp fangs bared and deadly malice written across its face.
To say it looked anger would be like saying the Civil War was a tiny disagreement. It was enraged and looked thirsty for blood. The cold, deadly eyes stared at Gabriella, as if she were its' prey, and pounced.
"Gabriella!" Without a second thought, Troy barged into the room, not caring about anything else but her.
To find the wolf cuddling against her.
Troy was flabbergasted. The wolf, who looked like it wanted her head five seconds ago, was acting like a puppy. Gabriella kneeled forward in front of the animal, her head buried in the nape of it's' neck, hands caressing the fur. The wolf rested its' head on her shoulder and nuzzled against her, looking content.
"What the fuck?" he whispered.
Hearing his voice, the wolf switched from content to territorial, standing in front of the girl and baring sharp fangs at him, growling.
"Easy boy," Troy held his hands in surrender and tried to remain calm. His actions only seemed to make the wolf angrier.
"Come over, girl," Both the wolf and boy looked up at Gabriella, who was beckoning the wolf. "Come on."
The "female" dog seemed to growl in protest, but lowered her eyes when Gabriella's eyes became firm. She turned back to growl at Troy one more time, making it count, before coming back to Gabriella's arms. The moment her arms were wrapped around the wolf, she went from being angry to relaxing once again.
"That's a good girl." Gabriella patted her head, and then laid her head back on the wolf's neck.
The blackness of Gabriella's hair blended into the wolf's dark fur. The animal nestled against her as she held her tighter, eyes closed.
It was too good of a photo opportunity to pass up. He then took another when they turned over to him, unreadable expressions on their faces. It was funny to him, because they almost looked like they were one person.
Gabriella burst into another round of laughter again as they walked into Burger King. The more Troy glared at her, the harder and louder she laughed.
"It's not funny, Montez." He said for the thousandth time.
"Oh, yes it is," she replied again, for the thousandth time. "Got tricked by a pair of monkeys was bad enough. But getting your ass beaten by the mother was fucking rich."
She was referring to the little incident that happened at the zoo's monkey area. Troy was trying to get a few pictures of the new infants, and things were going well. Until two slightly older monkeys decided to take his camera. One jumped on his face, tearing his hair and banging on his head while the other snatched the camera. The two little monsters ran up the tree and played catch with his camera, laughing at his expanse like everyone else.
There were no zookeepers to turn to, so he had to up the tree himself, ignoring the laughter and catcalls behind him.
He was so close, too. He would have gotten his camera back. If the brother monkey hadn't decided to shit on his head, weakening him by the powerful stench. If that wasn't humiliating enough, the mother yanked him off the tree, wrested him onto the ground, and then tossed him head-first into the poop pile, which was extra big and foul that afternoon.
Safe to say, he looked and smelt like shit by the time the two flustered-looking zookeepers finally came. Troy had to be stripped down to his boxers in the freezing cold, and then hosed down in front of everyone, who recorded the whole ordeal on their phones, including Gabriella who nearly died from laughter.
"Look at the bright side, pup," Gabriella shrugged innocently, though her smirk was anything but. "They gave free clothes and neat souvenirs as 'sorry we weren't able to help because we were too busy thrusting and reaching climaxes in the janitor's closet.'"
A mother in her late forties with a small boy glared at Gabriella, who smirked at her, and then at Troy before taking her son.
"Mommy, what does thrusting mean?" he asked innocently.
"You always this smooth with words?" Troy watched them go, the mother pointedly ignoring his question.
"It's among my many talents." She winked at him and gave the cashier her order. "A large Double whopper meal, two Hershey pies, and 4-piece cinnamon rolls."
The unfortunate acne-faced, short cashier and Troy did a double take at her.
"Did you get that?" she barked at the cashier, who blushed and quickly typed it in.
Troy ordered for himself a North Carolina BBQ meal, and once they got their food and sodas they took their seats.
Gabriella wasted no time digging into her meal. She took a huge bite of her whooper, miraculously not spilling anything or straining her clothes, and moved onto her fries.
Staring was wrong and he knew he shouldn't do it. But he couldn't help it. He never had seen a girl eat so…bluntly. Most eat a small meal, barely anything, or have a salad like Sharpay.
"Why don't you take a picture? It will last longer." she commented.
He blushed and quickly took a bite of his burger, avoiding her eyes. "Sorry," he swallowed. "It's just that…"
Her left eyebrow shot up questioningly.
"You're a dancer."
Gabriella's eyebrow went higher. "Point being?"
"Point being, well, I thought most dancers don't eat."
The sound that came out from her mouth was a cross between a snort and chuckle. She drank some soda to calm herself down, an amused expression on her face. "Pup, do I look like most dancers?"
To make her point, Gabriella got up and stood beside him. His eyes traveled up and down her body, studying it. Her small size, dangerous curves, full breasts, muscular and lean legs. His mind went back to all the dancers he seen perform in shows his mom dragged him to, taller than her, so thin and skinny.
"No," he shook his head. "You don't have that skeletal, insect look. You're perfect."
Realizing what he said, he blushed and looked away. Why was it his mouth seemed to have a mind of his own today?
Gabriella sat back down on his seat, propped her elbow up, and stared at him. He glanced up, seeing a sudden look appearing and disappearing from her eyes.
Her expression softened a bit. "You're a real chip off the old block, aren't you, pup?"
He almost smiled at her, but then remembered something. Something that had been bugging him since Sunday night and hovering around his mind like a ghost. The way his dad treated Gabriella, nearly beat him to death, and the goals he couldn't forget.
No distractions, his obedient side said, reminding him of all his hard work and the beatings. Across from him, Gabriella, finished with her burger, was having her fries.
This wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done for both his sake and hers. He really didn't want to, but the stakes were too high. "Gabriella, there's something I need to talk to you about."
She swallowed down her fries, leaned back into her chair, and folded her arms.
"Well," Where would he even begin? He rubbed his neck nervously. "I want to apologize for what happened. And what my dad said."
"No es gran cosa." she said.
"Excuse me?"
Gabriella rolled her eyes and translated "It's no big deal."
"It's a very big deal!" he insisted. "What he said was way out of line."
"Pup, I dealt with things a hundred times bigger and meaner than nasty cock-sucker general Jack Bolton."
"Here's the thing…" He paused, thinking of his next words. "It's just…my dad, U of A. Being the best is the only way in my family. Nothing less than a hundred and ten percent. I have to be the best. I can't afford to get distracted."
Before he could say another word, Gabriella cut him off, her face hardening. "Come out with it, pup."
"I think…we should end this. Keep things on a professional level. Be partners but nothing else-"
"You're a coward." She cut him off again, getting up and grabbing her things.
"Gabriella, you don't-"
"Understand," she finished with a sharp smile on her face. "I do, pup. I'm a horrible distraction, a bad influence. You wouldn't want dear Daddy-kins to think you have control of your life."
Okay, now she was going too far. "You have no right-"
"Eres un cobarde. Una verdadera mierda cobarde que no tiene las bolas para contar la polla-lechón no eres su marioneta." Again more Spanish.
She left the restaurant, but he went right after her. "You don't know what its like-"
She turned back to him, and he nearly stumbled on his feet by the sudden stop. "Actually, pup, I do. The funny thing is I actually do. To be put down constantly by someone who's suppose to love and take care of you. To feel so worthless and useless. Be reminded how wonderful things would be if you weren't around. To be thought of as a failure,"
Troy stared at her, baffled.
"But I don't dwell on it. I don't try to win a wasted person's approval of me. Because guess what? It's never going to change. You could cure the cancer, end global warning, and become the biggest thing in the world, but it still won't matter. You're still nothing but shit to them."
She shook her head, sighing. "The sad part is you already know this. You know your dad will never give you the time of day even if you became the new and improved Mike. But you still try. You still fucking try even though there's nothing to prove. And that's just plain sad."
With that, the lone-wolf beauty let him alone in the parking lot, without looking back once.