CHAPTER 2

Troy was certain that his first day at East High School would be fine. He knew the faculty members, and he was excited to start working with them. He felt like he was prepared for anything. Almost anything. He was not prepared for a flat tire at 7:15 when he had to be at school by 7:40 to prepare for his short presentation to faculty before they started teaching for the day.

"Mother fuck…" he mumbled to himself. His dad was already gone for an early morning workout. But he still had options, he reminded himself. He could borrow his mom's car and call her a cab – since she wouldn't be ready to carpool any time soon. Or he could call a cab for himself, but would it be here in the next five minutes? His quick mental list of pros and cons was interrupted by the lock clicking of a car in the next driveway.

"Bye, Mama," Gabriella waved to her mother as she walked over to her car.

"Gabriella! Gabriella!" Troy called and trampled through the bushes to meet her. "Gabriella, can I ride with you? I have a flat."

She smiled, "On the first day of school. Tisk tisk, Mr. Bolton." She was wearing a dress that was as demure as her smile. "Also, look at what you did to our landscaping," she pointed to the bushes and flowers that now lay flat.

He rolled his eyes playfully, "I'm sorry. I'll fix them I promise," he reached out to clutch her hand, "Can I ride with you or not?"

"Only if you drive," she handed him her keys, "I want to finish painting my nails."

"Very uncharacteristic of you," his eyebrow rose as he opened the door for her before rounding the car to climb into the driver's seat.

"It's for chem lab. The first day is just an introduction, and we get to mess around with dyes. We're supposed to wear gloves at all times, but this professor doesn't really care, and we aren't using anything harsh today. The dye comes off skin relatively easily, but not your nails. I hate wearing the gloves. They always make the skin on my hands break out."

Troy nodded as he pulled out of her driveway, "That sounds much more like the Gabriella I know and adore."

She crinkled her nose, "Are you implying that I'm not feminine?"

"I'm implying that cosmetics have never been a priority for you."

"How would you know? You last saw me when I was fourteen."

"I still know you," he winked at her and watched her smile.

"Well, Mr. Smug, did you know that blue is my favorite color?" she wiggled her fingers for him to see her freshly coated blue nails.

"I do now. Your favorite color was red when you were three."

"It was?"

"Yes, because it was the color of strawberries and my bedroom. Your reasons, not mine."

Gabriella laughed, "What can I say? I was a thoughtful toddler."

"Why is blue your favorite color now?" Troy looked over at her and noticed the blush that began to creep up her neck. He smiled as he realized he could get used to learning these subtle things about her. He liked the way her embarrassment was shy to show itself. It was the most characteristically Gabriella thing he could think of.

She shrugged, "Oh, you know, it's just a nice color. Calm, peaceful, whatever…" she trailed off.

"You're lying," Troy called her out with a guffaw, "You are so lying! C'mon, Gabriella, are we really going to play this game?"

"I have no idea what you are insinuating, Mr. Bolton," she denied.

"I'll tell you why my favorite color is yellow."

"Your favorite color is yellow?"

"Yes, it is, because from the time you were five all the way up to when you were fourteen and I left, and even now, I see," he motioned to the yellow flower clip that held her bangs back, "you have adorned your curls with yellow flowers."

"Troy," her voice was gentle and quiet, and she reached over to place her hand on his arm, "you remember that?"

"Of course I do. You would sit for hours making flower chains that you would wear all day. In the winter your mom bought you a headband with fake daisies, and you wore it like every day of fourth grade."

Her hand was still on his arm, and she'd turned her body in her seat so that she could look at him more directly. Her brown eyes were mesmerizing as she swooned over his sweet words.

"So," he said softly, placing one hand briefly on her hand that laid on his arm, "there is no way your reason can be any cornier or more embarrassing than mine, so just tell me why blue is your favorite color."

"Because no one has ever looked at me the way you do, Blue Eyes."

…

Troy sat in his dad's office, waiting for his ride home. He had spent most of his day at East High explaining informed consent and confidentiality procedures to faculty, but he had spent just as much of the day replaying what Gabriella had said to him in the car and wondering how he looked at her. Was it really that special? He loved her no doubt. He'd known her for her entire life. He was at the hospital with his parents on the day she was born. He'd babysat her, taken her to soccer lessons, let her tag along when he played basketball at the park. She was the little sister he never had, so he guessed it made sense that the way he looked at her was extra affectionate.

But when she'd said it, when she'd admitted that no one had ever looked at her the way he did, he felt something strange and different. It was like she was telling him her most heartfelt secret; and as she told him, it felt almost like dread and elation at the same time. He wasn't sure what it meant, but maybe Gabriella felt it too. After all, no one looked at him the way she did. Not even his parents looked at him with the same kind of happiness radiating from their eyes.

"Coach Bolton," his thoughts were interrupted. He looked up to see a student standing in the doorframe. "Oh, sorry. I was looking for Coach Bolton."

"You just got me," Troy smiled. "He's my dad. Maybe I can help you."

The girl in front of him walked into the office, "I have a question about the physical health syllabus. It says we have journal entries due on the twenty-third of October, but are those supposed to be based on class discussions, readings, or what?"

"Great question," he took the syllabus from her hands and flipped to the page that discussed journals, "Let's see what ole Dad has written." He perused the syllabus for a moment before addressing her again, "if you'll look here, it says that there are five journals due that day," he pointed. "You have way more than five classes, so I don't think my dad will expect a journal about each class. Looks like the bulk of the journal will consist of readings and how they relate to class discussions as well as real world topics." He paused for a moment, "When he gets here, why don't I ask him to spend some time next class talking more about this?"

"Thank you! That would be really helpful."

"Not a problem."

The girl smiled before leaving Coach Bolton's office. Troy sent his dad a quick text to let him know that his physical health student had stopped by, and by the time he had finished the short text, someone else was at the door.

"Knock, knock." It was Gabriella. He looked up at her and she seemed different, but almost imperceptivity so. He wasn't sure what it was.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

"I'm riding with you?"

"Yeah. I saw your dad in the hallway. He said he wants to meet with some students because it's never too early for basketball season."

Troy chuckled, "That sounds like him. I'd rather ride with you anyway. Let me just get all my stuff."

Gabriella smiled prettily, "Okay," she moved into the office and sat in one of the chairs. "How was your first day as a researcher?"

"Better than my first day as a high school student. You?"

"The same as the last three years. Is college nice?" Gabriella asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you enjoy it? Are people the same as high school, or is it different?"

"I do enjoy it," he told her as he gathered all his papers and books. "People are different for the most part, but I guess it also kind of depends on your major."

"I was accepted at Stanford," she looked up at his thoughtfully. "I'm double majoring in political science and international policy with a minor in ethics – forever the overachiever," she made fun of herself to hide her inhibitions.

Troy noticed, but didn't question her, "Wow! So basically you are going to change the world."

"I don't know about that. You think they'll like me?" She asked, and Troy could hear the lump forming in her throat – the same way he remembered it sounded right before she cried.

"What happened today, Gabriella?" He came to sit by her.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes, "Boys being boys, and girls being girls. I know not to wear this dress again," she mumbled.

"You look beautiful."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

Her comment caught him off guard, but he didn't have time to ask her about it, because she had stood up and busied herself with tidying the things on Coach Bolton's desk. She didn't seem to want to discuss it anymore. He watched her for a moment before walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met for a few long seconds before Gabriella leaned into him. He hugged her.

"They shouldn't hurt you, Gabriella."

"I'm used to it, Troy," her words were muffled against his chest.

"You shouldn't be. Want me to talk to them? Make them stop?" Troy moved slightly away so that they could look into one another's eyes.

"You were always so sweet and protective, but you've been gone a long time. I've had to learn how to protect myself. And sometimes that means ignoring it."

Troy ran his fingers down the side of her face before cupping her cheek in his palm, "I've missed you so much, Gabriella. I'm sorry I left you." The anguish in his eyes and the sincerity of his words made Gabriella cry.

She sniffed back her tears as she continued to clutch him, "Don't be sorry," she knew he had to go away for school, "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you."

"Let's go home," she pulled away just a bit.

Troy reached down and squeezed her hand before lacing their fingers together, "Let's go home," he agreed. As they walked out of the school together Troy couldn't help but comment, "I don't understand why they are mean to you, though."

"Guys think I'm pretty, and girls don't like that, so I'm accosted on both sides," she said it so matter-of-factly that it hurt his heart.

"That's not right. I can't stand the idea of anyone hurting you."

"And that's one of the reasons I love you."

They made it to her car. Troy opened the door for her before entering his door and starting the engine.

"I'm really glad you're back, Troy," he looked over and saw the tell-tale blush of her cheeks, "You were always my only friend – even if I was just the pesky, little neighbor girl."

Troy chuckled quietly, "You were never pesky. I liked having you around, Gabriella. It was like I got the little sister I never had."

Gabriella lowered her gaze and nodded. She looked up at him as if to say something, but the chirp of her cell phone cut her off. She glanced at it briefly, but Troy's eyes never left her.

"Mom wants us to pick up some produce before we get home. Your family is coming over for dinner."

Troy nodded and finally looked away. He started the car and kept his eye on the road, but admitted something to her, "For the record, I'm glad I'm back too."