When Troy returned to the hotel, he found the team all in Jay's room (which was connected to his). He walked in and the conversation slowed down.
"Oh hey Trey… I mean Troy… dude." Derek said lamely, and Troy had to laugh.
"Call me whatever guys, doesn't matter." Troy laughed and sat down, grabbing himself one of the beers the boys were having.
"Coach told us about the suits. Sorry man. That sucks big time." Jay said.
"Yeah but what can you do? It's alright."
"Are you going to come to training tomorrow – I'll bring cake!" Jay said.
"Well then, I mean, if there's going to be cake I will!" Troy laughed. "Wouldn't miss it for the world man."
"So what's your next move then?" One of the guys asked.
"Dunno for sure yet. But I've got a plan. I've dealt with worse."
The rest of the night was spent drinking, laughing and playing poker. This had become Troy's new family and his home so he was sad to leave them, just as they were sad to see him go. But the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. And even though it seemed the lord was fuckingeth upth Troy's life, it could always be worse
( Front page newspaper article submitted by the same guy who interviewed Sharpay.)
"HEAR ME: TROY BOLTON"
If there is one lesson I have learned in life, it is that one must constantly be distinguishing fact from fiction. Official histories, news stories surround us daily, but the events of art reach us too late, travel languorously like messages in a bottle. Yet it is these events that shape our individual stories, and our lives.
I know that earlier this week, many of you who now read my own words also bore witness to the unveiling of the 'true' "Trey Parker" story. The consequences of that particular article continue to expand and develop like ripples in my tide pool. Having been officially put on probation, tomorrow morning in front of the entire San Antonio Spurs Board my 5-year contract will be torn up and I will find myself again a free agent with no job, no money and no school-leaving certificate. Such is life.
However I don't write this in order to obtain your pity or charity, I write it for myself. Even with my hindsight vision being 20/20, I still will never understand some of the disastrous choices I made, particularly now that I can see the wider affects of all said decisions. Today I come to you merely with the truth, for you to do with it what you please.
Fact: 'Trey Parker' is nothing but an alter ego I created for myself in an attempt to run blindly away from my past.
Fact: As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew this was never going to work.
Fact: My alter ego 'Trey Parker' is now officially dead. He has served his purpose, but he has no past, and subsequently no future.
With Trey Parker nothing but I distant memory of an attempt in vain to hide from the whole Albuquerque community, I, Troy Bolton am now to attempt to order the chaotic tumble of events which is my past and present them to you in a somewhat logical and coherent manner.
My name is Troy Liam Bolton. I was born on April 5, 1987, to my parents Jack and Anna Bolton, making me 19yrs old.
5 days ago one of my fellow teammates and myself were arrested for reckless behaviour. We were swimming in the fountain at the plaza. No one was hurt in said incident, and both of us wish to extend our most sincere apologies to anyone who took offence to our disrespectful actions.
I attended East High School while living in Albuquerque. I was a good student (for the most part) and maintained a B+ average. For most of the time I attended there I had a girlfriend named Gabriella Montez who was, and remains still, the captain of the champion EHS Scholastic Decathlon team. Together Gabriella and I starred in the winter production of Twinkle Towne, written by our dear friend Kelsie Neilson, which still holds it's title as the most successful musical the school has ever produced. I made the Varsity Basketball team in freshman year, and was the first sophomore ever to be a starter. I became captain and along with my father, Coach Jack Bolton – former Wildcat captain, lead my team to win the championships that year. This would be a movie if everything ended there.
I soon developed an acute case of chronic clinical depression. Having a mother who worked many hours a week and a father who at the time seemed only interested in the Troy Bolton who played basketball, I found myself feeling unable to approach anyone about the black thoughts and suicidal ideations I was experiencing. This was mistake number one – not to mention a very large one. As I continued to change I found myself distancing from my friends as I felt I no longer belonged within the confines of their cookie-cutter lifestyle. Mistake number two was distancing myself from my close-knit group of friends in fear of being judged. I know now looking back that this move was ludicrous, and that if someone is a true friends, you'd be surprised at how understanding they can be. The truth was I was ashamed of myself – I thought that my depression was simply a reflection of weakness and my inability to rise to the occasion. I know now that these thoughts were simply another side effect of this disease.
Before I knew it, I had replaced all my friends with a crowd of people who I felt did not judge me. It's true what people say – talking to strangers was easier that letting my guard down to the people who expected so much of me. The article about my life from earlier this week described these guys as "a really rough crowd of hoods," and described myself as a "greaser." These statements, and these labels, reflect nothing more than a lack of communication and understanding between two classes of society. These boys that people so easily dismiss as lost causes and drug lords are, for the most part, not all out to make trouble. The police and the suits of Albuquerque brush them off and use them as scapegoats for all the social problems our city faces, and fail to realise that this behaviour only serves to further polarise the two classes and disintegrate any attempts at understanding. The boys that I hung out with came mostly from broken homes. Many of them labelled as "dropkicks" are only high school dropouts because they need to work full time jobs to help their families so they can afford to feed themselves and their younger siblings. I'm not saying they are all saints, but I do encourage you all not to write them off like most people subconsciously do because their clothes are dirty or their language is crude. The understanding I got from these people and their lower class community gave me hope and kept me alive, and has taught me never to judge anyone until you really give them a chance to be understood.
My girlfriend Gabriella broke up with me a few months later. Many of you will judge her because of this, but I for one admire her strength and courage in what was a difficult situation. She didn't understand what I was going through, but this is only because I give her a chance to. She tried to be the best significant other that she could be for as long as she could stand my hurtful behaviour. Her decision was a painful blow of course, I loved her, and I continue to love her for everything she is, but even at the time I knew she didn't deserve to be at the blunt end of my distant behaviour, and I hope that in time she will forgive me for everything I put her through and will give me a chance to redeem myself so I can once again call her my friend.
I continued to attend school in an attempt to keep up my appearances, although in time my mood sunk to the point where I no longer cared about anything or anybody. I became a heavy smoker – partly because all my current friends smoked, and partly because I wasn't planning on living long enough to actually develop cancer or suffer any of the other side affects. On occasions I attended school intoxicated by various substances, and on that note would like to extend my sincerest apologies to any teachers or students who took offence to my behaviour, or who I hurt in any way, I promise you it was not my intent. Looking back I can clearly see the stupidity of my behaviour, as it only served to further alienate me from my fellow classmates and former friends.
Enter Emma Wiltshire; EHS new student. Emma joined our school year in the middle of all this. She did not hold prejudices against me for my behaviour that had estranged me from the student body as she had not been present for it, and being the 'new kid' was also on her own in the school. From the second I met her she was a constant source of compassion and understanding. Even though I was in a very dark place and felt myself incapable of love, I found it easy to love her. With us it was always simple, we didn't even have to talk we could just sit together or walk together in silence, and for that time, everything was ok.
So we come to the next point of the earlier article; self harm. I do admit to have a problem with self-harm. Feeling like I had no where else to turn to, and having been coalesced from the East High student body, it seemed like I only means of escapology - at least it was the cheapest. But I do not blame anybody but myself, for it was my own personal decision. I did take a substance overdose and was found on the school roof. Needless to say I recognise this as a huge mistake with wider affects for others than I had previously considered. My overdose served as a catalyst for a memory block. My brain had blocked out all my memories from the months or so before hand, and in particular it blocked out my memory of people; those in particular who my brain had associated as those who 'rejected' me during my mental disintegration. As was accurately stated in the pervious article, the only person I recognised was Emma Wiltshire, as my brain recognised her as a beacon of support and strength.
The next few weeks in this story are hazy to me. It was a period of re-learning in which I spent most of my time with Emma and her brother Gavin, who I became very close to, and my mother who was the first person my mind remembered. The specifics of said time are lost in an overwhelming state of confusion in an attempt to piece together the shards of a shattered life, and continue to fight my illness. This overwhelming task led me to run away from Albuquerque, and everyone in it via hitch hiking, and I began again as 'Trey Parker' in San Antonio.
I do not condone what I did. As I mentioned before, on my return to Albuquerque I now see the wider affects that my decisions had on all the people around me. I do not ask for your forgiveness, I know that I do not deserve it, I ask only for your understanding. I was in a bad place at a bad time in my life. You think you own the world until you watch it come crumbling down in front of you, for I know now that you can own the world, but without happiness, you have nothing.
To my parents: I'm sorry I couldn't be son you guys deserved. If you blame yourself please don't, as it was never your fault, we all just simply do the best we can. You did the best you could, and I could ask no more of you than that.
To the gang: it seems so long since I had called you all that. I won't name you but you know who you are. I pushed you away and I see now how wrong that was. You guys were the best friends I ever had, and even if I never again can call you my friends, I take comfort in the fact that you all will look out for each other and give each other the love and respect that you all so deeply deserve.
To my beautiful Emie: you loved me when I couldn't even love myself. No matter how unhappy I became you always found a way to smile. I admire your pure heart, and the way you're always giving all of you to everyone around you. Know that no matter what, I will always love you, and I hope to give myself to you forever: I'll make you smile for all the time God will give us in this world to help you forget the times I made you cry. You were the one to never give up on me, and I will never ever give up on our love.
To all: If I have upset you, I'm sorry. If I have angered you, please let it pass. And if I have disappointed you, or made you ashamed of me in any way, please give me the chance to redeem myself.
And finally: to anybody out there who is experiencing depression on any level of severity, I urge you not to suffer in silence. The people around you that you may doubt give them a chance to be there for you, as you would want to be there for them. Do not be afraid of judgement, but seek peace of mind. Do not think of yourself as weak, but show your strength of character by seeking refuge with those who care.
By the time most of you read this, I will no longer be a San Antonio Spur. This thought saddens me as I write this, but mostly just raises questions. This is my past, such as it is, but my present is basketball. I for one do not understand why my contract to play sport for your entertainment should be tarnished as a consequence of decisions I made years ago in a state of poor mental health. My past is patchy and all over the place, but now I have picked myself up and have started again. I have given everything I have to the game of basketball, and ask of you to consider as well why a sportsman is fired for past events, which have no consequences to his current behaviour or skills on the court? Playing for you all last week was the greatest honour I have ever had, and has put in perspective the events of the past and the path of the future. Don't give up on me, I will come back, even if it takes me years, because I love this game, and I know that I'm good enough because I have worked my butt off for it and given it my all. I ask you to value sportsman for the athletes they are, and don't let another one be passed on as I have been.
Troy Bolton.
Hope you guys liked the chappie please review!!! I only got 1 review for the last chappie and that made me sad! Only 2 more chappies left:o !
Next chappie:
Effects of the plan with –
Troy and parents
Troy and gang
Troy and Emma
Troy and ???????? that ones a surprise