Disclaimer: I don't own High School Musical, any of the characters, or any of their songs. I'm not even entirely certain about this storyline...
Once again, there's a song in the chapter. I didn't do the whole thing, but the song is 'Low Man's Lyric' by Metallica. I don't own it, but I encourage people to find it and listen to it, as I think it's beautiful, and probably not what people expect from a band like Metallica.
Chapter Four: Turn
Troy was always quiet, even as he got changed for Basketball, but Chad couldn't help noticing that maybe it was a different sort of quiet today. It was more like he was remembering something, and thinking about something, than like he was trying not to get noticed. Chad had tried ever since the incident to be the best friend he could to Troy, and he had to the best of his ability. The difficulty was that he just didn't know how to deal with the sort of problems Troy was facing.
During practice Troy was paired with Jason for warm-up exercises. These days Chad ran the practices, since the coach never bothered showing up. Jason also noticed something different about Troy, and Jason wasn't famous for his perception. Troy's mind seemed to be elsewhere, although as usual he never missed a trick, his speed returning a pass as superlative as ever, the angles of his bounce-passes as clear cut as if he'd measured them out with a protractor. The wildcats finished their warm-ups, and paused for a drink before starting a practice game. Troy walked over to Chad.
"Hey, man. I was wondering: could I say something to the team?"
Chad nodded, somewhat taken aback, since Troy rarely said anything at all, let alone to more than one person. Still, Chad nodded. He was perfectly aware that he wasn't a brilliant captain, since his own brand of communication was more appropriate to cheering the team up after losing than to inspiring them to win. Coach Bolton, he recalled, had been great at that, and before the incident Troy had shown some sign of having the same talent.
"Hey guys." The team all looked up, and they all paid attention. Considering Troy had only said two words, and those quietly, that was already something. Chad knew, as they all did, that if Troy Bolton felt he needed to say something, they were going to listen. "I know I'm not the captain, but lately I've been thinking." He paused. "Huh. We must be really miserable if not one of you made a joke there." A chuckle rippled through the team, and Chad felt something. Or, maybe just the edge of something. Whatever, he saw smiles appearing on familiar faces that hadn't smiled much recently, and felt one creeping across his own.
"What I have to say is this: I am sick and tired." There was a surprised murmur, but Troy was far from finished. "Tired of losing games, tired of no one caring, and tired of not having any fun. Do you remember that? When basketball was fun, because more important than anything else, it was the sport we loved to play? I've been forgetting that feeling lately, and I don't like it.
"So, I have a suggestion. We have a game on Friday night. I suggest that we forget the losing streak, forget the fact that no one at the school supports us, and even forget that coach only comes to the games to yell at us. I say we ignore all that, and we play like we know we can: like we're having fun, and like we're the best damn team around!"
The pitch of his voice rose as he was speaking until, by the end, he was shouting. The other boys were grinning openly now, infected by Troy's enthusiasm and determination, all trace of their previous apathy gone. Chad smiled broadly, and bellowed the words that hadn't been heard in two years:
"What team!?"
***
Gabriella breathed a gentle sigh of relief as Tash left the classroom, leaving her to collect together her books, bags and thoughts. She did like the younger girl: it was almost impossible not to. She was bright, pretty and funny, and she caught on to new ideas astonishingly quickly. Working with her wasn't a chore; it was fun to share this time with someone, but maybe someone just a little bit younger. If she were completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she enjoyed having someone looking up to her. Not many people aspired to be super-humanly brainy.
Still, all the time they were together, Gabriella had to restrain herself from asking about Troy, from asking about the fights he was always having and his continuing delinquent behaviour. Odd was an understatement: it was downright bizarre how he was so natural with her, so timid and perceptive and… yes, charming, she had finally to admit to herself, when someone as close as his sister knew him as a completely different person. It didn't seem to make any sense.
She shook her head, trying to free herself from these thoughts for a while. Tomorrow was Thursday, and she had a free period: maybe she'd go and see if he was in the music room again.
'You like him,' a sing-song little voice murmured in her mind as she strode down the corridor towards the main entrance of East High. School had finished some time ago, and the hallways were mostly deserted, just a few other stragglers like herself still trickling towards home. She rolled her eyes. Part of the secret of her intelligence was a fine analytical mind, but the problem was that the lines got blurred: the part of her that asked questions all the time merged with the parts that thought about people and the future and difficult things like that, which resulted in her effectively talking to herself, albeit with a number of different voices depending on the subject. She frowned now, though. Normally if she saw a guy she thought was cute it would be Sharpay's voice she heard, and Sharpay's arguments could always be beaten down. This voice was different though. It was her mother, and Gabriella could never ignore her mother's advice.
'Yes, I suppose I do,' she countered in her 'reasoning' tone, which was mostly herself but, oddly, with a little of Kelsi mixed in. 'There are different sorts of 'like', though, aren't there? I like him, because he saved my life, and because he has a nice voice, and because he can hold surprisingly coherent conversations for a sportsman.'
'Yes, but you also like the way he smiles, and the way his eyes twinkle, and the musical quality aside, you just like the sound of his voice.'
Gabriella actually blushed. Her own psyche was making her embarrassed. 'Okay, I can admit that I find him attractive, that maybe I have a little crush. Well, I'm sixteen. Crushes are pretty much to be expected. Why am I bothering myself with this one?'
'Because', said a voice that didn't sound like anyone in particular, and which she rarely heard. The voice was calm and deep, but would not be ignored. 'Because, even that is not the only reason you're interested. You like this boy at least in part because he confuses you, because you can't figure him out at a glance, as you've been able to do with every equation put in front of you since you were eight. This boy is nice, this boy is cute; this boy is also a mystery. And you have no chance ignoring that combination.'
She sighed with relief as the internal conversation ceased: it seemed that her mind was going to let her have a rest for a while. Finally she got to the front door, and as always before leaving she glanced at the boards announcing school events.
There was the notice for the scholastic decathlon team. Taylor had bullied her on to the team in her second week, but she found she enjoyed the edge of competition it put on otherwise standard studying. They were meeting at Sharpay's house tomorrow night: Sharpay wasn't on the team, heaven forbid, but she and Ryan formed the support club, and they made great brownies.
Next to it was the sign-up sheet for the spring musical auditions. They were getting close, and she had still to make her mind up about it. Sharpay wanted her to audition, after having heard her sing at a karaoke party, but she was unsure she wanted to perform in front of a lot of people. Maybe...
She shook her head, and looked at the next board. Sports events, never anything to interest h-
There was a basketball game tomorrow night.
She frowned. Tomorrow night? Well, the team would manage without her... 'Hah! You're even going to one of his games now!' She groaned; they were back.
"Hey, are you alright?"
She started, nearly dropping her bags, and an arm swooped down, catching her arm and keeping her from stumbling. She looked up, and saw two bright blue eyes looking at her with mild concern, the sandy eyebrows above raised eloquently.
'Of course, fate won't let me wait till tomorrow,' she thought as she smiled at him, righting herself. He smiled back and removed his hand. She recalled how, the other day after touching her, he had pulled back suddenly, as if afraid of the contact. She also noticed a slightly warm feeling on her arm and fought to keep herself from blushing.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking. What are you still doing here?"
"Oh, we had an extra basketball practice, and it just finished." For the first time she noticed that his hair was still wet from the shower, and looked darker than usual. She tore her eyes away as he walked over to look at the boards. "And why are you still here?"
She chuckled. "Ironically enough, I was just meeting your sister. My chemistry teacher asked me to work with her on a few things." She noticed suddenly that he had tensed, though he was still looking away from her. "You okay?"
He hesitated, before the muscles in his neck and back relaxed and he turned back to her, smiling. "Yeah. So, you know Tash?"
She nodded. "She's great. She gets what I'm talking about when I go into 'freaky genius' mode. Mostly, even Taylor can't keep up with me when I'm like that."
He smiled, but there was something sad behind his eyes. Regret? Maybe. He turned back to the board. "Well, good luck with the decathlon, though from what I've seen, you probably don't need it."
She smiled back. "And I hope the game goes well tomorrow. I may even come and see it."
He smiled wider. "I hope you do. Although, you may find that you're the only one there, having to face the entire West High crowd on your own."
She chuckled. "I might be able to manage that. How do you think your chances are?" She could have kicked herself after saying the words, but his reaction was not what she expected. He wore a slight smile that said that he knew something she didn't, and his eyebrows quirked to a quizzical angle.
"Oh, I'm quietly confident. I think we're turning a corner."
Gabriella bit her lip, a little unsure as to what to say next; it was like anything she said could be misconstrued into an insult towards the team. Fortunately, he broke the moment, walking up to the other board: the audition sign-up sheets. He stood and stared at them.
"You want to audition?" Gabriella murmured when he didn't move. Troy shifted where he stood, as if he was uncomfortable.
"I don't know. Well, actually, I do know. I do want to. I love music, and I want to be a part of this."
"So? Sounds like your reasoning is better than most of the other people who are going to try out. What's stopping you?"
He sighed, and turned to face her. "I think you know. You know what people think of the team, and what they think of me. And by now, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd heard the whole story." He raised one eyebrow in a question, and she nodded gently. He looked back at the sheet. "Somehow, I don't think they'll want me in their show." The way he said 'they' wasn't vindictive or angry, it was just a fact. Gabriella noted again that just because 'they' were a good thing for her, maybe 'they' weren't a good thing for everyone. She cocked her head to one side.
"Screw them."
He turned to look at her again, his eyes wide with surprise this time. "Excuse me?"
She reached out, resting her hand on his arm. "If you want to sing, or dance, or anything, don't let them stop you. Even if you don't get into the show, do the audition. Show them what you can do. Show them that you're more than what they make you out to be."
Slowly, he took a pen and rested it against the sheet. He stood there, apparently about to sign, for quite a while, appearing to argue with himself. Then Gabriella saw the end of the pen dip. "I can't do it. Not on my own."
Once again, she acted almost without thinking. Still, it wasn't pure instinct that made her reach around him, place her hand over his, and raise it to the other section of the sheet: the one for pairs auditions: even consciously, part of her really wanted this. She wrote their names with his hand quickly, before he could react or she could change her mind, and then dropped his hand. He turned to look at her, a surprised expression on his face.
She shrugged. "You don't have to do it on your own." Her breath came out as little more than a whisper.
Troy smiled, and shyly took her hand, holding it loosely, as if worried that grasping any tighter would cause her to flee. She smiled back, gripping his hand tighter. "Look come round to my house. If nothing else, we'll need to practice if we're going to sing together. Or, are you still grounded?"
He looked into the distance, obviously thinking through something. "No, I got a couple of As, I should be okay…" Then he looked back at her. "Hey, how did you know I was grounded?"
They stepped through the main door and out into the blistering sunshine. Just for once, though, Gabriella didn't really mind. "Oh, the other day I went round to your house, to see if I could thank you for Friday. Your foster dad said you were grounded."
A somewhat ugly look crossed his face, before it cleared and he smiled down at her. For the first time, Gabriella noticed how much taller Troy was than her: she thought the top of her head might just come up to his chin.
"Yeah, I was. I won't be now though. I'd love to come round, if it won't be a problem for your mum."
Gabriella giggled. "She might just want to smother you. I've hardly been able to get her to shut up about you." Not that she had tried all that hard, she added to herself.
Troy blushed a little. "Do you know the song we're meant to sing?"
"I think so. It's one Kelsi wrote; I've got a copy at home. It's really nice."
"Well, that's good. If I'm going to put my reputation on the line, it might as well be a good song."
Gabriella looked at the dead straight expression on his face, before letting go, unable to hold the laughter in any more. The snort she gave was most un-ladylike, but she didn't care, and neither did Troy, who laughed along with her.
"You know," she eventually choked out, "that shouldn't be that funny."
Troy shrugged. "I don't have any particular illusions about myself. I know what I am, and I know what everyone else thinks. The only ones who matter are the ones that know the difference," he said softly, looking at her intently, before glancing elsewhere again, seemingly a little embarrassed. By now they had left East High behind them, and were strolling along streets very like their own, with neat houses to either side looking strangely uniform. "Anyway, I'm not quite as fragile as I may seem."
Gabriella was silent for a while. "Can I ask a question?" Her voice sounded timid, even to herself.
Troy shrugged. "You can always ask. Answers may or may not be forthcoming," he replied, smiling down at her to take the sting out of the words. This time, though, Gabriella didn't smile back.
"How did you get the black eye?"
He was silent for a moment. "I think I just got knocked when I tackled you."
She shook her head. "That's not true. My mum told me that your cheek was bleeding, but your eye was fine. And, it was bad first thing on Monday morning, so it can't have happened at basketball practice."
She stopped, worried that she had scared him with her interrogation. He stopped walking too, and turned to look at her, his eyes unreadable.
"You got me. Look, I'll tell you. Just… not today. Not yet. Monday, maybe."
She nodded, satisfied with that, and they continued walking. It might be stalling, but she didn't think he'd procrastinate any longer. Hesitantly she reached up, stopping her hand when it was a few inches from his cheek.
"It still looks really painful. Are you taking care of it?"
He smiled softly. "Yeah, it hurts, but it is getting better. I use an ice-pack for a while every night, so it's numb before I go to sleep."
She shivered at the thought. "Well, I hope it gets better," she concluded, realising she sounded lame.
He smiled wider and carried on walking. "I'm sure it will."
They chatted about inconsequential things as they strolled onwards: bands, music, films, TV, anything and everything, and Troy couldn't get over the fact that, not only was he enjoying himself, but she seemed to be as well.
Finally they arrived at their own street and Gabriella's house. She unlocked the door to let them both in since her mum was working late tonight, and she showed Troy round the house before leading him up to her room. She was aware that some teenage girls weren't allowed to take boys to their rooms, but she was under no such prohibition, since the matter had just never come up before. She sat on her bed and unpacked her books, while Troy sat in her computer chair, smiling softly as he looked around. After a while, though, she noticed his eyes flickering again and again to her guitar, sitting in the corner, and she laughed aloud. "Troy, if you want to play, just feel free. I don't use it as much as I should anyway."
He smiled widely at her, before standing and fetching it. He plucked a couple of strings and adjusted the tuning pegs very slightly, then settled himself down and started to play.
Again, it wasn't a song Gabriella had heard before. The music was very simple, but sad. Troy's left hand slid smoothly over the frets, while his right danced confidently between the strings, each note sounding just as it should. Soon, just as Gabriella realised she was hoping for it, he began to sing along.
"My eyes seek reality,
My fingers seek my veins.
There's a dog at your back step:
He must come in from the rain.
"I fall 'cause I've let go;
The net below has rot away,
So my eyes seek reality
And my fingers seek my veins.
"The trash fire is warm,
But nowhere safe from the storm,
And I can't bear to see
What I've let me be:
So wicked and worn.
"So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do,
Maybe you'll understand
And you won't cry for this man,
'Cause low man is due.
"Please forgive me.
"My eyes seek reality,
My fingers feel for faith.
Touch clean with a dirty hand:
I touch the clean to the waste.
"The trash fire is warm,
But nowhere safe from the storm,
And I can't bear to see
What I've let me be:
So wicked and worn.
"So as I write to you,
Of what is done and to do,
Maybe you'll understand
And won't cry for this man,
'Cause low man is due.
Please forgive me
"So low, the sky is all I see.
All I want from you is forgive me.
So you bring this poor dog in from the rain,
Though he just wants right back out again.
"And I cry to the alleyway,
Confess all to the rain,
But I lie, lie straight to the mirror-
The one I've broken to match my face."
Eventually he stopped singing, although his fingers kept moving, continuing that same simple melody while he hummed the counterpoint over the top.
"That was beautiful," Gabriella breathed. The simplicity of the song had got to her, along with the candid words. "Did you write it?"
Troy laughed softly, placing the guitar down beside him. "No, I can't take the credit for that. It was a song my Dad liked, and it was the first one I taught myself to play." He smiled at her, and she saw the pain in his eyes. Not what she normally saw there, but something more recognisable and understandable: it was simply the pain of having lost his parents.
"Well, I think it's wonderful," she stated bluntly. Troy laughed softly.
"Well, I'm glad you like it. But I don't think I'll be playing it much anymore," he replied while looking over the sheet copy of Kelsi's song she had just handed over.
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I guess... I'm not feeling like that right now."