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...

Chapter Six: A Grey Day

Gabriella sat with her eyes fixed on Ryan's encouraging smile, trying to keep herself calm. She had known, in a round-about sort of way, that everything would come out at some point, and that this would be hard for her friends to hear, but she hadn't expected opposition on quite this scale. Taylor hadn't touched her lunch, instead choosing to keep up a continuous and highly impressive stream-of-consciousness narrative.

Martha looked confused and anxious, Kelsi excited. Sharpay was looking completely emotionless, and it was her Gabriella was most worries about. Sharpay was never silent, and it was unheard of for her not to broadcast her current emotions on loud-speaker to anyone in range.

"...and I mean, okay, maybe some of the team aren't too bad, but Gabi, Troy Bolton? He's such a loser, he's always in trouble, always getting into fights, everyone knows he drinks and does drugs, his foster-parents are always having trouble with him, he doesn't do well at school, he-"

"Taylor, stop!" Much to everyone's surprise, Taylor stopped, actually looking quite pleased to have the opportunity to breathe. Gabriella took the opportunity to put her point of view across. "I'm not convinced that any of that's true. All anyone really knows about him is that he comes in looking like he lost a fight with a lawn mower too often. And by the way, I sneaked a look at a few grade books. He's not doing badly in school. He never gets anything lower than a B, and As aren't exactly unheard of."

"But, Gabi, you've only been here a few months, and a couple of weeks ago you wouldn't even have recognised his name. What makes you think you should get involved?" Martha asked, concern written bold across her round, good-natured face.

"Since I met him, I've already learned loads of stuff about him. For example, he's a really talented musician. He doesn't just sing, he plays piano and guitar, and even writes his own music."

Over the sounds of impressed appreciation from Ryan and Kelsi, Taylor reinserted herself into the debate after her brief respite. "But how did you even meet him?" She was clearly getting exasperated. First the audition, then Gabriella missing the decathlon practice, all over some boy who was clearly a troublemaker? Taylor's organised mind couldn't really accept it. "A fortnight ago, you didn't know him from Adam. Now suddenly he's like this majorly important person. What happened?"

A sly smile crept over Gabriella's face, which was surprisingly well suited to the expression. "Well, that was before he saved my life," she said with an absent, dismissive hand gesture.

She had to struggle not to laugh loudly, the affect of this statement was so comical. All five of her friends froze in the middle of what they were doing, including Kelsi whose sandwich was halted an inch from her mouth, tuna mayonnaise slowly dripping onto the table. Even Sharpay was jerked from one stasis to another, her eyes flicking over to Gabriella with an almost audible thump while the rest of her stayed completely stationary. Gabriella looked down, secretly attempting to maintain her composure but to observers simply engrossed in her own sandwich, which was really quite nice.

"Gabriella Montez."

"Taylor McKessie," she couldn't help teasing.

"You will explain yourself this instant!"

"Wow. You been taking lessons from Ms D?" Despite herself, Martha snorted with laughter, quickly muffling it with her own hand. Gabriella decided to put her friends out of their misery.

"Look, about a week and a half ago, I nearly got run over, and it was Troy who pushed me out of the way. Since then, I think I've got to know him a bit, and I just can't understand where all these rumours could have come from, because that's just not the Troy I know." She shrugged.

Sharpay's eyes slid back to their previous position, seemingly scrutinising the table in minute detail. Kelsi rescued her sandwich. Finally, Martha spoke up.

"Look, I think we can all identify with wanting to defend someone who stopped you getting hurt, and maybe even accept that the stories about Troy have got a bit exaggerated. But what has any of this got to do with you missing decathlon practice on Friday?"

"Well." Gabriella was hesitant this time; she hadn't told anyone where she'd gone on Friday night yet. "I told Troy I'd go to the basketball game."

She was a little surprised at the response she got: a round of sniggers from all quarters. Even Sharpay's mouth twitched a little. "What?" Gabriella demanded, a little put off.

"It's just that, well, that must have been an enlightening experience for you. I imagine you were bored out of your skull." Everyone nodded along with what Ryan was saying. "What was the score?" His face was all smiles now.

"72-63."

"Oh, not as poor as usual then."

"To us! Haven't you heard people talking today?"

"Come on, Gabi, stop pulling my leg."

Gabriella stood, gathering her lunch things together. "Just look at the boards if you don't believe me. I need to go find Troy, if he's here. He missed homeroom." She turned and walked away, purposefully not looking at the wide-eyed group she had left behind. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about how the conversation had gone, but was at least relieved that it was done, and happy in a way that she had made a start at reconciling what were becoming two very important parts of her life.

The music room, when she checked it, was empty. She frowned, thinking hard, eyes raking the walls as she wondered where to check next, when she noticed something unusual. Racks surrounded the room, normally home to various instruments, with larger ones like the grand piano and other large percussion arranged around the floor. On one wall were two complete racks of acoustic guitars. They were mostly old and worn, in need of a polish at best and new strings at worst. In one spot, though, was an absence, showing the faded yellow of the wall behind the wood-tone instruments. Someone had taken a guitar, and left the room with it, which was even more unusual: they weren't technically meant to take anything out of the music room. That was a clue, she reasoned.

Unfortunately, though, her first idea proved wrong: when she checked the auditorium it was empty, except for Ms Darbus supervising a lunch time detention and lecturing on the ultimate force of darkness (i.e. cell phones). Gabriella was about to head over to the library to check there, in case Troy was catching up with some work, when she noticed a door standing ajar. She had no idea where it went, still being relatively new to the school, but when she paused to look at it, she thought she caught a few notes of guitar music, floating down to her as if on a breeze.

Quickly and quietly, unsure if this was really allowed, she slipped through the door and climbed the stairs beyond it, her curiosity growing with the volume of the music as she got nearer to its origins. She emerged blinking in the bright New Mexico sunshine, looking around and blinking after the shady interior corridors.

The roof of East High was pretty much as she would have expected: largely flat and uninteresting, dotted here and there with vents, outlets and even one or two skylights. Over the top of the stairs, though, a pagoda had been constructed from scaffolding poles and corrugated iron, providing shelter for the shelves holding potted plants, which stood where the walls would be. There must have been around fifty plants, ranging from small, blushing flowers to others she couldn't identify, while still appreciating the strong, healthy green colour of their growth.

A bench was positioned looking away from her, out over Albuquerque and beyond to the mountains, and Troy was sat on it, seemingly a million miles away as his fingers idly tripped over the guitar strings, while his left hand moved up and down the fret board seemingly without effort. She made her way over, attempting to make some noise, as she didn't want to startle him, but not so much as to interrupt his music.

"Mind if I join you?"

He smiled up at her, his fingers growing still. "Sure. I have to admit, though, I didn't expect anyone to find me here. It's kind of my place, you know?"

"Oh." Gabriella found she felt mildly hurt, and wondered why. "I can go if you want to be alone..."

"No, please stay," he interrupted, laying a hand on her arm briefly. His smile was genuine: the black eye was almost completely healed now, and a white gauze dressing hid the ugly scar on his cheek.

She sat, carefully choosing a distance she judged to be just right: neither too near, not too far from him. It was amazing how much thought she could put into such trivial things, she noted absently. "Thanks, I will. You've got yourself a really nice spot here, you know."

He chuckled. "You'll have to thank the gardening club, if you can find any of them. They made this place a couple of semesters back, and then the club folded recently. They just left this. I think I'm the only one who remembers it. Well, and now you, I guess."

She giggled too, his humour infectious, and as he started to play softly again she closed her eyes and took a deep, luxurious breath, smelling the sunshine and the fresh soil: the smells of growing things. Then she looked over at him again, suddenly and inexplicably shy, but determined none the less.

"Is now a good time?"

He knew what she meant. His fingers stilled again, and he let out a deep breath as he set the guitar aside, folding his hands in his map instead and not tearing his eyes from the panorama before them. "I said I'd tell you today, and... I suppose here and now as probably the best place. While it's still peaceful." Suddenly his eyes flicked to hers, pinning her where she sat. "But, you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone what I tell you, no matter how much you think it needs to be said. You have to understand, this is my problem, and I'm dealing with it the best way I know how."

He cocked his head, as if examining her, his blazing blue orbs not moving for a moment. Gabriella felt her breath coming weakly, as if this intense contact between them, whatever it was, was impairing her ability to function properly. "I'm not even sure why I'm telling you. We don't exactly know each other well. It's just... I think I can trust you. And I've been wanting to trust someone for a long time."

She nodded, unwilling to break either the mood or his concentration by speaking. Troy took a deep breath, and broke the contact, looking out over the city again.

"My foster parents... they're difficult." Against her will, Gabriella made a tiny noise, a sound of incredulity. Troy looked at her sharply for a moment, and she felt like cursing herself for not keeping silent, but Troy grinned sheepishly at her. Gabriella swore to stay quiet, and ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at that lopsided grin. "I guess that really is quite the understatement, but you need to understand, the only way I've been able to handle all of this is by rationalising it, and making myself believe that it's all not a big deal. Or trying to, at least.

"Anyway, they, both of them, are pretty obsessed with... with their image, I guess." He ran his fingers through his hair, obviously not entirely sure how really to begin the story. "They were high-school sweethearts, prom King and Queen, Steve was Senior Class President, Jean was Valedictorian. They went to college together, Brown University, and got married pretty much straight afterwards. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple. They were young, successful, professional... perfect. I guess they started believing it."

Gabriella glanced at his hands, clasped together in his lap, tense, every muscle contracted. He was still nervous. Tentatively, she placed one hand on his shoulder. He flashed her an appreciative smile, before returning to his contemplation of the city and his narrative.

"I suppose that it's not much of a leap, wanting to go from the perfect couple to the perfect family. I mean, it's logical, right?" Gabriella nodded, although the question was rhetorical and Troy couldn't see her anyway. "So, they started trying to have kids. For years, actually. After a long time they still hadn't managed it, and after some tests, they found out that... well, I don't know the details, but it boils down to the fact that they can't have children of their own. They started looking to foster.

"That seems fair enough, doesn't it? Except, they didn't want to foster a baby. No, they wanted older kids, who would be able to take care of themselves and wouldn't be so constantly demanding, since neither of them really wanted to leave their jobs. But the point is, they were thinking about the image, not the kid, right?" This time he looked at her, and she nodded again, since it was obvious he needed to know that she understood before continuing. He took another deep breath.

"When our mum and dad died, it seemed to them like a perfect fit to them. And to us too, I guess, at the time. We weren't going to have to leave our home town and our friends, and more than just responsible teenage kids, the Masons were getting local kids, so there wouldn't be the problems you get with moving to a new place. It was almost like we came prepared to just slot neatly into their lives, and they were happy with that.

"I barely noticed. I... didn't take it well, you know?" He was obviously trying hard, even if only subconsciously, to avoid mentioning his parents' murders directly. Gabriella could hardly blame him for that, and nodded vigorously to show that she understood. "In fact, I took it really hard. My school work slipped, my game- basketball, that is," he shot her a quick smile, "I... pulled away from my friends, I guess, stopped talking to anyone, got really withdrawn. I mean, all things considered, it was understandable really.

Steve and Jean, though, they couldn't accept underachieving. That didn't fit their precious image." For the first time, Gabriella thought she heard some bitterness creep into his voice. She gave his shoulder a squeeze, but he didn't respond. "They wanted their 'children' to be just as successful, just as perfect as they were, as they always had been. It turned into a real obsession for them, to the point where they started punishing me, just because I still wasn't coping well. It started with just, you know, normal stuff. Getting grounded, allowance docked, that kind of thing. I didn't like it, but I could understand it. After all, my teachers were beginning to despair of me, though one or two asked if I had had any counselling, and thought I needed it. I expect it would have helped a lot. No such luck, though.

"But then, things began to get worse. I wasn't improving, so they just started using stronger and stronger punishments, to the point where they started just hitting me." Gabriella had known that it was coming, but to hear it said so plainly was still shocking. "They would slap me, rap my knuckles, still really punishments, but then Steve started getting more violent. Sometimes he goes drinking after work. He doesn't get drunk, doctors can't be seen walking round drunk. But a couple of drinks really bring out his mean streak. He started using fists on me instead of open hands, he kicked me, and a few times he'd use something to hit me. I mean, this?" He pointed at the nearly-healed black eye. "He hit me round the face with a kitchen stool when he saw I'd dripped blood on the carpet, that Friday night.

"And the things I got punished for, they got stupid too. After the violence began, I started really working at school, trying to stave off any more. I thought that if they didn't have an excuse for it, it would all stop. But their expectations grew; they wanted me to be a star pupil, and an all-star basketball player, just because that fitted better with their damn image." He took another deep breath before going on. Gabriella couldn't speak. After saving her life, getting injured in the process, he was hit in the face with a chair for getting the carpet messy?

"So, yeah, now for any grade I get below an A, I'm grounded. A B- usually means a couple of bruises, although they're careful that they're never anywhere visible. Lose a basketball game, I'll probably ache for a week. Although, winning doesn't seem to be any better." He let out a mirthless chuckled, and Gabriella gasped as she was jolted from her fascinated horror.

"He... he punished you on Friday? After the game?"

Troy shook his head, absently grabbing her hand with both of his, and rubbing her knuckles with his thumb as he looked out over Albuquerque once more. "On Saturday. Apparently I was acting too cocky, and needed taking down a peg." He reached up with one hand, the other still holding hers, and gingerly reached up and peeled up the dressing on his cheek. Gabriella gasped yet again. The cut from her accident was even worse that before, red, dark, inflamed... it looked like the stitches had been deliberately pulled apart, tearing the wound open afresh in the process.

Gabriella felt her eyes welling up. Before she could stop herself, she had flung herself on Troy, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him as if her life, or maybe his life, depended on it, while she pressed the side of her head to his chest, urgently listening for his strong heartbeat and crying in real earnest. Slowly and tentatively, having no experience of this before, Troy reciprocated. Holding her close, he thought about how amazing this girl was, who had got him to talk after they knew each other for less than two weeks, and unable to escape the irony that he was the one comforting her.

"Hey, hey. Don't cry. It's not that bad, really. In a year's time, I'll be eighteen, and I can move out. I won't be their problem anymore, and I'll be free."

"But Troy, you shouldn't be anyone's problem! You shouldn't be a problem at all! It's so unfair!" Gabriella realised she sounded like a particularly petulant teenage stereotype, but didn't much care at that precise moment. She pulled away from him, but didn't release him entirely, so that they just sat side by side, their arms around each other. She looked into his stormy blue eyes, and realised that, what she was hearing aside, she was glad to be let in like this, to be this close to him. He shrugged gently.

"I know it's not fair... Ella?" He said the word very tentatively, obviously worried that she would take offence at being referred to with a pet name, but she nodded, smiling at him brightly through the tears. She had always disliked the nicknames people gave her: Gabby or Gabi she could tolerate, but she hated Gabs, Gab, Brie... for such a nice name, Gabriella was very hard to abbreviate satisfactorily. Somehow, though, she liked Ella, and what she liked more was that no one had even tried to call her that before. It was new, and because it was him using it, it was... special. He smiled back at her affirmation, before turning away again. "It's just the way it is."

"Troy, is shouldn't have to be. It doesn't have to be." All of a sudden, Gabriella realised how weird the entire situation was. Her, Gabriella Montez, crying? She couldn't remember actually crying since her father died when she was little. Nothing had been able to penetrate the walls she'd built around herself after that. And yet, hearing the truth about Troy Bolton, who he was, what he lived through, had managed to do what any number of sad movies, bullies and friends parted from too soon had failed to do. What was happening to her? Why did she feel different? Shaking the bewilderment, she got back to the point in hand. "Is there some reason you let this go on? Because you could stop it easily, you know."

Troy sighed. "I know. I mean, Even though they're the perfect couple, it's not like I haven't got proof of what's happening. I did consider it for a while, but... well, there's Tash."

Gabriella's eyebrows knitted in confusion. It was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that Tash wasn't being abused, and since she believed the 'juvenile delinquent' version of Troy's character, it was also pretty clear that she didn't know he was, either. But then, why would Troy be worried? Unless-

"Wait, did they threaten to hurt her? Did they threaten to hurt Tash if you told anyone?" She could hear her voice rising in near hysteria at the thought, and her head had jerked up in alarm, nearly butting Troy in the face. Almost instinctively, though, Troy's arms tightened around her, soothing and calming her all at once. She fought the urge to nestle into the protective circle they created.

"No, nothing like that. The thing is, Tash is pretty much the perfect kid for them, you know? She's so smart, and pretty and popular, Steve and Jean just love her, and she loves them too, because she has a great life. Her foster parents are supportive, she has everything she could possibly want... you know she already has a car?" Gabriella shook her head, unable to form words. Troy snorted. "Not even old enough to learn to drive, but she has a car. My point is though," he continued, losing the moment of bitterness, "she has a good life, and they're good parents to her. I could go to the authorities and spill everything, but that would be so bad for Tash. She would be disrupted again. Poor kids already had her parents die; she doesn't need this, too."

"But... but she believes them." Gabriella's voice was so quiet Troy had to bend closer to hear her. "She believes all those horrible things about you. She believes you fight and drink and all the rest of it. How can you stand it?"

Troy shrugged, feeling a bit awkward now. "It's necessary, Ella. I know it's not true, and you do too now. My team mates know I'm not like that, although I don't tell them everything. Honestly, I can handle Tash believing what everyone says, if it means that she can enjoy her life a little more."

There was silence for a while as the breeze stroked the roof. Gabriella realised that they'd been up here a long time, and were now very late for class. She had always been horror-struck at the thought of missing class, but she didn't care now. Now she knew that there were more important things. And suddenly, she decided to do something else she never had before, and in her deepest heart never thought she would. She leaned up and placed a soft, sweet kiss on Troy's lips. He didn't react, although it wasn't really long enough to allow for any reaction, but as she pulled away he was staring at her in something close to awe. She smiled at him again, even though tears were still creeping down her golden cheeks.

"I think, Troy Bolton, that you're probably the most amazing person I've ever met."

Troy's eyes were wide, the bright blues making him seem so innocent, and Gabriella smiled at the sight of them. His mouth opened a few times, but he seemed unable to form whole words. Gabriella continued.

"I've never met anyone so selfless, so concerned for everyone else. I've never met anyone willing to go through what you do for someone else. I think you're incredible, and I'm very glad that you're my friend."

She leaned up and kissed him again, longer this time. His lips were dry, but softened as he started to kiss her back, his lips moving against hers so sweetly, she could feel her toes curling in her shoes. She pulled away again, and smiled up at him. He licked his lips, and took a deep breath?

"Friend?" His voice croaked; he was obviously still stunned from the kiss. Gabriella felt a little stunned too, and nodded gently. Troy took a deep breath. "Or... look, Gabriella, will you be my girlfriend?"

Gabriella maintained her emotionless, calculating mask for as long as she could before breaking. It wasn't that long, truth be told, but despite everything, she couldn't resist teasing him a little before relenting. She hugged him close, burrowing her hear into the crook of his arm, and smiled up at him.

"Of course I will."

AN: Right, so hope you enjoyed this. Sorry it took a long time: I wrote most of it freehand, but then it took ages to write up, and Easter is kind of a busy time of year for me anyway. Hopefully I'll get quicker.

BTW, I'd appreciate some feedback on my other story, Twisted Cinders, if people feel like reading it. It's not quite as depressing as the title, now that I think about it, might suggest.

See you soon...

Tom (ZZ9)