Fickle
Old Fiat
Currently Listening: "Drive" and "Rather Be With You" from V by Vanessa Hudgens, "I Get Lonely" from Another Side by Corbin Bleu and "The Sadder But Wiser Girl" by Robert Preston from the 1962 film The Music Man.
Oh my God, I'm retarded. I almost put Fickles instead of Fickle just now. God. Anyway, the beginning of this chapter was handwritten while driving to my sister's birthday party (On December first she turned eighteen. Woot!) so there maybe typos. Or there may not be as many. I dunno. Whatever. Let's get on with it.
A grand shout out goes to iHeArTfAnFiCs for being the only person able to guess Troy's rash decision correctly. A couple of you come close, but no cigar. Anyway let's give her a hand::Brings out large neon sign that says APPLAUSE:: You're awesome, sweetheart!
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Chapter Six: The Shot Heard Round the Locker Rooms
The rest of the week went in the same way as my second day of school—ignored by all except Gabriella and the basketball team (the latter, only during practice.) and stared at and whispered about by the rest of the school. The talking behind my back and the rumors were probably the worst. Whispers followed me down the hallways, up stairwells and throughout the classrooms. It was kind of like being stalked by an army of very loud and nervous bees with the way everyone buzzed and flitted in and out of my way.
I guess the news had spread to the staff and teachers as well because by Wednesday my dad (who, as you know, is the coach) wasn't really talking to me unless absolutely necessary. He barely said anything around me except (at home) "Go to bed", "Pass the butter", and (at school) "Try feigning a pass and then dodging around Jason."
I think he probably told my mom too because she had broken her usual routine of asking me to wear a yarmulke to school (she may be reform, but very reluctantly) and preferring to send me weird, sideways looks.
By the following Friday, I just wanting to crawl under a rock and die—and that was in the morning, a time when I usually at my peak. I was going crazy. It wasn't that I was unpopular at school—at least, they hadn't torn down that poster of me in the hallway—but I wasn't exactly beloved either. I know that probably sounds stupid and it's probably what happens with most teenagers, but I'd never been in that niche. I was always either very popular, or totally ostracized (though I hadn't been disliked by such a large majority since first grade and that was because my mom decided to teach me Hebrew before English [as I said, she's barely reform. She could've at least gone for Yiddish. and so I couldn't really form a proper sentence until second grade, which sucked. Chad was always there though…). It was like the student body hadn't really decided what to do with me yet and had stuck me in a ditch where they threw the other students they couldn't figure out. Accept I got a bit more the "he's got the plague" treatment with a lot more talking behind my back.
On a usual Friday, I would've been up before either of my parents to avoid the yarmulke conversation and out the door, toast in hand, just as my dad was stumbling down the stairs. On a usual Friday I would have woken up with a chipper tune in my head and not a very emo sounding song like that Friday. Any other Friday would've galloped down the stairs, still humming the melody, instead of half fallen down them.
I thudded into the kitchen, a total, slightly stubbly, mess, and began to make myself breakfast. My mom sent me a slightly worried look before turning back towards the coffee maker.
I was, thankfully, out of the house before my dad got a chance to speak to/ignore me. It was a very narrow escape, though. I could hear him give my mom a grumbled "Good Morning" (unlike me, my dad is not a morning person) just as I was closing the front door.
To be honest, I wanted to talk to my dad as much as I wanted to talk to Chad—i.e., not a lot. I terrified what he would say or do. I mean, once I watched this show with my mom called The War At Home (or maybe it was just War At Home, I don't remember.) about one of those dysfunctional families and there was this one gay kid who was a friend of one of the main characters and when he came out to his parents they kicked him out so he had to live with the main (dysfunctional) family until the mom or dad (or maybe it was neither, I'm not sure.) convinced his parents to take him back. And even though I knew it was just a stupid TV show that was cancelled pretty quickly, I couldn't help but wonder—what if my dad did that to me? Where would I go? What would I do? Would he ever take me back? Like, yeah, I'm bi, but we saw how many people believed that: one, Gabriella.
Anyway, I basically fudged my way through most of the day, as I'd been doing most of the week. I pretended to listen to the teacher, I guessed my way through a pop quiz and prayed the teachers wouldn't call on me to do anything. Luckily, they didn't.
I'd grown suddenly aware over the last couple of days of how many classes I shared with Ryan and the large percentage I spent of them staring at him. Of course, I always tried to make it subtle (only watching him out of the corner of my eye)—the last thing I needed was anyone to actually catch me in the act of openly staring at Ryan Evans, thus proving Chad's rumor/outing. Not that it wasn't already pretty much proven.
So the reason I bring up this particular Friday is because of what happened right before the after-school, varsity-only basketball practice in the locker rooms, so let's just go there.
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I walked in the boy's changing room and was greeted by the usual scent of sweat, steam and (I know this sounds weird but) towels. The rest of the team sat in a huddle in one of the closest little… off room things. (You'd have to see the layout of the locker rooms to properly understand, but there's this sort of hall that leads to my dad's office and then there are, on wither side, three rooms that come off the hallway which are lined in red lockers and benches. It's kind of confusing.)
I walked over to them and, when they didn't look up, gave a slight cough to get their attention. Chad was the first one to look up. He was off to the side of the group and looked very nervous. The rest of the guys stared up at me, a little threateningly.
"Hey," I said, my voice soft and not very captain-esque. "Aren't we going to go do some drills? Warm up a bit?" It sounded almost like I was begging. Begging to be allowed to pretend things were still the same.
No such luck.
"We want to talk to you, Troy," said Andy, a ginger-haired boy on the team who threw excellent passes.
I took a deep breath and spread out my arms.
"Go ahead," I said, letting them fall back to my sides. I may as well have shouted shoot at a firing squad and placed my hand over my heart to help them aim.
"Say it, Chad," said Jason, a good player who was slow in the classroom.
Chad didn't look at me, but at his twiddling thumbs. Biting his lip, he whispered, "We've decided you shouldn't be on the team anymore."
I blinked several times, my heart pounded and my chest felt tight. I felt as if this had happened before. A horrible feeling of déjà vu spread throughout my body.
"What are you talking about?" I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.
"We don't think you're a good example for a captain. You know, with Gabriella and stuff," said Zeke; he sounded like he'd been told to say it, though. He didn't look at me either, but over my shoulder at another one of the little off-hallway rooms. Maybe I was just being hopeful. "And it'll wreck our reputation with West High if we have a gay captain."
I just stood there, speechless. I wondered if something like this might've been from a film or something. I dug through the memories of all the films, trying to find a scene that might match this moment. I couldn't recall a single one, so I continued to stand with my mouth hanging open. (Un)fortunately, Isaac (Andy's twin, very good player) decided to speak.
"Also it'll be totally creepy in the locker rooms."
And then I figured out where this had happened before.
"You're pulling a David thing, aren't you?" I said, looking at all of them, partially surprised, partially disgusted.
David was a boy who was one of the stars of the junior varsity basketball team during freshmen year. He was really nice, and probably would've made varsity with me in sophomore year if the infamous "David-Nick-Homecoming" incident hadn't happened. I wasn't actually at the dance (I was flunking Algebra at the time and my mom had made me stay home and study), but I'd heard about what happened. Apparently, he had arrived as an escort for his older sister, but had disappeared somewhere during the dance. Then she had gone looking for him so they could drive home and found him and Nick Petrov (I think he's now the captain-founder of the fashion club) making out in the boys' room. (Don't ask me how she got in there, as I said, I wasn't there.) Some of her friends followed her in and screamed, causing more people to flood into the bathroom.
He came out to the team a couple weeks later, but only after being subjected to the same popular-unpopular thing I was going through now for quite a while. The team forced him to quit. I know Chad defended him against them, but he couldn't do anything in the end.
I hadn't been at school during this either—flu. But I didn't exactly support him while he was being steadily more and more unaccepted. I don't know if he stayed with Nick or not, but I know he didn't leave the school. I still see him around, but he was pushed to the back of my mind because I felt so guilty for not standing by him. Now it all came rushing back, and I felt like throwing up.
I didn't know if most of the guys remembered what I was talking about, I could see Chad did. He wore the same sick-to-your-stomach expression that I did. I looked at all of them; half looked a little confused and the other half (excluding Chad and Zeke) nodded.
"You're going to make me quit because you can't actually kick me off just because you think I'm gay? Like with David?"
The remembering half nodded instantly, making affirmative noises. The other half finally recalled the incident and joined in the nodding and chorus of 'yeahs.'
"Shit," I said, disregarding my dad's rule of 'No swearing on his "turf"'. "Shit, guys… I'm excited to see how much my team liked me." They looked a little nervous now. "
"You know what?" I said, my voice hot and sharp with fury. "You don't need to go through all the forcing you did with David. I'll quit right now, but let me say something in my defense. Just to make you think a bit—if that's possible.
"I actually loved Gabriella," I continued, my voice was cracking now and could actually feel a stinging sensation at the corners of my eyes. "And I still do, but as more of a friend now. If you guys actually saw the rest of that diary you'd see—in clear, clean writing—that I'm bisexual. As in, I like guys and girls." They were all rolling their eyes and scoffing. "I really loved Gabriella, but feelings can change.
"However, in case you guys didn't notice, I nearly gave her up for you idiots. Half the time, I sacrifice my grades, my time and my girlfriend for this team—so now that I'm off the team, why don't you think about how much I do for you guys."
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the door at the end of hall open and my father walk out.
"Good luck this season," I said, my voice breaking again. I raised my hands as a sort of symbol of surrender. "I hope you all thought this through because I'm not going to come crawling back." Chad opened his mouth and I thought for a second he was going to ask me to stay. However, he didn't say anything, so I grabbed my stuff from my locker. As I slammed the door to the locker rooms closed, I saw my dad giving me a look of confusion and, even worse, disappointment.
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Okay, so I didn't get to put in my grand Ryan mention or the father-son argument, mainly because I wanted to slow down the story a bit. (Plus I always visualized the father-son thing in chapter seven.) I hope you guys liked it though.
Again, a big hand for iHeArTfAnFiCs for being the one to guess Troy's rash decision: quitting the basketball team (albeit by request of the others.)
Please review! They make me write faster!
-OFsI