Fickle
Old Fiat
Currently Listening: All of Vanessa Hudgens' album V and whatever was on my shuffle. When typing the last section I listened to "Drive" from V on repeat. Does anyone actually read these things?
I apologize for this taking so long! I wrote it by hand and then typed it up, but both took a pretty long time. I'm wicked sorry. It's a pretty long chapter (4,178 words), so it kind of makes up for it. Right?
Enjoy!
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Chapter Seven: Of Confrontation, Drama and Dates
I didn't truly realize my new place in the society of East High until Monday.
Most of my weekend had been spent in my room (except when I went to temple with my mom) avoiding my parents and occasionally texting Gabriella. I turned up my music all the way and played it non-stop so my dad wouldn't come in—not only does he dislike most of my music (Moby, Augustana, some songs from musicals, some top-forty stuff and a lot of Ramones and Elton John. My dad likes the Beatles and surfer music, even though he was, like, just born when they became popular.), he doesn't like loud stuff either. I kind of hoped my mom would come in though. We're really close. I mean, while my dad can get me pumped up, my mom… she just makes me feel like I did a good job.
But she didn't come in, so I was left with nothing but the weekend, my cell phone and my iPod. I spent a lot of time relaxing, cooling down from the recent events. By Sunday night, things felt almost normal.
I didn't really know what to expect when I entered the school the next day. Insults, perhaps? Further gossip? Forgiveness (yeah right, like that'll happen this century.)? But nothing could've prepared me for what happened when I pushed the glass doors open.
Nothing.
I stood for a few moments, waiting for a 'hello' or some sort of reaction, but the rest of the students bustled through the hallways as though nothing had happened on Friday. No one began to whisper as I walked past, trying to reach my locker. No heads turned when I came in as they had last week. Nothing. Of course, I didn't really realize what they were doing until the end of science and then it clicked.
The crowd had finally figured out what to do with the "gay" ex-basketball varsity star: ignore him.
At lunch I wondered through the cafeteria after having had several hours of the invisible man treatment. It was getting quite tiresome. I looked around the enormous room until I spotted Gabriella. She was sitting by herself with her books spread out around her. This meant she hadn't finished her English homework the night before and, thus, did not want to sit with the rest of the scholastic decathlon team for fear that they would distract her.
I dropped into the sit next to her, placing my tray on the circular table. "Hey Gabs."
She looked up from her polka-dot notebook momentarily to flash me a quick smile. "Hi Troy." She bent down over the lined paper again.
"How's it going?" I asked as I ripped open my milk carton.
"Horrible," she said, flipping through the textbook. "I hate English."
I laughed and looked over her shoulder at her neat handwriting. "The freaky genius girl is having trouble with any school subject? That's hard to believe."
She gave a light chuckle and closed the thick, aqua volume. "I just wish it was logical—you know? Like science or something. But it's all about interpretation and there's no way to check your answers." She sighed and picked one of her tater tots off her tray. "I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of it."
We began chatting about the things that were or weren't confusing in school. I always like talking to Gabriella, even though we aren't going out anymore. It's always a soothing experience. I feel like Gabriella was some where in the corner of my mind even before I met her.
Anyway, I was so engrossed in our discussion of Mr. Beamer, the physics teacher, and whether or not he was a coma in human form that I didn't even notice the laws he taught were being tested near by.
On me.
"Oy Bolton!" a voice called from right behind me.
A weird gluey thing slid down my back as the gelatinous creation hit the back of my head and began sliding down my neck into my shirt. I turned around, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of pressure cause by the jell-o, and touched the back of my head to finger-comb out some of the snack. There stood Andy.
"Interesting greeting method," I said, whipping my hands on my napkin to get rid of the sticky of cherry-flavored liquid on my fingers.
Andy snorted. I wondered how I never noticed that his brain had to be the same size as a pea. "Matsui wants you in his office," he said and I watched as his eyes began to focus on Gabriella's chest. She noticed his gaze and shifted uneasily.
I rolled my eyes and picked up my backpack. "Did he just let you out?" I don't know why I was speaking to a former teammate this way. Maybe the jell-o had messed up my nervous system.
He chose to ignore my comment and, as I got up, sat down next to Gabriella.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her up as gently as I could. "How about you come with me, Gabs?" I said, not looking at Andy. "Didn't you have some stuff you wanted to ask Mrs. Steel about?"
She gave me a grateful look and quickly gathered up her things. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me."
We left the cafeteria together as quickly as possible. The moment the large red doors swung closed behind us, Gabriella turned towards me and gave a deep sigh.
"Thank you so much Troy. That guy was so creepy."
I shrugged. "I don't want my best friend having to sit next to a git like that."
She smiled. "Why do you think Principal Matsui called you to his office."
"Extra curricular," I said, almost without thinking. "It's school policy that you have to be part of at least one club or something."
"Ah," she said, nodding. "I remember now. What'll you join?"
I rubbed my lips together and considered.
"I think I'll join the drama club," I decided after a moment of thought. "It's the only thing other than basketball that I'm really good at."
She gave a soft laugh and looked at her feet. "Also you get to be closer to Ryan…"
"I hadn't thought of that," I admitted, truthfully. Ryan had slipped from my mind momentarily, but now he was back and now I thought about it, drama club would bring me very close to him.
Speaking of him though, Ryan has somehow slipped to the back of this story. This is mostly because I was afraid to talk to him. I mean, he was watching me, staring at me—all the time. While this could be considered complimentary, it wasn't that kind of stare. He looks like he's considering me, calculating my movements. It's a very thoughtful look, but not one that shows any affection. He looked more like he's still figuring me out, trying to forge an opinion. Not complimentary, more awkward, especially since now he catches me attempting to watch him discretely in class.
My cheeks flushed the moment he walked back into my mind. Unfortunately, Gabriella noticed this.
"Troy, why don't you try and talk to Ryan?" she asked, a touch of laughter in her voice. "Maybe you could ask him out once you join the drama club and you could go for pizza at the OIP. I could go to if you wanted, just to make things less awkward."
I stopped outside the door to Principal Matisui's office. "Maybe, Gabs. I'll see you later, 'kay?"
"See you!" and with that, she turned away and set off to the English classroom.
My suspicion of the reasons I'd been called to the (usually) overly friendly principal's were correct. He wasn't very friendly to me though. Seeming anxious to get me in and out of his office, I was pushed out the door the second he'd handed me the paper were the drama club's meeting times were printed in bold letters.
I shook my head a couple times to try and clear it of the short, nervous administrator as the door slammed shut behind me. I glanced at my watch and realized I had ten minutes to get to class before all the other students poured into the hallways. I made quick stop at my locker and I ran straight to the classroom, arriving to meet Gabriella at the door, a second before the bell rang.
The door opened and about twenty or thirty freshmen thundered out as Gabriella and I slid past.
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After the lesson (a very confusing one about characterization), I saw Gabriella stop Ryan from leaving and began speaking to him. I momentarily wondered what she was doing, but decided it was nothing. Nothing that concerned me anyway. They're pretty close, why shouldn't they have a brief conversation after a truly mystifying lecture?
I waited for her by the doorway and watched them speak. I saw Gabriella's lips form the words 'I'll call you about it later.' Yes, nothing that concerned me. She was probably asking him to go shopping with her. They go shopping a lot.
I learned that my assumption of it not having to do with me were incorrect when the final bell rang the next day. There was an explosion of chatter as the students filed out of the classrooms. I was stuck behind Chad for several minutes as everyone tried to push their way out of the History room. My temperature rose as I glared at his afro and felt a sudden burst of loathing. I'd never felt that before as I looked at him. Well this was great, only two days of being ostracized and I was already starting to crazy.
Anyway, I cooled down a bit after I visited one of the water fountains and was nearly back to normal as I slammed my locker shut. I was about to leave the school and drive home when a large, pale hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the boy's bathroom.
The hand let me go once I was in the tiled room and it took me a couple minutes to regain balance. After I had steadied myself, I looked at the figure in front of me, starting at the feet.
His polished black dress shoes gleamed under the florescent lights and almost melted into crisp black trousers. Tucked into the trousers was a bright fuchsia button up shirt with darker stripes. A white fedora was perfectly placed on top of his pale blonde hair and cast a strange shadow over his furious face.
It was Ryan. And a seriously angry Ryan at that.
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A silence so thick it could of caused suffocation filled the bathroom. I felt my face redden as Ryan continued to stand and stare at me, looking positively livid. I bit my lip and decided to cut the tension.
"Um, Ryan—?" I started. I was almost glad Ryan cut me off because my voice sounded so rough and awkward.
"What the hell are you doing?" he finally yelled. It was actually quite frightening. His words bounced off the tiles creating some kind of chaotic symphony. His hands clenched into such tight fists I was sure the skin over his knuckles would soon split.
"Huh?" I said stupidly.
"What the hell are you doing?" he was hissing his words now. Grabbing the collar of my shirt, he shoved me up against one of the ice-cold walls. (This was just as scary as being shouted at, despite the fact that I'm a little bit taller than Ryan.)
"I really don't know what you're talking about," I spluttered, digging through my mind for any reason Ryan might be so violently angry with me. Only two came up: (1) because I like him, and (2) because I joined the drama club. I went with the latter. "I only joined the drama club 'cause I needed an extra curricular, I—"
I realize now that I must look like an awful coward, but I'm not really. I was just under pressure and, as I stated in one of the earlier chapters, when I'm under pressure in anything other than basketball, I become… nothing. I'm not a coward, but I'm not particularly brave; I'm not spouting gibberish, but I'm not being totally articulate; and I'm not an idiot, but I'm not Einstein. I'm just there. It's awful.
Ryan cut me off in my partially coherent babble about why I joined the drama club.
"I'm not talking about that!" he said, clearly irritated with my blushing and rambling. "I'm talking about how you used a girl who loved you, broke up with her and then used her again to ask me out!"
"What?" Maybe I should start telling people to explain things in their entirety to me before confrontation. I had no idea what Ryan was talking about.
He proceeded to "spell things out" for me, venom dripping from each syllable.
Apparently, he was under the same bizarre delusion as Chad—that I had used Gabriella to cover up my "homosexuality" (i.e., Ryan also thought I was gay.)—and that I'd made her ask him to go out with me.
"I didn't tell her to do that!" I said, finally gathering enough courage to shove him away from me, which I suppose you shouldn't do to someone you have a very heavy crush on. I began straightening out my clothes as Ryan fixed his hat, which had been knocked sideways from the push. "I didn't even know that she had asked you!"
"Then why did she say, and I quote: 'how about you and Troy go out to the pizza place together? I might come along because Troy will probably be nervous'! Why?" he screamed, his voice getting shriller with each word out of his mouth. I blushed even harder, despite my anger. Why did Gabriella have to say that last sentence?
I looked directly into his gray blue eyes, trying to look as serious and deadly calm as I could while my cheeks burned their horrible pink.
"I'm going explain the whole thing to you right now, Ryan," I said, slowly and steadily. "I love Gabriella as a best friend. She's like my sister. I used to love her 'that way'—" I wiggled two fingers to signify quotation marks. "—but my feelings for her changed and now we are friends. And she's okay with that!" I paused and took a deep breath to stop my voice from getting too strident.
"Also, you were implying that I am gay," I said, putting a slight smirk on my lips. "I'm not. I'm bi." I was starting to get sick of saying this. I mean, how many more times would I have to say 'I'm not gay, I'm bi.'?
"As for her asking you out for me, I did Gabriella yesterday and I guess she decided to return it—even though I didn't ask her to," I stressed the last seven words just to try and get my point across.
Not the best way to return the favor, Gabs, I thought, mildly annoyed.
"I'll ask Gabi," he said stiffly, not wanting to show that he'd given up, but the anger had seeped out of his face and he looked right back into my eyes.
"You know, she came over to my house after you two broke up," he said in almost a whisper. He snapped our eye contact by deciding his shoes were far more interesting. "She was really upset."
My cheeks flushed red and my stomach flopped around in guilt. Had I upset Gabriella that much by breaking up with her? Had she told Ryan I liked him before Chad told everyone?
"Did she tell you—" I started, but Ryan cut me off again, this time with a short nod. I suddenly felt very sick. "I really do like you," I whispered, thinking he wasn't paying attention, but he still heard me. I could tell by the way his eyes flew back up towards my face.
Even though I'm certain my head looked like a giant tomato with hair and facial features, the next words out of Ryan's mouth were steady and serious.
"Troy…" he began slowly. His voice mimicked the gaze he'd been giving me for weeks—measured and thoughtful—even though the look he was sending me right now was nervous and unsure. "I'm flattered that you hold this adoration for me, but I'm afraid I can't return your feelings."
I blinked. "What?"
"I don't like you that way," said Ryan, vaguely flapping his arms in his frustration. "You're a cool guy and everything but I like girls…" His voice trailed off. To my own surprise, I managed to remain standing after this heavy blow.
He doesn't like you, he doesn't like you, he doesn't like you… I voice in my brain chanted teasingly. A lump rose in my throat and I forced it back down. I couldn't start crying. I wouldn't start crying. Regardless of the fact that I was no longer him, the basketball captain-reputation keeping trigger in my brain forced me to put on an impassive expression, even though my body suddenly felt like something was scratching it out the inside. My thoughts were clouded, my heart felt higher than usual and my legs felt like collapsing.
"Right," I said, my voice quiet, but even. It was no wonder I was pretty good in drama, my voice didn't even crack. "Well I'll just see you later then…" I turned to go, I couldn't stay in the same room as him. My expressionless mask was still on, but it was going to slip soon. Ryan grabbed my arm again, pulling me back towards him. In my limp, broken state, I couldn't fight his grip.
"I'd like to stay friends with you, Troy," he said, smiling slightly. "And, you know, if feelings develop, whatever, but for now… you know…"
I'd heard the 'let's just be friends' thing before, but this was the first time it sounded sincere, including when I said it to Gabriella. I smiled at Ryan and he smiled back.
"So… You're going with me and Gabs for pizza?" I asked and he nodded rapidly. (I don't think Ryan had any friends before this summer, but the story of those three months requires its own novel for explanation.) "Do you know when we're going?"
He laughed. He has a fabulous laugh.
"Thursday, noon."
I nodded. This made since. On Thursday the school was going to be closed due to the teachers… having meetings or something.
"Thanks," I said and we exited the bathroom together.
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The rest of my Tuesday was spent rather happily and on Wednesday I was welcomed into the drama club with open arms. I began sitting at their table in the cafeteria (of course visiting Gabriella at the scholastic decathlon's table beforehand) and found out that Mrs. Darbus was planning on doing The Phantom of the Opera this year. (That was an a great piece of news, since I knew how pissed Chad would be to see the posters for the casting calls and performances around the school. I don't mind the musical too much myself, but I'd rather not play the phantom… Stop. I'm rambling. Sorry.) By the end of the day I was practically skipping. I hadn't had a day this good since last summer.
On Wednesday evening, however, everything changed with five simple words. (Well, actually four, but whatever.)
I was lying on my bed, having just finished my homework, and was going over my options of what to do next, when my dad came in. I could tell he wasn't pleased to see me sprawled across the bed, plugged into my iPod.
"Troy," he said the moment he stepped into the threshold. "We need to talk."
A strange sensation filled my body when my mind registered these words. I felt like my rib cage had suddenly shrunk so that it was too tight for my lungs and my hands began to shake. An icy feeling spread throughout my nervous system, making it difficult to think or do anything except try and breathe.
"Okay," I said, my voice shaking as much as my hands. My dad made a gesture for me to get up. I fumbled with my iPod and once it was turned off, I followed him to his office.
My dad doesn't spend much time in his office. He usually only uses it for figuring out his taxes and working on formations for the basketball team. It was small, warm and smelled slightly of rubber. It was also incredibly cozy. The walls were a soft cream color, could barely see the paint through the layers of photographs that were plastered over them. They ranged from childhood pictures of my dad and his older brother to photos of the varsity team after the championship game last year and beyond. There was a large wooden desk and whiteboard near the window. The desk was coated with papers and notes, a few falling off the maple surface onto the spinning, cushy chair nearby. Pushed up against the opposite wall was an ancient dark green couch with bamboo stalks printed on it. I used to find that couch very comforting because it smelled like Old Spice but as I sat on it that day it seemed terrifying.
"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, even though I knew.
He sat down beside me and took a deep breath. I began picturing what my life on the streets would be like. I could see it clearly—a dark, snowy night, in a dark ally between two buildings sat me, wrapped in a worn blanket. I was shivering from the cold, my body dirty and skinny. I reached out towards a young woman in a dark suit, my voice barely more than a whisper as I croaked "Got any spare change for a boy whose own father didn't want him?"
I was pulled out of my bizarre daydream by my dad's voice.
"Troy," he said, still struggling for the words to express what he wanted to say. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," I said automatically. Turning towards him, I saw he didn't look angry but very nervous.
"Then why didn't you tell me you were… you know…" The next words out of his mouth sent shock waves straight to my core. "I would've supported you."
"What?" I breathed.
He looked at my, a funny, slightly confused sideways smile on his face. "Why wouldn't I?"
I had no idea. Really. I had no idea why he wouldn't. I should've given my father more credit. I ought to have known he would always me there for me, whether he thought I was gay, bi or mildly retarded. All the tension that had had my muscles taught before drained out and I found myself laughing with relief.
"I have no idea," I said softly, leaning back and examining the ceiling. "I guess I thought you'd be angry or disappointed or something."
"Well I'm not overjoyed," he acknowledged with a shrug. "But I'm not going to start telling you to pack your bags and leave."
It's strange how perfectly my dad can read my mind sometimes.
I laughed. "Of course not."
After I had finally started breathing normally again, my dad asked me why I had quit the basketball team, so I did, managing to explain everything including the David-Nick-Homecoming thing. When I'd talked myself into silence, my dad spoke again.
"I'm really angry at those boys right now," he said, a slight growl in his voice. "Listen, you can rejoin the team if you want—"
I shook my head. "I don't want to be on a team with them if that's how they think of me." Especially Chad, I thought, but decided not to say since I'd heard that he had been voted captain.
He smiled, understanding, but his expression quickly changed to one of seriousness.
"I'm not happy about the way you used that Gabriella girl, though," he said, lowering his brow. "It was very wrong of you.
So, even though it feels strange to write, I elucidated again my feelings for Gabriella and my sexuality, highly doubting he would believe any of it. But he did. And afterwards he patted me on the shoulder and said, "If it makes you happy." Then he left the room, probably to relate the conversation to my mom.
The next day I jogged down the stairs, already cleaned up and ready for my "date" with Gabriella and Ryan. As I sat down to eat a quick breakfast I felt something being pressed to the back of my head and a soft click. I turned around and saw my mom, already dressed for work. Her mouth was curled into a smile.
I touched the back of my head and felt my yarmulke. Why does she do this? It's not even Saturday…
"Wear it," she said. In less than a second an unspoken conversation passed between my mother and I. I smiled back at her and, for once, chose not to object.
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Yar! (Sorry, recently saw Pirates of the Caribbean 3 again. That movie is totally awesome.) I am so sorry that this chapter took so long! For some reason I couldn't write it on the computer (not because it was broken, just because I… couldn't. I dunno.) and it took me a while to type it up. I am so sorry, but, hey! It's a REALLY long chapter, so it's worth the wait.
Or maybe it isn't.
Anyway, I just want to say that the bamboo couch in Mr. Bolton's office is based on a real couch. I am serious. Only ours didn't smell like Old Spice (I love Old Spice. It actually works… ::grumbles::.), it smelled like dust. Anyway—yeah.
Also Gabriella mentions a place called the OIP (Original Italian Pizza). This is, like, the best pizza joint ever, but I don't know if there are actually any in Albuquerque. There were two where we used to live in Pennsylvania, though. They were fabulous
Please review!
-OFsI