Fickle

Old Fiat

Currently Watching: About a Boy. This is one of my favorite movies. I love it so much!

Ugh… I don't feel very good right now, so I'm typing this up. Anyway, this chapter is really more of Chapter Nine: Continued or something and they probably should've been posted together but, whatever…

Enjoy!

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Chapter Ten: "Fruit Punch!"

I didn't really know what to expect of Sharpay's party. The way Ryan had described it made me picture the small-big kind of parties that my parents held for New Years but with younger people.

I just wore my favorite pair of jeans, an old white t-shirt, and my USC hoodie (a present from my surfer-type uncle), assuming it would be just a small get together for the drama club and a few of their friends. What more could it be, right?

After promising my mom that I'd be home before 1:00 (which still pissed her off, it's like, come on mom! Anyway…), I hopped into my truck and drove to the Evans' house.

It was sprinkling lightly by the time I arrived, which was annoying but I was distracted by how many cars sat parked in the drive-way. There had to be twenty—no, thirty—cars sitting on the gravel, counting Sharpay's pink Mustang convertible and Ryan's old Woody (he had totaled the Porsche given to him on his sixteenth birthday).

I nearly had a heart attack when I saw an old, badly beaten jeep parked near Ryan's car. I immediately recognized the license plate number and little sister placed "Hello Kitty" bumper sticker. I knew a lot of the other cars around here too. Next to Chad's was Jason's hand-me-down Ford-something and Zeke's very used convertible. I also spotted cars belonging to a couple members of the hockey team, football team, and even some tennis first stringers.

So much for a drama club member "plus one" party.

I opened the front door and wasn't at all shocked. The house was packed, bodies pushed up against bodies. There weren't as many people as I'd thought from the parking situation but there had to be at least seventy people, probably more, jammed into the living room. Most were just standing around, unsure of what to do except shout to friends over the pounding music. But don't think that just because there were a lot of people there that it means it was, like, sleazy or something. It was… I dunno. But it wasn't gross or nasty or anything.

I spent most of my time chatting with Ryan and Gabriella, gulping down cokes and convincing her to go out for the Phantom of the Opera (which we did, after a couple of minutes). Sometimes I'd glance at the crowded dance floor and think I'd seen Chad or Eurasian-man but whenever I looked back they had gone. It was kind of creepy. Every now and then Sharpay would join us to momentarily play hostess, but would leave soon after.

"I'm going to go get another soda," I called over the obnoxiously loud music. Ryan nodded and I began to push through the crowd.

As I neared the refreshment table a voice called out from behind me:

"Hey, Bolton!"

I turned around and there stood Eurasian-man with a basketball held in his large, long hands. Before I could react, he had pulled his arm back and flung the ball at me.

It hit me right in the center of the face. I could hear a sort of crunching snap on impact as my nose shattered. I blinked as my face began to paralyze from the pounding pain. I attempted to regain some sort of composure as blood flowed freely down my face, but, of course, that wasn't going to happen.

Suddenly, a cool, fruity liquid was poured over my head and down the rest of my body. It was sticky and wet but irritated my eyes so much that they turned red and began to sting. I spun on my heels to catch the culprits.

It was Andy and Jose (Hockey team captain). Both they and Eurasian-man were laughing.

"Fruit-punch!" Andy called out with glee. To my immense embarrassment, he said it loud enough that everyone stopped talking to each other and started to stare.

Even worse, a lot of them laughed.

"What are you idiots doing?"

Both voices came from either side of me. When I looked to my left, I saw Sharpay, looking terribly pissed, and to my right I saw… Chad. His face twisted in anger.

Both of them began to yell at Jose, Andy and Eurasian-man at the same time.

"What kind of dumb joke is that?" shouted Chad, looking livid.

"How dare you do that to him?" screamed Sharpay, stamping her foot and flinging her bangle-covered arms into the air.

"You're totally wrecking the party!"

"How can you treat a human being that way?"

"Yeah! Do you guys always have to be jerks to him?"

"He's your old captain for God's sake!"

"Look, I'm going." I said, raising my hands to stop their yelling. "Bye."

I didn't push to leave. The crowd parted as I walked towards the door. No one said a thing, but they all stared, their eyes following me until I finally slammed the door to the main entrance shut.

The rain was falling hard when I left the house so I pulled up my hood and ran. In the few seconds that it took to reach my truck, I became totally and completely soaked. I slammed the door shut and turned up the heater. A hard, thumping beat began to come through the speakers. It was Kanye West or… someone like that. Anyway, it's not important.

I sped away from the Evans… estate or whatever feeling thoroughly… annoyed. Despite the super-hard rain, the fruit punch was still all over me, causing my clothes to stick to my body and made my hair dry in little points. I'd probably be dry by the time I got home because it took, like, thirty minutes to get to the Evans' normally and at some point during the party something happened to one of the roads so I had to take a longer route home, forcing me to go out on to some of the bumpy desert roads which are, like, hell to drive on in the rain. This makes the trip about, like, an hour longer than necessary in a good car, which mine, of course, isn't.

So I was driving down the dirt road I had to take to get home when suddenly there was a loud thunk! and the tuck lurched, causing my head to fly forward so hard that I hit the stirring wheel. (Hooray! Now I didn't only have a broken in nose, but also a smashed in forehead.) My vision was slightly blurry from the blow, but I could see smoke pouring from the hood through the heavy sheets of rain.

Lovely.

I pushed open the door and popped up the hood, flinching from the sharp chill of the cold, wet night. If I knew anything about cars I might've been able to fix the problem, but the fact was that I didn't. I mean, I was good at helping my dad repair little problems and things—I used to love reaching in between the parts to pull out some loose screw or something—but I didn't know how to do it myself. Whenever my dad began to talk about how to fix such-and-such a thing with the engine I just sort of tuned-out, nodding at appropriate moments. As I gazed down at the tangle of… mechanical bits, I realized that I really ought to have paid attention, but whatever. I couldn't change anything then could I?

I slammed it shut, jumped back into the warm shelter of the truck and shook my hair out, spraying drops of water all over the windscreen.

"Shit…" I moaned, pounding my head against the stirring wheel. "Shit. Damn. Crap. Stupid truck. Broken. Bitchy. F—" I stopped as I remembered my cell phone. It was still in my pocket.

I shifted in my seat to pull it out. I glanced at the pictures along the top of the screen. Good signal, but almost no minutes, just barely enough to make one phone call.

I called my house, hoping my dad could come and pick me up. It took a couple of minutes for anyone to pick up the phone but finally my mother's voice came through the receiver.

"Hello?" I'd never been happier to hear her voice, even though it sounded scratchy and wavered because of the cell phone.

"Hey mom, I don't have a lot of minutes left so have to make this pretty quick—my truck broke down and I dunno how to fix it. Can you or dad come out and get me?"

"I'm sorry Troy! My car's in the shop and your father is out with some of his friends."

"Can't you call him? Shouldn't he have his cell phone?"

"I'll try. I'll send you a message once I'm done, okay?"

I quickly told her where I was.

"Thanks," I hung up and waited. About thirty minutes later a dinky little nameless melody played signifying a text message. I flipped the phone open and read it.

Your father doesn't have his cell and I don't know where he and his friends are. Should I call Ryan or Gabriella?

I sighed. I knew Gabriella didn't have her cell with her or had a car, Ryan usually kept his phone up in his room and I had no idea what his house number was.

No, I typed quickly. What should I do?

A few seconds later I received a reply.

Pray.

I'd almost forgotten who I was talking to—my mother, the reluctant reform.

I twiddled with the radio dial, trying to find something good. Of course, nothing was on that I liked. I left it on some crumby Avril Lavigne song and flopped back in the seat. The rain continued to pound against the windscreen. I shut my eyes as the stupid static-filled radio played.

"Hey! Hey! You! You! I don't like your girlfriend! No way! No way! I think you need a new one!"

"Bossy little bitch," I muttered and had a sudden, inexplicable craving for a hamburger.

The next song played wasn't any better than that. It was some screaming guy yelling about wanting to kill himself.

I found myself saying the psalm my mom always said when something went wrong. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: from whence shall my help come? My help cometh from HaShem, who made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, He that keepeth Israel doth neither slumber nor sleep. HaShem is thy keeper; HaShem is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. HaShem shall keep thee from all evil; He shall keep thy soul. HaShem shall guard thy going out and thy coming in, from this time forth and for ever."

I surprised that I could remember the whole thing. Opening my eyes, I stared out the front window and watched the rain turn the dark outside world into a blur.

And that's how I spent the next hour, staring out the window and listening to lame music. Once they played a song that I was okay with ("Apologize" by One Republic and… that guy whose name I don't remember.), but I always find that song funny because he sings "'pologize" instead of "apologize" so I laughed through most of it. I wished I could call my mom and tell her I was alright, she was probably worried sick, but since I couldn't I continued to jokingly sing along with some techno-pop girl and her drum machine.

"What hurts the most…" she sang.

"Was being so clo-hose!" I crooned in a stupid falsetto. I liked the Rascal Flatts version more. "And having so much to say… And watching you walk away!" I propped my feet up on the dash and began to pretend to conduct. "Never know-hing! What could have be-heen! And not seeing that lovin' yo—Oh my God!" I shrieked. I fell down in my seat and became partially wedged in between the stirring wheel and the chair.

Of course, I had a reason for screaming and falling. Someone had tapped on the window.

I pushed myself out of the gap and looked through the rain-streaked plexi-glass. I couldn't really see the person, but I knew that silhouette.

Slowly and uncertainly, I rolled down the window.

"Hey Troy," said Chad. His hair had seriously deflated from the few seconds that he'd been out in the rain. "Your mom called me."

Damn her.

"You want a ride?"

I thought for a moment about saying no, rolling up the window and continuing my brainless activities, but then I remembered my mom, who had to be going crazy not being able to know whether or not I was okay. I couldn't just stay here while she tore out her hair, waiting for my dad to come home.

"Sure," I said, a little reluctantly. "What should we do about the truck?"

"Um… we can call a tow-truck once we get to my house," he said. I could tell he was just as apprehensive to talk to me as I was to him.

I nodded and he got of the way so I could open the door.

The car ride was really awkward. Chad almost never turns on his radio unless he has his iPod and all the plugs with him, which I guess he didn't. We just sat next to each other in silence for at least fifteen minutes. Finally, as I was reaching over towards the dial, Chad spoke.

"Troy?"

"Yeah?" I said, withdrawing my hand.

"I'm really sorry about those idiots and…" he took a breath, gripping the stirring wheel so hard his knuckles were white. "And about everything."

I looked up at his face, his eyes were fixed (reassuringly) on the road, but he would occasionally glance over at me, hoping I would say something. I didn't.

"It was… stupid of me, I just thought…" he paused, trying to figure out how to say what he was thinking. " I just thought that you had been using Gabriella to hide the fact that you were gay, and I thought that was really rotten and that I should teach you a lesson. I know I went about it the wrong way but…"

"You know, I'm not gay," I said, staring at my sticky knees. "I'm bi."

"Yeah, I know that now but at the time—"

I sat up and looked at him once more. "Why do you know that now? You didn't believe me when I told you before."

"Ryan confronted me a while ago and I've wanted to talk to you since," he looked over at me. "Well actually since the team decided to kick you off… Things got out of hand. I sort of lost control over them. If it makes you feel better, Zeke didn't want you out either."

"It does actually…" I said quietly, gazing out through the windscreen.

"Troy," Chad looked straight at me. "I really am sorry. I've known you forever. We've been like brothers. Heck, I practically lived at your house for several years. I don't want to loose you as a friend because of some… brain aneurism… a moment of temporary insanity. Please, forgive me."

I bit my lip.

"We're still friends," I said, smiling at him.

And suddenly, the rain seemed to clear.

We didn't say anything until we reached Chad's house. After calling the tow-truck, Chad looked over at me and smiled.

"Want to sleep over?"

"I'd love it."

After calling my mom and reassuring her that I was alright, we went up to Chad's room and watched films. We were half-way through Bourne Identity (we had decided to have a Bourne-fest) when Chad turned towards me.

"You coming to the Winter dance?"

I thought about it for a moment. If I went, it would probably be with Ryan and Gabriella, who would probably dance together most of the time. It'd be like a reenactment of Napoleon Dynamite, starring me as Napoleon. Also, everyone would stare at me like "Oh my God, I wonder if he's going to dance with another guy…" It'd be awful.

"Probably not," I said, watching the car chase on the screen.

"Oh," he said, turning over on his bed so the screen was upside-down. "I spoke to Ryan and Gabriella a bit at the party and they want you to go."

"Why did you continue to speak to Ryan when you were so angry at me for liking him?"

"I dunno. Ryan's fun."

I didn't push it.

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Finally! Whoo! Sorry this took so long and (honestly) wasn't all that good. I wanted to make them friends again though. Oh well. Here are the songs mentioned:

1 "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne (I'm sorry for making fun of "Girlfriend" since I know some of you guys probably like it, but Avril Lavigne just annoys me so much now. I liked her first two albums, but this new one is, like… slutty… Anyway… Yeah.)

2 "Apologize" by One Republic and Timbaland (Sorry about this one as well, I really do find it funny that he says "'pologize" though.)

3 "What Hurts the Most" by Cascada/Rascal Flatts (I actually really like both versions of this song!)

Also, about mentioning Kanye West, I love the song "Stronger", so… yeah.

And the psalm (121, 1-8, I think...) that Troy says should be fairly accurate. I looked it up anyway. If there are any faults, please tell me.

Please review!

-OFsI