Title: Elsewhere

AN: Sorry it's been practically a decade since I've updated. Being 25 got in the way. I have a shit ton going on, as you might imagine, coupled with a hilarious drunk dial from Alex that was basically "So how's our kiiiiiddddddd" to which my response was "Fuck you I hate you more than anyone else in the universe. Good talk, see you out there." Anyway.

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Chapter Fifteen

It was the last week of school before winter break. Every window was decorated with snowflakes and paper snowmen and the janitor had taken to coming to work in a Santa Claus hat. Downstairs in the kindergarten, Andy couldn't concentrate because he was thinking about Santa Claus, who existed, he'd decided, in spite of what Kevin had said. Plus, he'd asked Troy if he believed in Santa Claus, and Troy had said yes. Sharpay had said she believed in Santa Claus, too. And when Andy wandered off to pay a visit to Mr. Martinez during recess the other day, Mr. Martinez had said that he believed in Santa Claus before sending Andy back to the playground. Everyone knew that principals never lied. All Andy could think about was staying up on Christmas Eve to see Santa Claus fly through the air. Even if he didn't get any presents or anything, there was always the chance he might see him, and that would be enough.

Upstairs, in the second grade, Kevin couldn't concentrate because he was thinking about his mother. The only two surefire ways of getting out of going to the halfway house, or at least, the only two surefire plans that he could definitely carry out, were neither appealing, nor would they come without consequences. He'd considered doing something terrible. . . stealing something from a store or attacking someone or setting a fire, something so horrible they'd have to send him to juvenile hall right away. He'd disbanded that idea pretty quickly; not only was Kevin unsure of whether or not he could actually force himself to commit random acts of violence, he knew that juvenile hall would be the worst place he could get himself sent. Andy and Zac wouldn't have anybody with them. They'd see what he'd done, and maybe do bad things themselves. Kevin felt guilty for even considering the idea.

The only other thing he could think of to do was to pretend to be sick on the twenty-fourth. Then, they'd probably have to leave without him. Then. . .

No, Kevin decided. For one thing, he'd be abandoning his brothers. Everything they'd been through before, they'd been through together. It was better that way. Anyway, even if he got sick for real, he couldn't stay with Troy and Sharpay. They had been taking care of three kids who weren't theirs for just about a month now, and they deserved a break, Kevin reasoned. They probably had plans, anyway, and he didn't want to be the one who screwed them up.

Even somewhat resigned to the fact that going to stay with his mother was something he wouldn't be able to get out of, Kevin wasn't able to get his mind off of it. He couldn't concentrate on anything else, especially not school. In spite of his resolutions to apply himself and try harder, Kevin found himself staring out the window more and more, doodling in the margins of his notebook and handing assignments half completed. Mrs. Schafly noticed this, and she wasn't happy.

It was Tuesday night. Three more days of school were left before winter break. Troy was standing in the kitchen, coloring in thumbnail sketches with one hand and eating a Christmas cookie with the other. Sharpay, who was working the late shift that night, had enlisted the boys' help and made a few batches of them that afternoon. She'd taken a plate of nice, carefully decorated ones to the emergency room with her, but the rest. . .

Troy smiled. Two out of her three assistants had produced only three edible looking cookies between them, and those they'd eaten on the spot. The rest of their creations lay on the plate in front of him, many broken in two, some slathered with so much icing they looked horrifically deformed, others pockmarked with little holes from being stabbed multiple times by a three year old armed with a tube of icing. They all tasted pretty good, but you wouldn't believe that to look at them.

"Maybe you shouldn't let them do that anymore," Kevin had suggested nervously, looking at the icing smeared counter and his two giggling little brothers. "I don't think they're any good at it."

Sharpay smiled. "They're having fun," she said. "Don't worry."

"They're wasting a lot of icing," Kevin pointed out.

Sharpay laughed. "Some of it is ending up on the cookies."

"Yeah, but not very much." Kevin carefully applied a chocolate smile and two chocolate eyes to the snowman he was making.

"We do it fasterer than you do!" Andy exclaimed, his mouthful of cookie. "It takes you a million hours to do one cookie."

"Yeah." Kevin shrugged. "So?"

"So. . ." Andy reflected for a moment. "We're betterer at it, cause we makes more cookies the fasterest."

"Yeah, but mine are nicer," Kevin pointed out. "They're carefuller than yours." That was true, too. It took Kevin an hour to complete six cookies, but he did his meticulously, taking care not to smudge any icing or break them in half. Kevin never let his guard down for a minute, Sharpay noted. He didn't want to risk facing the consequences of messing up.

Troy lifted a decapitated Santa Claus off the plate and chewed on him thoughtfully, mentally comparing the scarlet and crimson colored pencils. Scarlet, he decided, then found himself reaching for crimson. Crimson? Plain old red, maybe?

That was when the phone rang. Troy picked up the receiver and tried to talk around the cookie crumbs in his mouth. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is Meryl Schafly," a woman's voice said. "I'm Kevin's teacher."

"Oh, right!" Troy swallowed hard and straightened up, as if Mrs. Schafly herself had just strolled through the kitchen door. "I'm Troy Bolton."

"Kevin's foster father," Mrs. Schafly said, and it wasn't a question. Troy nodded.

"Right." You wanna make something out of it? he added, mentally, and grinned.

"I'm calling to request that you and I schedule a parent teacher conference for sometime within the next few days," Mrs. Schafly said. "I feel Kevin is having certain. . . issues. . . at school that need to be dealt with shortly."

This was news to Troy. "What kind of issues?" he asked, blurting "Is he beating people up?"

He thought he heard Mrs. Schafly chuckle. "No. . ." she said, slowly. "We have not had problems with Kevin. . . behaving inappropriately. . . toward other students."

"Okay." Troy nodded again, even though she couldn't see him. "That's good."

"Yes, that is good," There was no way Mrs. Scafly could disagree with that.

"Can I ask what he does, though?" Troy asked.

"Mostly nothing," Mrs. Schafly said.

"Oh, is this just the standard time of the year for parent teacher conferences?" Troy asked, relieved.

"No, I mean he literally does nothing," Mrs. Schafly said. "No work, he does not pay attention. He does nothing."

"Nothing?" Troy repeated, wondering how someone could do nothing for seven hours every day.

"Sometimes he hides books under the desk and reads them during class," Mrs. Schafly admitted.

"So he does. . . something. . . then," Troy said.

"You could call it that," Mrs. Schafly agreed.

Troy nodded. "When should I come in?"

"Kev?" Troy set the receiver back into the cradle just as Kevin was coming down the hallway. "That was your teacher on the phone."

Kevin groaned. "Oh, no. . ."

Troy smiled wryly. "She wants to have a conference."

Kevin looked scared. "You told her no, right?"

"Kevin!" Troy was incredulous. "Why would I do that?"

"I think she hates me," Kevin warned him. "She'll probably tell you lies."

"Kevin. . ." Troy shook his head. "All she said was that it seemed like you were having trouble concentrating in school, and she wanted to talk about what was going on. She said she tried to talk to you, but she doesn't think it helped."

"Did she say I was allowing outside forces to keep me from reaching my full potential?" Kevin asked.

Troy raised his eyebrows. "She said that to you, too?"

"She told you you weren't reaching your full potential, either?" Kevin's eyes grew wide. Mrs. Schafly said that to everybody? Did she go running up to strangers in the supermarket and accuse them of not achieving their full potential?

Troy shook his head. "No, she said that you weren't."

"I don't care about my full potential." Kevin set his jaw and scuffed at the linoleum floor with the toe of his sneaker. "I don't think I even have any potential. I don't even know what potential is. It sounds like something you have to take medicine for."

Troy grinned. "You do have potential, Kev. Everybody does. You probably have more potential than most people."

"Great," Kevin sighed. "Just what I need. Potential."

"It isn't a bad thing." Troy thought for a moment, wondering how to explain this. "Potential is. . . like. . . what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Kevin sighed again. "I really haven't thought that far ahead."

"Come on. . . you must have some idea," Troy said.

Kevin's expression was guarded. He did know what he wanted to do. He didn't know if he wanted to tell Troy. "I want to. . ." he began.

"What do you want to do?" Troy prompted.

Kevin looked up at him. "I want to write things," he said, quickly. He waited for the aftermath. Troy would probably laugh at him.

"That's a good idea," Troy said, nodding. "I bet you'd be good at writing."

"I don't know." Kevin swallowed. "I just like to do it. I'm not any good."

"Don't sell yourself short." Troy shook his head. "I'd love to read anything you wrote."

"You can't!" Kevin exclaimed, more sharply than he meant to. "I mean. . . I don't show them to anybody," he explained, apologetically. "Because of what happened with.. . I mean, because of a reason. Because I don't want to."

Troy nodded. "Yeah, it's hard to show people things like that. Writing is kind of personal."

"Yeah," Kevin nodded. "It's personal." He paused for a moment. "If I ever write anything I want to show anybody, you can see it."

"Thanks." Troy was genuinely touched. "I'd appreciate that."

Kevin met his eyes. "But maybe only you could see it. Because I don't like it when a lot of people look at it."

"I'd be really careful with it," Troy promised. "Really careful."

The two of them were quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally, Troy spoke. "What were we talking about, anyway?"

Kevin flushed. "Umidontknowmaybenothinginparticular," he whispered.

"What?" Troy asked.

Kevin took a deep breath. He could lie to everyone else in the entire world, but he couldn't lie to Troy and Sharpay, for some reason. "My teacher called," he said, inwardly kicking himself. Now, Troy was going to yell at him. Now he was going to get in trouble.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that," Troy agreed, nodding vaguely. "I mean after that."

"Oh." Kevin thought for a moment. "Potential. You asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up."

"That's right," Troy nodded. "I was going to say that you have the potential to become pretty much whatever you want, Kev. Potential isn't a bad thing. In fact, Mrs. Schafly just wants you to use what you have. . . she wants to try to help you."

Kevin shook his head. "I don't know. . . she keeps telling me I'm driving her crazy."

"Are you?" Troy asked, interested.

Kevin shook his head. "I don't know. She's been teaching second grade for fifteen years. I guess no one ever must have driven her crazy before."

"It would be quite an achievement," Troy remarked, dryly.

That was when they heard the hellish, other-worldly screeching and the tremendous crash.

"Okay, now you stay there and don't move." A long, long time ago, Troy had come in and told Andy and Zac they had five minutes before they had to go to bed. Then Troy went into the kitchen and started drawing. Then the phone rang, and Troy had talked on the phone, and then he'd started talking to Kevin. These were the longest five minutes Andy had ever spent in his life, and he was bored. And so, while Troy and Kevin were in the kitchen, he decided to find something to do.

Zac had been sitting out the couch with a drawing tablet on his knees, scribbling with crayons. He was drawing a jungle. Little men were hiding in the bushes. There were monkeys in the trees. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't notice Andy had climbed onto the couch next to him until his brother leaned over and scrutinised the picture he was drawing.

"Andy, go away!" Zac wailed.

Andy didn't go away. "That's a pretty good picture," he said. "What is it?"

Zac picked up the tablet and hid the front of it against his stomach. "You can't see," he said, "and I'm not telling you."

Zac was mad because Andy was scaring him. Andy was mean. He kept running around the house with a songbook in his hand, pretending that he was a carolaler. Whenever Zac told him to stop, his brother would just sing louder.

"Zac, I'm not going carolaling anymore," Andy said. "I promise."

"You promise?" Zac narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "I promise-omise." He smiled. "I promise-omise-lomise-somise-romise-bomise-thomas-"

"Stop promising!" Zac yelled.

"Okay." Andy folded his hands between his knees and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Do you want to do something?"

Zac went back to his drawing. "I'm not going carolaling."

Andy shook his head. "No carolaling. You and me are gonna play flying cat baby."

Zac raised his eyebrows. "How do you play that?"

"First," began Andy, "you have to get a cat."

Gallagher was sitting on top of the heating vent, his fur lifting in the warm blast of rising air. He growled as Andy approached him. Gallagher wanted to be left alone.

"You good kitty, come here a second," Andy's voice was a whispered sing-song. "Do you want to play a little game?"

Zac stood back. "I'm not going by that cat. It's mean."

"No, she's a good boy," Andy said. He was under the impression that all cats were of the female gender, even if people called them "boys." He also thought that all dogs were male, even the ones that had puppies. "Aren't you a good boy, Gallagher?" He turned to Zac. "She's the bestest cat in the world."

"No it isn't." Zac shook his head and put his finger in his mouth. That cat was the biggest, scariest, meanest cat in the world. Every time he got anywhere near it, it snarled at him. "I hate that cat."

"Gallagher," Andy cooed, "Gallagher, want to play a game?" He stroked the cat's fur. Gallagher purred contentedly. "C'mon, boy. C'mon, sweetie. Play a game with us."

"No!" Zac shrieked.

"Yeah, come on." Andy coaxed Gallagher off of the heating vent and onto the edge of the coffee table. "Zac, you sit on the other edge," he instructed.

"Why?" Zac asked.

Andy rolled his eyes. "Because I SAID," he told his little brother. "Now, do it."

Zac shrugged and climbed onto the edge of the coffee table, as far away from Gallagher as he could manage.

"Now, stay there. . ." Andy instructed. "Don't move." He looked around the room, grabbing a battered blue blanket off the couch.

Zac narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you need your blankie for?"

"A cape," Andy said, as innocent as ever.

"What for?" Zac pressed, watching his brother tie the blanket around Gallagher's neck. "How come?"

"Because it's the flying cat baby game," Andy explained. He stooped to pet Gallagher. "You like this game, don't you, Gally?"

Zac took a deep breath. "This doesn't sound good. . ." he began.

It was all he had time to say. Andy took a flying leap and launched himself onto Zac's end of the coffee table. The table tipped, sending Gallagher flying through the air. The cat let out a blood curdling screech as it crashed into the Christmas tree, knocking it over. Landing among the branches, unhurt except for his injured pride, Gallagher thrashed back and forth, tangling himself in the string of Christmas lights and yowling all the while.

"He can FLY!" Andy yelled, happily.

"What happened?" Troy rushed into the room, Kevin right behind him.

"I don't think that cat can actually fly!" Zac had ended up on the floor next to the upended coffee table. "I hated that game, Tay!"

"What did you DO?" Kevin demanded, his voice of mixture of alarm, disgust and concern.

Andy grinned up at Troy and spread his arms out expansively. "Did you know Gallagher can FLY?"

"Oh. . ." Troy was speechless. He had no idea what had happened. The cat was screeching so loud he could barely think. "He. . . can?"

"You fly!" Andy told Gallagher. "Like Superman!"

Troy took a deep breath. "What happened?"

"They did something really bad," Kevin told him. Oh, shoot! he thought. Troy's probably going to kick us out now. . . and find three calm, quiet kids who would never, ever dream about sending cats flying into Christmas trees. He swallowed hard.

"It wasn't really bad!" Andy defended. "We were just seeing if the cat could fly."

"Can he fly?" Troy asked.

Andy nodded, grinning hugely. "Yeah, he'd of flieded great if that TREE hadn't been in the way."

Troy took a deep breath. "Andy, Gallagher has never flown before. How did you get him to fly?"

"It's really easy," Andy told him. "All you do is put him on the end of the table, and tie his cape on him, and then you jump on the other end and he goes. . ." Andy's eyes were glazed with joy by this point, "fly-ing through the ai-ir like SUPER GROVER!"

"You. . . launched him?" Troy didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. He thought it was kind of funny, but it could have been dangerous, too. . . maybe he should be mad. "Andy, I don't think. . ."

Kevin, in the meantime, had crept over to the fallen Christmas tree and was attempting to get close enough to Gallagher to release him from the strand of Christmas lights he was snared in. "Ouch!" he yelled, as Gallagher raked a sharp-fingernailed paw down his forearm, drawing blood. "You. . . you stupid cat!"

"He's really smart!" Andy protested. "He can fly!"

"Here, Kev, let me do that." Troy knelt and reached for the Christmas lights. Gallagher clamped Troy's finger firmly between his teeth. "You da-. . . I mean. . . you dumb. .." Troy stole a furtive glance at Kevin, Andy and Zac, "you dumb cat!"

"You aren't supposed to call people dumb," Andy piped.

"Oh, there are many things I could call this cat," Troy observed, darkly. "Many, many things. . ."

"Here, I'll get him out for you," Andy offered. "He always listens to me."

"Be really, really careful," Troy cautioned, but Andy was already pulling at the string of lights which bound the cat so tightly. In two or three motions, Gallagher was free.

"Okay, boy!" Andy exclaimed. "You're all set!"

Gallagher's frenzied screeching began anew as he shot straight into the air with rage, landing a few feet away, near Zac.

Zac, more terrified of Gallagher than ever, scooted away as fast as he could and wrapped his arms around Troy's neck. "Don't let the cat get me!" he cried.

Andy was triumphant. "I told you Gallagher could fly," he said.

"That wasn't flying," Kevin countered. "I don't know what that was, but it wasn't flying."

"He'll get over it," Troy decided, hoping it was true. "Just don't play games like that with him anymore."

"Yeah, Andy," Kevin and Zac added, in unison.

For a moment, Andy looked taken aback. "I thought he might like to fly. . ." he began, blinking back tears.

"It's okay." Troy put an arm around Andy, grinning at Kevin. "I know you were only trying to help him."

"I was," Andy agreed, matter of factly.

"You could have killed somebody-" Kevin began, but stopped himself. "Troy, do you need any help getting the Christmas tree back up?"

Troy scrutinized the fallen Douglas fir. "Actually, I'd really appreciate that."

"Yeah," Zac nodded. "Andy BROKE it."

"I did not." Andy shook his head. "Gallagher did."

"It's not broken." Troy untwined Zac's arms from around his neck and wondered where to start. "We'll get it back up."

And they did, too. . . sort of. "Maybe we should turn it around so no one can see that side," Kevin suggested. "It looks really. . . smashed up."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "Gallagher should have pickeded somewhere else to fly into."

Zac tugged on Troy's shirt. "What's Sharpay going to say?"

Troy looked momentarily stricken. Sharpay wouldn't care about the Christmas tree, but she'd definitely want to know where he'd been while Andy and Zac were sending cats flying into Christmas trees. Then, she'd say something like, "Well, it wasn't your fault. You can't watch them every second, but Troy. . . I mean, it takes three seconds for someone to get seriously, seriously hurt. What if the Christmas tree had fallen over on one of them? What if the cat had gone through the window and there was broken glass? Everything is dangerous, Troy. You would not believe some of the things I've seen in the emergency room. . ."

And then Troy would feel guilty, and go to bed having dreams about little kids being trapped under toppling Christmas trees. He knew what Sharpay would say, and he didn't really blame her. After all, she had seen some tragic and entirely preventable accidents and working in an emergency room made her a lot more attuned to possible dangers than he was. Still, Troy sometimes wondered if his own attitude might not be healthier. Neither Andy nor Zac had gotten hurt, the cat hadn't gotten hurt and the Christmas tree was expendable. Therefore, he would not let his mind dwell upon the might-have-beens and just be grateful that he didn't have to deal with any of them.

Troy sighed. "We'll just turn it around and hope she doesn't notice."

He caught the wide-eyed look that passed between Kevin and Andy. "You mean we're not going to tell her?" Kevin asked.

"You mean we're going to. . . lie?" Andy whispered.

Now Troy really felt guilty. "Well. . . no, not lie, exactly. But I think it might be better if. . . since nothing happened. . ."

"We don't exactly run out and tell Sharpay first thing," Kevin finished, satisfied. "Not lie, Andy. Just don't make Sharpay worried."

"Okay." Andy agreed, nodding.

Troy cringed, feeling awful. "You can tell her if you want," he said. "I mean, she won't worry or anything. . ."

"You don't want to get in trouble?" Zac piped.

"It wasn't his fault," Kevin told him. "Troy doesn't want you to get in trouble."

Zac's lowed lip trembled. "I didn't do it! Andy did!"

"I didn't!" Andy shook his head emphatically. "Gallagher did."

"Right," Troy agreed. "Gallagher did. So, Gallagher will be the one who gets in trouble."

"I don't want that to happen," Andy breathed.

"I do," Kevin decided, examining the scratch on his arm.

"But we won't tell Sharpay because . . . I'm going to fix it," Troy said, finally. "But you guys have to go to bed."

"I want to stay up, see you fix the tree," Zac piped up.

Troy bit his lip. He hadn't anticipated that. "Well, Zac, you really can't do that because. . ."

Andy's eyes were shining. He gazed up at Troy with deep admiration. "Wow!" he said. "I don't believe it!"

"What?" Troy asked, wondering what Andy didn't believe.

"I didn't know you were magical," Andy breathed.

"Magical?" Troy sputtered.

"Yeah." Andy nodded. "Zac, Troy's going to fix the Christmas tree by magic."

For a moment, Zac wondered whether to be terrified or amazed. He ended up staring at Troy with a mixture of the two written on his face, his body tensed and ready to flee. "You ARE?"

"No one can watch him while he does it," Andy went on. "It's against the law."

Zac sucked in his breath. "Oh. . ." Everything made sense now.

"We have to go to bed so he can do it," Andy said, reaching for Zac's hand. "We have to be asleep." Andy shot a pointed look at Kevin. "It's like SANTA CLAUS," he said. "You have to be SLEEPING."

Zac, still regarding Troy apprehensively, followed Andy up the stairs. Kevin looked up at Troy, his hands in his pockets.

"If I were you, I'd just turn the Christmas tree around," he suggested.

"It would be easier," Troy agreed. "Do you think I should have told them?"

Kevin shook his head. "Nah. This way, you can get them to do pretty much whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Troy echoed.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, just threaten to turn them into a frog or. . . something. . ." He grinned.

Troy folded his arms across his chest. "Is that what you think I should do?" he challenged.

"Yeah," Kevin agreed. "Hey!" he laughed, as Troy picked him up and flung him over one of his shoulders. "Put me down!"

"Do you really think I should do that?" Troy smiled, heading toward the stairs. "Do you want me to. . . lie?"

"Lie!" Kevin beat his fists against Troy's back, giggling. "LIE! LIE AS MUCH AS YOU WANT!"

"That wouldn't be very nice," Troy pointed out.

"Just turn the stupid tree around," Kevin gasped, "and let me go!"

"No, I was thinking I'd just carry you around like this. . ." Troy had reached the upstairs hallway and was heading toward the boys' room, "until I got tired. . . and then I'd drop you. . ."

"No!" Kevin shrieked.

"Yes!" Troy exclaimed. He entered the room and grinned at Andy and Zac, who were sitting on their bed, staring wide eyed.

"Put my brother down!" Zac demanded, lunging at Troy.

"No, Zac, it's okay!" Kevin yelled, breathlessly. "It's okay!"

"There ya go." Troy deposited Kevin onto his own bed, maintaining his balance as Zac barreled into him. "Zac, don't worry. I'm not going to do that anymore. . . for now." He grinned.

Kevin shook his head a few times, to clear it. "Whoa. . ." He smiled, dizzily.

"Now, I am going to fix the Christmas tree," Troy said. "Am I right?"

"Right," Andy assured him.

"And you guys are going to. . ." Troy began, waiting for one of them to finish the sentence.

"Go watch?" Zac asked.

"Go tell Sharpay?" Kevin suggested.

"No. . ." Troy folded his arms across his chest. "You guys. . . all three of you. . . are going to go to bed. And go to sleep. Am I right?"

Kevin paused. "Um. . ."

"Am I right?" Troy asked, smiling at him. "Or maybe. . . I should just. . . find someone to carry around a little more, maybe. . ."

"Yes!" Kevin piped. "We will! We will go to bed!"

"Good," Troy smiled. "I'm glad we agree."

"Me too," Andy said seriously, climbing beneath the covers. "I'm very glad."

Troy ran a hand through his hair, grinning up at the ceiling. "I'm happy to hear it."

"Me too," Kevin agreed, his voice filled with mock seriousness.

"If people agree, then nobody's fighting," Andy went on.

"Andy, quit talking." Zac, unimpressed with this piece of kindergarten philosophy, frowned at his older brother. "It's 'noying."

"I'm just telling the truth," Andy said, forcefully, then hedged. "It's the truth, right?"

"Yep, it's the truth," Troy agreed. He turned to Kevin. "Now, where do you think you're going?"

Kevin grinned sheepishly. "To brush my teeth."

"Why? It's like you think you have to brush them every night, or something!" Troy teased him.

Kevin looked taken aback. "I do!" he exclaimed. "And in the morning, too. Every morning. And every night." Slowly, it dawned on him that Troy was kidding. "But I bet you never brush your teeth."

"No, I don't," Troy agreed.

"Because they're not real," Kevin went on. "They're dentures. Every night, you take'em out and put'em in a glass of water next to your bed."

"That's right!" Troy sounded pleased.

"And that's why I brush my teeth," Kevin finished. "I'm scared I'll turn out like you." He scampered down the hall in case Troy decided to pursue him.

Troy didn't. He sat on the edge of Andy and Zac's bed, shaking his head and grinning from ear to ear.

"I wanna see you take your teeth out," Zac told him.

"Kevin was joking," Troy told him. "My teeth don't really come out."

"No, they do," Zac insisted. "I want to see 'em come out!"

"But they're stuck!" Troy pointed out.

"I wanna see!" Zac exclaimed. "Please?"

"I think maybe they're stuck with glue," Andy said, unsurely.

"Oh. . ." Zac nodded. "Glue."

"Maybe Troy feels bad all his teeth fell out," Andy whispered, loudly enough that Troy could hear him.

"Oh. . ." Zac's eyes filled with sympathy. "Don't feel bad."

"Maybe new ones will grow in," Andy added.

"When Kevin lost his teeth, new ones grew in," Zac agreed.

"The tooth fairy must have brang you lots and lots of money for all your teeth," Andy observed.

"I won't tell Sharpay your teeth aren't real," Zac promised.

Troy held back hysterical laughter. "Thank you," he said. "I'd appreciate that."

"And I'll tell Kevin," Andy vowed, "that he can't make fun of you anymore. It hurts your feelings."

"Hurts your feelings," Zac echoed, shaking his head sadly.

"It's too bad, Troy," Andy said, "but don't worry. It isn't the end of the world."

Troy nodded, solemnly. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

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margaret