A/N: Okay, so now we get an insight of what Troy is feeling and we'll get to see his ‛perfect' life. Basically, he and Gabriella are like opposites. Except difficult opposites that wouldn't work in the real world. That is, unless they fell in love. : P Love, Whitney.
"Well I've got a bad feeling about this."
-TAKING BACK SUNDAY
CHAPTER THREE
Troy's Mind.
I made sure I was the first one to the hoop, swiftly whisking my way towards its delicate strings, the wind nestling my hair as I ran. I felt the power, the excitement, the success, as I made the hoop. I grinned to myself, proudly.
"Nice one, Bolton. You gonna take me up?" My best friend, Chad appeared from behind me. He approached me, as if to traverse me.
I threw him the basketball, "Show me what you've got."
In just the brisk of a second, Chad was darting towards the hoop, then dangling from its strings, the basketball emerging from the hoop. He looked to me, an egotistical grin on his face.
"Nice man. You better save your stuff for the game though." I advised him, rushing up from behind him, kidnapping the ball, and suavely shooting it towards the hoop, making the shot.
"Are we practicing tonight at your house, dude?" Chad advanced towards me, folding his arms.
"Yeah, since practice was canceled because of the wet climate." I rolled my eyes. It was two weeks before the big game and New Mexico never had to deal with rain, until today, of course. My dad happened to be the school's basketball couch, and today, he canceled, which seemed absurd enough. He was a basketball fanatic.
"That's such ludicrous man. Your dad must've hit his head." Chad joked.
"Yeah, it stopped raining hours ago." I mumbled, "We're never gonna be prepared for this game."
"Yeah . . . so, what's new, man?" Chad inquired in a humdrum tone.
I shot at the hoop again, making it. "Nothing really . . . same old stuff, really."
"Yeah. . ." Chad droned, colorlessly, "I heard a few rumors though."
Oh brother. "What now?" I asked, kind of frustrated. Usually the rumors involved me and some girl. They always tried to gossip about me, about how I'm with some girl or something just because I talked to her. East High seemed obsessed with making idiotic rumors about me. It wasn't usually a big deal, just simple things that weren't true.
"I heard . . . there's a new girl." Chad had his arms folded, curiously, "You know anything?"
"Not really." I lied, dribbling the ball in a lame circle.
"Well, I've heard two sides. I've heard she's wicked hot, but I've heard that she's a bitch too." Chad chuckled, obviously amused by this.
That pretty much summed it up, I'd guess. I didn't really know the girl. She was cute, yeah, but that wasn't much. She seemed to have a completely different lifestyle then me. How would that ever work?
"She's not your type, man." I informed him, dribbling the ball between my legs. To my misfortune, it bounced away from me.
"Oh, really - what is she, like crazy or something?" Chad seemed a bit too interested.
"Kind of. . ." I muttered, kicking the ball, agitated.
"Dude, you did not just kick that ball." He criticized me, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Why is the majority of our school's population obsessed with gossiping? It gets on my nerves." I grumbled, watching the ball roll away, carelessly.
"Because we have Sharpay Evans in our school, that's why." Chad responded. We both cringed at the mention of her name.
"How could I ever forget?" I sighed, melodramatically, "That new girl sure did tell her off today though. It was pretty funny."
"Whoa. She told off Sharpay? Dude, that's awesome!" Chad seemed elated now.
"Yeah, it's about time, huh?" I shoved my hands into my sweat shirt's pockets.
"She must be pretty cool then, right? I mean, nobody tells off Sharpay."
"Yeah, she's cool, just not the type of person we'd hang with." I answered, nonchalantly.
"Is it true that she wore a skirt that basically went up her ass?" Chad asked, inquisitively.
I laughed at him. "Dude, do you want me to get her your number or something?"
We were interrupted by Zeke, another good friend of ours, who we hung out with a lot. He approached us, a wide grin on his face. "What it do, brahs?"
"What did I tell you about talking like a Jamaican?" Chad sighed.
"Man, it's whatever. So, what's up? I hear there's no practice. What's crawling up your dad's ass? And don't tell me a cockroach this time; you remember how I freaked out before." Zeke asked, glancing towards me.
"I never said that, I dunno what you're talking about. But, yeah, there's no practice today." I answered, giving him a whimsical frown.
"Oh, maybe that was Chad. . ." Zeke's eyes flickered over towards Chad, who just shook his head. "Meh, it doesn't matter. So, what were you guys talking about? Chicks, maybe?"
"You are such a perv, dude. I was talking about that new girl. I've been hearing rumors all day." Chad responded, casually.
Zeke's eyes lit up. I groaned. Here we go.
"Oh my brother - she is beautiful, and I mean beautiful. She's got dem legs, dem apple bottom jeans, dem boots with the fur--"
"Dude, please, just stop." I muttered, as he began rapping like an idiot.
"Aw man, you broke my wind. Anyways, she's hot shit. I'd fuck her." Zeke said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Really? How hot - scale?" Chad asked, chuckling.
"Chad, honestly, you actually believe him? He'll drool over anything he can see with his eyes." I cut in.
"Ouch, that hurts, T, man. What you tryin' to do? Hurt Zeke's feelings? And don't lie; you thought she was hot too." Zeke grinned, oddly.
"Troy, how long has it been since you'd have a woman in your life?" Chad folded his arms, impatiently.
"Oh come on guys, let's not go here again." I muttered, not wanting to hear their constant persuasive comments about dating. "I don't like anyone around here."
"Yeah, but even Sharpay's got some fine ass legs going on. You must be a jackass not to tap that immediately, especially when she's like . . . all obsessed with you." Zeke noted.
"Yeah, that's the point . . . she freaks me out. She's stalked me since third grade." I reminded him, shuddering.
"So, let the woman in already!" Zeke hollered, maybe a bit too loud. He smirked at me, compellingly.
"Ha . . . real funny, not." I picked the basketball up from the ground, dribbling it again.
"I honestly don't think Sharpay's Troy's answer." Chad sounded a bit disgusted by the idea. "Actually, I don't think Sharpay's the answer for anyone."
"Yeah, I definitely second that." I concurred.
"You guys are seriously made for each other. Maybe you two should go out. All I know is that there are some fine ass chicks in this school calling out for me. They're saying, ‛Zeke, oh Zeke'. Gabriella's one of them." Zeke seemed pretty intrepid about this.
"Yeah, she was calling your name today when she kept ignoring you." I mocked, throwing the ball towards the hoop, it making it, again.
Chad chuckled.
I grabbed the ball, and noticed my dad's navy-blue van approaching the parking lot, waiting patiently. I looked to them, than threw the ball to Chad. "Let's wait until practice tomorrow; I'm beat."
"All right man, works for me." Chad called back to me, as I jogged over towards my dad's van.
I got in the passenger's seat, fastening the seat belt, throwing my book bag and basketball clothes into the backseat.
"How was school?" He asked, dully, pulling out of the school's parking lot.
"It was all right." I responded, curtly.
"The rain sure was coming down hard earlier." He commented, informatively. I didn't say anything, not sure on how to reply, because I completely disagreed with him.
"Chad's not coming for dinner?" He inquired, glancing towards me, his eyes the same sapphire color as my own.
"Nah - he had something to do." I lied, not really into being labeled lazy just because I decided to avoid practicing with Chad for one day.
"So you're gonna practice alone?" He persisted, but I could see the look of disapproval in his eyes.
"Yeah. . . I'll shoot for about an hour."
We arrived back to my house around four o'clock. The sky was still a dark, misty color from the early rain. And the air smelled differently. We weren't used to the rain - at least, not in a desert.
My dad walked inside, while I grabbed my basketball from the garage and took it outside. I looked up to the hoop that I usually shot at, and began making shots left and right. I began to grow tired after awhile. It seemed like I wasn't ever going to miss a shot. Maybe I was on a roll or something.
"Damn, boy's got skill." A satirical, piping voice interrupted my shot, and I missed the hoop, horribly. It stirred away from the gravel, ending up somewhere in the dirt.
I turned around, and found myself looking into a pair of immense chocolate-colored eyes. It was that girl from Art Class, the new girl, Gabriella, I think it was. She wore the same attire; a short skirt that really did ride up her ass, a tank top that seemed to reveal too much, and her hair was down and luscious with ebony-colored curls. I mean, she was beautiful, but she portrayed herself in a way I could never enjoy. She seemed interested in anything that had a penis. Or so it seemed.
I greeted her, nonetheless, putting on a polite smile. "I didn't know you were my neighbor." Really, I had no idea.
"Hmm. Looks like its fate." She gave me this smile, and I can't explain it. The corner of her mouth seemed to twist in a seductive way, and it drove me a little insane for just a second. She was hot. It was hard not to notice.
She made her way towards my garage, and me, standing there, with a casual Wildcats ruby-red sweatshirt and a pair of matching red sweatpants. And of course, I was on the brink of sweating. But I'm sure that didn't really matter.
She was inches from me. "You look pretty hot. Working out like that will kill you, you know?" She taunted.
I didn't respond, kind of not knowing what to say. She really was bad with giving a guy time to reply too, she must've had something down her shirt. She always had something to say. Maybe she wrote it on her arm. She knew how to drive a guy crazy though. I'll tell you that.
I'm not kidding.
"Doesn't kill me, only makes me stronger." I winked at her, modestly. Though I can't imagine how lame that really did sound.
She made a face, proving that I just made myself look like an idiot. "Right, so why aren't you jamming out to Space Jam songs or something? You did that shot like Michael Jordan. And I mean exactly like Michael Jordan." She seemed impressed.
"Thanks, music stops me from concentrating though." I took an aim for the hoop, making it within perfect allotment.
"So this is what keeps you from partying, huh?" She seemed a bit muddled while saying this, lifting an eyebrow up, weightlessly.
I retreated for the ball, taking another aim for the hoop. "This is what keeps my sanity." I confessed.
"Oh, that's a pity." She muttered, kicking a rock, distantly. She watched as the basketball went directly into the hoop without trouble. "I believe I can fly." She chuckled, singing jokingly.
"I believe I can touch the sky." I rolled my eyes. "You're distracting me."
"Oh, you're a poop, no fun whatsoever. I believe I can fly." She grinned, as if she had just accomplished something.
I dropped the ball, watching it roll away from me, exasperated.
"You don't like music?" She inquired, looking towards me with exemplary brown eyes. You know, if she didn't dress like a complete prostitute, she could pass as a normal girl. Not like I was complaining that she did or anything though.
"I love music. It's just, not my basketball remedy." I answered, honestly, my eyes now placed on her.
She impended towards me, becoming so close to me that I could hardly stare directly at her. I looked away, the intensity of our proximity driving me crazy. The words rolled off of her tongue in the most inveigling way, "Well maybe you should give it another chance." I felt so caught up by the sudden temptation lying between our bodies that I didn't notice my dad calling in the background.
"Troy." I suddenly heard the roaring of his frustrated voice from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready."
I backed away from Gabriella, walking backwards slowly. "See you in art, Troy." her voice echoed from the small distance between us. I continued walking back, my eyes placed on her, curious to her character. What was wrong with this woman? She was far too upright and bewitching.
I stumbled over a rock, almost falling backwards on my behind. I heard her giggling at me from in front of me. I turned around, my face turning a bit red from embarrassment, heading towards the house.
I strolled in, modestly, heading towards the kitchen table. My mother and father sat there, looking upset and impetuous.
"Sorry." I apologized, taking a seat, setting the napkin on my lap, civilly.
"Troy, why is your face red?" My mother asked, looking a bit regaled.
"Uh . . . well, from practicing." I responded, discomfited.
I looked down to the food in front of me. "Wow, it looks great, mom." I gave her a forced beholden smile.
She returned the smile, and I knew she wasn't going to continue on with the subject. "So, how was your first day as a junior?" She gave me interested eyes, as I began to gradually shove spaghetti down my throat.
"It was all right."
"You think you're ready for the big game?" My dad asked - which wasn't surprising. He couldn't manage to ask me about anything besides basketball. That was all we had in common. We weren't extremely close, I guess you could say. He didn't really listen to me or want to talk to me about anything, and when he did, it was just awkward . . . for both of us.
"Yeah, the first game's always exciting." I glanced away for a second, feeling pressured by the extremity of his eyes on me.
"I assume you'll be working hard tomorrow during practice?"
"Yes sir." Why didn't I just salute him while I was at it?
"So, I was just like, so, Sharpay, you're hot, and she was like, oh, really? And I was like, oh yes baby, and she was like . . . don't talk to me like that, Zeke. And I was like, I can't resist you, you're one hot mama. And then she was like, I don't like you. I like Troy." Zeke continued on, as we made our way towards second hour.
I rubbed my forehead, tensely. "Dude, just stop, seriously." I was still tired.
"I can't believe that whore is still waiting for you." Zeke sounded disappointed. "You need to seriously tell her you don't like her."
"Look, man, I'm totally not feeling it today, so can we just lay off the drama for once? Thanks." I grumbled, petulantly.
"Damn, T. What's with you today? You seem so, irritable, dude." Zeke observed.
I stopped at my locker. "It's just . . . my dad's all freaking out over the first game already." I purposely hit my head against the locker. "Already, and it's like, three weeks from now."
"Your dad is so," He began.
I cut him off, "Don't say it, man."
"Militant," I groaned as he uttered the horrifying truth, "seriously, but your mom is," He began.
I rolled my eyes, cutting him off quickly, "Dude, don't say it."
"Sexy," I clapped my hand across my eyes, shaking my head.
"Dang it, Zeke."
"I know, I know. ‛She's gross, cough, wheeze, blah, blah.'" Zeke folded his arms.
"No, that's just disgusting, man - that's my mom. I got my genes from her - seriously, you're practically calling me sexy. And that's kinda freaking me out." I muttered, spinning my combination.
"Hey don't you go all Clay Aiken on me, dawg. You know I'm no homo." Zeke reminded me, humorlessly.
"I wasn't going all Clay Aiken. You're just obsessing over my mom, and that's just kinda weird. I mean, remember, I'm the one who's related to her." I grabbed a few books out of my locker, taking a glance at myself in a mirror I had, winking, than slamming the door shut.
"No, but seriously, like, that freaks me out. That whole thing you do, like, women do that, Troy." Zeke gave me a wigged out expression. "That whole wink thing. It almost beats out when you took me to that tanning place that one day. . ."
"Man, will you just forget about that already? It was one time." I mumbled, leaning against my locker.
"Dude, it's kinda hard, when you take a guy who's already dark to a tanning bed. My ass was burning for about three weeks. You don't understand that I have a sensitive ass."
"Well, you didn't have to go all commando on the tanning bed, man." I grumbled, quietly, "Honestly man, that was stupid."
"Well, sorry, Troy, I'll remember to be like you and go tanning in my boxers." I rolled my eyes to the loudness of his comment.
"And what about that time Troy - when you took me to get my hair done? That was gross man, how those women acted like you were the hair king or something. "Oh my god, Troy, your hair is so cute, and so pretty. I just love it. I have to put this stuff in it, and that stuff, and oh my god, do you want highlights, Troy?"
I began walking away from him. "Shut up, Zeke."
He walked after me, "Or that time that you kept like messing with Chad's hair. And you were like talking about how soft it was."
"It is soft." I murmured. "Even you said that once."
"Man, that wasn't the point - and the fact that you haven't done a woman before. Seriously, what's with you and the V card man, when's that gonna take place?"
"I'm about to turn around and stick my foot up your--"
"---And the fact that you aren't even attracted to the new girl. That's fucked up, man. Plus, that day that Sharpay came in, half-naked, and you were all like . . . ew. Like, sometimes I seriously question your sexuality, Troy."
"Zeke!" I shouted, turning around to face him, fed up with his comments. "You have got to be kidding me. I think she's hot, all right? I'm a guy, what do you expect? I just don't sit there and talk about it in public. Honestly, I think it's kinda rude when you tell her perverted things to her face. She looks a bit repulsed by it. There, are you happy?"
"Whoa - hot damn." I began to walk away from him again, and he continued following. "So you like her?"
"And this is why I don't talk to you about things." I continued walking, agitated.
"Dude, you need to like, tap that shit. She was all over your ass yesterday."
"What about you? I thought you were going to." I didn't glance over to him.
"Hell, if I can. She kept ignoring me, dawg. She was all into you though, all flirting and shit. Do you even understand how sexy that woman is?"
"She's my next door neighbor."
"She's your next door . . . what the fuck, Troy?" He had stopped and staring blankly at me, as if he didn't believe me.
I sighed, stopping also. "What? She lives next door to me. I didn't know until last night when I was outside playing basketball. She came over and talked to me."
"You lucky slut," He muttered, "so when are you gonna do her?"
"This subject is so irrelevant. I have two things on my mind this year; basketball and school. My dad will pummel me if I slack off." I turned towards the hallway towards second hour.
"Okay, okay, whatever. You're crazy as hell, man. But, can I have her?" He asked, ganging up alongside of me, anxiously.
"Dude, I really don't care. I don't know why it even matters what I say, considering the fact that I don't even know her well enough to like her. Plus, she doesn't seem like my type."
"Your type - man, what the hell is your type - Sharpay?" He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Why are you like, obsessing over my love life, man? I mean, you guys are always on me. It gets kinda old, you know? Why can't you just let me be?" I was at the door of my second hour.
"Because, you're missing out on a lot - I mean, haven't you ever thought about doing stupid shit just once?" Why was he even bringing this up now? "I mean. . . I talked to Gabriella, and we're gonna smoke some after school today. She wanted you to come."
I rolled my eyes. "I have practice, and so do you."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure your dad can handle the sick excuse. Just tell him you had to take care of a school test or something." He persuaded, stopping in front of me.
"Zeke, man, I can't. This is idiotic. I don't need this kind of stuff in my life just to have a good time. Plus, my dad wouldn't believe any of that." I pushed passed him. "You and Gabriella can have your good time together."
And as I walked into the classroom, I heard Zeke snicker, "Pussy."
I sighed, frustrated, heading towards my seat. I felt someone poke me on the shoulder. I turned around to face an elated Sharpay Evans, looking great, as usual, her flowing golden-blonde hair down to the edge of her shoulders, her eyelashes batting at me, trifling. "Hi Troy," She shrieked, excitedly. "You're not mad about what happened with Gabriella yesterday, are you? That bitch started it. She's such a whore. She likes about five guys already. Did you know that?"
I gave her a polite, forced smile. "I'm not mad Sharpay. . . and that's. . horrible." I honestly didn't really care what she had to say, it was always untrue or some kind of rumor. It never really made any sense, nor was it out of pure honesty.
"Oh, Troy, it is." She grinned at me, cutely. "That pig, Zeke, tried to ask me out again."
"Yeah, I heard." I murmured, rubbing my neck, looking at the clock.
"Ew, gross, that man needs to be put on a leash. You know?"
"I can't agree with you more." I honestly couldn't.
"So, you're totally not interested in that stupid little slutty bitch are you?" She sounded egotistic, as if she assumed I wouldn't be. "I sure hope not. She seems like she just wants to make you her toy. She totally is trying to mess with my brother, that dumb bitch." She kind of just goes on and on, and I'm already tuning her out.
I believe I can fly.
What the?
I believe I can touch the sky.
I think about it every night and day.
I made a face. Sharpay continued squeaking on like an obnoxious wound up Furby or something. Meanwhile, I kept hearing R. Kelly in my head.
Spread my wings and fly away.
I believe I can soar.
I see me running through that open door.
By now, it was all getting kind of weird.
END OF CHAPTER.
Ha. Troy's mind is a bit twisted. I hope you enjoyed Zeke in this chapter. I'm trying to make him stand out as the annoying friend, since he never really got a chance to be a person in HSM. Chad will come in eventually and make things exciting. Because everybody loves Chad, including myself. Troy's sexuality thing is amusing to me because people assume Zac Efron is gay. Which is funny because I don't think so? Some people are just ignorant. : P. HSM3 comes out Friday. Yaaay. REVIEW for updates.
-Whitney.