Chapter 13
Troy slammed the front door and ran up to his bedroom. He locked his bedroom and flopped down on the bed and put his head in his hand.
He couldn't believe had had just pushed Tiffany down the stairs. Not only would Gabriella probably hate him for life (even though she hated Tiffany, too), his worst fear was coming true.
It was happening all over again.
He could still remember that tragic day...
"Mommy! Mommy!" a five-year old boy shouted. He stood at the top of the stairs, watching his own mother falling down the apartment stairs.
She stopped at the bottom just as Mr. Bolton stepped out of the elevator.
"Oh, hi, son. Why are y--" he stopped when he saw his wife's body sprawled on the cold, steel floor.
"Lucille," he walked over. He shook her gently at first then harder. "Lucille?"
She was dead.
Mr. Bolton looked up to see Troy standing at the top of the stairs, staring down.
"You did this!" he shouted at his son.
"No!" Troy shouted. "No, I didn't!"
"You killed her!" his father yelled.
"No, I didn't!" Troy exclaimed, running back upstairs to his apartment. But his stomach was tied up in knots.
Troy had lived with that guilt for five years. Somehow his father had convinced him that he WAS the guilty one. And Troy had believed him.
He was sent to live with his uncle in New York. His uncle treated Troy liks his own son and got him enrolled into Juilliard. Eventually, Troy's father had come to live with them, claiming that he was "cured."
Troy was a bit nervous around his father but still tried to please him.
Until Troy's eleventh birthday...
"Come here, you!" his dad shouted, pulling on Troy's ear.
Troy didn't expect this. Then he smelled a whiff of alchohal.
"Dad! Let go of my ear!" Troy shouted.
"You killed her!" Troy's dad shouted. "You're a worthless bastard! Dancing! Ha! I'm gonna hurt you so bad, you won't be able to dance again!"
He dragged Troy out of their apartment and stopped at the top of the stairs.
All Troy remembered was being pushed...
Troy had woken up in the hospital. Someone had seen what his father had done and he was arrested for child abuse. His uncle continued to bring him up until he died of a car accident that year.
That was when Troy was sent to live with Aunt Julie.
He had kept that a secret for years. Who knew what people would think when they told him that story? The only person who knew was Sharpay.
And now this...
Seeing Tiffany staring up at him from the bottom had really scared him. Gabriella was practically sleeping but someone must've told her by now.
And he didn't want that. He had hated his father but still tried to please him.
It was the same thing with Gabriella.
But different, too.
He had tried to please his father so he wouldn't be angry at him.
He wanted Gabriella to like him because...well...he loved her.
Not like her. Loved her.
He began to realize that.
But Gabriella probably hated him now.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Troy didn't want to answer it but by the fifth ring, he had.
"Hello?" he answered."
"Hey, Troy."
"Gabriella," Troy gasped. "So you're okay?"
"Yeah." Gabriella was quiet for a minute, then..."I heard you pushed Tiffany down the stairs."
The knots came back.
"Why'd you do that, Troy?" Gabriella wondered. "She was really scared. I know she's a total bitch and all, but--"
Troy sighed. "Look, I have to--"
"And why'd you leave school early?" Gabriella interrupted. "Some of the kids told me you just walked out. How;d you get home?"
"Called a car," Troy answered.
"Well, why did you leave school early?" Gabriella repeated. "I mean it's not like you pushed someone down the stairs before."
Troy turned pale. "Um..."
"Did you?" Gabriella wanted to know.
"Brie, it's kinda hard to explain--"
"Try me," Gabriella told him.
Troy rolled his eyes. "I gotta go."
'But--"
Too late. Troy hung up the phone.
Gabriella put the phone back in its cradle. Feeling dejected...and scared.
Had Troy pushed someone down the stairs before?
Was that why he left school so early...because he couldn't live with the guilt?
Or was it something else?
Gabriella stared at the phone. Should she call again or...
Suddenly, she had an idea.
She picked up the phone and called Information.
"Hi," she said. "I'd like the Evans' house number, please..."
Wow. She's desperate!