Chapter 4
Disclaimer: All creative rights to the characters in this story related to High School Musical belong to its original creators. Any other names, places or events that may have similarity to existing/actual names, places or events is purely coincidental and the use of such is for the purpose of this story alone. Lastly, the author does not, in any way, profit from this story.
It was supposed to be another ordinary Saturday.
She certainly prepared for one. As was her habit, she woke up before six that morning and went about her morning routine. She bathed, got dressed, ate a bowlful of cereals and brushed her teeth. Like usual, she rudely hollered inside her brothers' room to wake them up and remind them of their schedules while they groaned, burying their heads under the pillows and once satisfied she irritated them enough to wake them up, she bid her goodbye to Lucille.
One thing that wasn't part of her routine was when she took a peek inside her room to check on Troy, placed his jacket over his clothes that were draped on the futon and afforded herself one last glimpse of him before he disappears out of their lives for good. He was deep in sleep and if she didn't already know he's a rich kid, she'd think he's very comfortable on her bed. He was sleeping on his stomach, one arm dangled on the side of the bed, the tips of his fingers just about touching the floor and because of his height, the bed was a little short for him so his feet also hung at the end. Nevertheless, a little amazingly, he slept like he owns the bed. Gabriella smiled at his peaceful look, his ruffled brown hair adding a boyish appeal to the chiseled lines of his handsome face.
If she ever felt so inclined to tell her friends about Troy, which she's not, no one will believe such a gorgeous specimen of a guy had slept on her bed. Not even Kelsi. They'd think she's fantasizing. How could they, anyway? She can't even believe it herself and yet the proof is lying on her bed.
Troy is different, that's for sure. It would be unfair to compare him to others. Unfair to him. He isn't in league with most of the guys she knows because of his social background and obvious sophistication. But in spite that, and even with his standoffish demeanor and indifference, he showed her a good amount of consideration and kindness. Granted that she helped him, still it was unexpected and unnecessary of someone from his station in life . . . but it did feel very, very nice to be the recipient of his attention.
It really is ridiculous; this feeling of melancholy over the thought of not seeing him ever again. But she was feeling it and damn if she knew why. She had a hard time finding sleep last night and Lucille had noticed her restlessness too, else why would her aunt tell her in that soft but holding a wealth of meaning voice of hers, "Troy seems like a good guy and it was very nice of him to repay you the way he did after saving his life but I think it was just that—nothing more than repayment and maybe gratitude. It's best to let it go, Gabriella."
In her logical thought, she knew her aunt was right, of course. If she hadn't helped Troy with those muggers and offered him a place to stay, he wouldn't have acted extra nice to her. She's quite certain he wouldn't spare her a second glance had they simply crossed paths on the street. Still, she couldn't help thinking, no matter how foolish and unrealistic the thought is, that maybe . . . just maybe, his actions were prompted by more than just repayment and gratitude.
But when you're living in a deprived area, the harsh realities of life dims whatever silly hopes you may have. What you see is what you get. Logic and practicality dominate your daily decisions. And as much as she allows herself to dream, to imagine herself like one of those beautiful, feisty and spirited heroines in the romantic novels she reads who find love in the most unusual circumstances, reality always has a way of catching up and smacking you wide awake.
She sighed. Yes, she has to let this go. Fanciful thoughts are for fancy people. Sweeping romance happens but in books.
Without intending to, she stared at Troy for the longest time, unconsciously imprinting his face in her mind. She kept telling herself to get moving, to let her feet budge from where she stood but when it did, instead of heading for the door, she took a step closer to the bed and before she could stop herself, lifted a hand to gently brush a lock of hair that fell over his closed eye.
His eyes are the bluest she's ever seen—
He moaned softly and rolled over on his back. Gabriella jumped a good height off the floor and her hands flew over her mouth to silence the gasp of shock both from his sudden movement and from the realization that he was sleeping shirtless, exposing to her startled eyes the well honed, sinewy expanse of his bare torso.
Hell, here come those fanciful thoughts again!
She closed her eyes to keep from staring at Troy's chest and waited a few seconds for his next movement, afraid to shift a muscle lest he suddenly awakens and sees her hovering close. When she allowed herself a quick look at the steady rise and fall of his chest and was certain that he's still very much asleep, she quietly turned away from the bed to leave the room.
"Goodbye Troy Bolton." She whispered as she held on to the door, looking back at the sleeping stranger on her bed with a wistful smile before she turned the knob and left him alone.
As soon as she was out of the building, Gabriella forced herself to let the illogical feelings go. She will remember Troy Bolton, of course, but pleasant as it is, it will remain a mere memory. Time to pull away from the haze that surrounded her since last night and back to reality. She had a full day ahead of her and as is her schedule, every Saturday is a day to visit her father.
Yes, it was just like any other Saturday.
* * * * * *
He fell off the bed.
He groaned loudly and when slowly he opened his eyes, the first thought came to mind that the ceiling was too low. He reached a hand toward the bed, levered himself up from the cold floor and slumped back on the mattress, waiting for his sleepy, disoriented senses to come into focus.
The ceiling really was low. He thought fuzzily. The bed was narrow and too short for him. Turning his gaze from the ceiling, his eyes landed on his jacket neatly draped on the futon with the rest of his clothes and his Vans tucked on the floor next to it . . . and finally it dawned on him where he was. Abruptly, Troy sat up and checked the small clock by the window's ledge. It was a few minutes past seven. Way too early for someone whose earliest time to wake up in the morning is ten. But then again, he's in somebody else's bed, somebody else's house and today he needs to get his bearings together to continue with his plan to stay away from his father.
The light tap on the door removed the last vestiges of sleepiness in his head. "Come in." He called, immediately assuming it was Gabriella checking up on him.
Jason poked his head through the wide crack when he opened the door and gave him a sleepy nod in greeting. "Gabriella left already." He announced without preamble as if he knew Troy was expecting his sister to materialize at the door instead of him. "Lucille and Chad too." Yawning, he added, "If you need anything before you leave, I'll be in the kitchen."
It was a hint to hurry and a dismissal but he did not take offense, his concern was of another matter. "Does Gabriella have Saturday classes?" Troy inquired casually; disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see Gabriella before he leaves but he was alert enough to guard the sinking feeling from showing on his face.
Jason eyed him curiously for a bit then shook his head. "No."
Sensing he wasn't about to elaborate on his reply and volunteer Gabriella's whereabouts on a Saturday, Troy let the matter drop. It isn't his business to know anyway and what good will it do if Jason tells him. He was still leaving. "Thanks, man. I'll be out in a minute." With a short nod, the door closed behind Jason.
As he donned his clothes, Troy pushed aside the unreasonable disappointment over not seeing Gabriella today and focused instead on mentally making a list of things he needed to do. Staying in Albuquerque is not an option for him. He's practically incapacitated here. He can't even go to Ryan and Sharpay's country club, Lava Springs, because as guardian to his cousins until they both turn twenty-three and unless those two show any interest in taking over the running of the property, Jack has full control of the club's operations and its staff who are most likely, same as the others under the corporation's employ, loyal to Jack as well. Surely, if Troy goes there, his father will be informed of his presence.
Presently, the only person to help him who won't tell on him—for obvious reasons—is Gabriella and her family but they helped him a great deal already. And they're not exactly overflowing with resources. It would be an abuse of kindness if he continues to burden them. He could not, in good conscience, while there are still other avenues to pursue, take advantage of Gabriella that way.
The best thing for him to do is to call Sharpay and enlist her help into getting out of this rut. Yes, his cousin is the person to ask. Apart from the fact that she would not hesitate at all into helping him and keep the matter a secret, Sharpay also knows all the right people . . . people with connections and ample resources to aid in getting him back to L.A.
It should be easy once he's back in his home city. His resources are there. And speaking of resources—he opened his nearly empty wallet—he needs more money if he wants to get anything accomplished today.
He was shrugging his jacket on, thinking of asking Jason to point him in the direction of the nearest cash machine so he can withdraw money, when he remembered he already gave the jacket to Gabriella. Troy paused, withdrew his arm from the sleeve, chuckled and shook his head then tossed the jacket back on the futon. The girl has a thing against receiving stuff . . . quite unusual for a female but then, despite the little he knew of Gabriella, he couldn't really put her in the same box with all the other females he's acquainted with. It would be an insult to her character. No matter how short their acquaintance, she deserves her own special box.
His gaze travelled around the bedroom he didn't pay regard to last night because he immediately fell asleep after Gabriella left him inside. Somehow, as uncaring and unobservant as he is of his surroundings and of other people and all the more reason he should adopt the same attitude in this instance, he suddenly felt it necessary to commit Gabriella's room to memory. Since he's been deprived of seeing her before he takes his leave, he felt he needed something else to fill the gap, and her room with all her possessions in it, is the closest thing to do it.
His reasons maybe faulty, ridiculous even, and laughable and so unlike him but he couldn't stop himself from satisfying his interest and curiosity of Gabriella Montez. He had meant what he said to her last night about missing her. He surprised himself over that admission, probably more than he surprised her, but the longer he thought about it the more he knew it wasn't a lie he made up just to sweeten their conversation.
He sighed at his thoughts which went to a completely different path the moment he met Gabriella and her odd family. Just what is it about Gabriella that pulls at him? Yes, the circumstance of their sudden meeting was highly irregular in every sense and he had been so tense yesterday after finding himself lost that he wasn't in complete control of his faculties, but why is it that even now she continues to intrigue him? She's not really what he would call a beauty that beckons his attention. She's more on the sweet, pretty side and since he's never bothered with sweet and pretty types before, why then was he drawn to Gabriella? At this point, he knows it has nothing to do anymore with compensating for saving his life but he isn't capable of thinking for explanations why he's going to miss the one person who is nothing but a stranger to him—kind stranger, but a stranger nevertheless.
He did his best to put his indifference back, to be aloof once again but his gaze contradicted his efforts as it slowly surveyed the Gabriella's room.
It was small . . . no surprise there. But like the entire apartment, it was neat and orderly. The bed was narrow but pristine and he knew smelled faintly of roses. The light feminine scent had actually lulled him to sleep last night. It was covered in a plain white sheet that did not get rumpled even when he had slept on it. He won't delve on how that happened to be so and simply chalk it up to another one of Gabriella's delightful quirks at orderliness.
There was a tall closet made of light wood propped against the far wall, one futon, and one medium sized window behind it, a small round mirror hung next to the closet, a small study table with a lamp in one corner, and no dressing table. The room, by his knowledge of women's room and by comparison to Sharpay's room, was bare but practical. And instead of an assortment of beauty products, there are books stacked atop the only table in the room.
Upon closer look, unable to stop his curiosity from being satisfied, Troy laughed to discover that although his little savior may act boyish, dress in ill fitting clothes and doesn't have a very positive opinion of her face, she apparently indulges in romance novels with cheesy or provocative titles and a few of the covers displaying gorgeous women in seductive or near naked poses. Now that's quite unexpected but also telling . . . and for some bizarre reason, he felt delighted to know she reads these sorts of books.
Without hesitation, pushed by a sudden elated need to have the last word with Gabriella before he exits her life, he grabbed a pen and writing paper from her desk and wrote a note:
Dear Miss Montez,
You left the jacket. I'm not used to being denied so call me stubborn—you are too, if you must know—but the jacket is yours. It's not payment. Think of it as something to remember me by and like I said, it looks much better on you.
I did some snooping here. Nice book collection! Sorry that was rude of me but to be honest, I don't regret it because I was pleasantly surprised to discover you're a romantic at heart. But give me a day or two to get used to the idea that my heroic Peter Pan has a thing for suggestive titles and provocative book covers.
My eyes have been opened. It seems Peter Pan can't be a kid forever.
In a few weeks, you can expect a package from me. I'll scour every bookstore in L.A. for those kinds of titles and covers. And, no, Gabriella, you cannot return it.
Thank you for saving me and for convincing your aunt to let me stay. Don't let anyone change you.
Your stray,
Troy Bolton.
Grinning, he folded the paper and slipped it between the pages of the topmost book on the stack. How unconventional of him to write a letter. He's never written one before but surprisingly, in this instance he doesn't mind. His spirits lifted a bit at the thought of Gabriella reading his letter.
He wished he could see her reaction though.
* * * * * *
"How are you, baby girl?" Lucien Montez, a tall man in his mid forties with handsome features still evident despite the years spent in penitentiary, whispered gruffly as he enclosed his beloved daughter in a hug. Like every other Saturday since his confinement when she comes to visit, his eyes become misted and his chest would tighten with a wealth of regret . . . but in a way, to a man sentenced to life imprisonment for inadvertently killing his wife out of blind rage, he still had plenty to be thankful for.
Amidst the turmoil in his life, his daughter understood him better than his late wife did. She could lift his spirits with her smiles. She loves him unconditionally. And she forgave him even when no one else did, even when he couldn't forgive himself.
Of late, he lives his days in the dreary conditions of the state penitentiary not complaining, doing his best to treat the distasteful situation as a passing inconvenience and looking forward to every Saturday when he could spend a few hours with his daughter. She's like a reprieve from his burdens, a light at the end of the tunnel.
If his late wife became his yoke, his despair, Gabriella is his miracle. His saving grace.
Gabriella hugged her father around the waist, and pressed her cheek against the starched texture of his prison clothes. The tightness of their prolonged embrace spoke of their affection, their longing for each other and many other things that words could hardly convey. She sought in his embrace the warmth of the love only a father can give to a daughter while Lucien, until now, apart from the outpouring of emotion, silently begs for her forgiveness even though she told him long ago that all was forgiven and forgotten.
"I gained two pounds, Papa." She conveyed with a laugh when they pulled away and she sat beside him on the long bench, resting her head on his shoulder. This was how their talk usually began . . . with mundane topics.
"You imp." With a grin, Lucien rumpled her soft curls affectionately while he draped an arm over her slim shoulders, pulling her close. "Thin as a reed, I'd say. A strong wind will surely carry you off into the air. Eat like Jason or Chad and you'll fill out nicely."
"Jason and Chad!" She snorted, her nose wrinkling. "Those two eat like ravenous bulls. Nicely won't be the word, Papa, if I eat like them . . . chubby would be the result."
"Nonesense. You'll burn your food easily. You're an active girl."
"I'll need to be extra active if I eat like them."
Lucien pulled back a little to scrutinize his daughter's face, a suspicious grin tugged on his lips. "Wait a minute . . ." He raised a brow. "you're doing this on purpose for some boy, aren't you?"
"Doing what on purpose?" She asked, deliberately misleading the query.
"Dieting." He obliged but chucked her under the chin and gave her a look that says he's not about to be misled by her.
She rolled her eyes and burst out laughing. "The pretty girls in East High use that word more often than I can count. They're obsessed their calorie intake." She slipped both arms around Lucien's waist and pressed herself close while he put his arm back across her shoulders. "The word is foreign to me."
"These pretty girls you talk about don't happen to be the ones in the group picture you showed me last week?"
"Yes, most of them."
"Those aren't pretty." He grunted. "They're trying hard to look pretty though. You're the pretty one."
"Papa, you realize your opinion is biased—" She lifted her head and quirked a delicate brow at him. "You're my dad . . . you're expected to say I'm pretty."
Laughing, Lucien averted answering and instead kept a steady stream of queries about his sister Lucille and the two boys she adopted and likewise, Gabriella is more than willing to impart information about them. She regaled him about Chad and Jason's week—the often hilarious situation they fall in, the mischief they did, how they're doing in school, the girls they were associated with for the current week and other trivial things—which, like always, had Lucien laughing. Then she would tell him next about Lucille.
"Chad's been practicing hard with the team. He's getting along real well with the Red Hawks."
"He's got the skill, baby girl, and he's dedicated, determined as hell too. He'll go far, I'm sure."
"I'm tutoring Jason in Calculus and French. He's trying to impress some girl in French class. So far he hasn't a clue about Calculus and only mastered the French words 'oui' and 'cherie'."
"That's two words at least. Give it another year and he'll master two words more." Lucien laughingly joked while Gabriella erupted in giggles. "That boy only thinks of girls, doesn't he? He needs to rub off some of that thinking to Chad. You never tell me about his interest in any girl."
"Yeah . . . now that you mention it, it is kinda odd that Chad hasn't mentioned any girl of late." Gabriella pondered suddenly curious and mildly irritated with herself for not realizing it sooner. "I'll pester him tonight about that. I'm sure he's hiding something."
"And Lucille? She came by few days ago, only talked about her work at the center, about you and the boys. Nothing about herself. I'm beginning to think she's doesn't want me privy to her personal life or she's resigned to live out her life as a widow."
"Oh Papa, Aunt Lucille has plenty of admirers . . . but she's very adept at rebuffing them." She expressed with a sad note. "I don't know why she does it. Once when I was in the center, I met a few of her admirers and they seem like pretty decent fellows. I think there was even a doctor who was quite persistent but . . ." Shrugging, she looked to Lucien with a bewildered expression.
"Maybe she's not ready yet. Her experience with Gary wasn't exactly easy." Lucien said. Gary was Lucille's husband who died of cancer five years ago and the man is never an easy topic for any of them especially on Lucille. "She looks happy though, doesn't she?"
"Yes." Gabriella understood her father's apprehension for Lucille. The time she had with Gary was not only a financial trial but an emotional one as well. She of all people knows that Lucille deserves every biy of happiness she can get. "Chad even said she looks content. You don't have to worry about anything, Papa. We take good care of each other. I'm more worried about you."
"Don't be. I'm fine." He stated firmly. "I'm on kitchen duty so it's easy."
"That's good . . ." She avowed, approval in her eyes. "I wouldn't want you getting into a fight with anyone here."
"I strive to be in good terms with everyone here. It's wiser and safer that way."
Well assured, Gabriella continued relaying to Lucien. He was absorbed by her stories, feeling as if he's also a part of it. "It's a miracle that poor kitten didn't die after lodging inside Jason's shoes. God, the smell of those shoes will make your eyes sting and water! It's so horrible, Papa. It made Aunt Lucille rant and you know how she is . . . never flares up, always cool and calm."
"I'd say it's normal for boys to have stinky feet especially after a game." It's been obvious to Lucien even during the first couple of years in confinement that Gabriella spoke of Lucille and the two boys with affection and equally evident was that Gabriella is happy with her life . . . which is what Lucien really wants to know every time he asks his daughter of the week that passed. It was important to him that she's not deprived of life's simple joys and he's forever thankful that for once in his life he made the right decision to leave Gabriella under Lucille's care.
"As expected, you'd side with Jason on this." She said with a tone of exaggerated disappointment coupled with a dramatic shake of her head. "How utterly male of you, Papa. I bet your feet reeked as much when you were younger."
"I wouldn't know." Lucien replied coolly, enjoying himself immensely with their bantering. "I haven't smelled Jason shoes yet so I can't compare."
Gabriella pinched his arm, making him jump from the bench. "Ugh! Guys!" She groaned.
He dismissed that with a cluck of his tongue then laughed heartily at her disgruntled face. When their hilarity passed, he pressed on the subject he was more curious about. "So there's no boy?"
That gave Gabriella a pause and suddenly Troy's handsome face flashed before her. "No boy." Gabriella answered with a soft sigh. On the way here, she did her best to push him out of her thoughts but it wasn't as easy as she hoped. She thought conversing with her father would take her mind off of Troy and for awhile it did, only to be brought back again by her father's probing. It's not that she didn't want to tell him about the incident with Troy . . . just not now. Probably next week she'll tell him, when she's no longer disconcerted about the guy.
Lucien remained silent for a few seconds trying to see Gabriella's expression but she tucked her head under his chin to avoid his gaze. "Enough about that . . ." He relented bidding his time when she'd tell him what the wistful look was about. "I'd like to hear about your week. How's the play coming along? Kelsi's working everybody good?"
She wondered if Troy is still in the apartment. Nah, he'd be gone by now. What reason would there be for him to linger in their cramped apartment? "I'm having a blast playing Peter Pan. I get to fly around the stage . . ." She broke away from the embrace and dug inside her bag for the pictures she brought for Lucien to see. She always brings pictures for him. "Kelsi took pictures . . ." She said smiling gaily and pointed on the first photo. "Look, that's me in my costume!"
"You should've worn you're costume today." Lucien took hold of the pictures and smiled. "Imagine getting a visit from Peter Pan."
"It's a silly costume, Papa." Though she didn't want to, Gabriella's thoughts kept straying. Did Troy at least eat breakfast before he left? Was he in a hurry? Where will he go? "Quite embarrassing to wear in public, believe me, I know. I wore it yesterday and got mistaken for a boy." She was talking absently now, her thoughts more on Troy than on the conversation at hand. "Even got wounded and bruised because of it."
Lucien was alarmed, leaned away from her to better see her face. "What?!"
Gabriella realized her folly and inwardly groaned. So much for waiting till next week. She hadn't meant to tell her father that unfortunate incident yet because she knows he'll worry and she was still unsettled about Troy, damn it!
Sighing, she reluctantly told him what happened in the alley where she first met Troy, careful to leave out the few details about her costume being ripped to keep him from getting alarmed unnecessarily, and eventually how Troy ended up staying in the apartment and since she's never really hidden anything from her father, she also told him about the few hours she spent talking to him last night in her room.
Lucien was silent for a few minutes as if trying to absorb the details and when he spoke, his tone was a low, "That's quite a story."
"It happened." She flatly said.
"I'm not saying it didn't." He assured, seeing the frown on Gabriella's features. "Where is this boy now?"
She shrugged, sighing as though weary. "I'm sure he left already . . . to wherever he's going."
"Too bad for him."
She straightened beside him and eyed him skeptically. "Why is that?"
"Because he lost his chance to get to know you . . ." He replied in a matter-of-fact tone that Gabriella couldn't be sure if he was serious or merely playing her again. "and it seems to me based on what you told me about your talk last night with him, given the choice, he'd want to know you better."
She shook her head to argue his opinion. "He's rich, Papa, and good looking . . . very handsome." She emphasized as if that settles her point. "There's no reason for him to want to get to know me. What could he possibly find interesting in me? If I have to compare him to the heroes in the books I read, he'd be the handsome, rich, titled aristocrat while I'm the plain, poor country mouse. It's beauty and the beast gender reversed."
"Where did you get this maggot in your head that tells you you're not pretty? You are very pretty and I don't want you thinking otherwise."
"If you say so . . . then pretty it is." She forced a smile on her lips that looked pained rather than radiant.
To Gabriella's consternation, her father laughed at that making her flush in inexplicable embarrassment. Then he said all too knowingly, "But you have to admit . . . handsome lord falling for a pretty country mouse, though overused and cheesy, make for a good romance novel and you're a sucker for stories like that."
"Well," She huffed, annoyed that she's even broaching the subject of romance alongside her mention of Troy. "this is real life. Romance like that happens only in paper . . . and this talk in entirely ridiculous. We're talking about a total stranger here, Papa, who by the way is already gone and will never be seen again."
"You're probably right." Lucien said, controlling the urge to smile at Gabriella's flushed face. "But sometimes, baby girl, real life can pull off a few surprises."
"I hate surprises." Gabriella muttered and dug her face under her father's chin, telling him with her silence to quit the topic.
I know. Lucien sighed and drew her back into his embrace. He knows all too well how Gabriella hates surprises. She vehemently announced her hatred for surprises the day she saw her mother die and she realized Lucien was the one who killed her.
* * * * * *
By mid morning, Kelsi was waiting for her at the bus stop and before Gabriella could recover from her surprise or ask any questions, she was already explaining that they needed to go to East High as per Miss Darbus' request. Apparently, the props to be used for the play got wrecked, when last night the backdrop that was set up on the stage toppled over and crashed damaging the other prop pieces. Every hand was needed to repair or make new ones. Gabriella made no protest about helping. There was nothing to do in the apartment anyway and for some reason she didn't want to go home yet. Also, she wanted to get her backpack she left last night.
"Yeah . . . and speaking of damages," Gabriella thought it best to tell Kelsi of the torn costume since they're dealing with ruined props anyway. Kelsi threw her a wary sideways glance as they stepped up the steps of East High.
"What?" Kelsi asked in a voice that says she'd rather not hear what she has to say.
"My costume—the shirt, the belt and the sword and the hat too—" Gabriella bit her lip. Kelsi groaned and pressed a palm to her forehead. "It's gone."
Stopping in her tracks along the rows of lockers, Kelsi faced Gabriella. "What do you mean by gone? What did you do with it?"
"I had a little accident last night when I went home."
"What kind of accident? Is it your brothers?"
"No, no, not them." Gabriella waved her hands between them and clarified. "Muggers. I had an unfortunate encounter with muggers."
Kelsi raised a dubious brow. "Muggers? You were mugged?"
The skepticism didn't surprise nor offend Gabriella in the least. She's lived in the same area for more than seven years. Everyone knows her and her brothers. And no thug in their right mind would mug someone ther're familiar with or someone in the area. "Not me." She paused, considering how much to tell Kelsi and if her friend would actually believe her. Sighing resignedly, she made herself go on. "Someone else was mugged. He wasn't from around here and I sort of . . . assisted the guy with the muggers."
"Sort of assisted? Will you just tell me straight what happened?"
"I just did. They were about to stab him. The sword and the belt were used on the muggers. Hit them with the sword. Knocked one out. The belt was used to tie their arms and legs."
"Okay . . ." Kelsi said with a drawn out pause as if trying to decide to believe her tale or not. "I can imagine that but what about the shirt? My imagination doesn't stretch that far and even if it did, I don't like what I'm imagining you did with that shirt because it means you walked home shirtless."
"I'm not making this up, Kelsi." Gabriella said, running a hand through her unruly curls, not missing the subtle hint that Kelsi thinks the tale is a work of her imagination. "The shirt got ripped and I got this—" She lifted her t-shirt to show the bandage and the ugly bruising on her torso which made her friend gasp out loud as she finished on a dry note. "—a souvenir from one of the muggers."
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry . . ."
Tugging the shirt down, Gabriella smiled lopsidedly at Kelsi's wide eyed stare behind her glasses. No doubt there now. "Yeah, well . . . I'll remedy my own costume. Don't tell Darbus."
But Kelsi was no longer interested in the costume. "What happened to the person . . . you said it's a he . . . this guy you helped with the muggers?"
Gabriella expelled a breath, deciding to just get it over with and tell Kelsi what transpired last night then not speak about it ever again. "Okay, I will only tell this once so listen well . . ." Kelsi didn't need to be reminded twice. With rapt attention, she stood while Gabriella narrated her story in a voice that she strived to be casual as if the events last night and the person she helped was nothing out of the ordinary.
When she finished, Kelsi was speechless and her mouth was hanging open like she was trying to find the words to say. But before she could even think of it, Gabriella grabbed her hand and pulled her along the hallway heading for the auditorium. "Now let's go. Darbus will be in fit if we don't hurry."
The rest of the day was spent making the necessary repairs of the damaged set and the smaller props. Almost everyone involved in the play was there helping to right the damage. Kelsi, like everyone else, was kept busy under Miss Darbus' watchful eye and was given no opportunity to ask Gabriella anything about what she told her, which suited Gabriella just fine. She doesn't want to talk about Troy anymore. She doesn't want to keep thinking about him either so she busied herself in the corner where most of the costumes were kept, digging through piles of clothing to find one to replace the ripped shirt.
Thankfully, she found a heavy bolt of green cloth that was often used as a drape or a curtain and with some help from Martha, they were able to sew a new Peter Pan shirt same as the other that got ripped. The hat, the belt and the wooden sword were remedied just as easily and before long she was being strapped to the harness to test, at Miss Darbus orders, if everything on the stage is working properly.
"How's that?" Josh Foley asked, adjusting the tightness of the straps around her waist. "Too tight?"
"Nope." Gabriella quipped. "I'm more worried about that pulley up there." She pointed to the beams hanging high up overhead where the small wheel contraption aiding with the movement of the ropes are attached. "It might not hold my weight once I start swinging."
"It'll hold like before. There's no problem with the rope or the beams." Assured Josh flashing her a grin. He looked up at Emmett Benson, a stocky junior who was in charge of controlling the ropes, keeping it steady while Gabriella is in the air, and gave him a thumb up sign. "Pull her up, Benson!"
"Emmett, if anything happens to me, I'll kill you." Gabriella called out, showing him a fisted hand in mock warning. "There should be two of you up there."
"Martin is sick." Emmett shouted back and then gave a mighty tug on the ropes, lifting Gabriella off the stage floor higher and higher. "Relax, Montez."
And so it began, the swinging she enjoyed so much even with Miss Darbus rapping out commands from the front row to where Gabriella should direct her swing next. All corners of the stage was covered to see the freedom of movement while flying in the air and since Peter Pan was a playful sort, Miss Darbus and the rest of the students called out suggestions for her to try different styles of flying . . . "on your back, arm behind your head . . . sideways . . . wave your arms . . . somersault . . . twisting while flying . . ."
Soon enough everyone was laughing as Gabriella obliged their shouted suggestions without a qualm and even doing some of her own ideas for whimsical sort of flying. None realized that although Emmett was a burly guy and weighs several pounds heavier than Gabriella, he would naturally tire of holding the rope secure while keeping a moving Gabriella at a specific height. More minutes passed and sweat broke from his brow, he was ready to let go of the rope which now stung his palms.
"Miss Darbus, I'm tying the rope!" He shouted loudly amidst the din the others were making below.
No one answered him. They were all focused on Gabriella and her stunts. Grunting, he decided to tie the rope than risk it slipping from his grasp. He bent in front of the steel hooks, let go of one and to loop the end through, all the while tugging the rope steady from the constant jerks of movement caused by Gabriella's stunts. It was a strain on his arm and when one of the students suggested Gabriella do a cartwheel, Emmett's one hand grasp on the rope faltered and before he knew it, the rope slid quickly out of his hold.
"Gabriella! The rope!" He shouted, bending over the railing in a futile attempt to reach the end of the falling rope. "Catch her! Catch her!"
Loud shrieks and shouts and screams made Kelsi look up from the piano in confusion and then from the corner her eye she saw someone sprinting from the row of chairs, jumping up the piano and unto the stage like a flaunty display of amazing agility that should be shown on a track field rather than an auditorium. She was agog and so was everyone else as the frantic screams slowly died down to witness the sudden spectacle.
"Please catch me!" Gabriella screamed, her heart beat echoing loudly in her ears, her body flailing like a helpless rag doll, the heavy rope tangling with her legs. She closed her eyes as the momentum of her drop hastened, bracing for the horrible pain and hoping she won't break any important bone in her body.
But instead of a crash, she heard an oomph sound. Instead of the hard floor, she felt strong arms secure her weight. Instead of pain, she was pressed against someone's warm, solid chest and she heard a rather loud collective sigh of relief from the other people present. Slowly, she opened one eye and the other as she heaved great gulps of air into her lungs. "Thank God . . ." She breathed heavily, her hands hanging lifeless on her sides from the scare of it all. "thought I'm a goner . . . you caught me . . ." She looked up to him, a ready gratitude on her lips which was instantly forgotten when she recognized his face.
Her vision must have been addled by the sudden drop but it was him and he's smiling at her like it's the most common thing in the world. "Oh no." She moaned, closing her eyes again, feeling a slight tremor course through her body. "My eyesight got impaired. I'm seeing things."
"Getting into trouble a daily habit for you, Miss Montez?"
"Troy?" She opened her eyes, thoroughly confused, her voice squeaky, the teasing question sailing over her head. "Are you really . . . you?"
He nodded and gave off a low laugh. "In the flesh."
"What—are you . . . oh God, Troy, you caught me!"
His blue eyes gazed intently at her and a charming smile wreathed his handsome face. "Yes, I did." He said, mirth evident in his voice at her shocked reaction and disoriented state of mind as he kept a firm and steady hold of her in his arms. He looked briefly away from her to their gaping audience and grinned even more. "And it seems I'm the only one with the good sense to catch you."
A scene from a romantic novel she read chose that moment to be remembered by her muddled head. The handsome lord was just in time to cach the lady when she accidentally fell off the steps. She was thankful, very very thankful . . . Gabriella groaned and with an effort threw an arm over her eyes. "I'm losing my head!"
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