Troy Bolton

* Giving genuine, heartwarming advice to those who are in need, feeling sad or angry, or whoever needs a hug

### Dislikes:

* Seeing others sad or mad
* Unable to make others smile and laugh
* Not being perfect
* Feeling worthless
* Bullying and abuse of any type
* Rudeness

### Powers / Skills:

* Basketball skills
* Charisma

## Episode Information

### First Episode Debut:

***It’s A False Happiness! In Your Face!***

### Last Episode Debut:

TBA

**Troy Bolton** is the compassionate hunk of East High School; captain of the basketball team; the boyfriend of Gabriella. He is the first person who befriends newcomer Zachary Satō; he is like a big brother to Zachary, providing love and compassion. However, Troy finds himself caught up in a series of unexpected events, even *murder*.

## **Physical Appearance**

Troy is devastatingly handsome. He has cerulean eyes, chestnut-colored hair, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, perfect eyebrows, a straight nose and full lips. He has a very athletic body and the height to match. However, Troy himself doesn't understand the attention he receives because he sees himself as "normal-looking guy with blue eyes and brown hair." Because of his beauty, he is despised by almost all the boys in school, he's lusted after by everyone else. He is described as average height at 5'8". While his height and broad shoulders cut a muscular figure, he is built like a basketball player; muscled and strong, but not excessively so -- no extra flesh on his frame. His eyes are described as bright blue, fringed with long lashes that are nearly black at the tips. Troy manages to give a classic medium-bowl haircut; his signature twist by opting for flipped ends and pushed to the side bangs. In this way, his hair looks stylish and intricate instead of old-school. Besides, those careless strands falling over his forehead make us stand in awe.

Troy’s physique is lithe, lean, and flat-muscled, with broad shoulders and long legs. He has a very athletic body and the height to match. Troy works out often and has a rather toned body, although he is too slim to have extremely protruding muscles, he is visibly very fit and healthy. Weighing in around a 165-pounds of pure body muscle.

Troy doesn’t have any preferred type of clothing. Basically, he’ll wear anything that is in style or considered to be cool and the hottest fashion. He is mostly seen in the latest fashion of wearing a shirt that seems too small. Of course, the pants hang loosely around his waist, revealing the tops of either his boxers or briefs. So, naturally when it comes to picking out what this sports-star would wear on and off the court, Troy chooses slim-cut jeans, fitted tees, and old-school sneakers, and stick to a patriotic color palette of red, white and blue.

## **Personality and Traits**

Being the face of East High, Troy carries himself with the utmost leadership on the basketball court, and thrives when he knows the crowd is watching. On the court, he is the one yelling to pump up the crowd or another player. His most prominent characteristic is his sense of teamwork and ‘togetherness’; there is no ‘being left out’ in his vocabulary. Troy practically cheers everybody on, even if they’re his competitors. He is the captain of The Wildcats because of his ability to bring people together and create group harmony, and for this he is considered the leader of the group in general. Troy is gentle and always concern about each member’s integrity. This sweet characteristic allows Troy to take great care of other members and ensure that no-one is left behind.

Troy’s insane kindness and respect towards his peers, classmates, and loved-ones is a simple action, yet has a powerful positive effect on others. He is genuinely friendly to everybody he meets. It’s the least he can do, but it is a very meaningful thing to the people who know or have met him. Spending a day with someone to cheer them up after a tragedy is an act of kindness. Troy displays his kindness by cheering-up the flamboyant newcomer Zachary, who is harassed and bullied by football players, Spencer and Isaiah. Troy is one of the best basketball players in all of Albuquerque currently, but he uses his popularity to help others. He will always make time for his loved-ones even though his time at East High is very time-consuming. In his free-time, Troy’s desire to give back causes him to visit his peers. He thinks beyond himself when visiting his peers, even in the middle of the game he is making time for Freshmen and Sophomores just because he knows it makes their day and he genuinely wants them to feel comfortable at games and *wants* to interact with them. Being the busy teenager he is, he used his rare spare-time to spend it with his friends and family, because he knows how much it means to them. Troy has partnered with other teachers to supply kids with more resources so they can have a better tomorrow.

Troy genuinely believes that there is good in *every single human-being in the world*. He empathizes with every person he meets, even those who are downright rotten and evil to the core. He is sincerely kind-hearted and friendly to a fault, seeing the good in everyone regardless of how they treat him, up to and even including trying to *murder* him.

Troy considers himself responsible for the gruesome murder of Zachary, and it hangs over, even giving him an emotional breakdown. Losing Zachary is a truly irrevocable loss for him. It affects Troy so badly that in Season 2, is *still* distraught about it, several years later.

## **Role in Season 1**

### ***It’s A False Happiness! In Your Face!***

**TO BE ANNOUNCED**

    Troy shoots a look at the timer and sees there are thirty-three seconds left on the clock, enough for West to tie it up for overtime or enough time for East to create a nice cushion for a victory win. Troy catches the pass from Jason, dribbles it down and is about to shoot when he feels himself get knocked down. He looks up at the offender and groans as he sees a player sneer down at him. Chad and Zeke rush over to Troy's side and help him up as a ref blows his whistle to indicate the foul and to give Troy his free shots. "Are you alright, man?" asks a concerned Chad, seeing Troy rub his right arm. "Did you land on it?" Chad questions.

     "Either that or it was the push I got on it from West's dear captain," mutters Troy, eyeing the rival captain with a distinct dislike in his eyes. Brushing it aside, Troy steps up to the line and makes all three shots, helping give East a much needed cushion to continue playing the game with a little more air to breath until the final buzzer goes off, declaring East High the new New Mexico State Champions. "Shoot it, Troy!" Coach Bolton screams in fury as the orange sphere connects to his fingertips releases and soars in the air. It collides with the matching rim, before it bounces off and lands in the hands of the opposing team dressed in blue and yellow. "COME ON, BOLTON! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!" Coach Bolton shouts. They are down by four points, with two minutes left in the game. "W-I-L-D, WILDCATS!" the cheerleaders, who have led the entire East High student body to the away game, scream as the crowd goes wild in delight. School spirit at East High are more than any other in New Mexico. Well, West High comes close to, but not as much as the Wildcats. "Focus, Bolton." Troy instructs himself forcefully while the opposing team in the blue-yellow jerseys take the ball down past center court. Troy's long arms attempt to block the other point-guard from shooting, but the taller of the two takes it and the ball goes into the net with a swish. They are now down by seven.

     "Time out, ref!" Coach Bolton requests angrily as the sharp whistle blows. Beads of sweat dribble down Troy's tan face as each teammate nervously steals glances from each other. Guilt is sinking in Troy's moist skin as he realizes half the reason they are down is because of him. The team huddles together around the metal chairs as a teammate lets his hard eyes stare down the captain. "Are you sick or something, Troy?" Coach Bolton asks. Troy's eyes shut in pain as he shakes his heavy head. "No, coach." he replies. "Then pick up the pace you're playing, or I'm pulling you." Coach Bolton threatens forcefully, even though both he and Troy know that on Troy's bad days, he can still run circles around their back-up point-guard, along with the rest of the team. "I got it, alright?" Troy responds determinedly. A swell of adrenaline at the action rushes through his blood stream as he nods to no-one and places his hungry fist in with the rest of the team. "WILDCATS!" Troy and the team yell. "Let's go!" Chad shouts, pumping up the visitor's section. Cheers erupt from the crowd as Troy's body is now backing into overdrive.

     A West High player throws the ball; Troy and Jason almost colliding into each other. Troy sees the ball flying across the other players heads, heading straight towards one of the cheerleaders. Hearing the cheerleader yelp, Troy outstretches his arm out, blocking the ball; his body leaping forward in front of her. The orange sphere connects with Troy's fingertips, and passes it to Chad. The handsome brunette captain quickly spins around, his eyes flooding with concern for the cheerleader, who is standing there relieved. "Are you okay?" Troy asks, his voice lacing with concern. "Y -- Yeah, thank you," the cheerleader breathes out, blinking in surprise. "You sure you're alright? Like, one-hundred percent positive?" Troy asks, his brows knit together to express his concern. "Yeah... I -- I'm sure. Thanks again," the cheerleader replies. "Hoops! Come on, man!" Chad calls-out impatiently. Troy pauses, shifting his gaze to Chad. He watches Chad’s eye movements, sees them take in the cheerleader. Troy bobs his head and says, “Yeah. Hold -- Hold on.” He then turns back to the cheerleader, a softer tone to his voice when he asks, “You're not hurt?” The cheerleader gives him a reassuring smile. Troy, in return, gives her a nod, turns his body towards the players, and walks up to the baseline.

     He can do this. Two minutes left. The ref blows the whistle again to restart the game as Chad forcefully passes Troy the orange sphere. He takes it down the court, being abruptly stopped for a second by the opposing defender, before Troy fakes right and takes it left, risking it all by taking a three-point shot, and somehow managing to get it into the net. Reluctantly, West High's team stand in line to shake East High's team's hands before the Wildcat varsity basketball team is swept up by a crowd of excited East High student body as well as family and staff. The rest of Troy's teammates are leaping up and down in joy, while continuing to scurry into position. The obnoxious sound of the buzzer rings through the gym as the entire student section stampede down the bleachers before Troy has comprehended the game is over. He suddenly can't contain his joy as he throws his arms up in the air, adrenaline still wiring through his veins, shouting at the top of his lungs. As quickly as that happened, a million and one hands seemed to be grabbing the bottom of his legs. Troy's eyes pop out of his head in surprise for a moment, before realizing they are lifting him up in the air. "BOLTON! BOLTON!" the crowd roars. Troy leans back and absorbs all the praise, shouting in victory again before the school decks out in red, gently setting him back on the hardwood floor.

     "Nice game, man!" a boy says. Troy feels a pat on the back as he turns around to see Chad standing there, grinning like he just won the lottery. Still feeling all hands wanting to touch him as though he is a god, he pulls Chad into a guy-hug. "Yeah. You didn’t suck, either," Troy says. He smirks while Chad smacks him on the back of his head. "Congrats, cutie. You were *amazing*!" a cheerleader purrs. “Oh. Thank you Tiffany, that's so kind of you,” Troy says, blushing. His eyes then move over to see Chad talking to Taylor. Troy's father then wraps his arm around his shoulder. When the large trophy passes to Troy, he raises that above his head. The screams of excitement increases as East High celebrates. Making his way through the swarm of people is harder than it appears. Every person he comes across is either cheering or congratulating him. Troy's orbs scan across the crowded gym, landing on Gabriella talking to a skinny boy. The brunette jock continues past the remaining people until he comes to the edge of the bleachers. Someone throws their arms around Troy, who breathes a sigh of relief as he hugs them tightly. He spins around to face the person, revealing to be Gabriella.

     "Congratulations, Wildcat, you were amazing! I was so nervous for you, but you were *fantastic*! I knew you would be able to do it! And when James Fletcher knocked you over that time, I thought I was going to faint! Oh, my goodness, I still don’t know how you did it. I mean you had the entire pressure of the game on you and you managed to shoot those free-throws effortlessly!" Gabriella rambles excitedly. Troy smiles lovingly, cupping her cheek with his hand and gazing into her brown eyes. "You were the one person I wanted to see after the game. I saw you, but you were talking to someone. Um, where did he go...?" Troy confesses, his eyes scanning the oversea crowd of cheering teenagers and visitors for a small, skinny boy with dark hair, but it was impossible. His blue orbs land back on Gabriella, who smiles sweetly. "Oh! You mean Zachary? Uh -- He’s new here; he’s really nice, babe. He’s coming to the championship party; I think you’ll like him," she explains. "Oh sure, anyone is welcome to the party. I’d like to meet him. Any friend of Gabriella’s is a friend of mine!" Troy says heartedly, with a genuine curiosity for this boy. "Okay, I’m going with Tay. See ya there, babe!" Gabriella responds.

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**TO BE ANNOUNCED**

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An intense ache throbs in Troy’s head. He breathes in and tightens his shut eyelids, then turns onto his side in the soft bed and presses his face harder into the pillow. High-pitched tweets from birds ring in his ears as he becomes aware of the breeze on his bare shoulder. Which is peculiar, since he can't recall opening the window before he went to bed; he can't recall anything from the night prior. Creases form in his expression as he does his best to focus on each step he'd taken the night before. But nothing surfaces. So he decides to ignore the window: his dad probably opened it anyway. With another inhale, Troy shifts onto his other side and pulls the pillow over his head. As he does, a strong whiff of raspberries fill his nostrils. The sweet scent is enough to make him want to throw-up. Then a tap echoes from somewhere in the room, as if someone put something down. It is followed by footsteps gradually getting closer. In that moment, Troy realizes the material of the bedsheets are unfamiliar: too silky and new to be the ones he'd usually wake up to... His eyes shoots open. He flings the pillow off his head, then sits up and his focus darts around the room he would swear he'd never seen before in his life. It is fairly big and almost too empty to feel lived in. The double bed he'd slept in is centered on the back wall -- the window that'd bothered him to his right. But in the middle of the room, stands his mother: staring like a deer-in-headlights. “Troy?” her smooth voice floods his fantasy before the lids that covered the ceruleans eyes flutter in a haze. At first, he is blinded by the bright sunshine that stretches across the edges of the grey-toned bedspread. His heavy lids blink a couple times before he finally focuses on his mother. Her slightly pale soft face holds compassion in the dark grey eyes. “Sweetie... it’s almost seven.” she whispers gently. The woman gently leans down to press her smooth lips against his clammy forehead. “It... it is?” Troy stumbles over his words just as he glances at the high-tech alarm clock that also plays his iPod when he woke up each morning. She's right. The screen glows a sea-colored blue, **6:54 A.M.** School starts in a little over an hour. “Come on, I have breakfast ready... French toast. Your favorite,” Lucille sings in her soothing voice with a warm smile that would fill up any room. “Thanks, mama. I’ll be down in a minute.” Troy promises before the woman gives him another comforting smile. “Don’t fall back asleep again, okay?” she laughs before stepping over the heaps of clothing that is piled in the center of the white room, his dirty laundry. Troy attempts at a smile before his mother slowly closes the door. Letting out a sigh, Troy jumps out of his queen-sized bed and strides across the snow-colored carpet through the gigantic room, to reach his black dresser. He smiles at the thought of his parents before he subconsciously reaches for the glinting gold pendent on his neck. After taking a soothing shower to calm his nerves, Troy jumps down the last stair in a v-neck, white t-shirt and jeans that hang low enough to see his navy boxers, to land gracefully on the wooded linoleum. He slowly jogs to the kitchen to see his father reading the newspaper. His careful fingers drums against the table gently, before his caramel eyes glances up, at the same time as his bright teeth glinting in the light. “Morning, Troy.” he greets warmly. “Hey dad,” Troy smiles happily before taking two steps at a time to meet the inviting smell of French toast at the counter. He doesn't even bother to grab a plate or the syrup and butter that are set-out for his father. Troy is a picky eater, and it used to drive his mother up the wall when he was younger. But he is just one of those people who only has cheese on his cheeseburgers and just sausage on his pizza. He had a select taste. “Holy crap... it’s sunny!” Troy jokes after a few moments of comfortable silence as Jack's deep laugh fills the room. “Yeah... it’s a shocker, isn’t it?” he flips the newspaper over before standing slowly, towering over Troy by a good three-inches. “I gotta head to the school... just make sure your skin doesn’t burn in the sunlight, alright?” Jack teases before pressing his tender lips to his wife's forehead, who is sitting at the table as well with a *Good Housekeeping* in front of her. “You make me sound nocturnal or something.” the eighteen-year-old brunette muses, before shoving the last bit of golden toast in his mouth before his mother rolls her eyes. “If you don’t clean your room soon... you’ll get as much daylight as someone nocturnal,” she says. Troy does his best not to scowl at her threat to ground him. So instead, he smoothly grips the backpack lying on the floor and slings it over his tough back. He gently leans over the light-wooded table to kiss his mother’s cheek, before catching up with his father to walk out with him. “Yeah, yeah... I’ll clean it. See ya, mama!” Troy calls-out. He grabs his school bag and heads for the front door. He grabs his red and white varsity jacket. His shoes is the last thing to go on. “See you at school, dad!” Troy calls-out before he exits his house. He hops into the driver’s seat of his 1962 Ford F-250 Flareside truck.

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Although Troy can see people filing into the building, the courtyard is still fairly populated. He’s always in a good mood, especially after a successful game and the subsequent weekend-long celebration, but today something’s different. It may have something to do with the fact that his last year of school is almost over, or with his essay for the scholarship, or maybe, just maybe, with the Prom, that’s only a couple of weeks away. As he struts through the halls headed in the direction of his locker, a blinding grin on his face, and a hand combing his perfectly coiffed hair, the other students turn and stare at him, a couple sigh, too, before going back to their previous activities. They’re used to Troy being attractive and walking down the halls as if he owned the school. Nobody cares, though, because he’s a great guy. Despite being a jock, he’s a *nice* one, and if he doesn’t actively stop the others from picking on nerds and freaks, he usually tries to make it up to them with an apologetic smile or a kind word. He’s not incredibly talented, academically, but he doesn’t accept special favors for being the star of the basketball team either. He’s confident, but not arrogant. As a general rule, is difficult not to like him. Just as he walks in, the voice of Principal Matsui can be overheard on the intercom: ***"All attending prom dates not from East High must be registered for approval. No exceptions."*** The first person he sees is Gabriella Montez, the most academically-gifted person at East High, who immediately engrosses him in a discussion of high importance... namely, her outfit for the Prom. But then again, she’s the girlfriend of the basketball team captain, so her outfit is not to be taken lightly. "Lookin’ good, Wildcat." Gabriella greets him with her usual body-check and huge hug. Troy sweeps her up into his arms before planting her down. "We still going shopping later?" Gabriella asks as soon immediately, turning huge hopeful eyes on Troy. "Because I really need your help to find something appropriate, and all the other girls want to go basically naked." Troy leans over and steals a peek at the outfits on display in Gabriella's catalogue. "For the sake of human-kind everywhere, yes. We need to get you into something short, black and slinky." Gabriella scowls and Troy quickly adds, "Slinky! I said slinky not sleazy...although considering a certain someone’s taste..." "That certain *someone* is my boyfriend you’re talking about, mister." Gabriella fumes, waggling her finger under Troy’s nose. "And yet you still refuse to seek treatment." Troy grins and ducks as Gabriella aims for his head with her schoolbag. Troy suddenly starts hearing the whispers of the current gossip around him. Ignoring his gossiping peers, he and Gabriella walk down towards Darbus’s homeroom while Troy keeps an open ear to the talk. "Can you believe it? He's such a trouble-maker!" "I know right, he gave *Troy Bolton* a *lap dance* in front of both East *and* West High!" "Obvi, that is true. We were all there, girl! I heard he got in trouble by giving the entire basketball team an *STD* at West High!" "He looks so sweet and innocent, though?" "I heard he got kicked out of West High for having sex with his English teacher. Scandalous!" "I heard he was expelled for smoking and drinking at their homecoming." "He looks like a popular-wannabe." "Ugh, what an attention-seeker!" "He's thirsting over all the guys. What a slut. Better watch out Gabriella, he will steal her man." "Is it true he gave *our* Troy Bolton a *blow-job during* the game?" "Didn't he go down on the Sex Town Express on Troy in front of everyone Friday night before Troy's house party?" "Did you hear? Zachary Satō transferred to East High!" That final tidbit sets off alarm bells in Troy's head as he whips around to see a junior girl talking to some of her friends. Troy's eyes dart around, seeing his peers laugh snidely and chit-chat with their friends as if nothing happened.

     Following his gut instinct, Troy calmly strolls up to two nearby girls who have their backs against the row of lockers -- a blonde and a curly redhead with freckles. The two girls immediately stop chattering and freeze at Troy's presence; their eyes wide. Troy offers them a soft smile. "Uh, hey, Amber..." he greets casually to the dirty-blonde girl. He then makes eye-contact with Amber's friend. "...Nora." he greets with a nod to the redhead. The two girls nervously stand there. "Oh, hello, Troy... Are you lost, or something? And there I had thought you were too good to be true. Oh, well, we can work on that," Amber purrs, her fingers flirtatiously twirling in her long blond hair. "Actually, Amber, Gabriella is waiting for me. Uhm, when you two have a minute, I’d like to talk to you about something. No rush," Troy says, completely unfazed by Amber's attempt at flirting. "There’s no rush! Um... what’s up?" Nora asks quickly. "Oh, okay. So, yeah, uhhh... there’s, uh, rumors floating around about Zachary Satō...? A bunch of rumors, actually, and I was just wondering... Did you hear anything? I mean, if the two of you heard anything at all, you know, then you can tell me before it gets out of hand. I just don’t want to see a new student, you know, feeling distraught on their first day here..." Troy requests gently. He stands directly in front of the two girls, but not so close that he's in their faces. He looks at both of them in the eye, composing his facial expression from appearing angry or threatening. His goal here is not to intimidate or scare them, but just to get the truth. "...Yes, well, uh, we heard some of the rumors, and it’s totally all false, you know? I mean, you know how rumors are, Troy. They’re always false, and we were the cause." Nora says in one breath. Amber darts her eyes to her friend, glaring. "You stupid fuck, why would you say that?" she hisses venomously. "What? It’s true." Nora confesses innocently, her gaze not even daring to look at her friend's. Even if they did spread nasty things about someone, Troy considers what they *actually* meant. They may have been misinterpreted or they may have said something off-the-cuff without meaning anything nasty. Sometimes, things just come across the wrong way. In this case, Troy wants to cut the girls some slack. "Ladies, there’s no need to be cruel. What were you hoping to accomplish? Why did you think that person needed to hear that? What if or *if* Zachary *had* found-out about the lies already, it can damaged his reputation already. How would you girls feel, if that happened to you, hm? You could have helped him, showed him around, been his friend." Troy states a little sternly, but his face still remaining calm as ever. The redhead guiltily shifts her gaze, her green eyes shifting towards the ground rather than at Troy’s eyes. "I’m sorry, Troy." Nora softly says. Troy nods in reply.

     To Troy, she sounds genuinely apologetic in her behavior, which is a good sign. Amber, on the other hand, stands there, her hands on her hips -- her demeanor -- abrasive and snooty. Her jaw clenches. "Nah, it was way too much fun to psychologically hurt the new kid, because why not?" Amber says, disgustingly. Troy takes a quick glance at Nora, and sees her visibly horrified and cringing at Amber's sadistic pleasure. Upon hearing an angry female voice from behind, his attention darts to Gabriella, who is stomping towards the four. "Amber, you better apologize for your disgusting--" her voice chimes in. Even before she could finish her sentence, Troy swiftly takes a step to his left, putting his body between the two girls. "Oh, what? What, Little Miss Thing? You wanna go? Let’s go; I will beat your ass!" Amber spits out, throwing her hands up aggressively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, easy. Let’s all calm down; talk things out. Okay? Let’s use our words. Communicate. No need for violence, okay? Gabriella, sweetheart, let’s take a deep breath together. Hmm?" Troy soothes to his girlfriend, who is exhaling deeply in anger. Gabriella closes her eyes shut. "Alright, inhale then exhale. One... two... three." Troy instructs calmly. Gabriella inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth. After exhaling, Gabriella flutters her eyelids open as Troy smiles warmly at her. "Good job. Baby, you can go to Darbus’s class, alright? I’ll meet you there." Troy tells her. Gabriella walks away with an apologetic smile, and a quick peck on the lips. Troy takes one last look at Gabriella, feeling guilty for what just happened to her, before he turns his attention back to Amber. "Yeah, listen to your boyfriend, bitch!" Amber calls out. "What makes her that, Amber? I don’t see a single thing about her that qualifies her for that undignified title. Think about what you’re doing; do you really want to face the consequences of a fight? Gabriella is my *girlfriend*." Troy states strongly, crossing his arms across his chest. In response, Amber scoffs. "Look, Amber, you’re not being really nice, alright? Please, this is someone’s reputation on the line. Do you understand? He’s young, and he has years left to survive at this school. It’ll save you a lot of trouble if you be kind to everyone, trust me. An attack on him is an attack on me. The last thing Zachary needs is rumors spreading around. And, don’t mess with Gabriella. If you wanna mess with someone, mess with me." Troy states strongly. "Oh, I will. And, newsflash: it’s a free country! I can do whatever I want, Troy, because I can. Now if you'll *excuse* us, we'll be going to class now," Amber huffs as her shoulder harshly collides into Troy's, causing to Troy to somewhat stumble back from the impact. Nora follows suit, shamelessly of her actions. Troy watches them saunter down the hallway, and deeply sighs. The warning bell rings so Troy makes his way into the homeroom. Troy plops into the chair he had last year assigned to him and twists around in his seat so he can catch a quick glance at Gabriella. Chad takes a quick seat in his assigned desk. "Hey dude, what's up," greets Chad, not really realizing until there is complete silence from his best friend that he doesn't have Troy's attention. The bell to start their day rings and Miss Darbus gets up from her desk to stand in front of everyone. "Good morning, my young students! Hopefully you all had a wonderful weekend full of learning and expressing yourselves! Mr. Bolton, do you have something you'd like to share with the class? You seem to be deep in thought and not looking towards the front of the class," said Miss Darbus, staring at the brown-haired boy. Chad discreetly pokes Troy in the side, startling Troy to attention. "I'm sorry, what?" Miss Darbus just shakes her head. "I see that some of you are still adjusting to being back to school. I will let your lack of attention slide for today, Mr. Bolton, but do not let it happen again," states Miss Darbus before she starts in on announcements. She finishes a few minutes earlier than the scheduled bell so she leaves them free to talk while she takes attendance. Troy is faced towards the door, with Gabriella standing in front of him. His eyes leave hers as they suddenly narrow with curiosity. Standing at the door is the one and only Zachary Satō. He walks into the room, strutting with the confidence of a model. He is donned in a white shirt, with black jeans and those black leather Chelsea boots -- those same high-heeled boots from Friday's game. "Excuse me, are you Miss Darbus?" Zachary asks. Miss Darbus snaps her head to the sound of her name, and grins. "Why, yes, young thespian, I am Miss Darbus. And may I ask, who are you?" she greets, her hand movements dramatically flailing around. "Zachary Satō, I'm new here." Zachary replies. "Ah, yes! Mr. Matsui told me I would be having a new student. Well, Zachary, welcome to East High, and welcome to homeroom! Everybody, attention!" she announces loudly, clapping her hands in the process. Homeroom goes quiet as the chatter of the students die down; their attention now on Miss Darbus. "Everybody, please welcome Zachary Satō. He is a new student here from West High. Please be nice to him, it's his first day. Alright?" she announces with a wide smile.

     Zachary nods his head. Once the clapping dies down, Zachary's eyes meet with Troy's. In response, the brunette smiles. "Well, Zachary, um, you can go sit next to Miss Gabriella Montez in the back row. Gabriella?" Miss Darbus states. "Hi, Zachary!" Gabriella greets kindly, raising her hand up so Zachary could spot who she was. "Thank you," Zachary says softly to Miss Darbus. With that, the Asian boy walks towards the empty desk placed next to Gabriella. Troy's head turns once Zachary walks past him, as well as his other peers. Some whisper indistinctly around him. "Dude, you need to snap back into the present. You okay? Troy," commands Chad as he sees Troy spacing out again, looking in the direction of Gabriella. "Huh? Sorry Chad, the rumor mill is already spreading like wildfire with the new kid. I'm just worried about his mental-health," explains Troy, looking back at Chad. Chad stares back at his best friend and sees the worry in those blue eyes. "Hoops, ignore the gossip, like you always do. People are just bored with their own lame lives. Don't worry about it," Chad states. Troy shakes his head. "I had absolutely no clue until I started hearing stupid rumors flying around about him already. I guess his reputation has proceeded his arrival here or something. No-one seems to know the real truth, guess it helped that he hasn't revealed anything since he seems so... confident." Troy says. "Why does it seem like I may be closer to the kid than you then?" responds Chad. "That's what I'm trying to figure out," returns Troy, still confused by the events of this morning. The bell rings, interrupting any further conversation at their desks.

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Sliding his eyes over the others waiting in line, Troy lingers over to the Asian boy standing next to him. Suddenly, he turns towards Troy’s direction as he anxiously waits. He sees out of his peripheral vision the boy trying to breathe normally. He glances directly at Troy.

     “Zachary--” Troy whispers scandalously. “Yeah?” Zachary replies. “Are you alright, man?” Troy asks. The boy appears to be hesitating as he stares at Troy, but eventually he gives a slight smile. He doesn’t fully answer, but Troy takes that smile as a yes. Troy makes a grunt of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy question as nerves in good strides. “Are you gonna get a lot of food?” he asks as he extends his hand out towards the buffet of food. The boy stares at it. Troy's arm slaps back down to the side of his hip. “You’re not very talkative, are you? That’s okay, though. My friends always tell me I’m a chatter-box! I hope I’m not chatting your head off?” Troy shares all in one breath, asking the last bit with a slight hesitation. “N -- No, it’s okay,” Zachary says hastily. He gazes around the cafeteria. “Y -- You’re on a poster?” he inquires, his eyes fixating with amazement somewhere. Troy is far too busy looking at the food that he hardly even notices the poster on the other side of the room. He turns around to face it, then looks back to Zachary; a valiant yet sheepish smile on his face. He rubs the back of his neck, looking speechless.

     “Uhhh, I guess so. I’m just a normal guy,” Troy admits, chuckling. He brushes it off casually, turning his head back to the direction of the food, admiring it all. “Hello,” a husky voice greets. Troy only looks up with a friendly smile on his face when he sees Spencer Wallace. He towers over Troy by at least a half-foot. Troy notices the much skinnier boy trying his best to place a smile on his face. The blond-haired boy extends a big, veiny hand to Troy. “Hey, Wallace. What brings you here?” Troy asks casually. “Hey, man, nothing much. Rumor is, there’s a new kid on the block. Apparently, he’s a faggot. *Ohhh*...” the blonde responds lamely, his focus shifting towards the Asian boy. For being tied for the most popular guy in school with Troy himself, one would think that Spencer Wallace and Troy Bolton would be best friends. Well, that isn’t true. It isn’t like they hated each other. Most of the jocks are sort of stuck together, so they’re invited to the same house parties. They talk often, but there’s always some sort of unknown wedge between them that refuses to allow them to be extremely close friends. They’re just... there. Troy keeps darting his eyes back and forth from the new kid to the blonde. “Hey, now...” Troy scolds, glaring in the direction of the male. He moves from where Zachary is standing, and says quietly, “Come on. Is that really necessary, man?” The more muscular teen glares, ruining Troy’s bravado when he automatically steps back. Troy looks at the blonde, who’s eyes are now slits with a wide sinister grin plastered on his face, while nodding slowly. Troy forces himself to swallow as his throat’s now unbelievably dry.

     “You got a crazy look in your eye. And it’s really freaking me out, right now...” Troy accuses gently as his eyes widen. “What is it to you, *pretty boy*? What are you going to do about it?” Spencer spits out as his evil grin immediately disappears. He puffs out his chest, taking a dangerous step towards Troy. The cafeteria becomes all quiet. Everyone’s looking and waiting for Troy’s move. Everybody probably thinks that Troy’s just asking for trouble; everybody knows that Spencer Wallace is a bully with a short temperament. But Troy’s no fool. Nor coward. “What am I gonna do?” Troy asks cheekily, with a small grin on plastered on his pretty face. “Yeah. Whatcha gonna *do* about it, Bolton?” Spencer challenges. His eyes linger over to Zachary, then downwards. “Can I see your ball, man?” he asks. “Sure. Hope and dream, dude.” Troy says; the blonde taking it from his hands. Spencer turns on his heel, humming. “Heads up!” he suddenly yells as he directly throws the orange sphere at Troy. But to his surprise, in a blink of an eye, the brunette catches it, gripping the circular sphere with the palm of his right hand, pressing his fingertips into it. Palming the round basketball, Troy lowers it and his eyes shoot back at Spencer, challengingly. “It’s not how big you are; it’s how big you play in it to win it, Wallace.” Troy says. “Give me the ball back, *bitch*.” Spencer sneers. Chad then took a step closer towards the blonde. “Enjoy the rest of your day, man. By the way, the ball is mine.” Troy states, before the embarrassed Spencer angrily storms off with a defeated scoff. With that, Troy carelessly puts the ball to the side of his hip, and lets out a sigh. His eyes lock on Zachary, who looks at him with amazement and shock.

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**REST IS TO BE ANNOUNCED**

### ***I See Something Red***

Troy drives up to West High just as the morning bell rings for the day. He gets out of his truck with his sunglasses on and walks over to the school's front entrance doors, observing all the students pouring inside the building. He takes off his sunglasses and puts them in front of his shirt. The front office is full of people and it’s only 8:00 a.m.; a mix of teachers and other students.

     “Good morning. I'm here for Zachary Satō.” Troy answers. The bell chimes ear-bleedingly throughout the corridors and the classroom doors swing open, releasing loud banter of conversations as the teenagers pour through the doorways. Troy catches a glimpse of Zachary's face. In the much-crowded corridor, Troy tries his very best to not loose sight of Zachary. “ZACHARY!” Troy calls-out, amongst the laughter and chatter of students. Seeing a police officer talking to two teens, Troy's eyes widen. The stern-looking cop notices Troy confusingly staring at him. “What are you looking at, punk?” he questions, quite aggressively. Troy immediately raises his hands in defense. A couple of tall, broad boys in blue football jerseys aggressively shove Troy against each other. Troy feels his shoulder and back collide hard against their bodies. A third jock then shoves Troy out of the way, almost causing him to slam head-first into a couple students walking in front of him. Luckily, Troy catches his balance and steadies himself before slamming into the two. “You guys alright?” he asks. The two students in front of him ignore his presence, and walk past him.

     After passing a row of lockers, a wooden door bursts open, causing it to whack Troy in the shoulder. The impact causes Troy to take a step back, revealing a girl on the other side, who looks at him worryingly. “Oh sorry!” she apologizes quickly. Troy outstretches his arm at the girl. “Are you okay?” Troy asks, sincere care in his tone for the *girl*. She doesn't respond, as she is now farther away from him. Troy looks back, nodding to himself, assuming the girl is okay, and completely *neglecting* the sharp pain of his own shoulder.

     Troy continues to scan the now thinned-out crowd, hoping to see East High's newcomer among them. He runs into the nearest bathroom and goes straight to the sinks, planting his hand on either side of one and taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He's not sure why he's so shaken. He hears the soft crying coming from a cubicle. His muscles stiffen and he turns around to stare at the locked door, silent. Maybe the person hears the movement, because the crying stops abruptly and quietens down to sniffling. “Hello?” Troy says hesitantly. “Are... are you okay?” “Yes,” comes a voice that definitely isn't. Troy is next to sure this is Zachary. “I don't think you are,” he ventures. “I am,” the voice replies, though it's trembling. “You can go.” Troy thinks, fuck that, and goes into the cubicle next to Zachary's. He gets up on the toilet and pulls himself over to land in Zachary's cubicle. Zachary yelps as he lands next to him, then quickly turns away. For a minute, Troy doesn't do anything but stare. The boy is currently less than a meter away from him. Troy looks at the Asian boy, and the only word Troy can think of is broken. He feels protective over the fragile-looking boy all of a sudden. He's the only one in this world who knows what Zachary's going to do, and there's no way he's not going to do something about it. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't feeling the awkwardness of the situation; he barely knows this kid and here he is being his personal shoulder to cry on. In spite of all this, he can't deny this boy his help, the moment he saw Zachary crying, Troy knows if he didn't assist him, he would be all alone and if Troy was taught one thing as a child, it was that no-one deserves to be alone. “May I come a little closer?” Troy thinks it will be a good idea to make sure first as not to startle the seemingly anxious and likely distressed younger that sat on the floor. Receiving no answer to his question Troy decides to try his luck and takes a tentative step forward, making sure to keep a close watch on Zachary for any sort of reaction.

     Slowly, he approaches the floor, keeping his eyes constantly trained on Zachary’s, checking for even the slightest sign of discomfort at his advances. It’s important to be overly cautious toward the boy as he is most likely in an overly sensitive state and Troy doesn’t know what might trigger him. But Zachary’s dark eyes simply continue to follow him with their gaze. As Troy slowly reaches the side of Zachary, he decides to try an ask some questions as to try and gain a better understanding of Zachary’s mental state. “How are you feeling?” Zachary continues to gaze at him unmovingly and ignores the question. Troy decides to try reach for Zachary’s hand, wondering if perhaps physical contact would spark a response. Troy keeps his movements slow and deliberate as not to startle the anxious boy and reaches out for his hand. But as his hand begins to near Zachary’s, the younger pulls his own away. It’s the first movement he’s made since Troy has entered the bathroom. Troy pauses to look Zachary in the eye, checking for any signs of further panic or emotional discomfort. He is a little surprised to see Zachary’s arm reaching out towards him, his gaze fixed just above Troy’s eyebrows, seemingly towards the mop of brown hair that hangs about his forehead. Puzzled yet amused, Troy lowers himself onto the edge of the wall, putting himself within reach of the boy’s outstretched hand. It’s a strange gesture, almost child-like. Troy lets out a surprised chuckle as Zachary’s hand reaches up to his head, latching itself onto a tuft of brown hair. Troy remains silent, watching in amusement as Zachary’s fingers lace through the strand of hair he held in his hand. Troy uses the distraction as an opportunity to study the emotions playing out across Zachary’s face. All prior panic and distress seems to have dissolved, now replaced utmost fascination and a glowing sense of childish curiosity. Zachary seems completely captivated as he twirls the silken lock between his fingers, marveling at the color shifting in the light. “Zach?” Zachary’s eyes dart upwards. “May I call you Zach for short?” After a lengthy pause in which Zachary seems to contemplate this question rather thoroughly, he nods ever so slightly. Troy smiles, relieved that Zachary is beginning to trust him. As Zachary continues to play with the basketball captain’s hair, Troy decides to pose another question, “Do want to tell me why you were so upset?” Zachary’s grip on the hair slackens and he stares down at his knees, silence filling the room. Troy is beginning to think he can’t answer, but he does. Not verbally but the meaning is clear. With a pained expression, Zachary lifts his arm and gestures meekly toward his legs. Troy sighs, expression saddening. “Zach?” He continues gazing at his numb legs, a tear slipping from his cheek and landing on the tiled floor, soaking into the cracks. Troy doesn’t want to beat around the bush, so, despite his reluctance, he says it straight. With a heavy, somewhat fearful sigh he speaks, “You’re anxious about East High.” Troy's heart breaks a little as he says it, it’s always hard delivering this sort of news and to see the responses of shy freshmen or newcomers. He tries his best to speak slowly and softly, but the weight of the previous statement was no less impactful. Zachary freezes for a moment. His gleaming eyes once more wells-up. His grip goes slack and he subconsciously releases the strand of Troy’s hair he's been clutching, hand falling into his lap. The terror rushes back in an instant, eyes brimming over once more as tears begin to spill. Salty streaks slide steadily down his cheeks and proceeds to drip from his quivering chin. Before long Zachary is bawling, utter despair manifesting itself in his chest making him sputter and choke as he continues to fall apart. Zachary’s breath speeds up and his throat constricts, tightening until he has to gasp for air. “Shh, I’m sorry. You’re okay now,” Troy tries reassuring him, voice barely reaching above a tentative whisper as he tries not to frighten the hysterical boy any further. Tentatively he leans forward a little, hand reaching out toward a trembling Zachary in attempt to sooth his anxiety. Zachary has started to frantically claw at the skin on his knuckles, digging his nails into the flesh until the skin begins to tear from the pressure. Troy reaches for his bony trembling hand, pulling them apart and placing them between his own to stop Zachary’s attempts at hurting himself. As Troy’s hands find his own, Zachary tilts his body forward, letting his head rest gently against Troy’s chest, leaning into the brunette sitting on his right. Zachary’s hand latches onto the fabric of Troy’s leather jacket and proceeds to bury his tear-stained face into the soft fabric of his white t-shirt. Zachary draws in a shaky breath. His sobs subside until he’s quivering silently in Troy’s arms, only occasionally letting out a stifled whimper.

     At first Troy doesn’t notice this but as he brings his arms around Zachary’s trembling back to embrace him, he hears the soft suckling sound accompanied by little sniffles. Confused, Troy draws his head back just a little to see what’s making the sounds and, needless to say, is a little surprised to see Zachary, thumb in mouth, sucking like a baby would a pacifier. Troy has dealt with a lot shy, *very* anxious newcomers and many of them had developed different ways and behaviors to help them cope with the anxiousness of whatever they had been feeling but never had he come across something like this. They sit like that until Zachary falls asleep; Troy gently rocking him as Zachary continues to suck subconsciously at his thumb. Once his breath evens out and Troy is sure that the boy had fallen asleep and releases him from his embrace and gently puts his head back against the tiled wall. He sits for another minute or so, musing over his thoughts and watching Zachary now peacefully sleeping, thumb still stuck between his lips.

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The lobby is full of people and it was only 9 a.m., a mix of students and teachers, he guesses. He walks over to the receptionist. “Good morning. How may I help you?” she asks. “Good morning, ma’am. So, um, a friend of mine by the name of Zachary Satō did not come to school yet, and he’s never late. So I, uh, I -- I was wondering if you could possibly check-up on him for me? I’m a little worried,” Troy says, smiling nervously at her. “One moment.” She gives him the once-over with a not exactly nice look on her face, a look full of judgment. She raises her eyebrow before turning to her computer and checking Zachary’s name against the system. Troy keeps the smile on his face even after the look he received. The receptionist turns back to Troy, the sour look still on her face. “Yeahhh... Is there anything else I can do for you?” the receptionist asks in a fake friendly manner. Troy tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Um... What do you mean, ma’am? Did -- Did you check his name in the system?” he asks politely. “Uh, your friend called in sick today... Anything else I can help you with?” the receptionist questions. Troy responds with a half-hearted smile. Troy hoists his backpack up to his shoulder. He pauses for a moment in the school corridor to take in his surroundings but does not see Zachary. Zachary, his new friend, hasn't contacted him since last night: no texts, no calls, no Facebook posts. Coming from someone else, Troy wouldn't have really thought about it much, but coming from Zachary, it's bizarre. Majorly bizarre. Zachary always has his phone with him. Literally. From what Troy assumes about him anyways however is that, wherever Zachary went, his phone goes with him. He would either be texting Troy and the gang about East High or asking giving tips about fashion, just being innocent and curious about their lives. So, the fact that Zachary hasn't texted him since last night has Troy, worried. Maybe he’s at a doctor’s appointment. Troy nods to himself; yeah he's probably at a doctor’s appointment. Pulling out his cell-phone, Troy dials Zachary’s number. He brings the phone up next to his ear. “*Hi, you’ve reached Zachary Satō. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you. Bye.*” the voicemail says awkwardly. “Hey, Zachary, it’s Troy. The gang and I are just wondering where you are, buddy. We’re very worried about you. Call me when you get this. Thanks. Bye.” Troy says. He shuts off his phone, squeezing it tightly in his hand as he exhales.

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Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick... The same sound repeats over and over and over, it’s a never-ending sound in the small empty room. It’s a dark room, the only light comes from the small lamp sitting on the desk in front of the young eighteen-year-old boy. Troy sits there alone for about an hour. His head’s killing him, he hardly remember what’s going on or where exactly he is. All he knows is that something happened and he’s to blame. He stares down at his hands that are tied together by handcuffs when he hears murmuring coming from behind the gray steel door in front of him. His head quickly shoots up when an older man in his forties walks in, closing the door quietly behind him with a tan folder in his hands. “Troy Bolton?” he asks, making sure he’s with the correct person. Troy nods slowly, eyeing the man up and down several times. He’s wearing a black suit, his hair blond, and a *Grande Complication* watch wrapped around his left wrist. The brunette teen watches the man slowly slip into the seat across from him. “I’m Ethan Woods, I work here.” the man answers. “And you’re the interrogator?” Troy asks, shaking his head. “That is correct.” the man replies back. “With all due respect, sir, but you seem too nice to be an interrogator. I, uh, got a, uh, short video footage of his... body.” Troy states, trying not to choke on his words. Ethan carefully places the folder he’s holding onto the desk between them, opening it up slowly as Troy watches him curiously. The interrogator pulls out a small photo out from the folder and carefully places it in front of the brunette. “I want you to look at this photo. I have to warn you, Troy, it's quite gruesome.” Ethan demands softly. Troy shakes his head as an answer while he stares down at the picture. The photograph in front of him has been taken a few hours ago. In the shot, Zachary is slumped against a wall in an alleyway. His attention is directly at the camera, looking into Troy’s soul, sitting broken in a puddle of red; blood pooling beneath him. Glossy chocolate-brown eyes staring upward, pupils dilated with deadened fright. Troy can’t shake his initial feeling upon studying his now-deceased friend. He observes each lash and cut that had been etched so neatly into his friend's skin. Crimson thickly trickling from his plump lips, mixing with saliva as it fell to join the growing trail on his chest. The fabric of his shirt clung tightly to his skin, a soft diluted pink as it dampened with blood; seeing the blood soaking his shirt red and the guts hanging out of his opened chest. A horrifying sight. “*Oh my God*...” Troy stops himself from going any more further, putting a hand over his mouth in complete shock and horror. He hears a ding from his phone, and he opens it back up. Troy’s breathing hitches and his heart rate speeds up. He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he doesn’t know what to do. His breathing becomes erratic as his blue eyes observes the scene over and over, trying to wrap his brain around it. Troy staggers back until he hits the wall. He slides down the wall, placing his head between his knees. It's real. *Zachary Satō has been brutally slaughtered.* He died without warning. He's *gone*. Troy feels his heart breaking. From the little time they've known each other, he loved Zachary like a little brother. His heart aches, it hurts so badly. Troy is filled with so many different emotions that he isn’t sure how to sort them all out. He's confused. He now knows why Zachary didn't show up at the restaurant. He feels anger. He feels a harsh pain, far worse than any injury he’d ever received. An injury hurt for a few days, a few weeks at most, but this pain in his heart feels like it will never go away, like he can never be fixed. He feels despair. As the pain runs through his blood there's a sadness that goes along with it. He can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he will never see his friend alive again. Never be able to hang-out with Zachary again, to hear Zachary laugh, to see Zachary smile, to see Zachary grow into a confident person, to see Zachary graduate high-school. Those thoughts are what makes him crumble. Troy’s whole body begins to shake and his face twitches as he tries to hold himself together. The pain and despair is becoming too much, he needs a release. He feels hot tears roll down his face and tries to stop them from coming by, closing his eyes tightly and letting his chin drop. It’s then that Troy realizes he isn’t breathing. He’s been so consumed in his thoughts, he’s forgotten to breathe. He inhales deeply, but when he exhales his breath’s shaking. He clamps his lips shut again, trying desperately to hold himself together. He opens his eyes again and looks up the ceiling. He can’t hold himself together any longer. He’s breaking. “Zachary’s parents told us that you were a friend of his. I need to ask you a few questions about your relationship. That okay?” Ethan requests softly. “I -- I’m confused, have you contacted his parents? Are they in the waiting-room? Do you know who could’ve done this to him?” Troy asks, his voice cracking a tiny bit, displaying genuine concern for his friend’s parents. Ethan sighs, taking the photo back, slipping it into the folder. “Yes, they're in the waiting-room right now. So, uhhh, have you talked to Zachary or seen him prior to his death? Like, did he ever hang-out with you and your friends before? Maybe you can tell me something about that?” Ethan requests gently. Troy’s eyes fill with tears of devastation. “Yes. Uhm, he was... with my friends and I yesterday. Because we were at school. He wanted to surprise us by going to like a fancy restaurant that night. He had texted us, letting us all know that. He wanted to show us his gratitude by doing that. He didn't have to, but he was really generous. He was really innocent and sweet. Very shy, but a free-spirit too.” the eighteen-year-old chokes out, shaking his head repeatedly. “I -- We were at schooI with him. Having a good time, you know? We talked about life, my friends and I helping him with his self-confidence. Zachary was a really sweet kid, sir. He wouldn't harm a fly. He can’t be dead... He can’t be.” Troy says. “Do you know how long Zachary and his parents lived here?” the interrogator questions. “Um, four days. They just moved here from Hawaii.” Troy answers. “Someone reported hearing screaming at the time of Zachary's attack. The police arrived around... thirty minutes later.” Ethan reports calmly. Before Troy can respond, the gray steel door in front of him swings open, revealing two police officers posting a picture of a cheerful, smiling Zachary up on the bulletin board and in big red, bold letters over the picture, **'REWARD'** was written. Underneath the picture, all of Zachary’s information.