Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N Set after both movies. Oh and I'm British and my knowledge of the American school system is very limited so please excuse mistakes.
Warning: Eventual slash and an evil Gabriella.
Secrets.
Accusations.
"Are you the one putting all the bruises on your sons arms?"
Coach Bolton felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach, closely followed by his lower jaw as he stared up at the drama teacher in shock. Finally he recovered enough of his wits to react.
"What?" he demanded, his voice little more than a hiss.
"I said are you the one putting all the bruises on your sons arms?!"
The theatrical teachers voice rose in both pitch and volume, her cheeks burning an angry red colour as she glared down at him.
"No!" he cried out immediately, jumping up from his feet so that he towered over the teacher issuing the accusation against him. "No – I would never…how dare you come into my office and accuse me of…of hurting my son?! What give you the right to–"
"Your sons arms are covered in bruises, bruises which cannot possibly have been acquired whilst playing basketball," Mrs Darbus explained, her voice tight with anger as she continued to glare up at the man she had previously trusted and respected. "Not to mention the fact that during last weeks costume fitting he all but refused to allow anyone near him and spent most of his time fussing with his shirt so that it showed as little skin as possible."
"How would you know what bruises can and cannot be explained by basketball?" Coach Bolton demanded angrily even as his mind took him back to the last time he had really looked at his sons arms…there hadn't been any odd bruises…had there?
"Well how else would you explain pinch marks on the inside of his wrists and elbows? Not to mention the scratches…"
"…scratches?" he asked, his voice beginning to tremble slightly. "Why…"
"Are you saying that you are not the one holding your son's arms so tight that he bruises? That you aren't the one digging your nails in to get some point across? What is it? Doesn't he play your silly little game well enough?!"
"How dare you?! How…I would never…fuc–"
"C-Coach?"
The startled voice of one of his basketball players drew their attention to the door where a group of player had gathered, all of them obviously drawn by the explosive argument unfolding inside the small room.
"Is everything…ok?"
"I have not now nor have I ever touched my son in anger," Coach Bolton hissed at the drama teacher, his eyes burning with a fiery passion that put an end to her accusations as he stormed past her to face his team. "Have any of you…have any of you noticed if anything is wrong with my…with Troy?"
"No…" "Not really…" "Well there was…"
"There was what?" Coach Bolton asked softly, hoping that whatever the boys would come out with could offer a simple and logical explanation that didn't mean that he had failed to notice that his son was being abused…
"It's just something he said once…"
The boy in question, Tyler, was flushing a deep red colour. Obviously whatever he was about to tell his coach had him feeling more than a little embarrassed/uncomfortable.
"He…um…he told…well he didn't tell us but he didn't deny it either…it's just…apparently Gabriella can be a little bit…feisty…when they…they…"
"Oh."
"Um…yeah…"
If the boys face got any hotter his head would probably explode…
"Right…" Coach Bolton mumbled, his mind filling his vision with a series of completely unwanted images. Troy was his little boy and, although there was obvious evidence that his innocence was long gone he didn't need to be told that his baby boy like it…like that…or that he and his girlfriend play…like that… "Thanks…um…you can go now boys…see you tomorrow…"
Turning he slowly faced the slightly deflated drama teacher.
"He…um…"
"I heard."
Her voice was still tense and her eyes were still worried.
"I'm sorry that I accused you of…" she began but he interrupted, holding his hand up as he gasped tearfully,
"I would never lay a hand on my little boy…never…"
"I'm sorry…" she apologised softly once more. "I was just worried about…"
"I know…" he sighed, rubbing a hand across his suddenly tired eyes. "When did everything get so messed up? When did he stop being my little boy…and how did I not notice?"
"A parent cannot know everything about their children," Mrs Darbus murmured softly, trying to reassure him as he sunk back down into his chair, placing his heavy head in his hands. "It's simply not possible."
"But…how could I not have noticed…he got a girl pregnant!" he gasped, his voice coming out choked off as he admitted his feeling of complete and utter failure to someone else for the first time. "How could I not have noticed that my little boy was old enough to be…experimenting? I should have…I should have warned him again…prepared him some more…"
"Well…hindsight's a bitch…" Mrs Darbus sighed deeply, earning a shocked glance from the distraught father. "What? I can swear you know."
"I just…I know you can…I just…it's weird…" Coach Bolton admitted softly. "Everything's so weird at the moment…so fucked up…I mean…Troy…and Gabriella…and the baby…and now bruises? How did things get so out of control?"
Unfortunately there was no answer that Mrs Darbus could give.
A/N Wow! This has been ages in coming! Sorry! Hope it's ok. Gotta find my plan for this story now so I can remember what I was gonna do…LOL!