My Dad Is a Jerck

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AFTER SCHOOL


I'm with the cheerleaders outside the school, they are cheerin I don't know why but wathever. I'm sitting in the grass reading a book, when I spot Gabriella and Taylor talking and coming over to us, with that I get up to great Gabriella.

"Troy? Hmm... I wouldn't consider myself an expert on that particular sub-species, however, unless you speak cheerleader, as in....." I hear Taylor talking then she come over and yell in the most girlysh voice ever "Oh, my gosh! Isn't Troy Bolton just the hottie super-bomb?" Taylor asked us.

"Oh, he's beautiful." Most of the cheerleaders say.

"Ew no! He's my brother! That's disgustin." I screams in disgust, that's like incest and is bad.

I walke then to Gabriella "Hey, Gabriella!" I said.

"Hi Cat." Gabriella smiles to me.

"How was your first day?" She asked her.

"Good." She told her.

"That's great!" I said.

"Ok wrong cheerleader but you know I mean." Taylor told her.

"I guess I don't know how to speak cheerleader." Gabriella told her.

"It's prety deficult." I said nooding my head.

"Which is why we exist in an alternate universe to Troy the basketball boy." Taylor told her making me laught.

"Well I got to go, but I see you tomorow." I said to then and go of.


BOLTON HOME


The twins and their father are in the backyard baskeball court getting in some after-school practice.

"I still don't understand this whole detention thing." Dad told us.

"It was our fault. Sorry, Dad." Troy and me apologized.

"Cross court. You know Darbus will take any oppourtunity to bust my chops. That includes yours too." He told us.

"Hey, Dad? Did you ever think about trying something new, but were afraid of what your friends might think?"Troy asked.

"You mean like, going left? You're doing fine. Come on." Dad told Troy.

"Well... no. I think what Troy means is what if you wanna try something really new and it's a total disaster and all your friends laugh at you." I try to tell him.

"Well then, maybe they're not really your friends. And that was my whole point about team today. You guys gotta look out for each other. And Troy's captain of the team." Dad told me.

"Dad, We're not talking..." Troy began but was cut by dad.

"There's gonna be college scouts at our game next week, Troy. Know what a scholarship is worth these days?" Dad asked him.
Troy looks at me, I'm so annoyed that dad never listen to us or me just Troy. He then nods in defeat.
"A lot." Troy said.

"Yeah. Focus. Troy, come on." Dad told. Troy once again nails the shot.

He is so....with that I walk to my room annoyed. Dad Never listen to me or sems to notice me with make me sad. I do a hard work in the cheerleader and get good grades in school to see if he sees me but it sems like never work.

Why can't he look at me or get worried about me like he is with Troy and the team???? I love him I do everityng right. Did I mees someting? I'm a good daughter?

I walk to my beadroom and close the door looking. I go to the bathroom and cloe the door too, I open my counter and get a razon that I have. I never used before, I get my sleeve up and look at the mirror in front of me seeing tears in my face. I haven't noticed they there. I take the razon towards my skin and leave there for a few moments till I pull her making her cut my pale skin making a red liquid poor out and get in the counter.

I do more three more times, crying and soaking my arm ith blood. I stop crying and put whater in the cuts making me flick a little, then put a bandage adn pulling dow my sleeve. I got back to my room and get in bed slepping. Feeling the pain of my dad, going away.


Toy's P.O.V.

I go to my sister room, because I know that she is sad about dad and she is right. I open her room I see her slepping in her bed I go to her tu put her blanked over her when I see her arm bandage.

What did she do? I get off the bandage and see, what I see get my eyes teary. She cut herself. I bandage back and kiss her head, get out of the room and into my. I don't belive that she did that. I just hope that she stop that. I will try to help her.


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