Work This Out (High School Musical)

One: Team

At least Troy had gotten them jobs, right? At least he got them there, got them into steady paychecks, hoped for the best?

Maybe. Chad couldn't say anything other than he was really fucking pissed at the guy who was supposed to be his best friend, who was currently riding away in a golf cart with the girl who more often than not made life hell for them. Jocks and theatre kids don't mix well together.

"Hey! Wait up!" 

He almost groaned internally at the sound of the voice behind him. Chad shouldered the bag of golf clubs and turned, surprised to see Ryan coming up behind him, tugging along a different set of golf clubs.

"What? Did they forget you?"

Chad had stopped walking by then, watching Ryan stand next to him and catch his breath. 

"Forget? Or replaced." Ryan didn't seem thrilled in the least. "Either way, I'm here now. Thanks for waiting." 

"...sure." Chad shook his head. Unbelievable. "You need a hand with that?" 

"Nah, nah, I think I got it." 

Chad cocked an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, 'course." 

Clearly, Chad didn't believe him, and swiftly bent down and threw it onto his shoulder with a soft "Jesus Christ" because good God these things were really fucking heavy. 

"Right. Let's go," Chad told him without a second thought, starting back on the way. Suddenly, he was glad he hadn't stopped going into the weight room.

Ryan, once again, had to jog a little to catch back up to him. "Hey man, thanks a bunch for this," he said, "you really didn't have to, I'd have found a way to get it there myself."

"I mean, I'm getting paid to do this, and if I don't pick up Troy's slack, I'll be the one getting my ass beat for it." Chad shook his head. "Really, you think I wouldn't get written up for letting a club member carry their own clubs?"

"Well, I wouldn't have let that happen." 

Chad snorted. He wouldn't have believed that in a million years, no matter how vaguely genuine Ryan did seem regarding the matter. Still, he looked over to Ryan, all of his pale, flamboyant self. 

"Right" seemed appropriate for Chad to say, rather than as if or fucking sure you would, huh and the like. 

"I mean it, c'mon. My sister's busy trying to get into Troy's pants, someone has to remember there's more of our classmates here than just him."  Ryan...still seemed genuine when he spoke. He adjusted his hat, probably for the sun's sake. 

Chad hesitated at that remark. "I didn't get the impression anyone here wanted us to stay. In fact, it seems like Fulton especially hates us." 

"I mean..." 

"You mean what?"

"He's just trying to keep his job." 

Chad huffed again, picking up the pace a little. He could see the golf cart ahead had stopped at the next hole. "Oh yeah? And who has the opportunity to keep or fire him?"

"You're not the only one being replaced, asshole," Ryan snapped, matching pace with Chad then. Realistically, it couldn't have been too quick, considering the weight he had on him. "You thought about that yet?"

The words stung a little. Well...no, Chad hadn't thought about that yet. 

"That's what I thought." Ryan fixed his shirt, whether a nervous tick or not, it didn't need fixing. "Thank you for carrying the other bag."