This was a wedding celebration, but she had never felt more weary. She was satisfied with the peace she had brokered between the basketball team and the theater kids, but the merriment of the hall was lost on her. Catelyn had been seated between Troy Bolton and Ser Wendel Manderly, the latter of whom still busied himself with a leg of lamb.
At least Robb* looks happy, looks his age a bit, she thought. Her basketball king bounced in time to the quick beat of the drums. She looked to the dancers and saw Edwyn Frey wrench his arm from Dacey Mormont’s grip. “I’m done with dancing for the nonce,” said Edwyn, too loudly, “and you shouldn’t have done the jazz square.” He shoved Dacey aside and stalked toward the doors to the hall.
Dacey stared after him with a puzzled expression, and Catelyn heard her mutter, “everyone loves a good jazz square.” Doubt gripped Catelyn’s heart where an instant before had been only weariness. She grabbed Troy by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt the leotard beneath his silken jersey.
The drums slowed their beat, echoing more loudly across the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew “Stick to the Status Quo” when she heard it. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a Wildcat still has claws. And while your head might be in the game, my lord, your heart is in the song.
Robb bounced after Edwyn Frey, and Catelyn called out after him. He turned, and a quarrel sprouted from beneath a black rib. Another sprouted from the L in the Spalding logo, and Robb fell to the ground. She watched her son’s orange, dimpled skin begin to deflate.
“Mother…what team?” hissed Robb as the air left him.
“wildcats,” replied Catelyn.
The doors burst open in a cloud of sequins and spotlight, and Catelyn saw Ser Ryman Frey bury a set piece in Dacey’s stomach. Ser Wendel’s mouth had dropped open at the bright display, and two Frey men-at-arms took advantage of his inaction and began applying his stage makeup.
Above it all, Ms. Darbus watched her chapel of the arts.
“Heh,” she said, “seems we auditioned some of your men. But they’ll get their heads in the game, that’ll mend them again.”
Catelyn grabbed a handful of Sharpay’s long hair and dragged her out of her hiding place. “On my honor as a Tully,” “on my honor as a member of East High Class of 2008, I will trade your lady’s life for Robb’s. A theater kid for a basketball. Robb, run the give and go. GO!”
Ms. Darbus smiled. “A player for a player, heh. But that’s an understudy, and she’s going to get incredibly fucking annoying in the sequel.”
Troy Bolton, in dark armor and a bright red jersey stepped up to Robb. “The Outside ‘J’ sends his regards.” He thrust a Playbill through the center of the basketball, and twisted.
Catelyn stood motionless as the new cast of the ‘Twinkle Town Musicale’ grabbed her arms and legs, and forced her feet into character shoes. It tickled, and she laughed until she screamed. “Mad, she’s lost her wits, yikes” she heard, and felt someone grab her hair. No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, the state basketball championships are televised. Then the microphone was at her throat, and they were all in this together.
*played here by an actual basketball**
**no, I don’t know what is wrong with me either