I'm No Expert (HSM3 Fan Fiction Edition)

I'm no expert but don't you really believe that at the end, where Troy is telling Chad, "Naw, Holmes, I goin' to Cal, son. Immo be ballin' and rappin' and doin' all kinds a new shit. Fuck Albuquerque, nigga, this shit is plaay'd. Me and Gabriella? Sheeiiit boy...this shit is for real. See what I'm sayin'?" that Chad may not have been so receptive and understanding? I seems that, given the context, Troy's decision appears to be an affront of sorts, perceived, if not real.

It is my belief that Chad might have actually retorted as such, "Oh, I see how yo punk bitch ass roll, then. I thought it was all 'bros before 'hos, playa? Dat bitch ain't even goinna be at Cal. Bitch at Stanfords, nigga. That shit far! And I seen yo' truck, Money, that ain't goinna happen, I'm tellin' you. You goinna get played by some rich, smart ass, computer science niggas, fool. You coulda been tearing shit up at the 'Querque, G. But now you be folding towels on the end of the bench while getting whooped by UCLA every single night. Immo be clockin' playin' time up in this bitch, son...and gettin' all kindsa booty. You goinna have to be puttin' on some serious mack just for a taste a play with, some butt ass hippie chicks with daddy issues, nigga."

Oh, snap.

HSM4: Gunshots. Death. Prison. R.I.P. t-shirts. Dreams shattered. Talks of what "could have" been. Parole. Revenge. Etc.

But I'm no expert of course.