The end of April means a lot of things for an eighth grade Danny Mahealani. More, as it turns out, than he actually knows at the time. It doesn't just mean the end of the school year; it means the end of life as a middle schooler, period. It means so long to those stupid required fine arts class, restricted lunches, and the pint-sized half-lockers that Danny's pretty sure are actually smaller than his backpack.
Of course, downside's that it also means finals. Like, crap tons of finals, and the statewide assessment tests which don't actually count for something but they still make them take anyway because…they're…important…somehow.
Danny'll take their word for it.
He's not actually really worried about any of it. He may not be as smart as some of his friends – even if Lydia's started doing this thing these last couple years where she pretends to be dumber than she is, which makes Danny just want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she realizes by some sort of weird osmosis that it's totally okay to be beautiful and smart – but he can still breeze through most of his classes. The only one that gives him a little bit of trouble is Algebra II.
Which is what he's currently doing. He and Jackson have called another one of their last minute study sessions, and they're just now wrapping up a four-hour afterschool marathon of polynomials and second degree equations, after which Danny's pretty sure his calculator's considering suicide. His eyes are right there behind it, because seriously, he's all for academia, but even he can only stare at curvy lines and x's and y's before it all starts to blur together.
"I should probably get going," he says, breaking the comfortable silence that's been hanging between them the last half hour or so. Jackson looks up from his book, and then over to the clock. Danny follows his lead. "Holy crap." The 9:03 barely has time to register before he's already scrambling up off his friends bed, throwing his books into his backpack and stepping into his shoes. "My mom's gonna kill me."
Jackson just watches him with a bored expression. Because the great and venerable Whittemore doesn't understand the consequences of something so plebian as breaking curfew. He doesn't even have one.
Secretly, Danny thinks he wishes he did. He keeps his theory to himself, though.
"You want a ride?" Jackson asks. "I could ask my dad." And Danny's once again reminded why Jackson's his best friend. Underneath all that nonchalant, "too cool" BS, he's actually a really decent guy.
Still, he shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm good." He doesn't want to bother Mr. Whittemore, and he knows how much his friend hates asking his parents for, well, anything. Ever since they told him he was adopted, he's got this whole "I don't want anything from you" thing going on, which he kind of gets, but at the same time kind of doesn't. He doesn't say anything about that, though, either. He wouldn't know anything about it; both his biological parents are still around, still married, and if they fight from time to time and his dad works late more often than not, well that's just part of it.
Jackson walks with him to his bike propped up outside, even though he doesn't need to and Danny can tell he'd rather be back upstairs studying. Like he said: not a complete jerk. Just like Lydia's not a complete bimbo, and he's not at all interested in that girl Jessica he took to the formal, or, like, any girl. Period.
They all have their little secrets he guesses.
"See you tomorrow," he says as he climbs on his bike, and he's just about to start the eight minute, thirty-two second (give or take some for windspeed and the fact that Danny just demolished half a cheese pizza) bike ride back to his house – not like he's done this a few times or anything – when he hears something. He stops, one foot still propped on a pedal and the other still planted on the ground, and he listens.
There it is again.
He frowns.
"What is that?" It sounds like yelling, coming from the house across the street. It's a man's voice, kind of familiar, but he can't really place it.
Jackson doesn't look too bothered by it, and Danny knows his friend enough to know that it's not just the 'pretending not to be bothered' but the actual, legitimate 'I really don't give a crap.'
Danny frowns deeper. "Isn't that…" He's trying to think of the name, but he's totally drawing a blank. He blames Algebra II.
"Lahey," Jackson supplies dully.
"Right." Danny nods. "Isaac, right?" His answer's a particularly loud slam of a door, and he looks up to see a boy he recognizes from school – Isaac Lahey, his algebra-addled brain reminds him helpfully – coming out of the front door at close to a sprint, and an older guy that Danny finally recognizes as the coach of the high school's swim team comes right out after him, yelling for him to come back. He doesn't, though. He gets on his bike, and wow…no, seriously, wow, Danny doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pedal that fast before. It's like he's running for his life or something, and not just from his angry dad, and for some reason, Danny feels his stomach twist sickly and his hair stand on end. Mr. Lahey yells after Isaac for a few seconds longer before he seems to give up and disappears, and the door slams behind him.
Danny's suddenly struck with the strange urge to take off after him. Not Mr. Lahey, but Isaac. He knows how upset he can get when his parents yell, and that's at each other; he can't imagine his dad yelling at him like that, and he's got this weird feeling like he just wants to…he doesn't know. Be there for Isaac? Someone needs to; why not him.
But then the rational part of his brain that he thought he left somewhere between the pages of chapters 8 and 10 of his textbook manages to wriggle its way back between his ears, and he realizes that he doesn't actually know Isaac Lahey. He's seen him a few times at lacrosse practice, and he thinks he might've had a few classes with him, but he's not actually sure if he's ever had a real conversation with him ever, and he's probably been traumatized enough for one night without some complete stranger chasing him down on his bike and tackle hugging him to the ground.
And Danny has no idea where that last idea came from, but he'd kind of like it to go back there, please. Thank you.
Besides, it's way past his curfew; he needs to get home, before his mom has a conniption fit or something and grounds him for the first part of summer. Because that would suck.
So, instead, he tells Jackson goodbye and starts home. But he does, in the back of his head, promise that the next time he sees Isaac, he's going to talk to him. Not about the argument, not about what he saw, but just…talk.
And he does.
It's the next day at school at lunch time. Danny's just finished taking his Algebra II final, and he's both a little mad because he totally over-studied for it, and really relieved, because it's pretty much smooth-sailing from here. He's got his lunchbox – Green Lantern; his favorite's actually Northstar, but they don't make lunchboxes of him – with the lunch his mom packed special for him, and he's about to go over to his usual table with Jackson and Lydia and the others when something catches his eye.
Over at one of the tables on the far side of the room, sitting pretty much by himself even in a cafeteria where empty seats are almost as hard to come by as, say, a Northstar lunchbox, is Isaac Lahey. He's got a book out in front of him that looks like a text book, and he looks like he's focusing on it so hard, Danny's half expecting it to start spouting the secrets of the universe in the Voice of God or something. But it doesn't, and Isaac's really just a boy sitting alone at a table with his shoulders hunched and his head in his hands and there's absolutely no reason for it, but Danny feels his something in his chest twist painfully.
He looks pitiful.
Before Danny's really even sure what he's doing, he's changing directions, and instead of making a beeline straight for his usual table, he's going to the other side of the room. Towards Isaac.
And as he gets closer, he starts to notice other things. Like how Isaac's hair is really curly, but not too curly, and he thinks it would probably be really soft if he reached out and touched it—
He derails that thought quickly.
But others quickly rush in to take its place. Isaac's clothes look too big for him. Not in the 'trying to be gangster' way, either, but like they're actually someone else's clothes that he's wearing. If anything, they only serve to highlight how lanky he is. Danny's no beefcake himself, but he's starting to fill out – thank God. Isaac, not so much, though. Danny thinks, actually, if he looks close enough, that he can see the ridges of his spine through his sweater. Which, by the way, he shouldn't be wearing, because it's, like, t-shirt and shorts weather outside. It's April, for crying out loud.
He's almost right up next to him when he notices the rest. The dark circles under Isaac's eyes. And wow, they are really, really blue, but not the 'jump out at you' kind of blue like Jackson's; they're a little subtler, but Danny actually thinks they're prettier for it.
Even if they do look really, really sad.
He tries to shake that off, too, because there's that weird urge to hug him again that he really doesn't think would be appropriate in the grand scheme of things. He focuses, instead, on trying to read over his shoulder. He tells himself he's not being nosey; he's just making sure he's not about to interrupt him if he's studying for a final or something.
Closer inspection, however, reveals that Isaac's not actually studying at all. Not unless the school is suddenly offering a course in...is that Spider-Man?
Okay, that's oddly cute.
Satisfied that he's not disturbing anything, Danny summons up all of his not-inconsiderable courage and slides smoothly into the seat next to Isaac.
He's not expecting him to flinch. And that should probably be his cue to get up and walk quickly in the opposite direction – especially because he can feel Jackson's eyes burning incredulous, what the hell are you doing holes into the back of his Hollister shirt – but all he gets is that strange urge to hug him again. Seriously. It's becoming a problem.
For the sake of his sanity and, you know, not freaking Isaac out, he very casually puts his lunchbox down on the table and very deliberately opens it. He can feel Isaac's eyes on him as he does, even though he's pretending to still be focusing on his comic, and Danny's likewise pretending not to notice.
Eventually, though, he decides to break the silence. Mostly just because it's pretty clear Isaac isn't going to.
"Studying hard, huh?" he says, and hah, that gets Isaac to actually look at him, even if it is a little strangely. He nods towards his comic book, and Isaac glances down and seems to figure it out.
His cheeks flush a little, and he subconsciously curls his arm over the comic book like he's trying to hide it. And that's not what Danny was going for at all.
He tries to avert disaster, donning his nicest smile. "I'm more of a Green Lantern kind of guy, myself," he says, and picks up the lid of his lunchbox to illustrate.
Isaac's eyebrow kind of ticks. "DC?"
It takes Danny a second to realize Isaac actually just said something, and another second to realize that it probably shouldn't make him feel as victorious as he does. He tamps down on it, going for a more casual shrug as he starts to pull his lunch out of his box. Sandwich, orange juice, carrot sticks, and a mass of tinfoil that makes him smile, because he knows exactly what's inside. "Not really. I like Northstar better, but no one ever knows who he is." Especially not his group of friends. He tried talking to Jackson once about comics, but he probably would've had better luck getting help on his history homework from his red Doberman puppy, Kekipu. He just kind of got this glazed-over look and immediately and not-even-a-little-bit-subtly switched the conversation back over to lacrosse, and that was that.
Not Isaac, though. He actually seems to brighten up a little bit; Danny thinks he sees a hint of a smile on his face, and it makes Danny oddly pleased to know that he did that.
"Alpha Flight?" he says, and Danny could've danced. He doesn't think he's ever had anyone know who he's talking about; not even the guy at the bookstore.
"You've read it?"
Isaac gives a little bit of a nod. "My brother—" he starts, but then he stops just as abruptly, his eyes going a little bit wide and his jaw clenching visibly beneath his fair skin.
He's retreating; Danny can practically see it happening, and no, no, no, he doesn't want that. He scrambles, wracking his brain for something, anything to keep Isaac from going back to that quiet little place he was when Danny came and sat down.
Then his eyes land on the little wad of tinfoil, and he gets an idea. Moving quickly, and with a little less pomp and circumstance than this little bundle of joy probably deserves, Danny unwraps the tinfoil. Inside are two almost perfectly-round, hushpuppy-looking balls of fried dough, and before Danny is even really sure what he's doing, he's holding out the now open tinfoil package to Isaac.
Isaac blinks. He looks between Danny and the tinfoil, and after a second, it occurs to Danny that he's really not sure what he's doing. Which probably make sense, because he pretty much just shoved them in the guy's face. It's just…Tutu always says nothing makes a bad day better than a little something sweet, and Isaac looks like he could use a better day.
"Andagi," he explains, only to realize that…probably doesn't help. "It's like a donut. My mom made them for me, kind of like a good luck for finals. You, uh…you want one?" He chuckles a little awkwardly. "I mean, now that I've practically thrown them at you."
For a second, Isaac just keeps looking at him, and Danny's about to give up hope, but then Isaac reaches out and picks, with a little more hesitation and caution than is really necessary, one of the andagi from the tinfoil.
Again, it takes Danny a second to realize what's just happened, but then he smiles, and brings the bundle back to himself, picking the last one out of the package. Normally, he saves them until last, but he thinks this is a special circumstance.
Isaac doesn't immediately go to try his, even though Danny's pretty sure he can see his mouth watering, so Danny figures maybe he should lead by example. He takes a bite out of his, and yeah, they're just as awesome as they always are. Sweet, and crispy-crunchy on the outside, but all moist and cake-like on the inside. They're just…they're awesome.
And finally, Isaac takes the hint, and Danny tries not to look like he's staring, but he's, like, freakishly absorbed in watching the look on Isaac's face as he takes the first bite of what Danny's pretty sure should be classified as an illegal substance.
It's like a light bulb. It's not even gradual. Isaac takes a bite out of it, and his eyes go a little wide, and yes! There it is! Danny sees it! A real, honest to goodness smile, and it's such a nice sight that Danny can't even be a little bit mad when Isaac practically inhales the rest. No, he's smiling too, probably a little bit stupidly, because he feels like he just did a good thing. He looked so sad before, and now he's happy, and Danny…Danny did that.
Well, okay, his mom made the andagi. But Danny was selfless enough to share, so that's gotta count for something, right?
"They're good, right?" Danny says. They must be, because Isaac's licking his fingers.
Isaac nods. "They're great. Thank you." His voice is quiet, but he sounds so genuine. And suddenly, Danny's a little bit sad again, because here he is, with two of them in his lunch and a whole freaking cookie tray of them at home. And Isaac just gets one little taste of them, and he acts like Christmas just came early.
Danny has half a mind to offer him the rest of his – he's pretty sure Isaac would take it, because he actually looks hungry, and Danny finds himself wondering if maybe it wouldn't be too crazy to maybe offer him half of his sandwich, too. But before he can do any of that, Isaac suddenly jumps.
For a second, Danny's confused, because it looks kind of like someone just zapped Isaac with one of those prank handshake gags, but then he reaches into the pocket of his too-big, ragged jeans – and dang it, now Danny feels guilty about his clothes, too – and pulls out a clamshell cell phone.
Danny doesn't think he's imagining the way his hands shake as he flips it open and checks the screen. He tries not to pry, but he can see it's a text message, and he thinks he sees Dad on the top of the screen, but he can't be sure, because before he can really get a good look, Isaac snaps it shut and shoves it roughly back into his pocket.
And then he's leaving. He's closing his book with the comic still inside, and he's stammering out an apology to the floor, because that's where his eyes are fixed. And before Danny can even ask him where the heck he's going or why he suddenly looks so…sad? No. Scared…
He's gone.
He tries to ignore it. He gathers up his things, but he doesn't go back to his usual table, just slips off to his next class early. He spends the rest of the day thinking about it. That night, too. When he tries to go to sleep, all he can see is those wide blue eyes, and he wonders what it said.
He wonders about it all night.
And the next morning.
And all day at school – which, by the way, sucks when he's trying to focus on his French test, especially since a certain head of curly hair is right in front of him, pointedly refusing to acknowledge his existence.
By the time he gets home, he's had enough. He's always been good with computers...
It's not as hard as it should be. A little bit of asking around to get a few details he needs, a couple Google how-to's, and about five hours, and he gets what he's looking for.
How was the final?
Ok, I think.
Good.
That's it. That's all. Three texts, sent back and forth between Isaac's dad and him. He checks the time, and that's definitely it, but…but he feels like he's missing something.
Turns out, though, it's actually a little harder than he thought to hack into someone's phone. At least, it's harder than he thought not to get caught doing it. Mr. Lahey finds out, and the police get involved, and Danny doesn't know why, but he can't bring himself to explain why he did it, just that he wanted to see if he could.
He doesn't tell anyone about the fear he saw in those eyes.
After a while, he thinks maybe he just imagined it, anyway. Kids do stupid things, like his parents said. He straightened up after that, put it behind him. The last few days of school came and went, Danny got A's in all his classes, graduated middle school fifth in the class, and spent the summer hanging out with Lydia and Jackson and his family in Hawaii.
His first day of high school, when he walked into the cafeteria, he saw it: a familiar head of curly hair, bent over a book, its owner sitting alone at the table.
And then he saw Jackson and Lydia sitting at a table on the other side, and, without so much as a second glance, he went and sat down with them.