wrote it when I was in a bad mood, hoping it would help me feel better. It didn't, but I hope you guys like it. Enjoy
Danny sat on his bed, snuggled into the corner with his mp3 player in his ears, trying to cover the noise of the world. He wanted some space, free time to himself. He was tired and in a foul mood. He just wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, not even to pretend he was in a good mood. When Danny had gotten home from school, he dropped his backpack at the doorway and stomp his way through the house and into his room. Sam and Tucker tried texting him, to try and get him to talk, but it came to the point where Danny just shut his phone off. He didn't want to talk to someone, or even have someone cheer him up.
It was easy to become tired when all you do is go to school, and then fight ghosts all day long, every day. But no one ever thanked him for it. His parents didn't know, heaven forbid that, and school only knew him as Loser Fenton. The boy who sleeps in class and gets bad grades.
Danny growled to himself and rested his forehead against his knees. It wasn't like he was failing on purpose! It's just hard to study when you simply don't have time. And it was even harder to stay awake during class when he just didn't slept as much as he needs to.
He sighed and looked up from his knees. His room was lit up by the full moon, giving it an almost peaceful atmosphere. The numbers 8:00 glowed from his alarm clock. It wasn't past curfew yet. Restless, and needing to get out of this house, he grabbed his coat and shoes and quickly marched out of the house. He made sure to slam the door.
A cold breeze blew through him, causing him to shiver. It was still spring, so the nights were a bit chilly. Danny tighten his coat around him before he started walking. Few people were walking about, it being night. He was glad this town wasn't that big. Not only did that meant the streets weren't crowded, but it also meant fewer ghosts.
He turned up the volume on his mp3 player so he no longer could hear anything but the music. It was his way of escaping. There wasn't anything else he could do to escape. Perhaps fly, but he wasn't in the mood. Especially in fear of finding Valerie. He was so not in the mood to deal with her.
Danny was watching his surroundings, being careful since his hearing was occupied. When there was someone out in the streets, they ignored him and continued walking. Why wouldn't they? He was just a fourteen year old boy to them, nothing special.
Something caught his eye. A little girl was too close to the road than was safe. A woman was standing next to her. That must have been the mother. She was talking to a man, completely distracted from her daughter. HE turned his attention back to the little girl. Danny watched in horror as the little girl stepped into the street.
His horror magnified when he saw the speeding truck heading toward her. Instinct taking control, Danny ran to the little girl, hoping he can get to her before the truck did. Yelling would be ineffective. The girl would stop and look around, trying to find out who had yelled out the warning. By then, it would be too late.
Danny leapt towards her and wrapped her in his arms, protecting her from any harm. He had seen this in movies and oh, he sure hoped it worked in real life, too. He used his ghost powers to aid them, just enough to ensure that they both would live. They hit the ground hard, Danny's shoulder taking most of the blow. They rolled from the momentum and didn't stop until they luckily reached the island of the road. The island was dividing the direction of traffic, so Danny and the little girl didn't had to avoid so many cars.
The girl instantly started crying once the shock had worn off. Danny sat up, taking his weight off from her. His shoulder protest. He reached up and prodded it for a while, searching for anything broken. He sighed in relief when he found nothing damaged. But judging by the now silence coming from his headphones, he had a feeling that his mp3 player was done for.
A shout of horror caught his attention and he looked up. The woman waited until the road was clear before crossing the street to where the two sat. She landed on her knees and scooted up the little girl. The little girl cried while the mother covered her in kisses, also crying. Danny watched with a smile, glad he was able to help.
She looked up to him with huge, grateful eyes, her makeup smeared from the tears. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" she cried out in an accent, gripping his knee tightly. Danny smiled, feeling awkward. He wasn't used to getting thanks like this.
"You are a hero!" she continued. She stood up, holding her young one. She must have been so relieved that she wasn't paying attention to anything else. She walked away, talking to her child in their native tongue.
What she had said had hit him hard. She thought Danny Fenton was a hero. He sat there, grinning, and thinking that sentence over and over. He may just be a small fourteen year old, but he was a hero. He helped someone.
Danny walked home, still feeling happy for what had happened. He saved a little girl's life! Danny Fenton did! If someone had saw Danny walking home with that smile on his face, they would have thought him as high.
He stepped into his house to find his mother sitting on the living room chair, reading. She looked up at Danny, her face expressing surprise. "Oh! You're home! And ever before your curfew time!" Pressing his lips together, Danny could feel his mood plummeting to the ground. And fast. He didn't reward her with any replies, but instead walked upstairs to his bedroom. He throw threw his coat onto his desk chair, slid his shoes off, and dumped his broken mp3 player into the trash. He then flopped on his bed. He studied the stars that were glued to his ceiling. His parents had put those up there back when he was eight. Back when things were simpler.
Danny covered his eyes with his arm. He was so tired. But saving that girl had showed him something. He may be small and seem insignificant, but at least he was doing something to help people, to change things. At least he was making a difference; one small difference at a time.