A little something for the New Year...because my other story refuses to type itself. Enjoy! And I don't own Danny Phantom!

It was a bumpy ride, but Tucker did manage to get the wheelchair up the steps. And the doorway beamed back at me! Or not so much the door but –

"Hey Fen-turd, you brought that dump truck with you?"

– that. Dash was positively beaming with idiotic glee, the kind he probably gets from dumping cripples into trashcans and watching them try and crawl out.

Sam calls it "physically disabled", but it still doesn't change the fact that I'm missing everything past both knee-caps.

Me. Danny Fenton, cripple-extraordinaire, the leg-less wonder, and I still managed to grasp the title of Dash's favorite punching bag. Gee, I wonder what I did in my past life to deserve this.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Sam shouts, but I'm already hoisted in the air, chair and all, and the chair goes tip-tip-tip and –

Ker-thunk!

I can still hear football-brain and his crew gawfing away down the hall by the time Sam grasps the tops of both my arms and pulls. Her lavender eyes fill with concern, but her face is ready to rip the living daylights out of some innocent passerby. And bite their nose off for a good measure. In the back of my head, Phantom growls.

"I can't believe they have the nerve to pick on cripples! That's just cruel and unfair, they don't even have a chance to fight back! Even Tucker would make a better target!" Sam rants.

"Yeah, what she sa – wait what?" Tucker adds, pulling over the chair from the corner it rolled to. He backed away once I'm in place on the metal thing, tucked away like some useless, fragile doll.

Yeah, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed today. I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count.

"Thanks for your support guys," I growl, "now can we get. To. Class."

"It's not your fault, Danny," Sam rambles on, alternatively fussing over me and glaring at anything that moved. "Not everyone has the strength to live the rest of their life confined to a chair. I bet Dash could never go through it. I bet no one else would be willing to try and save a soul by jumping in and pushing –"

"Not. Helping." My teeth gnash together tightly, and I have to force myself to relax and wrench them open, all while the lights are speeding back and horns blaring in my ears and that lightning of pain that's there one moment and gone the next –

"The past is the past. Now let's go."

– and the screams and bright blue metal reflecting startled face and glass eyes staring up up up up –

For once, I really wish Dash would get stuck in a locker, with his pants full of hot sauce, for the entire day for reminding me of what I am.

I feel Phantom grin, and far away an un-manly shriek arises. I see images of locker C45 in the gym and of the cafeteria flash by –

I am an idiot.

– and I hurry to stop him before he phases into some government facility-in-white for a torch wielder.

Yeah, Danny's a cripple ;p and Phantom's a separate individual, and they share a mental link. Don't ask me how, this is just a little ficlet that struck me one day, and I don't think it's going anywhere. Maybe Danny was a little too grouchy?