Danny managed to shoo Sam and Tucker out of the lab just moments before his older sister, Jazz, got home. Jasmine was a year older than the trio, though she acted like an adult and was constantly trying to psychoanalyze them. She had long, auburn hair that she usually left loose and blue eyes the same shade as Danny's, and her long legs turned many heads at school even though she always kept them covered up with slacks or khakis.
"What're you guys doing at home on a Friday?" Jazz asked casually, setting her medley of multi-colored textbooks on the yellow wood dining table she'd found them sitting around. "You should be out and about, especially since Mom and Dad aren't home to get on your case."
"Oh?" said Danny. "I thought that was your job." He ducked just in time to dodge the Sharpie Jazz threw his way. "Seriously, though, we had a busy day. I think we'll save our wild teen partying until tomorrow." He wasn't fast enough this time to miss the ballpoint pen thrown at him, and the tip hit him directly on the nose.
"I'll have to pass on the partying," Sam said, sounding irritated. "My cousin Amanda's coming over tomorrow and there's no way my parents will let me get out of it."
"Wait!" Tucker interjected. "You mean your hot cousin Amanda?"
"No, actually, she must be pretty cold, considering how little she wears," Sam said in complete seriousness. Her phone vibrated in her skirt pocket, and she stood up without looking at it. "That's probably my folks. I better jet."
Danny stood automatically. "Want me to give you a lift?"
Sam shot him a look he couldn't decipher. "As fun as giving my parents an aneurysm would be, I'm going to have enough trouble this weekend without them giving me hell for associating with 'that Fenton boy' again. See you Monday." She gave them a final wave before hoisting her (black) messenger bag from where she'd left it on the counter over her shoulder and disappearing through the front door.
"You never offer to give me a ride home," Tucker said to Danny, an amused glint in his eyes.
"Because you're a guy."
Danny had an imprint of Tucker's calculator on his face until dinner.
Tucker, of course, stayed for dinner. Jazz phoned in for pizza, since she had a huge psych test to study for ("Four weeks isn't nearly enough time to cover all six chapters!" she'd wailed to Danny that very morning) and the boys ate while they played Doom in Danny's room.
It was the room of a typical teenage boy, with dirty socks strewn everywhere and the bed unmade. Posters of famous astronauts covered the walls and the ceiling, and he even had a star chart tucked behind some comic books on his bookshelf. Only Sam knew it was there, because she'd helped him buy it, and he knew Tucker would tease him relentlessly if he ever found out about it.
After his ninth death, Tucker decided it was time to go home. "I gotta think of a strategy to see Hot Cousin Amanda without Sam murdering me," he explained as he tied his shoes.
Danny crossed him arms and leaned against the wall next to the front door. "Amanda's not that hot, y'know. She's really shallow and fake."
"Says the guy who trailed after Paulina for two years."
"Paulina was hot. That is, until Dash knocked her up."
Paulina Sanchez had been the "it" girl of Casper High since she enrolled with Danny, Tucker, and Sam freshman year. She had bronzed skin, smooth dark hair, and legs that went on for miles. Danny was hardly the only boy enraptured by her exotic beauty, and several upperclassmen tried to hit on her as well. In the latter half of their sophomore year, however, Danny started to realize how much of a bitch she really was. Then, right before the end of the year, it was revealed that she was pregnant with Dash's child. Her parents immediately withdrew her from school and didn't sign her up for junior year, and now her name was practically taboo.
"Whatever." Tucker finished with his shoes and stood up. "See ya later, Danny."
"Yeah. Tell me how the Amanda thing goes."
Tucker flashed his lecherous grin. "Oh, I will."
Danny had a hard time getting to sleep that night. His entire body seemed to burn and itch and ache, and he had the insane feeling that it was too tight. Which was ridiculous, of course, because a person's skin was the largest organ of the body, and it was constantly stretching to accustom growth. He tried to keep it to himself, because he knew Jazz would just try to find a neat explanation for it that was somehow connected to some kind of psychological disorder she was convinced he possessed, but it was hard in the morning.
He'd stumbled into the kitchen where Jazz was flipping blueberry pancakes. "Morning," he yawned.
Jazz turned to greet him, but froze, her face morphing from that of a sleepy teenager to that of a concerned mother. "Danny, are you feeling okay? Your face is really red."
"It's nothing," he assured, waving her worry away with a swish of his hand. "The vent in my room's probably busted or something. I'll take a cold shower after breakfast and see if that helps." This seemed to reassure her, as she then asked him to set the table and pour her a glass of soy milk.
The cold shower did, in fact, not work. If anything, it made his skin more irritated, as if it were outraged he was trying to stop the itch. Danny groaned defeatedly, leaning his fevered forehead against the steamed mirror. He studied his reflection, and was surprised to see that there was a silver tint to his eyes.
It's probably nothing, he thought. Just a trick of the light.
He swept a hand over the mirror to dispel the steam, and when it was gone, his eyes were back to normal.
A little after noon, Danny got a text from Tucker. Want 2 eat NB? He suddenly realized how hungry he was, and he shot back an affirmative before shouting to Jazz where he was going. Not that she heard, of course. She was studying again, and he had no doubt she'd call if she got worried.
Since he had to pay for his own gas and Nasty Burger, the local haunt of Amity Park's teenage community, was only a few short blocks away, he forewent riding his motorcycle and opted to walk instead. The air seemed much clearer than it had the previous day, and Danny found his hearing was much more sharp. He chalked it up to the day being nice and got to the fast food joint with no further incident.
Tucker was already in their usual seat with their food, looking quite more dejected than he had when Danny saw him off the previous day. "Shot down?" he asked without preamble, sliding into the booth across from him.
"Worse," Tucker moaned. "Sam caught me peeking over the fence. She jumped it, pummeled me, and threatened me with disembowelment if I ever tried to hit on Amanda again."
"Can't say I didn't warn you," Danny replied unsympathetically. He plucked a burger from the mountain and unwrapped it. "It wouldn't've worked anyway, man. She lives in Florida and she goes through about ten boyfriends a year."
"How'd you know that?"
"Sam told me."
There was an uneasy silence for a moment before Tucker spoke up again. "Dude...you gonna leave some for me?"
With a start, Danny realized he'd eaten at least fifteen burgers within about seven minutes, lessening the pile tremendously. "Oh, sorry, man. I guess I was hungrier than I realized."
"What'd you have for breakfast?"
"Two blueberry pancakes, an omelette, and some bacon."
Tucker choked on his soda. "You never eat that much! Are you feeling okay?"
Danny felt an irrational anger rise in his chest. "I'm fine, Tuck. Why does everyone think there's something wrong with me?"
"Calm down, man. I was just asking."
The rest of their lunch was spent in silence.
The rest of Saturday passed without too much of a struggle, and as Danny tucked himself under his covers, he prayed that Sunday would be better.
Of course, that would have been too easy.
Danny awoke on Sunday morning to a splitting pain in his head. He choked back a cry of pain by biting his lip so hard it bled. Fumbling his way down the hallway, he nearly broke the handle of the bathroom opening it in a desperation to get some painkillers in his system. He swallowed two Tylenol dry, splashed some cold water on his face, and went down the stairs to get some breakfast.
Jazz was concerned about him again, but he bit tersely at the bacon he'd piled on his plate and refused to acknowledge her worry. When he was done, he tossed his tableware into the sink and stalked back up to his room.
Do not get angry at sister, a small voice at the back of his head said, She means no harm.
Dear Lord, Danny thought, leaning his head against the wood of his door. I'm going insane.
No, you're not, said the voice. This is natural. I am a part of you, and you will need me in upcoming times. I only want what's best for both of us.
Okay then, Danny replied mentally. What do you want me to do?
Nothing, for now. Relax, try to rest. You will have to use a lot of energy tomorrow.
What the hell, Danny decided, and plucked Sam's star chart from behind his comic books and began to look it over.
