Safety Zone
The streets felt colder than Dash expected for summer, making him thankful for the thick protective layer of his letterman jacket. Instinctively, he brought the hoodie holding Pookie closer to his chest, tucking the hood tighter over the chihuahua's head.
He was at least a good three miles away from that house–that hell–and was now approaching the bright lights of downtown Amity Park. The sun was close to setting far in the hills on a Friday night, so thankfully there was a rather substantial crowd milling about the sidewalks, finding merriment in shops, restaurants, and the movie theater.
Perfect. Dash could blend in and buy some time in this area while he figured out what to do next. But first…
He quickly ran across the street and turned onto Maple Avenue, his face becoming crestfallen as he saw the "Sorry…we're closed" sign in Amity Park Veterinarian's window. Drat. Pookie needed stitches, he knew that much, but he didn't know how to give them himself. He would have to come back in the morning.
With a worried sigh, Dash headed back around the block to the plaza in front of the movie theater, taking a seat along the ledge of the central garden bed. He leaned back, letting his backpack rest on the shredded bark that surrounded the trees. The care-free happiness of the people passing by him seemed foreign to him, almost mocking. He was homeless now, although the years of abuse from his dad had pretty much made that a virtual reality already.
He looked down at Pookie, pressing a hand between the jacket's fabric to the little chest and letting relief wash over him as his cold hand seemed to shock the dog awake.
"Oh thank god," Dash whispered. Pookie didn't deserve this. No one did. But he was never going back to that place. If there was one thing Dash abhorred, it was animal abuse. He'd rather take a thousand punches than let Pookie be hit once.
"It's okay, Pookie. You're safe now. Go back to sleep." He wasn't sure who exactly he was trying to reassure with the words, but he continued to scratch under his chin until the dog's eyes closed tiredly again. The two of them could swear off that place all they wanted, but more likely than not Peter Baxter would try to trick the authorities to get Dash back–again. He needed to hide as soon as possible.
Keeping Pookie balanced on his lap, Dash shrugged off his backpack and fished into it for his old phone. He turned it on–thankful that it had held its charge–and immediately dialed Kwan's cellphone. After the fourth ring, Kwan's familiar voice broke into its outgoing message before finally giving him the go-ahead beep.
"Kwan, it's me. Please please please call back when you get this." Dash was surprised when his voice cracked with desperation. "I-it was really bad tonight. Pookie's…hurt. Please call back."
Dash tried calling four more times, anxiety growing every time it went to voicemail. He was tempted to call Kwan's family's house line, but he didn't want to accidentally have to explain himself to his parents. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Kwan was home.
Still, he didn't have any other choices to reach out to in this situation. He would have to walk all the way to Kwan's house…five miles away. But he needed a place to stay the night, and Kwan would be understanding and accommodating like the good friend he was, even if Dash had to wait for him to get home.
Putting the phone away and hauling the backpack up onto his shoulders again, Dash stood up and began the trek to Kwan's house, figuring that as long as he kept moving he was less likely to be in danger.
Only he was still looking at Pookie as he walked away from the movie theater, so he was thoroughly surprised when someone crashed into his shoulder. He looked up and saw Danny Fenton and his sister, Jazz. Of course the wimp wouldn't be watching where he was going.
"Watch it, Fentoné." The vague threat sounded more tired than Dash thought he was, but he tried to keep a menacing front in his glare.
Danny had quickly put a safe distance between himself and his bully, trying to keep his sister at arm's length. "Sorry Dash. Just passing through."
"And stop with the name-calling, Dash," Jazz continued, ignoring her brother's attempts to quiet her and walking a bit closer. "He didn't mean any harm, and what if it had been me, hmm?" Jazz was fully aware that Dash had not-so-secretly crushed on her early on in high school.
Dash contemplated this for a second, but exhaustion got the better of him and he shrugged it off, eager to just get to Kwan's. "Whatever," he mumbled.
As he started to walk forward again, Danny caught his forearm. The nerd must have a death wish, Dash thought. He would have to get him back next time he was at school, if he ever did go back. For the moment, however, he settled for giving a hard shove to get the kid off his arm, trying to hide Pookie in the process by bringing him closer to his torso.
Danny's grip refused to give. He looked critically at Dash's face, then asked cautiously, "Dash, why is your face all banged up?" He motioned for Jazz to come over, then half-heartedly joked, "Did you get in a fight with yourself?"
Dash couldn't help but wince at Fenton's choice of words. They weren't too far from the truth. Jazz spoke first though before he had a chance to retort. Her tone seemed much more concerned than her brother's. "Seriously Dash, you have cuts and bruises all over your face! Fresh ones. What's going on?"
"Nothing that concerns you. Now let me go. I'm just going to Kwan's house, okay? And I…fell earlier."
"Alright, fine. But last I heard, Kwan had to skip a date night with Valerie because he's 'on a family camping trip' until tomorrow," Danny counterpointed, crossing his arms accusingly.
Damn. Dash had forgotten about that. Well, it explained the missed calls at least. But how did Fenton know about that? He was about to ask when Jazz interjected.
"These cuts need attention. Now." Her future medical aspirations began to show. But did he really look that banged up?
Dash's hoodie began to stir in his arms again, and he heard his dog let out a small yap. Jazz didn't even hesitate to push back the edge of the green hood and gasp in shock, covering her mouth with both hands, before looking closely at Pookie's wound.
"Your dog needs stitches," her voice was shaky as she continued. "I don't know what happened, but please let us bring you back to our place and fix you up. Both of you."
"Like I would trust any of the Fentons to help me. Why would you help me when I always wail on you?" Dash stared pointedly at Danny, who looked at his feet and scuffed at the ground.
"Because I know what that," he gestured at Dash's face. "Feels like. And I know it's not a good feeling."
Maybe it was because Dash could verify that it wasn't a good feeling, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He had been the one to cause a lot of that pain, when he knew damn well what it felt like. What goes around, comes around, he thought, ashamed and exhausted.
"Besides, I don't think Jazz is gonna let you get away that easily, especially with the dog," Danny added.
Jazz confirmed her brother's thought. "He's right. Come on, my car's just around the corner."
Dash looked back and forth between the two siblings, before he caved in, too tired to put up any more resistance. He did have one stipulation, however. "Alright, I'll come with you guys. But you can't tell another soul about this. Especially at school."
"Done," Jazz answered, taking her keys out of her pocket and ushering him towards her teal convertible. Danny followed on Dash's other side, keeping a respectable distance between them.
Dash nodded, not really caring anymore that he was being willingly helped by people he bullied on a daily basis, and glanced down at the bundle in his arms. At least Pookie would get some medical attention. And at least his dad wouldn't suspect the Fentons to be hosting him. And right now, that's really all that mattered to him.
The Fentons are good people. Dash is very fortunate.
Part three coming tonight!
