Title: Astronaut

Author: Zalein

Total Chapters: 10

Word-count: 23,202

Genre: General/Drama

Characters: Danny F., Sam M.

Rating: T for language.

Summary: "I want to be an astronaut," Danny said automatically.

Author's Note: I already have all the chapters typed up and saved on my computer. I'll be posting them one at a time, about once a week. : ) Enjoy the ride!

I'm posting two chapters tonight, partly to make up for that week I lost, and partly because even I have to admit that chapter six was pretty uneventful.


CHAPTER SEVEN

"Your paper's glowing," Mr. Lancer pointed out, looking a little uneasy.

"Yeah, it is," acknowledged Danny, having been asked about it several times already.

"Is that safe?"

"Well, Jazz started glowing when I asked her to hold it, but I think our Fenton-Oven's processing radiation fixed that," said Danny, rubbing tired eyes. Mr. Lancer's own eyes, which were wide open, grew even wider. Danny quickly smiled. "Just kidding!" he said. He wasn't, really, but it would stop Mr. Lancer from staring at his paper like it might suddenly grow teeth and try to eat him. Sure, there was a distinct possibility that it just might try, but Danny had used the oven on it, hadn't he?

Mr. Lancer only slightly relaxed at Danny's assurance, and carefully put the paper down on the corner of his desk farthest from him.

Danny watched him. "I'm pretty sure it's safe to handle, Mr. Lancer. Very sure."

"Indeed."

Danny nodded and turned to leave. "See you tomorrow, then."

Mr. Lancer nodded. Before Danny was halfway across the room, however, he suddenly looked up and called, "Daniel, could you wait a moment?"

Danny stopped and turned back. "Uh, sure, but my next class is starting soon, so…"

Mr. Lancer waved a hand dismissively. "If it takes that long I'll write you an excuse."

"Okay," said Danny slowly, heading back towards his teacher's desk.

The man put his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. "Before class started today Mrs. Stravinsky took me aside and asked me a few questions about your wellbeing… Do you know why she might do that?"

Danny folded his arms, just barely keeping from groaning. "She thinks I'm not sleeping enough because I have trouble at home. But I don't, I just have insomnia, and it's nothing to worry about, I swear."

Mr. Lancer's eyebrows rose. "I believe you, Daniel. I've met your parents, and I've had more than a handful of students who've had, ah, difficult sleeping habits, as well."

Danny heaved a sigh in relief. "Thanks, Mr. Lancer.

"My pleasure, Danny. What I wanted to talk about was that when I spoke with her, she got me asking myself a few questions about you. Mainly along the lines of, 'Is there anything you need that I can give you to help you raise your grades?'"

Danny thought about late night chases through swarms of flying packaging-boxes, and tree-shaped coat racks that disappeared and glowed. "Thanks Mr. Lancer, but I don't think there's anything you can do…" he said slowly. His gaze snapped back to the present, and he gave his teacher a slightly confused look. "Everyone's been asking me if I need help or something—did the counselor say anything to you all, or something? Why now?"

Mr. Lancer shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "She hasn't said anything to me about offering to help you, but…" Danny watched his teacher collecting his thoughts and fought the urge to fidget uncomfortably. "… do you remember the beginning of your first year at Casper High, Danny?"

The boy did fidget now. "Not really. I remember my friends and I had a lot of fun in classes, though Dash had started picking on us then."

Mr. Lancer nodded. "You were getting better grades than Mr. Baxter was. All three of you were, in fact, but you were showing yourself to be exceptionally bright." He smiled warmly at his student, who looked embarrassed but pleased by the praise. "You would ask questions that some of your teachers had never been asked before. English wasn't your favorite subject, but even I could see you enjoyed learning."

Danny looked at his teacher's desk, taking it all in silently. Most of what he remembered from that year had to do with the first part being blissfully ghost-free and the second part riddled with ghost problems left and right. It was a little strange listening to a version that had no ghost-stories in it at all.

Mr. Lancer looked at his student for a long moment before continuing, sounding suddenly tired. "Some time towards the end of the first semester your grades took a nosedive. You weren't really the same student you were before, but your teachers remembered that once you'd been interested. Now that you're showing interest again… I suppose we're hoping that you might enjoy learning again." Danny blinked and looked up at him, and the man shrugged, as though at a loss for anything else to say.

"But I do like learning," Danny said blankly. "I'm just usually too tired to do it right, so it's hard."

"Then we're hoping you'll find the energy for it to come easily, again," Mr. Lancer amended simply.

"Oh." Danny nodded slowly to himself, a little surprised that the idea of him having been 'smart' was so hard to fit in his self-image. He was always getting bad grades, and he was never really the best at anything… Anything except fighting ghosts and finding all new ways to defeat them. Yes, when it came to ghost hunting, Danny was better at that than anyone else.

Sensing that his student was quickly becoming wrapped up in his own thoughts, Mr. Lancer leaned back in his chair and glanced up at a wall-clock. "You still have a couple of minutes until your next class, Danny. Do you want a hall-pass, or do you think you can make it?"

Danny looked at the clock and shook his head. "No thanks, I'll get there in time." A few seconds ticked by, and he made no move to go. "Hey, uh, Mr. Lancer… thanks."

The man's eyebrows rose. "For what?"

Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "You know, for teaching me. And stuff."

Guessing that the 'and stuff' had more to do with what had just been said than anything else, Mr. Lancer smiled at his student again. "Any time, Danny."

"Yeah," said Danny, "so… right. I'll see you next class." With that said, he quickly left to go to his next subject.


Unfortunately for Danny, Math class wasn't as nearly a pleasant experience as Mr. Lancer's class had been. It had started with their graded tests being handed out, and when Mr. Smith had called Danny's name he'd watched his student approach with an unreadable look. Danny, a little wary under the scrutiny, had waited until he was seated before looking at the grade. The paper's corner crinkled almost immediately around the 'F' as Danny clenched it in anger, remembering how he'd fallen asleep and left half the questions blank. He folded the test and slipped it between the pages of his textbook to store until later, and it was a struggle to keep from snatching it back out and tearing it in two.

After the tests were handed out Danny had to fight to keep still, because the class had suddenly become one of the most irritating classes he'd been to all year. Each question asked by a classmate seemed loud and careless, even when it was just Tucker asking about a new equation's variable. The air was too hot, the teacher was too slow to answer, the grade hidden in his book was too present on his mind, and he was too tired to do anything besides wonder if math had really ever been as easy for him as Mr. Lancer had said it was.

After the Longest Class of the Year had finally finished, Danny found himself waiting (very reluctantly) for the other students to leave. As soon as there were only about two students left, Danny marched to the front of the class, and asked in the most controlled voice he had, "Mr. Smith, is there some way I can re-take the test? I can do the problems just fine, but I fell asleep while we were taking it."

Mr. Smith looked at him through his square glasses, and Danny knew he was only barely keeping from glaring back at his teacher's unforgiving gaze. "I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't help it if you fell asleep during the test. You're not supposed to be sleeping in class one way or another—perhaps next time you'll be able to keep it from happening again, hmm?"

Danny stood there for a moment, but he was too angry to think of an acceptable reply to say. He managed to grit out a 'thank you' that he didn't care if his teacher heard or not and strode towards the door without another word. He passed Mr. Lancer, who was on his way in, but just then he wasn't in the mood to give even his favorite teacher a greeting, instead making a beeline for his locker. His mood was foul enough that he didn't see the foot stuck out in front of him in time, and he tripped spectacularly. In his tumble he dropped his books, hit his head on the floor, and lost his pen in the forest of legs that was suddenly eye-level with him.

Dash's shoes came into view. "Did you have a nice trip, Fenturd?" There was a pause, and Danny heard a loose page being pulled free from his fallen book. He didn't see it happen because he was jerkily pushing himself to his knees, focusing on feeling his head for any serious injuries. There were none, though Dash's voice was definitely making his headache worse. "Geeze, Fentina, no wonder you're so clumsy—if you're as stupid as this then it's amazing you can tie your own shoelaces!" Some of Dash's friends—also football players—chuckled darkly at his joke.

Danny pushed himself to his feet, not bothering to look for his pen. He stood to his full, unremarkable height and held a hand out to Dash, who was holding Danny's book and test. "Give it back, Dash."

"Now why would I want to do that?" Dash smirked, looking very comfortable in the space the hallway of students had instinctively drawn away from. "After all, you shouldn't go throwing your books around like that, Fentoni. It's not very nice."

"Give it back now, Dash!" Danny snapped, too angry to care that he was showing weakness by rising to their bait.

"Or what, you'll tackle me?" Dash mocked. Cronies attached to letterman jackets laughed out loud, now, watching the goings-on and finding them worthy of ridicule.

Danny clenched his fists. "Not today, Dash—give me my damned book back now or I'll do more than just tackle you!"

The quarterback found the very idea of that hilarious, and started to laugh. "Good one, Fentonoodle—make sure you're strong enough to hold your book first, though, or you might hurt yourself getting over here!" More of the crowd broke into laughter, and Danny gritted his teeth so hard that they hurt. Just as he was about to lunge forward and do something to wipe Dash's smirk off his face, a sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Alright, break it up!" Mr. Lancer was striding through the crowds with a look that brooked no argument. Mr. Smith wasn't far behind him. "Anyone caught staying here after the bell rings goes straight to detention after school." The crowd started to disperse. Dash thrust the book so hard at Danny that he almost doubled over, barely straightening up in time to glimpse Dash's already disappearing form.

"What are you all waiting for? Time's running out!" Mr. Smith teacher barked sharply, and the hall started emptying more quickly. Satisfied with a job well done, he turned to the classroom while Mr. Lancer lingered in the hallway.

"Are you alright, Danny?" the teacher asked, looking concerned.

Danny didn't look up, his knuckles white from their grip on the book he was holding. "Yeah," he said shortly, walking to his locker and practically yanking it open.

Mr. Lancer nodded slowly, sensing that his student didn't want to discuss it. Instead of pressuring him further, he turned and disappeared back into the Math classroom. Danny ignored him, putting his book and test in the locker. His mind was still on the fight, though, so it was several long seconds before he realized he was glaring at his textbooks without processing which one he needed next.

He sighed, reviewing his schedule in his head before choosing the proper book and taking it out. The hall was starting to empty around him as students hurried this way and that, anxious to reach their next classes on time. Danny knew he should probably join them, but he also knew that if he tried going now he'd only wind up snapping again at the first minor irritation he found.

Because he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn't notice the Math classroom door open until Mr. Smith spoke up. "Danny, do you have an excuse for falling asleep in my class?" he asked warily.

Danny stared up at him, his mind having trouble making the 180 degree turn from all-consuming frustration to believable-excuse-finding. 'What does he want me to say?' Danny wondered angrily. 'That I stayed up half the night hunting some psychotic ghost downtown when everyone else was asleep? Fat chance of that!'

Mr. Smith watched his student for a few more seconds before he checked his watch, doing a poor job of hiding his irritation behind a frown. "Mr. Fenton, your other teachers have been telling me about your sudden change of heart to try and improve your grades. In hopes that we can encourage this trend, and that you will keep trying to improve, you may retake your test tomorrow afternoon. Is that understood?"

Still dazed by the sudden turn of events and the adrenaline from the barely-avoided fight, Danny forced himself to nod and say, "Yes, sir."

His teacher didn't look convinced, and his head twitched a little as though fighting an urge to glance back into the room. "Good. Come here after school is out and I'll have a test ready."

Since he was still caught between deciding if he liked the second chance or disliked having to do the work all over again, Danny nodded jerkily and hurried away from the Worst Period of Class Ever as fast as he could.