Okay, here you go, babies~! I worked fo'evah on this one, and I like how it turned out... but I also really like writing violence. //_. It's Wednesday, yes, and I meant to publish this by 4 pm today (as opposed to just after 8pm instead) but I had more than 60 vocab definitions to do, a geometry assignment (my calculator was completely dead so I had to do hand work! DX), and I had to finish a school essay. Yeah. An essay. AND, I finished this bitch. Be happy. lol.

Lewis Carroll is the rightful owner and creator of the quote and reference to "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland". I make no claim that they belong to me, but I wanted to make sure that it's just a loving dedication. So, I'm off. Thanks so much for reading, enjoy~!:

What happened? Was the only thought running through Danny's head as he opened his eyes, disorientated and exhausted in his bedroom. Next to him was the sleeping form of Tucker Foley, a bit too close and looking tres relaxed. But, he didn't remember Tucker even coming over last night. Let's see… there was detention… then… mom and dad talked to me… Then, Dash and I hung out… but what happened after that? I said goodbye to Dash, came home… then… Tucker came over? What?

He was lost. He almost wanted to wake Tucker up to ask him about it, but when he saw that it was way too early to even get ready for school, he decided against it. Instead, he lay his head back down and got comfortable. Wow, the bags under Tuck's eyes have never been this bad. I guess this is worse for him than he lets on… Then again, I only have to deal with Sam, she only has to deal with me, but Tuck has got both of us on him like harpies. I wonder what him and Sam talk about… more like, I wonder what Sam talks about while Tucker listens.

He sighed. Dash, how can I get over this with Sam if I can't even think of her without getting angry? You don't understand at all….

"Dude, Danny—Get up."

"hmm?"

"Time for school, man. Come on. Wake up—let's go," Tucker said, standing over a re-awoken Danny. He was in clothing different than the last night, though Danny himself didn't know that. His beret was still missing from his outfit, but Danny only wondered what time he fell back asleep and the current time as he sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. Part of him considered asking Tucker when and why he'd come over at some point yesterday, but the rest of him said to pretend that he could remember. Don't need Tucker thinking I'm being secretive and insane…

"How're you ready? Did you bring your stuff here?" Danny asked him, getting out of bed and stretching his back.

"What? No—you know I didn't have anything with me last night. I ran home this morning, made sure the 'rents are alright. They are," he smiled. Sitting on the bed and waiting for Danny to get ready. Staring at Danny's ceiling was always a great pastime.

"You really should've waken me up; I'd give you a ride there and save you a half hour of walking," Dann smiled back.

"Nah. You ready? Let's go."

A few minute later, Danny and Tucker were on the sidewalk, making their way to the government mandated educational learning facility known as Casper High School.

Gym class. Awesome. Danny sighed as he walked into the locker room for his second period of the day. He'd be in a driving program soon, but not soon enough for him. He panned his view, looking for someone; anyone he knew that didn't hate his guts while setting his stuff down. The thought "what a waste of time" didn't even pass though his head before he was struck from behind, sending him crashing into the lockers and onto the floor. He threw his hands forward, barely breaking his fall and nearly breaking a wrist. He turned to look at his attacker, and for some reason, was not surprised to see Dash Baxter looming over his figure like Death himself. He bore a smile that Danny recognized, and Danny bore a grimace that Dash recognized.

"Hey, Fentina," Dash said forebodingly, bending down and grabbing Danny by the scruff of his collar and raising him to eye level, "How're you doin'?"

"I… I'm… " Danny faltered. Attempting to say anything back was getting more and more difficult as embarrassment and terror started to come together and fuse into a hideous brown shade of mojo that Danny had to use to fight Dash. Dash placed Danny down, (he then nearly stumbled from the unexpected gravity), and looked at him long and hard. By now, Kwan and other jocks had started to gather, not forming a circle so much as forming a wall behind Danny to prevent teacher viewing of this elegant charade.

"Fenton, I'm going to give you a chance today, because I'm in a good mood. Alright?" Dash asked, a hand on his hip and leaning in far too close to Danny in this situation.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Dash asked, his grin spreading across his face. Maybe Fenton will know the answer. If yes, good. If not, then oh well; he could use a broken arm.

Danny's eyes went wide at the mention of this riddle. He knew the story: Lewis Carroll never gave it an answer.

"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.
"No, I give it up," Alice replied. "What's the answer?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said the Hatter.
"Nor I," said the March Hare.
Alice sighed wearily. "I think you might do something better with the time," she said, "than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers."

Danny bit his lip and swallowed hard. He looked at Dash, cleared his throat and said, "Because the notes for which they are noted are not noted for being musical notes."

A grin broke across his face, replacing the terror that was there before. "…or is it because you can't ride either one like a bicycle?" he asked. Take that, Dash. You can't outwit me.

Dash stood, dumbfounded, amazed at Danny's answer. His eyes were wide now, and Danny was the one smirking. He recognized this and brought himself out of the thought when the kids around him started whispering.

"You think you're clever, Fenton?" Dash asked, irritation present in the words he spoke. His voice replaced any and all other sound in the room immediately. It was dominant, definite, and suave; any of them could be applied to Dash's voice and all would be correct. In this silence, Dash reached forward, once again taking Danny and lifting the boy off of his feet. All the exercise and ghost fighting in the world couldn't give him the physique and overall bulk that Dash had. His hands were over Dash's, trying to pull him off and struggling to breathe.

"Well?" Dash asked him, getting riled up by the boy surrounding and cheering him on. He jerked Danny in his place, reminding him to answer the question.

"Sure," he said weakly, adjusting himself in Dash's grasp, "…but only if I'm being compared to the person who asked me."

The crowd gave a low "ooh", but Dash's angry expression shut them up pretty fast. He looked at Danny and sneered, his embarrassment obvious on his face. Do all losers feel the need to be a smartass like Fenton is, or is it just him?

Danny knew that there was some feral instinct present inside of Dash—there had to be. It came out when he played football; it came out when he beat him up. Alongside that raw ferociousness that Danny saw daily was a sadist. There was no denying it; even if he only ever released it when Danny Fenton was in sight, it was there. A sick, twisted creature that's only pleasure was watching Danny hurt in any way possible. How could someone like that have anything good inside of them? Dash could be sweet. Danny knew that. He was kind, thoughtful, a good listener—he was mellow and a laid-back guy. Yet Dash Baxter, that very same Dash Baxter, stood there dangling Danny eight inches off of the ground with his mouth pulled tight into a hateful frown. It'd all passed by in less than a minute, this whole situation. Danny couldn't help but feel every tiny fraction of time pass, as if Clockwork himself had turned a dial, slowing down the passage of time just for him.

Dash sneered, Danny thought this, and then before Danny could bat an eyelash, Dash set Danny down, spun him in his place and kicked him to the ground as forcefully as he could. The crowd behind him parted and he felt all eyes on him as he fell so slowly through the air, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to bring his arms forward to catch himself. It was no use, he realized all too late as the sides of his face were the first to connect with the cement floor: his temple, his cheekbone, his shoulder, then the bounce back, his arms landing and lifting him the slightest bit back. His lip had torn open, releasing blood and a good amount of pain that, added to his soon to be formed bruises and possible concussion, made for a nice addition to his nearly faded black eye; which he expected to make a comeback appearance by seventh period.

His eyes flickered open like an old movie projector starting up, seeing in just black and white. He lifted his hand to his face and felt his lip, assessing the damage done. He'd only just barely touched the pads of his fingers to his lower lip when he was yanked back up, cutting off his sigh and making him scramble for a second in the air before being forced onto his knees by a forceful hand from behind him. He wasn't there for even a moment before someone's sneaker, a vicious and angry dog, came at him with force from the right, sending him crashing into the lockers. He cried out but stifled it, biting his lip and throwing his arms to the spot on his side in agony.

He didn't know who had done it, not that it mattered much. Dash stood there, laughing like the rest of them as Danny, weak and trembling, was trying to lift himself back onto his feet.

"Is being clever worth it? Huh, Fenton?" Dash taunted, pushing Danny over once again onto the bench he'd just been introduced to.

Dash looked at him for a long moment. His shirt was ripped and dirty and the sleeve had blood on it, his own blood no doubt. It came from his eye or his cheek, which were bleeding more now that he was sitting still. The palms of his hands had blood on them as well, but it may have just been from somewhere else, rubbed off. He sat there, clutching his side where he'd been hit and he trembled, his ragged breathing inaudible over the laughter of the kids around him. I almost feel bad for the kid—he's being brave, Dash thought to himself.

"I'm not clever…" Danny wheezed, "'clever' and 'smarter than you' are two entirely different things…"

That stupid little… Dash grabbed Danny, lifted him to his eye level and struck him as hard as he could, right across his face. Danny flew back against the lockers, the crowd going silent before erupting into shouts and calls and noises of all calibers. Dash looked around and smiled, high fives and impressed comments made him nearly instantly forget about Danny. He turned to walk out into the gym, taking with him his entire posse. The swinging door of the locker room closed, and the silence that resonated out was broken by the only boy left in there.

Danny Fenton sat up against the locker room bench: aching, bleeding, crying, and broken. He hated crying. Crying is for kids without super powers, he thought as a salty tear ran down his cheek. He let his head fall back onto the seat of the bench and closed his eyes, miserable and in nearly blinding pain, wondering why it was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never just keep his comments to himself.

Poor Danny... that hurt to write... kind of :P I promise that next chapter will be worth reading (if you catch my drift. If not, then whatever, you're stupid. lol.), so stay tuned for that. Please, please review for me, you KNOW I love it sooooo much! I'll keep you entertained as long as you promise the same!

P.S.- This chapter was dedicated to one Benjamin John, who ATE MY CUPPYCAKE'S FROSTING YOU STUPID MEAN WHORE~! Ahem. Yeah... he's been helping me out, and he loves the love. lol. This one was for you, love.