The End of the Tunnel
Chapter 3
-What Meets the Eye-
"Those who are invited into another's home often don't see the blood they stand in."
Lancer didn't see the boy in school the next day, meaning that he got those fifty extra credit points. It also meant that Lancer wanted to validate his student's "completed" assignment. If that boy happened to have gone anywhere else but home, the assignment would be marked as incomplete and he would fail. If, however, the freshman stayed home to get a little rest and hopefully a little meat on those bones, then the assignment would be complete and no matter what he did at that house all day (so long as he was in it), he would pass with a 100% grade and earn those fifty extra credits points. If only the boy knew how much he needed them.
The teacher rounded the corner to face a rather...eccentric building labeled in a huge neon sign, "Fenton Works". There was no need for an address with anyone of the name "Fenton", being as their home actually laid claims to whom it belonged.
He walked up the front steps and, with an assured smile on his face, went to knock on the door...until something stopped him, his knuckles mere centimeters away from the wood. He took his hand down and pressed his ear to the door, trying to confirm having heard some sort of yelling coming from the inside.
It was only a two second wait before a shrill scream met his eardrums, which almost seemed prepared to shatter just in case it got any louder or higher-pitched. He couldn't make out whose voice it was, or even what was said, but he swore to the high heavens it sounded like, "I'M NOT!"
The smile dropped from his face to be replaced with a look of extreme concern. His concern grew to worry as he heard a giant THUMP! somewhere inside the house.
Hoping it was merely an item of little importance, he tentatively knocked on the door.
Everything fell eerily silent.
It took a few moments, but the door was finally answered and a large smiling man in a bright orange hazmat jumpsuit welcomed him in.
"You must be Mr. Lancer!" he greeted.
As Daniel's father escorted him inside, he tried to find any sign of violence, be it a mere dispute or an all-out war. The TV was unharmed; in fact it was clean as a whistle. The ceiling fan seemed in tact and, again, clean. The coffee table? Looked great. The only thing that seemed a tad out of place was the couch cushions. They were crumpled and one was even hanging out. His first thought was that Daniel had stayed home and rested, just like he was supposed to. His second thought was to listen to his gut; something wasn't entirely right here...
Just a little ways off, Daniel himself stood stiff and unmoving. In no way had he gotten rest. If he didn't rest, it was doubtful that he had even eaten (not much if at all). The boy had glazed eyes and his chest jerked as he breathed. He didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, nor did he seem to be in deep thought. He also didn't look much like he was in a trance. He just...stood there.
Upon further inspection, the freshman's skin was nearly white (as opposed to its usual tan color). His pupils were wide; a sure sign of intense emotion. He stood very stiffly, as if every muscle in his body was contracted and unwilling to relax. He was actually in a frozen stance; it looked a bit like he had been ready to do something but had put his entire body on pause. His arms were spread slightly and looking closer, his hands were slightly shaking. His knees were slightly bent, his legs spread and his figure tilted forward a bit.
This looked worse than when Lancer caught the boy around the football team. At least then he was moving. He could be cowering or running or even flinching, but he was still moving. Now it seemed as though a taxidermist had come along and stuffed him. The only sign of life within the boy was his irregular breathing.
Pulling away from the boy's father, Lancer walked up to Daniel, who barely responded. All he did was timidly look up to meet his teacher's gaze. It wasn't a matter of him being rude, it was a matter of the fact that this was all he could do.
"Daniel?" he said softly.
His student swallowed hard.
"Yes?" he croaked.
Just then, the light of Casper High walked through the door. Jasmine Fenton halted when she saw Mr. Lancer. She quickly looked at her younger brother and began to pale.
"Danny?" she breathed.
The boy snapped his head toward her and, suddenly able to move again, ran up to her. "Jazz! I...um..." An excuse in the making, the teacher noted. "I-I need help with my homework!"
His sister curtly nodded and ran off to her room, dragging her brother with her.
Danny seemed a little too willing to go into a female's room...
"Mr. Lancer," the boy's father said. "Why not stay and have dinner? We have leftover pasta. I made it myself; care to try some?"
The teacher was immediately pulled out of his thoughts concerning Daniel's odd behavior and replied, "I should actually be going. Although, I would like to have a discussion with you about your son."
The large man nodded and led his guest into the living room, a very serious expression plastered onto his face.
The two of them sat on the couch, one on either corner, and faced each other. It was Lancer who started off the conversation.
"He's been extremely fatigued lately and honestly, withdrawn. He doesn't know about this but every chance he gets, he rests under the bleachers of the school's football field. He's incredibly thin..."
"Ah, he is a little off lately. I wish I knew what was going on but he won't talk to me. Danny won't eat or sleep even though I've tried to make him," the man said.
"I see..." Mr. Lancer mumbled. "Is he depressed? Has he ever been unhappy about something?"
The man buried his head in one hand and replied, "His mother, Maddie, passed away in a car accident. He escaped unharmed, thankfully, but Maddie didn't."
That roused a bit of suspicion on the teacher's part. Didn't Daniel's father just say he didn't know what was wrong with his son? Now he was suddenly bringing up the fact that his mother had died. The boy didn't need to explain anything to be depressed about it. Something was going on here, and it was about time he found out what it was.
His student would know the answer. As a teacher, he would only need to ask him after school.
"Mr. Fenton, I really must be going now, but could you do me a favor and tell Daniel that I would like to speak with him after school tomorrow?"
The man nodded and smiled his farewells as Lancer walked out the door.
Something was going on and it wasn't an everyday problem. The house itself didn't feel comfortable enough to stay in despite being a guest in it. Something bigger was taking place in that house... Could it be a secret weapon they were working on? No, no, that couldn't be it. If it was then why would the young freshman be so...so...horrified, is what it looked like. The boy wasn't comfortable in his own home, which normally meant family problems. Could it be that something within the family was disturbed? Hopefully not but it was starting to seem that way.
That is, until Lancer remembered just how tidy it was in there. The only thing out of place was a couch cushion; that wasn't enough to say much. Still...why did the house feel so wrong? Daniel wouldn't have acted the way he did if everything was fine. The boy was tired, hungry, and now he was scared of something. No, scratch that. The boy was exhausted, starving, and terrified. He couldn't move earlier because he was petrified. Suddenly his sister came in and he had become a well-oiled machine. The strangest thing was, he had shown absolutely no hesitation in tailing her up to her room.
What was happening with that poor boy? He lacked the mirth he used to be so full of. Yes, his mother had died, but this had been going for a long time now. He should've had enough time to recover from it but be unable to sleep or eat from it? Perhaps the sleep problem could be attributed to nightmares but there was nothing to explain his eating problem. His father had even cooked pasta, probably in hopes that Daniel would eat it. Yet he wouldn't eat it...
And even more curious was the scream he had hear before entering the house. "I'm not"... What did that mean? Perhaps he had misheard it or was even reading too much into it. Yes...yes, that sounded legitimate enough.
...No. It didn't.
And he would ask the boy tomorrow after school.
And he wouldn't let him leave until he got answers.