Mars
By JadeRabbyt
"Danny was a FREAK! A freak, freak, freak, freak, FREAK! Did I tell you he attacked me once? Attacked me! And I didn't even do anything to him!"
-Dash Baxter
Dash scored fifty percent on his vocabulary test. Red marks slashed across the paper and through the illegible scribble of his answers, while an ugly '50' circled in the same color presided over the bloody mess, floating at the top of his paper like a cloud of doom. The certificate of failure would have darkened anybody's day, and Dash wrinkled his nose at the sight of it. As a foreman, his dad couldn't spell half the days in the week, yet he still made plenty of money. Who cared about spelling and definitions and all that bookwormy geek stuff?
Paulina looked over his shoulder and giggled. "Nice score, Dash." Her long black hair tickled his neck as she leaned closer. "You study hard for that?"
He smirked. "Oh yeah… Real hard." He moved forward and, before she could move, kissed her.
She jerked away and fell back into her seat. "Dash!" Paullina wiped her mouth and pouted as Dash cackled. "You jerk. You know I'm with David now."
"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."
Paullina's teal eyes glared weakly before turning their attention to more amiable company. She had been good in sophomore year, Dash remembered, and a year later she only seemed more beautiful. Too bad she was with that nerd-bag David. He'd asked Paulina about him once, figuring she must have gone crazy or something. It wasn't like her to bother with someone so low on the food chain. But when he'd asked, she'd only shrugged airily and explained that David had a great butt, was an excellent kisser, 'was so cute when he was shy,' etc. etc. All that stupid gay stuff that chicks seemed to love.
Dash had been thinking about giving Dorkster David a knuckle sandwich for some time now. Not only were geeks and nerds running wild—making the whole place that much lamer, but now they were taking all the cute girls.
"Come on class, shut up for a minute so I can earn my bread." Up at the whiteboard, Smithson slapped a dry-erase marker in his hand as he surveyed the class. "This isn't a dating service, it's the junior English class for morons, so get going."
Several football buddies chuckled as Dash dramatically, laboriously, swung himself around to face the board, slumping like a beleaguered gorilla over the worksheet Smithson had just passed out. The other kids chattered and laughed, deaf to their teacher's instruction.
"Next kid who talks gets his butt kicked by the vice principal." At that, the class began to quiet, waiting for Smithson to do whatever stupid thing he'd planned for the day. Dash hunched over the paper, tapping his blunt pencil against the desk, drilling a small hole in its surface as he pretended to concentrate.
The way Dash figured it, everything stemmed from Geek No. 1: Fenton. He'd been the first geek and he'd always been the worst geek. Dash almost felt bad about it, what with the rest of the school so shaken up, but he'd found the dweeb's tragedy hilarious. Imagine it! Fenton, the all-around well adjusted nice-guy, kills his two best buds! Served the little dweeb right, Dash thought. Unfortunately, most people didn't see it that way. Most people found the event horrific and, if they hadn't lent a hand to him, they had at least stopped bothering him. Dash didn't need a weather man to tell him which way the popular wind was blowing, so he'd kept his hands off, settling for occasional threats in the hall or some groundless, casual boasting among his friends.
Dash had sent many an underling to the dentist since then, and freshmen still squealed the best, but none of them squealed as loudly or as emphatically as Fentina. A smile crept up his face as Dash stared sightlessly at the worksheet. It had been what, two or three years now? Nobody really talked about him anymore, with pity or repugnance or anything else, for that matter. If anything, he'd disappeared in the eyes of the school.
Dash really, really hoped Fenton was fair game again, because that little bug-squat was due for a beating.
XXX
Danny thumped down the hall, the sealed letter of his semester grades dangling with pretentious ambivalence from one hand. He had a little trouble believing it. He'd stayed after school for most of freshman year for one reason or another, received countless impromptu tutoring sessions from teachers and others, and he still hadn't managed to get many grades above a B-, which, as everyone but his parents had said back then, was just fine. The letter in his hand reported a grade point average of 3.8. His only B had come from art class. The administration wanted to bump him into AP calculus next year.
"The old Fenton genes finally surfacing, eh Danny?" When Danny reported the news to his parents, Jack clapped him on the back. "I knew you could do it!"
Maddie took the report card to see his success for herself. She beamed at him. "I'm so proud of you, Danny. Great job."
"Thanks." The weird part of it was that he hadn't even tried for any of this. He'd just built his planes and done his homework and suddenly he had A's in trigonometry, physics, and auto shop. One or two other kids had asked him for help on homework, and his teachers kept a quietly happy glimmer in their eyes when he asked or answered questions. The faculty treated him differently, not with greater favor but with greater hope, yet Danny hadn't taken any advice from them or put forth any special effort. His fate changed and his reputation changed, but it seemed to Danny that he was just the same as he'd always been.
In spite of that, news of his success traveled rapidly to those who cared to hear it. One or two casual acquaintances congratulated him, and Alicia ran up to him during lunch the day after he'd talked with his parents. Her blonde hair, bunched in a bun behind her head, had missed a few errant strands that hung about her face like a thin veil. Danny resisted an urge to brush them back. "Congratulations on your grades, Danny." She grinned, clutching a textbook to her stomach.
"Thanks." When he didn't say anything more she nodded awkwardly, her smile less comfortable, and disappeared into the crowded lunchroom. Danny looked after her, watching the wriggling sardine-packed bodies in the lunch line. He definitely preferred the amiable junior year Alicia to the nosy sophomore-freshman year Alicia. She'd become familiar to him, if nothing else, and he'd be a liar if he said that her compliment hadn't improved his day.
Danny took a thoughtful bite of the pizza on his tray. Maybe he didn't feel proud of himself, but he was definitely extremely satisfied. As Danny continued on his lunch and, later, stood up to dump its remains, he never noticed the dark form of a football jock watching him, arms crossed, at a table in the corner.
XXX
At the end of the day, Danny had assignments in history and math and science, all of them due tomorrow. It figured—a boatload of homework on one of the best days he'd had all school year. Danny pulled the necessary books out of his locker and stuffed them in his crowded backpack, feeling smug in spite of the load. He probably could have gotten these grades before if he'd spent his time pulling out books instead of pulling in ghosts with that stupid thermos.
He slammed the swamp-green locker door shut and all the color drained from his face.
"Ha!"
Danny ducked just in time to avoid having his face rearranged by Dash Baxter. He leaped back, throwing his backpack to the ground. "Dash?"
"'S right, Fentina." Dash leaned jauntily against Danny's locker. "Too bad. I really wanted to see if the surgeons could reconstruct your nose."
The gears turned in Danny's head, but slowly. "You haven't bothered me in, I don't know, at least a year. What are you doing?" His former bully had a nasty little smirk and a glitter in his eyes. Danny began edging away.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Dash faked right. Danny took the bait and lunged left, where Dash's waiting foot caught him in the stomach. Although Danny had grown since freshman year, Dash still had the upper hand in physical strength. Danny doubled over gasping as the air fled from him.
Dash yanked Danny up by his collar and struck him on the chin, slamming him against the lockers. It was bad. No teacher would stop this. They had either gone home or were sitting in conferences. School had let out fifteen minutes ago, but several kids lingered in the hallways, watching. Dash pulled back for another punch, and as Danny drew his mind from its daze of ache and astonishment, brushing aside the sharp pains in his jaw and stomach, he became aware of an annoyance… An acute annoyance, that this lumbering jerk would be so stupid as to pick a fight with Danny Phantom. But not Danny Phantom, he reminded himself, Danny Fenton. He had to remember that there was no more Danny Phantom.
The annoyance persisted, a nagging taunt in the back of his head. Danny could pulverize the guy without lifting a finger, yet here was getting smashed by the jerk.
He wouldn't fight if he could help it, so that left running away and escaping. That's what he'd done in freshman year, and it had worked well then. If Danny ran, and Dash caught him and forced a confrontation… well, whatever happened after that would just be Dash's problem, wouldn't it?
Danny broke Dash's grip and jumped out of the way as a fist flew toward him, crashing against the lockers where Danny's chest had been a moment before. Dash growled and shook his pained knuckles as Danny spun free and raced down the hallway.
"Get away from me, Dash!"
Dash roared and beat a path after him. "You think you're soooo clever… Oh, look, I'm Danny Fenton with my nerdy 3.8 GPA! I'll wipe that smile right offa your face…"
They reached the stairwell. Danny crashed through the push-bar doors, swung around the aluminum railing and jumped down the steps, five at a time. He reached the middle landing, breathing heavily, and got halfway down the second flight when he heard a pregnant silence. Behind him, Danny heard the near-silent rippling of clothing and an unnaturally focused breeze.
Danny's breath caught in his throat. This was a stairwell! "DASH! Don't—"
"HAH!"
Dash hit him with a flying tackle from behind, striking Danny like a boulder in mid-step. The two crashed down the stairs to the lower floor's platform; Danny only barely caught himself with his hands as Dash slammed down on top of him. His chin cracked on the tiled floor, and Danny tasted blood in his mouth. Dash grabbed him and whipped him around so that the two were face-to-face on the white linoleum, Dash holding Danny by his jet-black hair, aiming a furious haymaker right between his eyes.
But Dash must have seen something interesting in Danny's expression, because the strike faltered. Before he could get his nerve back, Danny leaped up from the floor and yanked Dash along with him. The would-be-bully had enough time to make a small desperate noise before something started hitting his face, drawing salty blood before pausing. A breath of hope whisked through Dash at the pause but a hand like a vise grabbed his own, twisting the fingers in an unnatural position. Dash screamed as sharp blows struck his stomach, his kneecaps and shins and ribs. Tears started to his eyes; he felt the lightning-shock sensation of his dislocated arm being wrenched one last time, and then the pounding stopped and Dash collapsed on the stairwell platform as footsteps, slow and calm, retreated into an adjoining hallway, leaving him alone.
It hadn't taken longer than ten seconds. The spectators arrived at last, peering over the railing at the aching Dash below. "He must have fallen down the stairs," they said.
XXX
Danny was working on a brake job when Kwan came up to him in auto shop the next day. He waited as Danny drew fluid from a cylinder under the open hood, waiting with his hands in his pockets while Danny bent down to remove the wheels of the jacked-up car. "So… I guess something happened to Dash the other day."
He reached for a nearby tire wrench, applying it gruffly to the rusted lug nuts. "Did it?"
"Yeah." Kwan examined an odd-looking tool Danny had been using. "They say uh, they say that he was chasing you when it happened."
"Did they." An air of coldness lingered in his tone.
"Yeah." Kwan watched as Danny got the wheel off, inspected the antiquitated brakes, pinched the rubber parts as he checked for wear. "Hey, you're pretty good at this stuff." Kwan himself still didn't know the difference between disc brakes and drum brakes. "Your parents auto mechanics?"
"My dad."
"Hm."
Danny frowned at the rubber parts he'd been examining. "Cracked. I'm surprised the parking brake still works."
"Yeah, really." Kwan had no idea what Danny was talking about. "So, did you do it?"
Danny paused in his work, turning to look up at Kwan from his kneeling position on the floor. "Do what?" His ice-blue eyes narrowed, a hint of suspicion lingering there. Danny might have looked intimidating were it not for the doofy shop glasses everybody had to wear, big plastic things that hung over the eyes like mini-windshields.
Kwan grinned. "Bust up Dash. Did you?"
"Maybe. Hey, could you see if Halthorn has any spare dust boots for this junker?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what they are."
Danny laughed, returning his attention to the car. "At least you're honest."
"Yeah. I'm good at honesty. Not a whole lot else, though."
Danny picked a cloth off the hood of the car and started swiping at rust and dust of the parts around where the wheel had been, lying on his back and scooting under the car for a better angle. "Do you need help with anything? I could give you a hand, and it's too late in the class period to start anything serious on these brakes, anyway."
Kwan shook his head. "Nah. I just wanted to tell you… good job. On Dash, I mean. He's had it coming for a while now, and everybody knows it must have been the fall that really finished him, and that's too bad, but…" Kwan winked and gave him a thumbs-up.
To his surprise, Danny didn't agree. He fooled with the brakes for a second longer before pitching the rag to the ground. Danny stood, wiping greasy hands on his white shop coat. "I don't know about that."
"A lot of us do. You did a good job on him, man."
"I don't like having to fight the gorilla on his terms."
"Even though you kicked his butt at it."
"Yup. I guess I did." Danny smiled with something like regret; it puzzled Kwan. "I have to check on something." Danny walked away before he could press the issue, moving over to the work benches against the wall where Halthorne was showing kids how to install piston rings.
Kwan glanced down at the wheelless car beside him, wondering how Danny knew so well what to do for it. That kid knew everything these days, and he was mellow in the knowing. Despite his former reputation as a geek and as a victim, Danny was—not popular, exactly—but definitely respected by mostly everybody, even if he wasn't best buddies with any of them. He was one of the few 'real' people out there.
Kwan smiled. No wonder Dash had always had it in for the Danny. He was probably jealous.
XXX
AP Calculus was kind of easy, not that Danny ever admitted that to anybody. His class didn't go over many proofs, which had been an Achilles' heel for him since forever, and they mostly worked on memorizing equations for practical applications. Nobody completely understood the formulae, but the teacher made sure that everybody knew how to use them, and that took an effort on her part. Her students hadn't seen any math like this before, and the curling integrals and d-shaped differentials baffled them at first. Danny picked it up naturally after a couple weeks. He enjoyed the problems because they were so easy for him to visualize. Differential equations reminded him of velocity, volume and area of canisters being sliced. By translating equations into pictures, he got by with a B average. Danny didn't sit at the top of the class, but he was also a long way from the bottom.
Mrs. Lows taught the class, which was a mixed blessing. Lows, with her motherly demeanor and sharp eyes, could tell when her students 'just didn't get it' and was adept at diagnosing and curing their ignorance. Going over things step by step, marking numbers and quick diagrams on her overhead projector, she made the class 'get it' while showing Danny the shapes he needed to visualize in order to solve the problems. To his disadvantage, her sense for trouble was just as incisive as her mathematical acumen. Most kids had either forgotten or, like the underclassmen, never learned of Danny misfortune, but Mrs. Lows remembered it every time she looked at him. He didn't appreciate the sympathy, and he dreaded one-on-one conversations with her.
Near the end of his senior year, he was shoved into just that circumstance. She'd as good as tricked him, calling him up to collect his graded test instead of just passing it out. The rest of the students were talking about their own scores, not paying any attention to the dark-haired kid at the teacher's desk except maybe to roll their eyes at yet another of his assumed A's.
"Great job, Danny." Lows had the kind of eyes that twinkled when she smiled. It made Danny uncomfortable.
"Thanks." He looked down to see a bold "91" circled at the top of his paper. He turned to go back to his desk.
"You're doing very well in this class."
Usually she didn't talk for too long. Danny figured he'd humor the person in charge of his grades, even though it hardly mattered in the second semester of his senior year. "I like this class. It's interesting."
Lows chuckled. "Not many kids say that." Danny shrugged. She smiled, leaning her elbows on the cluttered desk. "So, what are you doing next year?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't decided yet." He hated that question.
"Danny, it's April! I was sure you'd know what you were doing. Some of these other kids, well…" She waved them aside, dismissing them with a sigh. "But you, I'd think you'd have some idea."
"I've been considering the Air Force, I guess." Not seriously considering it, but he had given it a little thought.
"Oh that's right! You build all those model planes, don't you? I think I saw one of yours the other day. Big red bi-plane?"
"That's one of mine, yes."
"Wow. It must have taken some skill. All those parts… I could never do it. I bet you'd do really well in the Air Force."
"Right." Danny flashed a fake smile and walked back to his desk.
XXX
The stars glimmered like diamonds in the sky overhead. He couldn't see many of them, the bright stage lights glanced off flimsy clouds and hid some in a white mist, but those he could see shone brilliantly.
Danny looked back at the podium, the golden tassel of his graduation hat tickling against his ear at the movement. Principal Ishiyama was still speaking, thundering out the closing remarks, noting how promising they all were, how brightly their futures shone. The floodlights above glimmered off the black gowns of all three hundred graduates, turning them into a rippling sea of what Ishiyama probably considered to be success. Beyond the stage sat the seniors in their gowns and lawn chairs, and beyond them lay a short, naked strip of grass that served as a boundary between the seniors and the bleachers which were packed with proud parents, relatives, friends and neighbors. Danny could see them without much strain if he turned his head just to his shoulder. As Ishiyama wrapped up, the audience behind him held still and silent, a crowd of blinking human statues, shrunken by distance. A hill vaulted up behind the bleachers, and trees stained to ink-black bristles clung to its side as they struck out into the dim fabric of the night, reaching for the so-faint light of the Sun whose glow still hung obstinately to the very top of the hill.
The clapping broke through Danny's reverie. Everybody started cheering; the graduates around him stood up and flung off their hats, diplomas in hand, smiles on their faces. A whirl of chaos. Danny stood up with them, hardly feeling real, taking each step as if the next would carry him off into a space of colors, emotions, and formless undefinables. His friends were missing.
Punch and food, congratulations and hand-shakes and back-slaps and a thousand exchanged words that meant little to him.
"Isn't this great? We're finally out of here!"
"Yes." Danny lifted his punch glass. "Finally!" Then the kid would move on to more garrulous companions and leave Danny alone with his thundering family. Jazz was there, and she had taken a day off from college to make it. She'd tried to talk to him earlier, but Danny had brushed her off. She'd hadn't pressed him, noting that he was far more well adjusted than when she'd left. He still didn't think she was comfortable with him, but Jazz had pronounced her brother a victorious trooper anyway.
Later that evening, when people began to wander off to go home or party or whatever it was they did, Danny was about ready to follow his parents to the car when he was accosted by somebody who knew he wasn't a victorious trooper in the slightest.
"The AIR FORCE? You're going to the AIR FORCE?"
Danny winced, motioning to Alicia to lower her voice. "Come on, just about everybody knew that before they announced it tonight."
"I didn't." Danny was startled to see that she was on the verge of tears.
"What's wrong?" He hated to see her so upset. Alicia was a great girl, and she'd made herself beautiful for graduation night, fixing her hair and adding makeup, her features refined and sculpted.
Her golden eyes drilled into him. "You're wrong. You shouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not who you are!" Alicia looked desperately up at him. "The Air Force… It's just people bossing you around all day!"
Danny had spent most of the last couple months avoiding this exact conversation with dozens of other people, but here it was anyway. "Look, don't make this any harder than it already is."
"Danny." Alicia touched his hand, her features softening at the sight of his discomfort. "What… Why…?"
"I don't know." He cast another look at the sky. If you wanted to know what a star held, all you needed was a pair of eyes and a ship with a good enough engine. "Because it's easy, that's why."
Alicia shook her head. "That reason sucks."
"It does." Danny smiled. Reaching over, he brushed a speck of dust off her black graduation gown, unzipped to show the sapphire satin dress she wore beneath. "But it works. I like planes."
She slapped his hand away, meeting his eyes critically. "Me too. But I'm not joining the army."
"Nope. You're going to college."
"Just like all the sane students." Danny chuckled, but he knew Alicia was only half joking. "What are you going to do. You're going to go kill people, that's what you're going to do." Danny's expression darkened, but Alicia caught herself before he could protest. "No, I know, that was out of line."
He sighed and glanced back at his car. "Look, it's been a great year, but I have to go now."
"Wait." Alicia caught his arm. Danny looked at her, wondering what she wanted, why she'd called him over in the first place. He saw her eyes were sad, mouth tight, not angry, but disappointed?
"I'll miss you," she said.
For a reason he couldn't fathom, Danny felt cold. His knees weakened under him. "I…" He stopped. Not only were his knees unreliable, but suddenly he had no breath to speak with. Danny met Alicia's eyes—her breath had gone as well. He stepped closer, into the universe of feeling, and kissed her. The kiss came and passed in an instant, but time stopped in that instant. He pulled away and held her hands, his own ice cold in her hot touch. He felt things he couldn't afford to understand or acknowledge.
"Thank you," he tried. "For… being there."
Alicia smiled. A tear leaked out her eye, down her cheek. Danny drew it off, his finger leaving the ghost of a touch on her cheek, holding her hand for a second longer. He looked back only once as he walked away, just before he stepped into his family's waiting car. Alicia was still standing there, her arms hanging powerlessly by her sides.
A/N: Well, the only thing I can say to this atrociously long update time is that good things come to those who wait. At least, I hope this was a good thing. Let me know. I've been goofing with the style again, and feedback is a critical part of the JadeR update engine. Target date for next chapter: one week.
