He stood awkwardly still in the doorway as all eyes turned to face him. Accusing glares bore holes into his forehead.
"Ah Mr. Baxter, how nice of you to finally join us this fine Monday morning," Mr. Lancer greeted him. Buster took a deep breath and stepped in, his presence quickly forgotten by his peers.
He quietly made his way to his seat, shrinking down into it, trying to disappear. He didn't want to be here. The air in the room was suffocating. An eerie feeling prickled at the back of his neck since the moment he left the house. People were staring at him; they knew. He wanted to go back to Elwood city. He hated this place.
Last night was a blur. He couldn't remember much, the only thing that filled his memories was blood. Lots and lots of blood. And Danny.
How had Danny survived? Who was he hiding from? What had he done? What had Buster done? He helped someone who admitted to committing a crime. Buster was harbouring a criminal. Had he done the right thing? That question haunted him all night as he lay awake in bed.
Of course he had done the right thing, he couldn't just hand his injured friend over to the police now could he? Nor could he have left him there to fend for himself. He would have died.
But now what? Buster couldn't hide behind the false innocence written on Danny's face or the lies his smiling eyes told him. He couldn't pass the whisperings that followed the boy around as mere rumors. He had seen a side of his life he had never wanted to know. Could he just stay quiet? Buster was never good at keeping secrets.
Letting his head slip out of his palms and hit the desk, he groaned softly. He missed his mom. She would have known exactly what he should do. Picturing her face as she listened to his dilemma and gave him advice in her guiding sort of way, Buster's eyes glistened. His breathing hitched. He couldn't cry. Not here.
"Mr. Baxter?" at the sound of his name, Buster raised his head. His heart beat sped up, he hadn't been paying an ounce of attention. He was going to sound like a complete idiot on his first day back. Great, icing to top the cake.
"Are you alright? Do you need to go to the Nurse?" Mr. Lancer asked instead of a pressing question about his lesson.
Buster let out a sigh of relief before offering the man a grateful smile. "No, Thank you Mr. Lancer. I'm fine."
The man studied him for a moment before nodding and returning to his lesson. Leaning back onto the plastic chair, Buster attempted listening, but his mind was elsewhere.
He wondered if Wes had come to school. Was Danny all alone? Would he even be there when he came to check up on him? What about Danny's parents, they were probably worried sick. How much did Sam and Tucker even know? Why had he chosen Wes' house as a hideout in the first place? Who would shoot and stab a sixteen year-old? Would first-aid really be enough for bullet and knife wounds? What if there was internal damage? Danny could still die. Buster was going to go insane.
There was a sharp authoritative knock on the classroom door, Buster looked up curiously. Glad for the distraction, he shook the thoughts out of his head as he watched Mr. Lancer answer the door. Two large men stood in the doorway. Both wore identical bored expressions, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Dressed completely in stark white suits.
Buster had never seen these guys before, but at the sight of them, sweat trickled down his face. The room's suffocating air condensed further. An eruption of murmurs sounded all around him. Buster tuned them all out.
"Good Morning sir, agent K and agent O of the Guys in White," the black man introduced professionally, "we would like to ask you and your class for a few moments of your time, if you don't mind."
"Actually, I do mind," Mr. Lancer replied defiantly, "we are in the middle of an important lesson."
The agents pushed him aside and made their way in to the classroom. "You don't really have a say. That was merely a formality."
Gaping at the rude behaviour, Mr. Lancer stood to the side, eyes narrowed. Buster wanted to leave. He couldn't see their eyes, but he knew they were staring straight at him.
Hands behind their back, they walked around the room. Glancing critically at every student. Searching for someone. Once they got back to the front of the classroom, the white one, cleared his throat. "I'm sure you are all familiar with the ghost known as Phantom."
Buster's heart skipped a beat. Phantom? Who were these guys?
"We are aware you kids seem to idolize him as a hero of some sort, however, please be advised that this is far from the truth. Phantom is a highly dangerous entity."
Buster furrowed his brows.
"If any one of you children have come into recent contact with the Spector, come forward. The GIW would be appreciative of your cooperation," he continued as he made his way around passing out business cards.
"It is for your own good. Harbouring information will not be in your best interest. I assure you, we will eventually find out," the other one threatened.
Buster looked down at the card and gulped. He didn't know what these government goons wanted with Phantom, but it didn't look good.
"If you are done harassing my students, I would like to continue my lesson before the bell rings," Mr. Lancer interrupted, his foot tapping against the tiled floor impatiently.
"Not so fast, we still have one more order of business."
Lancer rolled his eyes as he waited for them to continue. Buster watched as the agent opened up a file folder he had been carrying and retrieved what looked to be a photo. "Do you know this boy?"
Buster couldn't see the picture, but as he witnessed his teacher's eyes widen, he paled. "Mr. Fenton? Well of course I do, he's the son of Amity's resident ghost hunters."
NO, No, no, no, no. His body went numb, he was going to throw up. How was he going to lie to government agents?! What had Danny done!
"Have you seen him within the last 12 hours?"
Mr. Lancer scratched his chin, "I can't say I have, but I don't teach him anymore. He's a junior."
Putting the photo back into place, the agents nodded. "We are aware of the fact but are required to perform a school wide search for the boy. He is believed to be a threat. Be alert of his presence." They advised solemnly.
An incredulous look broke out on his teachers face, "Gone With the Wind! Mr. Fenton is just a child, agents, not a threat!" he exclaimed.
With unwavering expressions, they turned away. "We beg to differ. Good day."
Buster was sweating buckets. The situation was a lot worse than he originally thought.
"I knew that guy was sketchy," a girl from behind him whispered to someone who hummed in agreement. The accusatory murmuring grew into a low rumble, trapping him within its walls. He felt some people look his way, his friendship with Danny was no secret.
Waiting for the agents to shut the door behind them, he shot his hand up in to the air.
"Yes Mr. Baxter?" Lancer sighed.
"Can I take up that offer to go to the Nurse? I don't feel so good," he croaked.
With a worried frown, he nodded. Buster didn't wait for any further instruction. Grabbing his stuff he bolted out of the room.
Reaching a bare wall, he slid down. Resting his head between his knees, he wrapped his arms around and took deep slow breaths. Counting to ten. Once he had his breathing under control, he loosened his arms but did not make any further movements. He wanted to go see Danny, make sure he was still there. But he knew leaving now would be suspicious. They would probably follow him.
Deep voices could be heard from down the hall. It was the agents, they were reporting to someone. Buster strained his ears so he could listen in, if they were looking for both Danny and Phantom, it was personal.
"We have to consider the fact that he was hit at least twice. No one in town has reported seeing him after our encounter, he's probably out of the picture. A person his size could not have gotten far, I believe we should stick to perusing Phantom."
Sighing in relief when the bell finally rang, he gathered up his half-written notes and swiftly left the room. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he avoided all eye contact. The agents were still occupying the school, despite what he had overheard. They may think Danny was dead, but it looked like they weren't going to take any chances. Casper High was also known as a frequent spot for Phantom's fights.
He slipped through the crowd as he made his way to the cafeteria, "Hey! Look who's here. How are you?" A familiar voice cried out as an arm was suddenly flung around his shoulder. Startled, looking to his side, he realized that it was just Tucker.
As the older boy directed him toward their regular table, Buster waved at Sam. "Good, I guess," he lied.
"That's a relief, I don't want to catch anything," Tucker grimaced as he let go of Buster and sat down.
"Tucker…" Sam reprimanded as she sat down beside her friend.
Turning to face Buster, "the catch up on work must be brutal huh?" she asked casually.
Buster studied both their faces, they seemed perfectly relaxed. It was as if they were blissfully unaware that their best friend was on the government's hit list, which was pretty impossible. The GIW had made it clear who they were on the lookout for. The constant staring directed towards their table was also pretty hard to ignore.
Stiffly, he nodded in a delayed response. "Uh, yeah. I haven't understood a word today."
She flashed a sympathetic smile, "I can help if you need it. Just give me a call if you are stuck on anything."
He smiled at her offer, "Thanks…" She was being pretty nice, now that he thought about it, it wasn't normal. Tucker was staring off behind him, glaring angrily at someone pretty uncharacteristically. Biting his lip, he realized that they both had deep purple bags underneath their eyes. They were worried, just really good at hiding it.
Turning to see what Tucker was looking at, he spotted a GIW agent that he hadn't seen yet keeping post at the doors. Buster's gaze wandered around the room, taking in the number of people who quickly shifted their eyes once he reached them. He made eye contact with a boy seated a few tables away.
Wes discreetly glanced at the agent, giving Buster a knowing look before shifting his eyes away to rejoin his conversation. Buster's mind instantly flashed to Danny, Wes had left him alone. They still had a few hours left of school, would he be alright till then?
"So what have you been up to?" Sam asked, sounding seemingly suspicious, as she unwrapped her sandwich.
Buster panicked, he raised up his arms in defense. "Nothing that has to do with Danny, if that's what you're asking."
She raised her eyebrow, Tucker directed his attention back towards him with an equally confused expression. She crossed her arms across her chest "…I wasn't asking that."
Buster blushed, "Oh." Shoot, he was terrible at this. Danny had told him to act normal, but he couldn't help but be on edge. The weight of the secret was too much. He didn't want to keep it a secret, they were his friends. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So…" he started hesitantly, meeting their eyes. "Why are you guys so cool about these creepy guys looking for him? Aren't you worried?"
Shifted uncomfortably in her seat, Sam furrowed her brows and averted her gaze. "I…uh…" Buster had never seen her like this, she looked like she wanted to yell at him but was forcing herself to remain calm. Usually, she just yelled.
"Because we know Danny, and he's fine," Tucker interrupted, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Buster narrowed his eyes, Danny was not fine. Either these two trusted Danny a bit too much, were in on his crime, or were delusional. He couldn't decide which one it was.
"But how could you know for sure," he challenged. They hadn't seen him last night, they had no idea how deep this was.
Tucker hardened his look and silently watched him, sighing he leaned in and lowered his voice, "he messaged us last night," he started. Sam opened her mouth in protest but he held up his hand to stop her, "he's in a bit of trouble but he's okay. Relax, this will all blow over. He's staying out of sight until these idiots leave…we don't really know where he is but that's better if they interrogate us, we won't have to lie."
Buster was surprised Tucker had trusted him enough to tell him that. His mind went back to the memory of last night, the message he had sent before throwing away Danny's phone. It was some sort of code, which was the only contact Danny had with them as far as he could remember. Confused, "How did you get all of that out of c ya?" he mumbled, more to himself than the two around him.
"…what?" Sam stared at him with an accusing glare.
He widened his eyes, she wasn't supposed to hear him. Licking his lips, he shifted his eyes around nervously. "I…forget I said that," he tried weakly.
"You know where he is," She stated. It wasn't a question. Her whole demeanor had hardened. Her glare turned to steel, sending cold shivers down his spine.
"No I don't," Buster defended although he knew it was a losing battle.
"Buster…" She gritted angrily.
He looked away from her, closing his eyes he breathed through his nose. "Fine…but he told me not to tell you guys, I'm trying really hard to do that so please drop it."
He looked back up when she didn't say anything. Tucker had a pretty strong grip on her arm, willing her to calm down. She looked straight at him, as if challenging him. Did she think he was going to expose Danny? She really needed to trust him more.
"You didn't answer my question," Buster daringly prompted. What could he say, he was curious. All the mystery and unanswered questions around the situation was getting to him.
Letting go of Sam, Tucker adjusted his glasses. "Danny is kind of a magnet for trouble, some time back we made up a code for emergencies. Something that couldn't really be used against him you know? C Ya is Code Yellow. That means he's alright but needs to hide, the less we know the better. I don't know what you know but I'm sticking with Danny's plan. Don't tell us anything, don't tell the GIW anything. Pretend you never saw him."
"Got it…" Buster muttered, not used to the seriousness in Tucker's voice. They sat in awkward silence for the remainder of lunch, Sam was still glaring at him but he chose to ignore it. Tucker had returned to glaring at the agents. None of them really ate much.
"Tucker Foley and Sam Manson. Please report to the office immediately," A static filled voice echoed through the cafeteria. They both tensed up but kept their expressions cool and collected.
"How is he?" Tucker quietly asked, breaking his own rule, as they began clearing the table.
Buster looked away, "I'm not sure," he said honestly.
Sam sighed, running her fingers through her hair, "tell him he's an idiot."
At that, Buster grinned. "I'm planning on it."
Standing on the sidewalk, Buster scanned the area. Finally finding who he was looking for, "Wait up!"
Without turning around, Wes stopped in his tracks, throwing his head slightly back. "Ugh, what do you want? Can't a guy get some peace and quiet, it was bad enough I had to deal with Fenton this morning. I was supposed to have the house to myself for a whole week, stupid jerk," he grumbled but Buster ignored him mostly, clinging to the information he needed.
"So he was awake? He's okay?"
Wes turned his head slightly towards him, smirking slyly as they walked away from the school. "You had any doubts?"
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, "Well there could have been internal damage you know, he's going to need a hospital eventually," Buster stated.
"Nah, he can pull through. A hospital is not really a place for him. He's not the same as you and me, if you catch what I'm saying" The ginger replied casually.
Buster wondered how many times Danny got into these sorts of messes, everyone else seemed to think he was invincible. "Not really," he mumbled.
"You will. Eventually," Buster just shook his head, he had almost forgotten Wes had a screw loose.
He kept quiet, eyes trained straight ahead. A few minutes later, he heard a tired sigh from beside him, "dude you need to stop worrying, the guy may look helpless but he can take care of himself. Believe me."
Shrugging his shoulders, "I guess a stalker is a pretty good source…"
Wes rolled his eyes, "I do what I have to do."
Buster turned his head to look at him, the expression on the taller boy's face was unreadable. He really couldn't understand why Wes was helping. "So why haven't you reported him yet?"
Grinning strangely, "To the GIW?" he asked as if holding back some sort of inside joke.
Buster nodded, "Yeah, or the police." It really didn't make any sense, Wes had to have known about other things Danny had done. Why didn't he bother doing anything with the information?
"Because, that's not how I work."
Buster looked down at the concrete floor in confusion, he didn't realize for a few seconds as the steps beside him halted. Turning around he saw Wes staring at something, he retraced his steps to stand beside the boy and looked out onto the other side of the street. There was a large truck-like vehicle parked haphazardly outside a random building, a couple of people standing around arguing.
What caught his attention was the huge picture of a boy hanging off of the vehicle, it was Danny. Jack and Maddie Fenton were shouting loudly, waving their arms around animatedly as they argued with half a dozen GIW agents. Buster couldn't hear what they were saying exactly, but he could take a wild guess. Another person stood at the side next to Danny's parents, arms crossed, a deadly look upon his face. The mayor. Buster swallowed, he wished he had never got involved in this whole thing.
"You know they are the ones who shot him right?" he said quietly.
Wes turned away from the scene, continuing on their path, "Yeah, I know."
"Who would shoot a kid?" he asked, trying hard not to let the terror he felt show through his tone.
"A long list of people if the kid's as dangerous as Fenton, but to be fair, the GIW don't really give a crap about human lives."
Buster balled his hands in anger and frustration. "I just can't wrap my head around this."
"What?" Wes prompted in a slightly bored voice.
"Danny, he's a completely different person than I thought he was but yet somehow he's the same." He confessed, a tired frown on his face.
"You're on to something there dude," Wes supplied mischievously as they turned the corner to his street.
Buster ignored his unnerving smirk. He felt so confused. He just wanted to go home, curl up under the covers and forget about this entire god awful week. The entire year. But he couldn't.
There was a small spot of blood on the side walk, hardly noticeable if you weren't looking. But Buster could see it, it made his stomach churn. He held back a gag as horrible memories of practically dragging Danny across town resurfaced.
Following Wes up the steps, he watched as he turned the key in the lock. Holding his breath as he heard the click, he waited for Wes to enter before coming in behind him. The house was quiet. Danny wouldn't really be making a lot of noise by himself, he supposed.
Letting his eyes wander over to the empty stained couch, he lifted an eyebrow. He looked over to Wes who carried an indifferent expression as he threw his stuff down. Buster stood awkwardly, afraid, but not sure why.
He made his way into the living room as Wes disappeared down the hall. Just as he sat down, he sprang back up to hit feet at the sound of a shout.
"Fenton!"
Running towards the sound, he gasped. "Danny!"
The boy in question was lying flat on his stomach, limbs splayed out, head on the side in the middle of the hallway. He was unconscious, a small bruise on his forehead that wasn't there last night. Wes kneeled down, shaking the boy. "Dude, what the hell. Wake up!"
Buster's pulse quickened, it was just as he thought. Danny was dying, they should have never listened to him. Staying alive was more important than staying out of jail.
After a few more shakes, his eyes fluttered open. "Huh... Oh hey Wes, what are you doing back already?" he slurred, scrunching his eyes at the bright light.
Wes got back up to his feet and crossed his arms, "School's over twerp, now get off the ground."
Still dazed, Danny looked around him. Blushing as he realized where he was, "uh, right," he mumbled.
Attempting to push himself off the hall floor, He glanced behind Wes. "Hi Buster," he winced.
Not able to look straight at him, Buster sighed, "Hey."
"Shit, stop. You tore your stiches," Wes suddenly exclaimed, putting a hand on Danny shoulder to restrict his movement. Buster turned back only to see a growing line of red seeping through his borrowed shirt.
Covering it with his hand, Danny shrugged Wes off. "No, its fine. Leave it." Getting to his feet, he wobbled. Trying to keep his weight off his injured knee, he steadied himself by gripping the wall. Danny looked terrible, there was no colour to his skin. His eyes were sunken in, appearing hollow. His black hair matted with sweat, and if you looked closely, he was shaking.
Buster rolled his eyes, "it's obviously not fine Danny." Walking up to him he offered his support which Danny quietly accepted as they made their way back to the living room. Wes looked unsure of what to do for a moment, then disappeared upstairs. Coming back down, he placed a clean shirt on the sofa and reopened the first aid kit. He looked kind of green, Buster knew how he felt.
Danny noticed the look, offering his hand out, he gestured for the kit. Buster wanted to protest as Wes passed it over without a fight but couldn't find his voice. He didn't really know how to deal with torn stiches anyway. Silently, they watched as Danny took care of his own wound with skill.
"So, how's the outside world doing in my absence?" he asked, pain artfully hidden from in his voice.
Buster swallowed, forcing himself to look away from the awful sight. "The whole town is crawling with goons," he informed.
Wes cleared his throat, "The Guys in White," he stated with a strange inclination in his voice. Communicating something to Danny that Buster couldn't pick up on.
Danny grunted, "Figured as much."
Buster couldn't help but feel angry at the boy's carefree attitude. "They think you're dead," he supplied in an attempt to elicit some emotion.
Danny looked up, meeting his eyes. He bobbed his head side to side in apparent contemplation. "That's…good."
He wrinkled his forehead in frustration. "They're also looking for Phantom, I haven't seen him in a while actually. Do you know where he is?"
Wes, bizarrely enough, giggled. "He's closer than you think."
Danny shot him a look before grinning, "Don't worry about him."
So he knew. "This thing that you did, Phantom helped you do it?" But Phantom was a hero. He wouldn't help commit crimes. Right? A horrible cover of doubt formed in his mind.
"Buster, don't ask questions. Please," Danny whispered while finishing up with his bandages.
His voice was so gentle and kind that it only made Buster angrier. "You can't expect me to just sit back and watch!" he yelled.
"That's exactly what I expect you to do. This isn't a big deal. Once they give up on looking for me, they'll leave."
Clenching his jaw, Buster stared at Danny incredulously. "Then what?" he prompted in a dangerously calm voice.
Danny sighed, gesturing for Wes to pass over the new shirt. "Nothing, we won't have to worry about them then," he proclaimed as he caught the garment and slipped it on.
"I don't believe you, you're up to something. You're lying to me," Buster stated, getting up to point an accusing finger in Danny's drained face.
Danny looked at the finger then back at him. His eyes narrowed, gaze hardening. "You don't need to be here Buster."
He backed up at the harshness of Danny's tone. Crossing his arms in defiance, "yeah I do," he argued.
Danny leaned back and closed his eyes. "Well, I don't want you here," he bit out angrily. Buster couldn't believe it, Danny was mad at him.
"I don't want either of you here really," Wes interjected dryly, getting up and walking over to the kitchen.
Danny smiled slightly at the comment but quickly turned his attention back to Buster. "Just leave. Don't come back. I'll see you when this is over."
Exasperated, Buster ran his fingers through his hair. This guy was impossible. "Why can't you just trust me enough to tell me the truth?"
"It's not about trust. You just don't need to be involved," Danny stubbornly grumbled
"I'm already involved!" he screamed louder than necessary, "I really wish I wasn't, but I can't just forget about it now! You're hurt, I'm usually the dumb one but even I can see that you're being an idiot. You need a doctor!" His chest heaved from the outburst, all the pent up anger leaving him. His eyes burned with emotion.
Danny fixed him under a guilty look, sadness gleaming in his blue eyes. Buster decided he hated that look. It was too deceiving.
"I'm sorry," Danny sighed, "Please I'm fine. Just go."
Staring at the stubborn boy with raw fury, Buster grit his teeth. Without another word, he grabbed his bag and walked out the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.