A/N: Thank you, Fluehatraya for your review! Wow, that was fast.
Five minutes before the end of the period, Mr. Lancer dismissed his students. "Yes, I am releasing you early," he reaffirmed when several students had not left their seats, preferring to stare at him incredulously. "Don't expect this to become routine, however!" Earning a few cheers regardless, Mr. Lancer waited until only one student remained. Leaning forward and steepling his fingers, Mr. Lancer surveyed the anomaly before him.
Danny Fenton shuffled his feet, scuffed one hole-riddled shoe against the other, fidgeted with the straps of that dingy purple backpack of his and sporadically wiped his palms against his clothing. The boy's eyes, Lancer noticed, jumped from the door, to the window, to the door, sometimes to the closet and occasionally to himself; he did not, however, spare the clock any attention as Lancer might have expected of a teenager who possessed the simple desire of escaping a teacher's company.
An anomaly, indeed.
The silence was punctuated by a yawn from the youth, and Mr. Lancer saw fit to speak.
"Mister Fenton… Daniel," he began.
"Danny."
"Pardon?"
"Danny. Call me Danny." Danny looked particularly unsure of himself at that statement. Mr. Lancer smiled slightly.
"Danny," he amended. "You entered this classroom last year, and do you want to know what I saw?"
Silence. Eventually, Danny answered quietly, somewhat bitterly, "A loser who couldn't do something right even if—" He stopped, and he did not continue. His eyes stilled, focusing on a point near the conjunction of wall and floor.
Mr. Lancer's expression hardened. "I saw potential, Danny. I saw a boy with a thirst for knowledge, who wanted to be an astronaut, who had the intelligence and determination to do so. Do you want to know what I see now?"
Danny remained silent.
"I see a slacker." Danny flinched. "I see a student who is truant more often than not, whose portfolio couldn't jam the cheapest of staplers and whose lack of effort could put any prospective Nasty Burger employee to shame." Again, Danny flinched. "Daniel…Danny…is this truly the path that you wish to take?"
The silence stretched on.
"I don't lack effort, Sir," Danny said slowly, "And no, I wish—" He choked slightly. "Well, I try not to wish very often," he explained, and he smiled nervously as though having told a joke. When Mr. Lancer did not respond, Danny continued, slightly put-out, "I, uh, this, um, path… It's not necessarily the path that I, the path that I chose. Well, I suppose it is, but you see, I, erm… It's the path that I have to take, Sir."
Lancer studied Danny, Danny shifting from foot to foot, time and time again, as he stared back.
"Why is that, Danny?"
"Well, you see, Sir! Imagine"—Mr. Lancer sensed that he was about to receive an extremely specific metaphor—"Imagine that you had, um, that you had super powers. Would you use it and save people, or would you–would you ignore it and act like—like nothing's—" Danny seemed to bite back a yawn. "Would you just ignore it and act like everything's normal?"
Well, that was certainly different than what Mr. Lancer had expected. Super powers? What was Daniel talking about?
After some consideration, Mr. Lancer replied, "Well, if it were in my power to help someone, I suppose I would help him or her."
"Even if—even if helping people… even if the helping people thing, Sir, cut into other things, like, say, school?" Panic flashed against Danny's face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Mr. Lancer watched him, feeling that he was the closest to the truth that he had yet come but still confused as ever. What? The lad was cutting class to help people? Whom could he be helping? Either Danny was more gifted at inventing metaphors than Lancer had thought, or he had stumbled upon a greater enigma than he had anticipated. What was that about super powers? Inexplicably, Lancer thought of the ghost whose name and the debate of whose hero status were branded on every other newspaper he purchased, Invis-O-Bill or Danny Phantom or whatever the spook called himself.
Mr. Lancer attempted to appear empathetic, despite his mounting headache. "Danny," he started, standing slowly and reaching out to touch the teen's shoulder. When Danny tool a step back and appeared bewildered as he followed every movement of Mr. Lancer's, he withdrew his hand. Danny glanced between the window and the door—window, door, window—then finally flitted his eyes to the clock.
Disheartened, Mr. Lancer continued, "You know you can tell me—" He stopped when Danny jerked his head to the side. He sighed. "You know that I care about you, right?" Danny appeared relieved.
"Yes, Sir."
Wondering if he had made any progress with the boy, Mr. Lancer experienced a rush of gratitude for it being his conference period as he reached forward for a booklet at the edge of his desk. When Danny twitched and focused on Mr. Lancer's hand, somehow appearing more nervous than he had when he was frantically establishing and re-establishing contingency routes, Lancer felt the need to explain.
"I'm writing you a note to give to your second period teacher."
What's happened to you?
Danny released a large breath.
Abuse?
Lancer dismissed the possibility. He had been trained to recognize child abusers. Danny's sister seemed more concerned than he, Mr. Lancer, and neither Jack nor Maddie Fentom matched anything of which he had been warned. He did not find attractive the thought of running in and opening an investigation based on professional obligation and zero intuition. No, having Child Protection Services on the doorstep of Fenton Works would not be helpful, and he doubted that Danny would grant him any measure of trust ever again.
"Oh, okay. Thanks, Sir."
Bullying?
It could very well be so, but that would not explain Danny's unexcused tardies and absences, missing assignments or apparent sleep deprivation, nor did it fit with what Danny had said earlier.
After appending his signature, Mr. Lancer held out the note to Danny.
"Thank you, Sir," he repeated. As Danny turned to leave, Lancer stopped him one last time.
"Danny?" He smiled. "Call me Mister Lancer."
Danny smiled back.