The weekend passed like that. Danny was alone for the most part; his parents were going to be at that convention for at least a week and a half, presenting their latest finds on the supernatural realm. He met Tucker at the mall when his beret'ed friend needed to purchase new parts for the computer he was working on that Sunday, and then they hit up the arcade for a few hours before parting ways again. Sam would occasionally text Danny throughout the weekend, complaining about how boring family events are or something or other. They'd talk for a few before something else required Sam's attention and Danny resumed his relatively uneventful weekend.
School came as it always had: too quickly. Danny met his two best friends in front of their respective houses and together they walked to school, deepening the rut they had begun work on their freshman year. Their talk was empty, yet lighthearted. Danny noticed this because that is what he did; as someone who tended to be overlooked himself, he had developed an acute knack for noticing what others did not. He idly wondered if it was even such a bad thing, this emptiness. It caused no pain, and it filled the silence. But something small in him was put off by the small talk. He ignored it.
The trio bounded up the concrete steps, dodging similar groups of friends who lazily lounged on the brick railings and leaned on the longstanding almost-mint lockers. It didn't take long for the shrill whine of the bell to cut through most social interactions and urge all students to their homerooms, breaking Danny and Tucker away from Sam. Tucker remarked something about the cruel mistress that was the surname, and Danny nodded as he watched Sam's black figure saunter away into the starving crowd.
Tucker sat in front of his paler friend while roll was called and announcements were made, making suggestive glances at any popular girl unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him. His smile held steady with every rejection, even though his shoulders would sag momentarily with each eye roll. Danny watched this, though he saw less of what was actually occurring in front of him than he saw the memory of every single homeroom that had already occurred, every other eye roll, the one long smile. Routine could be comforting when life feels anything but.
Right before lunch, Danny's body shivered with the familiar goosebump inducing chill that had become deeply ingrained in the boy's life. Ask him now, and Danny could assume he raised his hand; he probably asked to leave the room; the ghost was caught-it was only a low level spectre with very little form to speak of after all- so it was easy to deduce that the fight had occurred just as all the others had. But the literal firsthand account would just take up valuable mental space, and so it dissipated into the fog. He promptly returned to class, went to lunch, saw his friends, and went to finish out the rest of his classes for that day.
It was in Lancer's class, of all the places, that the Feeling struck him again.
This time it crept up on him like a feral cat, digging its claws into his heart like icicle daggers. Anxiety and adrenaline coursed through his veins, threatening to tear him apart. His breathing was silent, yet rapid and shaky, accompanying the equally unnatural heart rate. He looked around once to make sure no one was aware of his sudden plight- because, as a half human hybrid, secrecy tended to be a number one concern. The actual personal worry came once he realized that everyone else was either too caught up in the lecture, or, more likely, not paying attention to anything in their surroundings.
The room around him seemed to bend and breathe in ways that plaster never should. Danny's mind raced: his ghost sense hadn't gone off, and no one else seemed to notice anything. But still the air rippled as though it were alive. Sounds seemed muffled. Danny's arm lifted his hand and he began to inspect it. It shook with the beat of his heart, his fingers twitching as do the fingers of most other living people. But the movement seemed pronounced in his mind, the joints not quite straight enough to be natural. His wrist turned and he observed his palm, noticed the way his skin frayed at the edges of his calluses, took in the swirls in the ridges that created the microscopic volar topography. His tendons shifted with each phalangeal twitch.
And Danny felt the Distance.
The bell rang.
Everything became solid again. Inanimate.
The shuffling and voices around him became unbearably loud as the poor English teacher yelled in vain at the disillusioned students- "Read through chapter six!..."- he faded in the commotion like the force of the outgoing tide-"...next week is the... don't forget to... hey, knock it off."
Danny felt as though he could feel nothing but the overwhelming pinpricks of the chaos around him as everyone left the school for more interesting things.
So he shoved his notebook in his backpack and ran.