Day 2 - Backpack
Summary: In which Dash becomes strangely invested in other people's personal belongings
"It's okay, man," Kwan said, clapping Dash on the shoulder. "Lancer's a nice guy! He's had your back before."
"Yeah, before," Dash muttered. Before Lancer suddenly got all up in arms about student athletes' academic performance and began cracking down on him and his buddies.
It was all unfair, in Dash's opinion. He was the star of the football team! He'd made the starting lineup as a freshman and led the team to their first playoff appearance in a decade. Who cared if he got a couple of lousy grades when he was 17 for 21 in completions at the last game? With no interceptions!
But no. Lancer had to play hardball with him just because he was sitting at a D- in his class. It was only October, there was still plenty of time to pull it up. And a D- was still a passing grade, right? So long as it wasn't an F.
That hadn't stopped Lancer from pulling him aside in class yesterday and telling him that until he could get up to at least a C in the class, he'd be prohibited from seeing any active play time. He'd gotten absolutely reamed by the coach over the whole thing at last night's practice.
And so there he was, standing outside of Lancer's classroom at the end of his study hall, right before his English class, trying to work up the guts to go in and ask (beg) for some sort of extra credit. They had one of the most important games of the season next week, there was no way he could miss that. Kwan had only come as moral support. And to offer his services as an English tutor, if necessary (Dash never would've guessed, but Kwan had a surprising knack for writing. Some of his friend's poems and stuff weirded him out, but hey, if Kwan's hidden talent could save his hide, he wouldn't complain).
Dash groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. "He's not gonna give me anything. He'll just tell me some teacher thing about, I don't know, thinking about the consequences before I decided to flunk, or something." Which wasn't even a fair assessment. It's not like he'd chosen to get bad grades. They just kind of… happened. He could only nag Mikey into 'helping' him with his homework so many times before it got suspicious.
Kwan, always the chipper one, grabbed Dash by the shoulders and steered him towards the door. "Nah, you don't know he'll say that!" he declared over Dash's protests. "It's like my mom always says: you won't know until you try!"
"Kwan, wait-" Dash said, but it was too late. Kwan had pushed open the door and him inside. He panicked; he hadn't worked out what to say or anything!
He was so focused on scrambling to come up with a reasonable plea that it took him longer than it should've to process the fact that Lancer wasn't sitting at his desk. The teacher wasn't in the classroom at all, actually. No one was.
"Huh," Kwan said, echoing Dash's thoughts. "I could've sworn he did lunch detentions this period."
"He does," Dash responded. "He gave one to Fenton for being late for, like, the billionth time yesterday. And he gave one to Dale for texting Tiffanie during class."
Kwan stifled a laugh. "At this rate, Lancer's gonna have the whole team benched!"
Dash didn't find the joke funny. Partially because he didn't appreciate the jab at his expense, but also because he'd just noticed that the classroom wasn't completely empty.
"Hey, whose bag is that?" he asked, pointing at the ratty purple thing leaning against the leg of a desk in the second row. The backpack had certainly seen better days; the straps were frayed, a variety of stains and dirt splotched the bag in an irregular pattern, and the canvas was completely torn in the very front pocket. It was the kind of bag Paulina would probably puke at if it got within ten feet of her.
"Umm…" Kwan hummed as he took a step closer to it. "Isn't that Fenton's?"
It was Dash's turn to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, right," he said. "Have you seen the way he's been obsessing over his bag lately? No shot that loser just leaves without it."
He watched as Kwan considered the argument, but he knew his point was airtight. Fenton had started keeping a death grip on his backpack out of the blue, a little more than a month ago. Other A-list members loved to guffaw over stories about how he would take the thing with him to the bathroom on his famous psychic bladder trips. Some of them thought maybe he was on to something - it was a miracle that so few personal belongings had been ruined during ghost attacks - but most of them used it as an excuse to poke more fun at him. To think Fenton would just leave his bag alone, even during a ghost attack, was dumb.
Still, Kwan looked skeptical. "I don't know man," he said. "Like I'm pretty sure that's his. It's the same color and stuff."
An idea manifested itself so clearly in Dash's head, he could practically feel the lightbulb going off (sue him, he liked watching old, cheesy cartoons with visual gags). He elbowed Kwan and, with a mischievous grin, said, "Only one way to find out." He snatched the bag off the ground and hoisted it onto the desk, grabbing the zipper.
"Whoa whoa whoa," Kwan said. He caught Dash's wrist. "We can't just go through someone's stuff like this! What if Lancer comes back and sees us?"
Dash scoffed. "We'll be quick. And besides, it's not some random kid's stuff, it's Fenton's." He quirked an eyebrow and added, "Unless you're admitting I'm right about it not being his."
Kwan bit his lip. "I still don't know, man…"
"Fine then, you can stand there and be a lookout. I still wanna check. And hey, if you're right, then maybe we can score something juicy on that loser!"
Kwan sighed, still clearly unhappy with Dash, but he didn't stop his friend from opening up the main pocket and sifting through the bag's contents.
Algebra book, boring. A few folders stuffed with papers, boring, although the name scrawled across the top of one of them confirmed it was, in fact, Danny Fenton's. Disheveled notebook, boring. Leftovers from a bagged lunch, gross. A handful of crappy pens and pencils, boring. A silver tube of lipstick, just plain weird.
He was starting to think that it'd been a stupid idea after all (of course it was, why wouldn't it be? It was loser Fenton they were talking about here) when he saw, sitting innocuously in the bottom of the backpack, Phantom's ghost catcher.
At least that's what he thought it was. It looked like the same green and silver thing he always used to suck up the ghosts - it was definitely scratched and dented enough to be his - but it also looked like a soup thermos. A super techy soup thermos, but a soup thermos nonetheless.
Was Phantom's ghost catcher thingy a thermos? Dash couldn't really remember. He'd never seen it up close.
Kwan had noticed how Dash had paused so suddenly. "What? What's in there?" he asked, craning his neck to see.
Carefully, Dash took the thermos out of the bag. "Check this."
Kwan's jaw dropped. "Holy crap," he breathed. "Is that Phantom's? No wonder Fenton's been watching that bag like a hawk!"
"You sure it's actually his? Like come on, why would someone as cool as Phantom give something so important to someone as lame as Fenton?"
"I dunno," Kwan said, shrugging. "Maybe he found it or something? After one of Phantom's fights? Or maybe it's actually his, it's got his parent's logo on it."
Sure enough, stamped into the lid was a stylized F, recognizable by just about every resident of Amity Park. Dash frowned down at it. "Why the heck would Phantom be using one of the Fenton's dumb inventions?"
Kwan shrugged again. "Are we even sure it's Phantom's?"
Dash turned his frown toward his friend. "Dude, you're the one who said it was Phantom's first!" At least out loud, he added mentally. "Plus look at it, it's so beat up and stuff, it's gotta be his! Who else have we seen using one of these things?" He thrust the thermos at Kwan, but both boys were startled when they heard something clatter against its metal sides.
"Oh my gosh," Kwan whispered. "There's a ghost in there right now!"
Dash smacked the back of Kwan's head. "Idiot, ghosts are, like, squishy! They don't sound like that!"
He grabbed the lid, fully intending to twist it off, but Kwan's uncharacteristic squeak made him pause. "Don't open it!" Kwan screeched.
"Quit being such a wuss," Dash said, twisting the lid again. It popped off easily and, when no ghost came flying out, he shook out its contents into his hand.
Kwan, who had covered his eyes with his hands when Dash opened the thermos, peeked out from between two fingers. When he saw the object in his friend's hand, he slowly lowered his guard. "A ring?" he asked, bewildered.
Dash echoed the sentiments. It was, in fact, a ring resting in his palm, threaded with a plain silver chain. The ring itself was totally bizarre. The metal, which was freezing to the touch, seemed to radiate with a bright green color. The black onyx setting didn't protrude too far from the body of the ring, but it had to be wide across in order to house the main stone - a large emerald, surrounded by tiny ruby studs. When Dash raised the ring in between two fingers and twisted it, he could see a pattern being formed in the stone's facets. A face of some sort?
The whole ensemble reminded Dash of the class ring his mom had ordered for him last year. Somewhat bulky, very showy, and very unlike Fenton. Judging by its creep factor, it seemed more like Manson's style than anything. It didn't help that when he held it, he felt his heart seize up in a sudden sense of foreboding, as if he was being hunted. A cold breeze brushed against the hairs on the back of his neck despite the fact that the AC was definitely not running. Some sort of strange, inhuman beat thrummed in his chest, out of sync with his heart.
It was unpleasant. He shifted his hold onto the silver chain, and the feelings abated. Mostly, anyway.
Kwan whistled. "Wow. A rock like that's gotta be worth some serious change."
"You think?" Dash asked absently. He was still distracted trying to decide whether the flash of anxiety had actually been triggered by the ring or not, though he didn't fail to notice the fact that Kwan made no move to touch it.
"Totally. Look at the size of that thing! It's like, bigger than my thumbnail."
Dash shot his friend a look. "Dude. I've told you, you gotta stop making weirdly specific comparisons."
"Hey, I'll have you know that Lancer was all over my 'descriptive capabilities' in that last creative writing assignment," Kwan said, folding his arms across his chest. "Either way, though, I gotta wonder how on earth Fenton could get his hands on something that fancy. Unless if it's like, a family heirloom or something. Don't you remember how he had that pop-up garage sale just to afford those sweats for that one party you had?"
The gears in Dash's head churned faster and faster as the pieces began to fall into place. "Yeah…" he admitted slowly. "And look at it. Fenton wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like this."
Kwan looked up at Dash from the ring. He raised an eyebrow; Dash could tell he recognized the look on his face. "What are you thinking?"
Dash grinned. "I'm thinking that we were right about that thing being Phantom's ghost catcher," he said, pointing to the thermos with his jaw. "Fenton probably saw him put the ring in there and stole it from him! Maybe he thinks the ring is valuable and he's waiting for the chance to sell it!"
"Maybe," Kwan mused. "How would he have stolen it from Phantom in the first place, though? And why would Phantom put a ring in his ghost catcher?"
"Bro, look at this thing and try and tell me it's not some ghost thing. Don't you feel that creepy vibe it's giving off?"
Kwan shrugged noncommittally. "Okay, so we'll say it's Phantom's. You wanna, what, try and return it?"
"Yeah, exactly!" Dash exclaimed. "Think about it! Even if the ring is worthless, Phantom's gotta be wondering where his ghost catcher went. If we tell him we found it and we give it back to him, it'll totally establish the three of us as bros! He'll be so grateful, he'll definitely want to hang with us."
Kwan opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by the ringing of the bell. Dash let loose a string of swears that would absolutely earn him a detention if Lancer had heard him; he snatched the thermos off the desk and dropped the ring and chain back in it. He swung his own bag off his shoulder and, despite Kwan's sputtering protests, shoved the thermos in.
Satisfied, he threw Fenton's bag back onto the ground and pulled Kwan towards their usual seats on the other side of the classroom just as the first student walked in.
"What are you doing?" Kwan hissed at him. "Fenton's totally gonna realize it's gone! And how are we even supposed to find Phantom to give it back to him?"
A thought flashed across Dash's mind, making him chuckle at how both of their roles had switched. "Oh, Kwan, dear pal of mine," he said, "it's like your mom says: we won't know until we try."
Kwan slid into his seat, but kept a glare trained on his friend. "Using my mom like that? Low blow, man."
Dash watched as more students filed into the room. Mia was busy shooing away Ricky, who kept trying to insert himself between her and Sarah while she showed her something on her phone. Paulina perched herself in the chair in front of him, raving about some sort of girl drama he usually only pretended to pay attention to. Manson and Foley entered a minute later. Their heads were bent close together, and they were whispering furiously about something, even after they took their seats.
Strangely enough, Lancer and Dale were still missing from the room by the time the bell rang. Less strangely, Fenton was late as well.
Dash didn't really notice. He was preoccupied with watching Manson and Foley, who apparently hadn't noticed that their third member had left his precious backpack unattended. He scoffed. They were probably too wrapped up in one of their stupid arguments to notice, although the last time they'd gotten into a fight, freshmen were swearing up and down that the two of them could be heard all the way from the gym.
A full four minutes after the bell rang, students had begun muttering about leaving class if Lancer didn't show. To their disappointment, including Dash's, the teacher rushed in a moment later looking particularly frazzled. He was followed closely by Dale, who looked downright traumatized, and Fenton, who simply looked bored.
"I apologize for the delay, students," Lancer said as he shuffled the papers on his desk. "Our lunch detention was rudely interrupted by a ghost who thought it funny to try and make us bungee jump off the school roof… sans bungee cords."
Well that helped explain why Fenton had left his bag behind. And why Dale, who was deathly afraid of heights, looked like he was about to puke all over his desk.
Dash stole another glance at Fenton, who'd joined his loser friends in their whispering. Manson and Foley, he'd noticed, had relaxed significantly once they'd seen Fenton. More importantly, none of them had paid any attention to Fenton's bag.
Dash grinned triumphantly. "See Kwan?" he whispered. "I'm telling you, this is gonna work out just fine."
Kwan only shook his head and pulled out his notebook. "I hope you're right, bro."
To be continued in Day 27 - Rings