Author's note: It's been a long time, I know. We had an unexpected death in the family and then I was in Hawaii for a couple weeks and I have terrible aerophobia so for several weeks before the trip I was just paralyzed with dread and fear lol. I can write when I'm busy, stressed, or even depressed, but not when I'm anxious or scared. And the weird thing is that it actually gets worse the more I do it, not better. I've flown so many times since I was a kid including across the entire Pacific Ocean eight to ten times at least, and I find I'm actually more scared now than I was when I was younger.
But anyway, I don't have any trips coming up, so hopefully I can write more often!
Disillusioned
I want to lock up the memories
...
"Thank God it's Friday."
Jazz put her car in drive and pulled away from the curb in front of Fenton Works, heading toward Casper High. Danny slumped in the passenger seat, his backpack on the floor between his knees.
"Yeah," he said, not really sure if he actually agreed because now he had two whole days where he couldn't use school as an excuse to get out of the house and away from his mother.
"But I see you're still wearing those blue contacts." Jazz glanced at him, keeping her hands firmly on the steering wheel.
Danny sucked his teeth. "So you did notice?"
"Not at first," said Jazz. "Just when I look at you up close. Are you wearing them to hide that scar?"
Danny held his elbows and looked out the side window. "I just didn't want people at school asking questions about it. They ask me enough questions as it is."
"About where you were?"
Danny said nothing.
"You are going to tell us how that scar really happened, right?" asked Jazz. "Me, Sam, Tucker?"
"Yes," said Danny, irritably because he had answered this question multiple times now. "Whenever we get a chance to hang out together, I will tell you guys everything."
"But when will that be?" asked Jazz. "We've been waiting all week."
"I've had a lot of makeup work to do. You know that."
"But you couldn't spare just one hour to talk to us?"
Danny could feel a headache coming on. He looked at Jazz's glove compartment in front of him, but he already knew that the painkillers she used to keep in there were gone. He still remembered that crushing disappointment when he opened the compartment and found nothing to help him ease his pain after hours of searching the whole house for that one last hydrocodone pill his mom refused to let him take.
All the painkillers in the house were locked up in an anti-ghost containment device sitting on the counter in the kitchen, one he could not phase through or turn intangible no matter how hard he tried. An extra precaution that confused Jack and even Jazz, but Maddie reminded them that ghosts were known to come in through the ghost portal and steal items and chemicals and medications from them all the time.
And Danny couldn't argue, couldn't let on just how much he wanted to get at those painkillers, had to pretend that the extra layer of protection didn't bother him in the slightest.
But he was so sure that that last hydrocodone pill was in there somewhere, nestled in among all the other painkillers.
God, he just really hoped she didn't throw it away.
"We'll hang out soon," said Danny. "I promise."
"But when is 'soon'?" asked Jazz.
Danny never took his eyes off the glove compartment.
At school, the excitement of Danny's return had faded, and all the students had gone back to mostly ignoring him, no longer whispering about him or even stealing glances at him as he passed by in the halls. Danny could hardly believe there was a time that he wanted to be popular. No, this was what he wanted now: to be invisible, to have no one prying into his most guarded secrets.
Not that students never tried to interact with him, of course.
"Hey, Danny!" Valerie called out to him as he headed toward his locker. "We should hang out soon, yeah?"
"Yeah, we should," said Danny, not meaning it at all and knowing that she was far too busy with her after-school jobs and hunting ghosts to really mean it either.
"Danny!" Paulina's lilting voice made him pause and turn as she bounded up to him. "Feliz Cinco de Mayo, Danny!"
"Oh." Danny blinked, his hand holding one of his backpack straps over his shoulder. "Is that today?"
"Yes." Paulina giggled and gestured to her low-cut black T-shirt sporting a heart-shaped Mexican flag. "It's not really a big deal in Mexico, but I don't get an excuse to wear this shirt too often."
She bounced on her toes, causing her cleavage to pop out a little more. A sight that in the past would've made Danny blush and hot all over but he barely registered anything now.
"It's, uh, nice." He looked down the hall. "I should really get to—"
"Wait, don't go." Paulina grabbed his arm. "I wanted to ask you something."
Danny frowned at her, raising a brow. Paulina almost never talked to him before, so what could she possibly want to ask him about now?
"The ghost boy," said Paulina, still holding his arm. "He's been gone for so long now, you know. Do you have any idea where he might be?"
Danny's chest twinged with panic, but he tried to keep a straight face. "Why would I?"
"Your parents are ghost hunters, and I've seen the ghost boy using that Thermos that says Fenton on it," said Paulina. "You must have some kind of contact with him, don't you?"
"I—no," said Danny, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "I have no idea where he is."
Paulina pouted, her eyes large as her very full bottom lip stuck out. "Well, if you ever do hear from him, can you let me know?"
She skipped away to join Star a little farther down the hall. Danny turned in the direction of his locker again and caught Sam and Tucker nearby, watching, staring at him. Tucker was smiling.
"Oh. Hey," said Danny, somewhat blankly.
"What did Paulina want?" asked Sam.
"Yeah, she seemed pretty cozy with you there," said Tucker, his smile widening.
"No, she's definitely still crushing hard on Phantom," said Danny. "She was just asking if I know where he is."
"I kind of want to know that, too," said Sam, tilting her head.
The hall was very noisy now as students clamored all around them. Danny pretended he didn't hear Sam as he made his way to his locker.
The school day progressed as normally as it could for Danny. Class after class, bell after bell. The warm welcomes from all of his teachers had also faded along with the covert looks and whispers from all the students. Even Dash had lost interest in pestering him for details about his mother's rumored involvement in his disappearance.
But he could sense Sam and Tucker were still worried about him. In the lulls between their attempts to talk about old favorite topics, he could see the cracks in their smiles, the way they kept glancing at each other with knitted brows.
At times, he wondered if his mom was right, if he should just stay home the rest of the semester, perhaps never to return. Homeschool or drop out of high school altogether.
But he was quick to dismiss those thoughts. Because he couldn't give up and let his mother have him all to herself again.
No. Never again.
He belonged to no one. He would prove that to her, to everyone, to himself.
The last class of the day was English. Danny shuffled into the classroom behind Sam and Tucker, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with Lancer.
"Everything all right, Danny?" asked Lancer, standing in front of his desk.
Danny stifled a groan and closed his eyes briefly before opening them and forcing a smile. Lancer was the only teacher who was keeping up this friendly caring act with him.
"Yeah, everything's fine!" said Danny as brightly as he could. "Just a little tired. You know, end of the day and all."
Lancer studied Danny. Danny kept up his smile because the last thing he needed was Lancer emailing his mom and expressing worry or concern over his well-being.
"Yeah, we're all beat," Tucker cut in, clapping a hand on Danny's shoulder. "And it's Friday. Can't you ever just let us have a free day to do whatever we want, Mr. Lancer? Or maybe let us watch a movie?"
"We watched 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' last week to go along with our reading," retorted Lancer.
"Well, I was thinking maybe a movie that wouldn't put me to sleep this time," said Tucker.
Lancer smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Go take your seats."
Danny sighed with relief as he followed Sam and Tucker to their desks. At the back of the room, Dash and Paulina both looked up at him before returning to their conversation with Kwan and Star.
"I can't wait for this semester to finally be over," said Sam, sliding into her chair. "I'm taking all AP classes next year, so hopefully I won't have to be in the same room as Paulina ever again."
"Yeah, yeah, quit showing off how smart you are," said Tucker with a small roll of his eyes.
"Uh, aren't you also taking AP classes next year, tech boy?"
"Well, yeah, but only because my mom is making me. She wants me to get a good scholarship for college. I'm not excited about doing extra work."
Danny folded his arms on his desk and hunched over, not bothering to say anything because of course he wouldn't be taking AP classes next year, not with his C-average grades and long history of unexplained tardies and absences.
"Oh, Danny, before I forget," said Sam, causing Danny to lift his head. "After school today, are we still—"
The bell rang, drowning out the rest of her question. Or perhaps Danny could've heard it if he had tried harder to listen.
But he didn't.
Lancer began class as he usually did, looking around the room and using his finger to count all the students, silently mouthing to himself.
"Everyone's here today." He smiled, looking right at Danny. "That really is so wonderful."
Danny fought back a glower because it had been a week now, why was Lancer still acting like he was just oh so happy to have him back in class? Where was all this kindness before when the most attention Lancer ever gave him was a barked order to report to detention?
Lancer began his lecture. Danny obediently took out the novel they had been assigned to read that week and followed along, paid attention, just like the good student Lancer and all his other teachers always wanted him to be.
Yes, he focused because he was supposed to. But also because it kept his thoughts from turning to more unpleasant topics, being shackled to a cold table or tied to a chair, forced to cooperate under threat of electric shock or some other cruel punishment. Memories that made him shudder and almost cry and DAMN IT he was not going to cry in class.
Lancer suddenly paused, book open in one hand while the other was balled behind his back. He looked up and out the window, at the sunshine on the grass, the late spring breeze rustling the leafy branches of the trees.
The students looked around at each other with furrowed brows. Danny checked the clock at the front of the room. Forty minutes left until the final bell.
Lancer closed his book and lowered it. "It's been a long week for all of us, hasn't it?" He walked to the front of the room and stood by his desk. "Long semester, long year." He gazed out at the classroom. "Many of you I may not even see next year."
The students stared back at him, silent, an atmosphere of confusion.
Lancer set his book down on his desk. "Since it's Friday and we actually are a little ahead of schedule, why don't we spend the rest of class today playing a game?"
The confusion turned to glee as several students exclaimed agreement. Danny's stomach flipped over with unease although he had no idea why.
"Yeah!" whooped Dash, grabbing a worn football from under his chair. "Let's go outside and play some football!"
The students began cheering as Dash tossed the football to Kwan over Paulina's and Star's heads. Paulina and Star both ducked and squealed.
Lancer raised his hands in a gesture to calm everyone. "All right, let's not get too excited. This is still English class, not PE, Mr. Baxter, Mr. Kwan."
Lancer narrowed his eyes at the two boys. Dash and Kwan moaned and grumbled but settled down in their seats again.
"I was thinking a game where we can learn more about each other." Lancer stroked his chin. "Perhaps 'two truths and a lie' or 'would you rather.'"
Danny's stomach fell, dropped. He froze in his seat as ice trickled down his spine.
"Ooh, 'would you rather' is fun!" said Paulina. "I've played that with my cousins."
Other students joined in, echoing Paulina's sentiments, generating a new buzz of excitement. Danny's skin seemed to disconnect from his muscles as his veins rattled and nerves quaked underneath.
She stared down at him. The sterile lab lights glinted off the two round orange lenses covering her eyes.
Maybe we should do something different tonight. More fun. Maybe a game. Do you know 'would you rather'?
Yes he knew that game no he did not want to play it not here not ever never again—
"I think it's a good choice," said Lancer. "It's a great way to get to know each other better."
I think it would definitely help me get to know you.
He could actually hear her whispering in his head his mind her lips right next to his ears—
Lancer picked up the bin of scrap paper near the door and began walking around the room handing small bits of brightly colored paper to each student. "If you don't know how the game works, you simply write a question that begins with 'would you rather' and present two choices that everyone must choose between." He pointed an accusatory finger around the room. "I am familiar with everyone's handwriting, so keep it G-rated."
Dash dramatically groaned, causing an eruption of laughter. But Danny's insides only twisted more, knotting and bulging and crawling up his throat cutting off his air—
Lancer placed a strip of paper on his desk. Danny did not move. When Lancer didn't move either, Danny looked up at him.
"Everything all right, Danny?" asked Lancer with a concerned frown.
Danny could see Tucker and Sam studying him as well. He tried to pull in air to get a couple words out. "Yes, fine."
Lancer hovered a moment longer before resuming his walk around the room. Danny stared at the scrap paper on his desk, its bright orange color, the same color as his mother's goggle lenses.
"Don't share your questions with anyone," said Lancer as he set down the bin of scrap paper near the door again. "Keep it secret. I'll come around and collect them in a couple minutes."
All the students around him started scribbling. Tucker bent his head over his desk as he wrote. Sam tapped her chin with her pen a couple times before she began writing.
But Danny could only stare at the blank scrap of paper before him, so orange, orange, orange—
would you rather have your reflexes tested or your leg broken?
He closed his eyes and picked up his pen. He had to think of a question, had to play the game like a good student good boy—
would you rather have your pressure points tested or your arm set on fire?
NO he had to think of his own question now, not hers—
you don't get a turn, Phantom.
But it wasn't a game if he didn't get a turn, was it?
would you rather be shocked with electricity or have a tissue sample from your tongue removed?
Of course it wasn't a game, it was never a game because he could never win—
would you rather—
Danny opened his eyes and looked down at the piece of paper again, still blank, still orange. What question should he write? Would you rather lose a tooth or have your arm boiled—was that G-rated?
Lancer was already coming around and collecting the bits of paper in a plastic bowl. Danny folded up his blank paper and threw it into the bowl when Lancer approached him. He swallowed and propped his elbow on his desk, leaning his head into his hand. Sam and Tucker were both looking at him, but Danny pretended he didn't see them.
"Do I have everyone's?" asked Lancer from the front of the class. He used his fingers to mix up the paper in the bowl and then selected one at random. "All right, our first question is, 'Would you rather live the rest of your life with no air conditioning or no heating?'"
Several students raised their hands while others began chattering and debating amongst themselves. Lancer held up a hand to quiet everyone.
"We want to get through as many of these questions as possible before the bell, so how about we all just vote as a class?" Lancer wrote the two choices on the whiteboard. "Raise your hand if you'd rather live with no air conditioning."
Hands went up all around the room. Danny did not move.
"Raise your hand if you'd rather live with no heating."
More hands. Danny was still motionless.
Lancer pulled out another piece of paper, announced another question. But Danny didn't hear it, all he could hear was would you rather would you rather—
would you rather have your arm boiled or a section of your skin removed?
would you rather die now or die later Danny Danny Danny—
His hands started tingling, a painful numbness prickling at his fingertips, needling his nerves. He remembered this feeling, back in the lab, his chest shuddering and his legs giving out. He remembered how excited his mother had been to see him hyperventilate, how she had never seen a ghost hyperventilate before and she simply had to take some measurements and wow wasn't this just spectacular!
Yes, he was hyperventilating right now, that was definitely it—
He wanted to collapse to the floor but he couldn't, not here, not in class—
The tingling pins started shooting up his arms. Danny stared down at his shaking hands and flexed them, trying to remember what his mother told him in the lab, how to breathe correctly to make this all stop.
What did she say what did she say—
All he could remember were the choices she gave him, the torture she forced him to choose and beg her for over and over and over.
would you rather would you rather would you rather—
"Danny?"
Danny's eyes focused on Lancer, who was standing at the whiteboard with a marker in his hand.
"You haven't made your choice yet," said Lancer, gesturing to the two columns on the board, each with their own number of tally marks. "Which would you rather have happen to you?"
Danny tried to make sense of the choices presented in the two columns. Something about being in jail for five years or in a coma for ten but it made no sense, no sense at all, both options were painful, so awful, so terrible, and she would make him suffer both if he didn't choose fast if he didn't choose soon but he didn't want to choose he didn't want to lose but he couldn't win he had already lost everything she had taken it all and he could never get it back—
Danny stood, pressing his sweaty palms to his desk, panting and hunching over. His hands were almost entirely numb now.
"Danny?" Lancer sounded alarmed. "Are you all right?"
He could feel everyone's eyes on him, burning through him. Paulina and Kwan frowned, Star wrinkled her nose, Dash smirked, Sam and Tucker stared at him with open mouths.
No one moved. The clock seemed frozen, stuck in this single moment.
"Danny." Lancer broke through the freeze and started walking toward him. "Danny."
Don't get caught don't get caught don't get—
He ran. Bolted. Out the door and into the hall. His insides were flipping, his stomach was lurching. Why did he eat lunch today? Stupid, stupid idea—
"Danny!" Lancer called after him. "Danny, you need to come back."
Danny didn't look over his shoulder but he could hear Lancer's shoes thudding on the floor at a fast pace, running after him, coming for him. A couple teachers opened their classroom doors, staring curiously as Danny sprinted past.
He wished he could turn invisible but Phantom was still refusing to help him out.
No one could help him. He was on his own.
He rushed to the main entry hall of Casper High and burst through the front doors, running all the way to the street, turning on the sidewalk, still going, no stopping. Going where? Trees, somewhere with trees, yes. Because Jazz told him a long time ago that trees had healing properties or whatever and they used to tie crazy people to trees to calm them down and was he crazy? Because he didn't feel sane right now. Did not feel well, did not feel good.
The park had trees. The public park closest to the school, the one he and Sam and Tucker used to go to when they just wanted to hang out.
Used to? Would they ever go there together again?
He was going there now. That was all he could say for sure at this moment.
He picked up the pace now that he knew where he was going. If he could just get there, he'd be fine. Surely, surely. Up the street, through the crosswalk, onto the concrete trail that circled around the park.
His right knee buckled as his leg slammed into the ground with splintering pain. He fell forward, scraping his knee through his jeans against the cement before he could catch himself on both hands. He hissed and rolled over to sit, clutching at his stinging knee.
Pain throbbed through his right shin, tiny fractures webbing their way through his bone, a memory of how his mother had shattered it, smashed it right out of his skin with a sledgehammer, so dislocated that she had to surgically reset it and she didn't give him any anesthetic, ignored all his screaming and crying as she attempted to fix what she had broken.
He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as the pain started to dull. He pulled in several deep breaths, in and out, slow and even. The tingling in his hands fizzled out and his heart slowed, the tight muscles in his chest and shoulders relaxing little by little.
His senses began returning to him. He was safe, he was fine. She wasn't here, she couldn't hurt him right now. The sun was warm on his back and the breeze was stirring up all the leaves in the trees surrounding him and he could hear happy conversations and light laughter from others in the park.
He could breathe again.
He had control over his body now.
The control was no longer hers.
Still on the ground, Danny blew out a final breath through his mouth and opened his eyes. Someone was standing above him, a man with immaculately coiffed blond hair holding two dogs on leashes.
Danny froze, his stomach sinking as he instantly recognized his former therapist, Brandan Cross.
"Danny?" Brandan cocked his head. "Are you all right?"
God, not this guy. This had to be a joke.
Danny stared up at Brandan, noting his casual dark jeans and loose-fitting shirt. The edge of a tattoo peeked out from under one of the short sleeves, but Danny could not make out what it was supposed to be.
Brandan extended a hand to help him up. Danny ignored it and pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet. He winced and shook out his scraped knee a couple times. "I'm fine. I just tripped."
Brandan looked him up and down for a moment. His two dogs sat beside him, a border collie and a German shepherd, their tails wagging and tongues lolling out of their mouths.
"I know it's been over a month," said Brandan. "And we've only met the one time. It's Brandan Cross."
"Yeah. I remember," said Danny with a curt nod. "Therapy."
"Right," said Brandan. "I, uh… Well, I was very relieved to hear that you had returned home. It's really great to see you again."
Danny shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Everyone's been saying that."
"I'm sure they have. Your disappearance was big news for a while."
"I guess so."
An awkward silence. Danny stared at the dogs so he could avoid Brandan's gaze. The dogs stared back and panted, drool dripping off their large tongues.
"Is school out for the day?" Brandan turned, scanning the rest of the park. "I just haven't seen any other kids yet."
Danny inwardly flailed for some believable excuse why he wasn't at school and decided to turn it back on Brandan instead. "Well, what about you? Don't you have patients that need therapy?"
Brandan blinked a couple times before smiling kindly. "I can choose my own hours and usually work only in the morning on Fridays. I like to take my boys to the park in the afternoon if the weather is good enough."
He stroked the border collie's head, then the German shepherd's. Each dog's tail started wagging frantically as they looked up at Brandan.
"You can pet them if you want," said Brandan, returning his attention to Danny. "Atlas and Titan love meeting new people."
Danny stared at the dogs. The dogs were now both looking at him with eager anticipation, but still Danny did not move.
"Are you not a dog person?" asked Brandan.
"Uh—no," Danny stammered. "I mean, no, I do like dogs. I've wanted one ever since I was little."
"Then go ahead and pet them if you want!" said Brandan. "They'll love you forever."
Danny hesitated before slowly stretching his hand out toward the border collie's head and floppy ears, covered in what looked like such soft fur. The border collie's tail began wagging harder as his hand came closer, but then something stilled inside of him, dissolving all desire, no heart to continue. Danny's fingers curled in as he drew back his hand with a deep sigh.
Danny kept his eyes to the ground but could see Brandan frowning on the upper edge of his vision. He ducked his head even more.
"I know I'm not your therapist anymore," said Brandan, "but I'm here to listen if you want to talk."
"Talk about what?" asked Danny, kicking at a pebble on the park path.
"Anything," said Brandan. "Whatever's on your mind. Whatever is troubling you."
Danny pressed his lips in thought, chewing the inside of one cheek and then the other before looking at Brandan again with narrowed eyes. "What did you tell the cops?"
Brandan's stance faltered, his mouth hanging open a couple seconds before he responded. "What did I—what do you mean?"
"When the cops interviewed you, what did you tell them about me?" Danny articulated each word thickly, not even trying to hide the accusation in his tone. "About my mother?"
"I…" Brandan paused. "I told them the truth."
"And what do you think is the truth?"
Danny folded his arms. Brandan sighed deeply, shaking his head a few times as he looked down at his dogs.
"I just told them what I observed during our therapy session and what we talked about," he said, raising his eyes to meet Danny's again.
"What we talked about?" spat Danny. "You said that whatever I told you would be kept confidential. You promised you wouldn't tell anyone what we talked about."
"That was before you went missing," said Brandan, straightening his posture.
"I didn't go missing, I ran away," yelled Danny. "Okay? I was fine. I didn't need you talking to the police and telling them about me and my mom." Emotion began breaking into his voice. "I didn't need you and the media and everyone else making up stories about how my mom might've been involved and what she might've been doing to me while I was gone."
Brandan's bottom lip pulled up slightly. "Danny, all I said was that you acted like you were afraid when we discussed your mother. You seemed so distressed and didn't want to talk about her at all."
"I—that's not—"
"You were on the verge of tears, Danny."
"She didn't do anything to me," Danny nearly screamed. "I just ran away and then I came back."
Danny became aware of a few people nearby, staring, listening. He could feel heat flaring in his cheeks.
"Why did you feel the need to say anything about my mom?" he asked more quietly, his voice hoarse.
"I was worried about you, Danny," said Brandan.
"Worried about me? You don't even know me. You don't know anything about me."
"That's not true."
"It is true. We spoke one time, for one hour. You don't know what I've been through, what I'm going through right now." Danny scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Worried about me, that is such bullshit."
Brandan frowned, his eyes filling with what looked like pity. Danny wasn't sure he could hate this guy more.
"I'm sorry that I had to betray your trust by telling the police what we talked about," said Brandan. "But I thought you were in danger, and I wanted to help find you."
"You didn't help," said Danny, clenching his teeth. "You just made things worse for me."
Brandan sighed. "Danny—"
"No." Danny held out a hand to stop him. "Just do me a favor and don't try to help me anymore."
He ran off before Brandan could say anything more, away and away, past some onlookers and out of the park. He turned a corner so that the park and Brandan were both completely out of sight. Another block and then he stopped, panting. He knelt down on the sidewalk and massaged his aching shin as cars raced by him on the street.
He realized in that moment that he had left his phone and all of his other things in Lancer's classroom. Perfect. Just great. Now he couldn't even go home, he had to go back to get them.
He had no idea what time it even was. Had the final bell already rung?
A car pulled up next to him. Danny ignored it, still kneeling and pretending to be extremely occupied with rubbing his sore leg. He noted the small patch of blood staining the knee of the new jeans his mom bought him. Awesome. Wonderful.
The car's passenger side window rolled down, and the driver called out to him, "Danny."
Danny's nerves spiked. He turned his head to find that the car beside him was not just any car but a black police car with white striping and the letters APPD stamped on its side.
And driving the car was none other than Detective Sydney Calhoun, dressed in a blue Amity Park police uniform and looking at him quite sternly.
Danny slowly rose to his feet, unsure what to do, not even fully believing what he was seeing.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, tilting his head so he could see inside the car window better.
"That's my question to you, actually," said Calhoun, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while leaning toward the open window.
"But I mean, how did you know I was here?"
"We got a call that there was a teenage boy in the park possibly playing hooky. I'm here to take you back to school."
"But I thought you were a detective."
"I'm an officer, too."
Calhoun's lower face was serious beneath his mirrored sunglasses, betraying no hint of whatever was going on in his head. But Danny was sure that Brandan was somehow behind this. Brandan reported him to the cops, which was why Calhoun himself decided to come pick him up.
God damn both of these guys.
"Get in, Danny," said Calhoun.
Danny took a step back. "No, that's okay. I don't need a ride."
"It's not a request," said Calhoun. "Truancy is against the law."
"But school's almost over for the day."
"I could drop you off at home instead if you prefer. Could have a nice chat with your parents about why you skipped class today."
would you rather—
Calhoun continued staring at Danny from inside his car. Danny stared back, imagining what might happen if he showed up at home with the detective who was trying to find a reason to arrest his own mother for child abuse.
Vlad was right: This guy was not going to give up.
Danny hesitated only a moment longer before approaching the car.
"You can ride in the front," said Calhoun, leaning back into his own seat.
Danny opened the front passenger door and slid inside. He pulled the seat belt over his shoulder and fastened it but did nothing more, said nothing more. He breathed, in and out, folding his arms to hide his trembling hands.
Calhoun put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "So. What were you running away from this time?"
Danny's skin prickled. "What was I—what?"
"My investigation included interviews with your teachers and principal," said Calhoun. "I know that skipping class isn't new for you."
Danny rubbed his upper arms. "Yeah, okay. But I wasn't running away from anything."
"Really?" Calhoun drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Then why were you seen literally running into the park so fast that you tripped and fell?"
Danny tensed. "How do you know that?"
"That's what the caller reported to us."
Danny stared at Calhoun's profile. Calhoun kept his eyes forward on the road.
"It really was Brandan who called you, wasn't it?" said Danny, not bothering to hide his irritation.
"Danny, don't try to change the subject," said Calhoun. "Tell me why you aren't in class right now."
He could hear Sam's voice screaming in his head to stay silent, never talk to cops, Danny, never!
But he had to say something, right? Calhoun already knew he wasn't in class when he was supposed to be, so he had to make up some kind of convincing lie to explain it, right?
"It was the last class of the day, and I…was bored," stammered Danny. "English is my least favorite class, and I just really wanted to get out of there."
"Hmm." Calhoun nodded a couple times. "And if I were to interview your English teacher, would Mr. Robert Lancer tell me a different story?"
Danny could practically feel the blood draining from his face.
"And what would I see if I were to check the school's security camera footage?"
Danny's breaths were shallow, so loud in his ears. He stared at the detective, waiting for him to lower his sunglasses and show off his flashing red eyes while his lips curled into a smirk.
But Vlad really wasn't here right now. There was no one here to help him, no one on his side.
God damn it, the screaming Sam voice had been right, he should've just kept his stupid mouth shut.
The car pulled up to the curb in front of Casper High. No students were out on the front walkway or lawn, so Danny knew the final bell hadn't rung just yet. He unbuckled his seat belt.
"Danny, please." Calhoun removed his sunglasses and pinned Danny in place with his serious brown eyes. "I want to help you. But you have to talk to me."
Danny stiffened, staring back at Calhoun.
"You have to start telling me the truth," said Calhoun.
Danny tried to swallow to restart his lungs. Several times, gasping for an opening in his throat.
"Danny?" Calhoun frowned, his concerned gaze roaming over Danny's face.
"Can…" Danny sucked in the biggest breath he could. "Can I leave?" he managed to force out.
Calhoun's expression didn't falter.
"Can I leave?" Danny tried again, his voice a little stronger.
Calhoun stared at him a moment longer before nodding. "Yes." He replaced his sunglasses on his face. "I'll be watching from here to make sure you enter the building."
Danny pushed the door open, stumbling out of the car and shutting the door behind him. He took a few steps toward the school but stopped when he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye.
He turned and stared at the white van parked in front of the police car. His skin crawled, unease creeping through his nerves.
He couldn't see who was in the driver's seat from this angle and he was afraid to check, afraid that he might actually see a man wearing an all-white suit at the wheel—
"Is something wrong?" asked Calhoun through the open passenger side window.
Danny jumped and ran off, away from the detective and the white van and toward the school. His leg strained and ached but Danny ignored it, clenching his teeth against the pain because he had to get away had to get to safety—
what are you running away from this time?
The bell rang as soon as Danny burst through the front doors of Casper High. Within seconds, students began filing out of the classrooms, laughing and hollering and chatting. Many gave him odd looks as they pushed past him, but no one tried to speak to him.
Danny kept his head down and charged toward his locker. When he arrived, Sam and Tucker were already there, filling their backpacks with the textbooks they would need for homework over the weekend.
"Danny!" cried Sam, looking up from where she knelt on the floor as she zipped up her bag. "We were so worried about you."
"Here, dude," said Tucker, handing him his notebooks, pen, and cell phone. "I grabbed these for you."
"Thanks." Danny took them, relieved that he didn't have to retrieve them himself after all.
"Lancer asked us to tell you to go back and speak to him if we saw you." Sam rose to her feet and slung her backpack over one shoulder.
"Yeah, that's not happening," said Danny flatly. He turned to his locker and spun the dial, one way and then the other. His locker opened with a click.
Sam and Tucker stood behind him, waiting, watching. Danny ignored them as he opened his backpack and began placing items inside.
"So, uh…" Tucker cleared his throat. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," said Danny into his locker.
"Well, it's just, uh…" Tucker paused. "I mean, I'm surprised you even remember your locker combo. You used to always just phase your things in and out of it."
Danny pulled his backpack out and closed the locker with a firm slam. "I haven't really felt like using my powers lately," he said, still not looking at Sam and Tucker as he zipped up his backpack.
"Care to tell us why?" asked Sam.
Danny at last locked eyes with her. She gave him a weak smile.
"Not right now," she said quickly. "But tonight? At Tucker's house?"
Danny frowned and cocked his head.
"We're still hanging out at Tucker's tonight, aren't we?" Sam wrung her hands.
"Are we?" asked Danny.
"Yeah, dude," said Tucker. "You said we could give you your birthday presents tonight at my place."
Danny racked his brain for the memory, a very vague recollection of Sam and Tucker begging him to take a break from his makeup work for just one night and Danny grudgingly agreeing.
"Oh, sorry." Danny shook his head. "I totally forgot."
"That's okay," said Sam. "It's been a busy week for all of us." She held both of her backpack straps, her fingers drumming once against them. "So you're still good with coming over?"
"I don't know, guys," said Danny. "I still have a lot of makeup work to do before the semester ends."
"But it's Friday," pressed Tucker. "You have the whole weekend to do homework."
"And we can help you if you want," said Sam. "We're willing to even do some of it for you."
"You know you have to take advantage of Sam offering to help you cheat before she changes her mind," said Tucker, grinning.
Danny tried to come up with another excuse, anything. For once, he actually missed being grounded.
Jazz strolled by just then, a textbook in her arm and a heavy-looking backpack hanging off one shoulder. "Danny, are you wanting me to take you home first today? Or are you going with Sam and Tucker straight to Tucker's house?"
"I was kind of hoping we could hit up Nasty Burger first," said Tucker. "We haven't eaten there together in ages."
"It's Danny's birthday, so he should get to choose," said Sam, hands on her hips.
"Yeah, but we both know Danny loves Nasty Burger." Tucker wrapped an arm around Danny's shoulders. "You're totally up for a juicy cheeseburger, right?"
Danny fought the urge to push Tucker off of him. Was Tucker always this annoying and touchy with him? Did he ever actually like it, or did he just put up with it?
"I'm not really that hungry," said Danny truthfully. The thought of shoving a greasy burger down his throat made his stomach turn already.
"I have my car, so we can go anywhere," said Sam. "What sounds fun to you? The mall? The arcade? The park?"
Danny shuddered at the mention of the park. He wondered if Brandan was still there walking his dogs.
"Actually, um…" Danny slipped out of Tucker's hold and kept his eyes to the floor. "I'm feeling pretty exhausted. I think I should probably just go home for now."
No one said anything for a moment. Danny could see Sam, Tucker, and Jazz exchanging looks on the upper periphery of his vision.
"That's maybe a good idea," said Jazz. "You've been working hard on all that makeup homework all week. You could take a nap at home first, and then later I can drop you off at Tucker's house."
"Yeah," said Sam. "I don't mind waiting a bit first to freshen up."
"Sounds good to me," said Tucker.
Their heads bobbed in robotic nods. Danny sighed and raised his eyes. He had been dreading this moment, the eventual hang-out where they would finally speak privately and discuss where he really was the three weeks he had been missing.
And he knew he had to tell them some kind of convincing story. Not even the cops believed that he simply ran away and managed to stay hidden until he was ready to come back.
He couldn't put this off forever. But maybe he could stall just a little longer so he could rehearse all of his lies.
"Can we just hang out tomorrow instead?" he asked. "I really am burned out right now."
His friends and sister exchanged glances again, and this time he could clearly see their concern and confusion.
"I'll be good tomorrow," said Danny, forcing a smile. "It's just, uh… Today was rough."
"We figured after what happened in class," said Sam, sounding hesitant.
Jazz frowned. "What happened in class?"
"We can talk about it tomorrow," said Danny quickly. "I promise."
Sam, Tucker, and Jazz looked at each other again, and Danny wondered what secret conversations they had been having about him behind his back. Jazz had already told him they used to discuss his possible painkiller addiction, so this wouldn't be anything new.
Whatever. They could say what they wanted about him. He didn't care.
Really. He didn't. Honest.
"Okay," said Sam with a slow nod. "Tomorrow is okay, too."
Down the hall, Lancer was speaking and walking with another teacher. Danny stiffened and turned, leading the way to Casper High's main doors.
what are you running away from this time?
He could hear Jazz whispering something to Sam and Tucker behind him as he walked, probably asking them to wait, hang on, so what happened with Danny today? How should she talk to him on the car ride home so she could properly psychoanalyze him and needle out all of the very personal details and hey maybe even make him break down again so she could practice all her latest therapy techniques on her poor fragile traumatized little brother?
Well, fuck that. He wasn't telling her anything about the incident in Lancer's class. She would just have to wait until tomorrow to hear whatever lie he came up with to explain it.
Outside on the front walkway leading to the street, Danny stopped and scanned the curb. Calhoun's police car and the white van were both gone, but his heart still raced with the memory.
"Danny?" Jazz came up next to him. "What are you looking for?"
Danny jumped and shook his head. "Nothing."
He followed Jazz to the student parking lot, Sam and Tucker close behind. He kept his eyes forward and did not look at the street again.