Author's note: I enjoyed writing this one!


Ghost on the Couch

May 1 (part one)

Lunchtime at Casper High. Danny caught a couple students looking at him from the next table over. They quickly turned their backs on him after he shot them a glare.

"Danny, relax," said Sam. "No one is talking about you."

Danny watched as another student walked over and greeted the two students he thought had been looking at him. They both scooted over so their friend could sit between them.

Maybe they really were just watching their friend walk toward them. Maybe they really weren't looking at him at all.

Danny turned his attention back to Sam and Tucker. "You're right, I know. I'm jumping to conclusions, I'm personalizing, I'm emotionally reasoning, I'm—"

Danny groaned and buried his head in his arms folded on the table in front of his lunch tray.

"God, I'm a mess," he said, his voice muffled.

"You're not a mess," said Sam. "You're just human."

"Half human," corrected Tucker.

Sam glared at him. Tucker smiled apologetically and stabbed at his food with his fork.

"But I mean…" Danny raised his head and rubbed the back of his neck, keeping his gaze on the table. "I've been doing all this therapy and I'm still making all the same thinking errors."

He picked up a french fry from his tray, still warm and coated with salt. He brought it to his lips but then set it back down.

"I just don't know why Dash insists on making my life miserable," he muttered.

"Telling everyone you're in therapy was pretty low," agreed Sam. "Not that I'd expect any better from Dash."

"Even worse, he's been taking credit for it," said Tucker. "I've heard him bragging about how he's the reason you're seeing a therapist."

"What an ass." Sam rolled her eyes. "Only Dash could be proud of hurting someone that much."

"Honestly, I wish it were true," said Danny. "Like I wish Dash could be my biggest problem right now. I'd love to go back to when I was just worrying about when Dash might stuff me in my locker again and not if Skulker might kidnap me and skin me alive."

Tucker shuddered. "I still get sick thinking about that."

"Yeah, me too," said Danny. "Dash is just a small annoyance compared to my ghost problems."

"Especially after your mom reported him to the principal," said Tucker. "He hasn't touched you at all since then."

"But I know he hates me for it," grumbled Danny. "Even though I begged my mom not to, he hates that he can't physically hurt me anymore. Which is why he was only too happy to tell the whole school I'm in therapy. Words are all he has to hurt me right now."

Danny picked up another fry and succeeded in putting it in his mouth this time. But it tasted almost rancid on his tongue, nothing he actually wanted to swallow. He forced it down with a hard gulp.

"And now that the entire school knows, I just feel like that's all anyone's been talking about," he said with a gloomy sigh.

"They're not talking about it," said Sam. "I promise they're not."

"I know, I know, this is just emotional reasoning, but—" Danny groaned.

"Which one is that again?" asked Tucker, a bite of food in his cheek as he spoke.

"Emotional reasoning is when you believe something is true just because you feel something," said Danny, pinching and massaging his neck.

"Oh, right." Tucker swallowed. "Like if you feel afraid whenever you're in a crowded public area, you believe that to mean you really are in danger and something bad will definitely happen."

"Yeah," said Danny somewhat curtly, not wanting to engage the topic any further. He would soon be talking about thinking errors in great detail with Brandan that afternoon; he didn't need it right now.

"But I really haven't heard anyone talking about you," insisted Sam.

"Even if they're not actually talking about me, they still know I'm seeing a therapist every week." Danny flicked at the food on his tray. "And that's not much better."

"I don't know why you're so bothered about this," said Sam. "Like half the kids at this school are in therapy, too."

Danny raised a brow.

"Okay, maybe half is an exaggeration," said Sam, "but it's a lot more than you think. You're not the only teen whose parents have forced them into therapy."

"Yeah, but they're not going around telling everyone about it," said Danny. "It's still a secret for them. Seeing a therapist isn't exactly the kind of thing you brag about."

"Speaking of bragging, Dash and his football buddies are headed this way," said Tucker, using a fry to point over Danny's shoulder.

Danny tensed. "Do I have time to bolt out of here?"

"Nope," said Tucker.

"Hey, Fentonia!"

Danny groaned and wished he could crawl under the table but forced himself to sit up straight and turn toward Dash and a couple of other jocks in matching letterman jackets.

"What do you want, Dash?" snapped Sam.

"Still need your girlfriend to speak for you, Fenton?" asked Dash. "Your therapist hasn't helped you figure out how to man up?"

"What do you want, Dash?" asked Danny himself this time, though his tone was flat and uninterested.

"It's Monday," said Dash. "Monday's the day you see your shrink, isn't it?"

Danny narrowed his eyes but otherwise did not respond.

"I was just telling the guys here that I think it's really great you're finally trying to get some professional help," said Dash. "I mean, it can't be easy being you. I know I'd probably want to kill myself if I had to be a scrawny freak like you."

The jocks all whooped in agreement. Danny could see the vein in Sam's temple pulsing as her face reddened and teeth clenched.

"What are you gonna talk about with your therapist today, Fenton?" asked Dash, his tone mockingly inquisitive. "Are you gonna tell her about this right now, about how your big bully was mean to you at lunch?"

"Danny's therapist is a guy," said Tucker. Danny shot him a fierce glare, causing Tucker to wince and shrink back.

"Oh, sorry, my mistake." Dash sneered. "Of course Fenton would be seeing a guy."

"I didn't choose him," muttered Danny.

"Did your mommy choose him?" Dash laughed. "Of course she did. She has to do everything for you, doesn't she? She even had to come in and take care of your big mean bully for you."

"I didn't tell her to do that, Dash," said Danny, fighting back a ghostly flash in his eyes.

"So what did you tell her, Fenton?" Dash's smirk faded, his expression turning angry. "You must've told her something about me. Why else would she report me and get me nearly kicked off the football team?"

Danny locked eyes with him, not backing down but saying nothing because he wasn't about to say that it was actually Jazz who finally told their mother what Dash had been doing to him since the start of freshman year.

The jocks surrounding Dash were now quiet, murmuring and whispering with each other as Danny and Dash continued their staredown.

"Dash, that's enough." Sam slammed her fists on the table and stood. "Get out of here."

Dash broke eye contact with Danny and scoffed in amusement as he met Sam's stare instead. "Fenturd's girlfriend coming to his rescue again, is she?"

"Lay off, Dash," barked Sam. "Don't make me report you to the principal."

"Hey, I'm allowed to talk to Fenton," said Dash. "I'm just not allowed to touch him."

Dash made a big show of hovering his hand over Danny's shoulder, waving it around his back. Danny scowled and leaned away, causing the jocks to laugh.

"What you're doing right now is still bullying," spat Sam. "Now shove off."

The jocks whooped and buzzed mockingly. Dash stared at Sam a moment longer before smirking and leaving the table without another word, all the jocks in tow.

"Jeez, Dash really is the biggest asshole," said Tucker.

Danny pushed his lunch tray away, too glum to eat another bite.

The day wore on. Normally, Danny wanted Monday classes to go as slowly as possible to psychologically delay his therapy session, but with Dash sneering every time they passed each other and all the whispers exchanged in the hall that he was just sure were about him, he couldn't wait for the final bell to ring.

Especially since Dash just had to be in his last class of the day.

"I'm passing out a short story to everyone right now," said Lancer, moving up and down the columns of desks and handing each student a printout. "I want you to read in groups of two. Feel free to read with someone next to you or move around the room to read with whomever you like."

The room filled with noise and commotion as students chattered and moved their desks to be next to friends.

"Mr. Lancer, is a group of three okay?" asked Sam, raising her hand but not waiting to be called on.

"Two," reiterated Lancer. "With Mr. Kwan absent, there's an even number of you today. You and Mr. Foley can be partners while Mr. Fenton can read with someone else."

Sam and Tucker gave Danny apologetic looks. Danny shrugged and smiled. He then looked around the room, watching as Paulina quickly paired up with Star. He sighed, wishing he had the nerve to talk to her without waiting for her to approach him first.

"Pssst, Fenton," whispered Dash from a couple desks behind him.

Danny shut his eyes, breathing to calm himself.

"Fenton," Dash called a little louder.

"What do you want?" snapped Danny, turning around in his seat.

Dash flashed him a toothy grin. "Wanna be my reading buddy?"

Danny scowled and turned to face forward again.

"Aw, you're not still mad at me after what I said at lunch, are you?" asked Dash. "Kwan's at the dentist today, so there's no one left. It's just us two."

"I'm not reading with you," said Danny without turning.

"Come on, don't be like that." Dash's desk legs scraped the floor as he pushed his desk forward.

Danny jumped out of his seat and placed his hands on Dash's desk, stopping it from moving any closer. "I said no."

"We have to, Fenton," said Dash. "Groups of two, and we're the only two left."

"I don't care. I'm not reading with you," said Danny, gritting his teeth.

"Well, well!" Dash laughed. "Someone's pissy today. It's a good thing you're seeing your shrink after class, isn't it? Because you could certainly use an attitude adjustment."

Dash started pushing his desk again, but Danny pushed back, matching his strength. Dash's brows furrowed as he tried pushing harder, but Danny kept the desk in place with ease.

"Fuck off," hissed Danny in a low voice. "Fuck off and leave me alone."

Dash gasped and raised his hand. "Mr. Lancer, Danny just cussed me out with a word I dare not repeat in the classroom."

"Mr. Fenton, is there a problem?" asked Lancer from his desk, sounding very tired and irritated.

"No problem that his therapist can't fix, I'm sure," jeered Dash, loud enough for everyone to hear.

All eyes were on them now. Danny could hear whispers and murmurs that he knew for sure were definitely about him.

And it was enough.

"Fine, Dash, you win," said Danny, taking his hands off Dash's desk. "Everyone knows I'm in therapy now. Everyone knows I'm just so fucked up in the head that I have to get professional help for it."

A few students gasped, but the whispers had disappeared, nothing but silence. Even Lancer was too stunned to speak, his eyes wide as he watched.

"I mean, is this what you wanted?" continued Danny. "For everyone to see me as weak as you see me?" He turned one way and then the other, looking at all the faces staring back at him, holding out his hands to acknowledge them. "Yes, everyone, it's true, it's just as Dash has been saying. I'm seeing a therapist. Please pity me or laugh at me or talk about me behind my back because that's what Dash here wants. And apparently he's not going to leave me alone until he gets exactly what he wants."

Danny turned his focus back to Dash with a mirthless scoff of laughter. Dash's eye was twitching, a look of discomfort replacing his arrogant smirk.

"God, I wish I knew what you wanted," said Danny. "I just want to give you everything you want from me so that maybe you'll finally fuck off and leave me alone."

"Mr. Fenton," boomed Lancer's drawling voice.

"I know, I know, Mr. Lancer," said Danny, holding up his hands. "That's probably detention for the rest of the semester. But I can't go today because, as you and everyone here now know, I have to go see my therapist right after school."

"Danny," said Lancer more quietly. "Can you step outside with me a moment? And Mr. Baxter, I will be seeing you right after class for detention."

"Mr. Lancer, I have football practice today," said Dash. "Coach won't allow it."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I will speak to Coach Evans and tell him exactly why you'll be late," said Lancer.

Dash's eyes widened with brief surprise before hardening into a glare at Danny.

"Mr. Fenton, please," said Lancer, gesturing toward the doorway.

Danny did not hesitate and swiftly headed toward the door, not even glancing at Sam and Tucker as he walked past them.

"The rest of you, please start reading that story," said Lancer as he followed Danny out of the room.

Danny leaned against a wall, staring at the floor as Lancer closed the classroom door and joined him.

"Danny?" Lancer's voice was calm. "Are you all right?"

Danny was shaking with anger and frustration, and now as realization about what he just did dawned on him, humiliation as well. He shook his head, afraid he would start crying if he tried to speak.

"I know you've been going through a difficult time lately," said Lancer. "And I normally would write you up for an outburst like that, but given your circumstances lately and your past with Dash, I'm willing to let this go this time."

Danny breathed out, nodding his thanks.

"But I need you to be honest with me right now," said Lancer. "Is Dash still bullying you? Is he hurting you at all?"

Danny breathed again, settling his nerves and opening his throat up enough to speak. "No," he said quietly. "I—I'm sorry, I got carried away in there. I shouldn't have yelled like that."

"Danny—"

"I was just—Dash saw me coming out of my therapist's office last week, and now he's told everyone, and—I don't know. I know I shouldn't be so embarrassed about it, but I am." He drew in another shaky breath. "I really, really am."

Lancer waited a moment before replying. "I understand," he said. "Therapy is a very private thing, and Mr. Baxter made it public without your consent."

Danny folded his arms tightly against his body as he hunched over.

"You can come back inside whenever you're ready," said Mr. Lancer. "Or if you'd like, you can head to the office and see if you can speak with our school counselor."

Danny nodded his understanding but knew that there was no way in hell he was going to speak with the school counselor, not when he still had to speak with Brandan as soon as school was over.

"And I won't report this as I said, but I will have to send an email to your mother," said Lancer.

Danny looked up with wide eyes flooding with panic. "Mr. Lancer, no, please don't—"

"You know I have to," said Lancer. "I'm just being kind and letting you know ahead of time."

Danny tried to stammer out some kind of plea, but Lancer only shook his head and reentered the classroom. Danny stared at the closed door, frozen, catastrophizing what would happen once his mother found out what he had done.

Ground him or call the school and demand Dash be permanently kicked off the football team and then Dash would come after him and would have no reason to restrain himself—

Damn it, he had just gone over this thinking error with Brandan last week and was already failing at combating it.

Which was another thinking error—which one, more catastrophizing or was it polarized thinking—?

He couldn't even think straight because oh God why did he have to make such a scene in class?

He shouldn't have. He should've just kept his mouth shut and read that stupid story with Dash.

The minutes ticked past, and Danny couldn't bring himself to go back into the classroom or head to the office and explain himself to the principal or guidance counselor. So instead he sank to the floor and hugged his legs, burying his face in his knees as he waited for the bell to ring.

When the bell at last rang, Danny jumped up and sprinted away from the classroom, too ashamed to let any of his classmates see his face for the rest of the day. He couldn't even face Sam and Tucker again. God, what did they think about his tantrum?

No, no, he wasn't supposed to jump to conclusions—

But he couldn't help it. Were they as embarrassed as he was? Embarrassed they could have a friend prone to such emotional outbursts that needed correction in therapy?

He shouldn't have done it, he should've controlled himself, he should he should he should have—

He hurried to his locker, anxious to collect and organize all of his things before Sam and Tucker could get there. He would then head straight to the parent pickup area before anyone could see him. The hall was already filling with students but he didn't see any of his classmates yet.

He phased his hand through his locker and grabbed his backpack. Quickly, quickly—

"Fenton!" Dash's voice called from down the hall.

Danny seized up, his heart skipping a whole beat.

Faster, faster—

He slung his backpack over just one shoulder—no time to get the second strap on the other shoulder—and headed at a brisk pace toward the school's main doors.

Almost, almost—

Dash slid in front of him, blocking his path to the doors.

"Fenton, wait," said Dash. "I just wanna talk."

"Well, I don't," said Danny, trying to move around him. "My mom's waiting for me, and I can't be late for therapy, you know."

"Fenton, please." Dash put a hand out to stop him but was careful not to actually touch him. "Come on, just give me a minute."

"Shouldn't you be getting to detention?" asked Danny, narrowing his eyes.

Dash sighed, looking down at the floor and shaking his head. Several students walked past them, staring at them curiously before exiting the building.

"Yeah, I need to get back to Lancer's classroom," said Dash, sounding defeated. "But I just wanted to ask you something first."

Danny widened his stance and crossed his arms, admittedly curious.

"Uh…" Dash rubbed the back of his neck, tugging at the collar of his letterman jacket. "Okay, look. Just tell me. Do you talk about me? With your therapist?"

Danny blinked. Of all the questions he might've expected Dash to ask, this was nowhere on his list. "Do I talk about you?" He shrugged, scoffing. "Honestly, no."

Dash cocked his head. "Really?"

"Really," said Danny with a curt nod.

Dash looked relieved at first, but then he scowled, almost looking offended. "Well, why not? Maybe I just need to leave a bigger impression on you."

He balled one hand into a fist and popped it into his other open hand. Danny rolled his eyes.

"Dash, is this really what you wanted to say to me?" asked Danny dully. "Is this really the whole reason you chased me down?"

Dash hesitated, lowering his hands and stuffing them in his jacket pockets. "Well, um… I mean, I know I've been saying it to a lot of people, but I'm not, um… I'm not really the reason you're in therapy, am I?"

Danny raised a brow.

"I just don't think my coach would like hearing that," said Dash, looking at the floor. "I mean, if that were really true."

"Do you want it to be true, Dash?" asked Danny. "Would that be like unlocking the ultimate achievement as a bully?"

Dash groaned. "Damn, Fenton, you are not making this easy for me."

"You've never made anything easy for me, Dash."

An uncomfortable silence buoyed between them. Students continued shuffling around them and pushing through the main doors outside, laughing and chatting about mundane topics.

"No, Dash," Danny said at last. "I'm not in therapy because of you or anything you did. Believe it or not, I have bigger problems than you."

Dash's brow knitted. "You do?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "You're not even on my list of top ten concerns. I barely think about you outside of school."

"What other big concerns could you possibly be dealing with, Fenton?"

Dash looked genuinely curious, but Danny shook his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," said Danny. "I have no intention of trying to get you kicked off the football team." He paused before adding, "Not that I owe you that."

"No," said Dash. "I guess you don't."

More silence between them, more students bustled around and past them.

"Are you going to tell your mom what happened in class today?" asked Dash. "And at lunch? I mean, are you going to tell her what I said to you?"

Danny shook his head. "No."

Dash released a huge breath of relief.

"But Lancer said he was going to email her about what happened in class," said Danny. "And I can't stop him from doing that."

"Shit," Dash muttered. He looked down at the floor, tapping his foot a few times. "All right, look, this isn't an apology, but I just wanted to catch you before you left to let you know that…that I'm going to lay off of you for real now."

Danny frowned, not sure if he was hearing right.

"So can you just maybe tell your mom I said that?" Dash scratched the back of his head, his other hand shoved deep in his jacket pocket. "Just so maybe she won't call the principal or anything when she finds out about today?"

Danny paused before slowly nodding. "Yeah. Sure. I'll tell her."

Dash sighed. "I do miss whaling on you. You always had the best reactions, the funniest comebacks. I think I remember hearing you say to your friends once that you were my favorite, and it was true, you know?"

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" asked Danny.

"No," said Dash quickly. "I'm just saying—I mean, you were always worth seeking out. I could always count on you for some fun." He shrugged. "In a weird way, I kind of thought of us as friends."

Another silence fell between them, a softer one this time. Dash's expression was sober, and Danny stared at him, studying him.

Then Dash's mouth twitched, and Danny could feel his own mirroring. Dash snorted, causing both to burst into laughter.

"I had you going for a minute there, didn't I?" asked Dash with a wide grin.

"For a minute, yeah," said Danny, also grinning. "Just a little confused."

"But I wasn't lying about whaling on you being the most fun for me," said Dash wistfully. "I do actually miss that."

"Yeah, well, I don't," said Danny, his grin drying.

"Aw, you cut me deep, Fenton." Dash theatrically put a hand to his chest.

"Danny!" called a couple of voices. Danny turned to find Sam and Tucker running up to him, their faces lined with worry and alarm.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam. "You never came back into the classroom."

"And then we tried finding you, but you weren't at your locker," said Tucker.

"What's going on here?" Sam narrowed her eyes at Dash. "Is Dash bothering you again?"

Dash held up his hands, palms out. "Take it easy, Fenton's girlfriend."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Sam spat. "Just because I care about Danny doesn't mean we're dating."

"It's fine, Sam," said Danny, looking at Dash. "Dash was just leaving. He doesn't want to be late for detention, after all."

"I really don't," said Dash, inclining his head. "And you've gotta get to therapy, Fenton."

"Ahaha, that I do," said Danny with a wry smile, pointing a finger gun at Dash.

Dash smiled back and gave him a small salute before walking back toward the halls, his chest out and head high as usual.

"What was that all about?" asked Tucker.

Danny chortled and shook his head. "I have no idea."

He pushed through the school's main doors and stepped into the sunshine, the fresh spring air. Sam and Tucker ran after him, flanking him.

"Danny, are you okay?" asked Sam. "I mean, after what happened in the classroom. You were super pissed."

"Yeah, I've never seen you yell at anyone like that," said Tucker. "Not even ghosts."

"Everyone was still talking about it when the bell rang," said Sam. "And then we saw Dash bolt out of the room, and we were worried that he was looking for you."

"Well." Danny shrugged. "He found me."

"What did he say to you?" asked Sam. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," said Danny. "Really, Sam, nothing happened. It's fine, I'm fine. Dash was just telling me that he's going to stop picking on me for real now."

"For real?" echoed Tucker. "Like, for real for real?"

"That's what he said."

"Do you believe him?" asked Sam.

Danny thought for a moment, his mouth drawing into a pout. "Yeah," he said. "I think I do. That felt pretty final."

Sam frowned, tilting her head. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, really," said Danny. He turned to face Sam and Tucker fully, holding out his hands and bowing slightly. "Now if you'll excuse me, Dash was right. I need to get to therapy."

A few students turned to stare, but Danny didn't even care who heard him say it anymore. They all knew he was in therapy now; it was done and he couldn't change it.

He had to move on.

He left Sam and Tucker without another word, walking with his head and eyes up. He spotted Maddie's car in the parent pickup area, then he saw Maddie sitting in the passenger seat.

He checked that his learner's permit was in his pocket before opening the back door to set down his school bag and then opening the front door to climb into the driver's seat.

"Getting you to drive isn't going to be a fight today?" asked Maddie as she watched him adjust the mirrors and buckle his seat belt.

"Nope," said Danny, shifting the car into drive and checking for traffic before pulling away from the curb.

"Well, how was school?"

Danny hesitated before answering, but judging from her chipper tone, it appeared that Lancer had not yet sent her an email about what happened in class with Dash.

"It was okay," he said, not sure if he was being honest or not. The day had been rough, but he really did feel okay now. Laughing with Dash had somehow lightened his mood, loosened his tight nerve endings.

Laughing with Dash, he had never thought such a thing could happen.

"Nice stop," said Maddie as Danny came up to a stop sign at a four-way intersection. "Very smooth."

"Thanks." Danny smiled. "My mom's been making me practice."

"And I was right to, wasn't I? Mom always knows best, you know."

Danny thought back to when Maddie first found out about Dash bullying him, how he was furious at Jazz for telling her and even more upset when his mom insisted on reporting it to the principal. Danny had begged her to not do it, assuring her that he was fine and Dash really wasn't hurting him that much.

But he wasn't fine back then.

And now Dash had at last promised to stop targeting him.

Maybe his mom really had been right about that after all.

"You were right, Mom," said Danny, nodding. "I should've been practicing more all this time. Maybe I would've passed my test if I had."

Maddie reached over and squeezed his knee. "Don't feel bad about that, Danny. You're not the first to fail, and you won't be the last. You're a great driver."

Danny glanced down at her hand on his knee before returning his eyes to the road.

"I'll schedule another test," said Maddie, putting her hand back into her lap. "Whenever you feel ready to take it. I'll let you decide this time, just let me know."

"Next year?"

"Within reason, Danny."

"Okay, then maybe after finals. I'll be done with therapy by then, too. I'll be good to focus on the driving test completely."

Maddie did not respond, and her silence felt quite pregnant.

"What?" asked Danny, not taking his eyes off the road.

"I've been getting progress reports from Brandan," said Maddie. "And I even met with him in person last week to discuss how you've been doing."

Danny's gut twinged.

"He says your sessions with him have been very productive," Maddie continued, "that you've opened up about a lot of very hard topics."

Danny bit the inside of his lower lip in an attempt to keep a straight face. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"And I've been seeing some improvement, too. In your attitude, in your willingness to do certain things you were hesitant about before." Maddie paused. "I know we made that deal that you only have to attend therapy until the week before finals, which means that next week would be your last therapy session."

Danny pulled up to a red light and turned his head all the way to the left, away from her, checking for traffic before turning right.

"Danny," said Maddie gently. "Next week doesn't have to be your last session. Do you think maybe you'll want to continue after all?"

Danny finished making the right turn before answering, not at all considering the possibility that he might want to continue but trying to decide the best way to tell her.

Once the turn was complete, he figured he might as well be direct and honest.

"No," he said. "I definitely do not want to continue. Honestly, if I could quit today, I would. But we made a deal, and I'm not about to break it now."

Maddie sighed deeply. "And I of course will also honor it. I guess I'm just hoping that you might change your mind by next week."

Danny said nothing, didn't even shrug. He could see the sign for the pizza restaurant coming up at the next turn.

"I'm just so proud of you for working so hard and doing this for me." Maddie rubbed his back, and Danny could hear the smile in her voice. "I hope you at least still don't hate me for making you do this."

"I never hated you," said Danny. "I mean, Mom, I know you're always looking out for me and anything you make me do is because you think it's good for me."

Maddie hummed. "That's right. I'm your mama, and I will never stop worrying about you and making sure my sweet boy is happy and healthy."

Danny rolled his eyes and chuckled as he pulled in to the parking lot for the pizza restaurant and therapy offices. "Mom, you don't need to say it like that."

"You've always been a good boy, Danny." Maddie leaned in and kissed the side of his head. "I couldn't be prouder of you."

She unbuckled her seat belt, but Danny stayed still, contemplating her words.

"You couldn't?" he echoed.

"Mmm mmm," said Maddie, shaking her head. "Why? Do you think I could?"

Danny wondered if she might feel a little less proud of him when she finally read that email from Lancer.

And then he recalled her words from just moments earlier, about how she hoped he would change his mind and continue therapy.

Would that make her prouder? If he kept trying to get better for her?

Would she maybe forgive him for his outburst in class if he agreed to keep talking to Brandan each week?

He wordlessly handed his phone to her and unbuckled his own seat belt. Outside, she wrapped her arm around him and led the way upstairs.

Could he maybe continue therapy for his mother's sake and not his own?

In her embrace, Danny was sure he could make her prouder if he just stopped being so selfish.