Author's note: I am sooooo sorry about the wait on this one, I didn't even realize how long it had been. But good news! I have finished writing this fic and so the remaining chapters should come out more quickly. I hope you all enjoy!
Ghost on the Couch
May 1 (part two)
Two more times. He only had to do this two more times, Danny reminded himself as he waited next to Maddie in the lobby. Today and next week and then that was it. No more therapy, no more Brandan. He would have his Mondays back.
Maddie was busy looking at something on her phone. Danny kept glancing at her, sure that he would recognize it in her face if she had received an email from Lancer about Danny's outburst in class.
"What?" Maddie lowered her phone. "Why do you keep looking at me, sweetie?"
"Oh! Um, I didn't realize I was." Danny felt a blush blooming in his cheeks and turned away to hide it.
"Is there something you want to say?" asked Maddie.
"Um." Danny shrugged. "No. I mean, well, yes—but maybe later. After therapy."
"Brandan's not here yet," said Maddie. "We have some time now if you want to tell me."
Danny shook his head. "No, no. Later would be better, really."
Maddie smiled softly and gently rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, honey."
She went back to looking at her phone, and Danny prayed to whatever God there might be that Lancer would wait at least a couple more minutes to send that email during his therapy session. It would maybe give his mom a chance to cool down before she brought it up with him.
"Danny!" Brandan appeared in the waiting room. "And Maddie, hi! Good to see both of you."
"Always good to see you, too," said Maddie, her tone bright and just a little flirty. "Danny, I'll be waiting here when you're done."
Danny nodded and followed Brandan down the hall to his office. Once inside, he took his normal seat on the couch. Brandan shut the door, grabbed a notepad from his desk, and sat in his chair.
"So how are you doing today, Danny?" asked Brandan, clasping his hands and placing his elbows on the chair armrests. His notepad rested in his lap.
"Uh. Good." Danny shrugged. "Fine. You?"
Brandan smiled, almost looking like he was laughing. "I'm also good. Thanks for asking."
Danny nodded and waited for Brandan to say more, but Brandan's smile only grew wider in the few silent seconds that followed.
"So that's the polite way to answer that question," said Brandan. "Most people don't actually want an honest answer when asking how someone is doing, after all. But here, I very much do want an honest answer. So…" Brandan leaned toward Danny. "Are you really doing good today, Danny?"
Danny contemplated the question more seriously, looking out the window at the traffic in the street below.
"Yeah, actually," he said slowly. "I mean, I wasn't doing so great earlier today—this whole week was kind of rough—but right now, I feel…okay."
"Hmm." Brandan steepled his fingers. "Care to tell me about your week, why it was rough?"
Danny fidgeted with his hands in his lap, not sure if he was ready to tell Brandan about Dash's incessant taunting all week.
"Did you take your driver's test again?" asked Brandan.
Danny looked up. "No. Not yet. My mom said I can wait until school's over to try again."
"Okay. Hmm." Brandan tapped his index fingers against his chin. "Did Mr. Lancer give you detention for anything this week?"
"Uh—" Danny's eyelids fluttered as he recalled how Lancer strangely did not give him detention for his outburst in class. "Actually, he's been a lot nicer to me lately."
"All right." Brandan pursed his mouth. "Did your mom catch you sneaking out of the house again?"
"I—no," said Danny, not a lie because although he snuck out several times that week to go on patrol, his mom never did catch him.
Brandan pressed his lips as he tapped his fingers again. "Did you try asking Paulina or Valerie or some other girl out on a date and they said no?"
Danny's face started burning. "What? Why would you even ask that?"
"Well, are you going to make me keep guessing, or are you going to tell me why your week was rough?" asked Brandan, laughing.
Danny sighed and looked down at his lap, debating what to say. But at this point, he had already opened up so much to Brandan, what would it hurt to just tell the truth now?
And besides, he only had to see this guy one more time after this. Then never again.
"Dash found out I'm seeing a therapist," said Danny quietly.
Brandan nodded, staying quiet for a few moments before speaking. "Dash, yes. We haven't talked about him much, but your mother has mentioned him to me."
Danny held his elbows and tensed up.
"You've had quite a history with him, haven't you?" said Brandan.
"You could say that."
"Can you tell me about it?"
Danny creased his brow. "Tell you what? My history with him?"
Brandan nodded.
Danny sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him, propping his heels up on the carpet. "I don't even really know how it started anymore."
"But you must know when it started, right?" said Brandan. "When you first met him."
"Well, yeah," said Danny. "It was the start of freshman year. And we had a couple classes together."
Brandan hummed and leaned back, clasping his hands across his middle.
"And, uh… Well, I remember when he first spoke to me," Danny continued. "Our teacher was having us play some kind of icebreaker game, and when it was my turn, I introduced myself as Danny Fenton. Nothing else, just that. But everyone recognized my last name immediately."
"Right, yes, your family is very well known in Amity Park."
"We are now, I guess, now that my parents have been more involved in the anti-ghost initiatives. Plus they're like best friends with the mayor."
"Really? Mayor Masters? I did not know that."
"My dad will tell you all about it, but it's not something I'm proud of," said Danny, rolling his eyes.
"And why's that?"
Danny shook his head. "Anyway, everyone knew my name because our house has this huge neon 'Fenton Works' sign that you can see from like a mile away. So embarrassing, but I have not been able to convince my parents to take it down or at least not light it up at night."
"Ah, yes," said Brandan. "That sign is quite famous here. Everyone knows it."
"Yeah. Imagine everyone knowing exactly where you live. Like I try to give someone directions to my house and they're like 'you live under the Fenton Works sign, you don't need to say more than that.'"
Brandan laughed. "I can see why you wouldn't like that."
"And that's why everyone recognized my name. Including Dash. And the very first thing he said to me was…"
Danny conjured the moment in his mind, the way Dash leaned over his desk with both arms propped on top of it and smirked at him. He was the biggest student in the classroom, the tallest and most muscular. Danny discovered later that he had started school a year late, but even being only a year older, he seemed as big as the upperclassmen.
"Uh, he said…" Danny swallowed. "'Fenton, I know that name. My dad says you're a bunch of freaks that actually believe in ghosts.'"
Brandan's expression softened. "How did hearing that make you feel?"
"Um…" Danny shrugged. "Back then, no one really believed in ghosts. They weren't yet appearing in our town on a daily basis like they do now. So kids used to actually tease me all the time because they thought my parents were just…crazy ghost hunters. And I didn't know what to believe myself. My parents had never even seen a ghost, and I definitely hadn't ever seen one. So when kids would make fun of me or my parents, I didn't know what to say back."
"So it wasn't just Dash who teased you for your parents' interest in ghosts?"
"No. But he was the worst for sure. And while most kids eventually got bored with teasing me, he never left me alone."
Danny tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, crossing his arms over his middle and tapping his fingertips against his elbows.
"It started out small," said Danny. "Just in class. He'd call me stupid nicknames, just dumb changes to my last name like Fenturd or Fentoenail."
"Does he make plays on other students' names?" asked Brandan. "Or just yours?"
"Just mine as far as I'm aware." Danny smiled ruefully. "I have this joke that I'm his favorite."
Brandan hummed and gestured for Danny to continue.
"Anyway, as I said, at first he only bothered me in class, but then he started coming for me outside of class," said Danny. "During passing period or at lunch. Before school or after school by my locker. And in the beginning, he would just make fun of me for something, but then he started taking it out on me whenever something made him angry, like getting a bad grade on a test or losing a football game or a girl rejecting him for a date."
"Did he ever get physical?"
Danny rubbed the side of his neck. "Um. Yeah, he did."
Silence followed. Danny waited for Brandan to ask another question, but Brandan seemed to be thinking as his eyelids lowered.
"It wasn't anything that bad," said Danny. "He stuffed me in a locker a couple times, but I was able to get out really easily—" Danny's heart raced with fleeting panic at his casual reference to his ability to turn intangible. "—uh, because my friends would get me out right away. And he tried to make me eat his underwear once. And mud, although Sam insisted it was actually food."
"Has he ever hurt you?" asked Brandan.
Danny hesitated. "He's punched me a few times. Not that hard, though. I mean, not usually enough to leave bruises."
"Not usually? So he has left bruises?"
"Um…" Danny swayed his head side to side. "Like once or twice, maybe."
Brandan's lips thinned, his brows drawing low over his eyes.
"One time that I bruised… It was in class. Around the time of that meteor shower we had." Danny reflexively rubbed his upper arm, not even realizing he was doing it. "He punched me in the arm during class. Lancer was right there and…he—Lancer, I mean—he didn't even care." Danny exhaled, a little shaky. "I mean, okay, a ghost crashed through the ceiling right after Dash punched me, but even later, Lancer never said anything about it. Dash never got in trouble for it."
Danny breathed again, still shaky. He rubbed both his arms now.
"No one cared what Dash was doing to me," he said quietly. "My mom didn't even know until this past year, my sophomore year. But all throughout my freshman year, everyone just ignored it and let Dash get away with it. And Dash knew that. He seemed to make it into a game, trying to find the worst thing he could get away with."
The words were coming on their own, spilling over without his conscious effort. So much he had been holding back, frustration and anguish he had never even shared with Sam and Tucker.
"You know, Sam complains about how her parents are always on her case, trying to control everything she does," continued Danny. "But at least they pay attention to her, you know? They care about what's going on in her life even if they hate her lifestyle choices. But my parents don't care. My teachers don't care."
Not just Dash. Ghost fighting, too. Limping through the halls between classes but no one stopping to ask him if he was okay. Unable to do a single push-up due to a badly sprained wrist and his gym teacher clicking her tongue in disapproval but never asking him why he couldn't do it. Sam and Tucker carrying him into the house so obviously unconscious but his parents never asking what happened, oh God, was he all right, should they take him to the hospital?
Even just a few weeks ago, Danny had come home in the middle of the night with a big cut on his face, and his mother cared far more about grounding him for breaking curfew. She didn't even press him for the truth about what happened, she just accepted his bullshit story about a tree cutting his face. Or, perhaps worse, if she didn't believe him, she didn't care.
His eyes stung and he closed them, willing the tears to stay inside even if his words kept coming out.
"No one cares," he whispered.
"You feel neglected and ignored very often," said Brandan gently, "don't you, Danny?"
Danny opened his eyes but did not look at Brandan, staring at the floor instead.
"Did you ever report Dash's behavior to anyone?" asked Brandan. "Did you ever tell your parents? Your mom?"
Danny released a slow exhale. "No," he said. "I never told anyone. Jazz saw Dash shoving me around a couple months ago and told my mom about it. That's when she called the principal."
Brandan nodded. "I see."
"I know I should've told someone sooner," said Danny, almost apologetically, "but I was—I don't know, I guess…embarrassed? Too embarrassed to tell anyone. I didn't want anyone to know."
Brandan nodded again.
"He…made me feel weak," said Danny. "I hated that. I didn't want anyone to see me that way. Weak. A victim." He shuddered. "I don't want to be a victim. I don't like feeling helpless. I can't be helpless. I have to be—"
He stopped himself before he could say more, because he couldn't explain something like this to Brandan, his obligation to be the hero this town needed, how Danny Phantom had to be strong, always, never weak.
"I'm just not sure what I did to make him hate me so much," said Danny. "To make him target me every chance he got. I never did or said anything to him. I just don't get it."
"Bullies often target those who are different or small or—and please forgive me for using this word, I know you don't like it—appear weak," said Brandan. "Victims don't necessarily do anything initially to anger a bully. Bullies just enjoy the thrill of exerting power and dominance, and they usually choose victims who are easy to hurt."
Danny remembered how Dash quite literally loomed over him in freshman year, how small he felt every time Dash stood next to him. Danny was currently in the middle of his growth spurt and had grown several inches in the past year alone, standing now just a couple inches under six feet.
But he still remembered how Dash's entire shadow could cover him from head to toe. And each time Dash looked down at him with that predatory sneer, Danny hoped and hoped and hoped that he had his father's genes buried somewhere inside him and one day he would be taller than Dash. Maybe. God, he hoped.
"He does think I'm easy to hurt," said Danny softly. "He thinks he can push me around and do whatever he wants with me. To me."
"That doesn't make you weak, Danny," said Brandan. "It just makes him a bully. It says nothing about you."
"But maybe I was weak," said Danny. "Because why didn't I try to stop him? I should've tried. I should've done something about him sooner." He spoke rapidly. "I should've stood up to him instead of just letting him do whatever he wanted to me. Because I did let him, I let him."
Danny pressed his heels into the floor, rubbing his knuckles against his knees.
"And I shouldn't have. When I saw no one else would help me, I should've tried to help myself. I shouldn't have waited for my mom to finally do something." Danny's fingers curled under, balling into fists over his thighs. "But maybe I was just too weak, too afraid to do anything. A coward."
Brandan shook his head. "Danny, that's not—"
"But I guess… I mean, everyone else was letting Dash get away with it, so I thought maybe…that's just what I had to do, too. That must've been the right thing to do because all the adults were doing it," murmured Danny. He looked at Brandan. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"
"No, Danny," said Brandan, looking very serious. "It doesn't."
Danny popped one of his knuckles, then a second, slowly.
"It's not stupid to look to adults for the right thing to do," said Brandan. "You've been told your whole life to respect adults, and when they fail to help you, to protect you, that doesn't mean you did anything wrong or that you don't deserve their help. Adults make mistakes and bad judgment calls, too. Sometimes on accident, sometimes willfully." Brandan paused. "I hope you can see that I am here to help. I won't ignore you if you need my help, Danny."
Danny rubbed one elbow. Brandan sounded sincere but he still wasn't entirely sure he trusted Brandan. If he even could trust Brandan. He had been tricked so many times now, by both humans and ghosts, adults and kids his age.
He knew Brandan had done nothing to hurt him. Yet. He also knew how quickly that could change.
He remembered how he actually liked Vlad the first time he met him. It seemed so impossible now.
"I just need to know for sure," said Brandan gently. "Is Dash still hurting you? Can you tell me the truth about that?"
Danny stared at Brandan, studying him, wishing he could know what was going on in that feathery blond head of his.
"No," said Danny. "He hasn't physically hurt me since my mom called the school."
"Not physically, but is he still hurting you in other ways?"
"Well. When he found out last week I was going to therapy, he made sure everyone knew all about it and that it was all because of his personal handiwork."
"Bullies often feel pride when they see their victims break down or fall."
"But it has nothing to do with him," said Danny firmly. "Why I'm here in therapy, I mean. He tried to take credit, but I told him it had nothing to do with him."
Brandan smiled. "I'm sure that bruised his ego a little."
Danny did not smile back.
"Did you tell him the real reason you're in therapy?" asked Brandan.
Danny tensed. "No."
"Do you trust me enough to tell me the real reason?" asked Brandan. "Why you've been feeling the way you feel? What you've really been struggling with?"
Danny's tensed muscles froze up completely. The thought of confiding in Brandan ran through his mind, the ache for relief to just tell him already, all about Phantom and his real problems, problems that completely eclipsed school bullies and rejections from girls and disappointing his parents and teachers.
The thought was fleeting. Thankfully. He shook his head, coming back to his senses because revealing his ghostly secret to anyone was crazy, just insane.
"Um. Anyway." Danny cleared his throat. "Dash tried to mess with me today and I told him off. In class, in front of everyone. And I think he's going to leave me alone for real this time."
"You told him off?" said Brandan, eyes widening. "Really?"
"Yeah." Danny chuckled. "And Lancer actually gave him detention instead of me."
"You say that almost with disbelief," said Brandan. "You really didn't expect Mr. Lancer to have your back like that, did you?"
Danny blinked, thinking for a moment. "No," he said, somewhat bewildered. "I didn't. It's not a conclusion I ever would've jumped to."
"Which is why it's better not to jump to any conclusions at all about people."
Brandan smiled at him pleasantly. Danny could feel his own mouth tugging to mirror Brandan's.
But he wasn't ready to admit that maybe Brandan was actually right this time.
"So yeah, Lancer had my back for once," said Danny, "and I think when Dash saw that he couldn't get away with messing with me anymore, he decided to finally back off for good. Like I think he's doing it for himself, not for me—he really doesn't want to get kicked off the football team—but you know, I'll take it. Still a win to me." He paused, furrowing his brow. "Is that still jumping to conclusions? Saying that he did it more for himself than for me?"
"It's all right to speculate and make guesses," said Brandan. "We would never get anywhere if we could never speculate. The idea is that you do not want to act or treat someone a certain way according to only speculation."
Danny brushed a couple knuckles against his chin.
"But I'm glad to hear that you feel things will be better between you and Dash from now on," said Brandan.
Danny sighed. "I just wish I stood up to him sooner. I should've."
"You really think that?" asked Brandan.
Danny nodded. Brandan wheeled his chair over to his desk, grabbed Danny's thinking error tally sheet that was lying on top of a stack of papers, and then wheeled back to the middle of the room in front of the couch.
"Well." Brandan read over the tally sheet, pinning it on top of his notepad with one thumb. "I could not ask for a more perfect way to transition into a discussion of your next most common thinking error."
"Is it should statements?" asked Danny, his tone flat.
"Why, yes," said Brandan, smiling. "How did you know?"
Danny rolled his eyes, but he also smiled. "Let's do it, then."
"Would you like to explain this cognitive distortion for us?"
"Seems pretty self-explanatory, doesn't it?"
"It does indeed," said Brandan with a chuckle. "Should statements are any statements you make about yourself or others that include the word 'should.' People often use them to berate themselves for their flaws or when they believe they are capable of doing more or better."
"Right," said Danny. "Like when I flunk a test and my parents tell me I should try harder."
"Do you ever say that to yourself, Danny? That you should try harder?"
Danny looked down.
"You can't change what your parents or teachers say about you," said Brandan. "You can only change what you say and how you feel about yourself."
"But I could change what they say, couldn't I?" asked Danny. "If I do what they think I should be doing."
"But that's only a Band-Aid," said Brandan. "It only covers up what's on the surface. Doing what they think you should do won't make you feel better in the long run until you address how you feel about yourself."
Danny blew out a breath. "Then I guess maybe I don't get the problem with should statements. I mean, isn't it a bad thing if I flunk a test? Shouldn't I try or study harder so I don't flunk again? It's not wrong to say I should study harder, is it?"
"Well, it's not that—"
"Isn't that just life? Making the best choices based on what we should or shouldn't do?" Danny held out his hands, palms up. "'I should help that person,' 'I shouldn't steal,' 'I should tell the truth,' 'I shouldn't kill people.' I mean, aren't all of those things just true? Aren't there things good people just should do for the betterment of society or whatever?"
"I'm not saying that there aren't things people should or shouldn't do," said Brandan. "Of course there are. But should statements become a thinking error when you make a bad choice and then beat yourself up over it. And when you do this frequently for the same should statement over and over—such as 'I should study harder so I don't keep failing my tests'—it creates this constant feeling of guilt and shame every time you think about studying or taking a test, and it can really wear you down and make you even less motivated to actually do anything differently."
Danny thought this over, because yes, he never actually felt inclined to study even when he knew he should, even when he told himself he should. The fear of failing and the guilt of sitting around doing nothing, dreading that inevitable red F marked on his paper. He could never focus, couldn't concentrate, couldn't get his mind to actually do the work and just actually study for once.
I should I should I should and yet he spent more energy on telling himself what he should do instead of actually doing it.
"So what do I do about it?" asked Danny. "I mean, how can I stop obsessing over what I should or shouldn't do and just…be okay with what I can do?"
Brandan grinned, almost cheekily. "Same thing you do for all the other thinking errors, Danny."
Danny groaned and fell back on the couch. "I should've expected that."
"Another great should statement right there!"
"Fine, whatever. Let's just get on with it."
"Is it all right if we use your personal example?" asked Brandan. "The one about how you feel you should've done something about Dash much sooner."
"Um." Danny chewed the inside of his lower lip. "I mean, if you think it's a good one."
"Of course it's a good one," said Brandan. "It's authentic. And it's yours."
"Then…" Danny shrugged. "I guess it's okay."
"Really?" Brandan smiled. "No resistance this time? Are you starting to feel more comfortable with me, Danny?"
Danny narrowed his eyes. "I can still change my mind, you know."
"I certainly don't want that," said Brandan with a small chuckle. "So the first step is to identify the thinking error. You understand how feeling like you should've stood up to Dash earlier is a should statement, right?"
"It's literally a statement that has the word 'should' in it," said Danny dryly.
"Yes, good observation," said Brandan. "But more than that, it's a statement including the word 'should' that passes judgment on your actions. You see that too, I hope?"
"Yeah, I see it," said Danny. "Because I feel bad that I didn't stand up to Dash sooner. I feel like I made my life unnecessarily harder for myself."
"Excellent analysis," said Brandan. "Pretty soon, you're not going to need me at all anymore."
"Not soon enough," grumbled Danny.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," said Brandan. "Were you by chance reminding us what the next step is after identifying the thinking error?"
"Examine the evidence," said Danny more loudly.
"Right. So what is your evidence for this belief that you should've stood up to Dash sooner?"
"Well. Pretty sure he would've stopped messing with me a lot sooner."
"Pretty sure, but you can't be positive, can you?"
"Well, obviously I can't be positive. Not unless I went back in time to test it." Danny imagined flying to Clockwork's lair and asking for another time-traveling favor. "Which I guess I could."
"You could?" Brandan gave him a funny look.
Danny blushed and shook his head. "Ah, no, I was joking." He cleared his throat. "Bottom line, no, I can't be positive that Dash would've stopped messing with me sooner if I had stood up to him sooner. But it's a possibility, right? I mean, that's what happened today."
"Of course," said Brandan. "But it's not the only one. Just because that was the outcome that happened today doesn't mean it would've been the same outcome in the past. There are other possibilities."
"Like what?"
"Well, you tell me. I want you to do most of the work here, you know." Brandan shifted the position of his legs. "Think. What else might Dash have done in response to you standing up to him?"
Danny thought some more, sighing in defeat. "He might've laughed at me," he muttered. "He might've started doing…worse things to me."
"Bullies often enjoy when their victims try to stand against them," said Brandan with a small nod. "Sometimes it's even what they're hoping for, what they're waiting for. As long as they continue to feel more powerful, they enjoy getting the opportunity to make their victims feel even more inferior, crushing them when they try to show strength." Brandan paused. "Especially when they try to show strength."
"Are you saying the only sure way to stop a bully is to show them you're the stronger one?" asked Danny. "Make them afraid to mess with you ever again?"
Danny thought back on all the times Dash shoved him against the lockers, the times Dash actually stuffed him inside one back when he was smaller.
And each time, Danny imagined blasting him away with ecto-energy, landing a well-formed punch just to see that look of shock and maybe even fear on Dash's face.
"Because I'm stronger than I look," said Danny. "I could've hurt him. I could've made him stop."
Brandan did not say anything until Danny locked eyes with him.
"If someone is genuinely threatening your safety or life, of course it's all right to defend yourself," said Brandan quietly. "But trying to beat back your bully with excessive force can turn you into something you don't want to be."
A memory of fighting his future dark self made Danny shiver.
"Did Dash ever threaten you that severely?" asked Brandan. "Did he ever make you feel unsafe? Like your life was in danger? Or at least your physical health?"
Danny stared at the floor and slowly shook his head. "Just some bruises," he whispered.
"Nothing that caused bleeding?"
Danny shook his head again.
"I'm here to listen if you want to tell me more about what he's done to you," said Brandan gently.
"Yeah. I know."
Neither said anything for several long moments. Danny kept his gaze to the floor.
"Is there any other evidence for this thinking error?" asked Brandan at last, his tone shifting.
"Well." Danny raised his eyes. "My mom ended up calling the school about Dash anyway. So I might as well have just done it myself earlier, right? Why did I have to wait for her to do something?"
"Do you think it's a bad thing that your mother had to do something about Dash for you?" asked Brandan.
"Well, it was kind of embarrassing."
"Kind of?"
"No, actually, it was a lot embarrassing." Danny grimaced. "It made me feel weak. It made me look weak."
"How so?" Brandan's eyes widened slightly, his brows pinching.
Danny held out his hand in a gesture toward Brandan. "Everyone was giving me that exact same look you are now. Teachers, classmates—just everyone. Like they pitied me. Or some of them even laughed at me."
"Who laughed at you?"
"Other jocks. Dash's friends. Dash himself."
"So other bullies who think like Dash."
"I guess so. Maybe. But if I had done something sooner, they wouldn't have laughed or pitied me."
"You know you can't know that for sure, Danny."
"Yeah, all right, jumping to conclusions, but they definitely all think I need my mom to take care of me now."
"You can't know that either."
"But isn't it true?" spat Danny, whipping his hand out in the direction of the lobby where Maddie was waiting for him. "My mom did have to take care of me."
"You're still a kid, Danny," said Brandan. "It's okay to let your parents help you. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"Yeah, okay, I'm a kid, but I'm not a little kid," said Danny irritably. "It just made me feel like a little kid when my mom called up the principal and Dash's parents. And Dash already called me puny all the time, so it just made him see me as even smaller and weaker. And yes, he did say that." Danny saw Brandan's mouth open and pointed a finger to stop him from asking the question Danny knew was right on his tongue. "I'm not jumping to conclusions on that. Dash made it very clear to me that he thinks I'm a baby for having to get my mom to protect me."
"I see," said Brandan. "So do you feel that by having your mother handle the situation for you, you missed your opportunity to prove to Dash that you're not just a weak, helpless victim?"
"Yes," said Danny quickly before he could think. "I mean, maybe? I don't know." He sighed. "I just wish it didn't happen the way it did."
"But didn't you get your chance to prove your strength today?" asked Brandan. "Didn't you stand up to him today and show him you're not weak?"
"I—yeah. I guess."
"And you said that although Dash stopped hurting you physically after your mother reported him, his verbal taunts continued. But you feel that you were able to convince him to stop all his harassment completely today, correct?" Brandan leaned forward. "So doesn't that mean your actions had more impact than your mother's? Don't you think that proved to Dash that you are strong and not helpless? That you can in fact stand up for yourself and you don't need your mother to do it for you?"
Danny considered this. Because it was true that Dash only stopped the physical assaults so he wouldn't risk being seen by other students or leaving any noticeable bruises or marks on Danny's skin. But Dash never let up on the teasing and the insults and the jeers that still etched Danny's self-esteem and made him feel like he couldn't possibly be a hero for anyone. Because those left scars no one else could see, and Dash could continue to get away with them as long as Danny continued to just take the abuse and not defend himself.
But Danny had defended himself now. Something no one else could have possibly done for him, not his mom or his friends or his teachers. He alone had fully stopped the abuse, and he would not allow Dash to ever hurt him in any way again.
"Yeah, maybe," muttered Danny. "But I just think I should've done it sooner."
Brandan smiled. "Getting a little circular here."
"Well, do you disagree? I'm asking honestly," said Danny. "If you don't agree that I should've done something sooner, then do you think I actually did the right thing when I didn't stand up to Dash and just waited for my mom to do it first?"
"I'm not saying what you did was right or wrong," said Brandan. "I'm saying that what you did was what you did, and you don't need to beat yourself up over it and fantasize how things might've been better if you had done it sooner."
Danny frowned and tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, leaning back into the couch. "I guess it can't be changed now," he murmured.
"Right," said Brandan. "It doesn't matter what you should've done in the past because this is where you are right now. It doesn't help you even a little bit to stress over whether you made the right choice or not."
Danny nodded, saying nothing as he continued to stare at the ceiling.
"So that was a great example of a should statement about the past that was keeping you stuck on a past version of yourself, filling you with shame and frustration," said Brandan. "But many should statements happen every day in the present moment. 'I should clean my room.' 'I should study harder.' 'I should get better grades.' 'I should do more volunteer work.' 'I should stop being so lazy.'"
"Those statements seem true enough to me," said Danny.
"Maybe," said Brandan. "As you were saying earlier, there are some things we expect people to do, rules we expect people to follow for a functioning society. But the thinking error is not about the truth of the statement. It's about how it's affecting you when you say it. If a should statement fills you with guilt and shame when you fail to actually do it, then it's important to reevaluate how you talk to yourself."
"But why is it a bad thing to feel guilt or shame about not doing something you should do?" asked Danny. "I mean, why shouldn't you feel bad about being lazy or getting bad grades or not helping someone who needs you?"
"The problem is that should statements tend to be discouraging far more often than they are encouraging," said Brandan. "Tell me, how often have you actually been able to improve your grades just by saying you should get better grades and berating yourself when you get a D or F? Or when your parents have told you that you should do better?"
"Not often," Danny admitted.
"There are far more constructive ways to actually improve yourself, to accomplish the goals that are important to you," said Brandan, his tone softening. "Beating yourself up for not doing what you think you should be doing is only ever destructive."
Danny released a long sigh. He knew Brandan was right. Deep down, he knew it. But he also knew this was going to be a difficult thinking error to overcome. He had been beating himself up for not meeting certain expectations for so long now.
"Do you have any other examples of should statements?" asked Brandan.
Danny blinked, almost startled by this sudden question. "Uh… I don't think so. I mean, nothing as interesting as the Dash one."
"Really?" Brandan's eyes widened just slightly. "I would think someone like you would have many other very interesting examples."
Danny's facial muscles twitched. "Someone like me? What does that mean?"
"Well, you certainly don't have a typical teenage life," said Brandan, "what with your parents being active ghost hunters and all." He paused. "You know, I've been wondering if you've ever fought or hunted ghosts yourself. Have you? Because that would be very exciting, I would think."
Danny stared at Brandan, his heart pounding, his head screaming.
Does he know? Does he know? If he doesn't know, then what does he know?
"Sure you can't think of any other good should statements there?" asked Brandan.
Danny's mind zipped over his own ghost fighting, his mistakes and failures that shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't keep happening but they did, over and over and over.
I'm so tired but I should go out on patrol anyway.
I'm still sore from yesterday's fight but I should go out again to find and capture any rogue ghosts.
It's my fault these ghosts are infesting this town so I should be the one to capture and return them all to the Ghost Zone.
I shouldn't keep letting Sam and Tucker risk their lives when they have no ghost powers to protect themselves. I should be able to fight these ghosts on my own. I should be strong enough for them, for everyone.
"I don't want to talk about ghosts," murmured Danny, his eyes still glassy with the memories, Brandan just a blur in the background.
"I know you don't, Danny," said Brandan just above a whisper. "And I won't make you. But I am here to listen when you are ready to talk about ghosts. I hope I can earn your trust on that."
Danny's focus converged as Brandan's image sharpened in front of him. "My trust on what?"
Brandan shrugged and stood, setting his notepad on his desk chair and ambling over to the window. He folded his arms as he looked outside at the bustling traffic.
"I wonder if Danny Phantom ever experiences this same thinking error," said Brandan calmly, thoughtfully. "If he feels he should protect the town, if that's why he does it. Because he feels like he should be a superhero." He paused, not moving at all, still looking out the window. "I wonder if he ever takes a break to just be himself. Not a hero, just…Danny."
Danny's mouth fell open, unable to get any words out. He stared at Brandan, who continued to stay turned away from him, seemingly fixated by whatever was outside.
"What?" he finally managed to squeak out.
Brandan unfolded his arms and glanced at the clock. "Oh, we're a minute over, sorry about that. I know how much you like to end right on time."
He picked up the notepad lying on the seat of his chair and placed it on his desk. Danny watched him, glued to the couch. When Brandan opened the door for him, he did not get up.
"Is there something you still want to talk about?" asked Brandan. "I have another client coming in a few minutes, but I'd be happy to talk with your mom about setting up another appointment this week. Or I can give you my email address if you'd like."
"No, I definitely don't want to talk anymore," said Danny with a shake of his head. "I just—I mean, is there something you want to talk about?"
Brandan cocked his head. "Me?"
"Yeah." Danny wrung his hands. "Something you want to tell me?"
Brandan chewed the inside of his cheek. "Hmm. Maybe next week. When we have more time."
"But there is something?" asked Danny anxiously.
"There might be," said Brandan with such infuriating nonchalance. He used an open palm to gesture out the door. "Shall we?"
Danny pouted and narrowed his eyes. This guy…
But he got up from the couch and marched past Brandan out into the hall and toward the lobby where Maddie was waiting.
"How did it go?" asked Maddie, standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder as she looked only at Brandan.
"Danny can tell you," said Brandan.
Maddie turned her attention to Danny, who felt his ears and face redden.
"Uh—fine," stammered Danny. "Just, uh… Yeah, it was fine."
"Fine," echoed Brandan, smiling. He waved goodbye and disappeared down the hall leading to his office.
Danny followed Maddie out of the lobby and down the stairs to her parked car. His heart thudded twice per step, wondering if Brandan knew his secret and if he was planning on telling his mother. Or had he perhaps already told her?
Danny climbed into the passenger seat while Maddie sat in the driver's seat and set her purse in the compartment between the two seats. But instead of starting the car, she turned to Danny. Danny froze, his heart quickening even more.
Oh, God, Brandan did tell her, oh God, this was it, oh God oh God oh God he wasn't ready oh God—
"I got an email from Mr. Lancer while you were talking to Brandan," she said.
Danny's heart stopped. He had already forgotten all about his outburst in English class just a couple hours earlier.
He braced himself for a lecture. But Maddie smiled.
"I'm so proud of you for standing up to Dash," she said, her tone warm and soft.
She leaned toward him and kissed his forehead, her lips lingering on his skin a little longer than usual. She then pulled back, handed him his phone, smoothed a lock of his hair behind his ear, and started the car.
Danny's fingers closed around his phone but he didn't even look at it, still frozen with his eyes on his mother, the memory of her loving kiss still on his forehead.
Today was just full of surprises.