#creamcloud0

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“What is up with that kid?” Wes whispered, loudly enough to be heard by the girl beside him but hopefully not by the kid in question. He hoped his nod in the appropriate direction was subtle enough, too.

The girl frowned and pointed at him with her nail file. “Why are you talking to me?” she asked.

Wes blinked.

The girl behind the first girl added, “Just avoid Fenton if you don’t want to be a loser like him.” The two of them laughed and walked off.

Fenton. That was Fenton, the kid with the crazy ghost hunting parents?

The kid in question glanced his way, and Wes looked away and tried to suppress a shudder. There was something about him, something…something…something wrong. Wes couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he was going to find out.

XXX

In less than a week, Wes realized two very important things about Danny Fenton. One: Star’s assertion that Fenton was a loser was reinforced daily by the school bully. (Wes himself had enough athletic ability to stay off of Dash’s radar.) Two: Dash’s star quarterback status wasn’t the only reason the teachers turned a blind eye to the treatment.

Wes had seen Fenton picked up by his shirt and shoved into his locker more often than Mickey was into his, but the math nerd showed the treatment of it. He had bruises. Scratches. He still smiled, still had a cheerfully subservient attitude in the hopes that it would prevent further treatment, but he’d walk with a limp or eat only soup for a few days or stumble into class just before the bell with red marks crisscrossing his skin.

Fenton did not.

He’d be punched. Tripped. Kicked. All manner of ‘accidentally knocked into’ and ‘accidentally knocked down’. And it never showed. It wasn’t just that he didn’t bruise easily—or at all, as far as Wes could tell. He wasn’t favouring any limbs. He didn’t complain—at least in Wes’s hearing—of being sore. He didn’t act as if he were hurt. Ever.

No one else ever commented on this, so Wes kept his mouth shut and his eyes open.

That was why, months later, Wes saw something he was pretty sure no one else did.

Fenton was banned from handling glassware in chemistry, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Manson move some drama props for a prank or a protest or whatever he was up to, and Wes was coming out of the washroom after basketball practice when he saw Fenton drop some glass orb.

It broke, and Fenton cut himself when trying to clean it up. Wes heard the quiet crud muttered even as he stepped back to hover in the alcove by the washroom, and he peeked out just enough to see Fenton press some tissue into his hand and then pick up the glass.

When Wes walked by later, all he saw was a forgotten glimmer of glass and a trio of red splotches staining the floor.

The next day, Wes made a point of looking for it, but Fenton didn’t have so much as a band-aid on, and there was no sign of a telltale scab.

XXX

By their senior year, Wes had it all figured out. He’d long ago pointed out the truth—that Fenton was Phantom—but no one believed him, despite all the evidence he trotted out again and again. Worse still, Fenton didn’t even try to hide it around him anymore.

Wes always saw a flash of fangs when Danny’s smirk inevitably grew into a grin when he noticed Wes watching him, even when other people were around.

Entirely too often, Fenton would just appear, and even though others wrote it off as ‘not noticing the loser’s approach’, Wes knew it was so much more than that. And, okay, fine, it wasn’t always literally appearing out of nowhere, but no one should be able to walk that quietly over fallen autumn leaves. It just wasn’t natural, which was his (entirely ignored) point.

One time in gym class, Wes was the only one close enough to Fenton to hear the sickening crack when he slipped and fell on his arm and it bent the wrong way. Fenton never said anything about it, but he did favour it. For the rest of the day. The next day, it was business as usual for him.

No one thought it weird that Fenton didn’t dress for the winter weather. If he bothered with a coat over his T-shirt, it was never done up anymore. But they also didn’t find it weird that it was always cool around him, even in the heat of summer. Assuming anyone else acknowledged it, they’d blame the air conditioning or a sudden gust of nonexistent wind, as if that made any sense at all.

That permanent cold spot might be why no one seemed to think it weird that Fenton wasn’t ever warm to the touch, either. Not that Wes could bring that up without a lot of teasing for all the wrong reasons, but every time Wes had brushed by him, Fenton had been cold. Not just cool, not just chilly, cold. Cold enough to give Wes goosebumps.

It didn’t help that Fenton’s only redeeming quality in the eyes of the popular kids was that he could hold his breath for a long time. It had been discovered during one of Dash’s more questionable bouts of bullying, but it had earned Fenton some grudging respect. He hammed it up instead of brushing it off, and no one questioned the fact that he could hold his breath for five minutes, despite how insane that was, especially for kids their age with zero training.

No one noticed the fact that Fenton never took a giant gulp of air before doing that, either.

No one realized that he simply didn’t need to breathe, at least not as often as a normal human if he did.

There was just…. It wasn’t normal. None of it was normal. It drove Wes nuts, and no one else seemed to see any of it.

XXX

On their last day of high school, Wes managed to get Danny alone.

Well.

Sam and Tucker were hovering in the background, snickering, but it was as alone as they were going to get.

“C’mon, you have to own up to this,” Wes said, trying not to make it sound like the plea it was. “You just…. You can’t pretend none of this…. You can’t let everyone keep thinking I’m Phantom when you’re, y’know.”

Danny smiled, his teeth just a touch too long and just this side of too sharp. “Whaddaya mean?”

Instinct was telling Wes to get out of there, but he held his ground.

“You’re Phantom,” he said. “I know you’re Phantom. I’ve seen you change.”

Danger, shouted his mind as it reminded him of all possible exits. Run, thundered his heart, beating faster with each passing second. Get away, screamed his muscles, tensed and ready to spring.

He was standing there waiting for an answer, gulping in lungfuls of air, before he realized the unnerving feeling had entirely disappeared.

Danny was frowning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His teeth looked normal. His face, his demeanour…. It all seemed perfectly normal.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Wes hissed. “The…the glowing eyes, the freaky stuff you do, everything!”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

“Stop doing that! You know what I mean!”

“Phantom’s dead, Wes,” Danny said. “He was long dead before you ever moved here. No one seriously thinks you’re him.”

“So you admit you’re dead, then? Because you’re Phantom?”

Danny snorted. “Phantom’s a ghost,” he said. “Ghosts are dead. I do not need to have grown up with the parents I did to know that. Do I look dead to you?”

He really didn’t, not at that precise moment, but Wes growled out an affirmative anyway.

Danny shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “I can’t make you not believe your own crazy conspiracy theory. Have a good rest of your life, Wes.”

He started to walk away, his soft footsteps on the linoleum sounding loud to Wes’s ears.

“Hey, wait, I’m not done!” Wes yelled. He sprinted after Danny, easily catching up to him, and reached to grab his arm.

Wes watched his fingers pass right through Danny’s arm and backpack as Danny reached Sam and Tucker. Wes stared at his hand for a split second and then looked up to confront them with this obvious bit of proof, but the hallway was empty.

He couldn’t hear any footsteps leading away, nor any muffled laughter at his expense.

Wes stood entirely by himself, left with exactly as much concrete proof of the truth as he’d ever had.

Nothing.

She narrowed her eyes a bit, confused. “And he just let you leave?” 

“One too many unhelpful comments, I guess.” He shrugged. “I have to make up the detention tomorrow. Where are you going?”

“Work, obviously. Walk with me?”

“Will I get some free fries at the other end?” 

Valerie sighed and started walking, Danny falling into step next to her. “Sometimes I think we’re only dating so you can get free fries.”

“It’s a perk, for sure.” 

Cool fingers brushed against hers and wove between her fingers. “Yeah?” Valerie asked, pulling him close so they bumped shoulders. “What other kinds of perks are there?”

“Warm fingers,” Danny said. “Pretty view. Nice company-” He cut off with a shiver.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Danny said, but his eyes were narrowed and his body was stiffer. “Um… why don’t you go ahead-

There was a flash and a bang. Valerie ducked, pulling Danny down with her. “What the-” she yelped, head whipping around. 

As the smoke cleared, a ghost was standing not ten feet from them, feet planted on the road. The ghost was decked in a flamboyant wizard robe, complete with a staff. “I am the office supply wizard!” the ghost shrieked. “Feel my wrath!”

“Office… supply… wizard?” Danny muttered. “That somehow explains something and nothing at all at the same time.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Valerie said, already locating the nearest alley and setting her feet on a scuttling course. “We can hide-”

Cold washed over them as the ghost picked up its staff and pointed it towards them. “Zoom-ba-la-glue!” it yelled.

“Watch out!” Valerie shouted, tightening her grip on Danny’s hand. Light slammed into them. Valerie slammed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to hit.

She felt Danny tugging at her hand, and she opened her eyes. The light was gone. Danny and her were still crouched on the road, unharmed. Danny was glaring at the wizard ghost with a strange, angry set to his face.

The ghost laughed and twirled in a circle. “That’ll keep you busy, I should think, while I plot my revenge!” Smoke swirled and flashed, and the ghost was gone.

“What did that mean?” Danny muttered, going back to tugging at her hand. “You can let go of me now.”

Valerie scowled at the vanished ghost. She’d be late for work now, needing to spend time tracking down that… thing. “I’m not holding on.” She pulled back, realizing Danny’s hand was following hers. “Danny…”

“Aw, shit,” Danny said, his shoulders dropped. “Seriously? Zoom-ba-la-glue?”

Valerie caught the last word and groaned. There’d be no tracking down the ghost with Danny literally glued to her. Pulling their stuck-together hands closer to her, she studied the connection. The little bits of glue she could see were glowing an inhuman green. “Do you want to come with me to work?”

“I’m sure my parents will have an anti-ghost-glue something-or-other,” Danny grumbled. “Let’s head there first. Maybe my sister can get you a ride so you’re not late.”