Danny Phantom Fan Fiction ❯ Stupid ❯ The Mistake ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

“Im afraid your son will never be able to attend public school”

Those words stung. Burnt, even years after they were said.

They didn't burn, they seared and agonized him. He fought, and he clawed and he studied for hours every night, forcing himself, raging at himself for not being as smart as everyone else.

He tried so hard. So fucking hard. He was just slower than the rest, his mother would always tell him. No stupider, just... slower. But he poured himself into making a pass on every test and it wasn't long before he knew those words were a lie. Of course he was stupid.

Fifty percent. Sixty-one percent. Not one person in the class got under seventy-five. It tore at him, he cried.

He was crying now.

The crumpled piece of paper in his hand showed a disfigured “D-” on it. He'd spent three hours buried in a book, straining his eyes on the internet in the middle of the night trying to pass this test. And for what, a D-? A fucking D MINUS!?

He leant against the wall and cried. God forbid someone find out he was crying, but it broke his heart. He couldn't go to retard school. It would ruin him. He'd never get a job, never be able to get a car or a wife. He would have to live with his mom the rest of his life.

He punched the wall in the back of the school. It hurt, only made more tears.

Dash wasn't stupid, he knew that much. He was smart. With people, with issues, with life, problems. Give him a problem and he would solve it. But he couldn't learn, he just saw the answer, never the process. His way of thinking didn't work with Math, with science. What good was grade nine French war history going to do him in life?

It was so stupid.

All those kids, sneering down at him, openly referring to him as “not the sharpest tool in the shed.” And especially Fenton. What an asshole. Him and his friends cruising through the curriculum while Dash was drowning.

Whenever he had something worth showing, Fenton and his friends would show him up. What a jerk.

Dash started to walk home, the tears had long since dried up. Now all there was was a gnawing pain in his gut. For what seemed like a millionth time this year, he fantasized about dropping out of school. It would make his life so much easier.

But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to. It made his stomach hurt thinking about three and a half more grades of school and collage to live through.

* * *

School was long today. Longer than usual, the minutes were passing maliciously slow. Annoying to the point of getting up out of his seat and storming out of the room in a fit of rage. Dash contemplated doing that. But then the bell rang. Dash walked out.

Capp next. Capp was fine, he liked it. It had to do with preparing yourself for the real world. He liked it because his teacher gave them all this retarded advice, and he scribbled down better advice before slipping it anonymously onto the teachers desk when he wasn't looking.

He saw Fenton walking towards him with a pile of heavy books. Not towards him, just in his direction. He made a point to bump the fucker hard with his shoulder, causing the pile of books to go flying across the room.

“Asshole.”, he heard the kid mutter.

Normally Dash would have just let it go. But this particular monday morning, he was feeling especially vindictive. He turned and bent down face to face with the boy on ground.

“What did you call me?”

Fenton looked away, trying to look as though he hadn't said anything. Oh no, you aren't getting off that easy, thought Dash.

Dash picked him up by the collar and raised him up against a wall and holding him out so that Fenton's arms could reach. “What did you call me, fart eater?”

“I called you an asshole, asshole.”

Dash felt like punching him. That would get him in trouble. He didn't need trouble, not with end of term exams coming up and his grades getting steadily worse, despite his ever growing attempts to keep them up.

“I could beat you to a pulp and be gone before anyone came to your rescue you know.”

Fenton looked away, refused to meet his eye. All his frustration venting out, Dash decided to humiliate the punk. “Apologize.”

Fenton was silent.

“I said apologize.”

Silence. And then, “Im sorry.”

It was quiet, but it was there. Humiliation complete. Or was it? An evil grin spread across Dashes face. “Louder.”

Fenton swallowed his pride. “Im sorry.”, he said again, so that everyone else could hear. Still, he refused to meet his eye.

Dash toyed with the idea of making him yell it. But this was good, for now. Just a warning, or more a threat.

“Good.”

Dash let his victim fall to the ground with a hard thud. He heard Fenton mutter something else under his breath. It made his blood boil, he knew that this time, someone would get hurt.

“Retard.”

He punched Fenton so hard that something cracked.

Fenton lay in a heap a few feet away. Dash picked up the sobbing teen by his hair until he was standing on his feet and let go. He wrapped his arms around Fenton, so close that he could feel his warmth and brought his mouth close to the other boy's ear. Intimately close.

He whispered so that only his breath had sound, “Don't you ever call me stupid.”

Then he pulled away, and with a huge grin Dash patted him on the shoulder, “Run along now, you'll be late for class.

Fenton walked down the hall with a petrified look on his face.

* * *

He was called into the principals office halfway through Capp. Mr. Lancer had a look on his face that was designed not to show any emotion. Which meant he was very, very, very angry.

“Mr.Baxter.”, said the Principal. She looked as though she was trying very hard to be calm, “You are in so much trouble.”

He knew that this could only mean one thing. Fenton, that little smartmouth, had blabbed. He was gonna get it.

“Do you know how hard you have to punch someone to break two ribs, Mr.Baxter?”

He looked down at his shoes. The anger bubbling in his chest. He wanted to scream out `He was begging for it!'

But he had to hold his tongue. “No ma'a-”

“Well I think you do.”, she cut him off with her teeth clenched. “What do you have to say for yourself? Hmm?! You are aware that you could have cause even worse damage. His stomach almost ruptured, you know. Its only by a case of bad aim that you cause any fatal damage you little moron!”

She calmed down after a stern look from Lancer.

Dash stayed silent in a bid to wait out the storm.

“What do you have to say for yourself.”

“He provoked me, ma'am.”

She nearly screamed at him, but mild interest kept her silent.

“He called me a retard.”, he said shamefully.

“And... you think that's an excuse for breaking two ribs...?”, she asked, a smile tugging at her cheeks.

“No ma'am.”

She stayed silent for a long time. Dash tried to think what might be going through her head. Normally he would be able to tell, he was an expert when it came to psychology. But right now his head was clutter with fear. Expelled. He was going to be expelled. He didn't want to be expelled.

Lancer coughed in the background. “Might I suggest, a nice, long suspension, ma'am?”

“Not enough.”, she muttered as she peered interestedly at her interlocked fingers.

“We cant expel the boy, he's our star quarterba-”, she cut him off.

“Lets throw the sports hierarchy to the wind here, Mr.Lancer, and focus on the fact that he could have killed a boy”.

Dash felt like a piece of sludge on the bottom of someone's shoe. Not even Fenton deserved to be killed.

“A month and a half suspension and-”, she stared daggers at Dash, who had allowed the joy of not being suspended show on his face, “-Aggression counseling until such a time that he is deemed cured. That seems a fair compromise, don't you think Mr.Lancer?”

Lancer nodded behind him.

“Now get out of my sight.”