Danny

As I enter Ms. Yamaguchi's classroom, I notice that her desk is empty, and there's no music playing.  My brows press together a little.  Wonder where she is? I ask myself. 

Then I notice the projector screen is pulled down and showing a computer's desktop background- and there's a copy of The Nutcracker and the Four Realms sitting next to the mouse. 

I roll my eyes.  Baka.  So much for finishing the picture I've been working on all week.

I never thought I would say this, but dang, I am not excited about art class today.  Maybe it's because we won't really be working on any projects; it's the last day of school before Christmas break, so all we're doing really in what classes we have is sitting around and watching Disney movies.  It's always either Disney or superhero stuff (and sometimes both at the same time), I remember even from last year and the year before, that's all teachers want to show us kids on free days.  Then again, maybe that's partly because basically the only movies being made anymore are by Disney.

And oh, sure,  the teacher might say they will play a DVD if we bring one from home that's school appropriate ("What's a DVD?" I remember some kid asking once), but that's a total rip-off, too.  One time, I think in third grade, my social studies teacher made that same old offer, with the added condition that it involved some important, real-life historical happening- so I brought 1776, a musical from the seventies. 

And what happened?  My teacher looks at it, shakes her head, says it's "too old," and pops in Frozen.

When I told Mom, she just shook her head and sighed.  "It doesn't get more historical than a talking snowman.  No, sir."

Come on, guys!  If it's gotta be one or the other, let's see some earlier stuff for once! I huff to myself grouchily, plopping down in my usual seat.  Like the old Marvel movies- the first X-Men, or the first Spider-Man films!  Heck, even the first Superman is great!  But no.  Can't do that, those movies are too ooooooold....

Lauren waves to me when she bounds in, but all I do is kind of smile with closed lips for two seconds, then turn my head down again.

"By the way, I was gonna tell you: Dad believes me now," she croons happily, sitting down real close- closer than usual in fact.  "You know, the picture of John Deacon?"

"Uh-huh."  I don't care, Lauren.  Sorry.  I just don't.

"He even apologized to me for thinking I was just imagining stuff; he looked so freaked, it was so funny!"

"Yeah," I nod.  "Great."

Lauren frowns.  "You okay?"

I shrug. "Sure."

I'm not, of course, but I don't want to talk about it. Well, it's not that I don't want to tell her, it's that I can't. Lauren can't know why I'm sad, and neither can basically anyone else. I'm in enough trouble as is.  Actually, I've been pretty bummed since before breakfast this morning- and not only because Mom is probably going to kill me pretty soon. 

Mostly, it's because Freddie's going home.

I guess I ought to be glad for him, since he's finally going back to his house and the band and friends like that Mario dude on the cover of that book.  I should be very happy, because he will be happy.  But I'm not, no matter how hard I try to be.

I just can't stop thinking about the way Freddie and Mom were acting in the kitchen.  Just-friends don't hold each other around the waist, just-friends don't dance together or Eskimo-kiss for no reason.  There's something more going on between them, I'm just now starting to realize- something that usually would make me gag and act like that kid at the beginning of The Princess Bride.  But instead, there I was, and here I am, thinking how cool it would be if they kissed again like they did at that creepy party- only longer, and more gently.

At least, that's what I've begun to hope, anyway.  I'm really just looking for any excuse to believe Freddie might change his mind about leaving.  I know he probably won't.  I get that.  Mom's told me so many times that Freddie can't stay- and as sad as it makes me, I'm still more or less okay with it, I guess.  I just don't want him to leave tonight.  He's my friend- and it's way too soon.

Dang, though, what if he did stay with us?  I ask myself.  What if Mom fell in love with him and broke up with Dr. Preus, like she said she'd do for Dad?  What if she asked him to stay- and he said yes?  He wouldn't, I know, but- but what if he did?  Wouldn't that just be the greatest?

I sit up straighter, a hopeful smile crossing my face.  What if- what if Freddie stayed- and became my new dad?

And then, before I can answer my own crazy, desperate questions, my day goes from bad to worse.  In walks Ms. Rydinger.

I frown, confused, and look around wildly for my favorite teacher to come out from the back room or someplace, but she's still nowhere in sight.  My stomach turns as I fear the worst- and I'm not wrong. 

Two seconds later, my arch-enemy opens her big ugly mouth and explains, "Ms. Yamaguchi had a family emergency come up early this morning, so I'm subbing for her."

And even Lauren groans softly, "Oh, no."

Perfect.  I was going to ask Ms. Y to play that Teo Torriatte song for the whole class, but now I'm not even going to learn a new word in Japanese.  I really do hope her family's all right and everything, but geez.  This is such bad timing.

While she's setting up the movie, I remember something I drew a little while ago, something I'd been meaning to show Lauren but never got around to.  So I whip out my doodle collection and flip to a certain page, giggling evilly.

"What's so funny?" Lauren asks.

"Check it out," I whisper, pointing at a picture of that big slug guy in Star Wars, but with mascara and lipstick on.  I don't know what I was thinking, giving Jabba the Hut makeup, but it was really funny at the time.  Lauren must think so too, because she grins and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Suddenly inspired, I take my pencil in hand, draw an arrow pointing towards him, and right next to it I write, "MS. RYDINGER."

And she loses it.  Lauren just bursts out laughing, her face turning bright red while I sit there feeling very proud of myself.  I'm kind of relieved too, because sometimes I'll show her stuff like this, and she'll echo the things her other friends say, telling me I'm mean or rude or, Baylee's favorite, "annoying".  But not this time.

Apparently, though, we were having too much fun.  Because then Ms. Rydinger looks up at us, eyes narrowing.  "Lauren, Danny, I'd like you two to separate, please."

My jaw drops.  "What?  Why?"

"You're being disruptive."

"What are we disrupting?" I exclaim kind of loudly.  "All we're gonna do is watch a dumb movie!"

"Temper, Mr. Samuels," she warns me.  "I don't need you two talking over the film making it hard to hear for everyone else.  So please be quiet, or find new seats."

Lauren swallows, and shakes her head.  "I'm sorry, Ms. Rydinger, we'll shush."

"Look," Baylee smirks, turning to face us.  "It's a real-life Harry and Ginny."

While almost everyone else in the room giggles and goes "Ooo", I frown.  "Who?"

But Lauren goes completely pale.  "No, we're not!" 

Baylee just turns around, still snickering, while the girls surrounding her toss wicked little glances back our way and giggle between themselves.

"Who's Harry and Ginny?" I ask her, still not getting it.

Lauren doesn't answer.  With an apologetic look at me, she mumbles, "Sorry, Danny," then gets right up and goes to sit a little closer to the screen, leaving me alone.

I sigh heavily, spirits sinking even lower than before.  That's about right, I say to myself.  Baylee can say whatever she wants whenever she wants, and nothing happens- but I make Lauren laugh too hard, and suddenly I'm on my way toward a detention.

I bet Freddie wouldn't put up with that, I add suddenly.  I bet he'd get all up in Ms. Rydinger's business and tell her off, or something.

It sounds awfully tempting, I won't lie, but I'm not that brave, or angry, or willing to risk my reputation in the eyes of Santa. I'm more sad than anything else, and frustrated- but this whole thing is not helping.  And I've never really liked being alone.  I can do it, I don't freak out if I am because at this point I'm pretty darn used to it- but I still don't enjoy it. 

And seriously, who are Harry and Ginny?

Ms. Rydinger has Brent turn out the lights, the only light in the room being given off by the blue idle screen of the projector.  After a minute the movie loads up, and she presses "Play" once the root menu appears.

I, however, have absolutely, positively, no interest at all in watching some Nutcracker ballet movie thing that doesn't even feature a Nutcracker in the first place, so I decide I'll do something else- like finish up the "family crest" project we started on Wednesday.  Everyone else either finished theirs already or is waiting till after the break to finish it up, but I took a little longer to decide how I wanted mine to look, so I still have a few things to tweak before I'm happy enough with it to leave for later.

So while the title credits roll, I go to the back of the room and look for my paper, tossing a furtive glance toward Ms. Rydinger in case she decides me doing good old school work is ALSO disruptive.  Lauren looks back and watches me, but I pretend not to notice. I'm far from happy with her right now, for letting Baylee get under her skin like that. 

Lauren the Lemming, I scoff to myself. 

I find my piece, of course, and carry it back to my table.  Very quietly, I put my ear buds in, and start playing the old iPod, skipping to a song that might kick me out of my mood a little.  Luckily, the shuffle lands on "Papa Gene's Blues" by the Monkees- which always makes me smile.  Even now, I feel the corners of my mouth draw a little upward.  Good enough.

If you could see it, you might notice how similar my crest looks to another, more famous crest.  That's not an accident; I sort of based our crest on the one Freddie designed for Queen. It doesn't have much color to it yet, really all I've drawn is the outline. But I gotta say, so far, it looks really cool.

In the very middle, I have drawn an S for the first letter of my last name, obviously.  On top of the S I sketched what was supposed to be Farnsworth in place of the phoenix, although I've never been the best at drawing birds, so our conure ended up looking more like a toucan.  Peeping out from behind the letter I drew our dog's face; I know there's no dog in Freddie's crest, but I couldn't draw Farnsie without including Fry too.

Freddie picked the creatures on Queen's crest by referring to the zodiac, so I did the same, except mine ended up looking a little more awkward, since there's just Mom and me in my immediate family- she was born in early December, making her a Sagittarius, while I'm a Virgo, because my birthday is September 8th- and I don't know when my dad was born.  I could have included my grandparents, I guess- but I ran out of time on Wednesday to do that, and I don't want to add too much stuff to what I've already penciled in.  Besides, I've never tried to draw scorpions or goats in my life, and I'm not going to start today.  That's that.

Anyway, so really I've just got the lady standing on one side, depicting me (which again, is awkward, but hey), with a centaur on the other for Mom.  And it looks really weird, like it's out of balance.  It's not, as Freddie said, "symmetrical."

Then I get an idea.

I can fix that, I tell myself, and quick!

So I erase the bird-monster at the top, and replace it with a more roughly edged centaur with a bow and arrow pointing up at where the sky should be.  Where the centaur used to be, however, I sketch another woman and put her in similar clothing and a similar position as the lady across from her, kind of like she's looking in a mirror.  For good measure, I also erase Fry; somehow it doesn't fit the scene anymore.

I look over the new, improved crest, thinking hard on what else it might need.  Two almost identical Virgos (almost, because one turned out just a little smaller than the other) and a Sagittarius, standing around a big S.  Two of me, just like Freddie drew two of himself, two fairies for the Virgo sign-

Wait, wait, wait.  Hold on.  My eyes widen.

That's right, I gasp.  Freddie is a Virgo, too.

I look down at the crest and gasp again, realizing suddenly what I've done.  I wipe my glasses free of smudges then put them back on, but I'm still seeing it.  There is no question.  It's not two of me, plus Mom. Not at all. 

It's Mom, me, and Freddie. The three of us in a family crest- and what a pretty picture it makes.

I almost smile. 

But that's when I feel a hand come down on my shoulder.  Through my free ear, I hear Ms. Rydingr's voice whisper, "Danny, may I see you outside please?"

My skin prickles.  "Uh... why?"

"I want to ask you something."

Oh, no. 

My heart pounding, I feel my hand clench into a tight ball- but both my hands are relaxed by the time I follow Ms. Rydinger out to the hall, the movie still playing behind us as she nudges the door shut.  My stomach is doing gymnastics inside me.  I know I'm in trouble, I can already tell, people don't ask you to go out in the hall for a chat if it's over a good grade or good behavior.  That just doesn't happen.

"What did I do now?" I murmur softly, eyes on my shoes.

She comes right to the point.  "Danny, I sent several emails regarding your behavior in class to your mother, in order to set up a meeting with her.  Thus far, I haven't received any kind of response."

"Oh."  I gulp.  This is not good.

"Has she even read those emails, to your knowledge?"

I know full well that she hasn't; back when I deleted the first one, I set up her email account so that every email from Ms. Rydinger's address would head straight to the junk folder.  "No, ma'am," I mumble.

"Really."  Ms. Rydinger's lips press in a straight line.  "Seems rather neglectful of her, doesn't it?"

My head jerks up.  I know that tone.  "No!  No, it's not, she's just- really busy, and- yeah, it's not her fault, I swear.  Maybe y-you used the wrong address!  A typo or something!"

"It's the same one she gave at the start of your education here when you entered first grade- and there was no problem in communication up till now."

I fumble for an excuse- one that doesn't include me confessing to my crime.  "Ms. Rydinger, things have been really crazy this week, uh- there's a man who's staying with us and he's kind of turned everything upside down- I mean, he's really nice, but- but it's just nuts!  It's not Mom's fault!"

But she doesn't seem to hear me.  "And especially when I remember she's- what, a counselor or something, over at Princeton?  I thought they had higher standards, certainly concerning her own child."

A little flame ignites behind my eyes.  But I remember what Mom has said about talking back to her- so I bite my lip and try to keep myself under control.  "Wh- what's her being a counselor got to do with it?"

"Your mental health," she explains. "I would think it would be at the top of her priority list."

I lick my lips, feeling something new and scarily strong rising up inside me.  "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not necessarily-"

"Am I sick?"

"Danny, you are an unpredictable child- too much so at times, and so I simply want her to seek out, ahem- a second opinion.  A more- professional opinion."

I nod, gritting my teeth.  Funny, how she didn't say no.  "So a psychiatrist."

"Well- something like that.  Someone who is licensed to decide whether there are steps that can- or should- be taken to- correct some things."

My eyes narrow.  "Things about me?"

"Yes."

"So I need fixing?  Is that it?" My voice grows louder.

"No, I didn't say that-"

"Then why do you pick on me all the time, huh?"  I demanded, throwing my arms around. I don't know if I've ever felt so angry in my life. I don't know where the heck this strength is coming from- but it's powerful and feels almost too good. All this negative stuff that's built up inside me for I don't know how long is finally peaking, and it's making me want to explode. 

"Why am I the one you chew on?  What did I do?  Is it 'cos I kissed your hand?  I'm SORRY!  Is it 'cos I sang 'She's a Lady'?  I'm SORRY!  Okay?  There!  I'll never do it again!'  Do I still need pills?  I said I'm sorry!  Happy now? HAPPY?"

"Danny, lower your voice when you speak to-"

"I'LL SAY IT AS LOUD AS I F---ING WANT!"

The entire hall goes dead once my voice stops echoing those horrible nine words.  I cover my mouth.  I almost can't believe that came out of me.  It didn't sound like me at all.  But it was.

And I'm absolutely terrified.

I look into Ms. Rydinger's face, which is turning purple with pent-up rage, and I whisper, "Oh, Ms. Rydinger, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"Save it, Danny," she cuts me off.  "Save it for your mother- and the detention you just earned."