Chapter 2 - Trigger of Power
anny awoke to the same sound most mornings, the high-pitched voice of his mother yelling his name.
Stretching, he yawned and went through the motions of the morning. He got dressed, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, gave his mother a goodbye hug and went out to meet the bus.
The universe seemed right. Once again, Alonso plopped down next to him in the same seat that he always did, continuing to make meaningless small talk. Danny had come to learn that Alonso had a tendency to tell some outrageous fibs from time to time, yet they tended to be more amusing than anything else, so he felt content to let his friend babble.
A month had gone by; the sun rose just as it always did, casting a warm glow onto Danny's left cheek, Alonso continued to tell his tall tale.
The bus door screeched open and Danny followed in the tradition of standing up behind his friend, even though he'd been sitting toward the back. It would still be a little while before the line started moving. After a few moments, he worked his way to the front of the bus, greeted by chilly air. Winter hinted its approach, but he found the cool breeze refreshing.
The school day progressed just like any other day. Danny participated in a heated game of baseball during gym class; he struggled to make interesting small talk with his lab partner, Sabrina, in science class and he ate lunch with Matt, Chris, and Alonso. At least, it seemed like a normal day.
"Hey, Firoth!" an obnoxious voice yelled out, loud, deep, and throaty.
Danny stopped in mid-step. He was almost to the bus. He sighed, he knew whose voice had beckoned him. Turning, his fears were confirmed as he spotted Steven Rooney and his goons walking straight toward him.
Clay Tanter stood to Steven's left, Clay was a, tall, slender boy with slick black hair, known for his ability on the football team as the school's quarterback. Marie Topeland swayed menacingly on Stephen's right.
"Hold on, Firoth, I'm talking to you."
Danny looked around for anyone who could offer some assistance; he found only sympathy in the faces that regarded him. They weren't about to help him-his friend Chris was nowhere to be found. Alonso was probably already on the bus and Matt couldn't help, even if he was around and willing-he was no fighter.
Steven walked up and stopped a few feet from Danny's face. "You think it's funny, I failed that history test, Firoth?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I saw you laugh when Mrs. Swortsberger blurted out that I had the lowest grade in the class."
"Hey, Danny, what's going on?" a familiar voice asked from behind.
Danny turned to find Doug Garrett standing nearby. Doug was a newcomer to his circle of friends, as well as a Knights gamer. Doug dressed in the latest fashions, faded jeans, flip-flops, and light-colored polos-blue today. He often moved in the upper circles and kept himself distanced from those who would threaten him with bodily harm. No one ever seemed to be safe from Steven.
Looking on with a mixture of curiosity and fear, Doug stopped mid-step as he saw Steven Rooney looming just beyond him, where Danny stood.
"Get lost, fatty."
Doug was modestly plump-but Steven had the worst timing ever.
"Don't call him that!" Danny yelled, growing a backbone.
"What're you gonna do about it, Firoth?" Steven asked, inching forward so that his face was only a short distance from Danny's.
"I'm going to?"
"Shut up," interrupted Steven, stepping within striking distance, shoving Danny backwards.
Danny stumbled back and felt his body topple over. Instead of fighting the fall, he embraced it, rolling his body into a small ball. He planted both hands on the hard cement of the sidewalk; his back began to lift like a teeter-totter and he pushed himself upward. He landed flat on his feet with his fists balled up, poised for a fight.
"Oh, you wanna fight, Firoth?" Steven snickered.
Looking down at himself, Danny noticed his stance and his clenched fists. He hadn't done that on purpose, he really didn't want to fight. Looking around, he noticed that the confrontation was drawing a crowd. If he backed down now, he'd surely earn the label of coward. However, if he didn't, he knew he was going to get hurt. What do I do now?
Danny desperately wanted to run away, but he held his ground.
Steven stepped closer. "Oh, you're gonna get it now, Firoth," drawing back his right fist.
Time seemed to slow as Danny focused his mind, he clenched his fists tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white.
An outline of Steven's body broke free of his physical form. The silhouette was white, translucent, like a ghost leaving its body. It jumped forward with a closed fist, followed through and released a wicked right-handed punch that dissipated as it passed through Danny's stomach without the slightest hint of density.
Confused, without a clue about what had just transpired, Danny stood still as a stone, stunned. However, he had no time to figure it out-time seemed to refocus, Steven stepped forward, moved in the exact same motion that the image had predicted he would, and connected with a solid punch to Danny's abdomen. An overpowering sensation of pain forced the air from Danny's lungs as his legs buckled beneath him; he toppled to his knees.
"That's what you get, Firoth," goaded Steven as he turned to leave.
Danny crisscrossed his arms around his stomach as he struggled to breathe. "It's? not? over," he said, wheezing through grunts and groans.
Steven stopped mid-step before turning back to face Danny; his expression was one of utter joy.
Coughing, Danny shuffled to his feet. He let his right hand fall to his side in a balled fist while his left remained clutched at his stomach.
Smiling, Steven stepped back within striking distance.
Rage fueled Danny's movements and focused his mind. Again, an image appeared in the form of a soft, white aura, outlining Steven's body. It moved just in front of him, predicting his progress.
"Are you sure about this, Firoth?" Steven asked, placing his hands on his hips.
Danny grimaced as he watched the outline of the larger boy's next move. "Positive," he said, ignoring the pain in his stomach.
The aura surrounding Steven's body jumped forward as the phantom image of his right arm slipped down from his side and shot outward. Aimed at the tip of Danny's nose, the balled fist passed harmlessly through his head, causing him to flinch in an instinctive reaction.
Moments later, Steven followed through with the same movement the silhouette had predicted.
Recovering from his confusion, knowing where the arm of the bigger boy would end up, Danny dodged to the right and aimed his own fist for the center of Steven's face. Connecting solidly, Danny's arm shuddered from the impact. The blow produced a loud thud, followed by a slight cracking sound; it sounded like a stalk of celery snapping in half.
Steven's expression turned from determination to surprise as he fell backward, his hands covering his face in a mix of pain and protection.
Danny stood at the ready, hovering over the larger boy. Steven was laid out on the ground in front of him. Danny remained still, fists balled up, prepared for whatever Steven might try next; he felt the eyes of everyone upon him. However, Steven never got up.
The only sound seemed to be coming from Steven's cries of agony as he clutched his nose. Crimson seeped from between Steven's fingers, streaming down the slope of his face, a sight Danny was not ready to see.
I didn't mean to hurt him. It wasn't my fault. He attacked me first. These thoughts, as well as many others, rushed through his mind.
Danny looked into the eyes of Marie Topeland as she stood behind her fallen friend. Her face showed a mixture of surprise and horror. Seeing nothing but fear in her gaze, Danny looked at Clay. Danny's sudden eye contact caused the slender boy to take a step backward.
"Danny Firoth!"
That's Mr. Ingram, my physical education teacher.
Strong arms gripped him and held him fast. "There's no fighting allowed on sc
hool grounds, you know that."
Confusion and fear spread through Danny's body like a forest fire.
Steven rolled from side to side, holding his face. A small puddle of blood began to accumulate beneath him.
"Take him to the nurse's office," Mr. Ingram said to Marie and Clay. Neither of them moved, shock still on their faces.
"Now!" ordered Mr. Ingram.
They nodded slowly, helped Steven to his feet and began walking back toward the school.
"You're coming with me, Danny Firoth. We're going to call your mother and tell her what happened. Then you're going to detention."
Unable to believe what had just happened, with no real choice of his own, Danny found himself pulled back toward the school.
He was hauled up the stairs to the double glass doors, the entrance to the middle school. Wide eyes and astonished faces regarded him. Danny couldn't decide whether they viewed him as a hero or a villain. Among them, he noticed Matt's curious, surprised stare.
Mr. Ingram pulled Danny through the doors, across the hall and threw him into a padded chair in the office. The stuffing in the seat was minimal, very uncomfortable upon impact.
"I didn't start it," Danny pleaded, watching Mr. Ingram dig through student files.
"Well, you certainly finished it, didn't you?" He pulled out a manila-colored folder with Danny's name printed at the top. He walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver and began dialing.
Danny sighed as he sank back into the uncomfortable chair.
"Hello, Ms. Patricia Firoth, please," Mr. Ingram said into the receiver.
Unwilling to listen to the conversation, Danny turned his attention to the students passing by in the hall, wishing he was one of them.
"Danny," said Matt, poking his head in through the office doors, "What happened?"
"I, uh?"
"This doesn't concern you, Mr. Mickler," Mr. Ingram said, before Danny could verbalize his plight.
Matt cringed, apologized and vanished into the thinning crowd in the hall.
"Patricia Firoth?" Mr. Ingram asked, turning his attention back to the phone.
Danny listened as Mr. Ingram explained the situation in cringing detail.
"Yes... okay... understood." He hung up the phone and turned to Danny. "Come with me," gesturing with his finger while opening the glass door with his other hand.
Danny shuffled his feet in an attempt to buy time, but he complied.
"You're going straight to detention," Mr. Ingram informed him. "Your mother is going to pick you up afterward." He led Danny a short way down the hall and turned right. They went down two flights of stairs; Mr. Ingram opened a pair of dark-green doors that led into the cafeteria.
"Sit here!" Mr. Ingram pointed at a specific table. "Be quiet, no sleeping. I'm going to find you something to do," he said, leaving Danny by himself in the large, empty room.
Left to his own devices, Danny went over the incident in his mind. The events were already beginning to blur, to meld into one another. It all happened so fast, and yet, somehow, he'd beat-up the biggest kid in eighth grade. The beginnings of a smile creased his cheeks the more he thought about it. People would look at him differently now. The smile widened; Danny felt the amusement build. I'll be a hero, he thought to himself, fighting the glee he was feeling.
"I don't know why you're smiling," Mr. Ingram said as he returned with a handful of pencils and some paper.
Danny's smile disappeared faster than it had begun.
Laying the pencil and paper down in front of Danny, Mr. Ingram continued, "You're going to write Mr. Rooney an apology letter, and you're going to write me a four-page essay about 'why it's not acceptable to fight in school'."
"But, I didn't?"
"That doesn't matter right now. If you'd done what any other sensible person would've done, walked away, you wouldn't be in this position, would you?"
"And what, be laughed at by everyone else?"
Mr. Ingram put both hands on the table and met Danny's eyes in a tense stare. "It takes more courage to do what's right than it does to try to look cool, Mr. Firoth."
Danny looked away and focused on the center of the table. "You don't know what it's like," Danny said in a soft voice. "Steven picks on everyone and if I don't stand up to him, who will?"
Mr. Ingram's voice grew softer, mimicking Danny's low tone. "Are you going to fight the whole world, Danny? Are you going to save everyone?"
Danny felt confusion and frustration burning within his stomach. The argument had taken a turn he hadn't expected. He let his silence answer for him.
Mr. Ingram sighed and pushed the paper toward him. "Just work on the assignment, Danny." He turned and walked toward a desk in the corner.
"Yes," Danny said to his teacher's back.
"Yes, what, Danny?" turning around, looking at his student with obvious curiosity.
"I'll always fight for what's right. I'll defend those who can't defend themselves, no matter what."
"Then I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other." He turned back to his desk.
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