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Description
Danny Fenton was failing.

It was common knowledge pretty much everyone in Casper High knew, yet not something everyone would care for. If you asked around about a nobody named Danny Fenton, people would most likely recognize him as the kid who skids in late every class period with bloodshot eyes and exasperated breathing, or the kid who gets an F on even the easiest of classes because he either took it or he was never there to do so. In that retrospect he was a renown slacker- probably the biggest one seeing that he beat even the worst of the worst slackers at their own game. It was believed no conscious effort could bring someone to be failing so horribly, so everyone just assumed he brought it upon himself (but for what, they hardly knew).

But if reality could serve as a rightful judge and mediator in between truth and lies, it would testify that that wasn't the case. Danny Fenton, for a matter of fact, did care about his grades. Every zero, every missing assignment, every stutter when called on, and every big red FAIL still gave him pangs of disappointment to his own dismay. As much as it hurt to get failing grades, it hurt even more to know that he could have studied, he could have listened, he could have arrived at class, he could have achieved these things if he was normal. And oft times the lost opportunity put him down so much that he only wished to push it away and at least be graced with the euphoria of apathy.

What was worse was his reputation got to the point where even the teachers deemed him a hopeless wreck. At least once they used to shake their heads, but most of them hardly gave him the slightest expression when they passed back results of the last test. They just assumed- like everyone else in the goddamn school- that Danny Fenton wanted to bring this upon himself and it was fine for him to map out his own demise into the pits. Hell it began to make him angry when he heard their unconcerned sighs, when he watched them turn away, when he knew that they weren't upset or at the least bit resentful- they just didn't care. And Danny could say all his teachers abandoned him and tossed him down the landslide if not for one.

"Daniel, can I speak to you for a moment?"

The daily routine. The clutter of metal chair legs as they scooted out, the zip zip of backpacks as students collected their books and the soft murmur as they all slipped into their long withheld conversations. They all made for the exit which Danny would only get halfway through before he would be stopped at the door.

Thank God for Mr. Lancer.

"What is it? Is it the essay I didn't turn in or the last discussion paper? Is it about my test results? Just make it fast, I'm booking something for the afternoon."

Mr. Lancer stared transfixed at the boy's eyes, downcast but with an odd determination, his body stiff and tired like an apathetic apparition. "Yes- well, no- well yes, kind of. You're failing, Danny-" Mr. Lancer watched Danny's eyes as they rolled right out of their sockets- "but I know how much you want your grades to be better."

Immediately Danny's face became brightened, his eyes widening. It was such a change of expression with such uncharacteristic life swimming in him, Lancer wanted to catch it but it was immediately blocked by another facade. "Yeah?" His voice, however, did change. It wasn't dull or tired anymore- at least not as much. "You really think so? Why?"

It was such an odd question. "Why? Because I know no one in their right minds would want this upon themselves. At least someone as intelligent as you, Daniel."

"I-intelligent?" the words caught in the boy's throat, a bit flattered but mostly confused. "Why would you think that? I practically fail, well, everything and there's no reason to use euphemisms at this point."

"Don't give me that. Jazz has shown me some of your past works, your old essays, and I was thoroughly impressed by the quality you could muster for your age. And I know just by looking at you you aren't very happy with where you are now." Danny's eyes traveled down, and for a second Mr. Lancer could see the deepest sadness in him- the sadness he chased away with a blank slate expression. But it was like chasing away fog that continued to linger. "So I'm going to give you another opportunity."

"You-" his stature straightened. "You are...?"

"Yes," Lancer nodded, scooting towards his desk where he started to shuffle through his desk. "But it's up to you if you want to take it or not. I know you're 'busy' and I can't force you to do extra credit."

"How... How much will it raise my grade?"

"It depends on the quality of the writing. If it's mediocre, maybe a whole letter grade- you'll at least have a D I guess, but if it's great maybe I can," Lancer looked at Danny and smiled his way. "I'll be a bit gracious and give you a B at the most."

He really piqued Danny's interest this time. "That's quite a lot... For just one assignment? Isn't that kind of unfair?"

"Daniel, the whole school system is pretty unfair as it is, judging a child's intelligence by a letter grade instead of their actual, potential intelligence. I know you have a lot of potential, and that's all which matters to me."

The boy looked completely dumbfounded for a second, staring at Lancer in disbelief. But Lancer saw the greatest thing when the corners of his lips began to edge up and his eyes brightened with a flip of the switch. He saw the greatest thing he could probably ask for in his teaching career- the genuine smile of his student. "I can't believe this. This is great, thank you so much-" His feet shuffled in place a little as if repressing the great urge to pounce around in joy. "What... what's the assignment then?"

Lancer pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Danny. "A creative writing assignment."

Danny eyed Lancer. "Pft, creative writing? Isn't that a little bit too easy for something you're willing to raise up to three letter grades for?"

"In my eyes, no. Again, it depends on how much quality you put into it," Lancer got up out of his chair (with a bit more effort as his stomach scrunched and jutted out) and pointed to the syllabus on the paper. "There's some criteria here. You can use it as a guideline to work at home, or you can stay afterschool if you need me to help you."

Again, the dumbfounded stare. "That's awfully kind of you, Lancer. You don't need to go home or anything?"

"Please, the only person waiting for me there is my sister. And I've really had enough of her already," Lancer laughed, glancing at the picture on his desk of himself in a red dress- the picture he only used in the case of emergency motivational speeches.

For a while, Danny only stared. Down at the paper, up at Mr. Lancer, and doing that again and again. It was like watching a starved animal holding food in it's hand for the first time in months and eyeing its giver in disbelief. Mr. Lancer maintained his smile, but felt a drowning sympathy for him. How hopeless did this boy think he was?

"Well? Are we going to get started or not?"

Description
Danny Fenton was failing.

It was common knowledge pretty much everyone in Casper High knew, yet not something everyone would care for. If you asked around about a nobody named Danny Fenton, people would most likely recognize him as the kid who skids in late every class period with bloodshot eyes and exasperated breathing, or the kid who gets an F on even the easiest of classes because he either took it or he was never there to do so. In that retrospect he was a renown slacker- probably the biggest one seeing that he beat even the worst of the worst slackers at their own game. It was believed no conscious effort could bring someone to be failing so horribly, so everyone just assumed he brought it upon himself (but for what, they hardly knew).

But if reality could serve as a rightful judge and mediator in between truth and lies, it would testify that that wasn't the case. Danny Fenton, for a matter of fact, did care about his grades. Every zero, every missing assignment, every stutter when called on, and every big red FAIL still gave him pangs of disappointment to his own dismay. As much as it hurt to get failing grades, it hurt even more to know that he could have studied, he could have listened, he could have arrived at class, he could have achieved these things if he was normal. And oft times the lost opportunity put him down so much that he only wished to push it away and at least be graced with the euphoria of apathy.

What was worse was his reputation got to the point where even the teachers deemed him a hopeless wreck. At least once they used to shake their heads, but most of them hardly gave him the slightest expression when they passed back results of the last test. They just assumed- like everyone else in the goddamn school- that Danny Fenton wanted to bring this upon himself and it was fine for him to map out his own demise into the pits. Hell it began to make him angry when he heard their unconcerned sighs, when he watched them turn away, when he knew that they weren't upset or at the least bit resentful- they just didn't care. And Danny could say all his teachers abandoned him and tossed him down the landslide if not for one.

"Daniel, can I speak to you for a moment?"

The daily routine. The clutter of metal chair legs as they scooted out, the zip zip of backpacks as students collected their books and the soft murmur as they all slipped into their long withheld conversations. They all made for the exit which Danny would only get halfway through before he would be stopped at the door.

Thank God for Mr. Lancer.

"What is it? Is it the essay I didn't turn in or the last discussion paper? Is it about my test results? Just make it fast, I'm booking something for the afternoon."

Mr. Lancer stared transfixed at the boy's eyes, downcast but with an odd determination, his body stiff and tired like an apathetic apparition. "Yes- well, no- well yes, kind of. You're failing, Danny-" Mr. Lancer watched Danny's eyes as they rolled right out of their sockets- "but I know how much you want your grades to be better."

Immediately Danny's face became brightened, his eyes widening. It was such a change of expression with such uncharacteristic life swimming in him, Lancer wanted to catch it but it was immediately blocked by another facade. "Yeah?" His voice, however, did change. It wasn't dull or tired anymore- at least not as much. "You really think so? Why?"

It was such an odd question. "Why? Because I know no one in their right minds would want this upon themselves. At least someone as intelligent as you, Daniel."

"I-intelligent?" the words caught in the boy's throat, a bit flattered but mostly confused. "Why would you think that? I practically fail, well, everything and there's no reason to use euphemisms at this point."

"Don't give me that. Jazz has shown me some of your past works, your old essays, and I was thoroughly impressed by the quality you could muster for your age. And I know just by looking at you you aren't very happy with where you are now." Danny's eyes traveled down, and for a second Mr. Lancer could see the deepest sadness in him- the sadness he chased away with a blank slate expression. But it was like chasing away fog that continued to linger. "So I'm going to give you another opportunity."

"You-" his stature straightened. "You are...?"

"Yes," Lancer nodded, scooting towards his desk where he started to shuffle through his desk. "But it's up to you if you want to take it or not. I know you're 'busy' and I can't force you to do extra credit."

"How... How much will it raise my grade?"

"It depends on the quality of the writing. If it's mediocre, maybe a whole letter grade- you'll at least have a D I guess, but if it's great maybe I can," Lancer looked at Danny and smiled his way. "I'll be a bit gracious and give you a B at the most."

He really piqued Danny's interest this time. "That's quite a lot... For just one assignment? Isn't that kind of unfair?"

"Daniel, the whole school system is pretty unfair as it is, judging a child's intelligence by a letter grade instead of their actual, potential intelligence. I know you have a lot of potential, and that's all which matters to me."

The boy looked completely dumbfounded for a second, staring at Lancer in disbelief. But Lancer saw the greatest thing when the corners of his lips began to edge up and his eyes brightened with a flip of the switch. He saw the greatest thing he could probably ask for in his teaching career- the genuine smile of his student. "I can't believe this. This is great, thank you so much-" His feet shuffled in place a little as if repressing the great urge to pounce around in joy. "What... what's the assignment then?"

Lancer pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Danny. "A creative writing assignment."

Danny eyed Lancer. "Pft, creative writing? Isn't that a little bit too easy for something you're willing to raise up to three letter grades for?"

"In my eyes, no. Again, it depends on how much quality you put into it," Lancer got up out of his chair (with a bit more effort as his stomach scrunched and jutted out) and pointed to the syllabus on the paper. "There's some criteria here. You can use it as a guideline to work at home, or you can stay afterschool if you need me to help you."

Again, the dumbfounded stare. "That's awfully kind of you, Lancer. You don't need to go home or anything?"

"Please, the only person waiting for me there is my sister. And I've really had enough of her already," Lancer laughed, glancing at the picture on his desk of himself in a red dress- the picture he only used in the case of emergency motivational speeches.

For a while, Danny only stared. Down at the paper, up at Mr. Lancer, and doing that again and again. It was like watching a starved animal holding food in it's hand for the first time in months and eyeing its giver in disbelief. Mr. Lancer maintained his smile, but felt a drowning sympathy for him. How hopeless did this boy think he was?

"Well? Are we going to get started or not?"