Danny's Demons Chapter 30 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 30: Venting

The game pressed on. Danny kept moving, kept calling for the ball. That last shot had done more than land, it had loosened something in him. He wasn’t second-guessing anymore.

He played faster now. Not reckless, just sharp. His hands moved with purpose, his feet stayed where they needed to be. He caught a pass near the top of the key, turned, and let it fly. The ball barely touched the rim on its way down.

Back on defense, he tracked his man tight. No drifting, no watching from the edges. When the ball swung wide, he was there to challenge it. His legs burned, but it wasn’t dragging him down. Not like before.

The next rebound came in hot. Danny reached over a taller kid and yanked it down, surprising even himself. A defender stepped up. Danny shifted, split through a narrow gap, and flipped a pass to the wing. His teammate caught it clean and scored on the drive.

They were talking now. His teammates. Calling his name. Passing him the ball.

On the next run, he drove the lane and took a shoulder from someone trying to draw a charge. He kept his balance and banked the shot in.

Dash's voice cut through. “Come on, Bryce! Do something!”

Danny glanced at him, just for a second, then looked away and jogged back upcourt.

Later, another shot. A deflection. Another pass from Danny that turned into points for someone else. The bench stood up cheering. In a way, it was relieving to see Dash’s frustration again since last Halloween.

Timeout.

The other team huddled. Dash didn’t.

Danny headed to the bench, chest rising and falling, sweat soaking through his shirt. But he could still breathe fine. One of the guys offered a fist bump.

When they got back on the court, Dash started fouling.

It wasn’t obvious. Nothing you’d get benched for. A shove too long after the whistle. A swipe at the wrist he claimed was for the ball. A hip check that knocked Danny. Always followed by the same empty line, “My bad.”

Danny stopped reacting. If Dash wanted him flustered, he’d have to work harder.

When Dash charged the hoop again, Danny met him. No retreat, no spell. Just grit and a read on where the hit would land. The ball popped free, bounced loose across the floor.

Bryce went for it, but Danny was faster. He snagged it, turned, and saw the gap. A defender moved to cut him off. Danny dipped his shoulder, slid past, and banked it in clean.

During a timeout, David sat down beside him. Quiet kid. Not part of the crowd that laughed when Dash made a scene. Just someone who actually practiced.

“Didn’t know you had moves like that,” David said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You should try out.”

Danny let out a short breath through his nose, half a laugh. “What?”

“You’ve got timing,” David said. “And you don’t freeze up. It’s more than most.”

Danny didn’t answer right away. He reached for his water bottle and took a long drink. Compliments like that didn’t usually come his way. And it didn’t sit right knowing he’d landed most of his shots with help from spells.

Especially not from someone like David, who actually cared about the sport, who didn’t cheat, who wasn’t trying to impress anyone but himself.

“I don’t think the team’s for me,” Danny said eventually.

David nodded, no pushback. That helped.

Danny knew the real reason. Tryouts meant afterschool practice. Practice meant locker rooms and team drills and Dash being Dash. No thanks. If he could help it, he wouldn’t spend a second more around that guy than he had to.

After that, the magic stayed put. He ran the court like everyone else, winded, clumsy in spots, but paying attention. He boxed out when needed. Set screens. Passed quick and clean. David got another basket. So did Cory.

By the final whistle, they’d pulled ahead by a few points.

Dash stalked off without a word. Bryce looked confused, like the loss hadn’t fully registered.

Danny dropped onto the bench, shirt sticking to his back, legs buzzing with fatigue. He drained what was left in his water bottle and let his head rest against the wall.

Someone clapped his shoulder in passing. “Didn’t know you could play, Fenton.”

Danny didn’t say anything. He just sat there, catching his breath

4th Period - Science

The overhead lights hummed in that way they always did, soft and slightly off-pitch. The kind of noise that faded from notice until you tried to focus.

Students came in, dropping their bags and claiming seats with the usual mix of sluggishness and quiet chatter. The black lab tables stretched from wall to wall, still faintly tacky in spots despite the signs begging everyone to clean up after themselves.

At the front, Mr. Brady sipped from a battered mug and squinted at the projector. His goggles were shoved up into his hair, forgotten. Across the screen, blocky white text read: New Unit: Matter and Motion.

“Alright,” he said, his voice already giving up on the day. “Time for physics. Let the excitement commence.”

A few groans followed, but Tucker leaned closer with a small grin. “Magnets. Circuits. Potential salvage,” he muttered.

Danny didn’t answer. He was busy sketching in the corner of his notebook, something circular, with sharp edges curling inward like blades. It didn’t mean anything. Not yet. But his mind was already elsewhere.

Maybe it was his parents’ influence, but lately, he found himself thinking more and more about the rules behind magic. It clearly didn’t follow the same laws as conventional physics, though some parts of it felt oddly familiar.

There were moments when he thought he saw overlap between his parents' research into ectoplasm and the way spell energy behaved. That could wait. For now, he was more interested in figuring out where the limits of magic really were. And whether those limits could be bent.

Mr. Brady eventually shifted them into group work, pairing students off to run a short experiment with paper drop tests. Danny and Tucker grabbed their worksheet and moved to the back of the room to set up.

They didn’t make it two steps before Dash bulldozed past.

His shoulder slammed into Tucker without hesitation. “Watch it, Foley,” he muttered, already walking away.

Tucker staggered, caught himself on the table, but his glasses didn’t survive the jolt. They slipped off his face and hit the floor with a sound that made Danny wince. A thin, too-quiet crack.

“Seriously?” Tucker crouched, already bracing for the worst.

Danny got there first. The glasses had a clean fracture across one lens, almost invisible, but definitely there. Mr. Brady was still at the front, distracted by a group trying to light a Bunsen burner without lighting themselves.

Danny slipped the glasses into his hands and quietly spoke the spell under his breath. A faint shimmer spread across the glass, like frost reversing itself. The crack vanished.

He handed them back without pause. “Here. Probably just a smudge or hairline scratch. Looked worse than it was.”

Tucker blinked at them, then shrugged. “Huh. Lucky, I guess.” He slid them back on and went right back to unfolding the worksheet.

Danny gave a small nod, but his eyes drifted back toward Dash. “If this keeps up, he thought, I’m going to be casting repairs every other period.”

Lunch & Recess

Middle schoolers drifted toward the cafeteria in loose clumps, their voices blending into the usual lunchtime murmur. The best tables, under the ceiling fans or by the windows, were gone in seconds, claimed by the kids who always got there first.

Danny trailed near the back, lunch tray in hand, already regretting whatever was sitting on it. Today’s offering: square pizza, soft canned vegetables, a scoop of fruit cocktail, and a handful of tossed salad that looked like it had been shaken in a bag and dumped by accident. Worse, it wasn’t even the usual pizza. Different brand. Different outcome.

At a nearby table, a kid poked his slice with a plastic fork. “This pizza tastes like wet cardboard,” he muttered, then proceeded to peel off the cheese like it had wronged him.

Danny took his usual seat near the edge of the room, away from the bigger groups and louder voices. Tucker was already there, seated across from him, busy mixing his fruit cocktail with chocolate pudding.

“For science,” Tucker said without looking up.

Danny didn’t respond. He just stared down at his pizza with quiet dismay. After a moment, he glanced around, then waited until Tucker’s attention wandered, specifically to a girl passing by in a denim jacket. Once Tucker was sufficiently distracted, Danny slipped his hand under the table and whispered a small incantation.

A shimmer passed through the slice, brief and invisible. The crust warmed. Cheese softened and re-melted. The scent lifted, real pepperoni, buttery crust, toasted edges.

Danny took a bite. It didn’t taste like magic. It tasted like something made in an actual kitchen.

“Oh wow,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “That’s… way better.”

Tucker glanced over. “Wait, did they give you a different slice?”

Danny shrugged and kept chewing. “Maybe. Guess I got lucky.”

Tucker squinted but moved on. He gave his pudding-fruit concoction one more stir before setting the spoon down. “Hey, when are we hanging out again? You, me, and Octavia?”

Danny swallowed and reached for his drink. “This weekend should work. Her dad’s dropping her off Saturday afternoon. He’s got work or something.”

“What does Mr. Stolas even do again?” Tucker asked.

Danny leaned back slightly. “He’s an astronomer.”

“Yeah, I know that part. But what does he actually do? Like… for other people? Guy’s loaded, right? Not just from looking at stars.”

Danny hesitated, picking at the corner of his napkin. “He comes from a rich family. But for work, yeah, he does... contracts. Deals. He helps people.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

Danny nodded once. “It’s complicated. Some people want his help for good reasons. Others… not so much.”

Tucker didn’t push, just popped the lid off his juice and nodded. “Fair enough. Still cool that he trusts her to hang out with us.”

Danny smirked and took another bite of pizza. “It’s probably more about getting her out of the house. And away from her mom.”

Tucker gave a sympathetic wince and went back to stirring his lunch experiment. “Still. Saturday’s gonna be fun.”

“Yeah,” Danny said, already thinking of which spell to practice next. “It will.”

#

After lunch, students drifted across the schoolyard in loose knots. Some ran for the cracked asphalt court, trying to cram in a half-game before the bell. Others huddled beneath scraggly trees, thumbing through their phones or talking in low voices. A few disappeared into the library, chasing either silence or air conditioning.

Tucker had peeled off toward the computer lab to finish his robotics draft. Danny almost followed, but the sky felt too open to waste under fluorescent lights. He found a bench near the edge of the yard and sat down, shouldering off his backpack.

He pulled out his journal and opened to a blank page. Jazz called it emotional regulation. Stolas, of course, had called it “mental alignment for arcane discipline.” Whatever. It helped.

He started writing.

Mom and Dad have been more distracted lately. The Ghost Portal’s almost done, and I guess that’s all they see now. I don’t blame them exactly… It’s their life’s work. However, it sometimes feels like their work is more important.

Stolas actually listens. He checks in. It’s not the same, but sometimes it feels nice. I don’t know if that makes him a parent figure or just a better adult than I’m used to. 

He thought for a moment.

Octavia’s been hanging out more. It’s been fun. It’s easy with her. Less pressure. She doesn’t treat me like I’m supposed to prove something every time I open my mouth. She makes things feel brighter than usual. I think I might be…

“Yo, check out Fenton,” Dash scoffed. “Bet he’s writing .”

Danny didn’t look up. Just pressed his pen to the corner of the page and held still.

The crunch of shoes on dead grass closed in. Kwan and Dale didn’t say anything, but they didn’t have to. The air shifted around them.

Dash stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into Danny, harder than necessary. The impact knocked Danny half a step off balance. He caught himself against the edge of the bench, but the lunch tray he’d meant to return slipped from his grip and hit the ground with a loud rattle, apple slice skidding one way, carton of milk spinning the other.

His notebook dropped with it.

He reached down, too late.

Dash snatched it up with one hand and grinned like he’d just struck gold. The cover flapped open in his fingers, pages rustling as he thumbed through them.

“Let’s see what sissy Fenton’s diary says,” he called, loud enough for other kids nearby to glance over.

Danny stepped forward. “Give it back.”

Dash ignored him, landing on a page thick with messy, heavy pen strokes. He read aloud, tone mocking:

“‘Dash Baxter is a walking migraine in human form. Built like a linebacker, thinks like a toaster.’”

Kwan snorted.

Dash blinked, eyes scanning faster, flipping the page.

“‘If yelling and breathing were Olympic sports, he’d still come in last. Can’t finish a sentence without sounding like he’s chewing gravel.’”

Dale started laughing. Loudly.

Danny didn’t say a word. He stood there, fists clenched but still.

Dash’s face tightened. His voice rose, louder now.

“‘Brain the size of a jawbreaker, ego the size of his dad’s truck. Can’t spell ‘win,’ but he’s got the tantrum part down.’”

That did it.

Kwan bent double, wheezing. Dale slapped his leg and had to lean on the bench.

Dash froze. The laughter wasn’t with him anymore.

His grip on the notebook twitched.

Then he snapped. He hurled the journal at Danny’s head with a choked, furious noise.

Danny didn’t flinch. His hand snapped up on reflex, snatching it out of the air before it could connect. He met Dash’s glare without blinking.

That was it.

Dash let out a sound somewhere between a shout and a growl and lunged forward, arm outstretched.

Danny spun and ran.