Danny's Demons Chapter 31 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 31: Closing Bell

Danny bolted down the hall in a hurry. He rounded the corner near the band room, nearly colliding with a passing student.

A voice got his attention. "Young man!"

He froze.

Principal Ishida stood a few feet away, arms crossed. He gave Danny a hard stare. "Where's your hall pass?"

Danny's heart sank. He didn't have one, and the last thing he needed was detention.

His mind scrambled for a solution. 'Alright... just a quick illusion.' He flicked his fingers behind his back and whispered a phrase as he reached into his pocket.

"What was that, young man?"

Danny pulled out an unremarkable, slightly crumpled hall pass. "I said it's right here, sir." Danny held it up to the man.

Principal Ishida squinted at the slip, then gave a curt nod. "Get to class. And no more wandering the halls."

"Yes, sir." Danny tried to keep his relief from showing as he turned and walked away. Once he rounded the corner and was out of sight, the pass disintegrated in his hand. He exhaled slowly. "Too close."

5th Period - Music

The music room smelled antique. Stacked chairs lined the back wall. An upright piano sat in the corner. Posters of Mozart, Aretha Franklin, and Jimi Hendrix hung along the wall.

Danny slid into a seat near the back, still catching his breath from before. He finally looked at the whiteboard.

In thick marker, it read: INSTRUMENT ASSIGNMENT - CHOOSE YOUR VOICE

Ms. Corrine stood nearby and flipped through a folder. "Today, we start the practical side of music. Each of you will pick an instrument. You'll spend the next few weeks learning how to play it, and at the end, you'll perform something simple."

That got a few mutters and frowns.

"I'm not expecting miracles." She tapped the folder closed. "You don't need to impress me. Just put in the time. Pick something you're curious about."

The moment Ms. Corrine gestured toward the instrument closet, half the class launched from their seats.

Students crowded the shelves, grabbing what they recognized or thought looked cool. One kid wearing sunglasses called dibs on the saxophone. Someone else snatched a trumpet and immediately started buzzing into it. The first wave took the easy wins and most of the popular stuff.

Danny stayed in his chair, watching the rush with quiet detachment. By the time his name was called, the closet had been thoroughly picked over. A few leftovers were scattered across the shelves. He walked in anyway, spotting a banged-up tuba, a bent triangle, and a cracked tambourine. Danny checked behind a few boxes that had been shoved to the side. Near the wall under a folded tarp, he spotted a large, rectangular case. He had to drag it out with both hands. "Ms. Corrine?" he called out. "What's this one?"

She looked up from the attendance sheet. "That? Oh. That's the drum set. Most kids don't bother with it, too heavy."

Danny ran a hand over the case. The outside was scuffed, but the latches still held firm.

He stood there for a moment. Danny never tried drums. Never even considered them. But something about it pulled at him. "Alright. I'll take it."

Ms. Corrine raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "A unique choice. But fair."

Danny brought the case to his seat and opened it slowly. Inside, the kit was older, but clean. He ran a hand over the snare, feeling the faint texture.

'Magic wasn't easy either,' he thought. 'And I learned that.'

He picked up a stick and gave the edge of the drum a test tap. It made a dry, low sound yet satisfying. 'Yeah. I can work with this.'

6th Period - Social Studies

Danny and Tucker slid into their usual spots near the back.

Mr. Nestor shut the door and held up a folder. "Today, you're starting a group project. Choose a major historical event or theme, research it, and present your findings three weeks from now. I'll be assigning the groups."

A chorus of groans followed.

Danny sank into his chair. Group projects always meant one thing: doing most of the work himself while the lazy and popular kid coasted and still got the same grade.

Mr. Nestor skimmed the clipboard. "Daniel Fenton, Tucker Foley, you're together."

Danny nudged Tucker. "Dynamic Duo, back in action." It finally seemed fair.

Tucker adjusted his glasses. "We got this."

Mr. Nestor paused. "Hmm. Odd number. Your third partner will be… Samantha Manson."

A few students turned to glance at the back corner. Sam Manson, dressed in her usual layers of black and violet, didn't flinch. She grabbed her bag and walked over, more annoyed than surprised.

"Great," she muttered, dropping into the seat beside them.

Mr. Nestor didn't react. "Think of it as a benefit. You now have three people to split the work."

Danny and Tucker exchanged a look. Neither said anything.

"Alright," Mr. Nestor continued. "Let's move into the next chapter. I'll pass out the syllabus after we review, and then you'll have time to meet with your group and plan."

#

As Mr. Nestor launched into the finer points of the assignment, Danny, Tucker, and Sam sat together in a triangle of silence.

They knew each other by name. The school wasn't that big, but this was the first time any of them had actually shared an extended conversation.

Tucker gave a small wave. "Uh… hey. I'm Tucker, officially."

Danny nodded beside him. "And I'm Danny. Also officially."

Sam crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Sam. Obviously."

There was a pause.

Danny glanced at the whiteboard, then back at their table. "So… any ideas?"

Sam didn't hesitate. "Revolutions."

Tucker blinked. "That's broad."

"French Revolution." She was already settling in like the matter was closed. "It mattered. The people got fed up and tore the whole system apart. Real stakes."

Tucker frowned. "Yeah, not would I call fun to research."

Sam shrugged. "It's history. Not a TV special."

Danny scratched the side of his neck. "Sure, but there are other options."

Tucker leaned forward. "We were actually thinking about the Space Race. Figured we'd stick with what we planned."

Sam tilted her head. "You already picked something?"

Danny shrugged. "We talked about it earlier. A lot happened in that era."

Tucker tapped his tablet. "It was this insane burst of progress

We had rockets, satellites, and computing. I can already imagine making a visual timeline. You could literally chart human advancement by the month."

"Yeah, people were dreaming bigger. We were literally reaching for the stars."

Sam didn't look impressed. "Nothing says 'for the greater good' like wasting government funds to see who can build the bigger missile."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "It wasn't about missiles."

"Wasn't it?"

Danny sat back, letting the two of them go at it and bounce back-and-forth. Both dug in. He imagined them at war, metaphorically. Sam at the barricades with a flag in one hand and a protest sign in the other. Tucker launched rockets with a computer on his wrist. That image lingered for a beat. Then it clicked. He stepped between their verbal trench. "Wait. There's a way to make this work. What if we zoom out? Just… cover the Cold War as a whole."

They both looked at him.

Danny kept going. "It includes the Space Race. That whole competition started because of Cold War tension. But it also has all the messy politics for you to go over.

'Grassroots movements... Questionable government operations…' thought Sam.

Tucker's shoulders eased. "So we don't lose the Space Race."

"Nope."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Remind everyone to beware the surveillance states and their propaganda? That's... actually not bad. I can work with that."

Danny exhaled. "Great. Then it's settled." Danny leaned back in his chair. "Finally."

Three weeks didn't feel so bad now. 'Er… Maybe I'm speaking too soon.

Afternoon

The final bell rang, and students were ready to head home. Danny had to stop by the music room again to pick up the drum case and a form about damage liability.

He propped the case near a bench and pulled out his phone.

It rang once. "Fentonworks!" Jack answered.

"Hey, Dad. Can you come pick me up? I've got, uh, a drum set. For school."

There was a long pause, followed by what sounded like a wrench hitting metal. "You're what-ing a drum set?" Jack asked, distracted.

"It's for a class project."

"I was in the middle of calibrating the ghost containment…"

Danny heard the phone shift.

"Danny?" Maddie's voice now. Calm. Clear. "Jack will be there in ten minutes."

Danny sighed. "Thanks, Mom."

He hung up, sat on the bench, and stared at the drum case. It looked bigger now that he wasn't moving it.

Ten minutes later, the unmistakable sound of the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle rounded the corner.

Danny stood, ignoring the curious looks from passing students, and rolled the case over.

Jack leaned out the window. "So. You join the marching band and forget to tell us?"

Danny shrugged. "Long-term project. Music class."

"Ah." Jack popped the back hatch. "Still proud. Just checking."

They loaded the case into the van with some creative angling. The ride home was short, save for a brief tangent from Jack about the acoustic properties of banshees.

At home, Danny grabbed his backpack and started upstairs. Jack followed behind, dragging the drum case.

At the landing, Maddie leaned out from the kitchen. "Homework?"

"Yeah, I'm on it."

"Eat something before you do."

"I will." Danny went back for a snack from the fridge and headed into his room. He took time to clear some space and set up the drum kit.

It took longer than expected. The diagram helped, but only barely. He had to reposition the hi-hat twice before it stopped wobbling. The snare legs weren't even at first. One of the toms had a bolt missing, but he found a spare. Eventually, it all came together.

Danny stepped back. The kit filled the corner of the room, snug but solid. He gave one of the toms a quick tap.

"Danny," Maddie called. "Octavia's here!"

He jogged down and opened it. Octavia stood there with a bag of snacks. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I'm here, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton!" she called out toward the basement.

"Welcome back, Octavia! Danny's home."

"I know."

They went upstairs, and Octavia stared at the drum set in his room. "When did you start playing this?"

"Literally today." Danny dropped onto his chair. "Long-term music assignment."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't strike me as a drummer."

"Neither did I. Thought it might be interesting."

"I suppose." Octavia crossed the room and flopped onto his bed, landing sideways with practiced ease. "So," She propped her chin on her hand. "How was school? And I mean the parts when you used magic."

Danny leaned back in his chair. Gave a faint smile."It's a mixed bag. Magic's been good for the small stuff. I could use the small wins."

Octavia shifted on the bed, propping herself up on one elbow. "Define 'small.'"

He hesitated. "There was a basketball game."

She immediately rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You used magic to become the star player, and now you're Mr. Popular?"

"Not really… I mean, at first, yeah. It felt good. Showing up Dash's team."

"Oh, you were against Dash? Screw him, I guess."

Danny scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… once I started doing better than him, he and his buddies kept shoulder-checking and fouling me the entire game."

Octavia sat up straighter. "Never mind. Screw him."

Danny gave a small laugh. "One of the nicer guys on my team complimented me after. Said I did great. It didn't feel as good as I thought it would."

She tilted her head, not surprised. "Told you."

"I know." He sighed. "I figured using a bit of magic to just… not suck was fine. Just enough to not drag the team down."

"That's not as bad, I guess."

"In hindsight, though… I don't think I want the spotlight. Not like that. I don't want to make enemies."

Octavia grinned. "Even if it means not getting the attention of all the pretty girls at school?"

Danny raised a brow. "Why would I do that when I have y-" He stopped, eyes widening slightly. His face flushed as he looked away. "Um…"

Octavia's cheeks went a little pink. She gave a small nod, looking down at her lap. "Oh… well, that's good."

Danny reached over to the stack of papers on his desk, grabbing the music sheet he'd printed earlier. Thinking fast, he held it out. "Come help me with this."

She took the page without question and slid off the bed. "Sure."