Light & Dark: The Awakening of the Mageknight (4 page)

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 school 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.

back to top

early two hours had passed when Danny put the
final defining words on the four-page essay. Beyond the windows,
the sun was barely visible, sending the last, soft waves of light
streaking into the cafeteria. It would be dark soon.

"I'm done," said Danny, holding the four
pieces of paper up for Mr. Ingram to see.

Mr. Ingram moved toward Danny, retrieved the
white pieces of paper and began to read.

Danny had been honest but, at the same time,
he'd written the essay in an attempt to play to his teacher's point
of view. He didn't want to have to write the paper over again.

After reading the last page, Mr. Ingram
lowered the papers to his side and said, "Good, well-written,
Danny. So the next time you find yourself in this situation, what
are you going to do?"

"Walk away," he lied
.

Danny had meant every word in their earlier
conversation. Steven was a menace to all the students in the
school, those who couldn't stick up for themselves, and Danny felt
good about what he'd done.