The Chess

Maddy stared at her phone for a long time, barely paying attention to the cleaning she and Jack had started in the lab when they got home. Yes, their children had removed the flammable items and papers, but it didn't seem like the lab was particularly clean. Normally, they would have been scolded for their carelessness, but in light of recent events, Jack hadn't even mentioned it. — Damn, — Maddy hissed in annoyance. The anti-ghost belt in her hand sparked and burned her, forcing her to put her mobile back in her hip pouch. — Is everything all right? — Jack, who had not taken his eyes off his wife, rolled up the blueprints and put them in a tube. — Yes, — the woman replied distractedly, removing the power supply from the device. — It's not good enough, — she said, placing the device's battery in a wall cabinet and casually tossing the belt into a box of "unnecessary." He felt a slight resentment towards his wife for dismissing his work so easily, but he didn't say anything. He had had enough of arguing. Besides, the woman still didn't look right. Jack couldn't say exactly how. For himself, he was able to define his wife's behavior as follows: as if she was still offended and had not forgiven him for the last puncture. She suspended all research so that I could devote more time to the children. It seemed strange, because they live together, have breakfast and dinner together every morning. They spend weekends together. And even went to a reunion together not so long ago. It's a shame to admit, but it seems that his wife's sister is right: he's a blockhead and can't even fully understand his own wife. It was even more hurtful because it took him a serious argument with his beloved wife to understand the old owl's words. — I won't be gone long, — Maddy turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. — Make a call, — she clarified, as if hinting at something. — Turn off all the portable devices that are currently under development. They won't be needed until Halloween. The last time Maddy had been so adamant about their little break in experiments was a long time ago. It seemed to be during Danny's first serious illness, but he couldn't remember for sure. Back then, he had insisted, persuaded, and argued, but now he meekly agreed with everything, even though he didn't see the point or the serious necessity of her actions. Jack watched his wife walk up to the first floor, dialing someone on her phone. — Anything but talking to that Alice, — Jack thought distantly, setting the tube of blueprints aside. Deciding to follow his wife up the stairs, he stopped halfway up, listening to the quiet sound of her voice from the kitchen and considering for a moment what he was going to do right now. Maddy’s chuckle reached his ears. There was hardly anything truly secret about a person’s conversation when they were laughing, even if it look like so forced. Jack shook his head and climbed the stairs. — ...I agree, he's nervous. I hope they didn't cause any trouble. — Maddy stood at the kitchen sink, holding her finger, which had been burned by a spark from the anti-ghost belt, under a thin stream of cold water. — That's nice to hear, of course, but I already know that, — she said with a chuckle, holding the phone to her shoulder and carefully drying her hands with a paper towel. — But Danny tends to exaggerate troubles, and I don't want to give the wrong impression because of that. And... The other person seemed to have interrupted her. It wasn't particularly tactful, but Maddy just sighed loudly, nodding more to herself than to the person she was calling. — I've caused trouble too. I shouldn't have distracted you from your work... It's a good thing you were on your way, but it's little consolation, — the woman thought for a moment, blowing on her red, swollen finger. — Tell me, has anything else happened to him? — Maddy threw the paper towel into the trash can under the sink. The voice on the phone was audible, but not clear enough to be identified. ― I don't think it's ethical to talk about it, let alone ask about it. The woman stepped away from the sink, shifting her grip on the phone. Still with her back to the lab entrance, she listened quietly to the voice on the phone, rubbing her temple with her free hand. She don't have any friends in the neighborhood, in the city, or on the school's parent-teacher council. They had always been content with each other's company. At least, that's what Jack assumed, trying to figure out who his wife was talking to. — It's probably obvious to someone as perceptive as you. Well, thank you for the information, — Maddy said on a sigh. — And thank you again for looking after them, Vlad. It was really nice of you. Jack retreated a couple of steps into the depths of the basement, his fingers still clinging to the railing by inertia. The cold metal felt scorching under his fingers. He didn't consider himself a jealous person. And he was trying hard to convince himself of that right now.

***

— You have a week to prepare a presentation on your family history, — the teacher, a short, middle―aged man with an unpronounceable surname, adjusted his thick glasses that had slipped down the tip of his nose. ― It's more than enough if you allocate your time wisely, rather than doing everything at the last moment. I hope that by the end of the week of Cheerful Spirit, by the centenary of our beloved school, you will have prepared a decent job and will learn more not only about your family, but also about yourself. Danny had been looking forward to the bell ringing more than his own birthday. Next was the lunch break, and the still hungry ghost was eager to fill their shared stomach with something. Fortunately, it would take less food now. — Friend, when you said you were hungry, I didn't realize how much your stomach would be howling, — Tucker said, slapping him on the shoulder. — I hope you have enough grass if you didn't bring lunch. — Grass? — Danny asked, looking at his friend in confusion. — Hasn't Sam calmed down? ― No, she's just gotten more into her ultra-freakish veganism, — Tucker sighed wearily, showing his friend several containers of his favorite meat and side dishes. — I'll share if you want. Mom was in a real mood this weekend, and she cooked enough food for an little army. Danny sniffed the aromas from Tucker's backpack. Salami, a medium-rare steak with a bone full of marrow, and a variety of spices and herbs that Mrs. Foley idolized. The pleasant, slightly plump woman always smelled of spices. Her kitchen was adorned with dried bouquets of herbs that she used to make meals, brew teas and lemonades, and create headache remedies. In this, she painfully reminded him of Aunt Alice. The two women clearly would have been friends if there had been any chance for them to meet. Tucker seemed to have absorbed the scents of the herbs. It's strange that Danny hadn't noticed it before. The smell of the roast was overpowered by the ghost's cold breath. An amorphous shadow, shrouded in an otherworldly glow, flashed through the small, cloudy window of the school psychologist's office. — Grab a chair for me, — Danny said as he disappeared behind the bathroom door. — Wait, you forgot... — Tucker rushed after his friend, but the bathroom was empty. — The thermos, — the boy finished. — This isn't going to end well.

***

If Danny had heard Tucker before he started chasing the spirit, he would have agreed with him one hundred percent. The ghost had exhausted him, and without the thermos, there was no way to subdue it. The small, shapeless imp changed its body as it pleased, as if it were made of living plasticine. It was agile, quick, and resilient, and unlike Danny himself, it was well-fed. It was difficult to focus on attacks and chasing when the rumbling of one's stomach overpowered almost all thoughts. He was tired, exhausted, and had missed lunch. The Phantom wanted food and rest, not to chase small, harmful shadows. He should have let the students live their lives and let them rest. Unfortunately for both of them, Danny did not share his Alter's perspective. — Could you be a little quieter, Mr. Fenton? — Lancer barked irritably after another "whale-like" rumble from the teenager's stomach, causing the class to chuckle. The embarrassment made him want to sink through the floor, but the fear of discovery prevented his ghostly half from acting on that desire. — If it weren't for the missed lunch... — Danny said in a barely audible voice, covering his flaming face with his hands. His cheeks felt unbearably hot under his cold hands. — Even if you ate everything in the cafeteria, it wouldn't change anything, — Dash's voice was almost in his ear. The school quarterback leaned over his desk to talk to Fenton without the teacher hearing. ― What? ― the teenager whispered back. — Your girlfriend put the whole school on a forced diet, that's what. Come to the gym after school, and you'll see what I mean, — Baxter said seriously. Since the ghost remained silent, only begging for food, Danny decided that he wasn't in danger of a new and more brutal beating after school. At least not yet. — Mr. Baxter! Do you need special reprimand? — Lancer barked, turning away from the blackboard, where he was writing down what he considered to be important points from the Shakespeare play they were currently studying. — Sorry, Mr. Lancer, — Dash said. Danny noticing that the football player's cheeks were sunken and there were gray shadows under his blue eyes.

***

While the basketball players were warming up in the gym, the cheerleaders had already moved on to more complex elements of their standard routine. Danny enjoyed watching their performances, appreciating not only their acrobatics. However, the girls were a pitiful sight. Redhead Sophie, the second most important member of the team after Pauline (who had rightfully won the position of captain), was constantly tripping over her feet. After the warm-up, she turned pale and began to breathe through her mouth, emitting strange wheezing sounds that Ghost could hear even from a distance. Dark shadows appeared under her eyes, and her bloodless lips were no longer visible on her face. Despite the fact that she did not appear to have lost any weight, Sophie's appearance was quite sickly. The brunette, Catherine, kept pulling up her skirt. The belt was too loose. It seemed that she had suffered the most from the new diet, losing more weight than the others. Her figure had become more dry and angular. Although she tried to maintain her previous level of activity, it only served to further dehydrate her, gradually transforming her from a curvaceous cheerleader into an anorexic runway model, where every piece of clothing hung like a hanger. Blonde Alice tried to keep herself together and was one of those who could afford to make lunch in the morning. As far as Danny remembered, the farmer's daughter lived a decent distance from the city, and she seemed to cook not only for herself but also for some her teammates. Tucker mentioned that Alice was a kind-hearted person who shared her food with her friends, but this also affected her own nutrition. Her sunken cheeks and the signs of sleep deprivation on her face were a clear indication that she had been living in this mode for too long. And these were only the most exhausted of the girls. The cheerleader pyramid collapsed. The lower members were simply unable to support the weight of their teammates. — Oh, God! — Wes and the other basketball players rushed to help the girls, forgetting about their own warm-up. They were just as pitiful to look at. Danny was surprised by himself. Had he become so immersed in his family problems that he had stopped noticing even such significant changes in those around him? — Pitiful sight! — Miss Testlaff's booming voice echoed through the hall. — How are you going to perform at the Caper School Centennial Celebration with such poor preparation, you weaklings? — Don't you dare talk about my girls like that! — Polina, disheveled after falling from the top of the pyramid, looked more like an angry harpy. A very beautiful, angry harpy. — It's your fault too! You've deprived us of proper food and overloaded us with training. You're indulging that crazy goth girl and her mother like... ― Be careful with your language, Miss Sanchez. You're still too young to be so rude to adults. — But you let yourself bullying us for no reason, — said Pauline, throwing the pom-poms without looking, and Danny, sitting on the third bench of the stands, barely managed to dodge the rustling ball. — That's enough! — Testlaff shouted, silencing the entire room until the echo of her voice died away somewhere in the high ceiling. — Your new diet is not a problem. You are the one who is at fault, and if you wish to discuss this further, you should address Miss Innovation, not me. — We'll talk to her, and our parents will to you, Ms. Testlaff, — Polina said, pulling a rubber band off her wrist in a sudden gesture, hastily gathering her hair into a ponytail, and spinning on her heel so quickly that the ends of her hair whipped the teacher in the face. Surprisingly, the hot-tempered woman left the insult unanswered, allowing Sanchez to help her team get themselves together. Danny was processing what he'd heard with a sense of quiet unease. It was clear that Sam's stubbornness and radicalism were not going to lead to anything good. However, he had only a vague understanding of the extent of the problem until today. Deep down, he still held onto the hope that it would be limited to mere disagreements with fellow students. He believed that it would not have a significant impact on anyone. After all, it was just a school menu. — Your girlfriend, Fenton, has taken on too much, — Dash's voice was close by, making even Phantom rub his palms nervously on his jeans. They both knew all too well where this was going. — It's not my style to beat up girls, but I can't vouch for Pauline. Sanchez fussed around "her girls." She never liked people who weren't part of her group, she despised nerds, and she looked down on people like Sam and Tucker, and Danny was clearly the metaphorical ghost of school beauty. He was an insignificant person who didn't deserve her attention. Watching her help her team members up after a fall, inspecting their fresh cuts and bruises, and giving them instructions, Danny realized that there were at least a few people at this school who were worth ruining her manicure for. — Give me at least the rest of the week, — Fenton heard a slight otherworldly echo in his own voice. — I'll try to reason with Sam. ― To reason, — Dash mimicked with a chuckle. — I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything. As you can see, Pauline is ready to bite the heads off teachers, let alone your girlfriend. ― She's not my girlfriend, — Danny replied absently, staring at the athletes, who were plenty to knock a few teeth out of even someone like Dash Baxter.

***

At dinner, the Fenton's house was filled with nervous silence, broken only by the sound of chewing. Jess refused to eat, opting for tea and snacks, which she quickly took to her room, along with a stack of books and a new notebook still in its packaging. But Danny... Maddy watched with a sense of unease as her son devoured his roast with a voracious appetite, forgetting about table manners and etiquette. He shoved food into his mouth and swallowed it almost without chewing, licking his greasy fingers. Danny only paused to take a refill from the communal bowl or take a few sips of milk. Jack seemed unfazed by his son's behavior. He continued to stare at his plate, and Maddy felt a strange sensation in her throat. — Is everything all right, Danny? — she said, saying the first thing that came to mind. The teenager gnawed on a chicken bone, sucking the marrow out of it with the greed of a hungry animal. The sound made the woman's teeth ache. ― Yes, — the boy wiped his mouth with a paper towel. — Why do you ask? ― Um... ― Maddy looked down at her plate, not sure how to say what she had on her mind. ― I'm just wondering when you got so hungry. It's like they've canceled lunch at your school. — You could say that, — Danny answered, dropping the fragments of the empty pieces of bone on his plate, but he didn't look up to avoid his mother's gaze. — They've replaced the food at school with some kind of grass. Sam did her best. It's not like there's anything edible there, but I've been skipping lunch for the past month. I don't know why. Maddy bit her lip awkwardly, remembering the way her son had devoured Alice's treats with such voracious appetite. Setting down her fork and knife, the woman pushed her plate away, reached for a glass of warm water, and asked, warming her suddenly chilled hands on the glass: ― Why didn't you tell me earlier that you didn't have anything to eat at school? I could have made you a more substantial lunch in the morning. Or I could have talked to the school principal, after all. — I don't want to distract you with such nonsense, — Danny smiled, popping the remaining thin bone into his mouth, crunching it with a crunch, chewing it, and swallowing it. — I can handle this. It's just food. — We could help you, Danny. Right, Jack? — Her husband looked up from his plate and gave her a puzzled look. Maddy sighed. — If you don't want us to get involved in school matters, we could at least talk to the Manson family about their daughter's overzealousness. They're not the most pleasant people, but if it could help... — Don't worry, — Danny interrupted, waving his hands vigorously. — I'll handle my friend, I promise. — He paused for a moment, glancing at his parents. — I need your help with something else. A family history presentation. — This is a great opportunity to talk about the tradition of witch hunting, — Jack said enthusiastically. — Our family has been known for generations for its skills in hunting evil spirits. Take, for example... — Is there something more humane? —Danny interrupted his father. For a moment, Maddy thought she saw a greenish glint in his blue eyes. — Something that doesn't involve lynching of innocent people or the Inquisition?

***

— Once again, why can't we just confront Sam with the fact? — Tucker's voice was accompanied by the clicking of controller buttons in the background. It seemed like he was playing a bit of Halo before going to sleep. — It would be easier that way. Either she listens to others and makes concessions, or she gets picked on by Pauline and her friends after school. No one in their right mind would want to escalate things to a fight, even if they were confident they wouldn't get beaten up. Even Dash seems to have this understanding. ― I'm sure it will only provoke her more, ― Danny flopped down on the bed, out of habit, raising his feathers in the air. Upon closer inspection, a slight greenish otherworldly glow could be seen around them, but an ordinary person would most likely not have paid attention to this little thing. ― We've been in touch with her for a long time, and you should understand that yourself. It was the same with this gothic. She does everything in spite. Such a character. — She's a bit bitchy, if you ask me, — Tucker's voice was accompanied by the character's death theme. Tucker exhaled irritably into the phone and probably turned off the game. — I still say we should tell her the truth. She despises 'classicism and playing to the privileged minority,' but she's not doing much better herself. Let's put your pacifism on hold for a while and bring her back to reality. Before that, she'd only watched you get kicked by the school bullies, but now she has a real chance to experience it firsthand. Either we hurt her self-esteem, or someone hurts her face. You know what's really worse. Danny was silent, thinking about his answer. Leaning back on the pillows, he watched the feathers swirling in the air. He was communicating with Phantom in this way, listening to their shared feelings. And there was something that Danny couldn't help but agree with. ― Danny, are you still here? — Tucker called out. ― We can't break her completely, Tak. She knows, too. And she might break down and tell others if we hurt her too much. This time, Tucker was silent for a long time. — Do you remember how many times we fought, Danny? — His friend's voice sounded a little hoarse. — We would yell at each other. We even fought when Jin was possessed by me. But I didn't betray you, even though it would have been an easy way to keep my spirit strength. — It's you, Tak, — Danny chuckled. —We've known each other since kindergarten. ― Sam won't do that. I'm sure. Such tactics are beneath her gothic dignity. A cloud of steam escaped Fenton's lips. The connection became worse. The ghost turned around and looked out the window, more out of instinct than actually noticing anything in his peripheral vision. The familiar, shapeless green shadow was darting across the rooftops across the street. ― We'll talk tomorrow. There's a ghost on the neighbor's roof. — So you can go fight the evil spirits again without a thermos? — Tucker chuckled slightly, and it was very clear even through the static on the line. — Give me a couple of minutes, and I'll keep you company. Danny couldn't imagine not inviting Sam on an adventure. But at that moment, he didn't want anything but company of his best friend. Adults wouldn't understand the kids' arguments, and they probably wouldn't even get the point. And just having Sam around would weigh on his mind and conscience. Looking at his friend's avatar in the group chat, Danny could see the haggard and sickly faces of some of the cheerleaders.

***

The next day at school, Danny was almost asleep on his feet. The hungry Phantom inside was the only thing keeping him from falling into a small coma from exhaustion after the night's hunt. The cunning ghost had exhausted him even more than Tucker. In the morning, he barely noticed his breakfast, as small as it seemed. He ignored the teachers' comments and skipped most of the material they taught, eagerly glancing at the clock in anticipation of lunch. However, the grass on the sandwich instead of the ham and the unpleasant substance that resembled dirt in color completely destroyed the teenager's hope of getting some food. The Phantom had been burned to ashes a couple of days ago, and since then, a black hole had formed in his stomach. Despite this, the deceased was in no hurry to eat. Danny's hands were slightly numb, and his muscles refused to work properly, making it difficult for him to put anything in his mouth to satisfy his hunger. "Come on," he urged himself, forcing himself to pick up his cutlery. "You weren't so picky at Aunt Alice's. You didn't turn your nose up at vegetables." There was something wrong with this food, and the Ghost couldn't explain it to the living. — Try it, Danny, — Sam coaxed, carefully holding out a piece of grass sandwich on a fork. — It's real, organic, recycled. Everything living that could have been harmed has been removed from the food production and preparation cycle. No trace of any living creature, no violence against life. — No life, — Danny said, scooping up a spoonful of the unpleasant, mud-like substance. He sniffed it. Nothing. No smell, no feeling. — That's what he doesn't like. He forced himself to taste the food. It tasted exactly the same as it smelled. Nothing was absolute. He took a second spoonful, then a third... The plate was empty in an instant, but his hunger only grew stronger. The food fell into his stomach like an extraneous, foreign element, like paper or a handful of pebbles, but he wanted to believe that he could digest anything in that state. ― It's delicious, say! ― Sam seemed pleased with her friend's appetite. Danny hiccupped instead of answering. The ghost was nauseous. The last bite went down the wrong way and the boy coughed, trying to get rid of the lump of food in his throat. — Are you okay? — Tucker gently tapped him on the shoulder. — You look pale. The Phantom refused to eat. Absolutely. And the body made it clear. "Come on, it's food. And we're hungry!" But it was useless to try to persuade the dead part of himself. His head was spinning, his stomach was in painful spasms, and nausea was rising in his throat. His heightened sense of smell detected the smell of food. Normal food. Tucker had brought something with him so he wouldn't have to eat this organic slop. A steak. Some salami. Some melted cheese. Some breaded chicken legs. The smells made him feel even more nauseous. He could almost taste the flavors by licking the air. There was so much delicious food around him. So much skin, blood, and bones. The smell of white powder and dark skin was a scent he had never encountered before. Danny shook his head: ― Food doesn't smell like that. The sour taste of vomit abruptly appeared at the very base of the tongue. Danny took off and ran out of the dining room and into the courtyard. Away from people who might lose their appetites completely. — Bravo, Manson, — the clapping behind her made her turn around. Pauline was applauding sarcastically, her mouth twisted in a wry smile. — Even your boyfriend can't stand this garbage. — He's not my boyfriend, — Sam muttered darkly, staring at her plate. — Not anymore, that's for sure. And you don't have anyone to cover you, — Sanchez's voice was menacing. She wasn't mocking him like she usually did. — See you Friday, upstart.

***

The fresh air calmed his stomach a little, but he still vomited a couple of times. His tongue was bitter and disgusting, and the food he had just eaten seemed to have evaporated from his stomach. Danny leaned against the cold brick wall and slowly sank to the ground. He didn't get enough sleep. He's hungry. He's tired. There was a deafening emptiness in his head. Too much had happened in the last couple of days. And for the past month, he'd been slowly losing his strength, trying to separate his friends, reconcile his parents, and distract himself with spirit-catching and training, which could theoretically help him catch spirits more effectively. There was still a week to go, and with each passing day, the likelihood of Sam being beaten up increased. — Give me a break, for a while, — he breathed, looking up at the sky. The touch of warm fur on his hand made him shudder and return to reality. A white cat with expressive blue eyes was gently nuzzling his elbow with its high forehead. The small predator held a dying sparrow in its teeth. The bird was still occasionally twitching its clawed leg. Cat tightened its jaws around the bird's neck, cracking its vertebrae, and lowered it in front of the teenager, gently pushing corpse by paw towards him. — I'm being pitied by cat, — his tongue still tasted bitter. Danny ran his fingers through the cat's clean white fur a couple of times. — Because you look bad, — Tucker appeared with his lunch box in hand. — Will you accept her offering or chicken legs? — What about you? — Danny felt the cat purring softly against his slightly numb fingers. — I won't starve, don't worry, — Foley chuckled, shoving a lunch box into his friend's hands. The launch box was actually full of breaded chicken legs. Tucker's mother was an expert in cooking any type of meat, and in any quantity. At his friend's house, they always had delicious and plentiful meals. Danny sank his teeth into the juicy meat, giving the ghost what it craved—a piece of life, well-cooked in its own juices. — Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you, — Danny muttered, gnawing on the bone and cartilage. The cat, seeing that her offer no longer mattered, began to eat little bird on her own, starting with the head. The sharp crack of a chicken bone made Tucker grind his teeth. — That's even overkill by my standards, — it was unusual to watch Danny dog-like devour the bones, chewing them with the same ease with which their classmates crunched on chips after school. — You're clearly VERY hungry.

***

— Mr. Masters? — Vlad's personal driver's voice brought him out of a slight trance. The car was already parked in front of his laboratory's branch in the Park of Peace. — Is everything all right? Since arriving at this embodiment of the American dream, a he has been gnawed by a vile feeling from within, something that could turn into extra dirt in the near future. And after what he saw through the eyes of a cat behind the walls of Casper High, it helped to more accurately determine the source of this feeling. — It's all right, — Masters brushed an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder and added as he got out of the car, — Wait here. I hope the conversation doesn't take too long. An obscenely positive doctor was already standing at the front entrance, accompanied by his silent daughter with a giant scar that crossed her entire face. This was how he always greeted his employer: he breathed energy and life in such a way that even the air around him seemed electrified. Which, however, is not surprising, given the areas of his work. Masters personally appointed him manager of this branch, because unlike the toadstool from Chicago (missing according to official data), this man had many useful talents and the fact that his daughter is still breathing is a direct confirmation of his abilities. — Good afternoon, Mr. Masters, — the man greeted him with a broad smile. The girl nodded politely. She and her upbringing were a bit old-fashioned. — And to you, — Vlad replied curtly. — Let's skip the formalities. What did you want to show me? There was no need for him to rush. Half an hour wouldn't have made any difference in his life, but the rumbling of his teenage stomach was causing him to speed up. If he didn't get a hold of himself, he might give himself away, and that wasn't something he wanted to happen. The boy's father was obsessed with hunting ghosts, and Masters wasn't sure if he would let his own son be used for organ harvesting. He didn't want to put a valuable specimen in someone else's hands, even if it was a problematic specimen.