Bumps and Bruises
An “Attack of the Killer Garage Sale” fanfiction
By Avearia
Jazz Fenton was very protective of her baby brother.
Maybe her parents failed to notice, but she didn’t. Ever since Danny started high school, he’d been accumulating some suspicious bruises.
Just small ones at first—tiny scrapes and bumps that could easily be explained away by his excessive clumsiness, which had increased since his near-death experience with the Fenton Portal. Jazz could not count the number of times she’d seen her brother fall out of his chair, or walk into a wall, or somehow trip while standing still.
But then one day he came home with a black eye. When Jazz asked what happened, he lied—he was a terrible liar—saying he’d simply fallen down. That was always the lie he used.
Jazz found out the truth not long after. She’d swung by the freshman hallway and saw Danny getting shoved into his locker, by none other than Casper High’s star quarterback, Dash Baxter.
Bullying. Jazz wasn’t new to the concept—several girls, students and adults alike, had picked on her while she grew up, thanks to her parentage. Her parents had told her to be strong and ignore their spiteful comments. She’d never had a problem with physical bullying, but she knew well enough that if she stepped in, the bullying might just get worse, not better.
She tried anyway, subtly. Jazz told her parents about the bullying, and the teachers. She talked to the school counselor, who assured her that a little roughness was typical for boys Danny’s age. Finally—and Jazz was rather proud of this tactic—she’d tricked Dash into inviting Danny to one of his famous mega-parties. She thought, if Dash could just be civil with Danny for a week, interact and get to know him, then maybe Dash would see his ‘favorite punching bag’ was actually very friendly and likable.
Danny never once complained about Dash, or any of the other jocks. In fact, the week he’d been invited to Dash’s party, Danny seemed eager whenever Dash was around. Maybe the counselor was right—maybe it was just a guy thing.
Either way, she’d done her part. Danny was a strong person, who always rebounded quickly, even after a near death experience. If he needed help, he would ask for it. Until then, she would just help tutor him through school, keep him away from their crazy parents’ inventions, and always be willing to listen to his problems. To be honest, she thought Danny had everything under control.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
It wasn’t quite dark, but a half moon rose high over her house. Jazz shuffled up her walkway, yawning as she went. She’d just put in overtime volunteer work at the hospital, and she was beat. Time to go inside, finish her homework, and then go to bed early.
When she reached her front door, she spied a bright yellow sticky note taped there. Jazz peeled it off, squinting at the message. “Gone ghost hunting! See you Friday.” Her mother’s handwriting scrawled across the paper.
Jazz scowled. Great, another of her parents’ last-minute ghost hunting escapades. She wondered which haunted house they were investigating this time. Why did her parents do this without warning her first? There wasn’t even an emergency contact number on the note. And Jazz knew her mother never carried a cell phone.
Jazz sighed in frustration. Now she’d have to clean up whatever ramshackle state her parents had left the house in, and order pizza for dinner. Danny was probably starving by now…
Annoyed, she twisted the doorknob hard and found it unlocked. How irresponsible—what if a burglar had snuck in? Jazz added that to her growing list of things to scold her parents for when they got back. “Danny?” she called, hanging her purse and keys on the pegs by the door.
There was a moan behind her, and Jazz jumped, suddenly wondering if someone had broken in to her house. Startled, Jazz spun to find Danny sprawled out on the nearby couch, eyes closed.
Jazz put a hand to her racing heart. “Geez, Danny, don’t scare me like that!” she said, coming closer. He didn’t respond. “What are you doing down here anyway, Danny? You’re never—”
The words died in her throat when she got a good look at him.
Danny’s arms were wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through in some places. One arm was wrapped wrist to elbow, while the other started mid-forearm and disappeared up under his shirt sleeves. His face and neck were mottled with bruises, and there was a rough cut on his cheek that he’d neglected to bandage. His knuckles were heavily bruised as well, and two fingers on his right hand were done up in splints.
Assorted medical equipment, no doubt stolen from Jazz’s room, lay strewn around him on the floor. He hadn’t cleaned up. It looked like he’d just barely bandaged himself up, then fell asleep on the couch.
Suddenly, Jazz couldn’t breathe.
As quickly as possible, Jazz pushed the iodine bottles and half-used rolls of bandages away, kneeling beside her brother. She tapped his shoulder lightly, afraid she might hurt him further.
“Danny? Danny are you ok?” she asked with a voice that shook.
His eyes seemed to flicker a little bit beneath his eyelids. “m’fine, Jazz,” he mumbled, still asleep.
Jazz pursed her lips. She volunteered in a hospital—those wounds looked bad. “How did this happen? Danny, you should’ve called me… you should’ve called the hospital…“
Sleepily, Danny shooed her off with his good hand. “m‘fine,” he muttered again. “Jus’… tired. Ah.” He flinched and touched his hand to his chest.
Hands shaking, Jazz reached forward and lifted up the end of Danny’s shirt. She peeked and saw a layer of bandages there, too, patched at his side. She gently covered it again. “Danny, what happened?” she pressed.
“Mmmm… I… fell,” he said, hesitating a bit.
Jazz’s skin turned stone-cold.
That was a flat-out lie. Jazz had heard it a hundred times before. He always used that lie whenever he was in a fight, or—
In a fight? Jazz paused, frowning. With care, she leaned inward to get a closer look at the bruises around Danny’s face and neck.
Turning just slightly, Jazz just barely spied a large bruise wrapping around her brother’s neck. She reached her hand out to hover over the bruise, like she was going to grab him there.
The bruise matched up perfectly with the shape of her hand. Jazz could easily see where his attacker’s palm, thumb, and fingers had rested across Danny’s pale skin.
Jazz snatched her hand away, feeling a chill go down her spine. “Danny, you’ve got a bruise…” she began.
He seemed to wake up a bit at that. “‘s fine, Jazz,” he drawled, “Jus’… bullies. ‘s… nothin’.“
Jazz swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say to that.
She didn’t need to say anything, she realized. Right now, she needed to call the hospital. He could have internal injuries, or a concussion… he needed medical attention right away!
Shakily, Jazz stood, eyes glued to her brother. “Okay, Danny, just… just stay here, I’m going to make a call, ok? Just relax, and… don’t move too much.”
He muttered something under his breath, and Jazz could tell he was already asleep. Slowly, she edged towards the kitchen, keeping her eyes on her brother as she moved away.
Once the kitchen door swung shut behind her, Jazz’s knees gave way, and she collapsed on the linoleum.
Danny hurt sometimes, but she’d never seen him so battered. Someone definitely attacked him… but who? And why would he refer to those severe injuries as ‘nothing’? No, he had to be protecting someone…
A picture of Dash flashed in Jazz’s head, and she froze. Bullies. That’s all Danny had said, but it was enough. She had a theory, and she didn’t like it. Only one bully really picked on Danny.
Jazz’s hands curled into fists. Dash. He’d gone too far this time. She’d thought Dash’s bullying was just simple rough-housing, but if he was capable of this…
She set her jaw in a stubborn line and stood, marching right over to the phone. She had a brother to protect, and she had to start acting like the responsible adult she was. She knew just what she had to do.
The phone rang in her ears before the other line picked up.
“Hello, 911, please state your emergency.” A cool voice said in her ear.
Jazz took a deep breath, ordering her thoughts. “Hi, yes, this is Jasmine Fenton. I’m calling from my house. My brother was just attacked by a local bully. He already put bandages on the wounds, but I think he still needs medical attention. Can you send an ambulance?”
“Of course, miss. Please stay on the line,” said the 911 operator.
Jazz’s eyes flickered over to the closed kitchen door, and she imagined her brother on the other side of it, lying in agony on the couch. She took another deep breath.
“Also,” said Jazz, “Can you send the police over? I’d like to press assault charges.”
“Of course miss. They should be at your house in a few minutes.”
Jazz smiled triumphantly. No one was going to hurt her baby brother ever again.
She’d make sure of that.
throughdannyphantom 