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He was usually invisible.
Invisibility was safe, and helped to avoid the awkward questions and guaranteed stares that were three parts horror and one part pity.
Sure, the issue of a discarded shirt and jeans suddenly appearing as they were dropped to the floor originally unsettled people, but they eventually got used to it. Just another unusual thing about that Fenton kid. In fact, the whole 'clothes suddenly appearing as an invisible Danny stripped' had become a bit of a joke whenever a new student joined their gym class; so far, only one newcomer hadn't completely freaked out.
Today invisibility wasn't an option.
Skulker had somehow gotten his hands on an old model of the Plasmius Maximus. The weapon had somehow miraculously survived the Fentons' destruction of Vlad's lab after the whole Disasteroid incident, but what surprised Danny the most was that Skulker actually had the patience to dig through the wreckage of Vlad's entire mansion to find this one overlooked contraption – constantly being beaten by the halfa must have provided more motivation than anybody anticipated.
Although he had still managed to beat Skulker with nothing but a thermos and the lipstick taser that his mother insisted he carry, Danny was completely powerless, and would remain so until late that night.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the locker room as though nothing had happened. Since ghost healing was also out of commission for the time being, Danny couldn't lift his right arm above his shoulder, his ankle was sprained and twinged painfully with every step, and he could feel a bruise blossoming across his abdomen. Still, he had been through worse, and wasn't about to let such minor injuries set him apart from the others. There were enough differences between the halfa and his classmates without things like this happening, prompting Danny to ignore his current inconveniences – nothing short of Tetslaff challenging him to a wrestling match could convince the kid to skip class right now. Not when he was still trying to convince everybody that he was still plain old Danny Fenton.
Sure invisibility might not be entirely normal, but it was better than the alternative. At least when Danny couldn't be seen, they wouldn't know exactly how damaged he was.
Heads turned his way at the ghost boy's pronounced limp. Ignore them, Danny told himself, chewing his lip nervously. Tucking himself into a corner of the room, he turned to face the wall and took a deep, calming breath. If he stood like this, then Danny could pretend that nothing existed but him and the wall. There was pretty much no risk of anybody engaging him in conversation since Tucker, as usual, had already changed; the geek was lightning fast, so as not to get jostled about by the jocks' antics.
Take all the time you need, Danny told himself, repeating this tidbit from Jazz over and over in his head.
He'd taken a lot of time already. Almost one whole year since Phantom had saved the world, and Danny still trembled at the sight of a crowded corridor. It was habit now to slink around corners and hide beneath the safety of invisibility. Everybody had wanted something from him all of a sudden, whether it was an autograph, or a date, or a sudden interest in being friends. Ever since he turned from ghost to human on worldwide television, Danny had been unable to breathe easily in public. He'd gone from being an invisible loser (only thrust into the spotlight when Jack managed to destroy something that people cared about) to instant celebrity status (but why did getting hurt day in and day out so that the bruises formed mottled layers and the scars didn't even have a chance to fade suddenly make the guy worthy of paparazzi and interviews with teen magazines and hordes of girls sobbing and screaming his name?).
Returning to school had been the hardest thing that Danny had ever done.
The entire student body had cheered when he walked through the doors on his first day back, for crying out loud. It was only after they noticed his constant discomfort several weeks later that the majority of them backed off, but Danny still caught people staring at him when they thought he wouldn't notice.
It was almost funny how differently they treated ghost-powered freak Danny Phantom in comparison to the social failure he had once been; in reality nothing had changed except the attitude of the populace, but what a drastic change it had turned out to be.
Once a freak, always a freak.
Danny hesitantly lifted the hem of his shirt, hissing as his injured shoulder throbbed. He kept his gaze steadily on the wall as the ruckus behind him dropped into silence.
Just like that, his careful efforts to be as normal as possible were dashed to pieces, and Danny wondered why he even bothered in the first place.
Swallowing thickly, the teen began to slowly count the seconds in his head. Escape looked very tempting right now, but by wedging himself in his corner, Danny had inadvertently placed himself across the room from the door. As appealing as that door was, Danny just couldn't make the trip back through the crowded locker room.
The brave Danny Phantom, victor over ghost kings and deadly asteroids, defeated by a simple room of high school boys.
He knew what they were staring at, since he avoided his own shirtless reflection as much as possible for the same reason — bruises mottled fair skin, reminders of violence that were usually wiped clean by supernatural healing within minutes. In addition, scars covered the majority of his body, roping thick and thin pretty much everywhere. They were clear marks, testament to withering flame, acidic ectoplasm, and gouging claws.
The shirt was difficult to get out of. Danny gritted his teeth, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to burn and the silence continued to stretch. His damned arm would barely move, and the fabric was somehow tangled around his body. The air and the quiet pressed in like a smothering quilt, and Danny's breathing caught as his mind threatened to shut down. Danny forced himself to focus on graffiti that Dash had scrawled into the wall the previous week, hating himself as tears threatened behind his eyelids. He would not have a panic attack, especially in front of the very people who he was trying to convince of his normalcy!
A nervous cough came from the person nearest him, and Danny felt a presence shift to stand behind him. "C'mon, guys, let's get moving. Y'know how Tetslaff gets if we take too long to change!"
The chatter started up again nervously, and Danny continued to battle with his shirt until the cursed garment finally slipped over his head.
Dash continued to shield him from the others until they had all left the locker room, and Danny finally felt like he could breathe again. It was okay now; the crowd was gone, leaving the halfa alone with this bully-turned-somewhat-friend.
"Thanks," Danny mumbled without turning around.
A heavy hand clapped his good shoulder in support. Then, without even looking at the ghost boy, Casper High's star quarterback strolled out the door.