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Phineas was having the worst day ever. For someone known as Danville’s eternal fount of optimist, this was saying something. First, he had spent the morning sludging his way to school in the pouring rain, having forgotten all of his more inventive transportation methods in his haste. Then, he was greeted with a pop quiz in math. It wasn’t hard, but the anxious feeling of seeing the quiz land on his desk hadn’t left his stomach. Next, he spent lunch at the end of his table of friends, looking up occasionally, but only catching snippets of their conversation over the roar of the other students. They usually sat on the patio outside, which made for a much quieter environment, but the rain had shoved the group inside with the rest of the school. Instead of soft clouds and spring winds, he was stifled by neon walls and the smell of cafeteria French fries. The worst was yet to come, though. Physics class. Normally he loved the subject, but having been momentarily distracted by a conversation two of his classmates were having, his finger slipped and the wire fuser caught the back of his hand.
Mrs. Davis sent him up to the nurse, even after he insisted he could heal it at home later. She was a nice woman, really, but the nervous look in her eye every time he and Ferb showed up to class with a gerbil translator or fusion powered cuckoo clock made him distinctly aware of something he’d slowly been clueing into for a couple of years now. Adults did not trust things they didn’t understand. Including the self-healing bandaids currently stuffed into his desk at home.
So, instead of avoiding touching the back of his hand and then curing his predicament in milliseconds when he got home, Phineas got to endure the nurse’s poking and prodding as she disinfected and treated the wound, placing a scratchy gauze over it.
Phineas scowled as he walked back to class, cursing his luck that he had lent out the last of his bandaids to Irving only yesterday. Today just wasn’t his day.
“Phineas.”
Every bad feeling, every concern, every annoyance seemed to slip out of his mind, tumble out and drop to the linoleum floor. He looked up and saw Isabella, her face screwed up in concern.
“Hey, Isabella.”
She was holding a set of posters, and from the look of it, had been hanging them up when he turned the corner. “Join the Chihuahua Appreciation Club!” was scrawled across the top, accompanied by an adorable sketch of an excited looking Pinky.
Phineas smiled down at them. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” He told her, pointing at the poster.
Isabella shrugged. “You know I can’t back down from a bet with Buford. He’d never let me live it down.”
Isabella and Buford had kiddingly jested one day about whose pet was more beloved in the school. Personally, Phineas thought Perry took the prize, but after Buford had suggested making fan clubs for Biff and Pinky to test who could get more members, Phineas decided to keep quiet and avoid getting into the competition.
“Buford’s been trying to force a button on me all week.” Phineas told her, chuckling. “You haven’t tried to recruit me though.”
Isabella shrugged again. “Figured you’d be team Perry.”
He didn’t know how she could read him so easily, but it was comforting to have someone who knew him so well. Everything about him, that is, but one crucial fact.
He wondered whether she could see through him now, through the smile he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew she saw something when he first approached but hoped he managed to grin, to laugh about the posters soon enough that she would just let it go. He didn’t want to worry her.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
Well, so much for that plan.
Phineas looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Just had a bad day.” He told her. And it’s because of you.
It was beyond unfair, he knew that. And she absolutely hadn’t meant it. But he’d had a bad day, inadvertently, because of Isabella.
After waiting far too long to see if her pink raincoat would pop out of the Garcia-Shapiro household across the street, he had finally gotten the nerve up to text and ask where she was. She’d had an early meeting though, had forgotten to tell him, and was already in the dry and safe confines of classroom 233. He, on the other hand, had waited too long and was going to be late if he didn’t run to school. He managed to skid and sprint his way into his first period. Ferb, bless him, calmly walked at a quick pace and didn’t mention Phineas’ foul mood or blame his brother for their misfortune. The only comment he made was to say that maybe Phineas should try texting a little earlier next time.
Phineas spent all of his first period math class trying to snap out of his bad mood, forgoing the lesson in favor of designing plans for a Tidal Swing, a swing whose movements emulated current tide conditions from different famous beaches. Phineas wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he’d become obsessed with the concept after Isabella had suggested a moon themed amusement park as their next Big Idea. The swing could fit two people and was self-powered, and he was hoping to use the combination in his favor. His reveries of sharing laughs and bumping shoulders with his crush, however, were crushed when a quiz was passed back to him and his stomach dropped as he tried to remember what class he was in. The quiz was over and turned in, but the anxiety stayed.
And then lunch happened. Although Isabella was in a bunch of his classes, Phineas hadn’t been able to get her alone for even a second, and he put all his hopes into lunch. He really wanted to show her those plans. But, instead of spending a blissful half hour sharing blueprints and schematics, the rain had sequestered their group to a random table inside, effectively shuffling up their usual seating order. He’d ran in late to the cafeteria and Isabella was surrounded by Buford, Ginger and Gretchen.
Phineas resigned himself to the end of the table, where Ferb had saved him a seat and some lunch. He tried to make polite conversation with Django about some famous artist coming into town, but his eyes kept darting back to Isabella. Ferb was shoving more and more French fries onto his plate and Phineas ate them absentmindedly. His only comfort was seeing Isabella occasionally look over and offer him a soft smile. He knew she may not like him the way he liked her, but they were still best friends. She’d rather be on this side of the table, correcting blueprints, than running lines with Buford for his Shakespeare scene.
The words though, the absolute worst was Physics. While trying to finish the lab, he’d overheard Milly and Irving talking about Isabella’s secret crush. His friends tried to pretend that she didn’t have one, and he knew he was oblivious, but he wasn’t that dense. Too many times he’d walked into rooms and been met with sudden silence, or worse, looks of pity towards him or Isabella.
No, it meant they knew about his crush on her. And they knew about her crush on someone else.
Phineas was sure this secret person was the reason Milly and Irving had been whispering all through Physics, shooting him furtive glances. He tried to look nonplussed, all the while craning his neck to hear as much as he could, and in the process, managed to make an impressive burn on the back of his hand.
So, of course, after all of this, he would walk out into the hallway and see the love of his love casually hanging posters as if there was nothing more pressing than a Chihuahua Appreciation Club.
And of course, now, she was staring at him with a fixed gaze that cut him to the core.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Isabella asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Well, I had a bad day because I didn’t realize someone could actually be physically lovesick until I realized I was in love with you. Phineas thought to himself.
Instead of of saying that though, he held up his bandaged hand.
“Burned myself.” He told her.
Isabella’s eyes widened and she rushed forward. He could see her Fireside Girl mode coming out as she gingerly took his wrist and started inspecting the nurse’s work. He tried to ignore the tingly sensation that was running up and down his arm.
“This isn’t even how you treat a burn. Why didn’t you put one of your bandaids on it?” She asked.
It was his turn to shrug. “Lent the last one I had to Irving yesterday and I forgot to stock up.”
“Phineas, you have a teleporter on your phone, you could pop back home now and grab one.” She said, still softly touching the edges of the bandages, slowly pealing them off.
“I can’t.”
Phineas flinched as the last layer was lifted. Isabella didn’t say anything, but she continued to stroke this hand as if she could will the wound to heal itself.
“You can’t?” She asked.
“Teleport.” He said, swallowing hard. “Not allowed to if I’m going to and from school. House rules.”
His parents weren’t particularly strict, but after finding out just how often he and Ferb had been popping back home to grab a snack or some forgotten homework during the day, they had instilled a “no teleporting to and from school” rule. Hence why he had to track puddles into his first period class this morning.
“Your parents wouldn’t mind for something like this.” Isabella said, looking up at him.
His brain absolutely short circuited as her face turned towards his and he hoped his silence seemed more resigned than panicked.
“I have an idea.” Isabella said, and before he could react, before he could think of anything other than the smell of her shampoo, she was pulling him down the hallway and into a supply closet.
The last of his brain cells left his body as he held his hurt hand between them, trying to ignore how they were pressed together in this very small space. Phineas saw a red glow spread across her cheeks as she took out her phone and started typing, and he was thankful that the phone light didn’t reach his own face.
She grabbed his shoulder tightly and grinned up at him.
“Go to: Phineas’ bedroom.”
Forget brain cells, he didn’t even have a brain.
The familiar feeling of teleporting washed over Phineas and he winced a bit as it dematerialized and rematerialized his hand. He blinked and when he opened his eyes he was home, standing at the center of his bedroom, with Isabella still clutching his shoulder.
He was home. In his bedroom. With Isabella.
He took a step back, as if his thoughts alone were enough to incriminate him.
Phineas could hear his parents’ muffled voices from downstairs.
He turned to Isabella and whispered, “The shop is closed on Mondays.”
She nodded and whispered back, “We’ll be quiet. And quick.”
How she knew the bandaids were in his desk, he couldn’t say, but she carefully stepped over there and pulled open the drawer, taking out a small aluminum container.
“Does this have the big ones too?” She asked, popping off the lid and looking inside.
“Yeah.” He answered, still listening for footsteps on the staircase.
“Alright, time to—“ Isabella stopped all of a sudden, looking at his desk.
Phineas followed her gaze to the frame on his desk. It was her yearbook picture. He felt himself blush scarlet.
“You framed it.” She said simply.
“Yeah.” He answered.
“Where are the others?” She asked, glancing around the room.
“What?”
“The other pictures. Of our friends. Where are their pictures?”
Their other friends? Surely she knew he didn’t have a mosaic of yearbook pictures in his room. He loved his friends, but that would a little weird. Instead of saying this, though, he pointed to another frame with a group shot. It was a picture from two years ago, taken right after a trip to the moon for more ice cream. They were all smiling and waving at the camera, still clad in their astronaut suits.
He didn’t know what to expect from this, he had no idea what was happening. And he certainly didn’t understand why Isabella whispered “group picture” under her breath and then beamed at him.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t know.
If she liked them so much, Phineas was willing plaster the walls with group pictures to keep her smiling like that.
Their moment, though, was suddenly interrupt by some shuffling right outside of his door. Instinctively, he grabbed Isabella and pulled her close. Her head was hovering right over his chest and he heard her whisper, “Go to: Danville High Supply Closet 54.”
The tingly sensation took over and in another second, they were back.
As sad as he was to return to reality, Phineas thought about how bad it would have looked to get caught in his bedroom in the middle of the day with Isabella. Although, come to think of it, being shoved in a supply closet with her in the middle of class probably didn’t look much better.
She shuffled by him towards the door and he tried to hold onto the feeling of having her so close to him, suppressing the urge to pass a hand through her hair. Isabella peaked out of the door and then swung it open, letting the fluorescent lights flood into the closet.
She took his unhurt hand and pulled him out into the hallway. Still clutching the little bandaid box, she got to work on his burn.
Isabella seemed to be taking a much longer time than necessary, taking great care in unwrapping a large bandage and pressing down the sides, finally stroking the top three times to activate it. Warmth spread across his whole hand and he sighed in relief.
“Thank you.” He said, closing his hand into a wrist and the opening it up, testing out how it was feeling.
“You’re so lawful.” She said, giggling.
“What do you mean?” He asked. He knew he should probably get to class soon, but standing in the hallway seemed much more important than academics.
“You bend the rules, but you won’t break them. At least not willingly.”
He shrugged. He’d promised and he wasn’t one for breaking promises.
She handed him the little container and picked up the posters from the edge of the hallway where she’d left them.
“You going back to class?” She asked, but it sounded like more of a statement than a question.
He wanted to offer to help her put up the posters, but refrained. If Mrs. Davis came out for any reason he’d get rightfully scolded.
“Yeah. Thanks. Really. You saved me a world of pain.”
She smiled and then turned back to the wall. There was something in her motions, though, that didn’t seem as natural as usual. Her fingers slipped as she taped up the sides of the poster.
“I’ll see you after school?” He asked.
“Of course.” She answered. Again, there was something in her voice that didn’t seem natural. But she didn’t back around and he took it as his cue to leave.
He walked back to class a bit dazed, playing his favorite moments from the past five minutes in his head as if his life was a clip show. Ferb looked up when he came in, nodding at the bandaid on his hand.
“Glad you grabbed one.” He said. “I was worried you wouldn’t remember my combination.”
“What?” Phineas asked, but then it hit him. He really didn’t have any brain cells. Ferb had a whole set of bandaids in his locker. In fact, his entire friend group walked around with bundles of them. But in his bad mood, he hadn’t even considered simply asking one of them. Come to think of it, he was surprised Isabella hadn’t had a bandaid on her either. She must have run out, like him.
He looked over at Milly and Irving, whose conversation had moved on to some Space Adventure action figures that had just gone on sale. He touched his bandage, smiling to himself. Isabella may have a crush on some mystery person, but she hadn’t just teleported with them, had she?
Even when feeling insecure, Phineas could be secure that Isabella was there for him. She was always there for him. It was one of the reasons he loved her so much. He could count of her through thick and thin. She was always there to bend the rules with him. Him.
The bell rang and Phineas was still thinking of the girl across the street as he shoved his stuff into his bag and bolted out the door. Ferb, without looking like he was rushing whatsoever, managed to keep up Phineas’ pace, quite as ever.
Phineas grinned when he saw her. Isabella was already at her locker, talking to Adyson. She sighed a bit and then took out a bandaid from a flowery aluminum container, handing it to her grateful friend. He understood what was happening this time. Most of it, that is. Adyson was their number recipient of bandaids due to her reckless disregard for life and limb, and was constantly asking around for the bandaids. That he understood. No, what Phineas didn’t understand was why Isabella had just teleported with him to his bedroom when she apparently had the bandaids on her the entire time.
Isabella put the box back in her bag and turned towards her locker, shutting it. Phineas came up from behind , calling out “Hey” and causing the love of his life to jump up a foot in the air and clutch her heart.
Smooth, he thought to himself, cursing his inability to be debonair for even a second.
She smiled at him regardless and then her eyes narrowed on Ferb.
“Ferb, can I show you the posters? I need your keen eye to help me come up with ideas for the second design.”
Ferb, rather reluctantly, followed her to the other side of the hallway. Phineas looked at their retreating backs but then tuned to his own locker. Ferb had received several graphic design awards in recent years, so people asking for his visual expertise was nothing new.
Phineas listened to Buford describe how the Shakespeare scene went, and although he was pretty sure his friend was lying about using the auditorium’s fly system for a class presentation, he still chuckled at the descriptions. Phineas made a mental note for him and Ferb to design personal flying devices that would allow the actors to swim in the air without worrying about tangled wires.
He closed up his locker and walked toward his best friend and his brother. Isabella looked worried as she talked, and they weren’t even facing the poster anymore.
“It doesn’t mean anything, I know. And I know I told you to stop telling me about these kinds of things, but…”
Ferb only looked at her.
“I am though, I am over it. This is just the kind of thing I would have liked a heads up about. But no, it’s probably better that I don’t get my hopes up.”
“Whatcha talking about?” Phineas asked, trying to get a smile from Isabella. From their reactions, though, he really had not read the mood correctly. Isabella squeaked, eyes widening at the sight of him. Ferb, usually composed, looked distinctly annoyed. Then, both gave him that same plaintive, pitiful look the entire group had been shooting him for months now. Maybe even years.
“Oh.” Phineas said, understanding. Her crush. She must have been talking about her crush.
“Buford hired out the blimp for his club.” Ferb provided, and Isabella hurriedly nodded at the excuse. “And Isabella was a bit upset that he got to it first.”
“We’ll build you another blimp., an even better one.” Phineas told her and Ferb rolled his eyes.
Phineas unconsciously played with the top of his bandage, trying to figure out if they were lying or not. Isabella was really competitive, it was believable that she could be upset about Buford getting a leg up on their bet.
“Thanks, Phineas, but you don’t have to. I’ll borrow the fleet of buses, though, if they’re available.”
“Absolutely. Oh, and we can revamp them a bit, redo the design, maybe even more cup holders!”
Phineas prattled on about seat warmers and gourmet soda machines as they walked home together, and Isabella’s mood seemed to improve with every step.
Phineas supposed she really had been upset about the competition, if she could be feeling better so quickly. But even if that wasn’t it, It didn’t matter. She was here. She was happy. And he could wait. She was worth the wait, and he was going to be here to support her no matter what and he had to trust that maybe, just maybe, being here for her would be enough one day.
Ferb gave them a bit of space as they talked, watching his brother’s and friend’s silhouettes walking down the road. The two turned to the Flynn-Fletcher household instinctively, and Ferb sighed. Isabella could claim she’d gotten over Phineas all she wanted but people without crushes didn’t shove into supply closets together for no reason.
Isabella and Phineas sat down at the trunk of their familiar tree, still chatting. Ferb liked to stay out of things as much as possible, but he hoped Phineas would clue in soon. He was sure his brother was in love with the girl, but Phineas was so oblivious that he figured the young inventor just hadn’t figured it out yet. They sat so close to each other, though, talked with such bubbling enthusiasm that he wondered if Phineas was clueing in, little by little.
Phineas, on the other hand, was feeling like today was the best day ever. Isabella had taken an impromptu adventure with him, just cause she wanted to. She was always going to help him, he knew that, but she had chosen to teleport, to grab the bandage, and he had a feeling it was because she had sensed his bad mood and knew Phineas liked nothing more than convoluted solutions to simple problems. It was enough.
Our third character was feeling just as radiant, but for entirely different reasons. No, Isabella was not thinking the day had been enough just yet. She was trying to think of an excuse to go up and see her picture on his desk again, to make sure she hadn’t dreamt it. And if it meant shoving herself into another supply closet with the love of her life again, so be it. She just loved having him there, having their little adventures together. She would always be there for him. To be honest, no matter how much time they spent together, she could never get enough of him.
All in all, not a bad day.