Probability
Danny Fenton shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He wasn't in the mood for math class – then again, was he ever? – especially not with Mr. Lancer as the teacher. Danny decided his droning monotone was better than a sleeping pill.
The topic was probability. Why did the topics seem to reincarnate every other year like this? He vaguely recalled learning about this two years ago – in eighth grade.
He glanced to his left. Samantha Manson, or just Sam, his best friend, was doodling something in her math notebook.
To his right, his other best friend Tucker Foley was apparently playing an RPG of some sort under the table on his PDA.
He decided he needed something to occupy him too. All around him, students chewed gum, scratched, yawned, drooled in slumber, swiveled around to chat, text-messaged with cell phones, and slyly listened to iPods beneath a sweatshirt hood. Mr. Lancer didn't seem to notice, and lectured on about dice and spinners.
His blue-eyed gaze traveled full circle around the room and came to rest on Sam, or rather, through her, just as he drifted off into daydream-land.
He was a ghost, with no legs: a ghostly vapor-tail streamed out from his waist on. He shot through the air above Amity Park, his city; feeling the wind on his face and the freedom of flight.
Familiar buildings passed below him.
It was that morning again, that glorious morn – Ember Day – where she had been with him, flying with him across the city with the sun on their faces. Her hand was on his waist, and his hand was on her waist, and it was the best Monday morning he'd ever had. Until they'd smacked into the giant billboard, of course.
But he cut that part out. Instead –
"Daniel Fenton!" roared a voice, now curiously far from a monotone. "Pay attention, if you will."
Danny blinked hard, remembering where he was. It didn't look like Sam had noticed he'd been boring holes through her with his eyes. Good. He scanned the rest of the room. They were still perusing their usual math class activities – why could he be left alone as well? It was as if Mr. Lancer had a special fury for just him.
"Give me a break, I'm the one who keeps your city free of ghosts every night…" he muttered darkly.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
He shifted again so it looked like he was facing front and center. Picking up his pencil, and his math notebook, he tried Sam's method and started to doodle.
Mr. Lancer glanced suspiciously at Sam, who was scribbling furiously, and then at Danny, frowning at the paper before him. He resumed talking, and began illustrating all the possibilities of rolling two dice on the board.
Danny stared at the teacher's face for a while when it was visible again. A square jaw…a bald, shining head…it was too easy to characterize that face. The tip of Danny's tongue poked out in concentration as he gave his little sketch a black goatee and little squinting eyes. A sharp nose and a nice helping of wrinkles completed the doodle. Danny grinned.
What next to draw? Everyone said girls were easier to draw. Lancer…as a woman?! Sure, he'd seen his sister in a picture once, but – that was hideous. He mentally scrapped the idea.
Though Danny was proud of his Lancer drawing, he decided to try his hand at a girl. He glanced around. All he could see of Paulina was a wave of shiny black hair. Valerie had her face in her hands on her desk, and Star had her nose buried in a book. It looked like a romance novel.
Again, his gaze saw no one worthy of his new doodle – except Sam, next to him. She was the perfect subject: her hair fell so it halfway covered her cheek, and her deep purple eyes were concentrated on her notebook. Profiles were easier to draw anyway, with only one eye to perfect, so he wouldn't have to worry about symmetry.
He began with bold strokes, giving her a soft line for the bottom of her chin, then sketched in forehead, nose, and lips. The curve of her head would be covered with that glossy black hair. He gave her thoughtful eyes, cast downward, and her bangs would fall just so…
A jagged pencil mark skidded down the page as Mr. Lancer pulled his notebook away from him.
"Ahh…" Danny started, and watched hopelessly as Lancer inspected his handiwork. Why had he started drawing Sam? This was going to be so embarrassing. He prayed that the teacher wouldn't say anything like that.
"What have we here?" Mr. Lancer questioned in a new tone of voice.
Suddenly, the whole class was awake and alert.
Danny hid his face in his hands. Sam looked up at Lancer, then down at Danny, and stared at the notebook like the rest of the class.
"Ahh…" Lancer said, hugging the notebook to his chest and raising his eyes to the ceiling. "I remember when I was young and in love…" he said in a high voice.
Sam finally caught Danny's eye and cast him a calculating look, as if to say, why is he saying that with your notebook in his hands?
"Ew," said half the class, picturing their overweight teacher young – and in love! But some began to make teasing noises. "Ha! Fenturd's in love?" "Oh, Fent-Romeo!" "Loser love! Gross!"
Feeling trapped, Danny tried to keep his face blank and offer Sam a surprised look instead, but failed.
"People…" Lancer began warningly, his voice back to his normal threatening tone.
Instead of further speech, he sighed, slapped the notebook down on Danny's desk, and returned to the blackboard.
Sam saw her chance. "Danny," she whispered, "can I see?" She pointed to his notebook. A now-disillusioned Danny considered this. It was a good sketch in his eyes, for a first try at Sam. But would she get the wrong idea? That he supposedly liked her? Did he want her to get that…idea? Was the idea actually wrong anymore?
Slowly, he handed it over, before he let his perception of the doodle disintegrate into a mess of pencil scratches, with a hurried and muttered explanation. "I was bored, and I saw you were drawing, so I decided to try that and…you were the closest thing!"
He turned away and tensed with self-consciousness; he imagined her examining every detail of it, critiquing without mercy…
…or, smiling? That was the expression on Sam's face he was greeted with when he finally dared to turn around again.
"Danny, this is amazing!" she complimented, her eyes bright.
"First try…" he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. Sam smiled at him.
Without a word, she turned her notebook over to him.
Danny suppressed a gasp. Just as he'd drawn Sam in his notebook, so Sam had drawn Danny in hers. It was detailed, meticulous, and almost life-like in accuracy: the result of years of practice during every math class since 6th grade. He wondered how Sam actually could pass this class, then remembered her natural understanding for math. Tucker had it too.
"You were the closest thing too," she said lightly.
Danny was tongue-tied, so he gave her a wondering smile instead.
At that moment, Mr. Lancer chose to interrupt. "You two, stand up. Give me your notebooks." He accepted the unwilling offerings and started to smile as he saw the two drawings. "Look at this, class," the grinning teacher said, displaying them for all to see, holding up Danny's sketch first: "What is the probability of Danny not being in love with Sam?"
A pause, scattered giggles, and a shout of "ZERO!"
Danny bowed his head, his face flushing.
He held up Sam's sketch now. "And what is the probability of Sam not being in love with Danny?"
More laughter and smirks. "ZERO!" More voices chimed in.
Sam stole a look at Danny and tried not to smile.
"Very good, people," said Lancer as he shot the wordless couple a smirk. To Danny's left, Tucker was convulsing in silent laughter and having a coughing fit at the same time.
"What is the relative frequency of the event that Danny and Sam are not seen together?"
"ZERO!" the class cheered. Laughter and hooting.
"Very good, people! I'm glad you've learned the meaning of relative frequency and event in math language, thanks to our resident lovebirds here!" Mr. Lancer grinned at them both, a slow, sure smile. "I hope that teaches you two to pay attention and not draw incriminating things in your notebooks." He returned their notebooks. "Class is out, I will see you Monday," he said aloud to the whole class.
The class packed up and left as one in a steady stream out the door. Only Danny and Sam were left behind, still standing awkwardly, bags unpacked. Slowly, they finished the process. Danny straightened up, backpack in hand.
"Sam, I—"
"Say no more." Sam dropped her backpack and wrapped her arms around Danny. Danny did likewise, and they hugged each other warmly for nearly half a minute, each savoring the other's feel.
Danny broke the hug first, leaving an arm about Sam's waist. "It's true, we're always together," he commented shyly.
As he started to pull away, Sam took his hand and squeezed it. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"Not at all," Danny replied with a low chuckle, staying close.
They left the classroom hand-in-hand with identical silly smiles on their faces.
Mr. Lancer was left alone in his dreary classroom. "What talent!" he shook his head disbelievingly."And what love! This one will last. I can feel it in my old bones."
He got up for more coffee. "I should do that more often."