SEPTEMBER 23rd, 2004.
Daniel James Fenton dreamed of starlight. He often did, unintentionally; patterns of flame upon the surface of suns, swirling galaxies, the recent discovery of a planet made entirely of pure diamond, floating nebulae. He was fascinated by outer space and had every intent to be in NASA one day. His mom and dad didn't joke when they said he ought to earn the best grades he could in school if that was what he truly wanted. It was difficult sometimes when he was younger because of all the distractions which came with being a kid, he didn't know how his elder sister had managed to enter the advanced classes she did when a little girl.
It wasn't a foreign temptation to him to shove his work to the side, lay down, and snooze the evening away, but the driving motivation to become an astronaut brought him back to his pencil and paper every time. It helped that he was a member of a family of geniuses. His parents were independent inventors, contractors and consultants, while his sibling Jasmine reached high honor roll her freshman year of high school and scored the highest consistent test results in their district's history. Danny felt a bit small in comparison when he thought about it.
Awakening, he stared up at his bedroom ceiling blearily, processing the new morning slowly. It was his birthday. He had been born at three o'clock a.m., it was six a.m. now. He was officially fourteen, no longer an awkward preteen. Pulling an arm from beneath his blanket, he observed that it was still thin. He hadn't grown to traditional adolescent, lanky proportions overnight. He didn't know what he'd expected. He was the same person he was before, just technically older.
Oh, well. It would be a long period till he could say he knew what it was like to wait in line for an amusement park ride and not be turned away because of his height, or lack thereof. His thick black hair was tousled due to subconscious tossing and turning. Glancing at his window, he saw a brightening sky. Yawning, Danny got to his bare feet, moving straight for his closet. A great chunk of his wardrobe were t-shirts and blue jeans, he picked out a nondescript gray shirt and one of the many jeans to wear. He had only two sets of shoes, sneakers normally and a black pair for formal occasions. A dark suit hung untouched behind everything else.
Having gathered clothing to change into he took a shower, relieved that for once Jasmine wasn't hogging the bathroom. Quickly lathering his hair in shampoo he wondered what today would bring. It seemed immature to be too excited, or ask for presents. He didn't have a cake last September. He finished his washing, drying. He ought to act as if he hardly noticed. Honestly, he wished to at least go to a restaurant. Maybe it was selfish to. He shrugged at his reflection in the mirror. Wouldn't know unless he talked to his parents. They were likely to be awake, busy as they were.
Dressed, he walked back to his room and yanked sneakers on, tying the shoelaces. He left the door open. It was then, crouched on a knee, his nose caught a strange scent. It took a moment to recognize it: smoke. There was smoke in the house. Had anyone noticed besides him? Obviously if they had it wasn't a huge deal. He decided to play it safe. Grabbing his backpack which he'd organized before going to bed, it crossed his mind that his sister was probably already gone, he didn't bother checking.
Danny trekked down the staircase and through the living room to the kitchen. He immediately caught sight of his parents sitting tiredly at the dining table, both of them had their fingers wrapped around coffee mugs. His dad Jack grinned at him, exhaustion lining his face, his mom Maddie merely smiled. Jack was a gargantuan man, above six feet and wide in shoulder width. At forty, he was packing on some pounds. It was easy to tell he didn't let it get to him. Sheer black hair like Danny's own, peppered with silver framed expressive gray-blue eyes. Danny's eyes were a much bluer shade.
Maddie was the same age as Jack as well as his complete opposite, not tiny compared to other women though smaller than her husband. Compared to him she might seem delicate but by herself she was sturdy. Auburn cheek-length straight locks emphasized the purple of her irises. She was in good shape, a recognized martial artist. Ninth degree aikidōka. Danny could barely kick the air without falling all over himself.
"Hey," Danny ventured, "What's up?"
Maddie responded first, "Nothing much," she looked at Jack. He raised his broad eyebrows, there was a pause. Her mouth quirked. They burst out laughing. Danny blinked, taken aback. It was going to be a weird Wednesday, evidently. It was light and cheerful, he couldn't find it in him to complain. "If you've noticed the smoke smell, it's coming from the lab. Just to get some air flowing through, don't worry about it," she added. That answered his unspoken question. He had a hunch what caused the smoke. For the past twenty years his parents had been concentrating on a single huge project.
They'd spent a lot of money installing it from scratch. The Fenton home wasn't like other abodes. For one, it had a title, emblazoned on a neon light sign out front; FentonWorks. For two, it had an ops center on the roof. Its basement was not a place for storing junk but a laboratory. A big workspace, Danny and Jasmine saw it tons of times growing up, through a glass observation room. Steps leading underground stopped at a wall of glass separating whoever didn't have a key card to activate the sliding door. Neither Danny nor Jasmine had ever physically been inside the lab. The entrance to the lab was in the kitchen, actually, he could see it where he was. It was left ajar.
The closer he peered at it the more obvious the billows of near transparent smoke tumbling out became. The thing Jack and Maddie worked on predominantly was the Fenton Portal. The Portal was intended to rip a hole into another world, basically. Danny had it explained to him enough times to be able to describe it even if he didn't know precisely what the different terminology meant. His parents were ectologists. He almost thought 'studiers of ectoplasm,' but that wasn't right. The research of ectoplasm was ectoplasmology.
His parents' studying centered around the theory that when a person died and they were aware that they were dying, the last strong emotions created in their brains were powerful enough to make a psychic imprint in a parallel dimension, which would take the form of ectoplasm and become 'ecto-entities.' In other words, ghosts. Specters. Remnants of the living. Impressions on ambient ectoplasm floating in who knew where. Well, if the Fenton Portal operated the way it was supposed to, Maddie and Jack would know.
Think of the 'ghost world' as a sheet of wax and Earth as a thin sheet of, say, rubber, with glad wrap between them representing the border. Push down on the human side, and a dent would be left in the wax, with no sign on the rubber once the force was removed. Danny was repeating what he'd heard, of course. He was more of an astrologist than...whatever his parents were.
"Uh, I think the smoke's getting thicker, maybe?" Danny pointed out, jerking his chin at the lab door. They didn't seem to believe him but then Maddie appeared suddenly alarmed, Jack's eyes narrowed in response. Danny wasn't incorrect. They stood, chairs creaking, Maddie looked at her son sidelong.
"We'll take care of it, and after school we'll go out to for dinner for your birthday," she said.
Danny brightened. He was closer to his mom than his dad. She always knew what he was thinking, "Okay. Have fun," he gave a single wave, turning and leaving the kitchen. He had a bus to catch.
The school was walking distance if Danny felt like getting the exercise, which was never. FentonWorks was on Gaste Street, he only needed to travel a little ways before coming upon the bus awaiting him. He hadn't missed it so far and he didn't plan on it. His long time best friend Tucker Foley rode the same bus. As Danny entered the school bus he spotted Tucker at once, an empty seat beside him. Most likely Tucker saved it. He moved to sit there and wasn't surprised by the lingering gazes he received. Most of the kids on the bus, in the school overall, he'd known since elementary, maybe kindergarten. Tucker he'd met in preschool. Everyone knew everyone in Casper High.
It was pretty quiet in the vehicle, anybody talking was hushed and low. No one wanted loudness after getting out of bed less than half an hour ago. He and Tucker were comfortable with each other and knew one another like the backs of their hands. Tucker said nothing and neither did Danny. It wasn't necessary. Danny was, by the calendar, older than his friend, so Tuck' was still thirteen. For a few more months, anyway. It didn't make a difference. Tucker usually wore a red beret, when he was a boy playing hide and seek with Danny he was obsessed with hats. Apparently that habit carried over to high school. They bonded, if their parents' stories were to be believed, through their shared fixation on video games. Play dates were arranged subsequently.
Tucker was an African American, green-eyed, black hair shortly sheared. He was what teenagers referred to as a technogeek. He was a whiz with technology and gadgets, his parents had careers which they used to support his engineering interests as well as buy him as many PDAs as he thought he needed to survive his life, as he liked to claim. He gave the PDAs their own individual (female) names. PDAs were palmtop computers which functioned as personal organizers, providing access to the Internet and thus e-mail.
Tucker was a go-with-the-flow kind of dude. He made jokes, his sense of humor was sharper and more creative than Danny's, who liked puns, but he was lazy. Oh, and he liked to knit, though he'd never forgive Danny if he told anyone. The bus stopped directly in front of the school. Unloading it was a habitual affair, nobody fought like they did in middle school. That would be just embarrassing. Row after row followed the one before them, Danny and Tucker were among the sixth. On the sidewalk Danny shivered slightly at the chilly breeze, wishing he'd brought a jacket.
Approaching the front doors of Casper High, Danny took in the white building. It was two stories, fairly small, at least compared to the huge high schools he saw on live action TV shows. It wasn't fancy, rather homely. If the photos on the light green walls were anything to go by it was built when films were monochrome. Inside it was warmer and Danny was appreciative of that.
He and Tucker parted to find their lockers, it was five days since the new school year started and Danny was finally able to find his locker without rummaging through his memories for a prolonged minute. The teachers weren't any help, he'd tried the first day. He asked the vice principal, a balding, somewhat round-bellied man called Lancer, whom informed him with all clarity that it was his responsibility to memorize his own locker's location. Thankfully he was good with numbers, or at the very least, he forced himself to be in order to attain his dream of entering NASA. His lock combination came easily.
He hoped he wouldn't run into his sister, she was a junior, it would harm her reputation. He cared mildly about that, although he worried for his sanity more. Jasmine would probably inquire how his week was going and be a general mother hen. She liked to behave as if she was concerned about his mental development. She was conceited. Full of herself, but respected for her intellect and, in a manner, beloved. By school staff, anyhow.
She had acquaintances, other girls phoning her in the afternoons on her cell. Her closeness to them, he wasn't sure. She dated in the past. Her hair was long, touching her back, an orangey red in contrast to their mother's reddish brown. Her eyes were unlike either of their parents', an aqua green. She had a tendency to push back her bangs with a teal headband. She was considerably stylish in dress, preferring long sleeves. She was on the higher end of the social food chain, meanwhile her brother dwelt in the middle lower spectrum alongside his friends, of which he had two. Jasmine, or Jazz, as she liked to be nicknamed, had great relationships with basically every teacher in Casper High. There wasn't a single one she wasn't familiar with by name and face.
First period was with the vice principal, Mr. Lancer. He was an English teacher on top of being V.P. and substituted for various classes. He wasn't mean but he wasn't kind. Danny didn't have a term to label the middle-aged instructor with. The classroom was fairly empty when Danny entered it, he didn't see Tucker until just before the bell rang and students came pouring in.
"I forgot, happy birthday, man," blurted Tucker as Danny moved to a desk behind him.
Danny smiled, "Thanks, Tuck'."
"What're you gonna do?"
"My parents said we'd go out for dinner tonight, that's it."
Tucker nodded, "Only a few more months before I catch up with you dude, and then the ladies will be all over me."
Danny rolled his eyes, then flickered to the other side of the room when someone snorted. It was Dash Baxter, avoiding eye contact, sorting through his backpack for something.
A robust blond boy—dark eyebrows revealed that wasn't his hair's true color, Danny had known him to have dark hair when they were younger—with purplish blue eyes, Dashiel Baxter was a charismatic A-lister, a popular footballer, quarterback actually, and a sophomore. His hair was purposefully slicked backward and he had a big chest. His voice wasn't as deep as a person would expect it to be for his size, however, it didn't change anything. Dash was favored by most. He frequently donned a Letterman jacket and he didn't have much affection for Danny Fenton. He didn't bully Danny, not yet, but it wasn't unimaginable.
Maybe Danny was being paranoid and uncharacteristically pessimistic. Years ago, in a mixed seventh-sixth grade class, Dash and Danny became at odds when the latter overheard the former mocking FentonWorks and the people who lived there crudely. Danny, in a rare instance of outrage—he was an amiable kid, who let things pass by—told him to quit it and it escalated to yelling. The teacher had to intervene. Dash never seemed to get over it, singling Danny out at every opportunity.
His parents were repeatedly painted as the town kooks, the crazy people, he hated it. His mom and dad themselves weren't fazed by it. He envied their thicker hides, simultaneously baffled that they didn't feel concern about it whatsoever. They had confidence which was absent in their son. Dash kept sending him strange brief looks since the school year began and Danny didn't know what he was thinking. It was too soon to assume the guy was going to give him a hard time.
Did Danny stare? Was that it? If he simply ignored the other teen completely would that dissolve the tension? He hoped so. If luck was lenient it would turn out that Dash had matured and was in fact a nicer person. Danny for certain wasn't the same he'd been in middle school. Initially he'd been more ready to fight back when bullied. As the enmity with Dash progressed though, Danny found himself growing quieter and more withdrawn. Calling them out on their actions only made it worse. He knew better in the present than he had then.
"We'll be using the computers today," Lancer proclaimed, "Try not to shock yourselves plugging them in."
Second period was biology. Mr. Falluca was a short aging man with gray hair and kind eyes who never seemed to raise his voice. He described the lessons they'd be going through and handed out papers individually. Tucker didn't share this class with Danny, unfortunately, but somebody else did. Samantha Manson, Danny's other friend.
He didn't greet her, but did catch her eye momentarily on the path to his usual seat. He'd gotten to know her in seventh grade, found her crying alone underneath a stairwell and didn't speak to her until she stopped. She told him that the other girls were absolute witches. Listening intently, he didn't argue. After that he said hi to her in the halls between class periods and eventually she sought him out to hang with during lunch.
Since they didn't have any classes together the lunch commons became their primary area of interaction, which also meant Tucker never met her until eighth grade. Now that they were freshmen it was random chance the three of them were placed in similar schedules. They even had the same lunch period. Danny didn't intend to waste the serendipity. She and Tucker clashed on ideals but it was a matter of time before they warmed up. He was positive.
Sam was an ultra-recyclo vegetarian. He was pretty convinced she made that up herself. Whatever, it fit her. She didn't eat meat, while Tucker was a fanatic about the stuff, she wanted a cleaner, healthier world, Tucker was content to accept the world as it was, she was a Goth, he was a gadgetry nerd. In the beginning Danny possessed his doubts, he got over them. He knew them. They were good friends. If they had that in common, surely there was something they could relate with in one another.
He decided to think about that later and worked on his given paper.
Lunch rolled around after history, which was third period and uneventful. The commons were crowded, as they ever were. Cliques sat with their respective members. Instead of sitting with his fellow geeks, Tucker chose to be with Danny, as it happened so did Sam, abandoning her Gothic circle. She had a salad, Tucker got meatloaf, they did not talk, scarcely recognized each others presence.
"So, how's your day been?" Danny threw out to break the ice.
"Good," Sam said first, "I finished a poem."
"Nice," Danny said.
"A cute chick replied to my text!" Tucker burst.
Sam finally turned to him, "With a restraining order?"
"Hee-eeck no!"
Here we go, Danny sighed internally.
Tucker seemed to flip his hair without having much to flip. Was it possible to flip a beret dramatically? "She just couldn't resist my charm." Danny had to admire his conviction, he really believed what he was saying.
"Do you even know her name?" Sam crossed her arms over her chest.
Was that a glare behind the sheen of glasses? "I will soon!"
"So, uh," Danny interrupted, "Remember the thing we'll be doing tomorrow? At my house?"
That halted them both, Sam's probable insult visibly dying in her throat. Their bodies angled toward him, awarding full attention.
"Yeah," Tucker confirmed, "What about it?"
Danny searched for an answer, "Well—" He didn't have anything to say, "Just wanted to make sure you guys were still coming, I mean, yeah." It was painfully obvious he'd spoken at all to stop them from fighting.
To his shock, they both looked guilty. Tucker glanced to one side, Sam pursed her lips.
'The thing,' was the activation of the Fenton Portal. Danny's parents and Tucker's brought it up originally. Tucker heard about the Portal through Danny when they were young, knew almost as much as Danny did. Sam he'd spilled the beans to during the last year of middle school, in an attempt to keep her interest as a friend. She had been growing distant and the knowledge that his mom and dad were actual ghosts scientists hooked her in. She was intensely taken with the paranormal and spooky lore in general.
Long story cut short, Tucker wanted to see the Portal be turned on since he was five. Jack and Maddie agreed to it a couple weeks before freshman year started. Tuck's parents were fine with it. They knew the Fentons would go the extra mile to keep their son safe. Sam much more recently asked her parents if she could come over to Danny's place on Thursday, he suspected she hadn't told them the whole truth, but, hey, they were her parents, not his. His parents weren't averse to the idea of an audience.
Jasmine would be there, too. Jazz didn't like their mom and dad's career choice, not outright insisting they would never find ghosts, but heavily implying it. Danny thought that was cold of her. Ectology was their parents' passion, their lifetime effort, and she dismissed it so readily.
He hadn't seen her all day.
Danny made a meaningless gesture with one hand, "Anything else new?"
Conversation reignited; things were alright.
