Hey! This is my first DP fanfic, so reviews are doubly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, but I do own this particular plotline.
I could start off this story with a dramatic line, telling of a story filled with tragedy, endless drama, and beautiful romance. But this is my story, and I'm going to tell the truth about how I, Samantha Manson, became the center of the strangest love triangle I've ever seen. So get ready to dive in head first, readers, because there's no looking back.
In reality, romance isn't all it's thought up to be. I'm going to say it right here and now, folks; Romeo and Juliet is a whole bunch of crap which is a really sad excuse for a story. If you believed one moment of that corny play, get ready to be slapped in the face. Love isn't like that. It's a complicated, jumbled mess of fateful events that get dumped on you by someone who apparently thinks it's really fun to mess up my life.
So here it is; the story of one Samantha Manson, a gothic teen who is about to show you what it's really like to be in love with your best friend (who just so happens to be half ghost), and a boy who isn't all that he seems to be.
It started off normal enough. I was cornered by my mother (and a frilly pink dress), and hating every moment of it. It's happened often enough before, but we won't get into that. It isn't important to the story.
"But, Sam, dearie," my mother pleaded, and I rolled my eyes in frustration. "Danny will love you in this!" My eyes widened in embarrassment, and I blushed.
"Mom, you know that Danny's just a friend," I replied with a forced smile. Of course, that was only a half truth; Danny and I weren't dating or anything like that, but I did have a crush on him. Everyone always referred to us as a couple, though, which made no sense at all to me. He always crushed on girls like Paulina or Valerie. Not that I didn't want him to be happy, but...it was hard to see him always looking at them, and to see his feelings always being returned. Even if they were both only in love with half of him...
"Of course, sweetie," she said, giving me an all-knowing smile. "But you don't need a boy to wear a nice dress." My mother's smile suddenly grew wider, and I groaned. I was definitely in for trouble. (And boy, was I right!)
"You'll look so wonderful in this at the Masquerade Ball!" My mouth fell open. The what?
"Mom, what are you talking about?" I asked, a pained expression on my face. What was she up to now?
"The annual Masquerade Ball, of course," she squealed, and I stared at her. "It's on Sunday night. I signed you up weeks ago, Samantha, so no backing out!" I racked my mind for an excuse, anything that could get me out of this.
"But, Mom, my friends and I have plans that night!" I replied nervously. (Totally a lie, but, hey, who's counting?) But my mom just sighed and frowned at me. "Then you'll have to cancel them, Sam," she replied. "I'm going to be firm about this. You need some time away from those friends of yours, anyway." Before I could figure out a good comeback, my grandmother sped into the room on her scooter. I looked at her hopefully; my grandmother had always been a voice of reason in my family.
"Grandma! Mom wants me to go to this masquerade thing-y, but I-"
"I think that it's a wonderful idea," she replied, her voice happy but her face serious as she looked at me. "I remember my first masquerade quite fondly..." Then she sped out of the room, like she'd never been there. I just stared, the fight gone out of me. My friends might call me the 'eternal activist', but I know when I'm beat. My mother's face just beamed at me, outrageously happy that she'd actually won against me. (Which I promise will never, ever happen again.) I sighed dejectedly.
"Fine," I said after a moment. "I'll go." She squealed again, then started pacing. Before she could think of anything more horrible, I interrupted with, "But I'll pick out what I'm going to wear." My mother's face fell for a minute, then perked up again. "As long as it's a dress," she compromised. "And you have to look respectable." My mother started to walk into one of our kitchen's (we have three), but not before adding, "Oh, and you'll need a mask. It is a masquerade, after all."
And that, my dear readers, is how this whole fiasco started.