A man sat typing at his computer, slight bags under his eyes due to the time (1:20 am).
Though the only light came from the computer monitor and a small desk lamp, one could easily see that the room was not an ordinary office of the working class. It was a large airy room, with an ornate fireplace at one end. The walls were lined with book shelves, filled to the brim with large volumes. There were several large armchairs, and the desk that the man sat at was carved of expensive wood. The entire room seemed to scream of money.
Money that did not seem to be allowing the man to go to sleep at a decent hour. Not that it could be helped- rich or not, work still had to be completed.
While the man tried to finish his work, sipping the last of his coffee, a figure glided into the room through a large portrait hanging above the fire place. The floating figure was bulky, with hair made of flames. His metallic body gave off a faint glow- a glow that the man apparently noticed.
The man looked up at the creature, not with fear or surprise, but only with a small hint of annoyance. "Ah, Skulker," he said in a well polished voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you at this time of night? Besides hearing the tale of some new capture, I mean?" The man said it with only a touch of sarcasm.
The creature spoke, ignoring the man's comment about a new capture. "Forgive me, Plasmius, but I encountered something that may be of interest to you."
The man- Plasmius- raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"A new portal, sir, a permanent one. It was created in some lab under the name of 'Fenton Works'. I felt you might wish to know of it."
Interest flashed in the man's eyes. "Well, Skulker, it appears you were correct. This information may be of use to me." He surveyed the ghost, who was looking at him with an expression of anticipation. "You will find some new blasters down on the desk by the main computer in the lab, for your payment. You are dismissed."
Plasmius faced the computer again; the creature hesitated only a moment before flying back through the portrait to get his reward.
The man did not resume typing on his computer. He was lost deep in thought.
So, it seems that the fool finally succeeded in creating a ghost portal. Amazing. Perhaps he is less of an idiot than I thought. I slight sneer curled onto his face. I will need to test him…
"BRING! BRING! BRING!"
I groaned at the sound of the alarm clock, and tried to ignore it. Of course, its blaring ring continued to drill into my skull, so I stuck out my hand and tried to find the snooze button on the thing.
My hand searched everywhere, but couldn't even find the stupid clock. Annoyed, I sat up, forced to get ready for school.
"OUCH!" I muttered as my head collided painfully with something wooden. What am I doing under my bed?!
Now tired, annoyed, and confused, I pulled my self from under the bed. I was covered in dust and all that other stuff that you find under beds. Gross.
How did I end up under there? I know I went to sleep on the top of my bed…I must have rolled off, and then rolled under.
As I contemplated this mystery, the alarm clock continued its obnoxious ringing. I turned around and pushed the button, a little harder than I needed to. It didn't look like I was going to get any extra sleep today.
So with no other choice, I started my morning routine. First, a quick shower (much needed to get all those dust bunnies off), followed by a quick towel off. Then, I went and threw on a pair of jeans and my favorite T-shirt.
Next, I packed my bag. Dumped in last night's history essay, followed by the copy of Great Expectations we were reading in English (my favorite subject). If I remembered correctly, all my other stuff was in my locker, so I was set to go.
So, I walked down the hall, bag in tow. Everything was going fine until I got to the stairs. Halfway down, I saw my foot sink through the floor. I cried out in surprise as my feet stopped, but my momentum kept the rest of my body going. In a few seconds I was tumbling down the stairs.
I landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Once I had detangled my self, I immediately looked at my right foot. Examining it, I was relived to find that there was nothing wrong with it. It was completely solid and unharmed.
No, it was the rest of my body that was harmed. My entire body was sore. Great, now I'll have matching bruises all over my body. This just isn't my day…
I got up, wincing slightly, and marched into the kitchen. The only one in there was my sister, her nose stuck in a book. She didn't even look up as she said, "I heard some noise out there. Are you okay?"
"Fine," I replied shortly. I surveyed the kitchen, looking for any signs of my parents. "Where are Mom and Dad?"
This time Jazz did look up. "Oh, still down in the lab." She rolled her turquoise eyes, showing her complete lack of interest.
Last night it didn't take long for my parent's to realize that the portal was working. They were ecstatic, and didn't leave the lab all night (Jazz had to make dinner). Mom was a bit suspicious to why it suddenly started working, but my Dad insisted that it had just been a delayed reaction. "After all," my Dad said, "Fenton inventions always work."
"You know, their portal might actually be working this time."
Jazz gave me a look of disbelief. "Oh, come on, do you actually believe that? A portal to the 'Ghost Zone'?" She highlighted her words with air quotes. "Besides, when have Mom and Dad's inventions ever worked?"
I searched through my memory. "The Fenton Anti-Creep Stick works great."
"That because it's just a baseball bat with the word Fenton on it."
She did have a point. I knew that none of my parent's inventions ever worked. But this was different. I knew for a fact that the portal was working- whether or not it led to a dimension full of dead spirits, was another matter.
The rest of breakfast passed by pretty quickly, without much conversation. Jazz was still reading once I had finished my cereal- being the owner of a new car, she was able to drive to school.
I picked up my school bag, and shouted o goodbye to my parents. Something indistinguishable was called back to me from the lab that was probably something along the lines of 'Have a nice day at school!'
Once leaving the house, I slowly trudged to school. I met Sam and Tucker, sitting on Tuck's doorstep, like always. "Hey guys."
The two stood up, ready to depart for school. "You okay, Danny? You seem to be a little off." Tucker had known me since kindergarten, and could always tell when I wasn't feeling well.
"He's right," agreed Sam. Suddenly her tone became lower. "Did anything else…weird happen?"
"No." All of yesterday Sam (and occasionally Tucker) had sent me surreptitious glances, checking to make sure I hadn't suddenly began glowing. "I just fell down the stairs. And hit my head." I didn't feel like going into all the strange details.
"Ouch. Does it hurt?"
"I'm Fine, just got a couple of bruises. Come on, let's get going. We don't want to be late."
We continued the journey with light chatter, (this consisted off teasing Tucker about his beret and something that was on TV last night) while I avoided any more mentions of the accident. I wasn't in the mood to talk about strange occurrences of the previous afternoon.
It was only about ten minutes until we arrived at every teenager's prison: High School.
Now, Casper High, was not, as my Dad thinks, named after Casper the Friendly Ghost. It was actually named after the city's supposed founder, Edward Casper. The city itself was apparently named after his late wife, Amity. My dad has heard this story, of course, but he believes that's just what the ghosts want us to think.
The three of us wound through the various cliques and social groups (making a wide arc around the football team). We had already been at the school for about two weeks, so the novelty of being freshmen had warn off.
The first few classes went as usual. In art, a paint fight broke out, which was amusing to watch under our desk sanctuary. At least it was until one of the popular girls (Valerie Grey, I think her name was) got pink paint on Sam's shirt. Tucker and I had to restrain her from killing them all. Overall, it was a miracle that we weren't all in detention.
History was boring, and I spent the class taking notes but not really understanding anything the teacher talked about. In science everybody got really annoyed at me because I kept dropping all the beakers. Forty minutes into the class I had already destroyed fifteen test tubes, three beakers and one thermometer (I hadn't even known you could break those). I have been banned from handling fragile object of school property for the rest of the year.
Things didn't really heat up until after lunch. Sam was complaining about the lack of anything edible in the cafeteria while Tucker raved about the schools Sloppy Joes. We had stopped by my locker to get stuff for English.
As I dug around for my books, I suddenly felt a sharp tug on the back of my shirt. "Hey Fent- turd!"
I gulped uneasily. "He-hey Dash. How are you?"
Dash was in the grade above me. He was big and bulky, with sandy blonde hair. He was the school's Alfa- the football team's quarter-back, and head of the A-list. Despite his size, he had a pretty nasally voice, but nobody ever mentions it. The last kid who did got stuck in a garbage can for two hours.
"I'm doing pretty good, Fenton. It just seems that you hadn't been given you daily beating yet."
I didn't even bother trying to get out of it. Sam and Tucker watched, unable to do anything while Dash was accompanied by the half the football team. I was hoisted up by my shirt and Dash rammed me into my own locker. I barley fit, but he got my whole body in somehow.
He laughed in my face for a few moments before slamming the door, which locked instantly. I could hear muffled applause and laughter through the doors as the group drifted away.
As I sat in there, I felt I flare I anger. I hated Dash! Ever since the first day, when I had accidentally bumped into him, I had been shoved into lockers and had my head dumped into toilets. I hated him!
The door squeaked open, and Tuckers face came into view. He tugged on my leg, and I came tumbling out of the locker. After I had rearranged myself, Sam stuck out a hand to help me up. For a few moments, we were face to face, my eyes looking into her violet ones.
She jumped back slightly. "Danny! Your eyes are glowing!"
I blinked in surprise. "What!" The fear that has evaporated with Tucker's explanation came crashing back. "They can't be!"
"Well, they aren't anymore…But they were glowing, and bright green!"
I shook my head franticly. "No, you probably just saw them wrong. Maybe it was just the light reflected off of them."
Sam crossed her arms and gave me a piercing gaze. With her dark clothes and makeup, she looked quite fearsome. "The school lights are not green. Besides, ask Tucker. He saw your eyes to!"
She turned on him, and he looked as if he'd preferred if he hadn't been involved. "Well, I didn't really get that good a look at his eyes…."
"Did you see them glowing or not?"
"Well, they did seem bright…Yeah. I guess so." I wanted to groan out loud.
Sam looked at me triumphantly. "Ha! You see, I knew you should go to see your parents."
I picked up my bag, which was still on the floor from when I was getting my books. Then I started walking down the hall, the other two following me. "That doesn't prove anything. You think you saw my eyes glowing- big deal. I'll go to my parents if something…weirder happens."
Sam began rattling on about how I should tell my parents, and soon Tucker joined in (traitor). I tried my best not to listen to them. They didn't understand my fear. They just thought it was a weird side effect of radioactive goo.
But what if it wasn't? I had been raised in a family that hunts ghosts. I might have not believed in the creatures for years, but even I couldn't deny the facts- a wispy tail, floating, and the bright, green eyes- all occurring after I had been shocked in a portal that was supposed to lead to a 'Ghost Zone'.
Don't think like that, my more optimist part of me scolded. Sam was just imagining things. Tucker's probably right. You're not dead.
"…could give you real health problems." I toned in for the last of Sam's rant. She was about to continue on, when the bell let out a loud shrill, signaling the beginning of class. Even if it was cliché, I couldn't help but think saved by the bell.