I realized that I accidentally wrote know instead of own on the previous chappie. And I am sooo sorry about that. I really am. -sad face-
And now, I've got it right.
I own nothing except the plot.
DP---
Chapter 2: Danny : The Disaster Driver
Sleep-deprived was the most appropriate term to describe Sam's exhausted purple eyes. After she landed this job on Spark, the school's newspaper, she had never established an 8-hour night sleep again. Not that she regret it but being always up after midnight sucked up her energy, making her feel sleepy in every class. Especially Lancer's class. Her first period class. But that was later she loved her secret job even though it was a mixture of sacrifice and struggle. The job itself fulfilled some deep inner passion (more popularly known as writing).
So here she was, actually and physically inside the school building at an early hour. Her black raven hair was still wet from the shower but she was already inside the publication room, double checking her work. There were a few noises outside the room, maybe the students were arriving at this point. She glanced toward the door, thankfully she didn't forget to lock it. She then checked her watch. 6:15 a.m. Fifteen more minutes before classes start. She resumed cautiously examining every detail in her new chapter. And when she reached the bottom, she inserted her pen name. Midnight Writer.
Sometimes she thought her pseudoname sucked. A lousy, girly name. But then again, Sam Manson was a Goth so why would she care at all, right? Right. The pen name didn't matter, the only thing that mattered to her was to keep her identity classified. She didn't want to draw any attention from the public. She didn't need to. She just wanted to do whatever she loved to do.
Sam stood up and left the manuscript on the editor in chief's table. She then broke a gap between the door and the wall and peaked through it. Luckily, the hallway was empty. The kids must have dropped themselves to their rooms. She slid out of the room and went to her fisrt subject class. And as what she always did everyday of the whole school year. Sam entered the room alone.
DP---
Danny's eyes flickered open. And the first thing he saw was the ceiling above him. Clear, plain faded blue ceiling. As plain and boring as his painfully battered existence . . . or as close to that word. For christ sake, he was alive and dead--well half-dead literally. A hybrid of human and ghost. Was that still under the existence category? Or was he even existing at all? Did it make him some ultimate candidate for the world's most dreaded freak? He was stripped off of dignity all because of Vlad.
Vlad. Amity park. Revenge. His plan. Shit!
He drifted off again. He quickly got up and rolled from his bed. Great, he was going to be late, again. What else was new? Ugh, that would be his school. What was its name again? He racked his newly awakened brain for this 'new and amazing' school's name. Something nudged his insides. The school's name was whacked out coincidence. Because it was related to ghosts. Ghosts. That was it! It was Casper, Casper high. He nearly smiled. Life was very unpredictable.
He went inside the bathroom and did a quick shower. He dried himself up and put on his white he decided to give himself a glance from the mirror.
Wasn't Danny charming, displaying those fresh gashes from last night's battle with dear uncle Vlad?
He groaned in annoyance. These wounds wouldn't let him be a low profiler as he aimed to be. Got to find something that would keep these flaws under the radar. He suddenly wished he had something magical. Harry Potter's magic cloak would do the trick but God, he was a ghost! If you were talking about invisibility, he could do it to his torso without even blinking. Although it would make one hell of a circus if he arrived at school without an upper trunk. Another almost-smile factor.
Again, he got lost in his own little world. Darn it, he needed a damned shrit to hide these awful stains. Something dark and sleek and black. Black! That was exactly what he needed. He gave his closet one last good shove and grabbed a black hooded jacket. He put it on hastily, fetched his backpack and hurried down the stairs.
When he reached the base of the stairs, he crouched and waited. Careful not to be seen by his folks, worse Jazz, He didn't want any homily from any of them. The living room was empty. They must've been in the Kitchen, eating breakfast. That was what normal families do, don't they?
He felt confident enough so he crept toward the exit, cautious not to make any sound. Lunged himself to the door, grabbed the knob and--
"Sweetie, wait!" Came the sickeningly sweet voice of his mom.
Congratulations, he failed yet another attempt to sneak out of their own house. He cursed under his breath. He didn't really really need this. He didn't have the time to pretend that he liked hismom applying all those pampering stuff to him. He didn't need her to care for him. He was 16! He could actually take very good care of himself more than his beloved parents would ever know. He wasn't like the other teenagers out there who loved to put ut the tought-self costume. He wasn't like them. He wasn't normal.
"Son..." The voice of his mom floated around the bare walls of their dull house. Reverberating through each fiber of their goddamned so-called home.
"I'm late!" He snapped, as he clenched both of his fists, his back still turned to her.
"You didn't eat last night sweetie. Are you okay?" If his mom was hurt, she hid it very well. The uber concerned tone was still on afterall.
"I'm fine." He replied thourh his gritted teeth.
A soft warm hand extended and clamped around his shoulder. He grimaced inside. He felt weird and . . . weak, miserable. Something bolted through the odd feeling. Memories of his childhood, his past came flashing before his eyes.
He felt the sudden urge to get out and get wild. He imagined shooting ghost rays from his hands around their home and screaming at the top of his lungs like a raving lunatic. He felt the surge to run. Run away from everything.
And so he did.
The next thing he knew was bolting out from the front door and running the heck away from their house.
DP----
As embarrasing as it was to admit that Mr. Lancer's class was boring, Sam couldn't help herself nodding off to sleep. The odd black dream creatures kept taking her away from reality. Which seemed to be the most wonderful thing right now.
"Class, I have an announcement..." She heard Lancer's old dull voice. But it sounded like he was in the far mountain tops of Alaska.
Don't sleep, you'll get detention.
Was it Lancer again or another slight concerned being?
"A trans..blah blah student. . . from . . ."
Open your eyes! Come on.
Okay. . .That wasn't Lancer, not a non-significant being also. That, was her. Was it subconscious or conscience? She couldn't remember.
". . .consin. . .absent . . " His voice was vanishing from Sam's hearing territory again. "or . . late!"
The sound of Lancer's voice raised a few octaves higher and was accompanied by the huge and sharp slamming of some big object. . . or was it a gunshot? . . . Followed by the loud and startled gasps of the students. Put it all on the same time and you'd get Sam's head bolting from the desk she had been lying on moments ago.
What the heck is going on?
Sam rubbed her eyes to get a better look at her surroundings. The whole class had that idiotically surprised faces and was all wide-eyed at something right in front of the room. She turned her gaze to the path they were all looking at and she instantly registered the feisty anger in Lancer's eyes. He was gritting his teeth so hard Sam could imagine them slicing through his mouth. The line of his body tightened and became raw. Sam saw the restrained hot fume knocking inside Lancer's chest. He, too was staring intently at something in front.
Finally, Sam let her eyes flew to the object they were all watching. Although instead of seeing someone bloodied by what she thought was a gunshot, she saw a boy standing in front and a poor wooden door vast opened. So that was the noise. Sam conluded. Then she swung her thoughts back at the newly arrived boy. He had his hands hidden inside his black jacket's front pockets. And he was looking at Lancer as if he was a horribly funny puppet. A moment of dead silence passed. Then Lancer spoke.
"I assume you are Mr. Fenton."
"Yeah," He huffed boastfully as he strutted down to the middle of the room. Giving Sam and the others a good angle at him.
Sam heard the kids started whispering and nudging each other. At the corner of her eye, she saw Lancer forcing himself to be calm and in control. She glanced at the new kid and noticed he was sporting a faded blue jeans with a pair of old, dirty almost worn out white sneakers. He had a mass of black raven hair that nearly veiled down his eyes that what to be looked like a shade of sky blue.
Mr. Lancer sighed heavily. "Well, Mr. Fenton are you familiar with the word knock?"
The Fenton guy gave him a bored and smug look. He raised his nose higher than necessary.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Where are you from kid?" A male vocie from the center of the room asked suddenly. Sam recognized it without even looking, Dash Baxter, quarterback. Big blond moron who only gets interested in salivating model-like girls and beating up the losers. Couldn't things get any worse?
"Wisconsin, meathead." Said kid sparing Dash a mocking glance.
Gasps and oohhs hovered inside the room. Yes, this day was definitely going worse. Everybody knew facing Dash was like hitting yourself with a sledge hammer. Painfully non-sense, stupid and a total waste of valuable time. Well,everybody, except this newbie.
Dash sat up straighter in his seat to make himself look bigger. "So gorillas are like, allowed in Wisconsin?" Dash let a satisfied grin crossed his face.
Rich laughter followed closely by. Sam swore she saw the new kid's eyes flashed to glowing neon green. But it had gone rapidly. She could also see the boy clenching his fists under his pockets. He was about to retort when Mr. Lancer interrupted.
"That's enough. You two keep quiet."
Everyone turned to look at him and gave him the you're-a-killjoy-glare. Lancer pretended that he didn't notice anything and kept going.
"Mr. Fenton take that empty seat right beside Ms. Manson." Lancer pointed out his finger to the innocent chair lying just right beside Sam.
The whole class errupted in a loud guffaw. Resembling those of the vultures rejoicing over their pathetic victims. So. . . .things were transforming way past the word worst.
"That's great, you two could like, hook up and have freaking ugly kids!" Dash shouted that led to another wave of insulting laughter.
"Language!" Mr. Lancer screeched. "One last warning Mr. Baxter."
Sam ignored the last remnants of laughter and fascinated herself to the window on her left. Fenton,on the other hand began tracing his steps toward the unoccupied seat next to her.
"I'll keep an eye on you Mr. Fenton, I want you to know that, that kind of attitude isn't allowed in Casper high." Lancer stated as Fenton walked.
"Sure. . . " He mumbled. "Old man."
He dropped himself to the chair beside Sam. Cuupped up his chin with one hand,and just let his thoughts take over. He wasn't planning to listen or to get to know each student. Getting close to other people was the least to do in here. Particularly if he wasn't even planning to stay. He would be gone from this place before they even learn his address. Yes, he was selfish. Yes, he was uncaring. Yes , he was a liar. But that was due to his now-ruined and would-never-be-arranged life. He would just be known as that-guy-who-never-gives-a-damn-to-everything. That's just-
What the hell? His eyes transformed into slits and his brows went colliding on each other. Something grazed his elbow. Not painful but purely annoying. His eyes searched for the possible cause of it. And he almost laughed when he saw the one who did it.
---...--
Sam was attempting every probable way to ignore her new had tried gazing out the window, mesmerizing herself with the floor, doodling things on her plastic desk, turning her back on him, but nothing was working. She was feeling more and more awkward with every second while her friend-by-her-side was comfortably zoning off. How insane was to be bothered by someone who hadn't done anything to you?
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught an example of high-school-slut-picking-up-a-supposed-to-be-hottie. Her blood curdled at more than a hundred degree celsius. Those type of acts were one of the reasons why adults' thoughts of teenagers turned from trustworthy to flirtworthy. It was insulting for the fact that she never had a boyfriend. Not that she was looking for one anyway. She didn't need it. She had a full plate on her life so she didn't have to have another problem.
And there they were. The major stars of their own little film. Paulina Sanchez, the beautiful Latina A.K.A the queen bee of this school. Who had a peasize lump in her head as her brain. And was also a cheerleader. But that wasn't the reason Sam hated her. It was because of Paulina's super obsession to color pink and her empowering bratty attitude. Not to mention her magical ability to catch every guy's eye and heart. Even Harvey's. Which was truly depressing considered the fact that he was a smart guy. Only not that bright to identify Paulina as a brain-damaged doll.
And newsflash! There she was again, preying on her newly arrived victim. It seemed that the girl's long, perfectly manicured claws were already grasping its prey by the neck. She watched as Paulina threw a note to this Fenton's desk and how sickeningly pathetic she winked at him. Eeww.
--...--
So much for being invisble and not knowing everybody. Danny's eyes glistened with the combination of disappointment, annoyance and a little bit of disinterest. Some hot girl with silky black long hair and twinkling green eyes winked seductively at him. She was the one who hit him. She pointed a freshly manicured nail at something on top of his desk. He glanced at it and saw a poor, powerless crumpled paper sprawled gracefully in front of him. A note huh, he bemused. He stole a look back at the girl and she smiled contentedly. She even licked her own lips!
Whoa, that was unusual! He peaked at Lancer who had his back at the class and babbling something about a moldy oldy piece of literature. Then stared at the paper in front of him. To read or Not to read? If he ignore the paper the Latina would sure to get angry or even upset. And a mad girl wouldn't make things anew. It would be pretty boring. He was certain he wouldn't even feel it. But if he uncrample and read it, there was the risk of getting caught by this old fat bald teacher. And risks were always thrilling to him, like a river of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Just thinking of its effect was stirring his insides madly. Besides, receving detention would be the best valid reason to get the hell out of this class. Aside from faking a heart attack or punching that blond moron square in his face who insulted him earlier.
So the answer? To read it. He took one last look on Lancer and beagan unraveling the paper. He was greeted with feminine cursive strokes, not that delicate but really girly with all those curls and drawn hearts around it.
---...---
Okay, this was getting really irritating. Sam thought as she watched the to-be-couple. Seriously, how could a girl like Paulina, an abrassively mistress of the pink lip gloss who had a nice body but empty brains could instanly slither her way to every guy's damned gut? It was worse than a magic, it was a curse. Why did the world allowed creatures like her to live and be on top of the food chain? It was very, very unfair.
----...---
Danny's eyes shifted left to right as he stared incredulously at the note. The girl must have done it on purpose. She couldn't possibly wrote it in accident or confused it as the right term. He didn't know how should he react or what would he react in the first place. With both hands clutching the paper, he reread the note.
Hey Handsome, There was a small vertical line and a hypen, below it was a half opened parenthesis. A supposed to be winking image.
I'm Paulina, do yah want 2 sit with me, I mean us. The cool kids, duh. You know, where we can get to know itch other some more.
Uhm...cuz I feel like, we're totally maid for itch other. and that's genius, really. Don't yah think?
An innocent smirk was seen on Danny's face followed by the eruption of rich, insulting laughter. The class broke into stupefaction as they watched him clutched his stomach in sudden pure joy. Mr. Lancer's eyes twitched hazardously as trudged his way toward him.
"Do you find anything hilarious about the Inferno, Mr. Fenton?" The out-of-shaped teacher questioned with one perfectly arched brow.
"No," He said trying to constrain the remnants of his outburst and swiftly crumpling the note in his hands.
"Well, is there anything humorous in this room?"
"As a matter of fact, yeah, there is." He stated straightening up on his seat. There wasn't any trace of sudden happiness written on his face. But his eyes were shimmering with dark amusement.
"Really, Mr. Fenton." Lancer crossed his large arms over his chest. "Will you kindly share it to us?"
"It is you."
Sam shrugged her head in disbelief. This guy was definitely asking for trouble. Serious trouble.
"Me?" Lancer was nearing the zero level of patience.
"Yeah, you're hilarious. You're an out-of-shaped, bald, annoying teacher."
The room went dead with Danny's answer as he anticipated the next miraculous words from Lancer's mouth.
"Detention, Mr. Fenton. Now!" Lancer exclaimed in his rage.
Danny happily grabbed his backpack and dashed out of the room with lightning speed. Finally! He was free from that crowded hellhole. He could now put his plan to action. First things first, learn the school's instant exits. Know the hallways and rooms available for hiding. Familiarize with its blueprints.
In short, give yourself the grand tour!
---...
Hmmm, the sides of the hallway was plastered with all sorts of club posters, organization ads, school announcements, all that crap. If there was a wall behind those stuff, it was probably lying there somewhere, a few feet under those mob of papers. He was about to continue down the hall when a sound caught his ears. He broke into a halt and turned to look back.
"Hey," A kid wearing yellow sweatshirt and gray cargo pants greeted. "You're the new kid, right?"
Danny only raised his brow in return as he tried to read what was on this guy's mind.
"The name's Tuck, short for Tucker Foley." He extended a tanned hand to him and Danny just stared at it, as if he never experienced a handshake before.
This Tucker guy, he had a pair of eye-glasssed forest green eyes and a quirky smile that was about to fade when Danny looked like he wasn't going to accept the handshake. He was going to retreat his hand when Danny instantly grabbed it with lightning-fast speed and gave it with one quick good shake.
"Danny Fenton." He stated as he let go Tucker's hand. "Nice to meet you." Then, he begun to turn his back on him.
Tucker almost dropped his jaw at his withdrawal. But he recovered from it a little too swiflty. "I'm a publicist." He called out to the now walking away Fenton guy. "I know everybody!" something in his tone must have caught Danny's ear, he stopped, hesitated then started tracing his steps back to Tucker. "Uh, yeah, I know everybody cause I'm a member of the Spark, the school's newspaper. "He said as he gestured a copy of the newspaper in front Danny who managed to be on his previous position.
"Everybody, huh." The newbie's tone was deep and dark, it could've drown Tucker in.
"Yeah, almost 'xcept you. So, you're from. . .Wisconsin, right? Boy, that was quite far from this small town." He paused. "So, did you like Casper High? Do you find it interesting? We have tiny facilities here, compared to schools in Wisconsin. But the people here are great, they're friendly. And oh, I'm not just a member... "
If Tucker was paying much attention to Danny than his questions, he should've seen he wasn't even listening to him. Instead, he was staring at the newspaper rolled in Tucker's hand.
"...I could be a friend too. . ."Tucker continued as he landed a look on Danny, at last. He noticed his sudden odd and huge interest on his hand. Tucker's eyes traced the object Danny was so busy staring at. He was utterly startled when he realized Danny was forcing himself to read the rolled newspaper that was in his hand.
"Here." Tucker said as he offered the paper to Danny who was completely baffled with his action. He looked at Tucker with a questionable expression in his blue eyes. "Come on, it's yours. Don't worry, I can get another copy anytime I want."
Danny nodded almost imperceptibly as he took the paper from Tuck's hands. "Thanks." He mumbled, his eyes already scanning the headlines.
"No problem." He shrugged. "Just look for me if you need something-anything ."
"I'll be your friend." He said and truned to left.
Was it just Danny or that Tucker guy was actually sincere about being his friend? Well, Danny smiled. Some people might just be purely nice anyway.
Of course, he could be wrong. Tucker could be faking the friendly attitude just to unravel Danny's smelling dirty secrets then he would lay it out on public, giving Danny one good slap in the face, reminding him how painful it was to trust then be betrayed. Yeah, that's life. His life anyway.
Without even realizing it, he dodged a running someone on his right. Sharply turning a left then oof! He was unlucky to miss this someone on his left. The impact had thrown him off balance as he landed on his butt. The newspaper continously rolling on the floor, away from him.
Without a second, he was back to his feet and uncontrollably staring at the familiar girl dusting off herself. She looked up to him, incidentally staring at his emotion-emptied eyes and that was when he realized how alluring those pair of eyes were. It was an interestingly bizarre shade of amethyst.
"Sorry." She fidgeted, suddenly amazed by her own feet.
A word. Just a single, non-passionate, non-seductive word, and Danny concluded that he would absolutely have an unforgettable time here in Casper high. Things would be
sickeningly twisted.
But before all of that, he would certainly had to ask for this girl, this mysteriously pretty girl's name.
And with that, he gave her his best, forced smile. "I'ts alright. I'm fine."
He instantly flashed a friendly angelic face and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Danny."
The girl stared at it for seemed like a hundred hours then finally extended her own hand and made a nice fast shake."Sam" She hesitated. "Sam Manson."
Two persons in one day. Not that half bad.Danny thought grimly. But of course, if anything could go wrong, it certainly would. He was two hundred percent sure about that.
---.....----DP
I know, another really long chapter. But like every other authors in , I'm hoping readers will like it.
(*And, as for Playing with a Deadly Virus, still in hiatus, process of rewriting it.)