A/N:
Hello Readers! For those of you that just want to get right to the chapter, go right on ahead! I'm just going to spend some time replying to the reviews I've received!
In addition, thank you to any and all Readers that have read through this fanfiction! I am truly blessed that you have spent your time on a work of mine! Or, well a work of somebody else's work?
Daydreamer: I'm grateful that you enjoyed the earlier version of this fanfiction, and I can not thank you enough for the kind words! I will make it my personal goal to make this rewrite better than the original. That, I promise to you!
HalfaObsessed: Thank you for the compliments, Halfa! Vlad plays a significant role in this story just as any other DP Fic. I think you might like how things will go with him!
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, and that's probably for the best. Danny Phantom is the creation and property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.
First Day Blues
"First day, how bad can it be?" Danny kept repeating the reassuring words under his breath. But his mantra was becoming less effective after each recitation.
It was the first day of September, the flame from summer was burning its last light, but that didn't stop the - now high school - students of Casper High from wearing their summer attire. That was one thing he couldn't stand, the warm, sticky feeling of the business casual shirt practically imprinting itself on his back like a tattoo.
But all things considered, it was a beautiful day.
Tucker looked both ways. "This is where the next four years of our lives will be. Kind of small, though, don't you think?" Even if the smile was as bright as the Sun, Danny could tell that his friend was nervous just from how his fingers were fiddling with the few empty pockets of his cargo pants.
Danny shivered and hugged himself, remembering that he had the ETF belt around his waist. "Kind of hard to believe it. I mean, four years, jeez!" His eyes were set at the entrance upon the sound of the bell's shrill signal. Motivated by the sight of the students filling up the hallways, Danny and Tucker followed, albeit slowly.
"Well, actually, it might not be so bad." Danny thought for a moment, scratching his chin. "My sister's always said great things about this place." He turned to Tucker, the boy was still fiddling with his pockets. "Tucker, you okay? I thought I would be a nervous wreck here!" Danny jested, in hopes it would take his friend out of the state of shock he was momentarily in.
Luckily, it did just that.
"No man, it's your sister, that's making me a little scared. I mean, no one can possibly be that excited for school!" As they neared the school, Danny took in the details from the front. It was a modest sized school, one of the few points of importance in the small city of Amity Park. Even for its generic structure, the high school had quite the history, specifically The Ravens, Casper High's football team.
"I guess." Danny agreed, his interest taken away by the change in environment. Organized yet chaotic, students walked in their respective factions. The cliquey jocks had already started their crusade on harassing the geeks, girls seemed to be talking about the latest album from their favorite band, and Danny and Tucker remained as the outcasts.
"Yo! It's Fen-Toenail!" A familiar nasal voice shouted across the halls, followed by a barrage of laughter. Dash slapped the back of Danny's head, causing the raven-haired boy to shake his head like a bobble head.
Surprisingly (and thankfully) Dash and the rest of his football cronies had left the two boys, debating on who to mess with next. It seemed like the future-Ravens were hunting early this season.
"Well, it seems like some things don't change." Danny grumbled, his enthusiasm declining at the thought of living through a generic high school movie for the next four years of his life. "Even though I'm not sure why he didn't slap you in the back of the neck."
Tucker smirked triumphantly
As if on queue, Kwan came sprinting back to the two boys, almost panting. "Oh man, I almost forgot!" He clapped his hand on the back of Tucker's neck. "By the way, nice seeing you two again!" The uncharacteristically cheerful football player jogged his way back to his team, but not without waving back at the two boys.
Tucker whimpered. "You just had to say that, didn't you?"
Danny blushed, deciding it was better to not rub his neck after what had happened to Tucker. "Heh, sorry! Guess I have the big mouth this time!"
Tucker was about to retort until something had taken his attention. Next to the two boys was a large group of students, all crowding around a table with stacks of papers piled on top of them. They had spent a good minute trying to elbow their way through the crowd until they found out that the papers were their schedules.
Danny scratched his head, smiling. "Man, this is… yeah." He frowned, there was a conspicuous lack of classes he had with Tucker. It was almost as if the school was already trying to purge the weak by separating them.
Tucker nodded. "Only English, Earth Sciences, and lunch together. Seems like a bit of bummer, but it's better than nothing!" He said in a cheerful tone.
"Yeah! Speaking of which, shouldn't we be heading to English?" Danny glanced at the paper again, the light above shining on the name 'Mr. Lancer'. "Lancer? My sister talks about him all the time."
"He a good teacher?"
"Hardworking, but other than that, I'm not too sure. Apparently, he shouts curses through book titles."
Tucker gave him a strange look. "Sounds funny, but why's that?"
"Usually when someone messes up or something bad happens."
"Huh, strange."
Danny rolled his eyes. Having a belt bound to your waist was even stranger; he could only hope to pry the damn thing off sooner or later.
Wrong To None
First period, English class with Mr. Lancer. The class couldn't have been more varied, with the A-Listers making it clear that the far right corner was their part of the room, and other students making a mad dash for their own pseudo-territories, it was almost like a grand strategy game cranked up to eleven. For Danny and Tucker, the two boys were more than happy to find some seats in the back.
Mr. Lancer had taken his sweet time to walk in the room. Danny thought it was a smart move since no teacher wants to see their students get trampled while searching for seats.
"Hello class, my name is Mr. Lancer. I will be your English teacher for the next four years of your time in Casper High." He sighed, chewing on his lip for a moment. "Of course, I'm sure you're all wondering about why this is the case. To give you the shortest answer possible: budget cuts. I will not only be your English teacher, but your Vice Principal as well.
The man tossed a bundle of files onto the table, the simple gesture was enough to instill fear in the remaining students who hadn't been shocked by his simple statement. The teacher was like an interrogator, ready to fire off questions asking each of the students what their darkest secrets were. Despite it all, he simply took a sip of the coffee that was settled on his desk
He was middle-aged, the shining bald spot on his head proving this. The only remains of hair were the stubble on his chin. As laborious as his actions were, and as overweight as he was, the students couldn't help but feel a sense of commitment radiating from the man.
Danny bit down his teeth. He was going to get an 'A' in English this year, he knew it for sure. Just like Tucker said: 'new year, new you!'
"Of course, you need not worry about me. Writing is something that takes time, patience, and feedback. And just as how one can improve upon writing, I wish to improve with my abilities as a teacher. In other words: I hope that my students can learn as much from me as I learn from them."
Danny smiled, his muscles relaxing, finally settling into the seat like every other student. From what he was hearing, Lancer seemed like a great teacher. Someone who could sympathize with his students.
Of course, anything that was going great usually backfired.
"Now, although this may seem overwhelming, I want to make sure I know where all of you are at when it comes to assignments." He drew out what seemed to be a book from a drawer. Waving it in the air, he said in a proud tone. "This is William Shakespeare's Macbeth. One of my personal favorites, it tells an important story of ambition and the price that one must pay for it, like a double-edged sword."
A pile of the same copy of Macbeth was now in his hands.
Oh no, please don't be what I'm thinking.
"Yes, this is exactly what you're all thinking; I am assigning you to read the first act of Macbeth and to provide a written analysis by Friday." He was just about to sit down before he mentioned one last thing. "Oh, and your partners will be the students sitting next to you, I find that favoritism and preferences to students show a lack of concentration and communication. It will allow you to be acquainted with your colleagues. Thank you, and good luck."
Danny turned his head right, one of the guys was already talking with the girl to his right. Looking ahead of him, Tucker was already trying to chat up one of the girls, and for once, it seemed like he had her for the next thirty minutes of class.
He turned to his left, Samantha Manson was quietly minding her own business in the private corner of her's. Her, the girl from an affluent family.
Danny didn't know if it was adrenaline or if he was just being stupid, but there was feeling inside of him, a chance that he could actually make a friend this year. He didn't have the ambition nor the inertia that Tucker possessed when it came to trying to find a girlfriend, but his friend was right about one thing, things could change this year!
He willed himself, surprised he could even string together a sentence. "Hi, Sam, I just wanted to know if you wanted to work with me on the assignment. I'm Danny - if you didn't know, that is."
Samantha tilted her head in what seemed to be confusion, but the way her eyes shot up showed that she understood his intentions. Or so he thought. "Look, just because I am who I am doesn't mean you can waltz on over and slack off on an assignment. And back off, will you?" She brushed the shoulder of her shirt, as if just his presence was tainting the white cloth.
Danny's heart rate skyrocketed. "I was j-just asking if you wanted to work together." His eyes darted around the room, looking for something to look at other than the girl he had just managed to upset.
"Huh, oh of course. And my name's Samantha, not Sam. Okay? " Samantha muttered the last words with an extra dose of venom, but surprisingly, her voice shook at the mention of her supposed nickname. She turned her gaze towards the window, effectively terminating the conversation.
Danny felt like a blanket made out of pure sweat had just wrapped around him. His cheeks raged red at the thought of being embarrassed in front of everyone. Luckily, the one saving grace was that the only person to notice the seconds long conversation was Tucker, wincing at what he had just witnessed.
Seeming like finding a partner was a lost cause, Danny turned his attention to the copy of Macbeth lying in front of him. Flipping through, he found that most of the pages were torn or shredded, scribbled with crude comments and jokes. Probably from some student that was bored out of their minds.
He glared down at the book, finger outlining the torn remains of the front page. His hand clutched a page in the play, crumpling in his grip.
His anger was diverted to the popular clique of students. He was starting to realize that maybe being an outcast wasn't so bad. Why do they have to be so rude? Just because they have more money, or that they're smarter doesn't mean they have to-.
The vibrations from the belt surged through his body, stinging cold sensations on his stomach. His belly wouldn't stop sinking and rising with each gale. Before he knew it, the whole class had set their gaze upon him.
"-Hahahaha!... Wha?" He asked as soon as the oscillations ceased.
"Mr. Fenton, I don't remember Macbeth being a comedy."
Damage Records
"Yeesh, between girls and ghosts. Girls are way scarier. " Tucker jested, elbowing a moodless Danny. The techno-geek had given a good five minutes for his friend to stop moping around, and as per usual, it seemed like he was going to have to get him back into action.
"Yeah, real funny, Tucker." Danny squinted his eyes, watching carefully as the beaker was filled with the white liquid.
"Sorry, too soon." Tucker patted Danny's shoulder, disrupting the boy's concentration. "I just want you to know that there are plenty of fish in the sea! I have to give it to you, though, asking under the guise of working on an assignment, pretty good my man."
"No! I did not talk to her for that reason!"
"Okay, okay, you tell yourself that, Romeo." Tucker teased, a smile growing on his lips.
The beaker nearly slipped past Danny's fingers. The belt acting up in English class had cost him the initial trust of his teacher and the anonymity from being noticed by his classmates. Then again, Samantha Manson was a stupid decision on his part.
"In all seriousness though," Tucker added. "I also saw some weird things happen. You know that ghost alarm program my parents uploaded into my PDA?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"The ghost alarm went off at the same time when you started laughing."
"Wait, what? Are you really sure?"
"I mean, with all the things that's going on, I wouldn't count ghosts out of the picture at this point. I mean, if your maniacal laughter isn't linked to my PDA, then that's some pretty lucky timing."
Danny grunted under his breath. "Seems like there's more to it than I thought."
"The plot thickens." Tucker jested, adjusted his goggles, his fingers tapping at the black desk. "Still weird though, all this stuff we found."
"Yeah… My parents ar-weren't the best at hiding their love for ghosts… or, hunting ghosts, you know?"
"Like The Ham?"
"Shhhh, don't talk about it!"
Tucker chuckled at the joyride Danny's father had went on with the Fenton's convertible station. Those two were absolutely incredible when it came to designing. He only wished they were more open with their design notes. His eyes widened. That's it!
"Hey, Danny, you know how you said your parents always hid all their classified stuff around the house?"
"Yeah, but I think we've found everything there is to it."
"You sure there wasn't a room that we missed?"
Danny thought hard for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if it would awaken some forgotten memory. "Now that I think of it. The arsenal at my parent's room is something we haven't seen. Ever."
Tucker grinned. "Let's get some tools ready today."
Surprisingly, Danny smiled. "Even if this belt has its problems, it's probably the coolest invention my parents ever created. Who knows what could be on the other side! - Oh!"
The beaker finally fell from Danny's shaky hands. Luckily, Tucker was able to snatch it right out of the air, returning it back to Danny.
"Thanks." Danny rubbed his neck.
"No problem."
Before Danny could continue pouring out the liquid, Danny started to giggle again, hugging his sides as he shook like a pair of maracas. Accompanying the ceaseless giggling was the sound of glass shattering.
"Mr. Fenton. My my, a beaker broken already. And it seems quite hysterical to you, hm?" Mrs. Arlene crossed her arms, bugged by the fact that Danny was too busy wheezing from the belt.
Tucker's smile faltered into a painful wince. Maybe it was better that they only had three class together.
Fudgebar
The rest of the day had passed just like any other. Thanks to teachers giving out the obligatory syllabus at the start of the year, Tucker had sent several texts to Danny in his current laughing fit from the belt. Holding in his breath had only earned him the strangest looks from his colleagues, pinching himself had only gotten a yelp instead of a laugh, and singing the ABC's backward made him feel more like an alien than a ghost.
In other words, his high school career and reputation was barely hanging on by a thread.
However, the idea of sneaking into his parent's bedrooms was both intriguing and terrifying. With a belt like this, who knew what other things they could have hidden. Jazz had once told him that she thought her parents were the head of a ghost hunting cult, but the theory was debunked as they both agreed on the fact that their parents would have scared off the most hardened cult members.
Even then, it didn't hurt to try, to see that inside life of his parents when he was already exposed to so much of their passion and career. Furthermore, it gave him time to work on his English homework while Tucker was working.
"Alright, let's crack this thing open." Tucker cracked his fingers and wiggled them before looking upon the keypad. He turned to Danny without pressing a single button. "Alright, I give up."
"So soon?" Danny chuckled at Tucker's sudden change in attitude. At least there was one good thing to come out of this.
"I wouldn't be laughing either you know, because 'fudge' isn't going to fit into three characters."
"Hah-wait, what?"
"Yep," Tucker affirmed.
Danny shook his head before glancing down at the keypad. Tucker was right, good ol' fudge wasn't going to work this time. His fingers hovered over one of the keys, pulling back at the thought of triggering some kind of alarms. His parents weren't ones to keep secrets, and even the belt had an obvious password to it. The arsenal, however, was a different story.
"Jeez, for a bunch of Fenton Thermoses, this seems like overkill, even for my parents." Danny scratched his neck.
His eyes widened. He had never felt more stupid at realizing that he had something that would aid him in situations like these. Danny's hand slid down to the buckle on his belt, pressing it.
"Even if my parents are good at stopping their teenage kids from finding whatever it is inside this vault." Danny grinned, the cool feeling of the ectoplasmic mold growing on his body. Sensations traveled through him, raising every hair with a chill.
Tucker's congratulatory clap only fueled Danny's ego more. Luckily, there was always something to-literally-shoot it down. From the most bizarre places imaginable, several chrome-colored auto-turrets were trained at Danny's head.
The cowering display of his hands would have made a poor shield had he not felt another cool wave wash over his body. His arms that were shielding him now became transparent. Unfortunately, the quick save hadn't stopped the hair trigger of the mounted weapons, as shots were hammered away at his last known location.
He flew for the vault, ignoring Tucker's overdramatic screams for help.
For all the work he had gone through, he could confidently say that this was by far the most bizarre thing he had ever seen.
Crammed in every crevice and corner of the dank vault were photos of Maddie and Jack Fenton, from when they were kids, to college, and finally, their marriage and beyond. But there was one photo that didn't have just the two of them. It was gathering dust, but it was clear as day for who it was.
It was them. The whole family. Danny, Maddie, Jack, Jasmine, Tucker, and Vlad all huddled together for a group photo.
In an instant, his heart melted, nostalgic feelings overtaking his body. The way how Jazz's hair was frizzled from the latest experiment, or how Vlad jokingly put bunny ears over Tucker before his growth spurt. Everything was at it should be. As it should have been.
He set the photo down, dusting off the pockets of dust that now clung to his gloves. Looking down, he barely managed to whisper the words out.
"I'm sorry…"
His eyes closed. The ecto-rounds ran dry from the turrets, eerie silence filling the vaulted room. He began to sense something within him. All of this: this obsession with the dead, to hunt them, to teaching their own children of their supposed 'profession'. Perhaps it was all for a reason? He couldn't fathom the idea of his parents protecting people, but these strange occurrences, the belt, it was all for something much bigger than he could have hoped.
His parents, dead as said by Vlad, his step-mother, and even his own sister had even accepted their demise. But nobody disappears just like that.
His tightened his grip with the photo.
"Hey, Danny! The, uh, weapons stopped. But there's a bigger problem, and I don't think you'll like it." Tucker called. Danny cocked his head towards the vault door, phasing through to see the carnage left due to his ghostly presence.
Danny remembered that the weapons didn't cause severe damage to structure depending on their intensity, but what he did remember was that ectoplasmic weapons had a tendency to burn things, especially paper. From the spots of black covering the room, Tucker held up the charred remains of the homework Danny had brought along with them.
"You could always copy off of me." He winced, the paper dissipating into dust. "I guess you could call this a real tragedy… Uh, too soon?"
"No..." Danny gave one last look at the damaged papers. He turned his wounded gaze to the vault, staring longingly at it. "Maybe a bit bittersweet, though."
Danny looked at the remains of his homework. Ironically enough, the copy of Macbeth should have been the easiest to hit but was merely covered in ash. "So, homework, right?"
Samantha Manson
Hands splayed over the sheets of papers, slithering underneath her arms as she reached for another pencil to sharpen. The recently broken tip was rolling in arcs on the mahogany table, leaving a faint trace on one of the sheets of paper.
She glanced at it, a tight-lipped scowl forming. Waste of paper, waste of time, and waste of energy. Her nails dug into the paper as she crushed it, tossing it to the collective pile lying next to the recycling bin brimming with crumpled sketches.
Samantha sighed. She'd have to transfer the bin later, it wasn't lady-like to have a messy room.
Her pink-polished nails dug in once more, but this time it wasn't paper. It was her skin. Cursing at the pain buzzing on her palm. No blood thankfully, mother would have thrown a fit at seeing it.
If she was even here…, Sam mused, looking down at her bloodless, lifeless, albino hands. Smooth as the coquinas in Shark Bay, her fingers were just like her complexion; the sketches were drawn with unrivaled precision, rendering an almost life-like showcase of a gothic cathedral, lofty and grandeur. The head's of gargoyles were decayed, some with unhinged jaws, others without eyes.
Her fingers twitched, her instincts screamed for her to rip it apart like all the rest. It wasn't that it felt contrived, but it was different. Different was awful, that's what she had said, and that's what Sam had to listen to.
She sighed, letting the paper slide under the thin pile of papers underneath an aging book on ghosts. She was about to take the paperweight and throw it out the window, but it was no use. Mainly because school had begun, and keeping her sanity would prove to be the biggest challenge of all.
Through all this resistance, she couldn't fight back one small, stupid thing when everything else was nagging at her mind.
The tears. Wet, salty, disgusting. A single drop ran down her cheek, but she wasn't broken, nor did she want to bawl. She scowled and scrubbed her arm past her face to wipe it away. A curse was about to slip past her lips until she heard the low moan of the door being opened.
Her father.
Jeremy Manson
Jeremy wheeled through the cheery-red hues of the wooden floor, nearly spotless despite how many winters had passed for the old home. Frescoes and paintings conquered the hallways and ceilings above, not a single part of the wall was left without marking of paint on it.
He never could quite understand all of it, something his wife and daughter agreed upon. But it didn't deter him from enjoying the artworks laid about. Such as the one of Lake Michigan, when he had proposed to Pamela, or the raven that loomed over the door to Sam's room.
Jeremy pushed the wheels forward, the aging wood gently creaked at the sudden push.
He scratched at his long streaks of blonde hair, eyes gazing at the back of his daughter's bowl cut hair.
"Sam?" The question had been enough to spur a response from Sam. One that made no sense.
"Wha-?" She was wearing a red skirt and white shirt, a pink scrunchie coupled up some of her hair. "Sorry, da-.. Father, I was busy with something."
Jeremy nodded, shooting one of his welcoming smiles, something war had - thankfully - not taken away from him. "I can tell - sorry for intruding by the way. I just wanted to… check in, you know? See how my best daughter is doing!" He wheeled forward until he was sitting at her side.
Her eyes darted towards his, showing the sheer disinterest she had. "Father, I'm you're only daughter."
"Right, right." Jeremy bit his lip and moved back, reminding himself to take things slow with her. The room, Sam's room, was something to uphold whether it be in a positive or negative light. Pamela called it"ambiguity". Every stroke was of a different quality, some sharp, others smudges. Some were of a faint, subtle nature while others were bold and contrasted despite being fewer in numbers. Black and purple mixed with red and blue. People would consider vomiting with their eyes at the sight, or they would think it was a unique take on the abstract.
Whatever it was, Jeremy knew for a fact that he was dealing with a teenager.
He finally spoke up, "So, how has school been?"
Sam turned, a glint in her eyes. "It's been well, father, the art classes have been well, even if I don't really agree with the teaching methods of our teacher. But, I wanted to ask." She faced the window again, her head looking down at the sketchbook.
"When's mother coming back?" The question had a finality that even Jeremy couldn't answer to with a joke. He hated it, and he hated himself because of it.
He attempted to move forward, but an elbow jutted out by Samantha. Damn it, Sam, he swallowed, wheeling back to where he was.
"She'll be here soon, I promise, Sam." He smiled momentarily. "I could judge your art critique on… Capasso? I've finally got some free time from work." A finger was pointed at the pile of papers, although he couldn't tell them apart from compositions or sketches.
Sam fought but gave in to a small giggle. She snorted at her father's comment. "Picasso. And yeah, I'd love for you too."
"That's great." He said, rotating his chair to face the papers, all chock full of teacher's signatures. From his perspective, it seemed like the teachers were getting more sophisticated with their syllabi.
"How's school so far? Freshmen year's a big thing." From the faintest reflections the window gave off, Jeremy could see his daughter scowling at the question.
"It's choking with spoiled and shallow kids," Samantha said with an extra dose of venom.
Jeremy stooped in his seat a little, the air of hypocrisy was so strong that it was literally choking him. The flat screen, the assortment of high-end art utensils, and the new laptop he had bought for her fourteenth birthday were all laid about, scattered about like the shrapnel of a grenade.
In spite of it all, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose we really need to stop speaking with the Sanchez family, and then some. Trust me, I don't like their type as much as you, but don't you think you should, I don't know, consider getting new friends?"
Samantha paused for a moment and adjusted the beret on her head. "I… don't know." She adjusted the beret on her head.
Jeremy placed a hand on her's. He shivered, never expecting her to have hands so cold and clammy as others. "Sam, listen, I really think you should start to space yourself away from those kids. I don't understand why you just don't leave them behind. I would have taken the chance in a heartbeat."
She said nothing.
"I even think this whole… 'change' should end here. Because let me be real with you, this style you've got going? Doesn't sound like my daughter at all." He wore a solemn expression on his face, his eyes refused to look at anything other than Samantha.
Samantha's lips parted, she contemplated several times what to say, making her look like a fish out of water. Jeremy had thought that he had finally broken through, but the second she muttered a half-finished response, her eyes darted to the corner of her room. Jeremy heard something groan. From nowhere, a large, black, bulbous thing rolled around on its stomach in a laborious nature. Her deus ex machina had arrived.
"Oh! Looks like Leo wants dinner early today!" She scooped the cat up from the ground, a finger rubbing circles on its back as she left the room in haste. Leo purred affectionately at being held in Sam's arm. As Jeremy scooted out of the way, he could hear a wet sound underneath one of the wheels. After repositioning, he found it stained with a vile mix of hair and cat food.
He winced. Although he liked the fact that Samantha saved the cat, he couldn't quite say the same for the furballs that thing left behind. "Why do I even bother." Thin laughter sounded from his mouth, but even his uplifting self frowned in thought.
Maybe reading up on the Picasso guy would help him. After all, he wasn't the most artistic of people.
The Foley's
"You boys always come to dinner late! You worry me too much." The African women smiled despite the chiding remark. She pushed her glasses up after placing the dishes in front of the boys.
Danny rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging on his lips. "Sorry about that Mrs. Foley. I was helping Tucker work on a project for school."
The women gave a comforting smiling. "No need to explain, Danny, but if there is a time where you'll be late for curfew, just let me know ahead of time, m'kay?"
"Yes, ma'am." Danny and Tucker said in unison.
"Not that I have to worry about you two passing curfew." She set her gaze upon Jazz, giving the two boys a knowing look. "Seeing as one of us has such an excellent track record, I'm sure you boys will behave just as well."
"Mrs. Foley." Jazz playfully rolled her eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks at the compliment. Danny shifted uncomfortably at hearing his sister address the older women. Around the time after their parent's disappearance, she had packed up and was ready to leave, almost as if she knew the tragedy was going to happen. But she didn't know, and even then she didn't show a hint of emotion on her face.
He could never hate her, but there were times he doubted the fact that she was his sister.
"Speaking of which. How was your first day of school?"
Goosebumps formed along Danny's hands. The whole talk of change was tempting, but as far as he could see it, the only promising thing in high school was Mr. Lancer and even then Danny had already burned the small trust they had together.
"I'm not so sure. It's my first year in high school. My pa-, people never told me a lot. Just that people choose their paths now." His eyes fearfully stared at his sister, seemingly oblivious to the mistake he had made. It was for a moment that Danny wished he had mentioned his dad's famous words: "School is for chumps."
Mrs. Foley tilted her head downward. Her aging, playful eyes becoming intrigued by his answer. Almost analyzing it for all that it was worth. "Quite the pressure to live up to. I can see someone took that lesson to heart." She glanced at a now preoccupied Jazz, feeding herself as she eyed the closed book eagerly. A wave of nostalgia passed through her. The women's chin resting on a knuckle as she stared off-handedly at a wall decorated with photos of her youth. "It's an important and stressful four years, no doubt. But nothing ever comes without hard work and commitment, yes?"
Wonderful. From the solemn manner of how his step-mother spoke, Danny could just feel his shoulders giving in to the anonymous weight being pressed upon him. His lips pursed, the mushy meatloaf starting to seem like more unnecessary weight to his already burdened figure.
"Yeah, you're right." Underneath the table, his hand clenched into a fist, the photos flooding his mind again. He couldn't, he shouldn't think about it now. Especially when Mrs. Foley had her eyes set on him. Taking a deep breath, he grinned. "Can't get into NASA without graduating first."
"You'll do just fine in school, Danny. I met so many wonderful people there, including my husband!"
"Mom!" A bewildered Tucker had taken his eyes off the screen on his lap, looking furtively at his mother. The Foley matriarch chuckled and stood up, rubbing her hand against a napkin. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting started on the dishes. Feel free to finish whatever's left, and get a good night's sleep. M'kay?"
Danny had to give it to Mrs. Foley. To take care of three growing teenagers who were far from normal as they could get was definitely easier said than done. His mind had taken the moment of silence as a chance to look for any ways to remove the belt. Unfortunately, a tap on his shoulder tore him away from said thoughts.
"Danny." His sister whispered. "How was school? Sorry for not asking, you know." She pointed towards the pile of books on the couch.
Danny shrugged indifferently. "Pretty okay, you were right though about one thing."
Eyebrow cocked, she smirked. "I was? About what?"
"Mr. Lancer, he seems like a good teacher so far." Danny's tongue went numb at saying the name. After the giggling mess Danny became in his class, it was likely that Mr. Lancer did not share the same sentiments for his student.
"Oh yeah, after today, I think Mr. Lancer will love, Danny!" Tucker jested, elbowing the boy in question.
"He's one of the best English teachers ever!... Or the only English teacher, but you get what I mean!" Jazz was practically jumping in her seat, eyes glimmering with excitement. "Oh, this will be so great! You'll learn so much about Shakespeare's sonnets, and writers like Ernest Hemingway!"
"Heh, yeah. Writers." Danny tried his best to hide his - lack of - enthusiasm. In all honesty, when was he going to read a book when he became an astronaut? However, that wasn't to discredit Lancer, as he seemed much more helpful than Danny's past teachers.
"How's your project coming along Tucker?" Jazz now turned her attention to the geek.
He looked up from his PDA, frowning. "Not much progress, since school's been started, I've got to rearrange my schedule."
Jazz gave him a warm smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Oh, don't worry about it, Tucker. I'm always there if you need help with time-."
"-No, not that!" Tucker shook his head furiously. "I mean, I got to find a way to find someone to go with to Homecoming!"
The statement had flattened the smile Jazz had, and subsequently removed her hand from his shoulder. "Well, good luck to you, Tucker." Her blue eyes locked with Danny for a moment. "You wouldn't happen to fall in that category as well, hmm Danny?" She teased.
"What?! I would-."
"-Oh yeah, he was totally falling for a girl in English class." Tucker's big mouth had prevailed at the worst of times.
The sobering thought of Samantha Manson had turned Danny's cheeks into a red shade. "I-I was not!"
"Oooh, Danny this will be so beneficial to your social health!" Jazz was about to crush him in a hug when Danny had defensively held his hands up.
"She's uh, not interested, Jazz." The words stung him for some reason. He was not in any way interested in Samantha, but it left him feeling like a hand was wrapped around his throat.
"Aw, I'm sorry to hear. But remember there's always plenty of fish in the sea, just look at Tucker!" Jazz nonchalantly pointed at the tech geek in question.
"Hey!"
"Actually, I was going to say how I just asked-."
"-Any girl would be with a perfectly good looking guy like me-."
"-Tucker, listen, I'm not saying that girls don't find you attractive, but people have their preferences-"
"-But look at me! I'm charismatic, a team leader, and having looks like mine aren't that eas-."
"-Alright, this sounds like rationalizing on your part-"
Danny wasn't situated in between Jazz and Tucker, but he was definitely in the crossfire. Without bothering to throw his own two cents into the argument (which would be in favor of Jazz), he picked up his plate and left towards the kitchen, a pleasant Mrs. Foley scrubbing away at the dishes.
"I might have to get the rolling pin out if Tucker says one more thing about girls." Mrs. Foley jested, inspecting the item mentioned. "Everything alright, Danny?" She said as he placed his plates onto the rack.
"Yeah, Mrs. Foley. Just Jazz and Tucker arguing again, you know." He brushed his spiky hair back, getting a better view of the women to his side. He turned, about to leave, but he couldn't. What Mrs. Foley had said, about success, had crept its way back into his mind.
That belt, that stupid belt is going to be the death of me. He cursed the metallic device and all it stood for. As expected, the belt had nothing in response but a weak vibration. He turned back to Mrs. Foley, drawing in a breath. "Mrs. Foley. Could I ask you something?"
Her head turned, light glinting at the lens of her glasses. "Yes, dear?"
"When you talked about how high school was going to be about our future, and you said that we're all bound to succeed."
"Yes, did I say something to upset you, dear?"
"No, it's just that… What happens if we don't become what we wanted to be? What happens if we... " His lips quivered. "Failed?"
"Failed?" Danny had never expected Mrs. Foley to shove him, even if it was gentle. "Honey, nobody in the world has gone through life without failing something at least once. It's not meant to deter us, nor is it meant to drive us. It's just something that tells us to do better… I'm guessing you were thinking this because of your first day, right?"
"Yes…" Danny admitted, his head turned down. He hated that, the feeling of still acting like a kid, to rely on someone who wasn't even his own mother, to play the role. But inside, he could feel his heart grow warmer at the sound of her calm voice.
"There's something a lot of people never realize." She switched off the faucet. "People are afraid of failure. To the point where it becomes the reason why they succeed. I was one of those people. So remember this well, Danny, your goals are your reason to move forward in life, not the idea of being a failure in other's eyes. Understood?"
"You're right. Thank you, Mrs. Foley." He said, a confident smile growing on his face. He blushed, scratching the back of his neck. "Wow, that really helped." He whispered.
"That, it does." Mrs. Foley smirked, her arms crossed. "Now, what was this about you and a girl I heard about? What's the lovely ladies' name?"
"Mrs. Foley!" Danny's cheeks grew redder.
A boisterous laugh that could rival Tucker's, she wiped a single tear off her face. "I'm just kidding. Oh my! Kids these days."
A/N: (As with my other chapters, I will spend a few days to edit them if there are any glaring issues present).
As you can see, this isn't the most exciting chapter, but that's probably not what you're thinking right now. For instance, you're probably wondering what the hell did I do to Amity Park's local goth girl. Well, I wanted to try something different with Sam (or "Samantha" as she is called in this story). I know that the community has a very polarizing outlook on her, so writing her was a real thorn on my side. You wouldn't even imagine, haha!
That being said though, I wouldn't worry about Samantha... She'll grow, as every character does... And who knows, maybe she'll finally learn to "paint it black". Even if she is a bit of jerk to say the least when it comes to these beginning chapters!
This should also come up as a disclaimer: Yes, there is a small handful of OC's that will be present. They won't be main characters, but there will be a few chapters focused on them, whether it is in terms of perspective or not. I know this seems upsetting to some of you, but making a Mary Sue or a Gary Stew (whatever the Male counterpart is called) is the last thing I would ever want to do.
Have a lovely day/night everyone. We shall see where the Reset takes us this time.
