Pace to the left of the room. Pace to the right. Pace to the front of the room. Pace to the back. I glanced at my homework. I couldn't touch it. I was worried over Jay, cursing Tucker, thinking about . . . him.

His name was a taboo to me. I couldn't speak it, think it, see it, hear it. I'd rather be quartered a million times over than hear it. The pain was just too great. He'd hurt me in the worst way possible. Destroyed me on the inside. It cut me to the core. I looked in the mirror.

I didn't even look like myself anymore. I'd given up on myself. I was still a vegetarian, but, I didn't argue, didn't dress the way I used too. I was still sarcastic when I felt like it. I was a different person. Brown contacts covered my amythest eyes. Brown hair dye covered my natural black. I was wearing a blue top and a matching blue skirt that fell just past my knees. I still wouldn't wear pink. But, this is who I was now. I caused no problems.

Who I was is just . . .

Gone

***

I hate english. It's the one class where nothing happens so you have time to think. I hate thinking because my mind always returns to her. Her smile. Her eyes. Her voice. I yelped, sitting straight up instead of slouching.

Tucker's phone call! The tone of his voice! He used it when arguing with her! I had to get who he was talking to out of him, even if I was sure I already knew.

"Mr Fenton?" Called the teacher.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for paying attention. This is the project that will pass for half your grade." I hoped that this was the introduction, because if not, I was royally screwed.

"It will be a poem." Crap. I can write for the life of me. If it was an essay I just messed around with words I found off the internet, but this way I actually had to work. It sucked. "But not just any poem." Double crap. "I have gotten permission from some talented poets and gotten poem beginnings from their point of view. Your job is to finish it in theirs." Lovely. "Every single one is different, so know copying." How does she have time to come up with all of this? I got handed a sheet and stuffed it in my bookbag without a second glance.

I stared at the clock. We were supposed to be getting started but there was only five minutes until the rest of the day. The teacher came over.

"Danny, I heard that you were feeling troubled, and, I think this poem will really fit how your feeling."

"Thanks Mrs. Cassire."

"No problem, just come to me if you have any difficulties."

"Will do," I told her. I picked up my bookbag, slung it over my shoulder and just as I opened the door, the bell rang. Perfect timing once again.

***

I threw my pencil across the room in frustration. These math problems were so confusing! I hated math, most of all, I hated how I hated math and he hated math and we were together in math. UGH! This always comes back to him. I wish it wouldn't yet, I always hope it does.

I've been without him for a year. Hating being alone, loving being away from him. He's the whole reason behind this, but, what I wouldn't give to just see him, just one more time. Of course, now he's probably forgotten about me. Moved on. I wonder if he ever got together with Valerie? Or if somehow he made Paulina notice him? I wonder if Tucker ever asked out Jazz like he planned too, or if he even told Danny how he liked her?

STOP! I scolded myself. They're in the past. Try looking toward the future. I closed my eyes, thinking of my future, and his face came into my mind. Absentmindedly I wondered how different he'd look, or if he still looked the same.

I picked up the phone to call Tucker again.

***

"Tucker, who were you talking to?" I asked as we walked to the Nasty Burger.

"Tucker can't say."

"If Danny threatens to do something very painful to Tucker can Tucker say?" I asked, wondering why we were talking about ourselves in third person.

"Possibly." Tucker now looked at me warily. We grabbed our burgers and sat at our usual table. We didn't sit at the booth now, no one was allowed to since there was a picture of Danny Phantom sitting in it. The booth was considered off limits now.

Tucker lazily tossed his phone and PDA on the table. "What's Danny planning on doing?"

"D-" I was cut off by the ringing of the phone. I picked it up, more than likely it would be Jazz looking for me.

"Hello?" I asked. Silence, then a click.

"Who was it?" Tucker asked, looking ready to bolt.

"I dunno, they just hung up on me." I answered, looking at his last calls. They started from early this morning. "Why did you mom call you four times this morning?" Tucker went pink.

"No reason."

Uh-huh. Like I believed that, but whatever. The call from lunch was made from a hospital payphone. Odd. The last call was from a . . . a Manson residence.

"So who was it?" Tucker asked, stealing some of my fries.

"Her."

"It's not going to kill you to say her name." Tucker rolled his eyes.

"It just might." I whispered, then turned to a lighter note. "What poem did you get in english?"

"It was really crappy, I think a three year old wrote it."

"At least it'll match up to your writing level." I commented.

"Give it up! Wanna hear it?"

"Sure." I shrugged, might as well.

He cleared his throat and began.

"Never before had I thought it possible,

That I could be so Alone.

I once thought that they'd always be here,

No matter what went wrong.

But now I see the mistake I made,

Without admitting it was done."

"So, what're you going to write for it?"

"Dunno, what would you write for it? Wait, scratch that, what do you think it means?"

"I think the person had some people close to them, and now they're all gone. Killed or something. Who wrote it, is there a name?" I answered without thinking.

"Nice answer, and it's only signed by, Jaybird. What's your poem like?"

"Do you actually think I read it?" Tucker shook his head sadly.

"After you ran out so quickly Mrs Cassire made an announcement." I raised my eyebrows, waiting for more. "We're going to meet the authors of these poems. So, that'll be fun."

"Yeah a joy."

"Maybe you'll meet a girl." I scowled, and blue mist came out of my mouth. I transformed and went after Ember, beating the ghost girl to a pulp.

"Then again, maybe not." Finished Tucker.

***

Oh me god. Oh me god. Oh me god. I was freaking out. Panicking. I call Tucker, and who picks up the phone? Him. The sound of his voice shut me down. I didn't hang up on him, I was meaning to disguise my voice and talk (scream) at Tucker, but, I dropped the phone. The battery fell out, and beep. Conversation over.

Now, there's no way I'll risk calling back.

I began to pace again, staring out the window, going downstairs, making dinner. Going back upstairs, watching the sunset. Staring at the clock. I watched the numbers change. Eight o'clock.

Eleven o'clock.

One o'clock.

I picked up a book, just to drop it again. I began to brush my hair, only to put the brush back. I went to run a bath, and the drained the tub again. I picked up my pencil to draw, the tapping filling the silent room. Nothing came to mind. I paced the room.

I tried getting under the covers, laying my head on the pillow. Only to stand a few minutes later, pacing again, trying to outrun his face. I turned on the news, only to hear Phantom and Amity. I clicked it off again before I saw the face I so desperately wanted to see.

Three o'clock in the morning.

Four o'clock.

Four thirty.

I fell on my bed. Wanting so badly to surrender to memories. But, only one thought ran through my head. If I can't sleep, is he able to?

***

I shook out the Fenton thermoses. Skulker. Ember. Desiree. Walker. Vlad. Shudder there. Freakshow. Honest Hannah. Johnny Thirteen. Johnny Thirteen's shadow. Johnny Thirteen's girlfriend. What a day.

Jeez, it was eight o'clock already. I padded upstairs to get something to eat. Only to find I couldn't, thanks to my parents ectoplasmic culinary skills. Everything was running around on fifteen little black legs.

I went up to my room. Soon someone tapped on the door. "Danny," Jazz.

"Please don't tell me it's morning already," I groaned, still exhausted. But, if it was, then I'd actually spent a whole night without pacing around the room, agitated, trying to keep my mind away from her.

"No, it's not." What a let down.

"Then whaddaya want?" I grumbled into my pillow. Jazz opened the door and shut it behind her to drown out the battlecries of our parents. "When will they learn not to cook?" I rolled my eyes as she gave a little laugh. She had a serious look on her face, and her emotions practically screamed time-for-another-physcological-exam-for-Danny. Lovely. Just what I love.

"Danny, Tucker talked to me today." Remind me to stuff him in a Fenton Thermos if possible. "He told me what he said to you, and what you said. And what you did to Ember."

"I honestly did not mean to make her break the building, I just sort of threw her, and she forgot to go intangible . . ." I trailed off, realizing Jazz didn't care.

"Danny, it's been a year. Three hundred and sixty five days."

I shook my head. "It's actually been three hundred ninety two days, four hours, seven minutes and twenty eight seconds." I paused, "Well, it's been that long since I found out she left. I think she actually left a day earlier. So three hundred ninety three days."

"Danny, that's sad that you know that. Sa-"

I screamed at her, "DO NOT SAY HER NAME!"

"See, this is what we're all talking about. You're obsessed with her." I started to cut her off. "Shh. I know that since you became half-ghost," From downstairs Dad yelled ghost and mom yelled mutant bologna ghost, "You nature may have become more obsessive. But let go of Sam already. You made the choices you did, and I think Tucker may have been right."

"I know he was Jazz. It's my fault that she left. My fault that I don't have her anymore. I have been beating myself up over that long before Tucker pointed it out. What I said to her, it tore me to pieces to just say it, so imagine her hearing them. And, what she said to me when I saw her for the last time." I squeezed my eyes tight, but tears still escaped.

"Oh, Danny. Just let go already. Move on. She probably has." This thought had never occurred to me before. I think I was thinking that if I was suffering she was too.

"You think she's moved off to I don't know where and met another guy?" I demanded. Maybe obsessive didn't cover it. Obsessive and possessive.

"Danny, I didn't mean that, I just meant-" But I went ghost and slipped through the wall. I had to see Tucker.

I know Sam parts are shorter than Danny parts right now. Deal with it, because I don't care if you've got a problem with it. I did write Tucker's poem, I know it's awful, but oh, well. Honest Hannah is a ghost of my creation. Read Pointless to know more about her. Poem belongs to nolapeep. Danny Phantom belongs to some other guy. Yadda yadda yadda. Blah blah blah. I have some Danny Phantom summaries that I'm willing to hand out if anyone needs something to write. Just pm me. Ideas are appreciated, you'll get your credit. Complaints ignored unless it's in the form of constructive criticism. Reviews motivate me.

~DI4MGZ~