Hi people~

I've decided to stick with my original plan of no pairings. :P Thanks to an anonymous reviewer, who I have named "anonymous reviewer", (WHY DO YOU HAVE NO ACCOUNT BECAUSE I CANNOT REPLY D:) I was convinced to stick with the original plan because... well, there are more than enough Danny/Sam and Tucker/Jazz fanfictions out there and if you want a story with that, go and read that. xD Lawl.
Anyway, enjoy!


Chapter 4

From the moment he woke up, Danny had a terrible sense of foreboding. His brain was telling him to go back to bed, curl up and just stay away from everyone today.

Danny ignored it.

He hurried downstairs, tripping over himself in the process and fell flat on his face. It was painful. Then he got breakfast, and spilt milk down his pyjamas. He then hurried back upstairs and stubbed his toe on a step. Danny quickly got dressed, brushed his teeth while smashing a mirror, then hopped out of his window as Danny Phantom and flew to school. Then, he turned back into Fenton and walked into school, glad for it to be Wednesday and praying that the day would be over with as his sense of foreboding, as usual, had been very, very correct.

And then Dash spotted him.

Stomping over to the half ghost, Dash felt an overwhelming need to punch the little squirt down into the ground. So he did so.

But what he didn't expect was for Danny to fight back. Well, it wasn't really called fighting. But there were sarcastic comments galore.

"Oi, Fen-turd. What are you doing?" he catcalled across the corridor, quickly making people jump out of the way for him and his posse. "Hoping that you'll die so you'll be more popular in the ghost zone?" That earned a laugh.

Danny sighed heavily. "Look, Dash. Please, I'm really not in the mood today." Was that a... fruit-loop in Danny's hair? "Can you just push me into a locker and get it over and done with?"

Dash was stunned. In his entire fourteen years of living, Danny Fenton had not once said something back to the famous-yet-infamous quarterback. "Okay, Fen-Retard. I hope you're ready for a beating like the one you had yesterday, because you're getting it!" He lifted his fist up and aimed it at the dark haired boy's face. He pushed it out, expecting a cry of pain and a crunch, but instead there was -

Slap.

It was the most significant sound ever heard in the Casper High hallways. Because instead of taking the punch, like so many other days, Danny had in fact stopped it altogether. He had caught the punch.

"Look, Dash," Danny said pleasantly, "I'd really prefer it if you stopped beating me up very morning. It's not particularly enjoyable for me, and it'd be pretty nice if I didn't have bruises every single day when I get home from school."

"But you never have any bruises," Kwan contributed.

Danny grinned scarily and his eyes seemed to flash green. "Exactly."

Dash almost dropped him. "What are you saying, Fenton?"

"Well, let's just say that even after yesterday, I haven't any scabs on my face, have I?"

And with that revelation, Dash did drop Danny on the floor. The young half-ghost then hurried off to Science, praying that his morning couldn't get any worse.


Ironically, it got worse. After chatting with Sam and Tucker for a bit, waiting for the bell to ring and then walking slowly to Science, Danny was pushed into the room by Mr. Lancer, who was waiting outside.

When he entered the classroom, Danny was herded off to the front, where Star and Dash were both already waiting. Star was danging off Dash's arm like a sort of handbag, much to the annoyance of Paulina, who was glaring daggers at them both. Cujo was being released by one of the nerds and began to zoom around the classroom, yapping wildly. Danny's heart was pumping wildly; not in excitement, but in honest fear.

And just to top it off, Lancer ran into the room and started screaming at them all.

"HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS! EVERYONE APART FROM THE TEST SUBJECTS, SIT DOWN NOW!"

The whole class abruptly sat down, leaving Cujo to fly around Danny's head and then softly land in his hair.

Valarie was sending daggers to the puppy across the classroom. Danny shuddered; he was often on the receiving end of those hateful stares, but never as harmless, clumsy Danny Fenton before.
Lancer strode to the front of the classroom and began to glare down his students. "Well, class," he said immensely coldly "today we'll be getting the information we want from the test subjects. We'll be covering temperature, sporting ability and your reactions to the world around you."

"What about blood?" someone chipped in.

"I thought it better not to do that considering that Mr. Fenton was injured a few days ago. It wouldn't do well for him to loose too much blood."

Danny's pulse slowed a little. Thank goodness for that - they wouldn't be testing his blood. He had ectoplasm mixed in with there.

"However," Lancer continued, "instead, we will be doing pulse rates. This means I have some stopwatches here for you guys to use for the pulse rate and for the sporting ability challenges.

"Oh," Lancer smirked a bit here. "And you're going to be doing these tests for the rest of the day, guys, so you're with me all day."

Danny's sense of foreboding had, yet again, been right.


Sighing to himself as he counted his own pulse rate, Danny couldn't help but notice what had already been written up on the whiteboard. A table had been made, with four different names on it.

Dash was written with love hearts and smiley faces surrounding it, while Paulina had kisses smothering it. Dog-ghost was written with a pair of ears coming out of the D, but Danny's name was simply written in black pen.

Danny watched as Tucker crept over to the board and wiped out the black words, replacing them with ones in bright green whiteboard pen. Tucker then doodled the Danny Phantom logo next to his name. Although Tucker was cutting it rather close, Danny, nonetheless, grinned to his friend, then scrawled down his pulse rate onto a provided piece of paper.

He then took it to the front of the room, for Lancer to look at and write up on the board. The teacher glanced at the paper, and was about to write it up on the board, when he did a double take.

"Are you messing around with me, Mr. Fenton?" the teacher enquired harshly.

Danny frowned. "Uh, I dunno what you're talking about, sir. I recorded my pulse rate, like you said..."

"You've obviously got it wrong," he snapped. "Thirty beats per minute is not normal for a person your age! Now do and do it again!"

Shrugging to a frowning Sam, Danny sat back down at his seat and set the time for a minute again. He placed his middle finger over his wrist and, yet again, began to count his pulse.

One second...

Dash was currently running across the classroom while all the popular girls over-swooned and generally acted like silly children.

Fifteen seconds...

Star, on the other hand, was being temperature tested by several of her girlfriends and a couple of desperate nerds. They kept fawning over the thermometer and make her do the test to gain an average result.

Thirty seconds...

Cujo was currently being held down by Kwan and Valarie for the pulse test, even though the small dog kept sending heartbreaking pleading eyes towards Danny. The small green ectoplasmic dog obviously wanted Danny to help him, but the halfa knew he couldn't.

Forty-five seconds...

Tucker came to sit down next to Danny. "What did Lancer say?"

Danny shrugged. "He told me to do it again since the results were invalid."

"Invalid?" Tucker questioned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I got thirty beats in a minute, and I have no idea if that was normal, so I told Lancer and he told me to go do it again."

Tucker's eyes widened. "You mean your pulse rate is thirty bpm?"

"Well, yeah," Danny shrugged. "I wouldn't exactly lie for the results, even though I'm half-ghost."

The timer went off and Danny scrawled down his results on a piece of paper.

"What did you get?" Tucker asked curiously. He knew that an average fourteen year old should be getting sixty to one-hundred beats per minute, and yet Danny had only gained thirty? It was obviously something to do with his ghostly side.

"Only twenty-eight beats this time," Danny shrugged, and watched as Valarie went up to Lancer with Cujo's results. "Anyway, I better go tell Lancer that I'm not lying." He stalked over to the main desk in the science lab, scowling heavily.

"So, the ghost dog didn't have a pulse rate at all?" Lancer was asking Valarie.

Valarie nodded, her long hair jumping as she did so. "Yeah, sir. We don't know why, but it seems to somehow have conscious thought without having any signs of actually being alive."

"I have my results, sir," Danny interrupted, passing the sheet to Lancer. "And I wasn't lying about it at all."

Lancer looked down at the sheet. 30 was written there, but crossed out. Below it, the number 28 was clearly visible.

"Since you're obviously so determined to lie and destroy our results, Mr. Fenton, I suppose I'll have to record your pulse rate!" Grabbing Danny's arm, the unimpressed teacher stalked over to the dark haired boy's desk. "Sit down," he snapped.

Danny sat down on the stool then stuck his wrist out for Lancer to measure. Sam and Tucker joined them, along with Cujo (who landed, once again, on Danny's head) and Valarie. The rest of the class stared as Lancer placed his fingers over Danny's wrist and then started the timer again.

One minute later, and Lancer looked suspiciously like he was going to faint. "Was that.. for real?"

"Well... yeah?" Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I told you that I wasn't lying."