This story has become very hard for me to work on, emotionally. I apologize that, since I have already been posting, I am now disappointing you, dear reader, as well as myself in the rapidity of updates. Thank you if you choose to bear with me; I am attempting to do better.

Chapter 4: Distraction

Lancer finished the rest of his school day with his mind tugged into more directions than was usual for him even in such strange times.

As it had been for the past week, the impending threat of suddenly lowering temperatures and the accompanying visit from a still unknown—but nonetheless terrifying—and dangerous being was his always his top priority. No matter what task he had at hand, much of his energy was still spent in concentrating on his surroundings in case anything went amiss. Trying to ensure that he would catch that slight drop in temperature that was their first warning as soon as it manifested itself. Always in the back of his mind was the knowledge that he held the lives of all of his students in his hands and that that moment's warning could literally mean life or death for them. So he dare not miss it.

He was ready—trying not to be actually waiting at this point because he refused to let this become a routine—to drop everything and start marshalling his students, who were honestly as adept at reading the telltale signs now as he was, into beginning the escape route that they had already long established.

They all lived with their phones in their pockets now. Not that they were allowed to use them for the normal frivolous frowned-upon-in-school texting to friends or passing along the answers to the closed book quiz they were taking, because there were still some rules that had to be enforced even in times of crisis. But heaven forbid one of these trips to the back of the classroom were someone's last and Lancer had deprived them of the ability to send a last goodbye.

The fact that no one had been targeted by this thing yet was most definitely a reason to rejoice, but Lancer was under no illusions that he could breathe easy. This was not a guarantee of the way things were going to continue. Just because the thing hadn't tried to kill anyone thus far did not mean that any of them were safe or that they could let their guards down in the slightest, even if these interruptions had begun to seem routine to them and they had become used to dropping their lesson plan at a moment's notice.

He hadn't forgotten the way the upturned desk had slammed into the wall on that first day, leaving cracks in the cinderblocks and metal legs twisted beyond the ability for even school maintenance to salvage the desk chair.

And, he suspected, since the glaring crack in the wall wasn't completely concealed by the patch of a slightly different shade of off white that had been slathered over it, his students hadn't forgotten either.

That was why they were well behaved, he decided. They knew. They knew full well that this wasn't a prank and that this wasn't an excuse to try to weasel their way out of the rest of their assignments for the year.

They were at school while there just happened to be monsters on the loose.

But they trusted him enough to continue attending classes. They believed that he would protect them if something came at them again.

What he could really do with a canister of carbon dioxide if the ghost-thing decided that it really wanted to single one of his students out, was beyond him. But he couldn't afford to dwell on his potentially life threatening inadequacies. Not while he was still the best protection these children had since they were still in Casper High and no one else seemed to be taking the threat seriously.

He did have the opportunity to change that this afternoon when he went to Ishayama's office. Every school official and teacher and board member that the principal could scrounge up would likely be there and this was his chance to present his case before them all.

To explain in rational terms what had been going on and why they needed to do something about it. Why it would be better to close down for a little while since the school had been the only known location of sightings thus far. Or why, if the board decided to be pigheaded in their refusal to send the students to safety, they needed to be more prepared to face the situations that would surely arise here.

It had been sheer luck that his classroom, the only one prepared, had still been the only one to see the ghost so far. To them, it must have seemed like bad luck that it targeted no one else, but Lancer thanked it for the safety it meant for the rest of the school.

But that grace period was bound to run out. They needed to stop tempting fate by not having anyone else ready for this when the issue came up, and it was going to come up sooner or later.

Lancer was the Vice Principal. It was his duty to see the school prepared for emergencies and, Great Expectations, if this didn't count as an emergency, then he didn't know what would.

He would stand up and explain everything to the school board, tell them in terms so black and white that they would have no choice but to heed his advice and finally do something about the thing coming through the walls to plague his classroom.

Fists clenched in determination as he vowed that he would protect his students… all of his students.

Once he had promised this to himself, however, he blinked up again to reality and realized that he had been planning his day so far in advance that while he had fully imagined how his afternoon would go, he had neglected the class he was supposed to be teaching.

Looking back to the chalkboard, he stared blankly for a moment as he tried to reclaim the disconnected thoughts that must have come from his head. Trying to understand the notes that he had so recently written but suddenly seemed so foreign to his train of thought that it made no sense.

Sighing, he turned back to look at his class, who sat, for the most part, patiently waiting for him to collect his thoughts and continue. A few people had begun doodling quietly in what he supposed must have been more than just a few seconds of free time.

But nowhere was the utter chaos that he had been hearing as he walked down the halls. No crashes, no shouting matches. His students were better behaved now than they had ever been up to this point in the school year.

He smiled at them fondly, appreciating that fact and deciding that they well deserved the break that the other classes had been taking for themselves.

"Well, class," he said, abandoning whatever subject he had been teaching throughout this last period. "You may have heard your principal saying that there is going to be a faculty meeting after class today."

He paused for the quiet laughter that spread throughout the classroom. At least they were still capable of that despite everything that had been happening to them lately. And apparently, yes, they had heard Ishayama loud and clear when she scheduled his attendance in her office as if he were a delinquent student.

"Yes, well," he smiled along with them at the image that brought up before most definitely changing the subject before his image could be tarnished with any further parallels drawn to that idea. He was, after all, the most responsible adult in Casper High at the moment. It wouldn't do to have his reputation eroded by something he had said himself. "This is a chance to try to gain control of the situation that we've been dealing with this week."

That sobered them quickly.

"I'm sure you've seen how the rest of the school is handling the news?" he asked, looking around at the class full of nodding heads.

It would have been impossible to miss the way everyone had suddenly started not paying attention to any sort of authoritarian figure. Even though they weren't taking any subjects with the upperclassmen, it was clear to see just from a little bit of time out in the hallways or in the cafeteria to know that something was far from normal in the rest of the school.

"Most of the students," Lancer began to pace the front of the classroom as he spoke, "have taken advantage of the situation by trying to get out of as much schoolwork as they can. I'm sure you understand where they're coming from," Lancer allowed. "As homework tends to be the thing you like least in your young and exciting lives."

Then he turned and watched them all for a moment, a realization suddenly dawning upon him of something he had been taking for granted all this time.

"I am not sure that I had thanked you all for not acting like that," Lancer said, and most of the students looked up at him in surprise. "You have all behaved remarkably over the past few days," he said honestly, "and I am exceedingly grateful to you for keeping your cool and doing what I ask. For not freaking out or trying to use this as an excuse to get out of everything you possibly can."

He scanned the room, trying to make his appreciation known. "Many of your fellow students are home. I do not grudge them that. But I have as of yet been unable to explain to the rest of the school staff that the threat to the student body is real. You know it is real because you have seen it for yourselves."

Many of the teenagers began to squirm in their seats as they remembered all too well the green shape that had flown at them until a hissing stream of white obscured their vision.

"But Principal Ishayama has not seen it," Lancer pointed out to them. "Neither have any of the other teachers. Neither have the other classes, for that matter," he said, saddened not that this was the case for he wouldn't wish such an experience on anyone, but because in this case, it seemed the only way the other teachers would be convinced of what he told them.

"Which means that the burden of proof lies with us. And we need to indeed prove that the situation is real and that it is serious. This is going to be our best chance to do that, ladies and gentlemen. In this meeting, I can either convince the staff that we are right and that better steps need to be taken as a precaution to ensure the safety of everyone still here… or they will be convinced that there is something wrong with all of our heads. That we are hallucinating. Or have cracked after too much hard work. Or that we have become over familiar with the Fentons."

A quick glance to young Daniel. "No offence, Mr. Fenton," he added quickly. "But the general consensus of your family's business is…" he trailed off because it wasn't polite to insult his student's parents in front of them. Even if everyone in the room could still very easily fill in the blank on what he had already said.

"None taken," Danny replied with a wave of the hand that wasn't in a sling, and it seemed like he was telling the truth. It seemed that he had developed a thick skin over the years of being his parents' son. Or perhaps, the ability to let things roll off of him. Like water on a duck.

"That being said," Lancer continued, turning to the class at large, "those of us here in this room right now are the most knowledgeable in the entire school as to what I must present to the board. I therefore suggest to take advantage of that happy situation by abandoning the lectures I had prepared for the rest of the day—" here the students looked to their friends around them in astonishment at the proclamation—"and, barring any untoward interruptions," Lancer explained, "spend the rest of our class periods together detailing the most effective lines of reasoning and argumentation that I might present today."

Some of the students looked at him as if they weren't quite sure what he was suggesting.

"I would like you to help me prepare my presentation. Help me write it," he explained, "in order to help Casper High and try to end this. So… what do you say?"

As the class cleared their desks in record time and leaned forward already with hands in the air and suggestions on the tips of their tongue, Lancer thought that this was the most excited any class of his had ever been for a project.