Scene 6.
Lancer was an inescapable entity in their school. As Vice Principal in an understaffed establishment (Thanks, ghosts.), he was found teaching anything from Art to Physics in a given semester. Today, first period, was Chemistry. And the trained English teacher was rattling off a previous teacher's notes on organic vs. inorganic compounds. Needless to say, it was a less than riveting performance.
"Does anyone have any questions?" the balding man finally asked, after nearly an hour of talking. Chirping crickets would have been more interested than the classroom of students. Except, that is, for Mikey, who gingerly rose his hand.
"I was just wondering, if all life is carbon-based… what about afterlife? Like-is ectoplasm organic or inorganic?" The whole class bolted up in their seats at the very thought of discussing ghosts. Amity Park had come a long way since calling the Fentons crackpots. It wasn't hard to miss that the Fenton child himself was the focus of many sharp glances. The boy shrunk in his chair, and behind his bangs.
Lancer peered through his notes, but found no answer. They had been written before ghosts were generally considered real, let alone scientifically studied in the mainstream. "I'm afraid I don't know. The teacher admitted. "Would anyone-" he cleared his throat, "would anyone else like to try answering?"
Though Lancer tried not to be direct, all eyes turned to the half ghost in the room. Danny had sat up a little straighter, but was now hunched over his desk, his hands buried in his hair, "I don't know, my mom told me once but I can't remember," he said, more to his desk than to the curious students.
"How do you not know? Isn't it-like- ghost 101?" Dash inquired sincerely.
That made Danny finally look up, amusement in his gaze, "Okay, Dash, please inform the class on how blood works, since that must be human 101." Much of the class snickered. Dash's jaw clenched as he was momentarily reminded of a reason he once bullied the little smartass.
"Not that I don't relish sarcastic rhetoric," Tucker swooped in, "because I really do, but F.Y.I. ectoplasm is, just like blood, a mix of things. It's mostly made of inorganic, metallic compounds that are suspended between a gas and liquid state at room temperature, making a ghost light and airy, and allowing it to conduct plenty of electrical activity to support a consciousness. Unlike blood, it doesn't support gas exchange. Ghosts don't have to breath. Their movement depends upon energy from their core, which is charged in the ghost zone."
Those in the class who understood Tucker were genuinely fascinated. Danny and Dash had paid no attention, remaining in a smirk-glare face-off.
Mikey, meanwhile, couldn't leave well enough alone. "Cool! But wait, does that mean Danny has to recharge in the ghost zone too?"
The boy in question and his girlfriend shared weary expressions, while Dash felt proud to have won his staring contest, for no particular reason.
Why is this anyone's business? Danny mouthed to Sam, who only shook her head in response. Tucker, oblivious to his friends' body language, continued divulging.
"Well no...his core is most likely charged by his human half's energy."
"Please, Mr. Lancer, this isn't an ectobiology course," the half-ghost groaned.
The incredibly intrigued teacher snapped back to attention, "Ah yes. Quite right." He paused, patting his pockets as if they held the track upon which his train of thought should be. "Right, um." Maybe his watch could help. After a quick glance at his left wrist, he did indeed remember, "Ladies and Gentleman, we have just enough time to go over some of the homework problems from last night." A collective sigh fell over the room, as the energy of the kids was whisked away. Only one student seemed happy for the change of topic.
Ectobiology, Mr. Lancer thought, he'd have to take that up with the committee as a possible elective for next year.