Just My Luck

Chapter Ten

This chapter: Yet again another wonderful filler chapter (please note sarcasm), but now it seems that a little bit of Stephanie Meyer is getting infused in this story. See here for yourself- but sorry to disappoint you, these undead don't drink blood. And… um, more D/S anyone? –dodges happy fans-

And thanks for the reviews- much improvement. Keep it up, thanks.

Danny seemed to be fighting some internal battle as he looked at me, more intensely than I was used to. My breath hitched as we leaned in closer…

And then Danny just held me to him, his face in my hair.

That night I dreamt of him. I was following him down the school hallway. A pretty black girl stopped to talk to him, he laughed at what she said and they walked on together. It was like I was tethered to him as I stalked him silently. Then the scene switched, and Danny was in the basement, watching a dark figure send sparks flying from the Ghost Portal… the figure turned to Danny, pointed a gun, and fired.

I woke up screaming.

I shot up in bed, shaking. I threw back my covers and pulled my knees into my chest. Danny was nowhere in sight.

Maybe that's a good thing, I thought to myself as I tried to stop shivering. I pulled a sweatshirt over my head and I decided to go get something to drink.

I left my room quietly. It was three am by the kitchen clock. I opened the refrigerator door, grabbed a carton of soymilk, and shut the door. Then I turned around.

Standing in my way was the miniskirted-girl from the mall. I gasped, but hung on to the carton of soymilk. She was glaring at me again.

"What- what do you want?" I asked hoarsely.

The girl continued to glare, but the knives on the rack behind her started to shake. The hair started to rise on the back of my neck, as I wondered whether to run or stay and fight.

"You're being too nosy for your own good," The girl finally said conversationally, as though she was not shaking knives with her ghost powers, "You better stop investigating, little medium, if you don't want to go the same way as your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," I said automatically, and cringed internally. I must sound like an idiot.

"We're watching you," The girl said again, and one knife flew from the rack to the floor at my feet. "Be careful."

Then she was gone. I froze for a minute, but I bent to pick up the knife. I put it back and poured myself a glass of soymilk.

"Sam?" It was Danny.

"Hey," I said, my voice still shaking.

A concerned look appeared in his face. "Are you okay? Are you cold or something?"

I shook my head and said, "I just had… a late night visitor, that's all."

Danny took a seat next to me. "What did she want?"

I cursed internally and tried to get my hands to stop shaking. "Oh, nothing…" I said nonchalantly.

She just wanted to throw knives at me and threaten me. It's no big deal.

Danny seemed to know that I wasn't being completely honest. "Okay, then." He dropped the subject and watched me slowly drink my beverage.

"Are you really okay?" He said, quieter this time.

"Mhm," I nodded, swallowing. "She just… threatened me, that's all."

"She threatened you and you act as if it's no big deal?"

"Danny, I get threatened a lot," I tried to calm him down, because now instead of looking concerned, he just looked angry, "And at least she didn't throw the knife at me."

Oops. Damn my awful luck and my inability to keep my mouth shut.

"KNIVES?" At that point, Danny scooped me up in his arms and held me to him. Normally, I would have enjoyed this… but talk about your overreaction!

"Danny, it's fine. No seriously, it's fine. I'm okay," I said, as he was looking at me more incredulously with every passing minute, "And, um, can you put me down? I can walk you know."

"Fine." Danny dumped me unceremoniously on the titled floor.

"Nice aim," I said sarcastically, motioning towards the chair that was only a foot away. I got up and tired to convince him one last time that I was okay.

"Look Danny, the thing about me is that I get negative attention a lot from the undead." I began as I started to walk towards the stairs.

"Oh, no doubt," Danny snorted. I scowled at him.

"Anyway, as I was saying, every once in a while some undead soul threatens me because I'm doing what I do best-"

"Getting in trouble?" Danny interjected.

"No, investigating and solving problems."

Danny looked at me sideways as we started to ascend the stairs. "I thought that you weren't doing any investigating."

What IS it with my blabbering mouth tonight?… "I'm not. Right now, I mean. But you never know, she could just be one of the homicidal ones."

"Okay," Danny said, though his tone told me he wasn't entirely convinced.

"And Danny…" He turned around to face me a step below him. "I really can take care of myself. I promise."

And then I proceeded to trip and start on what would have been a nasty fall…

…If Danny hadn't caught me. "Nice, Sam. All you try to do is prove to me how independent you are, and then you nearly kill yourself doing something ordinary."

I scowled sourly at him, but my frown couldn't say long when that killer smile was working its magic on me.

I noticed that as we walked back to my bedroom he didn't let go of my hand.

Even though it was Monday I managed to smile a little bit. Christmas Eve was Thursday, so we only had school for three days!

School passed uneventfully. I asked Tucker how he was doing on the glasses, and he told me he'd run into a few problems but he should have them sorted out within a week.

Nothing was new, except that Dash threw a book at me and told me I looked like a clown (the purple lipstick was probably to blame). It was when I returned home that things started to get interesting.

When I opened the door Aunt Elma was there to greet me. "Sam!" She said wildly, a strand of Christmas lights trailing behind her, "You need to help me!"

"Help you do what?" I asked, "Decorate?"

"Yes!" Aunt Elma cried as she set down the box of lights. "Now where did I leave the tree ornaments?"

"They're here," I called, picking up a box clearly labeled Tree Ornaments.

Aunt Elma and I decorated well past dinner. We ordered pizza and ate it as I did my homework- thank God she understood algebra. She even showed me shortcuts, giving me the simplest way possible to solve problems.

In addition to the algebra problems, I had my own ghostly problems to deal with. I decided that I should go ahead and write to Jazz, Danny's older sister. Maybe she could provide some insight as to why Danny was murdered… or why he stuck around for so long.

I went online to Jasmine Fenton's internet site and sent her an email.

Hello, Ms. Fenton… I'm not quite sure how to write this email. I think the best way to do it is to just tell you. My name is Samantha Madison, I see ghosts, and I live at 666 Whipstaff Avenue in Amity Park, New York.

There's a ghost that resides here that I think you'll want to contact. Please call me.

I left my phone number for her and sent the email. I killed about an hour reading the rest of Catcher in the Rye and I began to draft a rough essay. Then I noticed that I had a new email in my inbox.

Jasmine Fenton had replied.

Ms. Madison,

You are not aware that the house you live in now was once my own. You say that you are psychically enabled, and that you see ghosts on a regular basis… including the one residing in your house.

I will call you tomorrow at about 4 pm to discuss this ghost of yours.

Best, Jasmine Fenton.

I turned off my computer and decided to call it a night. I slept peacefully that night, although Danny did not return. The next morning, he was there.

I awoke to find Danny looking at me. "Good morning," He said.

I rolled over. "Five more mintues," I groaned into my pillow as I pulled my covers over my head.

The covers were whisked away from by body without Danny even touching them. Damn him and those telekinetic ghost powers. "You better get up, Sam, you're gonna be late."

"Why?" I moaned, and rolled over.

I had twenty minutes to get to school.

"Crap!" I cried and leaped out of bed, my lethargy dissipating. I ran to wash my face. "Where's Aunt Elma?"

"Gone," Danny answered. "She went to get milk and completely forgot that you had school."

Trust my luck to land me with an absentminded aunt. "Damn it," I cursed again, applying eyeliner with record speed, "I am so going to be late."

"Not if I can help it," Danny laughed, "I can get you there."

I stopped applying mascara in order to look at him. "Oh, thanks a million Danny. You're awesome!"

Danny seemed to blush. "It's nothing, really…"

I threw on some jeans and an old concert shirt in the bathroom as I brushed my teeth hurriedly and threw my hair into a ponytail. I skidded out the door as I stooped to grab my backpack.

"Ready!" I cried, crashing into the door as I tried to exit it.

"Sam, don't rush. You won't be late."

"I better not be. Lancer will kill me if I am!" I said around bites of the Poptart I was currently inhaling.

"Isn't that a little extreme for a teacher?" Danny raised an eyebrow and stifled a laugh as I ran to the other end of the kitchen to grab lunch money.

"Have you ever met Lancer?" I asked him, my eyes wide for effect.

"Nope. Maybe someday I will," Danny smiled down at me, my heart skipping a beat or two.

I frowned internally. I better get a handle of myself, I cursed, or I'll be heartbroken when he leaves.

Without a moment's pause, Danny scooped me up in his arms. "Up, up and away we go."

Danny turned us both invisible and intangible as we flew. He only turned visible as he let me down a block from school. "See? You still have ten mintues."

I grinned. "Only thanks to you."

And with that I threw my arms around him in a hug. Danny stiffened, seemingly shocked by the outburst of affection I was showing. He let me go and smiled again, but this time it was sadder.

"Bye!" I waved and took off running down the pavement, my Converse pounding.

To say that my day was boring would have been an understatement. In English, Lancer literally made us make a circle with our desks and talk about Catcher in the Rye and "what it meant to us".

Seriously. The last thing I ever wanted to do was discuss- with my classmates- about how warm and fuzzy the ravings of Holden Caulfield made me feel, and how I empathized with his feelings toward the loss of innocence. NOT.

Please. I would throw those damn kids out of that field of rye. The sooner they grow up, the better.

The rest of the day was not much better. My Algebra teacher yelled at me for using shortcuts. My Biology teacher had a fit when I said that I refuse to dissect frogs in January. Then at lunch, Tucker was absent and I was left to getting pelted by paper balls, courtesy of Dash and Kwan.

My only salvation was that Jasmine Fenton was going to call at four, and my investigation would really begin. Needless to say, I nearly ran home. Danny was nowhere to be found… which, again, was probably a good thing considering what I was going to do.

The phone rang at exactly four.

I picked up. "Hello? Sam Madison speaking."

"Samantha Madison? This is Jasmine Fenton."

I smiled. "Hello, Ms. Fenton."

"I understand that you currently live in my house."

"It was just brought to my attention by you-" A lie, but she didn't need to know that, "-and yes, what I wrote is true. There is a ghost in this house."

"And you can see him." It was not a question, but merely a statement. Did I detect a waver in her voice?

"Yes. He's tall, he has black hair, blue eyes. He's wearing a white tshirt and jeans… and sneakers."

"Danny." Jasmine gasped. I heard a clatter on the other end, which must have meant that she'd dropped the phone. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Yes…" I wondered how much I could tell her, "He tells me that he was murdered in the 1960s."

"Murdered? No, Danny wasn't murdered, he killed himse-" Jasmine stopped short. "Did you just say murdered?"

"He told me so himself. In 1963, a gunshot wound to the chest." Well, judging by the state of Danny's old clothes that I'd once found hidden- in my windowseat hollow, of all places- it was to the chest.

"Do you know who the killer is?" There was urgency in Jasmine's voice. "Maybe that is what he was trying to tell me before he died."

"He doesn't remember." I heard silence on the other side of the phone, so I decided to elaborate. "It's common in ghosts, though. Some of them don't remember a thing about their lives."

I heard a watery intake of breath on the other side of the phone. "What does he remember, besides the circumstances of his death?"

"He remembers his family. His sister- Jasmine Fenton- especially."

I definitely heard someone in tears on the other side of the phone, "Ms. Fenton, he was trying to tell you something before he died. He may not remember what, but I found his journal- there was this person named Vlad. Danny believed that Vlad was up to something with-"

"The Ghost Portal," Jasmine finished for me. "Look Samantha, it's been great talking to you… but something has suddenly come up. I'd like to talk again later. Feel free to email me."

"Sure thing, Ms. Fenton. And call me Sam, please."

"Sam, then. Well, goodbye Sam."

"Talk to you later Ms. Fenton."

And it was as I pressed the "Talk" button to end the call that I saw Danny's eyes on me. He looked simply murderous.

"Sam," There so much anger laced through one syllable. I'd never heard my name sound so evil before. "Would you like to explain yourself?"

Authoress says: Uh oh. What's gonna happen? Guess you'll have to stick around to find out.

Thanks and review.