Feathers and Dust
By: Wilona Riva
Disclaimer: I own the idea behind this series of oneshots and any OC's, but not the canon characters.
Deca
Mr. Lancer tossed a heavy, worm-eaten tome on the top of his desk, causing the dust to fly up into the air. "This, class, is a book of baby names. Each of one you exhibits a trait that these names represent. I will call out ten names and their meanings. We will then have an open discussion on why the chosen person embodies that persona."
"Okay," the class replied. This was out of the norm for Mr. Lancer, but even he tired of reading every now and then. They did need a pick-me-up that didn't involve ghosts, especially that Phantom kid.
Closing his eyes, Mr. Lancer opened the book and pointed. Cracking open the book, he read the name aloud:
"Cassandra."
"Sam."
"Who said that?" Mr. Lancer demanded, staring at his class intently. Everyone gulped, afraid of where this was going.
"I did," Paulina Sanchez stated, jumping out of her chair. "She was a beautiful girl who was loved by the god Apollo, but she didn't love him back, so he cursed her to never be believed, though she spoke the truth. The goth loser chick reminds me of her sometimes."
Sam's mouth was open to say something, but Mr. Lancer noticed the Fenton boy elbow her slightly.
"Oh yeah, and I think it mean's 'man's defender' or something like that," Paulina added, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.
"Wow, Paulina!" Mikey Doyle whispered. "Like, wow!"
"Well, will wonders never cease?" Mr. Lancer said, surprised that the girl actually knew anything outside of makeup, boys and the latest fashion magazines. "Well let's see what is next...Mabon!"
Dash Baxter jumped up. "I have an uncle named Mabon. He's a poor starving artist, who lives in some really wacked out place I can't remember the name of."
"Wow, you even know what art is?" Danny Fenton sarcastically noted. "I believe the world is coming to an end."
"For your information, Dan, he's my mother's only brother. It's an old Welsh name that means 'son'," the school's star quarterback shot back. "After school, you're Fen-toast!"
"That's enough, Mr. Baxter," Mr. Lancer said, before World War III erupted, catchy a brief flash of green in Daniel Fenton's eyes. Probably an odd ray of sunlight glinting off the rose bush outside the window. "Can you tell us which of your classmates is a possible Mabon?"
"Easy, peasy. Kwan. He's always the dutiful son, helping his parents at their restaurant," Dash boasted.
Kwan slumped down in his seat, face red. "Geez, rub it in, why don't ya."
"What's the next name, Mr. Lancer?" Tucker Foley called out, trying to help defuse the tension in the room.
"Come and choose for yourself, Mr. Foley," the teacher said, beckoning him to the front of the room.
"Okay," the boy said, getting out of his desk and stumbling his way up the aisle. "Uh, let's see...how about Talitha?"
"That's my middle name," Star said, rising to her feet. "It also reminds me of Danny Phantom's daughter."
Mr. Fenton was making odd choking noises from several seats to the back of the room, Mr. Lancer observed when Star proclaimed this piece of interesting news.
"We're trying to stay away from the topic of ghosts, Miss Carrington," he warned her, "but enlighten the class, please."
"A: she looks like him," Star ticked off her fingers. "B: She idolizes him; you can see it in the way they interact with one another on the occasion, and C: Valerie told me so, yesterday."
"And how did you come by this piece of knowledge, Miss Grey?"
"She told me."
"She just told you?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Lancer rolled his eyes upwards. He was seriously going to pay a call to this girl's father about the friends she kept. "Okay, Miss Carrington, who else reminds you of this name?"
"Arabelle Ryan," she said, pointing at a petite girl with Euro-Asian American features. "She's so tiny, she's almost a doll."
"She is pretty," Nathan Lester called out. "Hey, Arabelle, go to the prom with me?"
"I'd choose Foley first, nerd!" Arabelle Ryan snapped back.
"Ouch, double stung," Sam whispered to Danny, who chuckled softly as Tucker's impression of a fish.
"Okay, kids, that's enough," Mr. Lancer said, voice rising sharply. "Now, Mr. Foley, the next name please, then you may sit down."
"Er, Trey, Mr. Lancer, sir."
A whisper of blue mist flickered out of his peripheral view. "Go," he ordered, without looking up, knowing when he did, Mr. Fenton would have vanished, possibly not to reappear until school was over, and then if.
A big if.
