"U…V…here we are," Lancer finally found the page he was looking for and set the book down on the desk. He put his finger on a picture of someone with a stocky build, the beginnings of a moustache, and a sport-jacket. Underneath read the name "RONALD WINTERBURG."
"That's…" Danny started to say, but quickly saw the look Lancer was giving him, "I, uh…thought I saw someone around here who looked kind of like this guy."
"He was the gym teacher here before Ms. Tetslaff. And back in my day he was the big man on campus in Casper High. While I led the cheerleading squad on the sidelines he tore across the football, basketball, and every other field like a cheetah. We were never friends, but we had nothing against each other. Until one day…" his thoughts slowly drifted back all those years…
----
As dusk fell on Casper High, the mood sank with the sun. It had been, without a doubt, the single most humiliating day in the school's history. Their junior football team had been the top-rated high school team in the state. Head Coach Feela's plays, the aggressive nature of the players, and star quarterback Ron Winterburg had led to everyone predicting them sure winners for the state championship game. The entire school had turned out for the event in high spirits, which were soon crushed like their team. The St. Bernard High Garlic Cloves destroyed the Casper High Ravens, 40 to 0. Now the spectators, players, mascots and cheerleaders were heading home, their heads hung low. About the only one still enthusiastic was Slade Lancer. From his perspective, the other side had won fair and square. Several players on the Ravens had completely disregarded the rules, resulting in several penalties, which held the team back. It had been as exciting as any game. His mind more content than any other at the stadium, he headed to his car, twirling his key chain and humming the theme to Lawrence of Arabia as he walked.
But as he walked, the sound of metal falling to concrete in the next parking lot, where the students and team from St. Bernard High had parked, caught his ear. He ran over and looked inside. Several members of the Ravens, among them Ron Winterburg, were sabotaging the cars of the opposite team!
"This'll show 'em," Winterburg muttered darkly. Lancer's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. All this…over a football game?
"Winterburg!" he stepped into the parking lot defiantly. Winterburg and his teammates looked up in alarm, but calmed down quickly.
"Oh," Winterburg smiled slightly, "Hey, Lancer. Don't mind us. Just givin' those Garlic Cloves what's comin' to 'em!"
"Winterburg, this violates good sportsmanship, school rules, and state and federal law!" Lancer stood his ground, "No football game is worth this! Someone could get killed!"
"What are you gonna do about it, Mr. goody-two-shoes?" Winterburg sneered as his friends laughed. Lancer marched off, a scowl on his face. He knew exactly what he was going to do. Apparently, one of the jocks took him more seriously than Winterburg.
"You think maybe we should've stopped him?" he asked, "He knows what we're doing."
"Ah, don't worry about it. He's a cheerleader! What's the worst he can do? Let's hurry up. Those Garlic Clove losers'll be done celebratin' soon."
"Mr. Winterburg!" a menacing shadow covered them. Lancer had returned, with the most feared teacher in the school; Mr. Wynn, the history teacher. He was a strict follower of all rules and gave out even stricter punishments. About the only student he was ever nice to was Lancer, who looked to him as a role model. The jocks stood frozen in their tracks, caught like deer in the headlights.
"M-M-M-Mr. Wynn!" Winterburg stammered, "We were just…"
"Endangering the lives of your peers!" Mr. Wynn shouted, "This is inexcusable!" as their teacher yelled, Winterburg's eyes fell on Lancer. Then it dawned on him.
"You!" he yelled, "You little snitch! I'll…"
"Slade here just reported a serious crime that could have resulted in serious injury, and is therefore not a "snitch." You, on the other hand, are caught red-handed!" I'll have to…" Winterburg was barely aware of the punishment Mr. Wynn was handing out. His eyes were narrowed and staring right at Lancer, who stood by, not the slightest sign of guilt, fear, or regret on his face.
----
"…He was suspended from the football team until the following year and had two months' detention," Mr. Lancer finished his recollections, "That day became even more infamous for the school and destroyed my social life, but I knew I'd done the right thing," Sam nodded in agreement. She never thought she'd see someone who went to school here who didn't reflect on how much they wanted to be popular or how popular they had been.
"So what happened between you and Winterburg?" Danny asked.
"Well, he wasn't exactly happy over what had happened," Lancer said, "One thing he was known for as well as his sporting skills was how long he could hold a grudge. He'd never been known as a bully before but, after that, I became his one and only target. He did all the usual; stuffed me into lockers, beat me up, all the old bully tricks. It kept up all through high school. When we graduated he joined the same college as me out of pure spite. He went into the same profession as me and when I took the job as English teacher here he became gym teacher and head coach. His assistant was Ms. Tetslaff. If you've ever wondered about the mutual animosity we share…now you know why."
"What happened to him?" Danny asked.
"A year ago in November we had an early snow and the roads were slick. Winterburg was heading home from a game when he got caught in a rather nasty crash."
"Ouch," Danny said, "But why are you looking all this up again now?"
"I…" Lancer shook his head, "No, you won't believe it."
"Mr. Lancer, my parents hunt ghosts."
"And I spend half my time looking up conspiracy theories and paranormal reports," Sam said. Lancer looked up at them both. Neither looked as if they wouldn't believe him.
"Well…" he sighed, "You remember the incident in the cafeteria last week?" they nodded, "Well, when I was out in the hallway I could've sworn I saw Winterburg, and again today when all your classmates were running out of here. I think it's…" the bell rang.
"Forget it. Get to your next hour," he actually smiled. A little reluctantly, Danny and Sam headed out.
----
"This Winterburg guy bullies Lancer through High School, gets the same job as him out of spite, and comes back from the grave to haunt him," Sam reviewed what they knew, "And I thought I could hold a grudge."
"No kidding," Danny nodded. It was their lunch hour. Nothing else had gone wrong for Lancer since second hour, though Principal Ishiyama still had her eye on him and there was no sign of the class that had gone running out the building. There was also no sign of Winterburg.
"Wonder where Winterburg is right now?" Sam stated the obvious.
"Wish I knew. Where's Valerie with her ghost weapons when you need her and she's not trying to kill me!?"
----
Valerie, along with everyone else in Mr. Lancer's second hour class, was still charging down the sidewalk. Their destination; the Nasty Burger.
"PARTY!" they chanted, "PARTY! PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!" it went on. The crowd broke into cheers as they charged into the burger stand, catching the cashiers by surprise. As the crowd spread apart and headed to their separate booths, Tucker managed to get free. The one Fenton Phone still in his ear, he had managed to throw off the spell completely. He looked around at the uncontrollable students.
"Hmm…" he said to himself, "A ghost this tough's not gonna go down with just the Fenton Thermos. To the FentonWorks Lab!" he struck a heroic pose before realising how much he sounded like Jack.
"Maybe we've been spending too much time at Danny's," he headed out.
----
"You really think Principal Ishiyama's mad enough to fire him?" Danny asked. He and Sam had finished their lunch off early and were heading towards his locker.
"Danny, her mother's on the school board and she fired Mr. McCaw last year for showing a history video she considered one year above the freshman grade level."
"That's a yes," they heard the slamming of a door down the hallway and several banging sounds. Another class had lost control, and Mr. Lancer had been forced outside. He was now holding the door shut, the entire class pounding at it behind him.
"IT'S A MAD-HOUSE!" he shouted, "A MAD HOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSE!"
"Mr. Lancer, what's going…" the door shook violently, cutting Danny off. He and Sam went up against the door to help hold it shut.
"Another class gone awry," Lancer stated the obvious, "I can't let this one get loose!" the door gave another violent shake. Making sure Lancer wasn't looking, Danny phased his head through the door. The class was out of control, slamming against the door with all their might. Those who weren't trying to break the door down were shouting at the top of their lungs to get free. Through the crowd, though, he could see green mist collecting into definite form in the back of the room.
"Winterburg," he muttered. Pulling his head out, he phased his hand through the door and the crowd and readied an energy blast. Though he didn't see it, the blast made a direct hit, blasting the ghostly gym teacher from the room. As soon as he had left, the chaos that seemed to be erupting from inside calmed down at once. The students, confused, slowly headed back to their desks. Lancer noticed. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, you two," he looked back and forth between Danny and Sam. The bell for the next period rang. The class rammed the door so hard it bust open, and on their way out they trampled all over Lancer, Danny and Sam being knocked off to the side.
"Are you OK, Mr. Lancer?" Sam asked once the crowd cleared. Lancer got to his feet, trembling with anger.
"Little House on the Prairie!" he spat before noticing that a fourth person had joined them. Principal Ishiyama sighed, shook her head, and walked off.
"You two better head to your next class," Lancer sighed. He headed back inside his classroom and slumped into his desk. Danny and Sam looked on as he let his head fall onto the desk. They both felt so sorry for him they barely noticed the green mist floating out of a locker and into the ventilation system.