Hello and welcome! I'm having another shot at a multichapter fic, so this should be interesting. Enjoy!
Tuesdays were the worst. Everything that was even vaguely annoying happened on Tuesday, and this particular Tuesday was no exception.
It was a nice day for once – he found that most Tuesdays came with rain and dark clouds – and the sun was beaming down on the cracked street outside. Edward Lancer walked along said street, staring at the ants in the cracks. They were very interesting ants. They scurried about, completely unconcerned with the world around them and only focused on their task. Edward wished his students could be like that.
He found that eventually the pavement got newer and the cracks disappeared as he got nearer to Casper High. The local council had decided to put some money towards the area around the school a couple of months ago to make it safer for all the kids around. The result was a distinct lack of ants. Edward frowned.
He made his way into the school with a good half an hour to spare before the students arrived. Great; just enough time to go over his lesson plans and log into Doomed for a while. He was hoping to finally beat level thirteen.
His lesson plans were all in order as far as he could tell. A lesson on poetry for the freshmen first period, Macbeth for the sophomores second and his senior class were studying Lord of the Flies at the end of the day. Edward was hoping they'd be able to come up with something other than 'humans are evil'.
After a nice twenty minutes or so of playing his game and finally finally beating the level and getting the key, Edward was startled by the school bell. He jumped and quickly logged off his computer. It wouldn't do for any of the students to come in and see him.
His homeroom class was also his sophomore English class, and, as always, Danny Fenton was late. Dash came in thirty seconds before the bell, shoving Mikey out of the way as he did. Edward offered him a glare and he shrugged. Manson and Foley were just on time, both of them panting as they slammed the door behind them. He wondered what kind of thing had happened to make Tucker Foley do exercise.
He started the attendance register with a sigh, not even bothering to call out Danny's name until the end when he came rushing into the classroom and skidded down onto a chair near his friends.
"Late again Mr Fenton?" he asked, grimacing. He really didn't want to give him another detention, but it was school policy and he couldn't defy Ishiyama.
"Detention?" Danny asked in reply.
"I'm afraid so. See me after school." Edward said.
"Yes, Mr Lancer."
The class settled down into their usual start of day state, where half of them were gossiping and the other half were trying to get in a bit more sleep before lessons started for real. Edward wandered around the room, occasionally trying to talk to someone, or glaring at Paulina who was doing the homework for his class right in front of him.
"that should have been done at home, Paulina." He reminded her. She scoffed and turned away to her friends.
The bell to signify the end of homeroom ran sooner than he would have liked, and the sophomores groaned as they moved on to their first class of the day. They were replaced by the freshmen who were all idiots.
Well, he guessed not all of them were complete idiots, but it was still near the beginning of the year and most were still trying to figure out how high school worked. Apparently, Casper middle school didn't have a good English teacher since it seemed none of them knew how to analyse even the simplest poem, and Edward had to teach them from the beginning. It was most annoying. Coincidentally, he always had them on a Tuesday.
Today he stared at a class of blank faces as he practically begged them to tell him what Wordsworth meant in his poem 'I wandered lonely as a cloud'. It was one of Edwards all-time favourites and he had even taken a trip to Coniston in England to see the lake that inspired it. It saddened him to see that none of today's youth seemed to be able to appreciate Wordsworth's mastery and genius.
Eventually, the bell rang and the kids gladly left his classroom, only to be replaced with the sophomores from earlier.
Surprisingly, Danny was right there with Sam and Tucker, even if he did have a suspiciously large cut on his arm.
"Are you alright, Daniel?" Edward asked. "Do you need to go to the nurse's office?"
Danny evidently hadn't been expecting anyone to notice his cut. He immediately shielded it from Edward's view and snapped, "No, I'm fine."
"If you're sure?"
"yes."
Edward shrugged. "Alright then. If you're not hurt, then can you tell me where we left off in reading Macbeth last lesson?"
Daniel's brows furrowed and he tapped his foot under his desk. his eyes slid to Sam Manson next to him, who whispered something in his ear. His eyebrows rose again. "Lady Macbeth!" he said triumphantly.
Edward couldn't help but smile. "Any elaboration on that? You are right, it was a scene with Lady Macbeth."
The boy's foot continued to tap. "She was doing that speech thing…"
"A soliloquy, yes."
"Yeah that. She wanted to uh… unsex herself? And there was something about killing a baby?
Edward facepalmed. "Yes Daniel. There was something about killing a baby. Can anyone tell me anything else about what lady Macbeth is saying here?"
No one could.
Oh how he missed Jazz Fenton.
The rest of the period passed in a similar way, until Danny started and waved his hand in the air.
"Yes, Daniel?"
"Um, can I go to the restroom, Mr Lancer?" he asked, biting his lip.
Edward pinched his forehead. "Just go. Try and come back before the end of the period."
"Thanks, sir!" Danny yelled as he thundered out and to wherever he went during class.
"Uh, sir?" another voice piped up.
"Yes, Valerie. You can go too."
"Thanks!"
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, apart from the food fight at lunch and the four ghost fights. Just a typical Tuesday.
When the bell rang, Edward got out of the school as quickly as he could, intending to do some marking at the public library before settling down with a good book in one of the comfy armchairs they had there. Hopefully there would be some fellow book lovers there to discuss it with.
It was as he was walking along the pavement, humming a tune in his head, that the Tuesday bad luck kicked in.
There was, as was typical, a ghost fight going on in the air above. Phantom was fending off against some sort of gruesome glowing… thing… which was, in retaliation, trying to kill him. Edward was captivated for a few minutes, gazing at the two ghosts. He supposed he probably should have been worried about the number of ectoblasts being thrown around and the huge amount of property damage, but he was a little busy being mesmerised by the fight. He was so busy in fact, that he didn't notice his proximity to an electricity pylon. The pylon itself had come during the fight, and the wires were puddled on the floor, covered in viscous green ectoplasm.
Edward really had to learn to look where he was stepping.
Another blast came from above, and he jumped.
Pain erupted all around him, surging through his body and he fell to the ground in anguish. He must have yelled out, because Phantom was there all of a sudden and the ghost's hands were pressed on his shoulder. He heard a voice asking if he was alright, asking if he could hear them. He couldn't speak – couldn't even nod. There was just pain.
When he woke up, Edward was assaulted by a barrage of white. White walls, white ceiling, white clad people moving about him with white trolleys. He glanced down at himself and was disproportionally overjoyed to see he was wearing blue, although on closer inspection, he found it was not his usual blue shirt, but a hospital gown. His eyes flew back to the people – nurses, he assumed – and they fell on the IV inserted into his arm. He groaned, and one of the nurses was at his side in seconds.
"Edward, do you remember what happened?" he asked him, adjusting his bedsheet. "Phantom brought you in earlier."
"Phantom?" Edward asked. "Yes. Phantom was there."
"You were caught in electricity wires, according to him. He said you passed out as he got to you." The nurse clarified.
Edward strained his brain. "Yes, I was near the pylon. And there was green. Lots of green."
"It's likely you've still got a concussion from hitting your head as you passed out. You won't be able to remember everything yet. We'll be keeping you here until you're stable and we're sure you're good to go." He paused. "Do you have anyone you want us to contact? We looked for close family members but we couldn't find anyone obvious."
"What?" Edward faltered, voice coming out rough and tired. "No. There's no one."
"Alright then. We'll be testing you for a concussion in a while, then, if you're clear, then you'll just have to stay here overnight before you can go. Is that ok, Edward?
"Yeah." His voice came out distant. "Yes. That's fine."
The nurse smiled and walked off, writing something down on his clipboard. Edward was left alone in his bed, wondering what in Paradise Lost's name had happened.
His hand reached up to his chin, rubbing at the stubble there. He should probably shave at some point, having been too busy playing video games last night to bother. Edward sighed. His hand slipped down and…
It was in the bed. His hand, his very solid and human hand which should have been physically unable to do so, had slipped into the mattress. He stared at it wonder for a few seconds before realising he couldn't get it out. Edward Lancer was usually a calm person, but right now, he was panicking.
This was impossible! How? He tugged, but it was to no avail. The hand stayed firmly stuck in the mattress.
"Concentrate."
Edward's head whipped round. Had someone said something?
"Concentrate on making it intangible again. You'll be able to get it out that way."
"Where are you?" Edward demanded, and his voice was quite a lot higher than he would have liked. "Who are you?"
"It's me, Phantom." Said the voice again, followed by a head materialising in the air. The head soon gave way to a whole body, jumpsuit and all. "I've been here since you were brought in, since it was kind of my fault that you're here. I didn't save you in time." Phantom looked distraught at the prospect, and Edward was willing to bet he'd been beating himself up about it since it happened. He'd seen enough students angry at themselves to recognise it.
"it's alright, really." He tried to reassure, also trying his best not to look surprised at the ghost which had just appeared before his very eyes. "Just… what happened? And what's happening?"
"That," Phantom said, pointing to Edward's arm, "Is intangibility. Well it was. You let it go and you got stuck."
"I didn't mean that." He grumbled. "Well, I did. But what happened back on the street?"
"Yeah." Phantom's face twisted into a grimace. "Like that nurse said, you got caught up in the wires. The wires had ectoplasm on them. Electricity plus ectoplasm equals not good."
A sliver of fear ran through Edward's mind. "So, what does that mean? Why is this happening?" he didn't even need to gesture to his stuck arm for Phantom to know what he was talking about.
The ghost was quiet for a few moments, seemingly contemplating his words. "There's this theory." He said, careful and low. "In the ghost zone. When humans are exposed to huge amounts of energy combined with a massive load of ectoplasm, well, they don't exactly die. It's like half dying. You're not dead. Just… you might feel a lot more ghostly form now on."
Edwards throat was dry. "What?" he choked.
"They… they call them halfas." Phantom said. "Half human and half ghost. Like a human but with ghost powers. And a ghost form, probably. Like I said, it's just a theory."
"And you think this is what's happening to me?"
"I'm afraid so." Phantom's eyes rolled down to Edwards hand. "Most people can't do that. You should probably try to get it out at some point, you know."
Edward ignored him, in lieu of completely freaking out. "am I dead?" he whispered, strangled.
"No! No. You're not dead. At least I don't think so. It's not like we have many other halfas to go off, but the general theory is that you don't die. Now come on." His voice turned gentle, coaxing. "Close your eyes, and pull, but like, don't physically pull. Just do it mentally. Imagine your arm can go through the material. Imagine its intangible and it will be."
"To kill a mockingbird, you sound like a teenager." Edward said distantly. His mind was occupied with trying to comprehend and then put into action what Phantom had just told him.
"Well," the other said, "since I am a teenager, I'm going to take that as a compliment."
Edward turned his head, eyes searching out the glowing green ones. "You died recently?"
Phantom's face twisted. "I don't want to talk about it. Rule one of talking to ghosts, don't ask about their death."
"Oh. alright then." Edward, feeling somewhat put out by that dismissal, went back to trying to get his arm out of the material.
He finally got it, some ten minutes later, along with a whoop from Phantom, although Edward wasn't sure if that was because the ghost was happy for him, or because he wanted to leave.
He flickered out of existence at the same time the nurse from earlier came in beaming.
"Good news!" he smiled. "You don't have a concussion, your injuries have healed remarkably well, and you're pretty much free to go whenever you like. We're advising that you stay here overnight, but it's not compulsory."
Edward stared back at him uncomprehending, because he had just managed to get his leg stuck in his bed post.
Focus. Intangible. Think intangible.
"Yes. Uh, yes. Thank you." He said in response to the nurse. "I would like to go home, if you don't mind. I'm feeling much better."
"Well, we can't keep you here." The man sighed. "Alright then. Let's get you out of this bed. You'll need to sign out at reception." The nurse smiled and walked briskly over to another table, presumably to fill out some forms.
"Thank you." Edward said.
"No problem."
So uh... hopefully you liked that? Let me know what you thought.
Fun fact: I actually have a plan for this story, so that should mean I'll be able to update fairly regularly and not have a complete mind blank halfway through which will be a nice change.