Author's Introduction:
Don't own Danny Phantom. I wish I could say that in a funnier way, but I'm just not feeling witty tonight!
Okay, here's chapter two. And…action!
Eye of the Beholder
A Danny Phantom fanfiction
Chapter Two: Girls on Film
See them walking hand in hand across the bridge at midnight
Heads turning as the lights flashing out it's so bright
Then walk right out to the fourline track
There's a camera rolling on her back, on her back
And I sense the rhythm humming in a frenzy all the way down her spine
Girls on film
Girls on film
(Girls on Film, Duran Duran)
"Beautiful," Sam breathed. "It's the single most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."
"Beautiful? Where?" Tucker asked, hoisting his camera.
Sam had just parked her 1993 Mustang in the Casper High parking lot—although both she and Danny had gotten their licenses earlier in the winter, she was the only one who had a car and a parking pass. Tucker was scheduled to take the test for the third time in October—he wasn't the most careful driver in the world. As a result, Sam was usually the chauffeur, since Jazz had taken her Jetta with her to college and Jack was reluctant to lend Danny the Fenton RV. Which wasn't a big deal; Sam and Tucker were reluctant to ride in the Fenton RV if Danny (or any other Fenton) was behind the wheel.
Sam had picked Tucker up in front of his house; she'd called Danny to see if he wanted a ride, but he'd left early that morning, so the goth and the techno-geek were the first to stumble upon the beauty in the parking lot.
"I bet it's fast," Sam said longingly as she got out of her car and walked closer to the object of her current affections.
"I bet it costs a fortune," Tucker said, slamming his door. "It's foreign."
"It's fabulous," Sam sighed.
It was a Ferrari. It seemed to lounge in its parking space, as if it were far too cool for the other cars and it was just waiting for the cast of a John Hughes film to show up and ride off into the sunset. Like any good Ferrari, the paint shone candy apple red in the early morning sunlight.
Tucker was getting a kick out of Sam, who was sidling worshipfully around the hood. "Hello gorgeous," she said. "What's your name...?"
"Her name is Get Away From My Car, Vampira," a voice called. Tucker and Sam both turned to see Dash Baxter crossing the blacktop. His Casper High gym shirt was clinging to him, soaked with sweat; he'd apparently been running laps on the track before class. "I don't want her to get infected with goth. She likes quarterbacks."
Sam frowned. "She's too good for the likes of you."
"That is a hot car, Dash," Tucker said appreciatively, purposely not referring to the car as "she". "How much did it set you back?"
"More than it costs you to exist, Foley!" Dash sneered, popping the trunk. Resurfacing with a gym bag, he slammed the trunk and jabbed the air between them with his keys. "Now keep back two hundred feet, losers. And don't park your hoopty anywhere near my ride, got that?"
"Hoopty!" Sam bristled. "Baby is not a hoopty!"
Sam was very protective of her Mustang. She'd bought it with her own money—money she'd earned working part time at the veterinary hospital—and was very proud of it. 1993 was the last year Ford made the Mustang with the old, boxy body as opposed to the more rounded modern models, and Sam claimed she liked it better that way. It also helped her keep up the pretense that she wasn't the richest girl at Casper High—a fact a lot of the students still didn't know. Tucker was often curious as to why she didn't buy something better when she could afford it, but Sam had a habit of becoming attached to things that were in need of a little love. Like him and Danny, for instance.
So he repaid the favor in kind by shouting a retort at the retreating jock. "Hit the showers, Dash! I hope you like what I carve into your car later with my keys!" Then he turned to Sam. " 'Baby'? You named your car 'Baby'?"
Sam blushed. "Yeah. People like Dash may think it's a hoopty...but nobody puts Baby in the corner!"
Tucker shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry, Sam, I won't tell the other goths how lame you are."
Instead of a verbal retort, Sam decided on a noogie. She had a struggling Tucker in a headlock back near the Mustang when something shot out and grabbed her ankle.
Shrieking, Sam released Tucker and looked down. A hand the color of caramel was wrapped around her combat boot. The hand was attached to an arm that was in turn attached to something beneath the Mustang.
"Ghost hand!" Tucker shouted.
"What the hell!" Sam said, yanking her foot out of the hand's grasp.
"It's me," Valerie Gray said. "Is he gone?"
"Valerie?" Sam asked.
"Is who gone?" Tucker asked. "Dash?"
"Valerie!" Nathan wailed from somewhere across the parking lot, camera still in hand.
"Oh," Sam and Tucker said together. Amusedly, they watched Nathan's love-glazed eyes scan the parking lot. When he didn't see Valerie, he turned and headed back towards the school.
"Coast is clear," Sam said, knocking gently on the side of the Mustang.
"Thanks," Valerie groaned, crawling out from under the Mustang. "Good thing you parked here when you did."
"You scared me for a second there," Sam laughed. "For a minute, I thought I'd run you over!"
Valerie narrowed her eyes, but she was smiling. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Manson?"
Tucker smiled. Over the years, Valerie and Sam had become—well, maybe not quite friends, but something less than enemies. He still held out hope that they might end up being a happy foursome, if he could just convince Valerie that he wasn't a total loser...
"Thanks for not blowing my cover, guys," Valerie said, getting to her feet and brushing dirt off her bright skirt. "I've got to get inside before he comes back."
"If you need another hiding place, I'd be happy to shove you into your locker later!" Sam called cheerfully, waving.
"Yeah, I'll just bet you would!" was Valerie's answer from behind the gym block.
Tucker laughed. "I've got to give you credit, Sam. You do a good job of trying to get along with her."
Sam shrugged. "Listen, Tuck, I can't be completely antisocial all the time. I have other things to think about. Valerie's not so bad. I'm just still not quite past the 'waste Danny Phantom' part," she said. "Want to go get bagels in the cafeteria?"
"What about Danny?" Tucker asked as they walked towards the school doors. "Shouldn't we look for him?"
"What do you mean? He's over there, hiding in that bush," Sam said. "He's been there since Dash left." Sam waved at the bushes beside the school doors. "Hi, Danny."
The bush rustled. "Sam! You're supposed to pretend I'm not here!"
Sam slapped her forehead. "Sorry, Danny. I forgot."
"Wait a minute," Tucker said. "Why is Danny hiding in a bush, and why are you pretending he's not in there?"
"It's for his video project," Sam said. "I'm supposed to act like he's not filming."
"Wait another minute!" Tucker said. "He's filming you for his video project, Sam?"
"He asked me last night," Sam said, turning back towards the bush. "Right, Danny?"
"Stop talking to me," the bush said angrily. "I'm not here."
"Oh. Right."
"Never mind," Danny sighed, climbing out of the bush. "Did I hear you guys say something about bagels?"
Tucker had figured Sam would last maybe thirty minutes or so before she lost her patience with being filmed. As it turned out, she didn't make it more than ten.
"Okay, even the part of me that's flattered you asked for my help is getting creeped out," Sam said, putting her hand over the camera lens, which Danny had thoughtfully positioned about four inches away from her face. "Danny, it's not fun to eat on camera."
"You got butter on the lens," Danny lamented, rubbing at the camera with the tail of his shirt. "Although, this belongs to my dad. I'm sure he's gotten ketchup and ranch dressing on it at some point."
"Seriously, Danny. Haven't you ever filmed anybody before? You need to back up a little. That's why they make the zoom function."
"I tried that," Danny said. "Remember? The bush?"
Sam sighed and put a hand on Danny's arm. "Look, I know Lancer said you'll get in trouble if you talk about the projects outside of class, but maybe it would help if you told me what it's about so I'd know what to do."
Danny smiled at the warmth of her hand on his arm, but was immediately disappointed when she removed it, having been distracted by something happening on Tucker's side of the table.
"What are you smiling at, Foley?" she demanded.
"Nothing," Tucker chuckled. "I just can't believe Danny's filming you for his project."
Sam narrowed her eyes warily. "That's the second time you've said that. Why is this so funny, Tucker?"
Danny kicked Tucker under the table. Hard. Tucker tried to muffle his giggles, but it was too late. Sam was suspicious now. Danny had a sudden urge to strangle the techno-geek, but he decided to focus his energy on coming up with a plausible explanation.
"Well, of course, I need Sam for my project, Tuck," he said, as smoothly as he could with the Cup of Death still floating before his eyes. "I mean, we're together all the time anyway. It'll be easy to follow her around with a video camera for two weeks!" There. That wasn't a lie, it just wasn't entirely true.
Tucker arched a brow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "This is true..."
Sam looked like curiosity was slowly eating her from the inside out. "What is this video about?"
Danny and Tucker exchanged looks. The ghost boy was clearly pleading with Tucker to help him out.
"He can't tell you," Tucker said after a beat. "Remember? Lancer said we'd fail if we told."
Sam smiled, her patented please-please-give-me-what-I-want smile. It would have melted a lesser man into his socks, but Danny and Tucker had years of practice defending against it. "Come on, guys!" she pleaded. "If I'm going to be in the video, I have to know what it's about, right?"
"Sam, I fail enough projects on my own. I don't need any help from you!" Danny laughed, still fighting off the lingering affects of that smile.
Sam pouted, teeth pressing beguilingly into her lower lip. Danny felt a tremor shake him and his resolve begin to crumble. Tucker must have noticed, because he stomped Danny's foot beneath the table, obviously sending a don't-give-in message. Pain helped. "Seriously, Sam. Can't you just trust me on this one?"
Sam's expression melted into the confident cruelty of a prison torture expert. "You leave me no choice, Fenton."
In order to better film Sam, Danny had taken a seat beside her at the table, with Tucker across from them both. This position put Danny in easy reach, and as soon as Sam finished the sentence, she reached over and feathered her fingers lightly against his ribs.
Life was weird when you grew up with someone. On the one hand, you got to spend your every waking moment with them, accruing memories and learning everything there was to know about them. On the down side, it became awkward to talk about more grown-up things like romance and heartbreak, or to possibly confess to your best friend that you were hopelessly in love with her. But the worst part about growing up alongside someone was that they knew all your most embarrassing secrets, like whose lunch box you threw up in when you were in second grade, or whether or not you were ticklish.
Danny was ticklish, and Sam knew it. His reaction was instantaneous; he tried to slide his chair away from her but she pressed forward. Her momentum carried him out of the chair and onto the floor, where they crash-landed. She ended up on top of him, her weight immobilizing his legs as her fingers continued to jab at his sensitive sides.
"Tell me, Danny-boy," she warned playfully.
Tucker had leapt out of his chair when they hit the floor. "Sam!" he said, laughing in disbelief.
"Sam, don't. Stop. Really!" Danny pleaded through his own laughter, his voice cracking with the strain.
"You gonna tell me?" she teased, breaking his attempted hold on her wrists. "I can do this all morning!"
"Stop. Stop!" Danny's eyes were starting to tear up. His stomach ached from laughing. "I'll do anything you want! I'll do anything you want."
She stopped tickling him and leaned her weight back on his legs, but made no move to get off of him. "Anything I want?" she asked, a barely perceptible gleam in her eye.
He relaxed beneath her, trying to catch his breath. He wanted suddenly to put his hands around her waist, just at the part where skin disappeared into skirt, feel his fingertips touching in the back. "Anything you want."
Tucker's voice wiggled its way into the hushed silence they were sitting in. "Hello? Guys? I'm standing right here," the techno-geek laughed.
Danny ignored him, his senses preoccupied. Just tell me what you want, Sam. It'll be good, I promise...
Something flickered across Sam's face, an emotion he couldn't identify, but there was just a hint of longing behind it that gave him hope. He would just have to help her, show her that it was right. He started to reach for her.
"Um...excuse me?"
And just like that the spell was broken; Sam's head turned and her attention was no longer focused on him. Reluctantly, Danny swung his own gaze to see what had interrupted. Valerie Gray was standing with a bottle of Snapple in one hand and a bagel in the other, looking curious. "Can I get by here?"
It only occurred to Danny then that the rest of the world had continued existing, and that he and Sam were indeed sprawled on the very public floor of the cafeteria, blocking foot traffic in the aisle.
Apparently it hadn't occurred to Sam either; a blush flooded her face and she immediately jumped to her feet. "Hey, Val. Sure. Sorry."
Valerie made her escape, seemingly embarrassed by her own intrusion, but the damage had been done. Sam returned to her chair, and Danny slowly got to his feet. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
"Sorry I tackled you to the floor like that," Sam said, as if that was all that had happened, as if she hadn't felt that electricity pass between them. "Are you okay?"
Danny wondered why she was apologizing. He could still feel the ghost of her weight in his lap, and his stomach was fluttery from more than just the strain of laughing. "Yeah," he said.
And then, unbelievably, she gave him a bloodthirsty grin and cricked her fingers into hooks. "Good. Now tell me what the video's about, or I'll do it again."
"No," Tucker said, reaching across the table to grab her hands. "Danny, just tell her! You guys are going to give me a heart attack."
A couple of synapses in Danny's brain fused as he realized he still didn't have a believable story. If he could explain away ghost hunting to parents and teachers daily, why couldn't he come up with an excuse for this? Why did Jazz have to get all the brains in the family?
And then it came to him. It was so simple he almost couldn't believe it—but Sam would believe it, if he could only convince Tucker to play ball.
He smiled assuredly. "Okay, Sam, you got me. We're supposed to pick a subject and follow them around with a camera as they go about their daily routine."
Tucker gave Danny a look that plainly said how stupid that sounded.
But Sam wrinkled her nose. "That's it? That doesn't sound like a big deal. Lancer's worried people will cheat on that?"
"Well, the videos have to be interesting," Danny said. "We're being graded on content and originality." Once again, not a lie. The assignment sheet did go into detail about that. Shrugging, he continued, "And you're the most original person I know, so..."
A blush tinted Sam's pale cheek. It was so cute that Danny felt guilty, but he was still being truthful—she was the most original person he knew. "Are you sure you didn't just pick me because you couldn't get within fifty yards of Paulina?" she asked, arching a brow.
Danny smiled. "Trust me, Sam. I think I'm past the point where I would have filmed someone like Paulina."
"Yeah, Sam, you're perfect for his video!" Tucker cackled gleefully.
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Danny. He gave Tucker a glare that clearly said "Don't screw this up for me".
"Well, okay." Sam smiled. "This is going to be fun. I can't wait to see the video when it's done!"
Tucker chuckled. "Neither can I."
Danny kicked him under the table, but Tucker only laughed harder.
"So, what are you filming for your video, Tucker?" Sam asked as the techno-geek's laughter died down to hiccups.
Tucker's eyes twinkled and he held up his camera. "Well, I've got you pouncing on Danny on film. That's a start!"
Danny's eyes shot wide, the blackmail implications of that statement freeze-drying his brain. Sam's expression once again took on the prison-torture-expert-look, but this time it wasn't teasing.
"Give me that," she cried, lunging over the table, but Tucker was too fast for her. He took off running towards the cafeteria doors, howling with laughter. Sam gave chase, her eyes promising murder if she caught him.
"Too slow, Sammy!" Tucker yelled, disappearing into the hallway only seconds before Hurricane Sam reached the double doors, screaming "Get back here, Foley!"
The bell rang, and Danny hurried to catch up with his friends, his blood still hissing with the panic and pleasure that had colored his entire morning.
The boys' locker room was the first place the boys had gone without Sam, so Danny didn't bring up the video again until they were safely inside. "So, Tuck, what do I have to do to get you to give me that tape you made this morning?" he asked nonchalantly, double-knotting the laces on his Converse All-Stars.
"Do you know any supermodels?" Tucker teased, trying to fix his hat hair in the mirror.
Danny frowned. "Sam will be mortified if you show that in class." No need to mention that he would be equally mortified.
Tucker grinned cheekily, turning away from the mirror. "I was just yanking her chain, man. There is no tape. I didn't even have my camera on when she did that."
Danny allowed his surprise to show on his face. "Tucker! Don't tease her like that. She was so embarrassed."
"If I remember correctly, she's the one who jumped on you. I didn't make her do that." Tucker waited a beat before adding, "And you sure didn't seem to mind. You were grinning like a fool."
"She was tickling me," Danny said flatly. "Of course I was grinning like a fool."
"She wasn't tickling you in English class or biology, and you smiled through all that, too," Tucker pointed out.
Danny blushed, unable to help it. "Tucker, what is your point?"
Tucker was grinning fit to split his face in half. "You decided to film Sam."
"Yes..."
"For your project."
"Yes."
"The project that she thinks is a film about her daily routine, but isn't."
"...Yes." Danny sighed. "And you can't tell Sam what the project's really about."
Tucker grew serious for a moment. "I won't tell her, Danny. But you should."
"I know I should, and I will. Eventually. But until the time is right, you have to promise me you'll keep your mouth shut, Tuck."
Tucker gave his friend an oh-please look. "Danny, I've been keeping this secret for years. Two more weeks isn't going to kill me."
"Thanks, Tucker. I—wait, what do you mean you've been keeping this secret for years?"
The grin was back. "Ah, nothing, Danny. I think it's great that you've decided to, you know, have Sam help you with your homework. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to...have Sam help you with your homework."
The code, strange as it was, wasn't lost on Danny. Feeling suddenly foolish, he smiled ruefully. "How long have you known?"
"That you were in love with Sam? Since you and Sam won the three-legged race at Jazz's seventh birthday party." Tucker laughed. "Remember when Sam broke the piñata?"
"Tucker, I'm serious."
"So am I! It was brutal what she did to that piñata!" Seeing that Danny wasn't in the mood to be teased, he added, "Danny, it's been obvious for years to everyone but the two of you."
Danny shook his head. "No, it hasn't."
Tucker began ticking off on his fingers. "The Ember thing?"
Danny narrowed his eyes. "That was a spell."
Tucker rolled his eyes and laughed. "Yeah, sure. What about the Miss Teenage Happy Princess Pageant?"
"She deserved that crown," Danny said, a little heatedly.
"And you got to go out with the princess, while Miss Congeniality scratched me up like a cat on crack!" Tucker winced, remembering. "And do I even have to bring up a little something called a 'fake-out m'—"
"All right, already," Danny hollered, cutting the techno-geek off. "Jeez. You're embarrassing me."
"Good, maybe it'll inspire you to actually do something about it," Tucker retorted. "Danny, you guys have so much romantic tension that half the school could write fanfiction about it."
Danny shuddered. "Fanfiction? Don't even joke about that. Some of those writers are crazy."
Tucker punched his friend gently in the shoulder. "I'm serious, Danny. I think it's great you're waking up about Sam. If you like her, then you should go for it."
Danny didn't look like he thought it was so great. "That's only half of it, Tuck. She's always so quick to tell everyone we're not 'lovebirds'." He rolled his eyes and used his fingers for quotation marks.
The grin on Tucker's face reached piano status. "Oh, methinks the lady doth protest too much. I mean, the girl wore pink for you, man."
"That was because she made that wish that we'd never met. She was trying to get my attention," Danny protested.
"Oh, she got your attention all right. You couldn't stop talking about her. And even after we remembered everything, you guys were all blushy in that movie theater. Remember?"
Danny did remember; his eyes went soft for a second. "Yeah. That was...that was just a scary weekend." Turning to Tucker, he lowered his voice. "I'm scared now. If I tell her all this and she's not okay with it, it'll be too awkward for things to stay the way they are. I can't be just her friend. And then it'll be like that weekend all over again, but...forever."
Tucker shrugged. "You'll just have to make sure you steal her heart then."
Danny thought this over, a small smile curving his lips. Tucker made it sound so simple, so possible. "Thanks, Tuck."
"Thank me when you and Sam are crowned prom king and queen. Now what can I do to help?"
Danny laughed. "You can keep this a secret until I'm ready to show Sam my video essay. And try to get her not to talk to me while I'm filming, okay?"
"Done and done." The slap of a secret handshake, and the deal was made, just like that.
Danny checked the laces on his sneakers. "We'd better get to the gym. Tetschlav's probably wondering where the hell we are."
"I'll meet you," Tucker said. "I've got my own video essay to work on. I'll be out in five."
Danny watched Tucker head towards the other side of the locker room. "I don't even want to know," he muttered, walking out into the gym.
As it turned out, Danny found out what Tucker was up to in less than fifteen minutes. In fact, the entire class did.
Gym class had never been Danny's favorite place. Having super powers didn't mean a damn thing if you couldn't use them to jump a horse or climb a rope to the ceiling, and he was constantly being picked on for being something of a wimp, not only by the students, but by the teacher as well.
Speaking of the teacher, Mrs. Tetschlav waved him over as soon as she saw him. "Fenton! Get over here."
"Hey, Danny," Valerie said, smiling at him from beneath the rings.
Veins were already starting to stand out on Tetschlav's neck, and class hadn't even officially started yet. "Now, Mr. Fenton, I know we had to keep the crash cart out during your Presidential Fitness exam for fear of a cardiac episode, but do you think you can at least spot Gray here until I figure out why the rest of the class is taking so long in the locker room?" The last part of the sentence was directed towards the room in question, at about ten additional decibels.
Danny frowned. "I passed that exam."
Valerie tapped his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Danny. Can you help me up?"
As Danny gave Valerie a boost to the rings, he noticed Sam at the foot of one of the nearby climbing ropes. Dash Baxter sneered and shoved the rope at Sam, who caught it awkwardly, then flipped him the finger before starting her climb.
"Where's Tucker?" Valerie asked from above him.
"Dunno," Danny said, eyes drifting to the locker room doors, then back to Sam again. Dash wasn't even paying attention to the goth; he was leaning against the wall, apparently deep in conversation with a petite redhead who was giggling at whatever he was saying. "He said he'd be out in a minute."
Valerie turned a graceful flip on the rings. "Figured out what you're doing for your video essay yet?"
"We're not supposed to talk about it," Danny said absently. Sam was more than halfway up the rope already. No wonder Tetschlav had chosen her to whip Tucker into shape for the Presidential Fitness exam. Although, it had been easy to trick Tucker into training with the promise of a new PDA. Danny wondered how things would have been different if Sam had been chosen as his partner—how would she have motivated him?
"You can tell me, Danny, I'm in the class," Valerie said. The rings clanked as she moved.
"Mm-hmm." Danny allowed himself a smile as he imagined Sam at the end of the outdoor track with a stopwatch, waiting for him. He wouldn't have needed any other motivation.
Then he shook himself out of it. He was supposed to be working on being cool enough for Sam, not getting even lamer by forming elaborate cartoon-style fantasies about her.
"Are you even listening to me, Fenton?" Valerie asked. "I asked you to help me down twice already."
"What?" He tilted his head up. "Oh...hold on, Val, sorry."
It was hard to keep one eye on the other side of the gym as he reached to help Valerie down, but one eye was enough to see Sam lose her grip on the rope as she slid back down again.
He heard Valerie's cry of "Hey!" as he turned on his heel abruptly and sprinted over towards the ropes. He wasn't sure what to do; he just knew that he had to do something. In the movies, the hero always just stretched out his arms and the girl fell safely into them.
Okay, so this wasn't exactly like that, although he tried. Being Danny Fenton, who was still a bit of a wimp despite his secret identity, he hadn't properly braced himself for the impact of another human being. Catching her was no problem, but the sudden extra weight threw him off-balance, sending him to the floor on one knee and an elbow. He gritted his teeth around the pain; he'd broken her fall (and maybe his arm) and that was what was important.
"Danny!" Sam cried, trying to untangle herself from him. "Are you okay?"
Oh, man, he thought miserably. This is so not cool...
Pulling himself to a sitting position, he checked himself for injuries. The skin on his knee was almost completely burned off, and his elbow joint wasn't too happy with him, but nothing seemed broken. He was briefly annoyed at himself for losing his balance—when he was a ghost, he could defy gravity and lift cars. When he was human, he was a klutz.
But he was distracted from his self-deprecating thoughts by the sound of someone sucking air through their teeth. Sam was looking at his knee. "Oooh," she said. "Ouch. Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "No big deal." Actually, it stung like crazy, but falling down was uncool enough. Whining about it would have been worse.
"Why the heck did you do that?" Sam asked.
Why? Didn't she know why? "You were going to fall..."
"I was fine, Danny! Did you think I would have shattered when I hit the ground?" She arched an eyebrow. "And how did you know I was going to fall?"
Danny wasn't sure if he should tell her he'd been watching her the whole time. He was saved from having to answer by Mrs. Tetschlav, who'd seen the whole thing.
"Very good, Mr. Fenton," she said to him, and by extension, the rest of the students. "That was an excellent demonstration of what a spotter is supposed to do. Except that, if I remember correctly, you were supposed to be spotting Ms. Gray, not Ms. Manson."
Only then did Danny remember Valerie; he swung guilty eyes to the rings, where she was still hanging with a resigned look on her face. "Can I please get some help here? My arms are getting tired."
Danny winced. "Sorry, Val."
"Are you okay, Manson?" Tetschlav asked. Sam nodded. "What about you, Fenton?"
"I'm okay," Danny said, wincing as he tried to bend his arm.
"You shouldn't be using any of the equipment without a spotter, Manson," Tetschlav was saying. "You know better than that."
A thought struck Danny. "She had a spotter," he interrupted. "He just wasn't paying attention...Dash," he added, with a frown towards the owner of that name.
"You may have a point, Mr. Fenton, but you weren't paying attention to Ms. Gray either," Tetschlav pointed out unhelpfully.
Danny couldn't argue that point, so he decided to stick with the more important matter. "I was paying attention to Val, until I noticed Dash wasn't watching Sam."
Dash, who'd come over to see the spectacle, only sneered. "Why does she need me, Fentonio? She's got you. And I'd never lay a hand on your girlfriend."
"I'm not his girlfriend!" Sam interjected.
Danny tried not to feel disappointed. He told himself it was a reflex action on her part. "You were supposed to be looking out for Sam. She could have gotten hurt, Dash. And if she had..."
"You'd what?" Dash jeered. "Teach me a lesson?"
Danny felt his ears burning. His fists were itching to teach Dash a lesson all right, blacken his eyes for not keeping a closer watch on his precious Sam. He was aware that if he threw the first punch, he'd not only get detention but also get his ass kicked by Dash before anyone could intervene, but something in the back of his brain was insisting that it was worth it, that this thing should not go unpunished.
"Danny! Are you crazy?" Sam said, seizing his hands just as he was about to cock his fists. "Calm down!" Thrusting her face close to his, she hissed in his ear, "Remember, you can't use your powers here. He'll maul you!"
Danny gritted his teeth. If she was trying to get him to think fighting Dash was a bad idea, she'd failed. Now he wanted to do it even more, not only to teach Dash a lesson but to prove to her that he wasn't a wimp. "Get out of the way, Sam," he said softly.
Her violet eyes were dark and troubled. "Danny..."
"Oh, look how cute!" Dash teased. "Loser love. Hey, Manson, you'd better kiss Fenton goodbye before I kill him!"
"That's it," Danny said, moving Sam gently aside and glaring at Dash. "You—"
Luckily for everyone involved, the impending fight was stalled by a scream from the direction of the girls' locker room.
All heads turned towards the source of the commotion; pounding footsteps grew steadily louder until Tucker exploded from the double doors, a panicked look on his face. He bolted towards half-court, his state-of-the-art video camera strapped to his hand.
"Outta my way, outta my way!" he bellowed, pushing past Danny and Sam.
More shrieking followed, and then Star appeared at the double doors, struggling into her gym shirt. "You're dead, Foley!" she howled, mussing her blonde hair as she poked her head through the collar. A group of girls in various stages of undress surged after her.
"He went that way!" Paulina directed, hopping comically on one foot as she jammed her foot into her other sneaker.
"What's going on here?" Mrs. Tetschlav tried to block the stampede, but the girls flooded around her like a deluge of rage.
Dash guffawed, clapping Danny hard on the shoulder as he walked past. "Good news, Fentonmeister. Your beatdown's been postponed due to Foley taking priority!" He jogged to catch up with the herd of angry girls (and Kwan, who was always game for some bullying). "Hey, don't start without me!"
Sam's violet eyes were wide. "He's doomed," she said in a hushed tone.
"He's lunch meat," Danny agreed, wincing. "I should have known he'd try something like this."
Sam's smile was ghastly. "Well, he can't complain too much—all the girls are finally chasing after him for once!"
Despite himself, Danny laughed. She had that effect on him.
Valerie Gray's pottery bracelets clacked as she reached for a copy of Poems and Songs From Around the World on the library shelf. She dropped the book immediately as soon as she noticed the camera lens sticking out from between two nearby books.
"Ack!"
"Could you move, please, Val?" Danny said from the other side of the bookcase. "You're blocking my shot."
Valerie turned to follow the camera angle to Sam, who was chewing a pencil and staring intently at her physics book. "Danny, what was the answer to question four again?" she asked, turning towards the bookcase, which sighed exasperatedly.
"Sam, we have been over this. You are supposed to act like I'm not here. We're never going to finish this if—ow!"
Valerie's intrusion had put some of the books off-balance, causing them to eventually topple off the shelf and onto anyone who might have been hiding there with a camera.
"Danny? Are you okay?" Sam rose from her chair, and both girls walked around the shelf to find Danny kneeling on the floor to retrieve his camera, one hand rubbing at his head.
"Cut," he said angrily.
"Sorry, I know, I ruined the shot," Sam said.
"No, I mean, I'm cut—one of those books had really sharp corners." Danny took his hand away from his head, revealing a shallow gash across his forehead. "Man, how many times am I going to get hurt today?"
Valerie smothered a giggle behind her hand. "Danny's filming you for his project, Sam? Wow," she said. Danny gave her the sharp warning look he usually reserved for Tucker.
"Yeah, I don't know why, though, I'm totally not interesting," Sam chuckled, helping Danny to his feet. Then she knelt to pick up the books that had fallen. While she was thus distracted, Valerie pointed at the camera with one hand and Sam with the other, giving Danny a "what's going on with this?" look. Danny glared at her, putting a finger to his lips, the message obvious—"Shhhhh!"
Valerie ended the pantomime with her hands raised to show she wasn't touching this one with a bargepole, and Sam got to her feet.
"Here, Danny, let me help," she said, reaching for him, but he shied away from her.
"No, thanks," he said, more harshly than he'd intended to. "I can take care of myself." Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the library.
Valerie sighed. "Way to go," she said conversationally to Sam.
"What did I do?" The goth had an almost comically puzzled look on her face. "I swear, I don't know what's gotten into him lately." She absently shoved the books at the other girl and walked out into the hallway.
Watching them go, Valerie shook her head and sifted through the books in her hand for her forgotten copy of Poems and Songs From Around the World. "Clueless," she muttered.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Danny was muttering as he turned on the water fountain.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. The filming was a complete disaster so far, but his interactions with Sam had been even worse. Girls made no sense—one minute she was pouncing on him and the next minute she didn't seem to even want him to touch her. She could have gotten hurt, and she was calling him crazy for trying to help, for wanting to defend her to Dash. Other girls would have eaten that up (he remembered a disastrous incident involving a possessed Paulina, a jilted Johnny 13, and one very angry Kitty), but not Sam. No, she thought he couldn't even take care of himself, let alone her.
"She drives me crazy sometimes," he snarled helplessly, twisting the tap for the water.
"I know," a voice sighed behind him. Startled, he whirled to see Sam, looking rather penitent. She held a damp napkin out to him like a peace offering.
It was hard to stay angry at her when she was right in front of him. He took the napkin and pressed it to his cut carefully. "Thanks."
She nodded, then turned her attention to her feet for a minute. He felt bad that she'd overheard him, and started to say "I'm sorry," but she said, "Listen—" at the same time. Then she laughed. "You go first."
"No, you," he said, his annoyance evaporating in front of that smile like mist before the sun.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she said. "For driving you crazy. I know I've been messing up your project."
"You're not messing it up, Sam," he promised. "I asked you to be yourself, and that's what you're doing. Just try harder not to notice me, okay?" He laughed. "I didn't mean to say you drive me crazy. Come on, want to try another shot?" he asked, turning back towards the library.
"Wait," she said haltingly, taking his arm before he could walk down the hallway. "There's something else. I forgot to thank you, you know, for catching me when I fell. You know, in gym," she said, as if he wouldn't remember. She was rushing her words; a blush tinted her cheek. "I just didn't want you to get beaten up because of me. Why on earth were you going to fight Dash?"
Even the mention of the other boy's name caused Danny's blood to simmer with rage. "He was supposed to be spotting you. You could have gotten hurt."
"But I didn't," she pointed out. "Thanks to you."
"But if I hadn't been there..." Even as he said it, Danny dismissed the thought. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm always going to be there."
He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until Sam smiled. "You're really something, you know that?" And then she did something strange—raising on her toes, she smoothed his bangs back and dropped a kiss on his brow, gently, just over the cut.
He felt himself flush. "That was sweet."
"Sorry." She looked embarrassed. "I don't know why I did that." She started to back away, but he took her hands to stop her.
"Sam—"
"Everything all right out here?"
Danny dropped Sam's hands and they turned to see Mr. Lancer glaring sternly at them. Danny frowned. Worst timing ever.
"Fine, Mr. Lancer. I cut myself and Sam's just helping me clean it." He pointed to his forehead.
Lancer frowned. "Finnegan's Wake, Mr. Fenton. Only you could manage to get hurt in a library."
"I'm fine, thanks," Danny said dryly. "The bleeding's mostly stopped by now."
Lancer ignored that and looked at his watch. "The bell's about to ring. You two lovebirds get to class."
"We're not lovebirds," Sam stated automatically, then gave Danny a funny look. "Hey, you didn't say it with me."
Danny jerked back to reality. "I mean—yeah—what she said."
Sam retrieved the napkin and handed it to Danny. Even though the bleeding had stopped, he pressed it to his head once again as the bell rang.
Lancer followed, putting enough distance between them and himself that they wouldn't hear him mutter, "Clueless."
Tucker's punishment for attempting to break into the girls' locker room—a week's detention—was surprisingly mild in Danny's opinion. He was shocked that the techno-geek hadn't gotten suspended. He was sure Sam would be, too. He knocked on the doorframe of the home-ec room at the final bell. "Sam?"
The goth looked up at the sound of her name, eyes sore and sad. "Oh…hey, Danny." She was hunched over her workstation, black velvet spilling around her like nightfall.
"Hey," he said gently, surprised at her tired expression. "Ready to go home?"
It was Mrs. Tetschlav who answered, with a wicked cackle from behind a copy of Hardcore Muscle magazine. "Oh, she's not going anywhere for a while. She's got to restitch that whole thing."
"This sucks," Sam groaned, resting her head on her desk. "Go on without me, Danny. I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll just wait for you," Danny said, but she interrupted.
"No—I mean, no, thank you," Sam said, her attention focused mostly on the fabric in front of her. "Just go on, Danny. I'm not a damsel in distress. I can walk home on my own."
Danny sighed. "…Okay, I guess. See you tomorrow."
Tetschlav winked at Danny as he turned to leave. "Don't worry, Fenton, we'll crush that independent spirit. She'll be a damsel in distress by the end of the semester," she called as he walked into the hallway.
"I will not!" was Sam's answer.
So Danny had to walk home alone, puzzled once again by Sam's mercurial change of mood. She hadn't seemed to mind him walking her home the day before. Why was she confusing him like this?
It bothered him all the way home, which led him to break his normal rules and ask advice of someone he'd never thought would know anything about girls.
"Dad?" He poked his head into the kitchen, where his father was at the table, completely engrossed in Canadian bacon. "Can I talk to you?"
It was a great opener. Jack Fenton always welcomed a chance for father-son bonding. Granted, his ideas of bonding usually involved embarrassing heart-to-heart chats or outings on which one of them got hurt—the day he'd taught Danny how to fish, he'd managed to snag his own ear with the hook. Later, Maddie had taught Danny first aid, and Jack's silver-lining conclusion was that Danny had learned two useful things in one day.
So if anyone would know how to smile and be brave in the face of probable defeat, it was his father.
Sure enough, Jack beamed, turning in his chair. "Sure thing, Danny. What's up?"
Danny knew he had to tread carefully. If he mentioned Sam, his father would start winking at him and wanting to talk about things that were far too embarrassing to talk about with a parent. Danny had learned from Jazz that a well-placed analogy sometimes worked even better than the truth. "Dad, remember when you broke the Ecto-Tuner?"
Jack frowned. "Is your mother still complaining about the broken clock radio? Because right after dinner—"
Danny put his hands up in a "whoa" gesture before the explanation started. "No, Dad, it's fine. I just wanted to ask you...well, I mean, the Ecto-Tuner was a prototype, right?"
"Right. It was supposed to pick up ghost communications over the airwaves by filtering out the normal radio signals. My first experiment was to try to use it on a small clock radio, but there were...complications." Jack frowned.
With his father, "complications" almost always meant "explosions". The clock radio now looked as though it had been through a nuclear holocaust.
"But it was just a prototype," Danny said. "There was a really good chance it might not work."
Jack thought this over. "Well, sure, Danny. Even if your calculations are perfect, there's always a chance that something might not work."
"But you tried it anyway," Danny concluded. "Even though you weren't sure."
Jack grinned. "Of course! Trying is the first step towards anything, Danny."
"Including failure," Danny said darkly.
Jack waved a hand dismissively. "Failure is in the eye of the beholder, Danny."
Danny arched a brow; the similarity between that and the video essay project was a little creepy.
Jack continued, "I know it sounds like some tired old explanation a father might give his son, but you never know what will happen unless you give it a shot, Danny. Sure, things might blow up in your face, but you never know when something will work just right and open the door to all kinds of possibilities."
Danny smiled. His father wasn't bad with analogies either, even when he didn't know he was using them. Although with Jack, the phrase "blow up in your face" was probably meant to be literal.
And then, Jack Fenton had one of his rare moments where he found the perfect thing to say. "You know what, Danny? Maybe the Ecto-Tuner isn't the best example. I've got a better one for you."
Genuinely interested, Danny pulled out a chair from the table and got comfortable. "This I have to hear."
"It was back when I was in college. My old chum Vlad, your mother and I were working on a prototype for the Ghost Portal," Jack began. "We were up nights experimenting with power sources, drawing blueprints, calculating numbers...it was strenuous work, with precious few tangible results."
"But Dad, you tried the prototype and it didn't work, remember? Vlad? The ecto-acne?..." Danny wasn't sure how this was a better example of the merits of trying.
Jack reacted to the mention of Vlad Masters the same way he always did—completely oblivious to the sheer, heinous consequences of that event. "Oh, Danny, I'm not talking about the ghost portal. I'm talking about your mother!"
Now Danny was thoroughly confused. "I think I'm missing the point here."
"Hang in there, son. I'm getting to it." Jack grinned. "See, all those long nights working on that ghost portal with Maddie brought us very close together. It wasn't long before I knew she was the woman I wanted to invent all my ghost hunting equipment with. But it was much longer before I got up the courage to tell her so. You see, Danny, your old man isn't always as confident as he looks."
Danny bit down on a laugh. Luckily, his father was still talking and didn't notice.
"I'm sure people looked at us and thought, 'what could a girl like her possibly see in a guy like him?' I'm sure people still look at us and think that."
Danny could think of at least one person who did.
"Sometimes, even I think it!" Jack laughed. "But I finally decided that I was crazy about your mother, and letting her know it was worth any risk of rejection. So I asked her to marry me, and she said yes." The elder Fenton was positively beaming now at the memory. "So you see, Danny, if I hadn't thrown caution to the winds and popped the question, I wouldn't be living this wonderful life, with my wonderful family. I've never regretted that decision for an instant." He laughed and elbowed his son gently. "Gently" for Jack meant that Danny only wheezed and clutched at his ribs instead of being knocked completely off his chair. "Now, I know you probably didn't come down here to talk about girls and love, but I hope you get what I'm trying to tell you."
Danny smiled at his father. "Actually, Dad, you've been a bigger help than you know. Thanks."
Jack ruffled Danny's hair. "Glad to hear it, son."
Danny couldn't help but shake his head affectionately as he walked out of the kitchen. Only his father could have no idea what Danny really wanted to talk about and still manage to hit the nail right on the head.
Author's Notes:
I'm a huge fan of Duran Duran, but my love does not grant me ownership of the lyrics used at the beginning of this chapter. Unfortunately. (sigh.)
1993 is indeed the last year they made the Mustang with the boxy body. I never had a Mustang, but I'd love to own one (no offense to my own beloved hoopty, a white Maxima named Spoiler) and I was once acquainted with a 1993 Mustang that took us a lot of fun places before it died a sad and tragic death in a spontaneous highway fire. Luckily no humans were injured, but I mourn that car.
Hoopty (hoo p 'ty) n. Basically, a car that is in very bad condition. Earmarks of a hoopty are things like taped-up headlights, peeling paint (usually of a grotesque color such as gangrene green, or a highly noticeable color such as Vellox Midnight Purple), a loose bumper, or a very loud muffler (if it has a muffler at all). Crappy plastic decorations on the dashboard are optional and usually fall off as soon as aforementioned hoopty goes over a speed bump.
1. Damn, is Firestar9mm still driving that hoopty?
2. Sam's Mustang is not a hoopty.
"Nobody puts Baby in the corner": This is obviously a reference to one of the great American movies of our time, Dirty Dancing. It is not just a Fall Out Boy song. XD
Speaking of great American movies, John Hughes wrote, produced and/or directed a ton of them. Some of them are: Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Pretty in Pink, Some Kind of Wonderful, Weird Science, and Planes, Trains & Automobiles.
Tucker makes references to a few episodes in this chapter, such as "Fanning the Flames", "Beauty Marked", and "Memory Blank". Likewise, the Presidential Fitness Exam was featured in "Micro-Management".
Poems and Songs From Around the World is a book within a book—it's a reference to Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby. In Lullaby, the book Poems and Songs From Around the World contains a culling song on page 27 that, when read, immediately kills anyone who hears it. XD It's a very interesting take on language and noise as a danger to society.
(sighs and rubs eyes.) I hope I didn't leave anything out. I'm exhausted tonight! Thanks for reading!
Next chapter: Danny can't figure out how to film Sam without her seeing him. Tucker can't figure out what to do for his video essay. And Sam can't figure out how to boil water without burning it.