...Never write something while watching 6teen. It's a great show but... The things it can do to you mind while watching... (shudder)
Also, never open tabs when perusing TVTropes. I just spent three hours on there doing nothing. I love that place, I do (it spurs random ideas) but it's so distracting!
Sorry that I didn't update yesterday. I had a paper to write, an act in Henry IV, Part 1 to read, and a test to take, not to mention my evening class. It was a lot to do. It doesn't sound like it but when you wake up around noon on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays it is. Plus I didn't really have this chapter done until today because I didn't really know what to write.
Okay, I'll talk about a few things after the chapter, in particular Mr. Lancer. Interesting case, he is.
For those of you who like this, check out some of my other works. CAFÉ EVANS and FINDING HOME are a little series.
Summary: Samantha Manson, or Sam, has many things to deal with; her parent's disappointment, she knows all of the police force by name and face (and not because she wants to), moving to a new city, her grandmother's slowly dying, her Necromancy is getting stronger, she has no instructor to teach her, and she's not exactly the most popular girl in school. As she learns about this new city, she learns of its mysterious secrets and as to why so many haunts happen there. While trying to find out how to help this city, she finding that she slowly crushing on a kind of cute geeky boy whose parents hunt supernatural things. AU. She eyed the yellow tape, daring it to keep her from the school grounds. After a moment, she decided to ignore the forbidding warning of the black DO NOT CROSS letters.
Disclaimer: I do not hold any legal rights to Danny Phantom or to any of the characters you are going to read about. This story, however, is my own original idea, with a nod to Meg Cabbot's Mediator series and Kelly Armstrong's Darkest Powers trilogy for inspiring me somewhat.
Do Not Cross
Chapter 8
Misperceptions
"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings."
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, 1.2.140-141
"She just ran off?" Tucker asked, gaping at Danny, who nodded. The two met up in front of the school after classes ended. Danny would have gone after Sam, but the bell had rung and Mr. Lancer had closed the door.
"Do you have any idea why?" the dark-haired youth said.
"Sam's doesn't semm like the kind of person who ditches a class without a good reason. There must have been something she saw before she entered the classroom."
"You don't think she saw a ghost and got kidnapped by it, do you?"
"Although it's highly unlikely, I wouldn't cross it off our list of possibilities. Since that ghost portal got turned on, ghosts haven't been the standard issue. They're different. A ghost kidnapping Sam wouldn't surprise me. Although, she would have put up a pretty good fight."
"So... should we go look for her?"
"Why don't we go check out the library?" Tucker suggested. "Maybe she left a secret message or something for us."
They headed back to the library and did a quick look around. There wasn't any secret message from Sam, nor was there any evidence that she had been kidnapped, much to Danny's disappointment.
"Are you boys looking for something?"
Both Danny and Tucker jumped, not expecting to see Mr. Lancer standing there. The two instantly relaxed.
"Hey, Mr. Lancer." Tucker said. "How was your summer? Cook up any new... spells?"
"Potions, Mr. Foley, not spells. And no."
"Wait. What?" Danny asked.
"Dude, Mr. Lancer is a Wiccan, a male Witch. You know, they cast spells and stuff." Tucker explained. "Witches are more into healing and stuff, while Wiccans are more into battle magic. But, really, they could learn either one."
"I thought a Wiccan was those wannabe Witches who worshiped nature or something like that."
"In the Old English, Wicca was used to describe a Necromancer and then later a male Witch. It was adopted later by a human, Gerald Gardener, in 1954 to describe his work. That's how in came in to human use."
"Why would he do that?" Danny asked.
"He was English."
"...That explains nothing." Tucker said slowly. "The English are hardworking industrious people. They also discovered a great way to eat fish and french-fries."
"And yet so many madmen have come from England."
"Mr. Lancer, you have ancestors from England. I do too. Heck, even Tuck has a few, a long time back." Danny said.
"Please don't remind me." Tucker grumbled.
"What did they do?" Mr. Lancer asked.
"Worked as slavetraders."
"Slavery is a very important part of American history, Mr. Foley. It would do you some good to brush up on it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Now, can either of you explain why Miss Manson missed class today and why Mr. Fenton has a strange new glow?"
Mr. Lancer drove them to the Manson Mansion. He openly gaped at how massive the building was. Someone could live there?
Danny and Tucker unbuckled and got out of the car, grabbing their schoolbags. The weight of them already heavy with homework.
"Are you sure she's home?" the teacher asked.
"Either here or the hospital." Tucker said, walking up to the front door. He pushed the doorbell button and listened as it echoed inside. The maid, Kat or Kate or whatever, answered.
"Yes, may I help you?" she asked, her face showing no recognition or betraying any emotion.
"Er, is Sam home?" he said.
"The Miss is upstairs. She came home in quite the hurry. Did something happen?"
"No," Danny said, "she just left."
"Perhaps she had enough school for one day." the maid suggested.
"May we come in?" Mr. Lancer asked politely. The maid looked him up and down.
"And you would be...?"
"Mr. Lancer. I teach several English classes at Casper High. Mr. Fenton, Mr. Foley, and Miss Manson are some of my students. If you would be so kind as to let us in, we would appreciate it."
"And what do you want with the Miss?"
"I simply want to know why she left before my class this afternoon."
Danny and Tucker watched the exchange. The maid was tightlipped and did not like Mr. Lancer, by the sound of her tense voice. Her body posture was straight, not relaxed as it had been when she spoke to the teens. Mr. Lancer kept a relaxed posture and smiled kindly; if he saw how his fellow conversationalist was, he didn't show it.
Danny decided to break the tension.
"We really just want to see if Sam is okay." he said, pleading.
The maid looked at them, frowning. With a sigh, she opened the door to allow them to enter.
"She's in her bedroom."
That was all they needed to hear. The boys dashed up the stairs and to the familiar setting, Mr. Lancer right behind them. They found Sam crouched in a corner on her room. She looked up, startled, when they entered. Her violet eyes were wide and frightened.
"Sam!" Danny cried, seeing how disheveled she appeared. He crouched down by her side. "What happened? Why'd you leave school like that? What's wrong?"
She didn't answer, she just pointed at Mr. Lancer. Her arm trembled.
"What about Mr. Lancer?" he asked softly.
"Reaper." she managed to say through her quivering.
"He's not a Reaper. He's a Wiccan." Tucker said, holding up his hand in a true Boy Scout salute. "He's a friendly, promise. He knows that you're a Necro. I told him. I should have warned you, sorry."
Sam looked down, still trembling. She stood up.
"You," she said, raising her head to look at Tucker, "are so dead! Just wait until I get my hands on you Foley!"
After things between Tucker and Sam settled down, they went to the library, and Sam asked for the maid to bring refreshments up to them. They mostly talked about what Sam missed in class, which wasn't very much, but Mr. Lancer had papers for her and things for her to fill out and sign.
"I've never met a Wiccan before." she admitted, nibbling on an Oreo and looking over one of the papers. "My bubeleh knew a few in the city, and they would come over sometimes, but I'd usually be out patrolling or at school or something. I'm sorry that I ran out on class today. It won't happen again, swear."
"It's nothing to worry about." the teacher said with a smile. "Mr. Foley had the same reaction last year. Although, I'm surprised Mr. Fenton hasn't noticed until now."
"Danny's still learning to control his powers." Tucker said, watching as his friend tried to snatch a cookie and failing. Multiple times.
"I hate intangibility." Danny mumbled into his arm, glaring at the traitorous appendage.
"Perhaps," Mr. Lancer said, "some training is in order."
"You could train him?" Sam asked, surprised. Traditionally, training was only done by family members (i.e., Sam's grandmother, Tucker's mother, etc.), however it was not that uncommon to have someone being trained by another person unrelated to them. She had met an Alchemist and a Necromancer in Chicago who were being trained by a family friend of theirs'; he had taken them in when their parents died. That was not unheard of, either. The number of Reapers were on the rise, after all.
"Of course I can. I am sorry to hear about your grandmother, Miss Manson, but I am sure she would want you to continue your training."
"What training?" Tucker asked. "The only thing she was ever really taught was how to be a Necromancer, look out for an Alchemist, and to fear Reapers. I've had more training than she's had."
"It's not bubeleh's fault." Sam said defensively.
"Settle down." Mr. Lancer chided. "You're not children. All three of you have more responsibility than any of your classmates – although many of them could be as great as you three are."
"What do you mean?" Tucker asked.
"Every student who has ever passed through the hall of Casper High are not normal. Amity Park is a cesspool for all things weird and abnormal, after all. Most don't break out of the chains that bind them to being human. Only a few, like you three, ever become bigger than you could have ever hoped."
"You mean anyone, including that Paulina chick," Sam said with disgust, "could be like us? I thought that it was something genetic, something that could only be passed down from one generation to the next."
"Sometimes, like your friend Daniel, people can be made to be supernatural, I guess you could say. It is genetic, to some degree. Most people wouldn't survive the great shock his body had. If either of you have entered that contraption, you would have died. Paulina would have the same fate. However, if she were injected with some of the ectoplasm, as I believe it is best known, she would be transformed into something."
"Do you have any idea what?" Tucker asked, looking interested now.
"No. Each person is different. If one were to look at their family trees, they would notice that all the races intermingle at some point in time. Say, perhaps, that people of two different races married one another, like a Necromancer and a Soothsayer. One of their children might take on the trait of one parent, another would take on the trait of the other, and the last could take on both. Most times, these traits stay hidden for several generations until the trait is jump-started.
"I'm sure all of you know who Abraham Lincoln is, correct?" Mr. Lancer continued. All three nodded. "He was the child of a Necromancer and a Soothsayer. His sister, Sarah, lived for a long time but she never showed any signs of having any powers. Lincoln however did. He was a Soothsayer. One of the last ones. That is, until Mr. Fenton came along."
"So, what was the whole point of that lecture?" Sam asked. Mr. Lancer sighed.
"Some people can't help what they are, others can change their fates, and some have the ability to be greater than they are. Abraham Lincoln accomplished more than what any man could have during his life. Soothsayer blood is hunted and treasured. Many knew what he was, and yet he still rose to greatness. You three are on a very difficult path. That ghost portal is going to cause problems in the future, several of your peers' will be awakened, and all three of you are going to go through some difficult training. The question is, are you three ready?"
NerdyWriterGirl, you were correct about Lancer. I intentionally slipped that bit of information in (as I purposefully did with Soothsayers for Danny – which took a bit longer but still), expect the warlock part. I decided to go more old school and call male Witches, Wiccans. Why? Because I did a crap load of research. Seriously, go look at Crystalinks "Wicca" page.
(To Wiccans out there: Take no offence, as everyone else should know that this is just work of fiction, entertainment, for you to enjoy. If anyone does take offense, please let me know and we can talk about it. I'm a pretty understanding person.)
While there really is no fact the Lincoln could see into the future, I believe he could. Some people are capable of seeing a short glimpse of what is to come (having had a few myself). It's all about activating that part of your brain while you sleep.
Something everyone should know, I put in bits and pieces of important information about characters, places, and other such nonsense is never there by mistake. I like to make my readers think. Not because I'm mean (although, I am), but because literature is a form of entertainment that is supposed to make you think. Not like movies, where you can watch them brainlessly.
Speaking of brainless activity… I have a Twitter and a Facebook. ;D (I'm going to keep reminding people, so get used to it.) News about updates will usually be posted on both. My Twitter also is where I post some funny things, pictures of food, my random thoughts… Pretty much anything because it's right there on my phone, easy access. My Facebook, as I've said before, is the quickest way to contact me. I'm on several times a day and I generally check out all notices before doing anything else. Follow me on Twitter, like me on Facebook. (I will not get a MySpace! …Maybe a Xanga. Is Xanga still cool?) Dear lord, social media.
Oh! Don't forget, my poll is still up for the rest of the month. After that, I may start working on a collection of one-shots that go along with this story. It's mostly things that are mentioned but never explained in full because I didn't want to at that time. If you haven't voted yet, do so!
Because I'm bored, I baked an apple pie for everyone who reviews! Everyone likes apple pie. Unless you're allergic, then I made peach and pumpkin for you. Cyber pie!
Thank you to everyone so far. Your support is beautiful. Lots of love to you all.
I'm extremely ADHD today. Wow. And I thought my teacher having a mattress delivered to our classroom was weird. (Yes, he really did have a mattress delivered to our classroom. We were going to ride it down the stairs but then we found out it was for his kid's bed. So, we drew a giraffe on it instead. :D)
My life is a series of interesting events. One hilarious things always follows another. Especially for my dog. Who smells like Play-Dough because she was groomed yesterday for the first time in almost three months. She looks like a poodle now. It's really funny.
…This dragged on longer than I wanted…