Just My Luck
Rated for: (Yes, I love doing this) Mild language, horrible fight scenes, a little bit of violence, plotting, and well-sought after revenge. And what else? Coupleness.
I just went to the Danny Phantom Nick page, and clicked on characters. When I got to Sam, it said this in big, bold, capital letters: DANNY AND SAM ARE NOT A COUPLE! They're just two friends who share a psychic connection.
Psychic connection, my ass. If that's a psychic connection, then Romeo was the biggest macho-ego-freak anyone ever read about. ((Please note sarcasm))
Guess what? This is Danny/Sam. Wo0t. Don't like it, too bad.
Thoughts, or a flashback. You should know the drill by now.
Just gotta get out- just gotta get right outta here!
-Queen, "Bohemian Rhapsody"
My first ghost was a cat.
It was orange, and had a bit of a squashed face. I was three years old.
I would wander around the house for it, calling, "Mr. Kitty! Mr. Kitty!"
"Mommy, can I keep the orange kitty?"
"What kitty, Samantha? Honestly, there's no cat there. It's just your imagination." She turned out her heel and left.
I was three years old and I learned one important thing.
I could see things that other people couldn't.
I learned at an early age not to tell people that I saw ghosts.
For some reason, I remembered this as I walked down the halls of my school. I was passing the walls I knew asbestos was growing, down past the moldy freshman lockers, and down past the burning chemistry lab.
My combat books made clunking noises as I wandered down the hallway I knew so well, and when I turned the handle the door squeaked a bit. I grinned. My school was falling apart.
The secretaries, all of them looking eighty-five or older, rolled their eyes when they saw me. I rolled my eyes back, and decided to glare at them from under my black bangs. I slid sideways in my seat, resting my feet on the old, worn out table.
I stared at the ceiling and became fascinated by the cracks in the ceiling, which have somehow always looked like a hippopotamus. I knew I would be here for five minutes. So I waited until…
"Samantha Manson, the principal would like to see you."
I swung my feet to the ground, walking to the door. The handle fit in the palm of my hand perfectly.
Like we were meant to be together, I thought wryly. A slight smile crossed my face as I pushed the door all the way open.
"Samantha, Samantha, Samantha," sighed the ancient principal, Mr. Jones, a balding old man in his fifties, "Apparently you have-"
"Practiced my rights in the terms of the First Amendment. I refused to dissect frogs and walked out, right to down here." I picked at a loose thread in my purple dress. "I know, I know."
"Samantha…" Mr. Jones sighed yet again, "What are we going to do with you?"
"Take me out of that psycho's class." I answered without thinking. My eyes widened as I realized what I just said.
Oh shit. I am so in for it now.
"Samantha Manson, at this rate, you will not be able to get into even a decent college unless you change very quickly, and it's only the third month of your freshman year!"
I waited for a second. Then,
"And look at this, Samantha: Breaking and entering on multiple accounts, you've cut class five times this month, and you trespassed on private property six times!" Mr. Jones took off his glasses and massaged his temples.
So shoot me if I had a few messy jobs to attend to. I'm the only medium for miles around.
"I think what you need is a fresh start." Mr. Jones concluded.
A fresh start? Does this mean he's changing my schedule?
"Samantha, your mother is moving you to Amity Park, New York in a matter of days."
I nearly fell out of my chair.
Amity Park, New York?
You've got to be kidding me.
"Amity Park? Amity Park?" I repeated to my mother a few hours later, "Am-"
"Yes, Samantha, I know!" My mother scowled. Her blonde hair bounced a bit as she sighed, "You'll be moving at the end of this week."
"I'm leaving California? I'm leaving Haywood?" I repeated, "To go to somewhere up in the boonies?"
"Samantha Manson, I know you are not happy about this. But this is for the best. You need a fresh start, and I need peace of mind!" My mother finished vehemently, "Now go pack your things."
"Fine." I turned around with a roll of my eyes, stomping all the way up the steps.
I flung the door open to my room, stomped inside, closed the door, and promptly flopped down on my bed. I refused to move for five minutes.
Finally, with a sigh, I threw open my closet. A grin quickly appeared. I was taking everything that was black or Goth in some way. I dug around for my Converse, and once having found them, I threw them over my shoulder.
My mother left boxes at my door, so I stuffed every square inch of them with things I cared about, including most of my clothes. I glanced at my calendar.
I was leaving in two days.
"Mom, I'll be fine." I refrained from rolling my eyes, so I distracted myself with adjusting the strap of my backpack.
"Alright, Samantha," My mother sniffed, "Make sure that Aunt Elma calls us to tell us that you made it to Amity safely."
"I know, I know." I shifted my weight to my other foot. "Can I go now? I kind of have to board the plane."
"Fine. Go. She'll be fine." My father assured my mother. "Sammy can take care of herself."
I inwardly flinched. I hated Sammy almost as much as Samantha. I waved, and walked through the terminal as fast as I could. I got to my seat without a problem, rented a set of headphones, and promptly went to sleep.
"We are now arriving at the Kennedy Airport. Please lock your trays in the upright position, and we are a little bit ahead of schedule. It is 2:45 PM, local time."
I stirred from sleep, yawning and stretching out. I checked my watch and blinked. My watch was still on West Coast time.
Thirty extremely tedious, boring, mind numbing minutes later, I was walking out of the terminal, searching for the woman "who bears a great resemblance to myself".
My eyes gazed the crowd in a bored manner and I yawned. I was hungry. My eyes finally landed on a woman.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
"Sam? Sam Manson?"
Hallelujah, praise the Lord. Someone says my name right.
I raised a hand. "It's me, Aunt Elma."
As soon as I got within ten feet of her, she stuck out her hand to shake. "It's Elma Manson, pleased to meet you."
I shook it back. "I'm Sam Manson."
Aunt Elma took one of my carry-ons from me. "C'mon, let's go get your luggage."
I scowled. "My mother apparently shipped all of my clothes to you last week."
Aunt Elma furrowed her brow. "Ah, I remember now."
I was going to learn very soon that Aunt Elma was a tad bit absentminded.
"Have you ever heard of Amity Park before? It was established as another town about a hundred and fifty years ago, and then abandoned for quite some time."
My heart started racing. A hundred and fifty years? A HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS? The place is going to be crawling, crawling with ghosts.
"Then maybe, oh, I dunno, seventy-five years ago it just started up again!" Aunt Elma smiled. My mother was right. We had the same smile.
Meanwhile, my brain was still trying to process about a hundred and fifty years of ghosts.
My mother had sent me somewhere haunted.
My life was perfect.
Two and a half hours later we had made it to Aunt Elma's house. Excuse me, mansion.
The place towered at three stories and must have spanned twice the length of a normal house. A gate ran around the perimeter. For some reason, the Radley house from To Kill a Mockingbird popped into my mind.
Aunt Elma turned to me. "Most people have that impression."
I shrugged and nodded. The air in Amity was brimming with energy.
I was going to have one hell of a time getting most of the ghosts to move on. For some reason, I was destined from birth to play shrink to little ghosties, a few of whom weren't too happy about having to move on. So they take it out on me.
I placed my hand on the railing and was aware that Aunt Elma was right behind me. I turned around. "How old is this house?"
Aunt Elma pursed her lips. "Around twenty years old, I think."
"But there was a house that stood here way back when that burned down."
I stiffened. Great. Just great. This is just my luck, to land a haunted town and a piece of haunted land.
Aunt Elma pulled ahead of me, leading me down a hallway to a door. "This is your room."
She pulled the door open.
I noticed three things at first. I sucked in my breath.
One, my bedspread was a mix of black, silver, purple, navy and fuchsia, which I immediately fell in love with.
Two, there was a window seat overlooking a river, which would make a pretty scene at sunset.
Aunt Elma looked at me. "Are you alright?"
I nodded. "I'm fine. I love my room. Thanks."
Aunt Elma nodded approvingly. "How do you feel about Chinese?"
"I'm a vegetarian!" I called after her.
"Me too!" She shouted from somewhere down the hallway.
The third thing I noticed was sitting on my window seat. I marched right up to it. I knew what it was the minute I saw it.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded my hands on my hips.
"Whaaaa?" He jerked around and I gasped for the second time since I saw the room.
He was gorgeous.
He was also dead.
It's Aunt Elma because Harvest Folk Group rocks. I tried to say, "Kathy has orange tic-tacs!" But I apparently said Aunt Elma instead. And she's single because I don't feel like making an Uncle.
She just met Danny. Whoopee, I love AUs.
I googled Amityville. It said it was in New York, so that's where Amity Park is. Haywood is an actual town in California. My great aunt lives there. She's awesome.
I'm going to have lots of fun with this. :D
Review. Please. Now.