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I don't own DP.

DP---Chapter 3: The Unexpected

Sam finally got so fed up with bitter flashbacks that she automatically went to Nasty Burger to grab some snacks. She was thinking of calling up Val, her best friend, to have some company but she realized that spilling her annoying dreaded thoughts to her wouldn't really do any good. Especially, when she wasn't even considering the matter as being an important one.

She breathed inaudibly as she chewed the top portion of her straw. Watching all sorts of people coming in and out of Nasty Burger's seemed to be the best distraction. There weren't that many seeing as it wasn't a weekend. She glanced at its patrons, some sipping down their sodas, eating mighty meaty burgers, talking to their friends, some were even doing both--eating and talking. Disgusting.

At the far corner there was a young couple seating across each other,dating. They both looked in the same age as she was. The boy had a brown hair with hazel eyes and was gazing intently at his date. He was grinning at her with a flash of unknown knowledge in his eyes. Sam turned to glance at the girl. She had that movie-star blonde, shinning long hair, she had her hands down on her lap. Sam's purple eyes trailed down as she looked at her, wearing a pink floral spring dress. . . the girl's got slender, bare legs and . . . hands. Sam quickly recognized the scene. Guy groping his hands to his pretty date's legs. The girl, whoever she was, wasn't even flinching! More disgusting. Ick.

Sam refused to look at them. Why in the world she decided to be in here anyway? Her humble room was the safest place for her yet she stupidly got the idea of going out to free her mind. For the hope of relaxing and letting the time pass unconsciously. What a waste. She felt the longing feeling of walking so she stood up, cup of drink still in hand then turned to leave. Or so she thought.

The next thing she knew, her drink was artistically blotched on someone's white shirt and its left over was dripping from her hand. She heard a guy cursed under his breath. Great, so she accidentally bumped onto a guy and spilled her drink to him. That would be a great distraction and it would absolutely take her mind off of Danny. She mumbled an apology as she looked up, surprised to be met with the most beautiful mesmerizing sky blue eyes she had only seen in Danny. Damn it! It was him. It was Danny. He was right there hovering above her with brows knitted together as if he'd heard her attempting to shut him off from her mind.

"Uh. . .I-I'm s-sorry." She fumbled with her words. Damn. Why did that always happen when he was around?

"Yeah, you said that already." He replied with a lazy and annoyed look.

"I'm really sorry." She said again, her gaze fixated on the liquid now creeping on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Okay. . . now what? She didn't make a move. She didn't know what to do. Did she need to get some tissue to wipe his shirt or offer to do the laundry? What in the world should she do?

A few awkward years went by and she heard Danny finally spoke. Too bad she didn't understand it.

"Huh?" Her voice was that of the newly awakened drunk girl.

"You're. . .blocking. . . my. . .way. . " He repeated as if talking to a mentally ill person.

Sam tilted her head side to side. Her eyes scanned the area as if watching a poor quality blockbuster. Look at that, she was standing between two tables. Right on the aisle. Yeah, she did a successfully great job on obstructing Mr. Badboy's majestical path. What a perfect day.

"Sorry." She whispered for the umpteenth time.

Danny exasperated heavily, arched an eyebrow, clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest. The basic irritated movements of a cocky asshole. "If I'd kiss you, would you get off my way?"

Whoa. Did he really just say that? She gaped at him, her eyes filled with confusion and sudden inexplicable irritation,maybe even anger. She felt like smacking the guy right on his damned face. He was truly a disrespecting he would always be like that. She absently took a step back, opened her mouth to retort-

"Thanks" He mumbled as he wasted no time brushing past her then strutting away.

Sam could almost feel him smirking behind her back. Her fist clenched, accidentally crumpling the empty plastic cup. It gave a small, crackling sound. Then she stomped toward the glass doors, tossed the cup to a nearby trash can and slid out of the place as casual as she could. Apparently, touring around Amity Park was really hard when several Danny-disturbed thoughts occupy your mind.


There was something Sam liked about Fridays. It was an obvious reason she made up since she was little. Every four-year old kid could think of it. The only good thing about Fridays? It weren't like Thursdays. Thursdays were more of a drought, Fridays were more of a sucking-week ender. Which meant that you didn't have to worry about waking up early the next day and doing the same damn thing all over again.

But since she got up from her bed today, she felt something was going to happen. And that something didn't actually appeal to her.

Sam hated surprises and instincts. For her, they were just one and the same. Both were only going to end up in a sure disaster. And it would certainly just left her the butt of jokes. However that didn't bother her. She could ignore them without even noticing she was doing it. It was the disappointment that she didn't want to bear.

And today, it looked like that she was going to get a humongous disappointment. Way larger than the Giza pyramid. . . Because today was the day the creatures who control fate gather up in a classified conference just to play with her jumbled emotions. And they hired Mr. Lancer to do it for them. Well, more like manipulated him to get to her.

What was her first clue? Let's see, aside from getting the unfortunate encounter with Mr. pain-in-her-head yesterday and leaving him all soaked up (her stupid fault). She was now sandwich-ed in an uber complicated and darn awkward situation between prioritizing her grades and keeping her unlabeled emotions intact.

Very untimely, Mr. Lancer gave them 'his ultra special project' and that was to conduct a real interview. As in the face-to-face talk with some older, well-experienced person sort of interview. The thing Sam dreaded the most-- talking to other human beings. It wasn't that she was afraid of them, it was for the fact that she was a Goth. And being a Goth, to adults seemed like having the A(H1-N1) virus. Just a little worse. They looked at you as if you were a freak to the good o'l nice society. As if you were going to kidnap their kids suddenly and brainwash them to be your little toy soldiers. It was more than annoying, it was really, really insulting.

But uh-uh, that wasn't the reason Sam learned to hate this day. Sure, the interview thingy had sucked but what ruined her entire day was the other fact that they would do the interview in buddies. Not an individual activity nor a grouped one, but a partnered one. And guess who was her assigned partner? None other than that obnoxious, annoying person she despised and liked at the same time. Danny Fenton.

Liked it or not, she'd be spending her supposed-to-be-alone time with a guy she didn't even want to know and if he ever tried to ditch this thing, she'd probably be left mourning over her low grades. So, she desperately needed to approach him and talk to him and spend some time with him and-stop. Not again, she wouldn't let her imagination run wild again. After that humiliating event yesterday, she didn't know if she could still come up to him, but hey, she just have to talk to him when actually needed. Right? But how would she do that if she couldn't even get herself to spare him a glance?

Suddenly, her thoughts were sliced into pieces as she heard someone calling her name. She looked up and then wished she hadn't. There he was, standing in front of her seat. Actually, he was hovering above her and she felt the urge of deja vu.

"What are we gonna do?" Not much interest there.

"We?" Okay, she hadn't meant that to sound that dumb but she was too perplexed to analyze things.

"Yeah, we." He stressed the word we, bouncing his finger back and forth between him and her. "We're partners remember?"

Another obvious point from Mr. Danny Fenton, ladies and gentlemen. Sam sighed inwardly. Cockiness, one thing he could never afford to lose.

"Yeah, I know we are. But I haven't been informed about our interviewee." Yeah, fine, that was smooth, no fumbling with words, no idiotic questions. Sam knew she could make through it. She just hoped.

Danny held out a stapled set of papers that resembled those of criminal profiles and read it aloud to her. "According to this, we shall conduct an interview to a married couple with three kids." He took a really bad dramatic pause. "And, from the the way it's written on here, it looks like we're going to ask so many freaking questions about family!" He finished with another abrassively dramatic thud on her desk.

He just threw the mechanics in front of her. Obviously showing he wasn't interested about it. But there was a thing that caught Sam's ear. There was a slight change of tone when the word family left his mouth. Something Sam couldn't quite put her finger on. She rolled her eyes in self-annoyance. Apparently, she'd be forcing herself not to flinch everytime she'd hear the words we,us and our. And she'd be expected to use those pronouns too. That was definitely great!

"I'll just be hanging around Amity. Don't forget to keep in touch." He said as he turned away.

"Yeah." Sam answered yet Danny was already out of her sight. Well, that went fine enough.


"What do you mean you're not planning to do that project?!" Valerie Gray bellowed at her best friend. Managing to fetch the attention of most of the kids flooding the whole cafeteria. She quickly shut her mouth and shot them daggers with her eyes.

Lunch time came and Sam had just told her that she wasn't anywhere going to do that Lancer-related thingy with that guy.

"I told you, Val. There's no freaking way I'm going to interview a married couple with him." Sam hissed under her breath, completely aware of the people giving them odd looks. She stabbed her plastic fork to her salad so hard she thought she heard the plate cracked under.

"Alright," Valerie sighed. "Tell me what's so hard about this. Is it the project,the schedule or the partner, your partner?" Sam swore she saw a glint in her only friend's eyes and she didn't make any effort to hide her instant irritation.

She swallowed a few gallons of air to force herself to calm down. "It's the project, of course-"

"Yeah, right."

Sam shot her a menacing glare.

Valerie emitted a grunt and crossed her arms over her chest. Signaling Sam to go on.

"Thank you." Sam breathed impatiently. She took another breath before she started again. "I'ts the project that I'm having problems with." She received a twicthing eye from her friend, a silent disagreement. She continued. "Look at these questions," She passed a blue folder across the table. Her browned hair friend caught it without even blinking and opened it. Her eyes darting back and forth as she read the contents.

1. How long have you been married?

Well, that was the classic question. Valerie shrugged then decided to speed through the other queries that appeared usual for her. She jumped to the climatic ones that Sam pointed out with her shimmering, onyx black fingernail.

7. How do you keep your relationship with your adolescent kids without being overprotective?

So, that one was a good question. What the heck was freaking out her best friend Sam?

"I don't see any problems with these." Valerie shrugged as she closed the blue folder and laid it back on the table. "They're all. . ." She searched her mind for the right term. " .. . family-oriented."

"That is the problem." Pointed Sam with her finger. She inhaled deeply through her nose. "Family, is the thing I never talk about."

Her best friend surrendered a sigh. "Yeah, I know." She took a pause, waiting for herself to blurt out the thing that was circling around her thoughts. "Family and relationship, two words you least use in a sentence."

"More like a paragraph." Sam corrected. They both knew that the Mansons were a huge blur when it comes to that matter. Sam's mom was the sun and Sam was the wolf. Not only her mom was the brightest star in the solar system but she was also the star, the antagonist of Sam's life. And she was the wolf who only let itself free at night, when it was sure the sun was gone. Scrath that, she wasn't a wolf. Wolf was a family-oriented animal, it hunt in groups. She was a. . .fox. A fox was a loner. Yeah, that's more likely Sam.

"Yeah." Her best friend agreed. "But that has nothing to do with your guy." She smirked triumphantly as if she just received the best actress award.

Sam huffed in utter disbelief. "My what?"

"Your guy." Valerie answered, her eyes conveying sweet innocence but her tone implying a different, other then chewed and swallowed watching her best friend's face turn into a beautiful scowl.

Sam shot her a another dangerous glare then started eating her food. She averted her gaze from Valerie and ignored her completely. She gripped her plastic fork a little too hard. Maybe this was not the best time to look for some consolation, not when her best friend was acting like a bi-


Her thoughts were shattered by the voice. The voice she never expected to say her name. The voice she definitely didn't want to hear right now.


As bad as she wanted to ignore it, she couldn't. She just had to bear the speaking terms for her damn grades' sake. She stopped eating and turned to look up. What the heck do you want with me now? She wanted to scream out loud. But instead of doing that, she just stared at the person calling her name and waited for the reason, his reason.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"



I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. Please forgive me. Please?