A/N: Well, I have three days left of school, and since I'm going to have so much time now to update, I thought I'd publish one of the stories I wrote in science/French. This one was actually kind of hard to write, because I wasn't sure how intelligent to make Danny's inner mind or whatever the hell you call it sound. I mean, when I'm talking and/or thinking to myself I usually use pretty advanced words and I'm only a year older than Danny (I only know that because my favorite episode is the first one we see Vlad in, where he says in that crazy ass British voice, "You're only what, fourteen?), but to me, and no offence to all you bitches who love Danny like he's the guy you're doing it with at night, but he seems a little...unintelligent. So I really was not sure how to write from his point of view, but God knows I didn't want to listen to my teacher blabber on about WAVELENGTHS for an hour and twenty minutes, and I've never written in Danny's POV before, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Please tell me I didn't suck. Please. Or I will cry myself to sleep tonight ~VC

"I think I should tell them," I said one day as I stood by her locker and watched as she rummaged through it, searching for one of her battered poetry notebooks.

Sam paused momentarily to stare at me, raising one of her thin, dark eyebrows. "Your parents?" she said, sounding confused but also somewhat amused at my suggestion, as if she thought I were joking.

"Yeah," I responded carefully. I understood that she was asking why rather than for clarification, and although I knew my answer wasn't satisfactory, as my teachers-or maybe Vlad-would say, I wasn't exactly sure how I should go about explaining what she did want to know.

But it looked like I would have to find some way to answer that question, why?, because she said, raising her eyebrow further, "Why the hell would you want to do that, Danny?"

I thought about it for a minute, trying to decide the best way to explain my reasoning to her. I hadn't mentioned this to anyone else, and although I knew that if anyone would understand, it would be Sam, I knew that she couldn't stand it when I complained or sounded even remotely sorry for myself, and I wasn't sure I could say this without doing exactly that. I decided that I just had to launch into it, even if I did sound slightly pathetic, because I thought that Sam would be able to see past it and realize that I truly needed her help and advice.

"Well, I... Sam, this is...my ghost powers...they're just getting to be too much to deal with. I...I just really don't need all the extra trouble they're causing me. I mean, my parents are already threatening to ground me for life if I don't bring my grades up by summer...said they were going to kill me if I skipped another class...but with these powers, I just don't see how I can not skip another class, how it would be possible for me to bring my grades up. There's just way too many ghosts. And I thought if my parents knew...well, they might be a little more understanding when I come out of school this summer with a huge "F" on my report card and have three weeks of detention for skipping out so much. They might even...I don't know, be able to help."

She raised her eyebrow further still and frowned deeply at me. "What do you think they'll be able to do for you, Danny?"

"Well...maybe...maybe they'll be able to...to remove my ghost powers."

She stared at me blankly for a moment, her expression unchanging, before she turned back to her locker and started looking through it again. She pulled out her poetry notebook, followed by a silver tube of dark purple lipstick. She glared into the small, cracked mirror on her locker door and started to apply a thick coat of lipstick on her lips.

"What do you think?" I asked uncertainly while I watched her.

She continued to stare into the mirror and apply the lipstick, and without turning to me, she said "Doesn't sound like you talking, Danny."

I frowned at her backside. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the Danny I know would never give up so easily. When so many peoples' lives depend on him, he would never let them go unprotected. Even if it meant having to deal with a little extra hardship now and then," Sam sneered, still refusing to face me but glaring at me in her mirror.

"Sam, that isn't fair."

She spun around and looked me in the eyes. Her own were narrowed in uncontrolled anger. Her mouth was twisted in a scowl and she bared her teeth. Surprised and frankly frightened, I took an involuntary step back.

"Do you know how selfish you sound right now?" she shrieked, drawing the attention of other kids passing by in the halls.

"Sam," I whispered, disturbed, offended, and even slightly embarrassed, "you're making way too big a deal out of this. I just-"

"God, it's like I don't even know you anymore!"

With that, she slammed her locker shut and stormed past me, shoving open the door to the girls' bathroom and going inside. I was left in the middle of the hallway with everyone staring at me, and there were a surprising number of kids still there despite the fact that class had already begun. Dash, of course, and his gang of jocks, who never showed up to class on time, were there to witness my humiliation and of course started to laugh. Soon enough, everyone there was also laughing at me, and I simply stood there and listened, too disheartened to do anything else.

"Aw, looks like his little girl friend dumped him!" Dash said, causing the laughter to get louder.

I sighed and internally prayed that my humiliation would end soon, and I guess God was listening, because soon enough Mr. Lancer came out into the hallway and ordered everyone to get back to class. I slowly started for my literature class when Mr. Lancer said, "Not so fast, Mr. Fenton."

I sighed deeply and smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. "Mr. Lancer," I tried, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Of course you didn't, because you're the type of student who gets straight A's and has never missed one of my classes, correct, Mr. Fenton?" he sneered sarcastically, his hands on his hips.

I sighed and slammed my forehead against Sam's locker. Mr. Lancer grabbed my wrist and started pulling me through the hallway, to the principle's office, I assumed at least. I let him drag me, knowing it was pointless to defy Mr. Lancer once he'd made up his mind.

But when we'd almost made it to the end of the hallway and to the stairs, Mr. Lancer suddenly stopped dragging me. Confused and slightly alarmed, I looked up at him and saw that his normally pale green eyes were now hellishly red. He frowned down at me for a moment, staring deeply into my eyes, until a malicious smirk spread across his face and he let go of my wrist.

"You know, Daniel," he sneered, "I don't think I need to take you to the office."

I stared up at him in surprise. "You don't?"

"No," he hissed, his grin widening. "In fact, I think that Dash Baxter is the one who needs to be taught a lesson. Do you agree, Daniel?"

"I...I guess so."

"Well then, I should be getting to it."


He flashed me that unholy grin again before turning away and walking down the first flight of stairs. When he got to the landing where I could still see him, he looked back up at me just as I was about to go back down the hallway to my literature class.

"Oh, Daniel?" he called, making me pause and look back.


"This time, let's just talk before we engage in battle, shall we? I need to tell you something, little badger."

He then turned and disappeared down the next flight of stairs, leaving me with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide in disbelief and rising horror.

I felt a cold, rough hand fall on my shoulder and I slowly turned around.