#Danny Lancer has a nice ring to it don't you think

[surelysilly]

can you hear me? [danny phantom]

happy angst day!!!! i hope this is angsty!!!

It’s a new school, a fresh start. You’re so excited you can barely breathe, eyes darting from window pane to unfamiliar and new people walking ahead, beside, behind you.

Class is almost upon you, thought, so despite the restless energy bodily contained, you make it to class without talking to anyone. It’s English, but you’ve already forgotten the teacher’s name. The man is behind his desk, and you dother a moment before he notices you.

“Transfer student?” he asks, and you nod. The bell dings and who is maybe the last of the class darts in, a boy with dark hair. The man frowns at him, and the boy shoots the teacher a sheepish look before taking his seat. “On time for once, Mr. Fenton.”

“I haven’t been late once this semester, Mr. Lancer,” the boy cheeks, Fenton.

You blink, and mutter the name to yourself. Mr. Lancer. Right.

Something… sad, drifts across Mr. Lancer’s face, highlighting the lines on his face, but before you can think more on it, he’s standing. “Yes, that is true… well. Class, today will be the first day of a new student…” he starts, and drifts off, looks at you.

Oh! Straightening, you say, “My name is Chaim Blau, it’s nice to meet you!”

There are a smattering of Hellos in return, some friendly smiles in your direction.

“Yes, Mr. Blau will be joining us from here on out. Please make him welcome, and Mr. Blau take an open seat and we’ll begin.”

Seat. Empty seat. There’s a few scattered around, but Fenton has about one on every side of him. You hope no one is late, and head for the window seat in front of his. There are whispers, but you’re too giddy to care.

“Is this seat open?” you say, hands tight on your backpack’s straps.

Fenton brightens. “Yep, Tucker and Sam sit beside and behind me but this one is good.”

You sit with a relieved smile. “Thanks, I’m,  um, y’know, Chaim,” you say, something of a rush with nerves.

“I’m Danny,” the boy says, and pointedly looks past your shoulder.

Mr. Lancer’s looking at you when you turn around in your seat. He’s got that strange look to his face again, eyes intense. Confused, you furrow your eyebrows, but then his face smooths over.

He clears his throat. “Alright class, we’re starting a new unit today…”

Class passes like a breeze, the second and third even more so. Danny isn’t in those periods, but you do share lunch. So, you’re looking for him when another student taps your shoulder.

“Hi, you’re the new student, right?” she asks, unsure. You nod, and her shoulders ease, just a little. “Oh, good, okay. I’m here to invite you to eat lunch with me and my friends.”

She points, and a table full of a mess of other students wave back. You grin back.

“Sure, I’ll sit with you guys, can my friend Danny come too?”

Her face immediately sours, not with distaste you think, but. Something like unease. “He always sits at that back table,” and she points this out too. You actually see Danny, and he spots you in turn. Waves. You don’t wave back. “He… He can’t sit with us.”

You frown. “Well, that’s not fair,” you say, and shift your tray in your hands. “He’s nice too.”

The girl grimaces. “It's… not that. Look, you’re new, and don’t know yet–” she starts, and then bites her lip. You feel like maybe she’s done this before. “Maybe you ought to learn the hard way,” she mutters, and walks off without so much as a by-your-leave.

Weird, and mean. You huff, glance briefly at the table full of now solemn fellow students, before making your way to Danny. His table is empty save you two, and it’s depressing.

“Anyone else coming?” you ask despite it.

Swallowing a mouthful of food, Danny shakes his head. “Tucker and Sam aren’t here, and my sister graduated last year, so it’s just me today.” Your indignation must show on your face because he adds, “Look, it’s alright. People think my parents are beyond strange and avoid me as a result. I don’t care for them anyway, so.”

“So,” you echo, a little sadly. This is totally unfair. “So. What do they do then?”

Danny narrows his eyes ar you, tentatively says, “Hunt ghosts. Or, well, try to prove they exist.”

Your spoonful of what you hope is applesauce bumps into the corner of your mouth. “What?” you squeak, surprised. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah,” he hedges, unsure. “That doesn't… freak you out, or something?”

“Well, no,” you admit, and scratch at your right ear. “It’s a divided debate whether they exist but… I believe there’s a way to communicate but we really shouldn’t. At least not start the conversation. If the dead have something to say, they’ll find a way.”

Danny blinks at you. “That sounds..  oddly specific.”

You shrug. “It’s a topic,” you say, maybe a touch defensive.

The other boy raises his hands in surrender, but the conversation is dropped. Lunch goes nicely after that, and sadly, you have to part ways with Danny again, sharing only but the one class you find. He puts his cell phone number in yours, a little envious of the smartphone you carry compared to his razor.

Tomorrow comes quickly, dawns bright and breezy. Mom sees you off at the entrance, and you dither, waiting for Danny. It’s ten minutes til, and still, he hasn’t shown up. You shift anxiously for a few more minutes before giving up, and make it to class right after the bell rings.

“Get lost, Mr. Blau?” Mr. Lancer asks, arching an eyebrow.

You nod, glumly, because you did turn down the wrong hall at first. Turning, you see your seat, and behind it, Danny, looking out of the window.

He doesn’t look at you until you sit down into your desk, bookbag thumping against its legs. Danny brightens. “Hey,” he starts, and at your disappointed look, pauses. “Um, did I do something to you…?”

“You left me hanging,” you grumble, and at his quizzical look, continues, “we were supposed to meet up at the front doors?”

He tilts his head. “Uh, sorry, I don't… have we met?”

Your insides run cold. “Um, yes?” you venture. “I just transfered yesterday…?”

Danny shakes his head. “You must have me mixed up with someone else, I was absent yesterday, so…”

So.

“This isn’t funny,” you say, and voice wavering. “I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“Oh, we can be friends? My name is Danny,” he says, and actually offers his hand.

“This isn’t funny!” you shout, and then just as quickly quell at a hand on your shoulder.

It’s Mr. Lancer. “Mr. Blau, step outside with me, okay?” he says, and you nod, stiffly, and refuse to even look at Danny.

The class is whispering, but your mind’s swimming as if through sludge. Your first friend. Stupid. Of course, prank the new kid…

The hallway is silent, long and empty, unfamiliar. You miss your old school, suddenly and irrationally. You’d hoped to leave behind the cruelty, but. Clearly you haven’t.

“Mr. Blau…”

“Why would he do that?” you demand, and the edges of your vision are going blurry. “I didn't… I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“Mr. Blau,” Mr Lancer repeats, stern, you quiet, cowed. The teachers at your last school didn’t care either. “Chaim. Mr. Fenton… requires patience, if you’re to be his friend.”

You wipe at your eyes, sniff. “Like… special needs?”

But Mr. Lancer is shaking his head. “No, he's… Oh, there’s never an easy way to say this,” he mumbles, and seems to deflate. “Mr. Fenton… Danny, he’s dead, Mr. Blau.”

Your heart stutters. “W-What?”

“He’s a ghost,” Mr. Lancer says, and the sadness is back on his face. “He died, but he doesn’t quite realize that, well. He’s no longer alive.”

Dread overtakes you. What that girl said to you yesterday echoes in your ears. “I, I can’t,” you say, and. “I can’t. ”

“I understand,” Mr. Lancer says, careful to keep any disappoint from his voice, but you hear it anyway. “You can sit beside Miss Keller from now on, she’s directly across from you.”

Your words haunt you all day after you change seats, make careful work of ignoring Danny’s curious looks. If the dead have something to say, they’ll find a way. Lunch is a quiet affair and eaten alone surrounded by people who don’t try to interact with you, sure the other kids are thinking, Told you so. Classes drag by, and the day ends.

“Mom,” you say, and she glances at you briefly, eyes mainly on the road. “Mom, there’s a dead kid at school. A ghost.”

She blinks. “You met him? Is he nice?”

Betrayal stings. “Why, why didn’t you tell me?” you demand, vision going hazy. “I, I looked so stupid trying to be his friend.”

The car takes a right. “Well, maybe he has something to say?” she offers, and you flinch. “Everyone deserves a friend, and everyone he knew is gone now. Tell me, how would you feel if no one wanted to be your friend because of what you are, hm?”

“But… But this isn’t the same—”

“Was he mean to you?”

Your silence is answer enough.

“He’s stuck, but adaptable, and he’ll eventually remember you. But. But. If it’s too much, no one will judge you,” she continues. “He won’t even remember it by tomorrow.”

But I’ll remember, you think.

“No one is forcing you, I’ll put my foot up someone’s butt if I have to,” she promises, and it startles a laugh out of you. Butt. “Ah, yes, teenage humor, never fails.”

“I love you, Mom,” you say, earnest.

She smiles. “And, I love you.”

The next day, you’re already in your seat when Danny arrives. It’s like the class is collectively holding their breath to see what you do, but all you do is smile at his wide eyed look.

“Oh, hey, new here?” he asks, and drops his backpack on his desk. Danny pauses after a moment, squints. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

You turn around in your seat, heart beating maybe a little fast. “Maybe, but I’m the new transfer student, Chaim,” you say, brightly.

Danny grins, the bewilderment fading from his face. “Oh, well, if no one’s said it yet, let me just say,” he starts, and then chirps grandly, ”Welcome to Casper High!”

#batpoopwrite #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom au