I picked at my skirt, a little nervously, as I made my way toward my new school. Casper High. It wasn't very glamorous and it certainly wasn't the boarding school I was used too, but I had no issue with that. The sooner I put my boarding school – and my life in New Orleans – behind me the better. And Amity was just the place for me to do this.

The first thing I noted (noted not judged as much as some people are annoying pains in my ass, they still have the right to be who they are) was that Casper was separated into cliques. It usually wasn't this obvious, but Amity was a small town for America, and the school had more classrooms than students. It wasn't a surprise that it was easy for the separate groups to spread out across the lawns and front steps, and probably inside too. Although why anyone wanted to waste more time indoors on this beautiful September day was beyond me. Yes, Goths can find beauty in September days. Problem?

Anyway, as I continued my quick evaluation on my way inside (transfer student, you know, got to report to the office first thing) the first thing that caught my eye was the cheerleaders. They were parked on the picnic bench closest to me with the football jocks battling over a football. This, in itself, was not very unusual. What caught my eye was that the girl in the middle (who was stereotypically the head cheerleader, queen bee, most beautiful girl on campus and most popular girl) was not in a cheerleading uniform. She was undoubtedly the queen bee, but she was not one of them. Hmm. A queen bee who was not a cheerleader? Perhaps this school was going to be different.

I mounted the steps of Casper and slipped inside without any incident, which was refreshing. No doubt I was being judged from afar, but with no confrontations over it, I was feeling pretty good. That feeling began to fade, however, when I realized I had no idea how to find the office. I bit my lip, but marched forward determinedly. My combat boots seemed to echo around the halls, which gave the school an eerie feel. It seemed so empty. But that was ridiculous. How could a school be empty twenty-five minutes to the bell on the very first day?

I then turned down the wrong hallway and found out how.

Now, before I go any further, I am not an idiot. I did research on Amity before we moved here and found out why the name sounded familiar. It was the most haunted town in America, probably the world. It was the home of the infamous ghost kid and world renowned paranormal scientists, Jack and Maddie Fenton. It had been featured on the news several times for various spectral attacks, damage, hauntings, world famous ghost hunters coming in to hunt ghosts and how it was no longer the tourist attraction it once was because of the many hauntings. So yeah, I had prepared myself for spooks.

However, to find a fight right in front of me on my third day was something I had not been able to prep myself for. There was a huge dragon filling the entire school hallway. It roared when it noticed me and the air blast forced me off of my feet onto my ass. There was another ghost too, swatting around the dragons head. The second ghost I recognized on sight. It was the infamous ghost boy of Amity Park – Phantom or something. I had a vague memory of him once being called Inviso-Bill but I ignored it.

Except, it looked like Phantom was more annoying the dragon ghost than actually fighting it off. The dragon roared again, and I clenched my eyes shut, beginning to crawl backwards, trying to get out of the hallway. I had sat there, staring, for too long. My survival instinct kicked in but not in time. The dragon ghost swiped at me with its claws, probably thinking I was some new predator. I screamed when it made contact. Obviously, I had not done enough research. I hadn't expected ghosts to be able to touch me, let alone hurt me.

My eyes flew open as I stared down in horror at my newly acquired wounds. The claws had slashed across my torso, ripping my t-shirt and leaving deep gouges that gushed blood. I cried out again in horror as I surveyed my mutilated body, and then another screamed ripped from my throat as my mind stopped disassociating from my body and then pain hit. Oh my god. Did the pain ever hit. I wrapped my arms around my body in an attempt to keep myself together. My arms quickly become slippery with my own blood and tears.

"Hold on!" A voice shouted.

I fell to the floor and prayed that the voice was for me. I prayed the voice was that of a teacher or student that would call for help, call 911, just get me out of here!

I screamed again, unable to contain the agony that was tearing my body apart from the inside out. Another sound washed over my ears. A scream I knew was not mine. Then there were hands on me, rolling me over, exposing my wounds; the blood, the torn flesh, even part of my uncovered breast. I forced my eyes to see over the blur of my tears to focus on the snow white hair and bright green eyes of my savior. The ghost kid.

"Hold on." The boy whispered, and I recognized it as the voice from before. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

I struggled to focus on him, but I could literally feel my consciousness dripping away. And I let it happen. Never-ending blackness seemed a pretty good idea right now. I couldn't face this pain. And you know what, the hospital sounded like a damn good idea too.

(-.-)

I didn't wake up in the hospital. I woke up in my own bed, in my new house. My chest was tightly bound in bright, white bandages, but I could see soft specks of blood peeking through. I tried to sit up, but the small effort exhausted me. I collapsed back against my pillows, my breathing heavy. I tried to stop the breathing. Breathing hurt.

"Mom?" I forced out.

"Ooh!" The shout came from down the hall. "Sammykins!"

I cringed at the name. My name is Samantha (which I detest but will put up with from the following: elderly people and royalty). I go by Sam. My mother prefers to torture me by calling me 'Sammy' or 'Sammykins' or (and this is the worst, are you ready for it?) 'Sammywammybooboo'.

"You're awake!" She continued. I could hear her trademark heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "Dr. Higgins! She's awake!"

My door flung open and my mother – all bright hair, low cut dresses and fake smiles – burst in, followed by Dr. Higgins. The doctor was, thankfully, a woman. I, who had no qualms about my body, still would have been embarrassed to know that a man had been the one to take care of my chest. Although … a slight blush tainted my cheeks. The ghost boy who had been there had seen my left boob. You know what? Whatever. It was a boob. And he was dead. So no big deal.

Right?

"Samantha," Dr. Higgins smiled down from me. "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," I answered, respectfully. Add 'life saving medical professionals' to my list of people who could call me 'Samantha'.

"Well, I can imagine that is to be expected." She pulled down my comforter to check my bandages. She tsked when she saw the blood. "Any pain?"

"Just mild discomfort," I replied, although now that she was fixing the bandages, I was more than a little uncomfortable.

"Well, I left some painkillers with your mother. Two every four or so hours for the first few days and then slowly cut down. I will be by every other day to check on you unless otherwise called upon. My nurse, Daniella, will be by three times daily to change your bandages." Dr. Higgins explained. "I wish there was more I could do for these. But there was not enough flesh left to stitch together, so this is going to be quite a long healing process."

My face twisted as I looked down at the bandages and imagined the gory mess that lay beneath. I didn't want to know.

"Thank you for everything Doctor." Mother smiled. "Especially for the house call, but I just couldn't bear the thought of my Sammy in a hospital all by herself."

"It's quite all right, Mrs. Manson," Dr. Higgins replied, "and Samantha is fine as an outpatient as long as you take it very easy." She gave me 'the look'. That one that all adults seem to know and use when they demand someone younger than them to do exactly what they say. "No getting out of this bed for at least another week. I will give you a further evaluation at that point in time."

"What about school?" I burst out. Not that I particularly cared, but education was the only way to escape my mother. "It just started today and I'm already missing it."

"Well I'm afraid that you have to stay here." Higgins eyed me. "Perhaps your mother can arrange for a tutor?"

"Oh yes." Mother collapsed her hands together. "That seems like a wonderful idea."

Dr. Higgins glanced at her watch. "I really must run, but I will be in touch Mrs. Manson."

"Of course, Doctor. I will show you out." Mother's fake grin seemed to grow wider as she swept out of the room with Dr. Higgins.

I relaxed into the pillow, sliding back under my comforter. I probably wouldn't seem Mother again for a long while. We had this system – I stayed out of her way and she stayed out of mine. The only thing she ever demanded of me was to be present when social situations demanded it and in return I was handed more freedom than most seventeen-year-olds had.

I pulled the covers up, and noted how my arms ached in the process. Maybe I would have to call on Mother for that pain medication Dr. Higgins had left for me. I allowed my eyes to drift shut, but only for a moment. I suddenly pulled them open again. The room had dropped several degrees and I felt like I was being watched. Fearful of another attack, I tried to stay silent but my chest was heaving in fear, and it pulled on my wounds. A whimper escaped my lips.

"Don't panic."

I immediately tensed. There was a voice coming out of fucking nowhere. And I was naked except for my skirt and the bandages. And a male voice was coming out of nowhere.

"Not panicking." I responded.

"I'm gonna show myself." The voice warned.

I couldn't decide if this was better or worse than the current situation, so I let him do what he want. Faster than I could blink, the ghost kid materialized at the end of my bed. I let out a sigh of relief because I knew he wasn't going to hurt me.

"Thank you for saving me." I blurted.

"Yeah, well," he looked down at his feet. "I wish I had noticed you were there before you were attacked."

"Still, thank you. I could've bled to death in Casper High, of all places."

That got a grin out of him. "It's definitely not an ideal resting place." He looked up at me. "My name is Phantom."

"Sam," I responded. "I've heard about you on the news."

He looked a little uncomfortable at that. "Damn cameras." He cursed. "Look, no matter what the news is telling you, I'm not actually a villain."

I shrugged. "I base my opinions on what I see, no what others show me. To me, you are a hero."

"Thanks." He smiled at me. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "just a week or more of bed rest to get me mostly healed and then go from there."

"I'm glad. That ghost is not usually a dangerous one, I don't know what got into her today."

"Her?" I demanded. "It has a gender."

"What?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Did you think that ghosts don't have a gender?" He struck a pose. "Do I look like a female to you?"

I giggled, and it hurt. "Why did you come see me?" I wondered.

"I wanted to see if you were okay and I was curious. I'd never seen you around before and as Amity's unofficial protector, I needed to be sure you weren't a villain."

"As I'm certainly not." I jutted my chin out.

"No," he said quietly. "You're not."

Well, just a new story idea I'm attempting to run with. Let me know if you like it and/or if you want a companion piece in Danny's POV. I don't own Danny Phantom.

~TLL~