Hello.

As you know, this is my first story. Please be nice- flames are welcome, as long as they make sense. I don't like 'ThIs StOrY sUxX' or 'give up this is bad' reviews. They make absolutely no sense and are silly. If you are going to criticize me, make it constructive and give at least an explanation. That's all I'm asking folks.

I've gotten some help from my good friend Imaginary Whisper on this. Also, she asks you review her work too. Kudos to her!

Disclaimer- I do not own Danny Phantom or any related characters. They are the sole property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios.

I am currently reading The Silent Boy right now. I got the inspiration for this from that book. It's kind of a parody or 'spin off' of it. I really suggest you read it. It is an excellent book.

(General POV)

Samantha Manson awoke to the sun pouring into her room through her red velvet curtains. She cringed as the bright light hit her face, forcing her to open her amethyst eyes. She turned to her other side, facing the door, hoping to get a few extra minutes of sleep before Hannah, her personal maid, came to wake her and get her ready for the day. Sam pulled the covers up over her head.

A knock came upon the door, and a following "Sam? Are you awake yet?"

Sam groaned and let out an "I am now."

"Today is the day you go to work with your father", Hannah said, cracking open the door and peering her head in. "You still plan to go, right?"

Hannah was a hired girl, with red hair and freckles, and bright blue eyes to top it off. She was short for sixteen, and her body and hands had shaped from hard work. Her hair was almost always pulled back and she wore knee length dresses- usually Sam's old ones or ones she brought from her home. An apron always adorned her front. She was usually barefooted or had on some old sandals.

Sam yawned and stretched, pulling herself out of bed, revealing messy ebony hair, a petite frame and pale skin. She walked lazily over to her wardrobe and pulled out a black floor-length dress with a white ribbon on the waist and spaghetti-strap top. It was her favorite late-summer dress.

Hannah moved from the doorway, allowing Sam to change. She appeared a few minutes later to inform Sam that her breakfast was ready.

Sam nodded and put on some her old heels that were worn and close to needing repair. She liked those because they were comfortable and they irked her mother.

She walked swiftly down the stairs, pulling up a little of the front of her dress to avoid tripping. Sam had learned the hard way by not listening to Mrs. Manson.

She appeared in the family's formal dining room, meeting her mother, father, and elderly grandmother for a light breakfast.

Her grandmother smiled warmly and her mother greeted her with a "Good morning, sweetie."

Her father was engaged in the morning paper, as he was every morning. Sam chuckled and sat at her place at the table. Tofu and orange juice awaited her as she looked at what her breakfast was to be. Sam grinned- she enjoyed being a vegetarian.

Her father was a land surveyor, and today his job was to look at some land next to a textile factory. Sam was eager to go- she wasn't interested in her father's job, just the factory next to it. Sam was a very curious teen.

"Father", she said, after a bite of tofu. He kept reading the paper. "Father", Sam said again, with urgency. Sam was also an impatient teen.

"Thurston, dear", Mrs. Manson said. He cleared his throat, looking up at his wife. "Yes honey?"

"Sam was talking to you", she explained. Mr. Manson glanced at Sam. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Today is the day I go to work with you, Father", she said. Mr. Manson blinked and thought for a minute. "It is, isn't it? Eat up, darling, then. Our lunch break isn't until after noon."

Sam smiled. "I will."

Her mother was a teacher- Sam had no desire to go to work with Mrs. Manson; she hated school as it was.

Sam kissed her mother and grandmother good-bye minutes later. "You have fun, Sam", her grandmother said, her wrinkled face tightening as she beamed at Sam. "You've grown up so fast."

Sam smiled at the elderly woman and said, "But I'll always be your little 'Sammy'."

Her mother called as Mr. Manson and Sam were leaving, "You behave! And you should have worn different shoes!"

Her grandmother touched Mrs. Manson's arm. "Relax, Lillian. Sam is a young lady now. She may do as she pleases. And I do not blame her for wearing those shoes- she will be on her feet all day."

Mrs. Manson relaxed and sighed. "Seems just like yesterday I was feeding her a bottle. Now she's out trying a job."

The stable boy, Dash, had already hitched the horses up to the carriage and was waiting with them while Sam and her father walked towards them.

"Good job, Dash. I can take it now", Mr. Manson said. Dash nodded and began making his way back towards the stables to clean stalls and tend other horses.

Mr. Manson helped Sam into the carriage, and then hoisted himself into it.

Dainty, the horse on the right whinnied and clopped her hooves. She loved taking the family places. Fran, the horse on the left, snorted and shook his head, his white mane stirring up dust. He was the laziest horse the Manson's owned.

Mr. Manson pulled on the reins and made a 'click' in his mouth, telling them to go.

The horses started off, Fran being a smart alec, began to trot and throw Dainty out of line. She too began to trot, making the carriage bounce and Sam be bounced clean off her seat.

Mr. Manson slowed the horses down, berating Fran and starting them off again. "I better not be late for work because of that horse", he hissed.

They pulled up to the 100-acre lot that was supposed to be a hotel. Mr. Manson jumped off, and then helped his daughter off. He tied the reins to the hitching post and began the trek up to his colleagues to survey the land and point out things that needed repairing and such.

Sam listened and watched, taking in everything- in one ear and out the other. It was obvious Sam didn't want to be here- she had a bored expression on and was looking around constantly.

When her father and co-workers were involved in their work and were completely oblivious to Sam, she slipped away to the factory. Quietness turned to very noisy as she neared the textile factory. An odor emitted from it- seemed like bleach. Sam wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This has got to be bad for their health", she thought.

She stopped short upon entering the factory. (She had gone around back). Children were doing adult jobs. One was at a large tub, throwing lint-covered fabrics into the foul-smelling liquid. "Oh my", she thought.

A few girls were near a conveyor belt, rolling up fabric that had just come from the tub. Their wrinkled hands and watering eyes appalled Sam.

She took a few steps nearer the rear entrance of the facility. The bleach smell got heavier, and she pulled out her hankie to cover her nose from the scent.

Sam heard a loud thud behind her, and whirled around to see what had made it. A Latina girl had fallen down, fainted actually. She lay there, not stirring or making a sound. No one came to help her. Sam didn't know whether to call for help or leave the poor girl lying there. The latter won, upon seeing many more on the ground.

Sam pressed on into the factory, seeing many, many, more children doing jobs that could kill them. The sights saddened her.

Near the weaving looms, however, a young girl with auburn hair and cerulean eyes stopped Sam.

"Whatever are you doing in here?" the girl exclaimed. "Your health could be at risk! You must leave!" Sam blinked. The girl had a frantic look on her face. Sam wanted to stay, but she knew that the girl was just trying to help her.

"I'm…I'm looking for someone. The person is here. I must find them", Sam lied. "Oh. What is their name?" the girl asked.

"I do not know their name. All I know is that they are here and I have been sent to find them and take them with me", Sam said, hoping desperately the girl didn't catch on to her lie.

The girl's face softened. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy", Sam said, saying whatever first came to mind.

"I hope you know what they look like pretty well- all the boys are down at the other end of the factory shoveling coal into furnaces or moving the coal. Usually their faces are covered with soot and coal dust", the girl said. "Oh, and my name is Jazz. It is short for Jazmine. Come find me if you are having trouble- you know where I am", she added, motioning her head towards the loom.

Sam agreed she would and continued walking down the main part of the factory. The bleach smell faded, and a new scent came, making it hard to breathe. Sam knew it was the dust and soot in the air.

Her toes hit something soft and fine. Sam looked down, a surprised look on her face. She had walked right into ground-up coal. The reason it was there was peculair- there was no apparent use for it.

She kept walking, glancing around at the boys around her. All of whom saw her stopped abruptly- none had seen such a lady. Where they come from, their mothers and sisters wore hand-me-downs and rags.

One coal-boy in particular caught her eye. He was at the end of the factory, near the side entrance. He had short, shaggy black hair and tanned skin. He was tall for his age- he didn't look but fourteen. He was standing alone, in a corner in the shadows, like he was hiding from someone or trying to get out of doing work. Sam walked faster to meet the boy.

More boys stopped what they were doing to admire Sam. She paid no attention to them. She had her eye on the one in corner.

By the time she reached where he was standing, her face was gray and she was very sweaty. She smelled of coal and sweat. That didn't matter in the least to her right now.

When she walked up to him, she heard a boy of apparent Asian heritage mutter; "Fenton gets the girl on his break. I can't even get one to look at me anytime."

Sam rolled her eyes.

"Hello", Sam said pleasantly. The Asian boy looked over and said, "He doesn't talk. Some say he's stupid. But he's a hard worker."

Sam blinked. "Why doesn't he talk? Who doesn't talk?" she thought.

"Why don't you talk?" she asked. The boy's eyes met hers. He shrugged. Sam noticed he had gorgeous blue eyes.

"I see you work here in the factory. Do you work here in the coal area?"

The boy shook his head. He walked out the large doorway, motioning Sam to follow.

"His name's Danny!" Sam heard the Asian boy call.

Sam nodded, knowing he could see her.

He led Sam over to a workbench, where woodwork would take place. She saw other boys sculpting wooden spools for thread. Danny led her over to an empty bench, which was his. He showed her a half-sculpted spool. It looked very good, compared to the other boys' spools.

Sam knew he was artistic- she liked artistic guys.

"Are you still on your break?"

The boy looked at a clock inside the factory. He sighed and shook his head. Sam was delighted. Now she got to see him make and possibly finish his spool.

The boy sat down and began to press a foot pedal, making the spool spin clockwise. Danny picked up a chisel and began to shape the spool. Little wood chips flew off, some hitting his face, but the boy didn't seem to care.

Sam watched as the middle got smaller and the ends got rounder and larger. It was amazing to her.

Danny let the machine slow down, and stops. He examined it, then his expression saddening as he saw he had made a small mess up. Sam did not see where he had messed up- they looked just like everyone else's.

But Sam knew that he could tell and he began to take it off the stand. Sam stopped him.

"Since you messed up on that, can I have a go at it?"

The boy cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, but stood up for Sam to sit down. He showed her how to press the foot pedal to go the same speed he was. He gave her the chisel and watched as she tried to copy his smooth movements.

He shook his head and twitched the corners of his mouth in humor. He put his hand over Sam's and guided it the way he did. He tried to show her she had to grip the chisel lower to get it right, but he knew that she was afraid of it.

He nudged her leg with his foot, telling her to let up on the foot pedal. She rose up slowly on it, like Danny did. She hoped she had done at least something right.

When the machine stopped spinning, the spool looked quite different.

"Errrr…" Sam started. Danny furrowed his brow.

The left end of it had disappeared. There was no end on it- it was just round. Even if it wasn't usable, Sam wanted to keep it. Danny was about to throw it in the waste pile, but Sam took it from him. "I want to keep it."

Danny shrugged.

The girl called Jazz and Mr. Manson came around the corner. "Sam!" he called. "What are you doing back there?"

"I'm just watching how…spools are made, Father! That's all! Is it time to leave?"

"Yes! Come on now!"

"I'll see you later. Tomorrow maybe", Sam said quietly to Danny.

His eyes met hers again.