One moment I'm fighting by Danny's side as I shoot my ectogun at ghosts. I'm part of a team of superheros. The next moment my cellphone is blaring. As I leap from my desk chair, I knock over a mug of lukewarm coffee.
Rubbing my eyes, I glance at my clock. It's one in the morning - meaning the coffee didn't work and I slept for hours instead of studying. So much for the test tomorrow. I sit back in my chair. Ignoring my ringing phone, I pickup the mug as I observe the damage the coffee did to my math homework. My papers on the left side of the desk are fine. Danny, who'd suddenly abandoned me and his studying after his ghost senses went off, is not so lucky. His papers are drenched.
Groaning, I pull Danny's papers out of the coffee and shake them. He's not going to be happy when he comes back from his ghost fight. I drop the drenched math papers and grab my cell from the desk. The number has Amity Park's area code. Danny must have damaged his cell in a ghost fight. It wouldn't be the first time.
"What's up?" I ask, my voice cracking with grogginess.
"Is-Danny-with-you?" a female voice asks so quickly that the words trip over each other.
"What?" I ask, my brows furrowing before I realize the caller is Jazz.
"Is Danny with you?"
I sigh. The protective older sister strikes again. "No, Jazz, your brother's not here." I picture Danny as I last saw him: in his ghost form, his focused neon green eyes looking down at me before he turned intangible and flew out through my black ceiling. It's not the picture of someone who needs protecting. "He flew out of here just after nine," I say.
Silence.
I watch the coffee spreading across my desk. It's starting to seep into my papers. I should move them.
Jazz asks, "Where did he go?"
"To fight some ghost."
More silence. I start to stack my math papers. Then it dawns on me: Jazz made me save her cell number as a contact, and she's not calling from Fenton Works. "Jazz, where are you?" I ask, wondering if I should be worried.
"I searched the house. I called his cell. He's not home," Jazz says. "I called Tucker. He said Danny was at your house studying. And now he's not even with you."
"Danny always shows up eventually," I say, trying to calm Jazz. "He's a hero d-"
"-You don't understand!" Jazz cuts me off. Her voice is starting to wobble. "I can't find Danny. I even called Valerie. She hasn't seen Danny Phantom since yesterday."
Her words hit me. Hard. If Jazz called Valerie, the Red Huntress, of all people to try and find Danny Phantom, something must be wrong. The years of experience fighting ghosts as a -what? a sidekicks? Danny's friend?- have trained me to keep calm. I need information to form a plan of action to solve... whatever is happening. "What happened?"
"Sam. This is not good. My parents, they've locked the basement." Jazz's voice is wobbling. "They never lock the basement lab! And I can't find Danny. They came home too happy. They're not even night owls. They hunt ghosts and they're morning people. They came home late. I should have known. I saw all the signs. Why didn't I put it together-?" She's rambling now. Jazz is freaking out. Jazz doesn't freak out.
I jump to my feet."Jazz!" I yell into the phone.
Jazz stops talking.
"Where are you?" I ask. My heart is racing, but my voice sounds calm and in control.
"Payphone," Jazz says. She's crying. Her ragged breaths crackle in the phone. "At the Nasty Burger."
"Okay." I grab my jacket that I left lying on the bed. As I run from my room, I start to piece together the unimaginable: the lab is locked, and Danny is missing. "Jazz, I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten minutes." I disconnect the call.
It's not until I've run down three flights of stairs and I'm slamming my front door that I remember I have a midnight curfew. Not that it matters.