Hey guys! I'm having some writer's block with my Shamy fic at the moment. Like, HUGE writer's block. But my Danny Phantom fangirl is like a living typewriter right now. So here's the first chapter of hopefully another fic that I won't get stuck on.

-ZG

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For the record, I used to like three-day weekends.

Before the accident, it was a time for hanging with Tuck and Sam and sleeping in. No Dash to give me atomic wedgies every passing period, no teachers yelling book titles in moments of surprise, and no testing out my parent's inventions, because I would be out for the day.

However, in the past year, three-day weekends became a nightmare.

I could give myself an excuse to not go after a ghost when I was at school. My detention slip pile was on its way to towering over Mt. Everest. But three-day weekends became patrol-central. Constant fighting, capturing, and bantering all in an exhausting hell of 96 hours.

But this three-day weekend, oh this one topped it off. Because I wasn't going to be patrolling Amity Park, oh no.

I was going on a camping trip with my mom.

After our escapade with Vlad in the woods Mom thought nature had to do with bonding. She had tried to convince me to go on a weekend camping trip with her every week since. I usually told her I had homework to do, and that being gone for one day would never be enough.

Then this damn three-day weekend pops up. It's the end of the grading period, which means no homework (and for the first and only time I'm sad about it) and it means two to three days of parental bonding.

I try to get Tuck and Sam to make an excuse, telling them that I need to patrol the city. But they say that they can patrol it on their own. They have ten thermoses in Sam's backpack and all the weaponry a ghost hunter needs.

I would be mad at them if I weren't too distracted by my mom packing our things.

"Mom, we don't need our winter coats," I tell her as she is stuffing the bulky outerwear into a suitcase. "It's spring!"

"You can never be too careful, dear," my mom dismisses quickly, ignoring my comment and packing the coats anyways. She zips it up tight. "That's the last one. Now, give me your cell phone."

I defensively cradle my phone in between my hands, hunching and looking at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because in order for this to be a mother-son bonding trip I can't have you texting your friends, of course!" she explains. She attempts to grab the device. "Now give me the cell phone."

I can't. This thing is like my kid. I could never abandon it. I keep my defense.

Mom smiles and slyly snatches the phone away from me. I'm dumbfounded. I can fly as fast as a commercial airline, but somehow she's too quick for me. I look at my empty hands as she locks the phone in a box, along with my Nintendo and a couple of her own devices. She slides the key in her pocket.

"There. No distractions."

I whimper a little. It looks like Tucker's love for technology has grown on me.

We pack everything into the RV. And this time, it is only an RV. Mom made Dad disable all the weapons for the weekend. All she has to protect herself from ghosts were the Specter Deflector, a pocket-sized Fenton Bazooka, and a thermos.

And me, now that I think about it. But she'd be more interested in hunting me than thanking me.

That's the worst aspect of this entire weekend: no ghost powers.

Even if we suddenly were in great danger I can't do anything but be a defenseless teenager. If she knew, I would expect lab testing for days on end, or even worse…ripping me apart molecule by molecule.

So, for now, Danny Phantom doesn't exist. He is taking a small break from Amity Park. At the moment, there is only Danny Fenton.

"Come on, sweetie, get inside!" Mom tells me sweetly. I sigh and climb in the passenger seat, looking at the last bit of civilization I'm sure I'll ever see for the next three days.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Mom squeals.

"Yeah," I agree, faking a laugh. "So much fun."

Mom frowns. "Now, Danny, don't be so pessimistic! The campgrounds are fun and have a lot of sites to explore, and I'm sure getting away from all this pressure for the weekend will help with your insomnia."

I had almost forgotten. After finding me walking around the lab during the dead of night too many times my parents made me a doctor's appointment. He had diagnosed me with insomnia, which I was okay with. Much better than diagnosing me with, "Mad-Ghost-Boy Disease".

"It's a shame those pills didn't work," Mom continues.

"Yeah," I agree again, remembering the moment when I dumped the orange container in the dumpster. They were making me so sleepy the Box Ghost almost got the best of me. "Such a shame." I look over to her. "You're still wearing the jumpsuit?"

She keeps her eyes on the road but acknowledges my comment. "Yes, I thought it was more comfortable than that retched flannel shirt and cotton shorts I wore before. Your father was right, sweetie. Polyester is more soothing."

"Good to know," I comment.

It's silent for a couple minutes, and I continue to gaze out the window. Ten minutes in and no ghosts. That's good.

"So," Mom says, trying to pick the conversation back up. "What have you and your friends been up to lately?"

I'm caught off guard. I've lied and told her and Dad multiple things: we're studying, out at the movies, doing movie marathons…but suddenly I've been thrown off.

"Uh…oh, nothing much, you know," I stumble. "Just normal teenager stuff that normal teenagers do."

She raises an eyebrow. "And what would normal teenagers be doing?"

"Just…stuff," I answer simply, and on the inside I'm slapping myself.

She glares over at me. "You aren't doing any drugs or alcohol, are you?" she asks.

"What?" I ask, confused. "No! We just go the mall and hang out." And catch ghosts on a regular basis, I almost add under my breath, but she's too close not to hear. I swallow the last bit and stay silent.

"That's nice to hear," she says. "And I better not find you with any drugs or alcohol anytime soon, young man."

"Trust me, you won't," I reassure her. After all, I'm too busy capturing Skulker to even go to parties with alcohol and drugs.

"Good. So, how are you and Sam?"

I raise my eyebrows and frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You two have been hanging out a lot lately, I'm just checking if-"

"No! No, it's not like—okay, it sort of is, but it isn't. And I know and I'm pretty sure she knows that I know, too, but it's just…" I sigh. "It's complicated."

The sad thing is, that's fairly accurate.

"Ah, young love," my mom muses. "I remember when your father and I were in college…"

"That's nice to know," I interrupt bitterly. I just want to get to that campground so I have an excuse to walk around. I'm already cramping up.

Mom sighs. "I just want to get to know you better, Danny. You've been a little distant lately."

That catches my attention. I thought I had been hiding it pretty well. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Honey, don't act like we don't know that your grades are slipping. And you spend all your time either in your room or in the lab. Heck, I think you spend more time in the lab than your father!"

"I'm just curious about ghost hunting is all," I lie…sort of.

"I know, I know. And I love that you're getting interested in the family legacy. Maybe one night us two can go out and try to catch that Inviso-Bill." She seethes at my poorly-chosen public name.

I grimace. "Yeah…maybe."

Mom notices my hesitation. "You're not a fan of this ghost boy, are you? I thought with Jazz it would just be a phase, but-"

"I don't hate him," I admit. "He's okay. I mean, he's taking down ghosts for the safety of Amity Park. I haven't seen him do anything harmful."

"What about kidnapping the mayor and stealing all that jewelry?"

I rub the back of my neck and try to keep a good composure. "I'm sure those could possibly be some sort of misunderstanding."

Mom snorts. "Yeah, right. What do your father and I always say, Danny?"

"Once a ghost, always a ghost," I grumble.

"And what are ghosts?" she leads on cheerfully.

"Evil," I mutter, sinking into my chair.

It's silent again for a good ten minutes. I look out the window and watch my breath. Half an hour into the trip and no ghosts.

"How much longer until we get to the campgrounds?" I ask. The tension and awkwardness is suffocating me.

"Just another ten minutes," Mom answers. "I'm so excited! From the brochure I got in the mail the place looks wonderful!"

"Can I see the brochure?" I ask. Maybe, for once, reading will a distraction.

"It's in the glove compartment," she tells me.

I fish it out. "Have the time of your life at Camp Urd-Eath. Hike, bike, swim, and have tons of mother-son-get-together-ness. Funded by the Vermont Luis-Ann Diocese." I look up. "Great. A mother-son camp funded by nuns."

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So did you like it? Was it too bitter? Too OOC? Too…anything? Tell me in the reviews. And I'll try to work on my Shamy fic once I figure out what to do with it, my TBBT readers. Don't grow too impatient.

-ZG