A passerby wandering past the alley that evening might have, at first glance, thought the shape rummaging in the dumpster was some sort of wild animal. There was little to suggest its humanity anymore: the tattered blue hoodie was almost unrecognizable, and the faded jeans were so caked in dirt and filth that it was impossible to tell what color they had originally been. It would have only been when the figure looked up, tired blue eyes meeting those of the passerby, that they might have realized that this wasn't a giant raccoon, but a teenaged girl.
Though, of course, there was no soul around, living or dead, to see her desperate search or nervous glances. That's why Danielle had chosen this particular dumpster, after all. Almost no one ever came down here, but located as it was behind a restaurant, there was usually some messed up order or old ingredients left out for her to scavenge. The pickings today, however, were even more meager than usual. She slumped to the ground, back resting against the metal, trying to ignore the fact that she was shaking. It had been days since she'd eaten. Her luck had once again run out.
She smiled faintly at that thought, a little amused. As if she had ever had anything resembling good luck. She'd been out on the streets since about a month after she was born, forced to steal, lie, hide, run, in order to keep anyone from locking her up or discovering her secret. It had been alright for a while: the traveling was fun, and with her ghost powers, it was easy for her to avoid detection. But she had gotten older, and it had gotten harder. She'd been caught, more than once. And now she was wanted all over the place, for having escaped jail. The occasional radio report she heard about it made it clear that they were still trying to figure out how she'd managed that. It's impossible! It's as though the girl, whose identity is still unknown, walked right out through the wall.
Which was precisely what she'd done. But now, she had to be even more careful that usual. Getting caught again would be even worse. Because this time, she wasn't sure she could escape. Eventually, they'd figure out her connection to Amity Park, and Vlad Masters, and Danny Fenton.
Danny. She hadn't thought about him for a very long time. She hadn't spoken to him since he'd graduated high school, over a year ago now. Even before that, he'd had less and less time for her. He always apologized, talking about school things and ghost fighting and friends and girlfriends… she'd stopped paying attention. The reasons didn't matter much. She'd gotten the hint: he had a lot of life outside of her and what she needed. So she'd stopped coming back to visit regularly, just dropping by once in a while, less and less frequently. When he asked what she'd been up to, she'd avoid the question, or tell him grand stories about places she'd visited. She never once mentioned how hard it was, or how she kept getting herself in trouble. And now, she didn't speak to him at all.
In fact, she didn't speak to much of anyone these days. It had been nearly two years since she'd visited the Ghost Zone, where her few most constant friends lived. She wondered idly what they were up to. If they'd managed to make peace with Danny, eventually. Or if, once she'd vanished, they went right back to their old battles.
It wasn't like she could check anyway. She had other priorities, like controlling her shaking frame and finding something to eat. With a quiet groan, she tried to push herself back to her feet, clinging to the side of the dumpster. She was way too weak right now; when she'd tried to go ghost, earlier that day, she'd almost passed out from exhaustion. She had to keep up her strength.
Eventually, after several breaks to rest, she managed to find an apple and half a loaf of bread in the trash can, which were more or less edible. Beggars can't be choosers, she thought, as she tore into her little meal. It wasn't much, but it would keep her from starving to death today.