Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, do you seriously think I'd let trailer lines like "All specials are special, but some specials are more special than others" even exist?
Twas a fool's hope, and nothing more.
Motionless in his room, he sat and stared. He knew it was impossible for him to actually get the NASA scholarship- but it didn't stop him from trying and hoping.
Fool's hope.
He had barely scraped past the minimum requirements to apply for the program, and waiting in queue for the diagnostic and subsequent interview, he was sharply aware of the fact. All around him, people were talking, laughing.
He was the only one studying, desperately trying to cram in information that had, nearly two years ago, taken an abrupt back seat as compared to the specifics of Skulker's new weapon or avoiding that new invention of his parents' that would horribly maim him at best, or make him a full ghost at worst.
The diagnostic... was okay. His enthusiasm for the subject was more than sufficient to enable him to cram the information in- heck, he landed a spaceship once!
The interview, however, was decidedly less than stellar. No, correction: it was mere credibility that made the panel of judges not dismiss him instantly upon looking at his resume.
Sure, they tried to phrase it diplomatically. One even kindly told him to continue pursuing his interests, that he was exceptionally gifted in astronomy, but that they just weren't sure how well he'd "stand up to the rigors of the program, considering your performance in school"- his arse. He'd stood up to more than they'd ever know- the stress he faced on bad days would leave them gibbering nonsense.
But of course, they'd never know.
He'd remained in silence despondently throughout the entire ride home, not even joining the routine exclamations when Jack performed yet another death-defying stunt with the Fenton GAV. Next to him, Maddie had been telling him about how it was fine, he'd be able to try again, there were other routes in life-
He had tuned them out. He didn't need empty platitudes, especially when there was a layer of disappointment hiding beneath them.
As he glared sullenly at the space posters on his wall, the phone rang. Downstairs, he heard Jazz's voice when she picked up. She called his name. He didn't answer.
"Sorry, Sam, Tucker, but I think Danny's still feeling upset from the interview earlier..."
Danny slumped face-first into his pillow and groaned. Somehow, even knowing that his friends were asking for him, he didn't feel like talking to them.
A laugh came from outside his open window just as his breath fogged up into the white fabric. Lifting his head just enough so that his eyes were unobscured, he glared at Ember McLain's face. "I'm not in the mood, Ember. So just get yourself through the Ghost Portal, and stay away."
"What's the matter, dipstick?" She taunted, perching on the windowsill and strumming softly. "Your girlfriend dump ya?"
"For the last time, Ember, get lost." His fingers reached for the Thermos on his table.
"Alright! Geez, what's got your hair in a twist today?"
"Nothing, just the utter destruction of my dreams and aspirations since all my free time and most of school is spent hunting ghosts like you down."
Her fingers pulled a discordant chord from the strings. "Bigshots turned you down for a job?"
"NASA scholarship, yes." His hand retreated from the Thermos.
She smiled, a wistful smile. "Makes you feel a right idiot, huh. Especially when you know you've got what it takes."
"You got turned down as well?"
"When I was alive, nobody wanted to hire me." She admitted. "I had to play in pubs and bars with my band, and the pay wasn't exactly brilliant."
Danny smiled, his first since the interview. "With only one song, I'm not all that surprised."
"Aw, shut it, dipstick." She scowled, but the melody coming from her guitar was gentle.
Music filled the silence. Danny leaned back onto the headboard, eyes closed, and sighed. It wasn't any easier to know that he wasn't good enough for NASA, but somehow, knowing that he wasn't the only one, it didn't hurt as much.
"Hey, dipstick." He opened his eyes. "Want a fight?"
He raised his eyebrow. She fidgeted self-consciously. "What? I'd ask if you wanted a beer, but you're kind of underage."
His heart warmed at her awkward attempt to cheer him up. Not to understand, not to help, but to just be and let him vent.
"Or we could just find the Box Ghost and let loose."
That drew a chuckle from him, and he was cut off by the trademark yell.
"Beware!"
The rings appeared, speeding past his body, and Ember readied her guitar.
"Just in time."
The Box Ghost looked utterly apprehensive at the ominous pronouncement, and within half a minute, flashes of green, power chords, and screams tore through the night. The Thermos was left on the table, and Jazz, peeking in, made a note to remind Danny yet again to bring it along on ghost hunts, before closing the door and making her way downstairs to ensure their parents were occupied.
Life went on.