A/N: I had a moment of reflection and nostalgia last week, when I rediscovered my FanFiction account from over ten years ago, full of stories I wrote when I was eleven. For the purposes of revisiting the hobby of writing, for myself and not necessarily anyone else, i've decided to revisit some of my previous ideas as an adult. I'm not sure if disclaimers are still necessary, but for the sake of old times; I don't own Danny Phantom.
Usually, the first morning of spring break is one of liberation. A morning of freedom, full of promise for the good times ahead.
Unfortunately, my morning hadn't gone exactly to plan.
My plan for the day had constituted an excessive sleep in, a breakfast of leftover pizza and hopefully a ghost-free afternoon spent playing video games until my tired eyes drooped at my keyboard.
It became apparent that this wasn't going to happen at 6:55am, when my over-excited father bounded into my bedroom, my adoring mum in tow. He flicked the light on and exclaimed loudly;
"Danny! Wake up, your mother and I have some very, very exciting news!"
I groaned deeply and rolled over, taking the covers with me. It was much too early to humour Dad by listening apathetically about some new prototype.
"You're going to ghost camp!"
Alarm bells went off immediately in my head. My eyes flashed open in an instant, but I remained still. I hoped my panic hadn't flickered across my face.
"What? No I'm not. Let me go back to sleep," I had tried my hardest to sound disinterested, but I'm not sure it was too convincing.
A smile had snuck across Mum's face as she sat on the edge of my cramped bed. She softly placed her hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't help but flinch at her foreign touch.
"Honey, we thought so too. But when we found so many Fenton Thermoses in your room we couldn't help but wonder maybe you had finally taken an interest in our profession. And then last week I found two of our missing ecto-blasters in the boot of your car. We were so proud sweetie, we just had to sign you up, it's an extremely competitive program. You'll learn a lot!" Maddie practically squealed with delight.
For the two hours that followed, I protested. A lot.
What kind of parents send their almost-adult, 17-year-old son to a camp? Let alone a ghost camp? My parents, obviously. What. A. Joke.
But somehow, it hadn't been enough. Somehow nothing is ever enough to convince Jack out of a 'brilliant' idea when his heart is set on it. And of course, it wasn't like I could've raised my primary objection with my parents; as a half-ghost myself, a convention such as this isn't exactly my ideal holiday destination.
Despite my very best efforts at complaining like only a teenager can, my parents had still hauled me to Amity Park Central Station, where a large coach had been waiting. They'd packed my bags for me while I'd been out last night; ironically kicking Skulker's ass for the third time this week. They had wanted to keep it a surprise because they thought I'd be thrilled. Obviously they didn't know me as well as they thought; I hadn't spoken to them on the way in the van. For some reason they couldn't comprehend my objection. They rattled on, perpetuating their own excitement by reflecting on the times they spent at 'ghost camp' themselves.
It was going to be a dismal two weeks, most certainly not the break I had been anticipating.
For what felt like hours, I sat in a worn out coach seat, staring out of the window as the bus weaved haphazardly between cars on the freeway. I was fuming, not to mention a little apprehensive of the month ahead. Perhaps this had been conveyed to the other teens on the bus, because they'd kept their distance. I didn't have much interest in talking to anyone with any business going on a 'ghost camp'. I'm pretty sure some kind of detection device was continually going off at the back of the bus but I paid it no attention.
I hadn't even been awake for two hours and already my vacation was ruined. To make matters worse, neither Tucker nor Sam were replying in their Facebook chat. There was no salvation in sight for at least another two hours when they would finally rise from their enviable sleep.
I looked down at my iPhone, refreshing messenger as many times as possible to no avail. Exasperated, I resolved to google what kind of torture I'd be submitted to over the coming two weeks.
Pleasant Valley Specter Centre, a place where young, promising ghost hunters can come together to hone in their abilities to protect our great nation from the dead that haunt our very being.
Set among the pines in the Nicolet National Forest, campers will learn how to use state-of-the art equipment from decorated international ghost hunter professionals in a fun and safe environment. Not only will campers undergo a world class training program, but they will also make life-long friends certain to assist in their ghost hunting endeavours of the future.
Parents and guardians can be reassured of the security of the venue, which features a ghost shield and 24/7 supervision of your teenagers.
I'd read enough. The inspirational marketing bullshit was enough to make me want to jump out of the window. I closed my eyes in a far-fetched attempt to fall asleep and avoid this spiralling situation entirely.
It was only two weeks. Surely I could handle two weeks of amateur teen ghost hunters. One of the girls on the bus barely could see over the seat in front of her. I'd just lie low and avoid any kind of attention.
With that thought, I had somehow drifted off into a restless slumber, my head resting against the reverberating window of the coach.
At the next pick-up town, I was awoken by an undesirable electronic screech.
My eyes flickered open to see a guy, who must've just boarded the bus, standing on top of me, shoulders squared. He had dirty blonde hair that had been swept back into a rough bun, and was menacingly tall. I took note of the fact I shouldn't stand up to confront him, I'd just be looking him in the mouth. In his hand he held a metal device; the source of the abrasive beeping. His suspicious eyes scanned me up and down, evaluating me as I pushed up against the window even further. It took me a few seconds to process what his problem was.
Oh yeah. Ghost camp. Me, ghost. I'm a ghost. Shit.
"I'm sorry, can I help you?"
"My scanner thinks you're a ghost." Silence. He didn't offer anything more. Straight to the point, no niceties. I thought everyone on these dumb camps tried to make their best impression on the first day.
"I'm great, thanks for asking! How are you?" I quipped. No response. I couldn't help but notice the bus was silent. I was certain that fifteen sets of eyes were watching on with baited breath. "Your scanner must be broken, I'm not a ghost. Sorry to disappoint."
Our eyes met for a moment, and challenge was evident within an instant. This bloke wasn't going to back down. I really wasn't looking to make any enemies, let alone on the bus on the way to the camp.
"It's probably just picking up the remnants of some ecto-energy emitted from my parent's lab. The place is practically radioactive,"
"Yeah, probably," he muttered, his gaze not leaving my eyes. He flicked off the power switch on his contraption and the shrilling beeping sound cut off. He stalked off towards the back of the bus and dumped his duffle bag with a loud clang of metal.
I took a mental note. That guy was both crazy and had a large amount of what I presumed to be ghost hunting equipment in his hand luggage. Who knew what else he'd brought. I also took a mental note of the fact I'd be setting off detectors all over the place at this damned camp. I would have to prepare a slew of excuses in my mind.
But really, I knew none of these kids were going to be a threat to me. Over the past three years, my control over my powers had grown exponentially. It sounds cocky, I know, but after daily challenges against ghost after ghost, it was bound to happen. There was a time in the past where I couldn't manage to eat lunch without my hands turning intangible, but now is the strongest I'd ever been. I'd grown a foot, I'd bulked out after what seemed like forever. The number of ghosts in Amity Park had been reducing drastically over the last six months as I'd generally be able to rough them around and have them in the thermos in a minute at the most. My ectoblast was now second-to-none. Only a few of the regulars bothered to come around to fight me anymore, and even then, they probably do so out of boredom. It was surprising to me that Skulker came back, week after week with a new suit ready for me to annihilate. Three years and counting, still no pelt on his wall.
Regardless, Dash still managed to 'accidentally' trip me in the hall, and there was only one ghost I was really afraid of. Myself.
After what seemed to be forever, I looked down at my phone to see Tucker had finally woken up. His message was full of sympathy.
"HAHAHA sucked in!"
With that, the bus turned down a gravel road off the side of the highway, pine trees extending to the blue skies. Ahead loomed a modern-looking camp facility, surrounded by a familiar green glow. A ghost shield. I sighed, exasperated. This could be either terribleā¦
Or really, really fun.
