I thought I was starting to get the hang of this whole 'ghost powers' thing. But then Murphy's Law decided to fuck with me.

I had just finished getting dressed after a late shower, when I let out an unbidden gasp, caused by a sudden chill that wracked my entire body. I exhaled a wisp of condensed breath before it promptly dispersed. Just like what happened back in the lab, before the 'Box Ghost' came out the portal… was it some type of ghost sense? That would be very useful. More importantly, however, was the yell of "BEWARE!", before I suddenly found myself on my front lawn, face-down-ass-up. Very embarrassing, along with the fact that I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt.

I rounded on my opponent, who just so happened to be the Box Ghost from earlier.

"How did you get out of the Ghost Zone so quick?" I asked the blue annoyance.

"EVEN THE UNDERWORLD IS UNABLE TO CONTAIN THE AWESOMENESS THAT IS I, THE BOX GHOST! BEWARE!"

"...No, but seriously, how?"

"A natural portal, duh." Natural portal? Those happen?

"Those happen?"

"Occasionally. The only issue is that they can spit you out anywhere. Not to mention they close pretty quickly."

Wow. I just had a civil semi-conversation with a ghost. Maybe my parents were wrong with their theory that ghosts were just ectoplasmic masses of primal urge. That didn't surprise me too much. They do, after all, believe that ghosts were behind the sinking of the Titanic...

"HUMAN CHILD! ARE YOU READY TO FACE YOUR DOOM?" Then again, maybe my parents were right.

I panicked upon the realization that I didn't have the Fenton Thermos. How was I supposed to handle this guy? Intangibility and invisibility were only useful for running/dodging. Then again, running and dodging was all I needed to do until I got to the Thermos. Following that line of thinking, I transformed into my ghost form and turned on my heels, ready to run like an Olympian.

"WHAT BLASPHEMY IS THIS!?" The Box Ghost cried out. Ignoring his confusion, I bolted towards the house. After phasing past the wall, I immediately dropped through the floor into the lab. Quickly scanning the metal interior, I found my saving grace.

Right there, on a lab table, sat the Fenton Thermos in all it's grey-and-green glory. I jumped at it, snatching the cylinder up. I quickly sprinted towards and up the stairs, phasing through the lab door, then the walls until I was back out on the front lawn.

The Box Ghost was still floating where he was when I left him, jaw dropped. It would have been pretty funny if this guy couldn't crush my skull with a simple cardboard box. Rather than continue our previous conversation, I just sucked the Box Ghost into the Thermos. He seemed too shocked to do much other than gape at me. After the ghost was successfully contained in the thermos, I capped it, then ran back into the lab. I released the Box Ghost back into the 'Underworld', as he called it (it actually sounded a lot cooler than 'Ghost Zone') and went back to my room.

I was too hopped up on adrenaline to be able to go to sleep at this point, so I began my homework. An analysis of "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" for English, a map activity for Global, some Algebra problems, and a worksheet for Biology. Quite a workload. It seemed that my teachers loved to pile on the homework for weekends.

Sunday morning saw me drooling all over my English book report. Great. Now I have to rewrite it. But first, breakfast. I glanced at my alarm clock, which read 1:39. Okay then, lunch it is.

Speaking of which, I only ate once yesterday. I never even got to finish my sandwich! So why wasn't I absolutely starving? I chalked it up to another ghost thing, and moved on. I had enough control over my intangibility and invisibility so that they wouldn't randomly pop out, meaning I wouldn't have to put on another charade like yesterday, which coincidentally caused me not being able to finish my sandwich. I'm still slightly annoyed about that. Knowing Dad, he probably ate it after they didn't find a ghost. My poor, poor sandwich.

I was in the kitchen when my sister walked in. Jasmine Fenton, the uptight, know-it-all genius child who always made me feel like a disappointment, no matter what I did. Not that I told her any of this. She wouldn't care, anyways. With her fire red hair and arrogant ever-present smirk, she sauntered on over to me.

"So~," She drawled, "I saw your report card, Danny. Only a ninety in English? When I was in your grade, I got at least a hundred in everything. I'm disappointed, little brother- What would Mom and Dad say?" She taunted. I stayed silent, causing her to step a little closer to me.

"Aw, is widdle Danny too scared to say anything? What, afraid Mom and Dad are gonna ground you for being so stupid?"

She took my lack of response as a victory for her, before going to rummage around in the pantry. She popped back out with a bag of potato chips- my bag of potato chips, which I had been saving- before leaving the kitchen. I didn't say a word; Jazz could probably take anything I said and twist it around to humiliate me.

See, she was the smartest kid in Casper High School, and going for a psychology major in college, meaning she was very good at wordplay, like finding hidden meanings and whatnot. There were no doubts from anyone, student or teacher, that she would be the Valedictorian of her year.

She's also the most two-faced person I know. She acts like an absolute sweetheart to everyone at school, but ten seconds after we're home, she just becomes an absolute bitch.

Unfortunately, her insults hit a little too close to home. I had long ago accepted I would never step out of her shadow, and would likely be compared to my older sister all throughout high school. God forbid I ever had any of the same teachers she did- they would always expect so much more from me than I was capable of giving.

My parents were in the same boat. They showered Jazz with praise when she returned home with a straight-A+ report card, then gave me a light pat on the back when I showed only A's. If I was lucky, I would get a little "Good job, Danny-o!" from my Dad, who then go back to obsessing over Jazz or eating fudge.

I had heard of cases of child-favoritism from some of my classmates- who weren't actually talking to me, but instead complaining to their friends in my general vicinity (it wasn't my fault they're so damn loud!)- but I never used to expect it from my parents. I had figured they would be too caught up in their research to pay much attention to either kid; unfortunately I was wrong.

Oh well. That just another thing I would simply have to deal with. Whoever said life was great is an idiot.