BEAUTIFUL GIRLS ARE THE LONELIEST

Disclaimer: Go ahead and double check the credits if you absolutely must. My name's not there because I don't own any part of Danny Phantom.

As the gorgeous young lady sits outside and gazes at the stars, she knows that she should have gone to bed hours ago, but despite her need for beauty sleep she's just too restless. Her dark hair hangs loosely about her shoulders, her flawless face unusually void of make-up, and her pajamas, although hardly form-fitting, are somehow completely flattering on her lithe frame. Staring up at the sky, she silently hopes that a certain Phantom will fly by and speak to her, and as if the stars had heard her wish, a flash of black and white blurs through the air above her.

"Hey!" she calls, jumping to her feet and waving a hand, and a pair of glowing green eyes turn to look at her, the ghost pausing in mid-flight. "Wait a second! Can I talk to you, ghost-boy?"

"Paulina?" the ghost stutters as he flies down towards her, and she smiles brilliantly at him, simply happy that he knows her name. "Um . . . you're not going to go crazy and try to lock me in a box or something, are you?"

"Eww, no!" she exclaims. "Why would I do that? That's freaky! I just want to talk! Are you busy right now, ghost boy?"

"It's Phantom," he sighs, and she can tell he thinks that she's stupid since he's told her this a dozen times before, but she's not. Paulina simply likes to hear him say his name. "And . . . ugh, I guess I have a minute, but if this is where you tell me that you want me to be your boyfriend—"

"—it's not that, ghost –Phantom," she says, correcting herself out of fear that this time he'll become too irritated and simply leave.

"Then what is it?" he grumbles, and then looking at her more closely, he frowns. "Come to think of it, why aren't you in bed right now? It's really late, isn't it?"

"I can't sleep," she explains, sitting down and gesturing to the spot beside her, and although she expects the ghost boy to refuse he lands gently beside her and sits down. "I was wondering, ghost boy . . . do you ever get lonely?"

"Seriously? That's what you wanted to talk to me about?" he chuckles. "Do you even know what that word means, Paulina?"

"Of course I know what it means!" she snaps. "It's just . . . Everyone thinks that being beautiful and popular means that you have lots of friends and that you're always happy and that everything comes easy to you, but it's not. It's really hard. I spend hours doing my make-up and getting ready everyday just to look perfect—"

"—you should stop that, you know," he teases her. "You actually look a lot prettier without it."

"You really think so?" she blushes, and he rubs the back of his neck nervously, seeming embarrassed that he said anything at all.

"Yes, but that's not what you wanted to talk about, right?"

"No, it's not," she confirms, and then she pauses as she considers her problem. "Well, maybe it is."

"Hmm?"

Biting her lower lip, she looks back up at the sky as she tries to find the words to explain her problem to him. Talking isn't something she's ever been very good at, despite being fluent in two languages, and talking to someone about something so personal, about something she's never shared with anyone, is hard even if that person is dead or someone as understanding and kind as the ghost boy. "There are these three losers in school," she starts again, and she can feel the ghost boy tense up slightly, but she's not sure why and doesn't want to ask in case he might get mad at her. "And I mock them and tease them every day. I help my boyfriend Dash get away with stuffing that loser Danny Fenton into a locker, or I steal that techno-freak—"

"—I think the term is techno-geek, actually—" he interrupts, but she ignores him, pressing onward before she loses the thread she's following.

-Tucker Foley's PDAs and stuff, and I make sure all the other girls in school are nasty to Sam and stick gross things in her locker. I do everything I can to make their lives miserable," she explains, "and yet they always look so happy, and I just—I just . . .I hate it! I hate that they're so happy no matter what me or anyone else does, but they are! And everyday I'm just—I'm just—"

"Miserable?" he offers, but she shakes her head.

"Not really," she replies. "When I'm at school and I'm at cheerleading practice and junk, I'm usually pretty happy, but when I get home I just . . . I just feel so lonely, and somehow I know that those geeks don't ever really feel that way."

"You feel lonely?" he says slowly as he thinks about what she's said, and he looks as if he simply can't believe her. "But—but you're the most popular person in Casper High."

"And it doesn't mean a damn thing!" she says, feeling tears beginning to sting her eyes. "It's empty, all of it, and I know that now! I knew it after the way I had to treat Valerie when she became all poor and stuff! I only have those friends as long as I'm rich and beautiful! The day that I'm not anymore they'll all just desert me and it won't be like those losers. They're already friends even though they're poor and lame, and they'll always be friends. But me . . . I don't have friends like that. And every day I realize it more and more and more, and I mean, I should never end up poor and lame but then Valerie did and it made me nervous and I just . . . I just thought you would understand how I feel, ghost boy," she tells him, and now she is crying, the tears pouring freely from her eyes. Normally she'd be embarrassed because her make-up might run a little (even though those sales people and the bottles said that it would never run) and because she's always known that crying is a sign of weakness, but somehow she feels like she can cry in front of the ghost boy right now as they sit together beneath the night sky and that he won't think less of her for it.

"I—um—why do you think I'd know?"

"Because you look lonely, too, Phantom," she replies. "You're like me. You're handsome and strong and popular and people love you and stuff, but they only love you because you're giving them what they want. You're protecting the town and saving us—and don't get me wrong, ghost boy, I think you like doing it too sometimes because you know it's right and you're saving people's lives and stuff—but . . . it's like . . . I want you to be my boyfriend, but even if you wanted to be my boyfriend, you couldn't be, not really. We'd be like one of those celebrity couples that's just together because they look good and not because they really love each other, because . . . you're dead. You can't have a girlfriend, at least not a living, beautiful one like me. And even though you're super popular with humans and stuff, those other ghosts all hate you and someone like me or any other person can't ever understand what it's like to be dead like you and stuff . . . I just . . . we both stand out. We're both different. I'm beautiful. You're a hero. And I just thought that maybe both of us are lonely because in our own way, we're freaks."

Falling silent, Paulina wipes away her tears on her pajama sleeve, her eyes now locking on the ground instead of the sky. Somehow, she feels a little better now that she's talked to someone, even if that person isn't human, and it is then that he puts an arm around her. "I'm sorry, Paulina," he tells her, and looking up she sees his green eyes shining brilliantly. "I mean . . . to be honest . . . I've never really liked you much. You've always seemed kind of mean and petty and, well, um—"

"—shallow?" she supplies, knowing that's what he is thinking since she hears that insult more times in a day from Sam Manson alone than from the rest of the students at Casper High combined.

"Well, yeah," he admits. "And you're not. I mean, not completely, and I know that now because someone shallow never would've noticed the truth." She glances up at him curiously, wondering what he means, but he looks up at the stars as he speaks next, and his voice sounds so tired and so heavy that it makes Paulina want to cry for him, too.

"Because you're right about me. I'm lonely, too."

A/N: So yes, I'm aware that Paulina's a tad OoC in this, but . . . meh. I just wanted to give a shallow character a little depth, and as for the no Spanish in this, well . . . quite frankly, since I can't speak Spanish, I didn't feel comfortable putting any in here even though she tends to say a word here and there on the show.

This fic is also kind of weird for me because she's also just not a character from DP that I typically want to write, or even a type of character that I write at all, but the topic made me think of her since it's often implied that's she's drop-dead gorgeous on the show. I mean, I guess I could've done a fluffy fic with Sam or Valerie or something, but . . . yeah. I wasn't really in the mood to do that this week, and part of what I want to do here is practice my writing, which means doing things that I'm not particularly good at (like writing a fic with a character type I don't love and doing more writing in the present tense, the latter of which I'm starting to think I enjoy more than I thought).

And I wanted to make a note that I didn't intend for this fic to be DxP. There might have been a hint of it here or there, but all I was going for here was a kind of brief moment of understanding between two very different people, y'know? So take it how you will, but just know that those were my intentions.

And up next: A Dash fic! (Am I joking? Quite possibly! Tune in next week and find out, lol).

Oh, and, uh, review, please. ;)

'Til next time!