Seven-Year Jock Itch
byline: Anubis C. Soundwave
7. Those meddling kids....
Dash finishes braiding a white daisy into Sam's hair as Sam wakes up.
Sam blinks, noting a gentle smile on Dash's face...and an intense look in his eyes. She stares at Dash, who briefly whipped his head away before replacing the expression with his normal sneer.
"I'm relieved," says Sam after standing to her feet, absently fingering a daisy-twined lock of hair. "For a moment I thought you..." she continues, only to trail off, blushing slightly.
"What?" asks Dash, somewhat belligerent in tone due to his confusion.
Sam shakes herself. "N-nothing. It was nothing..." she snorts.
Dash tenses, concealing a hurt expression. "What do you mean by that!?" he balks. "'It was nothing...'?"
"Forget it!" Sam spits, trembling as she turns her back to Dash to check her watch. "Look, it's getting late," she adds. "I'll head home."
"Okay," says Dash. "I'll walk you home."
"No!" counters Sam. "I'll be fine."
"You're not walking home alone," says Dash, obstinate. "You just said yourself that it's getting late," he continues, "so it'd be stupid for you to walk alone. We have to use the buddy system-not that we're friends or anything, but we sure as hell aren't enemies anymore, right?"
"Dash," says Sam, "I told you-*"
Dash grips Sam's arm. "I don't give a damn what you told me," he spits. "I'm not letting you go off into the night by yourself!"
"Let go of me!" cries Sam, jerking her arm away from Dash.
Randy rushes between Sam and Dash. "Take it easy, kids," he says.
Sam and Dash both glare at the jock ghost.
"What do you two want from me?" says Randy balefully. "I'm the ghost of an old man who assumed the form of his teenage self, remember?"
"Listen, Randy," says Sam, "This is the twenty-first century-*"
Randy cuts Sam off. "I know, I know: you're going to 'take back the night'. Fuck that bullshit!" he spits. "Dash is right: there's no way in hell any sane person would let you walk home on your own, young lady!"
Sam rolls her eyes, then takes Randy's hand and leads him away from Dash. "I assure you," she hisses, "that my reasons for not wanting Dash to walk me home have nothing to do with feminism."
"Oh, I know your reasons," says Randy dismissively, "they're just irrelevant compared to your safety."
"Look at this," says Sam, pulling out a Fenton Thermos. "One more word out of you-one attempt to follow me home," she adds, "and in you go."
"Go ahead," grins Randy.
Dash notes Sam with the Fenton Thermos. "Hey!" he grins as he rushes over. "How long have you had one of those?"
"Being Danny's friend," says Sam, "I always have one handy." She smirks at Randy, who scowls.
"Then why didn't you use it on him when he was making a fool out of me!?" balks Dash.
"Because I didn't think Randy was real," says Sam, "and you're always making a fool out of yourself."
Randy chuckles at Sam's quip in spite of his annoyance. "You have to give her that one, old man," he grins.
"Shut the fuck up, Petersen," snorts Dash.
"Anyway," continues Randy, "I'll take her home, Dash old bean; she has her reasons for not wanting you to come over to her house," he adds, "and they're thankfully not stemming from third-wave feminism-induced stupidity."
"I warned you!" spits Sam, brandishing the Thermos.
Randy grins crudely at Sam. "Do your worst," he says, snapping his fingers.
Sam opens and activates the Thermos...but it fails. "What...the hell...?" she sputters.
Dash shakes his head. "Until he died two years ago, Manson," he says, "Randy was the maintenance guy at Casper High. So one of his ghostly 'be a dick' powers is the ability to fix machines...or break them," he adds wryly.
"A crude summation," says Randy, "but correct."
"I just thought I'd welcome Sammy to my living hell," sneers Dash. "That, Manson," he continues, "was just a taste of the bullshit I've had to put up with from him for three months."
"It's true," says Randy, nodding. "So," he continues with a courtly bow, "please let me escort you home, miss."
"No," counters Sam hotly, turning on her Fenton Phones. "I'll just call my friends, and they'll walk me home. Is that a good compromise!?" she adds with a dark look at Dash.
"Deal!" fumes Dash. "Just stick with us until they get here."
Sam calls Tucker on the Phones.
Randy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kids," he hisses. "I know I was this stupid at their age, but still..."
Danny and Tucker arrive, noting a scowling daisy-adorned Sam, Dash, and Randy outside Casper High.
Tucker approaches Randy. "I keep seeing you around, man," he says. "I've never met a jock interested in technology."
"It just goes to show that you can't afford to make assumptions in life," says Randy.
Tucker nods. "What's your name?" he asks.
"Randy Petersen," says Randy, smiling blandly at Dash.
Dash rolls his eyes.
"Can we go, guys?" asks Sam, packing away her Thermos. "You know how my parents are."
Danny and Tucker nod; they start to walk away with Sam.
"Hey, Fenton!" says Dash.
Danny sighs as he turns to face Dash.
"You'd better take care of Manson," says Dash. "That's all I have to say to you and Foley."
Danny notes the concern in Dash's voice and eyes. "Always, Dash," he says, taking Sam's hand. He, Sam, and Tucker walk away.
Randy shakes his head. "Dashiell, be serious," he says. "When will you just nut up and tell the girl how you feel so you can go steady?"
"If it were that easy," sneers Dash, "then you wouldn't have died old and alone." Scowling, Dash walks off the grounds of Casper High.
Randy puts his hands in his pockets. "I don't have an answer to that one, either," he says.
Danny studies Sam a moment as they stand outside the Manson mansion.
"What are you looking at?" asks Sam, cross.
"I don't know what's going on between you and Dash," says Danny, "but you two need to hash it out."
Sam stares at Danny.
"Whatever it is has to do with that guy Randy," Danny continues. "He's an odd stick."
"You're right about Dash and me hanging out together more because of Randy," says Sam, rolling her eyes, "but it's not what you think."
"You don't know what I think," says Danny, "and I don't know what to think."
Sam steps away from Danny, taken aback.
"The only thing I know is that Dash's goofy idea about my dad being an alpha male responding to a new female throwing off the Fenton family dynamic?" continues Danny, smirking. "He was right. That is a scary thought: and that's coming from someone who's fought Pariah Dark and his own dark side."
"What's your point?" asks Sam.
"That maybe we need to let go of what we think we know," says Danny, smiling. "I'll see you later, Sam." Danny walks off.
Sam touches her chin in thought, then shrugs and enters her mansion.
The next day, Tucker heads home from the Amity Park town library, bringing home books for a research paper. "I can't believe that they won't just let me look this information up on Wikipedia," he says as he trudges past an old woman's house.
The old woman looks up from her gardening. "You can use Wikipedia as a starting point," she says, smiling brightly at Tucker, "but your teachers won't accept it as a primary source."
Tucker chuckles. "Hello, Ms. Schumacher," he says wryly.
"Hello, Tucker," says Ms. Schumacher. "How was school?"
"Fine," says Tucker. He notes a worn mailbox with the name PETERSEN on it. "Is this Randy Petersen's house?" asks Tucker.
Ms. Schumacher trembles. "It...was..." she says slowly. "My neighbor Mr. Petersen died two years ago."
"Oh," says Tucker. "I must have met his grandson, then. He plays varsity at Casper High."
"That's not possible," says Ms. Schumacher sharply.
Tucker blinks at Ms. Schumacher. "Why not?" he asks.
"Because Ran-Mr. Petersen," says Ms. Schumacher, tears forming in her eyes, "never had any children: biological or adopted. I...think I'll go inside." Ms. Schumacher takes off her gardening gloves, wipes away a few stray tears, then enters her house.
Tucker sits on the steps of Petersen's house, fiddling with his PDA. "My PDA already has wi-fi," he drawls as he accesses Google, typing in "Casper High" and "Randy Petersen" as search terms.
Randy walks up to Tucker, scowling. "What are you doing at my house?" he demands.
Tucker jumps up, putting his PDA back in his pocket. "Hey, Randy," he grins nervously. "Uh...sorry to hear about your great-uncle, man."
Randy stares at Tucker, confused.
"Ms. Schumacher told me that your namesake who lived here had died," says Tucker.
"And why would you speak to Ms. Schumacher?" asks Randy darkly.
"Dude," says Tucker. "She was my grade school teacher before she retired, and she volunteers at the town library-but you should know this. You're the only guy named Randy Petersen in our school," Tucker continues, scowling as he presents his PDA, "yet there's no record of you at Casper High."
"So your PDA is an internet-enabled smartphone," seethes Randy.
"There was a varsity quarterback named Randy Petersen," says Tucker, scrolling through a Casper High web archive, "but he'd have to be almost seventy years old, because he played for the Ravens during the 1950s."
"He died," says Randy in a flat tone. "He was sixty-eight."
"The thing is," muses Tucker, "that his high school picture looks... Just...like..." Tucker looks Randy over, then pouts. "Dude, you're a ghost, aren't you?"
"Yes," says Randy, annoyed, "and if I were the bullying type of jock, I'd have throttled you by now."
Tucker reaches for his Fenton Thermos.
"Don't bother reaching for it, son," says Randy. "It won't work."
"If you didn't want me to learn the truth," asks Tucker, putting away his Thermos, "then why didn't you disable my PDA?"
"I couldn't for two reasons," says Randy. "One, the damned thing's a handheld computer, and two-as a bully I've met recently has advised me, bullies have rules. If I were able to fiddle with the modern-day iteration of DARPANET," Randy fumes, "I would have done so long before now."
"Then what's your history with Ms. Schumacher?" asks Tucker.
"She was a former classmate of mine at school," frowns Randy. "I don't appreciate you distressing her, by the way."
Tucker taps on the Fenton Phones.
Randy snaps his fingers. "Those gaudy earring phones I can disable," he grins. "If you or Eve call or tell the Phantom about me," Randy continues, "I'll have no choice but to break my rules and hurt you. Don't make me do that." Randy walks into his house.
Tucker tries to follow Randy inside. "Great. Of course the door to the haunted house is locked," he spits. "And who the hell is 'Eve'?" Tucker walks away from Petersen's house.
Randy sits on the roof of his house, blowing his whistle. "I've got to get that fucking thing out of Foley's possession," he mutters.
Technus appears. "You have summoned the master-*" he begins.
"Shut up!" spits Randy. "No wonder that gunsel Phantom keeps handing you your ass. I want that PDA the nice but utterly-clueless colored kid has, now."
"These days, they're called African-Americans, or black if you're in a hurry," says Technus.
"I don't give a fuck!" snarls Randy.
"Take it easy," says Technus calmly. "Even if you abscond his PDA," he continues, "Foley will still be able to access the internet through numerous other computers, and the last thing you want to do is draw attention to your activities, correct?" he asks.
"Obviously," says Randy. "Shutting off all online access in Amity Park is not even close to an option."
"Then you will have to resort to a physical altercation with Foley," says Technus coldly.
"Right. I'm supposed to beat the shit out of the Phantom's best friend-which will not only bring the Phantom onto me," says Randy, "but also the wrath of Sidney Poindexter-which I do not want."
"Then what do you want, Randy Petersen?" asks Technus.
Randy sighs, closing his eyes. "Huddle up," he says to Technus. "Here's my game plan."
"None of our computer monitors are working," states Mr. Lancer, irritated, over the PA system. "Therefore, all of the computer labs are closed until further notice."
"Great," snorts Danny. "Now I'll never be able to work on my research paper."
"Don't ask me," says Tucker. "My PDA's shot thanks to Technus."
Sam scowls at Randy, who drinks from a milk carton as he sits at a lunch table.
"He didn't do it," Tucker hisses to Sam after making sure Danny was out of earshot. "I take it you already know about him."
"Yep. Dash's jock ghost is the real McCoy," whispers Sam. "Danny can't sense him either, but Dani can."
Tucker nudges Sam; the pair walk out of the cafeteria.
"What is it?" asks Sam.
"What connection do you think Randy would have with Ms. Schumacher?" asks Tucker.
"Our old second-grade teacher?" wonders Sam. "Who knows."
"I get the feeling that if we try to go back and ask her," says Tucker, "Randy might nail me with a beatdown Dash would call excessive."
"Randy was in prison for twenty years for beating up a geek," notes Sam. "However, as a rule, he's not the bullying type."
"True," says Tucker, "but I'm sure he has his limit-and I'm sure it's connected to Ms. Schumacher. Let's leave her alone for now."
Dash overhears Tucker and Sam's conversation. He walks over to Kwan. "Hey, Kwan," he asks, "what are you going to do about your paper?"
"Dude, I don't know," groans Kwan.
"Maybe they have working computer labs at the town library," says Dash. "We'll go after practice."
"Okay," says Kwan. He walks down the hall, heading for the locker room.
"First down, motherfucker," smirks Dash under his breath. "First down. You won't win this one, Mr. Perfect," he adds, looking up at a sepia-toned photo of Randy holding a Heisman trophy.
Miles Baxter shakes his head as Dash, Kwan, Paulina, and Star pile into his SUV.
"Okay, Grandpa," grins Dash. "Now pick up Fenton and his geek sidekicks."
"If you insist," snorts Miles. What the hell is this boy up to? he wonders to himself.
The SUV pulls up next to Danny, Tucker, and Sam.
"Dash said that you three need a ride to the town library," says Miles.
"Do we have to ride with them?" whines Star.
"Yeah, we have to ride with them," says Dash.
"It's the bell curve," adds Kwan helpfully. "They'll shift it too far to the right if we leave them on their own."
"Exactly," says Dash. "Soldiering is very important when it comes to our varsity grades."
"Ah, Dash Baxter," sneers Sam, "the great mediocrity enforcer."
"That's right, Manson," says Dash. "Now get in this gas guzzler and underacheive with the rest of us."
"We do need to get to the town library," whispers Tucker.
Sam rolls her eyes. "At least the ride's free," she says. Sam, Danny, and Tucker board the SUV.
Randy runs up to the SUV. "Hey," he says to Miles, "can I hitch a ride?"
"The SUV's filled up with too many hormonal adolescents as it is," says Miles, giving Dash a surreptitious wink.
Dash chuckles softly.
"Sorry, Randall," says Miles as he drives off.
"It's Randolph," says Randy automatically. "Wait..." Randy's eyes widen.
Randy kicks at the ground. "Miles, you cock-sucking son of a bitch!" he roars.
"Mr. Baxter," asks Kwan, faintly hearing Randy's rant, "how does that guy know your first name?"
"This generation is so disrespectful to its elders," says Miles, snickering.
"Second down, Petersen," says Dash under his breath.
The SUV arrives at the town library, where Ms. Schumacher stands outside the library, confused.
Miles exits the vehicle with the seven teenagers. "Where the fuck did all of these boxes come from!?" he demands.
"Why would the Box Ghost attack here?" hisses Danny.
Tucker and Sam look to each other.
"Petersen," spits Dash, slamming his fist into his palm.
"Only if he managed to secure the cooperation of the Box Ghost," whispers Tucker.
"I don't put anything past that bastard," says Sam quietly.
"Mr. Baxter," says Ms. Schumacher sternly to Miles, "please refrain from using such language in front of the children. We have to set a positive example."
"This warrants a few expletives, Ms. Schumacher," says Miles wryly.
"At least Dash came by his behavior honestly," says Ms. Schumacher, resigned.
Valerie walks up the steps to the town library and starts grabbing boxes. "I have a paper to write," she spits, flinging away the boxes, "and I'm not letting some stupid ghost get in my way!"
"Valerie has developed such a foul temper," says Ms. Schumacher.
"No, ma'am," grins Dash, "she was always this way."
"Shut up, Dash, and make those show muscles of yours serve a purpose," says Valerie, hiding a smirk.
"Show!?" balks Dash, fuming.
"I guess we have to perform manual labor just to study," sighs Paulina.
"I'd better not break a nail," adds Star.
Danny sighs. "Cover me," he hisses to Tucker and Sam.
Tucker and Sam nod as they stand in front of Danny. Danny transforms and makes himself invisible.
Valerie detects the now-Phantom's presence. "Shit! It's that one," she hisses. "I need to make a pit stop," she says aloud, running off.
"Way to make us do all the work, Gray," snorts Dash.
"I'm trusting you, ghost," spits Valerie.
"It's about time, Valerie," says the Phantom as he phases in with her.
Valerie scowls at the Phantom. "Let's just find the Box Ghost and make him clear out this crap," she seethes. "I have a damned paper to write!"
The Box Ghost appears. "Beware...fuck this," he scoffs. "What do you want me to do so you and the psychotic ghost hunter don't maim me?"
"I want you to clear out all of this shit!" screams Valerie.
"And I want you to tell me who put you up to this!" adds the Phantom.
"I'll move the boxes," says the Box Ghost, "but I ain't telling you anything. I refuse to divulge any information you need to know." The Box Ghost starts to remove the boxes from the library.
"Then it's Thermos time," says the Phantom, pulling out his Fenton Thermos...which fails to work.
"Doesn't that thing usually work?" wonders Valerie.
"This has been happening a lot lately," mutters the Phantom under his breath. "Someone's clearly calling the shots," he adds aloud to Valerie.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot," sneers the Box Ghost. "Your equipment won't work, Phantom."
"Mine will!" says Valerie as she tries to fire an ecto blast from her wrist...except it also fails. "What happened!?" she spits, glaring at the Phantom. "Is this some kind of trap, ghost?"
"Why would I fall for my own trap," snorts the Phantom, "and why would I conspire to set a trap with him?" he continues, pointing at the Box Ghost, who attacks the pair with boxes.
Outside, Randy grins. "Fumble, Baxter; fumble," he says quietly as he observes the chaos from a park bench across the street.
"Isn't that the Phantom?" asks Paulina, noting the Box Ghost hurling boxes at the Phantom and Valerie.
"I take it this is another ghost haunting in this city," pouts Ms. Schumacher.
Miles nods. "This is getting annoying, though," he says. "Why would ghosts want to stop kids from studying?"
"Miles can be such a shithead sometimes," says Randy. "I'll have to get him and Paula out of harm's way before the Phantom cuts loose." Randy enters the SUV and drives it away from the library.
Miles notes the SUV. "That punk is stealing my wheels!" he spits.
"That boy looked like Randy..." muses Ms. Schumacher.
Tucker notes a warning signal on his Phantom Indicator. Randy's trying to protect Ms. Schumacher...and Mr. Baxter. "We should try to get out of here," he says to the group. "That kid just wanted to get us out of harm's way."
"Then he should have told us all to get in the car!" spits Star.
Randy pulls the SUV back, then opens the door. "Ladies first," he smiles, bowing to Ms. Schumacher.
"You're such a polite young man," says Ms. Schumacher as she boards the SUV. The teens follow Ms. Schumacher inside.
Miles starts to open the driver's side door, but Randy slowly drives off. "Oh, I'm sorry, Edward," he quips. "There just isn't enough room."
"Nice try, Petersen," hisses Dash, "but you know you can't steal my grandfather's SUV. Still second down."
Scowling, Randy stops the vehicle.
"Scoot over, young man," adds Miles, giving Randy a crude grin.
"Those two are definitely related," whispers Sam to Tucker.
"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Baxter," says Randy curtly, "I have something I need to take care of. Please drive Ms. Schumacher home safely." Randy exits the SUV, heading to the library.
The Phantom grips Valerie's wrist as she prepares to psionically punch the Box Ghost. "Okay," he says. "I don't want you to be obliterated by her, because you're a pretty weaksauce ghost, but if you don't tell me who put you up to this," continues the Phantom, "then I'll have no choice."
"You shall do no such thing!" counters Technus.
"You did not put the Box Ghost up to this crap," snorts the Phantom.
"Is that what you believe?" asks Technus, smirking. "Know that I have the power to short-circuit and control your partner's suit."
"We are not partners," spits Valerie.
"It does not matter," says Technus. "Now you will know the wrath of-ah!" Technus abruptly collapses...
...as Dani Phantom arrives on the scene.
"There are two of you!?" balks Valerie.
"You're welcome, Valerie Gray," says Dani Phantom.
"How do you two know my name!?" demands Valerie. "I want answers!"
The Box Ghost floats upright. "Beware!" he says. "I am...a sad, pitiful excuse for a ghost," he sobs, trembling as Dani Phantom bares her fangs.
"Hie thee back to the Ghost Zone!" orders Dani Phantom.
"Yes, miss," the Box Ghost whimpers. He obeys and leaves the library.
"Wait!" says the Phantom. "Who's your ringleader!?"
"Leave the Box Ghost alone," says Dani Phantom. "We'll see the real brains behind all of this soon enough."
"You're damned right you will," glowers Randy as he enters the library. "Get out of this library, or else."
"Or else what: you're going to throw footballs at me?" asks the Phantom.
Randy trembles a moment, then suddenly throttles the Phantom, gripping the halfa by the neck with inhuman strength. "Listen to me, you insipid, entitled little gunsel," he seethes. "I will not have you stand in my way. I have someone I must protect-someone I gave my life to protect-and I will not allow you or those kids outside to do anything to destroy her."
"You...you're real. You're fucking real," says the Phantom. "You're the ghost that was haunting Dash."
"Precisely," says Randy. "I was hoping to string you along for a bit more," he continues, "but Dashiell Miles Baxter's brilliant tactical move of endangering his own grandfather to break past me has regrettably forced my hand. Now, leave," Randy orders as he gently sets the Phantom down.
"Why should we?" spits Valerie.
Randy snaps his fingers, causing Valerie's suit to break off in pieces. "That's why. Get out," he demands.
"Randy, we're trying to help you!" says Dani.
"I understand that, Danielle Phantom," says Randy quietly, "but I want Ms. Schumacher left out of your investigation. She can't help you. Now. Get. Out."
"For now," says the Phantom, "let's do as he says. We need to talk," he adds, glaring at Dani Phantom.
Dani Phantom nods.
"And we still need your help, Miss Gray," continues the Phantom soberly.
"Why should I help you?" asks Valerie.
"The sooner you help us solve this mystery," says the Phantom, "the sooner Amity Park's computer systems will be back up and running, and you can finish that paper."
"...fine," scowls Valerie.
"Let's leave for now," says the Phantom. He and Dani Phantom grab Valerie and fly off.
Randy sinks to his knees. "I know I'm not making it easy for them-or for me," he says. "But I can't let her suffer. I won't let her suffer," Randy continues, "even if that means I can never be free."
Randy rises to his feet and blows the whistle.
Technus stirs. "You will have to use different tactics if you plan to defeat Danny Phantom," he says.
"I have no interest in defeating him," he says. "Get the computers and monitors running again," he continues, "but block all information related to myself, Paula Schumacher, and Julian Carlisle from the time period of 1957 to 1977."
"As you wish," says Technus.
Randy sighs. "We have to punt, Baxter," he says quietly.
Atop the roof of Casper High, Danny Phantom stands next to the Phantom Signal. "Now, Dash," he says. "If you were being relentlessly tormented by Randy Petersen for months, then why didn't you light the Signal?"
Sam starts to slap her forehead.
"Don't take cues from Homer Simpson yet, Manson," says Dash. He turns on the switch to power the massive floodlight...only for it to fail.
The Phantom stares at the inert Signal. "...this guy is an asshole!" he spits.
"Most definitely," say Tucker, Dani, and Sam.
"Why was I the last to know any of this?" demands the Phantom, asking Dash, but looking at Dani, Sam, and Tucker. "I should have been the first one you called for help."
"With all due respect," says Dash, "I didn't think the ghost of a high school jock was worthy of your time. All I had initially wanted was to get a hold of the Fenton Gauntlets so I could pummel the guy."
"So you thought to seek help from Danny Fenton-the one person who would not trust you under any circumstances," says the Phantom wryly.
"You can see how desperate I was," says Dash, "and now you see for yourself why!" he adds, pointing to the Signal.
"No one believed Dash," says Sam, "because Petersen has this way of thinking three steps ahead of him-and anyone, to be fair."
"He has serious pull in the Ghost Zone," says the Phantom, "to be able to summon ghosts with a sports whistle." That had to be why that ghost was running from me that day, Danny muses, when Dash was ready to maul me. This Petersen guy set me up for the mother of all Dash beatings. I'm just amazed Dash didn't take the bait.
But why did Dash want to maul me? Danny wonders. It wasn't his usual bullying; he really wanted me dead.
"Petersen was popular in his day," says Dash, "and a lot of people admired him. Maybe he carried that same charisma with him when he died and went to the Ghost Zone."
"That makes sense with what we know so far," says Dani.
"What is Petersen's end goal?" wonders the Phantom.
"To escape the Ghost Zone and go to a real afterlife," says Dash.
"That would be presuming that the Ghost Zone isn't the real afterlife," says the Phantom curtly.
"Think about it from Petersen's point of view," says Sam. "This is a guy from the 1950s: God, country, hot dogs, and apple pie. "He's expecting to enter either the Pearly Gates or a burning hell-complete with horned red imps holding pitchforks."
"Randy's smarter than that," says Dani. "I'm sure he allowed room for reincarnation or simply ceasing to exist."
The Phantom sighs. "What does any of this have to do with you?" he asks Dash.
"Before," says Dash, "he was needling us to be where he needed us. He's a quarterback channeling his inner offensive coordinator," he snorts.
"But now he's trying to shut us down," says Dani.
"It's connected to Ms. Schumacher somehow," says Sam. "Petersen was thrown in prison for aggravated assault and battery for twenty years," she continues, "which pretty much killed his football career before it got started."
"Why?" asks the Phantom.
"Petersen says that he just felt like it that day," says Dash, "but I know he's lying."
"How do you know?" asks the Phantom tersely. "What proof do you have?"
Dash sighs. "Could you take me inside the school halls," he asks, "near the principal's office?"
The Phantom studies Dash a moment, then nods. He grabs Dash and both phase into the school building.
At his castle in Wisconsin, Vlad glowers in irritation as the carpet cleaners finish their repairs to his carpet. "A halfa-mouse," he mutters. "It's as though Ghostwriter is hacking together shoddy fan fiction. That had to be the worst deus ex machina I've ever seen."
A thin, elderly man enters the castle foyer with two burly bodyguards.
"My castle is closed to visitors," says Vlad tiredly, "and is generally only open by appointment."
"I always have an appointment, Vladimir," says the elderly man coldly.
Vlad's eyes widen. "C-councilman Carlisle," he says, rising from his perch on the stairs to greet Carlisle. "What brings you to Madison from Amity Park?"
"A proposition," says Carlisle. He sends his bodyguards outside. "I need you to kill a few high school students for me."
"W-why!?" sputters Vlad. "Why would I do something like that!? Do you have any idea what I would stand to lose?"
"I will make it worth your while," says Carlisle coolly, "if you could arrange to have Plasmius attack Casper High School and kill the students on this list," he says, handing Vlad a document, "along with a few others at random to make it look good-like a meaningless attack of terror."
Vlad peruses the list. "What makes you think that I am in contact with this Plasmius ghost?" he asks as he hands Carlisle the list.
Carlisle gives Vlad a nasty smile. "Because you are Plasmius, you Hammer horror movie fanboy," he sneers. "Don't try to shit me. You couldn't even shit Jack Fenton, and that man is a lummox.
"You won't get any argument from me about Jack being a lummox," scoffs Vlad, glaring at his ecto-enhanced apple tree, "but even allowing your presumption, why would Plasmius waste precious energy attacking a high school and killing children?"
"Because I told you to," spits Carlisle.
"Why the hell would I do what you say?" says Vlad.
"Because I know how you began your wealth," spits Carlisle. "Your entire life is a lie financed by theft," he continues, "and without that lie, you would be nothing more than an ecto-acne pock-marked little freak, pining for that hayseed from Arkansas."
"Presuming that I am Plasmius," says Vlad, "I would be able to kill you with a thought."
"And if you kill me," says Carlisle, "my executors have been authorized to release sealed records upon my death that will destroy you." Carlisle cackles. "I picked you, Vladimir," he continues, "because I knew that I'd own you."
"I beg your pardon?" asks Vlad.
"You know exactly what I mean," says Carlisle. "Did you think I would sink venture capital into your little startup without getting a return on my investment?" he asks. "I've come to collect."
Vlad transforms into Plasmius. "I am not wasting my power to act as your supernatural hitman," he spits, "especially not on such prime targets as Dash Baxter, Samantha Manson, or Tucker Foley."
"Don't forget the three Fenton brats," says Carlisle. "I can have my men take care of Jack, and then you can finally woo the fuck out of Dr. Madeline."
"You corrupt little cretin!" snarls Vlad. "Do you honestly think I'm that easily bought!?"
"It's insulting, I know," says Carlisle, "but it's also the truth, Vladimir: you are an easy lay."
Vlad seethes at Carlisle.
"Those meddling kids are putting their noses where they don't belong," says Carlisle, "and they have to pay the price."
"'Meddling kids', Julian?" snorts Vlad. "What is this: a bad episode of Scooby Doo?"
"The criminals on that idiotic show would have gotten away with their schemes if they had thought to kill the brats first-and their stupid dog, too," says Carlisle.
Vlad shudders in disgust. "Give me the fucking list," he says.
Carlisle smirks.
The Phantom and Dash arrive at their destination within the halls of Casper High.
"You see, Phantom..." says Dash, an obstinate scowl on his face, "in order to explain why I'm right, I need visual aids."
The Phantom watches as Dash gently touches the glass display case near Principal Ishikawa's office, the light of the full moon acting as a natural stage spotlight.
"Three," continues Dash, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Three?" wonders the Phantom.
"Three Heisman trophies!" declares Dash. "All earned by one player."
The Phantom, still floating, eases back.
Dash continues. "You're considered top-level talent if you earn one," he says. "Randolph Petersen earned three: one for each year he was in varsity."
"So?" asks the Phantom.
"'So!?'" balks Dash. "That's incredible!"
"I...hate to sound heartless," says the Phantom coldly, "but at the end of the day, Dash, it's just a game."
Dash snickers. "Yeah," he sneers. "'It's just a game' that pays our school's bills. 'It's just a game' that strengthens the ties of our community. Football: a sport which when played at the professional level, has its own unofficial national holiday...to your average, uninspired geek," spits Dash, seething, "it's just a fucking game."
"It...is..." says the Phantom, astonished by Dash's fury.
"Yeah," continues Dash. "'Game'. The word sounds trivial, doesn't it?" he asks.
The Phantom nods.
"Calling sports like football or basketball 'games', where you're just 'throwing a ball around', is-to serious athletes-like calling the Apollo mission 'shooting bottle rockets'. It's like saying Baby Jesus' crucifixion was just bad frat hazing."
"'Baby Jesus...'" mutters the Phantom. Dash's grandfather is a bad influence on him, Danny says to himself.
"But I don't blame the geeks," says Dash, shrugging. "They're right to feel that way."
"What...?" asks the Phantom, staring at Dash.
"The geeks didn't trivialize sports," continues Dash, a bitter smile on his face. "We did. Or, to be precise," he adds, "jerkasses like me did."
"I don't get it," says the Phantom.
"'Those amateur athletes among us who abuse their God-given physical prowess to oppress the weaker-bodied,'" says Dash, "'do a grave disservice to the game we love; they are a disgrace to the sport, and are no friends of mine'." He grins crudely at the Phantom. "That was 'Mr. Perfect's' own words, dedicated to the memory of Sidney Poindexter. That was why Petersen felt justified in tormenting me," continues Dash. "I am the living embodiment of everything that's taking a steaming dump on the sport he loves."
"So...?" says the Phantom.
"Petersen's...not me," says Dash, pointing to a vintage honor roll wall. "Do you know what it takes to consistently make the honor roll and earn three Heismans?" he asks. "The inhuman work ethic? Do you honestly think," Dash continues, "that Petersen would piss all of that work away because he just 'felt like it'!?"
"Nobody knows what he was thinking that day," says the Phantom. "Maybe he snapped. Maybe all of the pressure of being 'Mr. Perfect'-trying to honor everyone's expectations-just broke him."
"And one poor, innocent little '50-era geek just happened to be on the receiving end of Petersen's bad day," Dash sneers. "I don't buy it," he adds quietly.
"Why don't you buy it?" scoffs the Phantom. "I happen to know of several geeks who have been on the receiving end of your bad days."
"You're talking about nice nerds like Danny Fenton and Tucker Foley, Phantom," says Dash. "I freely plead guilty to being the bad guy. Foley is harmlessly annoying and clueless, while Fenton...is an oblivious yet insurmountable waist-high fence standing between me and what I want."
The Phantom quirks an eyebrow.
"Of course, when Jazz wanted to play psychologist with me, and asked me to write down these feelings in a journal that she would read-to help me quit picking on her baby brother by addressing my 'anger management' issues," continues Dash, "my atrocious spelling of words I know damned well how to use in sentences rendered that impossible!"
So: the reason Dash is an asshole is because he's too insecure to just buy a fucking dictionary, snorts Danny mentally as he continues listening to Dash.
"But I bet that you probably think I'm just blaming the victim, huh?" says Dash.
"Yep," says the Phantom. "Petersen mauled that guy. He could have killed him."
"True," says Dash, "but Petersen also beat the shit out of Miles Edward Baxter. Surely you don't think he was some poor, physically-inept nerd when he was a kid?"
Your 'grandpa' was one of Sidney Poindexter's worst enemies, muses Danny ruefully, recalling a black-and-white photo at Miles' house of a teenaged Miles in a black leather jacket and jeans...and also remembering that the astral projection of the same fellow had shoved Danny-as-Sidney in a locker when Sidney had forced Danny to switch bodies with him.
Dash grins cannily at the Phantom.
"No," says the Phantom aloud, returning the grin. "I can't honestly say that."
"Then it's reasonable to know the type of person the victim was without necessarily blaming him, don't you think?" asks Dash.
"You are such a lawyer!" pouts the Phantom.
"My mom's a senior partner in her family's law firm," says Dash. "I think if she had been Petersen's defense attorney," he adds, "she could have gotten him off."
"Perry Mason couldn't have saved Petersen," scoffs the Phantom, rolling his eyes.
"Because Mason would have been found in contempt of court when he tried to extract confessions from the poor fools on the witness stand to save his clients from the death penalty," says Dash. "Mom has a love-hate relationship with that show."
The Phantom turns around, stifling a snicker as he remembers Randy laughing as Dash's mother, Lindsay, raged at a Perry Mason episode.
"Anyway," continues Dash, "the victim was Councilman Julian Carlisle, who my grandfather hates with the fury of a thousand suns."
"Dash," says the Phantom, "Mr. Baxter is a sixty-nine year-old crank who hates almost everyone with the fury of a thousand suns. You'll have to be specific."
"Grandpa said that Sidney Poindexter was the type of geek you didn't have any real hard feelings for," says Dash. "You just gave guys like Poindexter a noogie or slammed him into a locker to pass the time. Carlisle, on the other hand," Dash continues, "was this unctuous rich kid with a smirk on his face that was begging to make hot, sticky love to a bully's knuckles."
"You have a penchant for sick metaphors, don't you, Dash?" says the Phantom, grinning in spite of himself.
"Look at that picture," says Dash, pointing to a picture of a teenaged Carlisle sneering for a school photo, "and tell me that face has not earned my fist."
"Carlisle's face didn't deserve to be rearranged by Petersen simply because he looked like a smug cockhat," says the Phantom.
"And Petersen's too smart to give in to that basic urge," says Dash, "otherwise, Carlisle's face would have been a fist-shaped crater in that photo."
"What is your point, Dash?" asks the Phantom. "That the kid who grew up to become a city councilman deserved to have his face pounded like cheap beefsteak by 'Mr. Perfect's' fists?"
"Yes," says Dash.
"Why?" asks the Phantom.
"Because Petersen only got into two physical altercations in high school. One was with my grandpa," says Dash, "and one was with Carlisle. My grandfather, bless his heart, clearly did something to deserve his beating," Dash continues, "and I maintain that Carlisle did something to merit the same from Petersen."
"What makes you say that?" asks the Phantom. I'm asking this goon a lot of questions, balks Danny silently.
"Once is coincidence," says Dash. "Twice is a pattern. We have to find the common thread between these beatdowns."
"And you've already found it," says the Phantom.
"Her name," says Dash softly, looking at a photo of Randy standing with a pretty, demure teenage girl, "is Paula Schumacher."
In disguise, Vlad sits in the school auditorium at Casper High, observing as the students boredly listen to a teacher drone on about the vital importance of a standardized test.
Vlad notes as Dash throws a wad of paper in Sam's direction, hitting her head with the paper projectile. Annoyed, Sam scrutinizes the wad of paper, opens the paper up, studies it a moment, then blushes.
Squaring her shoulders as the red in her cheeks fades, Sam tears the unwadded sheet of paper into pieces. Dash gives Sam an arrogant smile.
High school can be so stupid and boring, says Vlad sullenly to himself. Killing the students here is an insult to my abilities...and yet, I've got to do it.
Vlad stands, preparing to transform and slay the teenagers on his hit list, starting with Danny, who stares blearily at the light fixtures as he silently wishes for the teacher to end this pointless lecture.
I can fill myself with blind rage towards Daniel, and direct that at them all, muses Vlad. "It's so idiotically easy," he hisses aloud. "Just kill everyone in this room."
Dani, sitting on the front row, trembles as her ghost sense goes off. She looks up the aisle and notes Vlad standing, his spectral aura visible even in human form.
Vlad locks his eyes onto Dani's own. "I'll...I..." he hisses inaudibly, only to grow silent. "I can't do it," he spits, scowling in disgust as he looks away from Dani. "I won't."
Vlad leaves the auditorium, glowering.
Did we...just escape certain death...? wonders Dani.
Jack, lying on a bed inside a cabin in boxers and a T-shirt, wakes to the sound of rain and an opening door.
Vlad stands in the cabin foyer. "Jack?" he groans. "Why are you in the Loser Cabin?"
"Isn't this where losers belong, Vlad?" asks Jack tonelessly.
"You're not a loser, Jack," says Vlad. "I can't believe you drove all the way to upstate New York to lie around in a dilapidated, mosquito-infested log cabin in your underwear."
"So why are you here?" says Jack.
Vlad gives Jack a wry grin. "Because that's my spot. If you're not going to leave," he says, "then at least move over."
Bemused, Jack shakes his head as he complies.
The two former friends stare at the anemic wooden ceiling fan for several minutes.
"We're still not friends, you know," says Jack.
"Of course not," scoffs Vlad. "I crossed a line between us, something I had resolved to do a long time ago, because I'm a selfish bastard."
"Something I could live with," says Jack, "if you hadn't crossed that line."
"I know. I threatened your family. I will continue to be a threat to your family," says Vlad. "However," he continues, handing Jack his hit list from Carlisle, "our enmity will be on my own terms."
Jack sits up; he stares at the list, printed neatly in Times New Roman, in disbelief.
"I refuse to be reduced to an otherworldy killer for that slimy old worm," Vlad sneers.
"Who is this 'slimy old worm' that wanted you to kill my children?" asks Jack.
"Julian Carlisle," says Vlad. "I killed the hitmen he sent here to kill you, by the way-their corpses are outside. The only reason no one in Amity Park is reading about Carlisle's death in the local paper is that he does, admittedly, have me by the balls."
"Okay," says Jack. "I know that Carlisle sent the hitmen after me as part of his attempt to pay you off. He clearly failed to factor in how huge your ego is," Jack continues, smiling, "and the fact that you do have a conscience."
"Indeed," spits Vlad. "Do you know why I hate you, Jack?"
"Because I married the woman you've lusted after since college?" asks Jack.
"No; that's just why I want to kill you. I hate you, Jack," says Vlad, "because while most people's consciences are basically like you see in old cartoons: diminutive angel and demon versions of themselves; my demon demiurge looks like me, all right, but my angelic conscience looks like you."
"I'm not even close to being a saint," snorts Jack, scowling obstinately.
"Quit moping in here, you lummox," says Vlad. "You're so pure-hearted that it makes you obnoxiously easy to tweak. I guarantee you, Jack," Vlad continues, "that giving my cloned teenage girl her first adult kiss does not put you in the same category as Roman Polanski!"
"Do you honestly believe I wanted to stop there?" asks Jack tersely.
"No, because you're a man with normal urges," says Vlad, "who has slammed face-first into the brick wall of moral ambiguity."
"Oh, wait," Jack snorts, "I forget that you're the guy who wrote a term paper defending Humbert Humbert in Lolita."
"I got an A on that paper," says Vlad, smug.
"Look," says Jack, "let's just work on getting your balls out of Carlisle's grip and my kids out of his gun sights."
Vlad stares at Jack. "Why would you bother to help me?" he asks.
"Same as you," says Jack. "'Our enmity will be on my terms'. Keep this thing clear and distinct between us, you get it?"
"Most emphatically, Jack," grins Vlad.
On the steps outside Dash's house, Sam reads a vintage news article detailing Randy's assault on Carlisle.
Lindsay steps out, sitting next to Sam. She glances at the paper. "I honestly think Randy needed a better lawyer," she says.
"I take it you're signing onto your son's theory, Mrs. Baxter?" asks Sam wryly.
"I always side with my son when I'm in defense attorney mode," says Lindsay. "And in this case, there aren't any holes."
"Ms. Schumacher, as a teenager, was threatened in some way," says Sam, "and Randy-that is to say, Mr. Petersen-had defended her by beating Carlisle's face to a bloody pulp. If that were the case," she asks, "why wouldn't Mr. Petersen have said so?"
Lindsay sighs. "Because of the scene of the crime," she says. "It was the Point."
Sam stares at Lindsay.
"If, as I suspect, Ms. Schumacher was being assaulted by Carlisle at that time," continues Lindsay, "that would be the only reason Mr. Petersen would have gone to such lengths to beat the shit out of him."
"But why wouldn't Mr. Petersen simply have said: 'that rotten little gunsel was raping Paula' to exonerate himself and save his career?" asks Sam. "No jury would convict a kid who was stopping something like that-especially a hometown hero like Mr. Petersen was back then."
Dash, unnoticed, opens the door and stands in the doorway.
"That's just it, Sammy: it was 'back then'," says Lindsay. "It took 1960s bra-burning and decades of beating the mantra of 'no means no' into generations of thick male skulls," she continues with a quirk of her lips as she notes Dash, "to get us to the point where a rape would be reported."
"Somehow," says Sam, "I don't think Ms. Schumacher was ever the type of girl who could have the retarded reputation of 'asking for it'."
"You're right," says Lindsay. "She was very demure as a young woman. But the question would still be asked: 'what was she doing at the Point but what all teenagers did at the Point during prom night?'"
"And rather than put Ms. Schumacher through that bullshit," says Dash, "Petersen took the late hit and kept his mouth shut until he died." Only for the asshole to haunt me, a guy who has, at best, only a tangential link to any of this 1950s crap, muses Dash ruefully as he gives Sam a grin.
"There are only two ways we'll be able to prove it at this point," says Sam. "Either get Ms. Schumacher to come forward and let us know what really happened..."
No chance in hell that Petersen will let us try to convince her to do that, says Dash to himself.
"Or," continues Sam, "extract a confession from Carlisle by getting him to incriminate himself."
"Which only works in cartoons and on Perry Mason," says Lindsay. "Carlisle will not incriminate himself. He's a city councilman running for the US Senate," she continues, "and as much as I'd like to destroy him if this is true-and I think it's true-we can't hope that he'd be as stupid as a Scooby Doo villain."
"If he's that smart," scoffs Sam as she closes the paper, "he'd try to kill us meddling kids first."
Lindsay takes the paper back. "I'll have to give this back to Miles," she says as she starts to enter the house. "You two behave yourselves."
"What's that supposed to mean!?" balk Sam and Dash in unison.
Lindsay suppresses a giggle, then touches Dash's shoulder. "You and she need to talk," she whispers to Dash, then enters the house.
Dash looks down at Sam a moment; he then gulps air, squares his shoulders, and sits down next to Sam.
Sam trembles, then rubs her arms.
Dash places an arm around Sam's shoulders and draws her to his side. "You know why Grieseman sucks?" he asks, a thin smile on his face.
"I'm not a jock," says Sam, pouting as she blushes, "so I don't know."
"Aside from the fact that he chokes under pressure," says Dash, "Grieseman sends mixed signals."
Sam sighs as she leans onto Dash. "You'll have to forgive me," she says, "if I don't always grok your metaphors."
The pair of teenagers sit together in silence.
Danny and Dani arrive at a lit Phantom Signal near the Amity Park Police Department.
"There's no one here," says Danny. "This could be a trap."
"Not by Randy, I hope," says Dani. "I don't think we can compete against a guy who can summon most of the Ghost Zone after us."
"No, Danielle," says a voice. "Not 'Randy'."
Both Danny and Dani tremble a moment as their ghost senses trigger.
Danny sighs as he and Dani revert to normal. "I'm relieved to see that you've returned to form, Vlad," he says. "Plotting to attack a school auditorium to get to me was just sad and out of character."
"You think, Daniel?" sneers Vlad as he makes himself visible. "Quite frankly, I don't hate you enough to gin up the required outrage to pull off such a stupid ploy."
Danny stares at Vlad, confused.
"Oh, I tried," continues Vlad, "I really did. But in the end, I think I'd rather know the reason an idiot decided to blackmail me into being his hired spectral gun."
"Whoever he is," says Dani, "he knows your secrets."
"Julian Carlisle," say Danny and Vlad in unison.
Vlad steps back in shock. "How did you know?" he asks, astonished.
"Because our little investigative team is getting too close to the truth," says Danny, "and Carlisle doesn't want to take the chance that we'd stumble onto proof."
"In other words," says Vlad in disbelief, "Carlisle really is a genre savvy Scooby Doo villain. Who exactly is the Fred Jones of your groovy Mystery Machine, Daniel?" he asks.
"Dash Baxter," says Danny wryly. "And considering that this started in Amity Park, this is more like the Scooby Doo cartoon movies than the old cartoon shows."
"Yeah," adds Dani, rolling her eyes. "The ghosts are real, but only one of them has anything to do with the case."
"And I take it," says Vlad, "that 'Randy' is the ghost at the center of this mystery."
Danny and Dani nod.
"Party at Poindexter's! Party at Poindexter's!" crows Dash as he continues bouncing Danny over his shoulders.
"Is this really necessary, clyde?" asks Danny wryly with a passable Sidney impression.
"Authenticity, Fenton," says Dash as he sets Danny down, then preens in his black leather jacket.
It's not his fault, muses Danny to himself, ruefully grinning as he adjusts his costume glasses and Sidney Poindexter outfit. Dash doesn't know this would be the second time I've had to be Sidney Poindexter.
"I hope he's got some good music," sneers Star, wearing a white Casper High sweater and a vintage poodle skirt.
"You're asking too much of Poindexter," grins Dash. "He might have some big band records from last decade if we're lucky."
Danny unlocks the door to Poindexter's house. "Welcome," he sighs. "The people I actually invited to be here may enter first."
Kwan, in a vintage Casper High letterman jacket, white T-shirt, khakis and loafers, holds Dash back. "Be a good bean, Miles," he says, "it's only fair. After you, Paula," Kwan continues, bowing to Jazz as she enters.
Jazz smiles shyly, smoothing a plain brown skirt, then enters the house. Kwan follows after, then Danny, Dash, Star, and Sam: dressed as a beatnik in a faded lavender sweater and black jeans.
Paulina pouts. "I wanted to dress up, too!" she says.
Dani rolls her eyes.
"While this party happened after Brown v. the Board of Education," says Valerie, "the one black kid at Casper High during that time was so annoying that he got kicked out."
"That was because great-uncle Gino was a religious nutcase," says Tucker, wearing a constipated scowl on his face as he impersonated his late great uncle. "Poindexter had petitioned the county school board because he was an atheist who argued that his First Amendment rights were being violated," Tucker continues, returning his voice to normal, "whenever Gino derailed classes and teachers had to address Gino's retarded understanding of Christianity."
"Dr. King and the NAACP had all trailed here from Alabama to hear Gino Jennings Foley speak before the school and determine if Casper High-a school in the North-was just trying to duck Brown and stay lily-white," says Valerie. "Once Gino opened his mouth, all doubt was silenced; Dr. King apologized on behalf of the black community and promised to send Casper High non-idiots immediately."
"I think it was the Oneness Pentecostal Unitarianism that did it for Dr. King," says Tucker. "That said, all of Gino's religiosity couldn't hide the fact that he was a closeted gay black man who died of AIDS in 1997."
"No need to be so historically accurate, though," says Paulina, rolling her eyes as she enters. Tucker, Dani, and Valerie follow her in, and Tucker locks the door.
Danny spins the bottle. The bottle opening stops at Sam, with the base pointing at Dash.
"That's weird," says Danny, still in character as Sidney. "This is the fourth time this has occurred."
"As cute as the little beatnik is," says Dash with a sly look to Sam, "she's already steady with some Jew named Manson from Amity Prep."
"Samuel's a nice guy," says Sam, mentioning her grandmother's late husband.
"Yeah," says Dash, tongue-in-cheek, "but he killed Baby Jesus."
"No, Baxter," counters Sam in like tone, "if you actually read your King James Bible instead of listening to anti-Semitic mythology, then you and your ancestors would have long realized that the Romans were the ones who killed 'Baby Jesus'. We would not have killed a heretical Jew by crucifixion."
"Let's try this one more time," says Danny, rolling his eyes. He spins the bottle again.
The bottle spins, then stops...standing straight up.
The teenagers stare at the bottle in disbelief.
Danny trembles a moment, then scowls as he opens his gray eyes. "Randy," he spits. "Cut this out; you're being a real heel."
"I don't know what you're talking about," says Kwan with a smug grin on his face.
"The heck you don't, buster brown!" counters Danny, stomping his feet.
Dani sneaks up to Sam. "Danny and Kwan have both been overshadowed," she whispers.
"I kind of gathered that when Danny's Sidney impersonation suddenly improved," smirks Sam.
"It's not good manners to prank your host, Randy," says Jazz, elbowing Kwan to activate the hidden Specter Deflector.
Kwan snaps his fingers, and the Specter Deflector fails.
"Petersen's here, all right," mutters Tucker.
"Come on, Randy," says Danny, "be serious. You and I both know how this spin went down."
"How?" asks Kwan. "The bottle spins randomly," he continues, "though I will admit that I'm poking a little fun at Dashiell and Eve."
Dash stares at Kwan. "Get out of Kwan, Petersen!" he demands.
"All right, all right," says Kwan.
Randy phases out of Kwan, appearing to the teenagers as himself.
"Petersen's a ghost!?" balk Star and Paulina.
"Yep," grins Dash. "Told you guys I wasn't crazy."
"I went on a date with a ghost..." says Star nervously before she faints.
"She was a more interesting date than her grandmother," says Randy. He turns to Danny, still overshadowed by Sidney. "You still haven't answered my question."
"I know the outcome of this spin," says Danny-Sidney, "because I had rigged the game."
Randy's eyes widen.
"You and Paula cared so much about each other," Danny-Sidney continues. "I...had just wanted to help you two break the ice. But then Leather Jacket and the rest of the gang came to the party, too," he adds, jerking his thumb at Dash. "That's when I decided to have everyone play 'Spin the Bottle'."
"You set a motor to control the bottle to make sure nobody else got to spend 'Seven Minutes" with either of us," says Randy.
Danny-Sidney nods.
"But...why? Why not just set us up on a blind date?" wonders Randy.
"Check the date, clyde," scowls Danny-Sidney.
Randy scratches his head.
Jazz's eyes widen. "It's about two weeks before..." she gasps.
"Correct," says Sidney as he phases out of Danny. "I wanted to make sure one thing went right in this world," he continues, taking off his glasses, "before I blew this joint."
Danny trembles as he regains control of himself. "What just happened?" he asks.
"You and Kwan were overshadowed by ghosts, Fenton," says Dash, nodding towards Sidney and Randy.
Danny pouts at Sidney.
Randy winces. "It didn't work...the way you thought it would have," he says, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Of course it didn't," says Sidney. "Neither of you would just spit it out afterwards," he continues, "because you were just as clueless about reconciling your own feelings versus people's expectations back then as Dash is now."
"Hold the phone!" balks Dash. "I don't have a damn thing to do with this 1950s sock hop soap opera. My only connection to this shit, Poindexter," Dash continues, "is my grandfather-and he was only the bully that made your life a living hell."
Sidney shakes his head. "It's true that Leather Jacket didn't improve matters with regard to my life, but at the end of the day," he shrugs, "he was just your standard rebel without a clue. No," Sidney continues, "my life was already crap before I ever crossed paths with him or any of the other bullies in high school. Randy and Paula were among the few bright spots in my life, and this was my final way of thanking them."
"Actually," says Randy, "I'd say that because Miles-my best friend, by the way-was an obnoxiously persistent asshole, and the son of a strong-willed man who never gave up under terrible odds," he continues, "that he managed to somehow build a family of passionate, driven, and flawed human beings: of which the latest scion is you, Dashiell Miles Baxter."
Dash stares at Randy.
"How to carry on the legacy of a Bataan death march survivor, Miles, and your father, Andrew the accountant," continues Randy with a grin, "is up to you."
"That's all very delectable grist for the Oprah Winfrey Show," says Dash sardonically, "but now we need to shut down Carlisle, because he's trying to kill us."
"Carlisle..." seethes Randy.
"Indeed," says Carlisle, stepping out of the shadows as he applauds mockingly.
"Why are you here?" asks Danny.
"How do you keep getting in here?" demands Sidney. "You were specifically disinvited when I threw the party," he adds, scowling, "and you certainly weren't invited here by these kids."
"In the latter case, it's mostly because having a stringy, creepy old man lurking in the shadows of a teen costume party is just wrong somehow," adds Paulina.
Star stirs and wakes up, noting Carlisle, Randy, and Sidney. "It's...not a dream..." she mutters.
"Don't faint again, girl," says Valerie, grinning at Star.
"I can't allow the lot of you to destroy my life because I showed one cunt what it was like to be with a real man on prom night fifty years ago," Carlisle sneers. "The little slut moved on, and so have I."
"Did the city councilman just call our second-grade schoolteacher those names...?" wonders Paulina, staring at Carlisle in disbelief.
"Why not?" asks Carlisle. "The shoe fits, after all. I wasn't even her first. Go on," he continues crudely. "Tell them, Petersen: tell them what a good, cheap fuck Paula was."
Randy's eyes and body glow as he burns with rage. "I'll do what I should have done fifty years ago," he says quietly. "I'll simply kill this bastard and be done with it."
"Let me field this, Petersen," says Dash. "Don't waste another minute of your afterlife on this guy."
"What exactly are you going to do, young man," scoffs Carlisle, "assault a city councilman?"
Dash shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong, old man," he says, "you were moaning like a two-cent porn star for my knuckle sandwiches before my dad was born: talking shit about Ms. Schumacher; but I'd rather break down why you suck, Julian Carlisle."
"I...I beg your pardon?" Carlisle sputters.
"One: do you really think we believe Ms. Schumacher considered you a real man after experiencing 'Mr. Perfect' over here?" asks Dash, jerking his head towards a still-glowering Randy, held in check by Sidney and Dani. "Fuck, I'll just stop right there," he snickers.
"Let me continue," sneers Star. "You had a failed combover ever since you were fourteen, and my grandma told me once that she got her three-hundred pound maid Gertrude to impersonate her when you blackmailed her into a date...and you didn't notice."
"The thought of you in the shadows is creepier to me than the two ghosts," says Paulina.
"And if you hadn't tried to kill us 'meddling kids'," scoffs Danny, "you really would have gotten away scot-free."
"Except for when Randy rearranged your face," quips Dani.
"Which, given the original and what you have going now," says Dash, "was an improvement."
"You...you brats have no right to insult me!" spits Carlisle.
"Dude," says Kwan, "you are an insult."
Carlisle snorts. "I've already called the authorities regarding your break-in to this abandoned building," he says, collecting himself.
"What break-in?" asks Sam.
"We have a key," adds Tucker, holding the key to Sidney's house.
"You're the only shriveled-up piece of shit who's in here illegally," says Valerie.
"It's your inconsequential words versus mine, children," counters Carlisle. "All I have to state is that you stole the key."
"And how would that be possible, Councilman?" says Ms. Schumacher, entering Sidney's house with Miles. "I gave Tucker the key when Dash told me about this costume party."
"Mr. Carlisle said a lot of bad words about you," says Paulina in a childlike voice.
"I can imagine," says Ms. Schumacher. "But you know that old saying..."
"'Sticks and stones will break my bones,'" say the teens in unison, "'but words will never hurt me'."
"And I don't feel we should waste any more words on you, Julie," says Miles, punching Carlisle in the face and knocking him out in one hit.
Ms. Schumacher sighs, shaking her head at Miles.
"Ah," says Miles, gently rubbing his knuckles, "my fist is finally satisfied. That, Randall," he quips to Randy, "is how you deal with the likes of Carlisle. But I know from experience," he adds with an understanding smile, "that you don't do a half-assed job of anything-especially when it's about Paula."
Ms. Schumacher winces down at the inert Carlisle, a mixture of outrage and hurt on her face, then looks at Randy.
"Is...it over...?" whispers Randy.
Dani tugs on Randy's sleeve. "It is if you want it to be, champ," she grins.
The group exits Sidney's house; Sidney floats away, a sad smile on his face, as he returns to the Ghost Zone.
Danny, Jazz, and Dani enjoy fruit smoothies while atop the roof of Fenton Works.
"He'll be out in a month," says Danny blandly.
Dani gives Danny a quizzical look. "Carlisle?" she asks.
"Of course not," snorts Danny. "Vlad. Carlisle won't survive a month in prison."
"Because 'Bubba' will get him?" asks Dani. "Because it would serve him right."
"Nope," says Danny, "because Vlad will eviscerate Carlisle with impunity for the latter's utter incompetence."
"But what about Carlisle's executors?" asks Jazz.
"Vlad undercut that threat to his wealth and power by turning himself in for his theft and making restitution to the companies he stole from," says Danny, "after he bribed the executors."
"In other words," say Jazz and Dani in unison, "Vlad wins."
"But why even bother to go to prison?" wonders Dani.
"Vlad told me," says Danny, "that he wanted to start off our renewed rivalry with a clean slate, untainted by compromise."
"Weird," says Dani, shaking her head as she leaves the roof.
"Yep," adds Jazz, following Dani out. "Your dad's one seriously crazed-up fruit loop."
Danny shakes his head, smiling.
"In a way," says Randy, "he's like a cool uncle you never realized you had."
"Yeah," says Danny, "an evil uncle who wants to fuck my mom."
"Right," snorts Randy. "While your dad and your biological little half-sister clone want to screw each other."
Danny shrugs. "Hey," he says. "My dad didn't sire her; Vlad did-with my mom's hair. With all the weird shit I've endured since I started being the Phantom," he continues, "who am I to judge?"
"I suppose your mom figures that there's just too much of your old man to be sated by one woman," says Randy, rolling his eyes.
"I wouldn't go that far," scoffs Danny. "She's going to set some ground rules if Dad ever lets it come to that."
"Naturally," says Randy. "Your mom knows she has the goods."
Danny chuckles; Randy follows suit.
A red-haired girl in glasses hits Randy in the back of the head with a ruler. "You're being uncouth, Randy," she says.
Randy rubs the back of his head. "Sorry, Paula," he says, grinning.
"And Daniel," Paula admonishes with a frown, "I thought you had better manners and upbringing than that. To suggest such shocking things."
"Ms. Schumacher," says Danny, "I'm almost sixteen, and my upbringing occurs in a place," he continues, picking up Pinky and feeding him peanut butter from a celery stick, "where a lab mouse can get superpowers."
Paula sighs. "I apologize for being a stick in the mud," she says. "Our times are simply different."
"I think," says Danny, "that we're all just trying to turn the whole world into the Garden of Eden: a place where we can be naked, and not ashamed of ourselves."
Randy stifles a boyish smile, unable to hide a slightly lewd twinkle in his eyes.
Paula touches her chin a moment. "That's very thoughtful," she says, smiling. "Now, I'll go with Randy whereever he wants," she continues with a wry grin at Randy, "but he'll have to quit thinking of me naked and covered in mud."
"The woman has eyes inside my brain, Danny," says Randy, drawing Paula to his side. "I was a fool to ever let her go."
"Yeah," says Danny. "I guess my job is to make sure," he continues as he looks down at Sam arguing with Dash; a wistful smile on his face, "that certain mistakes never repeat themselves."
"Will you be alright?" asks Paula.
"You two take care of yourselves," says Danny, turning invisible. "Sam's part of my family," he continues, "and my job is to make her happy." Danny dives down, briefly overshadows Dash, pulls Sam into a kiss, then phases out of Dash; watching the pair continue kissing as he makes himself visible.
Randy and Paula smile down on the three teenagers. "Paula," he says, "I think those meddling kids of yours are all right."
The pair of ghost teenagers fade away.
THE END
