Finding out he was stronger too hadn't gone well either.
Not panic inducing like the invisibility and intangibility, but still. Not well.
It'd been a week of school. A week of Tucker finally actually listening to some of the chatter and picking up the same thing he'd overheard at the hospital in their gossip. Well. Told. By Yvette.
Also. Screw any of the teachers who tried to tell him he had to take the hat off his head. It stayed.
Jazz speaking about her parents searching for ghosts around town should have been a hint too maybe. But the elder Fentons searching for ghosts wasn't exactly new or news. They'd been doing that for years.
Dash had gathered up enough confidence to come up to Tucker. Not boisterous or anything Tucker may have expected out of Dash. Earnest and sincere, but kind of awkward, Dash said his piece about how he felt after his dad passed away right before middle school. And how he felt about Danny and Sam passing. Sad. Looking ready to break down, voice catching as he spoke in that genuine quiet tone to Tucker. Gave his condolences. Then offered out a hand.
"I know it's not the same, can't make up for middle school, get them back so I could maybe say I never… I'll always leave a seat open for you or if you want to hang out or anything. I always kind of wished… You know. Before middle school, when my mom was taking all the old stuff from the house and filling it up with new, uh, after my dad… I saw you coming up. And well, I always kind of wished I'd called out or… Anyway."
Fidgeting, looking at his feet shuffling about, blue eyes cautiously peered back up at Tucker.
"Yeah. So. I can't do anything about that now, but, if you need someone, I—"
It'd been a reveal and offer of friendship Tucker had not expected or wanted or any of the feelings attached.
Shouting, he'd shoved.
Shoved the young star quarterback across the hallway and into the lockers.
As in into the lockers.
There had been a sizable dent made into the row of lockers.
Staring, wide eyed at his raised up hands and at the shocked blue eyes of whom he just shoved across the hallway into the lockers, Tucker had been frozen.
Then he tore off down the hallway and out of sight of everyone staring at him for what he'd just done.
Ran to the safety of the empty auditorium, behind the stage, among all the props and boxes.
A sudden chill sent shivers down Tucker's spine, a visible breath of air exiting his mouth.
What the—
"These are my boxes! For I am the Box Ghost!"
Jaw dropping, Tucker couldn't take his eyes off the chubby little man that'd shouted at him. Who was blue. And floating. Two of the boxes holding costumes flying up next to him.
Ghost?
Box Ghost?
Really?
That wasn't a name, that was—
Box. Flying at him. Don't want to be hit by that.
Still weird to have something go through him, but intangibility had its moments. For getting into locked places and now not being hit by a huge box. Tucker would take it.
"Who are you?" The ghost yelled in shock.
"Tucker! You know, an actual real name!"
"Well Tucker You Know An Actual Real Name, I, the Box Ghost—"
"Let me guess, have a thing about boxes?" Tucker snarked up at the ghost.
The ghost looked like he could be a warehouse worker, but seriously! What was the deal with the boxes? Was it a ghost thing? Would he get some sort of ghost thing like this? No, no. His name was Tucker. Tucker Foley.
Would Danny and Sam have some sort of ghost thing like this when he found them? Would they have glowing red eyes like this guy? Be blue?
Annoyed, Tucker snarled more at the ghost. "You don't have to throw them at me. You can keep them." Pausing, the question burst out of him. "You don't know Danny and Sam, do you?"
"Box Ghost knows not of these people of which you speak of Tucker You Know An Actual Real Name! And you will not stop I, the—" The chubby ghost blinked in surprise at Tucker. His echoing voice lowering in volume. "You will let me have these boxes?"
"Uh." Tucker paused, thrown. "I don't think I can give permission? They belong to the drama department."
"Who is the Drama Department? They best beware, for I, the Box Ghost have powers over all containers cardboard and square!"
With that, the self-proclaimed Box Ghost flew through the wall, taking the two boxes of costumes with him. Tucker could still hear the shouting declarations. And then the screaming.
"I have the thermoses!"
Going intangible again, Tucker followed the ghost rather than the long way around. Went through the half full costume filled room and then discovered why on the other side of it out in the hallway. Students fleeing, the Box Ghost cackling and shouting, sending various boxes and the items inside flying at everyone. Teachers sticking their head out from classrooms and quickly trying to get the kids inside the classrooms and the doors closed from the threat.
A threat which could fly through walls. Taking boxes with. Not the most damaging, but some of those were not cardboard. Some were made of thicker stuff.
Digging a thermos out of his backpack, Tucker swung it around and aimed.
Catching sight, Box Ghost flew lower to the ground, boxes swirling up around and in front of him.
And flew right for Tucker.
Fumbling, Tucker moved the aim of the thermos and to hold it steady with the power coming from it to pull the ghost into it. He kept missing. Boxes in the way. Box Ghost weaving in and around and through them. Through them. As in, through them, intangible. That's right. Like…like Tucker could do now.
"Ha! You may have somehow avoided my box earlier human, but I am the Box Ghost and—"
Sparing his grip on the thermos, Tucker removed a hand and focused, shoving.
The ghost flew across the hallway, shock apparently causing him to not be intangible and disappear through the wall, but to crash into it. Crackling lines splintered out across the white painted cinder blocks.
Tucker could touch the ghost. Even when intangible. When he was, when the ghost was. He was able to move the ghost. Shove the ghost. Box Ghost stunned where he landed. Stunned.
Right, right, right!
Box Ghost wasn't moving!
Turning his hand, Tucker aimed the powered on thermos at the ghost, which sucked the ghost up.
And then spent a minute standing there, admiring the piece of tech and what he'd just done.
This wasn't just gossip, overhearing it, stories told from someone who heard it from someone, or Jazz saying her parents were doing the same as usual. There were ghosts in Amity. A working portal to the Ghost Zone. Tucker couldn't bypass the DNA lock or get around that yet. But apparently, there were a few ghosts getting out—somehow—as the Fentons went inside it and investigated the device and place it lead to. Ghosts were real. Out and about.
And he had a way to touch them, deal with them, get them to answer questions he had. About Danny and Sam. About the Ghost Zone. The Fenton Portal. How they got here. If he remembered right from years of being friends with Danny and time at the Fentons place, there were naturally forming portals too. He could find a way in. To look for them.
Things were looking up.
A voice of sheer disbelief interrupted his thoughts. "Tucker?"
Just inside the Nurse's Office, door open, stood a certain Baxter. Blue eyes wide, mouth gaping wide, like he'd never seen Tucker before. Not really.
Yeah, well. Tucker had been through a freaky kind of accident, kept being stared at and pitied and treated weirdly, while feeling all out of sorts already. He'd lost his best friends. Danny and Sam. He'd lost all his best friends. The people who really mattered, were extensions of himself. Outside of his parents, that is. Tucker wasn't the same Tucker as last year.
"What?" He snarled.
Surprised, the other boy drew back, wincing and reaching a hand up to his midback. "N-nothing."
Roughly, feeling a tinge of guilt and responsibility over the accidental strength discovery, Tucker spoke. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine. But, uh, you don't really look like you're doing—"
"I don't need you," Tucker spat out. "Who I need is gone. Don't you worry about me."
Then turned on heel and stormed down the hallway. No one blocked his path. No one tried to stop him. In fact, any who'd trickled back out of the classrooms from hiding skittered quickly out of his way.
Tucker was a kid on a mission. Not much time devoted to schoolwork. All his free time running around town. Finding out he could live on less sleep. Sneaking into the Fenton's basement, figuring out the tech and devices, trying to figure a way out past the lock. Sometimes talking to Jazz about what her parents were up to. Ducking out when she'd softly ask about him. Questioning any ghost he came across. Asking about how they got here. About the Ghost Zone. If they knew Danny or Sam.
Through the Fenton Portal. Natural portals were infrequent, never knowing where and hard for even ghosts to work around. Ghost Zone was vast. They didn't know it all. Vast and large and full of doors for lairs and floating places and going in every direction forever it seemed. None knew of any Danny or Sam. Name or pictures he flashed at them.
On and on and on and nothing, nothing, nothing!
There was a growing anger and desperation the more time that went by, ready to bite off anyone's head who rubbed him the wrong way.
Tucker didn't care.
He was going to find them.
He was going to get his best friends back.
He was going to be able to hang out with them again.
He was going to see Danny's embarrassed face about his family.
He was going to tease and probably get threatened and smacked by Sam in teasing her about her crush on Danny.
He was going to get his best friends back.
Tucker could fly.
Danny would love this.
His friend should be the one flying.
They could be flying through the air together.
Danny. Just a little higher, a little closer to the sky and space he so loved.