Chapter Twenty-Two: Unlucky Encounters

A few days later, Wes was sitting in class, and Danny had left a few minutes earlier, so that meant a ghost attack was or would be happening. Sam and Tucker didn't seem worried, so it was probably just a regular job.

Wes still couldn't get over what had happened a few days ago. After everything, Danny had phased the gum out of hair, and even though he'd pointed it out to everyone that the only way he could've got the gum out was a haircut, nobody listened, as usual! This was concrete evidence, a physical impossibility! It was just too frustrating!

As he lost himself to his thoughts, Wes was torn back into the real world by the sound of a window being smashed. It wasn't in his classroom for once, but probably one next door judging by the volume of the noise.

"Ghost attack," announced the teacher dully. Ghosts attacks were daily, after all. "It sounded close so we'll have to evacuate."

As his class exited the room, Wes tried to stay near Sam and Tucker to possibly find out what was happening, but he was swiftly separated from Danny's two friends. As they quickly scattered down the hallway, Wes could see in the distance that Danny was fighting the Lunch Lady.

"Eat this!" He screamed at the Lunch Lady, putting his hands together to throw an extra charged ectoblast, launching the Lunch Lady's now burning meat form into the wall of lockers. Oh shit. That was his locker!

Fortunately for Danny, the Lunch Lady was now incapacitated and easy to capture. Unfortunately for Wes and all his locker neighbors, all of his belongings inside his locker were completely trashed. After the events of the fight, Wes learned that three of his textbooks were rendered forever unusable, his camera would probably need a repair or two, and that his gym clothes had been burnt to a crisp. If his gym socks smelled bad normally, they were worse when it was cooked with ghost meat.

After tripping over his own feet a total of twelve times when he walked from his science class to gym class, Wes happened to find Star single-highhandedly struggling to push a full-sized popcorn machine up the ramp to the gym. Most other people had already abandoned the hallways to go to class, so there wasn't anyone else nearby to help her. Wes hesitated, because he wanted to help her but he also didn't want to be on her radar, because otherwise the fate of rejection became more real. But, before Wes knew what he was doing, he stepped forward.

"Do you need some help?" he asked. Star jumped, and almost let go of the grip she had on the machine. She regained herself, but still wavered.

"Oh," she said, rolling her eyes, "it's you. Resident crazy dude."

Wes blushed and opted to look at his feet. "Yep, uh – that's me," he paused. It'd be easier to walk away now and not make an awkward mess of himself. But having a crush is never easy, is it? "I... I know I have a reputation and stuff, but you're clearly struggling, and uh... Can I give you a hand?"

Star bit her lip, obviously contemplating whether or not to accept his offer. Sure, she thought the dude was nuts, but he was on the basketball team so he probably had enough muscle to actually help her. She finally looked back at Wes, resolving her dilemma. "Fine. You can help me. Just... don't dent the machine. Lancer'll kill me for damaging school property."

Wes got on the opposite side of the popcorn machine and started to pull it up the ramp. With his help, the two of them managed to get it up onto the next floor.

"Thanks," Star breathed, "I guess that saved me a few more minutes of pushing it alone."

"So what's with the popcorn machine anyway?" he asked. "Where are you taking it?"

"Oh," Star said, "it's for the Casper Cheerleading Committee Fundraiser tonight. Basketball homecoming's coming up, after all. We're doing a public showing of the movie in the gym. The admission is free, but the real cash is from the concessions, hence the popcorn machine. I had to haul it out all the way from the Football stadium in the freezing cold. It sucked."

"That sounds awful," Wes said, solemnly. "I guess it's a good thing I helped pushing up the steep ramp, I guess."

"Yeah," she nodded. "So, uh, don't you have to be getting to class? The tardy bell rung two minutes ago."

"Oh," Wes said, realization smacking him in the face. "I do – shit! It was, uh, good talking to y-" he turned around, only to walk straight into the popcorn machine. The force of Wes's body smacking into it, sent the machine toppling. It rocked back and forth for a few terrifying seconds, before tipping straight over, and falling on Wes. Thankfully, it only landed on Wes's left arm, but when the popcorn machine hit the floor, all of the uncooked corn kernels spilled out. Slightly disoriented, Wes found himself buried under a pile of corn kernels and the machine pressing down on his arm.

Star squeaked, "Ah! Are you alright?"

Well, thought Wes, at least she's concerned about me.

"I think I will be if I can get this machine off of me," he answered, trying to wriggle free.

"I – I'll lift it off of you," Star said timidly, attempting to heft the popcorn machine from the floor. And with amazing strength for a petite fifteen year old girl, she managed to lift the machine off of him. (Wes supposed that since it was partially broken, it was probably lighter than it was when they were pushing it.)

Star held out of her hand, Wes accepted it, and she pulled him up from the pile of corn kernels. Oh my god oh my god she's actually touching my hand.

"Do you need to go to the nurse?" she asked. Wes flexed his arm, it was definitely sore, but nothing was broken so there wasn't really a point to go to the nurse.

"No," he answered, "it hurts a little, but I'll just tough it out."

"How admirable," she said dryly. "But seriously, if you need to go to the nurse, I'll walk with you-"

"It's fine, Star," he reassured. He swatted away any kernels that stuck to his clothes, "I need to go to gym now, so... I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Star said quietly, as Wes walked away.

It only occurred to him later that she probably thought he was an asshole because he left her with his mess to clean up and a broken popcorn machine.

"Weston!" Tetslaff demanded, "Why are you late?!"

"I was helping Star Evans move a popcorn machine and it fell on me," he said dully.

Dash snorted, "Why didn't you just go intangible, Phantom?"

"I'm not-"

"Enough comments, Mr. Baxter," Testslaff barked before turning to Wes. "You go to the locker room and go dress out. We're doing aerobic exercises today."

Wes obliged, and started walking towards the locker room when a memory surfaced in his brain... The ghost attack that destroyed everything in his locker, including his gym clothes. Great. Just great. "Um, Coach Tetslaff, a ghost burned my gym clothes."

"Sure," the woman grumbled, "using a ghost as an excuse that you forgot your clothes today. Twenty points off of your participation grade today."

"Wha-? I didn't-"

"Just join the rest of the class, Weston. You can do the activity in your regular clothes."

"Fine," he snapped.

The class started as usual, Tetslaff screaming at everyone at the top of her lungs. It was a wonder that she was still able to speak considering how much she yelled. As they started the aerobic exercises, they had to begin by pulling their legs behind them with their hands. However, when Wes pulled his leg up, a few tiny pinprick noises erupted on the surface of the floor. It was like the muted sound of hail smacking against a tin roof. Utterly confused, when Wes looked down, there was a circle of corn kernels surrounding where he was standing. What the...?

The kernels were coming from him, he realized. Or, his clothing at least. Some of the corn kernels must've gotten stuck in the cuffs of his pants, and now they were falling out and – oh God, everyone in the class was staring at him in curious amusement.

"Is – is there corn coming from your pants, Weston?" Lester snorted.

"Uh... no," Wes muttered feverishly.

"Oh my God," Dash breathed, "Wes Phantom is some sort of corn monster!"

"He's a corn ghost!" a brown-haired girl exclaimed.

And that's the story of how Wes earned the nickname 'Corn Ghost' for the next three months.

If the day wasn't bad enough for Wes, his misfortune reached its peak when he got too close to a few utility workers repairing a part of the school that had been damaged a few days previous due to a large ghost attack. Already cradling a sore arm, picking corn kernels out of his clothing, had a ruined locker, shredded textbooks, burnt clothing, a broken camera, had tripped at least three dozen times today, added to his tarnished chance of having a relationship with Star, and had been humiliated in front of his entire gym class (which was soon to spread to the rest of the school), Wes had thought the shit had hit the fan a long time ago. Well, apparently, he was wrong.

School had just let out for the day, so Wes let his guard down. It made sense, school was the root of all of his problems today, so since school hours were over, he was Scot-free.

Wes was walking underneath the area of the school where they were finishing the construction. It wasn't really an odd sight since Casper High had to bring in a construction team at least once every two weeks, if not more often. He wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings until he heard someone above him shout, "Shit!" And then everything went black.

He didn't pass out or anything like that. A bucket of black paint, literally fell directly on top of Wes's head. He was blind to the entire world, and could hear voices under the sound of the paint gurgling in his ears. The paint was sticking to his face and hair and he could already feel it dripping down on all of his clothes. Wes tried to pull the bucket off of his head by himself, only to loose balance and crash to the ground beneath him.

At that point, he might've started to pass out for real if someone hadn't carefully taken the bucket off of his head and helped him into a sitting position on the street curb. It was one of the construction workers.

"-don't have a concussion, kid? Kid?"

"Huh?" Wes managed to omit. His ears were slightly ringing, but other than that he had complete sensory lucidity.

"I said," the burly man repeated, "are you sure that you don't have a concussion, kid?"

"I don't think I do..." Wes said. His entire head was doused in black paint – he couldn't see it, but he could feel it. It was in his hair, on his face, on his clothes, on his hands, in his nails, everywhere.

"I – I'm sorry," the man apologized. "The bucket was my fault. I was climbing up the ladder with it, and somehow it just slipped right outta my hands. I'll help you clean yourself up," he offered.

Wes could imagine how stupid he looked right now (he sure felt stupid), sitting on the edge of the curb, paint dripping off of his straggly form. But, this man was on the clock right now, getting paid for his job, and was offering to help him clean up. Normally Wes would've refused to save the man the trouble, but after having such an excruciatingly long, miserable day, Wes felt like he needed the help. "Alright."

Something weird was going on around Wes. Apparently ever since that morning, he'd been plagued with tremendous amounts of bad luck. Sam and Tucker had looked to him for an explanation, but he was just as in the dark. But... Danny did have a suspicion. A suspicion that didn't really make any sense.

After school, he transformed and found Wes walking near the construction, only to have his ghost sense go off... bingo! Danny watched in horror as Shadow quickly entered the scene, pondering his options, and maliciously knocking a can of black paint directly onto Wes. Danny tried to intervene, but he wasn't able to fly fast enough to catch the can of paint from hitting Wes's head. He cringed as the sound of metal and liquid hitting Wes's skull resounded throughout the area.

Danny turned towards the opposing Shadow and made a glowing, green fist.

"What was that for?" he asked Shadow. It was weird to see the shade without Johnny, but Danny knew that he was probably still recuperating from the attack a few days ago. But that didn't explain why Shadow was out wreaking havoc on his own, nevertheless why he was targeting Wes!

Shadow made a few indecipherable hissing noises and flew backwards, attempting to evade Danny. He scowled, ready to pursue the bad-luck shade. After all, Danny's job was to protect all citizens of Amity Park, and while Wes was a pain to Danny sometimes, he clearly didn't deserve to be pushed through a bunch of bad luck.

Danny shot into the air, after Shadow, allowing his legs to blend into his spectral tail behind him. Shadow dove through around a corner, and into a nearby thicket of trees next to the school. Every once in a while, Shadow would graze a tree and cause a few branches to fall, so Danny kept having to phase in and out of intangibility to remain on the ghost's trail.

Finally, when they go back out to the street, Danny caught up with Shadow and grabbed his opponent by his barely corporeal shoulders. "Why were you targeting Wes?!" Danny demanded, summoning ectoenergy around his fist to disperse Shadow's form.

Shadow gave no reply, as Danny expected. Suddenly, Shadow caused a cluster of power-lines to fall down where Danny was hovering. Danny immediately let go of Shadow and dodged out of reflex, afraid that the electricity in the lines would fry him, even if he went intangible.

He looked up, and Shadow was flying away again, back towards FentonWorks, which meant that he intended to retreat back to the Ghost Zone... weird. Usually Danny had to force them to go back, but as soon as Danny came up to scare him off, Shadow avoided a fight at all costs. Maybe it was a weird thing Johnny had told him to do? Or maybe the Shadow had gone rogue and didn't want to get in trouble with his master?

To make sure he was really returning to the Ghost Zone, Danny flew home as quick as possible to find Shadow phasing into the house seconds before him. It was an unusual end for a fight, but Danny couldn't complain. As long as he knew that the ghost was not in Amity Park, and was not terrorizing humans.

In the back of his mind, Danny wondered if Wes was okay (because some of the corn stuff he'd been hearing about was harsh), but decided against going to check on him directly. If Wes even sensed him (and he'd been getting better at doing that), he'd be quick to push the blame for his misfortune onto Danny instead of the real culprit. Danny didn't want to create more of a mess today. And since Shadow was definitely gone, Wes wouldn't be plagued with any more bad luck – leaving him completely safe.

The man who helped Wes, Todd, helped him clean all of the paint off of his skin and lent him extra baggy clothes (that suspiciously smelled like sweat and wood shavings) to wear in lieu of his paint-soaked clothes. They weren't able to clean the black paint out of his hair at all, and from what they could tell, it didn't seem like it was coming out any time soon. With a depressive grumble, Wes told Todd goodbye and started heading off towards his apartment.

When Wes arrived home, it wasn't the relief he had longed for after such a hellish day. No, the universe still continued to torment him, because outside of his apartment building, was Vlad's big, shiny limousine. Feeling like sobbing at this point, Wes had to mentally prepare himself before he entered his own house, and face his father's maniacal boss.

Wes walked through to the front door, to see Vlad Masters sitting leisurely on the couch. As Vlad saw him, he immediately tensed up, compulsively clenching his fists. And then moments later, his gaze softened, and his body relaxed. He smiled sickeningly at Wes, "Wesley... I like what you've done with your hair. For a moment I thought you were Daniel Fenton instead."

Wes scowled. Just the mention of Danny's name sent tingles down his spine. And then it occurred to Wes that he hadn't seen Danny since that morning, when his bad luck streak began. No way... Could all of this be Danny's work? Wes deadpanned, of course it was Danny's fault! When did Danny not try to torment him? And now, Vlad fucking Masters was here, playing his last nerve like it was a guitar string. In a fit of irritation, Wes gave a child-like outcry and stormed out of the living room.

He ignored Walter's confused look as he entered the living room holding twin cups of tea. He ignored the glint of amusement in Vlad's eyes. He ignored the fact that he was walking away from his problems as he always did. He just wanted to sit at his computer desk and find something on the Internet to distract him like a video game. He hadn't played a good video game since the beginning of the school year.

But when Wes turned on his computer, an anonymous private message obscured the entire screen. It was a link to a video. A video of paint falling on his head. Someone must've been in the same area and uploaded it. He looked at the username and it was one of the annoying Freshman geeks. Just his luck.

Feeling like he was going to cry, for the second time that day, Wes slumped face-down on his bed ready to simply pass out. No more bad luck no more no more no more bad luck.

As Wes's consciousness withered into nothing, he heard his father's questionable voice from the living room... "-can't believe your 'archenemy' is a fifteen year old kid that goes to school with Wes. Do you know how messed up that is?"

Nope, Wes thought miserably, I'm just going to ignore that and fall asleep.

So, uhh, I kinda got the entire inspiration for the whole corn thing because the exact thing happened to me in the fifth grade. We were doing stretches in gym class after a field trip to this farm, and on that farm they had this sandbox full of corn kernels for kids to play in (it was actually really fun). Basically, the corn got in the cuffs in my jeans, and it all fell out in front of my entire fifth grade class. Absolutely humiliating.

Anyway, this will probably be my last update for the month of October, so I wish you all happy Halloweens.