Here come the chaotic update times. I am so sorry, guys.

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Chapter 216: per iudices

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So. Danny was now teaching his class. And Mr. Lancer. And several other unoccupied humans from Amity Park and Harmony.

This wasn't really what he was planning on doing today when he woke up this morning. Not that he was complaining, exactly, he was just sort of… surprised. Wrong footed. Caught off guard. Unbalanced.

He was also really bad at teaching. If this was what it was like when everyone involved had come up to him wanting to learn, he didn't want to imagine how it must feel when all the students were trapped in a classroom, trying to escape, even if it was only in their minds. Mr. Lancer must be some kind of saint. Or crazy. Or both.

Speaking of Mr. Lancer, he looked like he was enjoying this, despite his limited liminality and the fact that he was unlikely to develop any powers in the near future. Suspicious.

Danny took half a second to assess Mr. Lancer's sanguine smile before his attention was demanded by Paulina. Again. He was being torn between her, Mikey.

He wondered how much longer he should, or even could, keep this up. Sure, he could fight ghosts all day, but this was different.

Also, he wasn't making progress with anyone but Valerie.

"Hey, Danny!" said Mikey. "Do my fingers look transparent to you?"

Danny examined Mikey's fingers.

"No," he said, honestly.

Mikey deflated.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, you can't really force this," he said, trying to pitch his voice to reach everyone on the lawn. "Once you start to do stuff, once you start to actually access ghost powers, I can help, but I mean," he gestured, helplessly, "either it's something your body can do or it isn't. Like, flexing that one muscle in your ear to make it rumble. I can try and tell you how it feels, but… I'm not really the best for that, either. I'm way more liminal than you guys. My biggest problem was turning my powers off, not turning them on."

It was true. He could talk about cores and how to reach for them until the Ghost Zone's sky turned pastel pink, but his classmates barely had cores. Valerie's was the strongest, and she was supported by her suit, which had made their few minutes of one-on-one instruction interesting.

Jazz stood up. "I think maybe we should take a break. We've all been at this for at least an hour, right?" Her eyes scanned the crowd until she found Clockwork. "Right?"

Clockwork shrugged.

"So," she clapped her hands. "Homework. Try to practice what Danny showed you today. Reaching into yourself, trying to connect with the ectoplasm around you—"

"Yeah!" interjected Danny. "Think about when I was teaching you guys to go through walls. The feeling is sort of similar? Either way, you're applying your will to ectoplasm."

A wave of complaints washed over him, several from the adults. Then Mr. Lancer stood up, and threatened to try and teach English, since everyone was so eager to learn.

That got rid of the crowd in a hurry.

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"He's getting bigger," whispered Danny, holding the core in his hands. He had removed his clone brother from the jar, and the thick layer of ectoplasm covering him felt odd against his gloved hands.

"Soon," said Clockwork.

"Soon what?"

"The jury selection will be over."

Danny pressed his lips together.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" asked Ellie.

"A bit," said Danny.

"So, not at all, then," said Jazz.

Danny scowled.

"Hey, I know all about your homework habits. I know what 'a bit' means to you."

"Yeah, yeah," said Danny. "I just… I won't be able to lie. No one will be able to lie. I don't—" He sighed. "I know this is going to be bad." His eyes briefly flicked to the other ghosts in the room, and he hoped Jazz got his message. "I don't want to think about it. I've done what I can."

Jazz blinked. "That's fair, I guess."

"If there's something you want to hide," said Sojourn, "perhaps we can help. We have been around for a while."

Danny shook his head. The Ancients had been understanding, but he didn't think that understanding would extend to a Crime of Sacrilege.

"I just want to focus on these guys right now," he said.

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"Hi," said Connie, waving at the other jury members and wondering how she had gotten herself into this position.

Less than half of them were human.

(Was that her down-the-street neighbor? The one who had died last year? Who always had holiday decorations in front of her house?)

"Hello," said one of the ghosts (who definitely was the dead neighbor), "I think you're our last member. Shall we all introduce ourselves?"

"Might as well," said a human man. "Does anyone know if we have to elect a foreperson, or what?"

"A what?" asked a ghost. A very on fire ghost. Nothing around him seemed to be burning, but still.

"A foreperson," said the human man. "Our leader, who directs discussion and announces our decisions to the judge."

"No one mentioned anything about that," said another ghost tentatively. This ghost was a dragon. Just. An entire Eastern dragon. Draped over an office chair. "But it sounds like a good idea."

Connie tried not to stare.

(Had this ghost also been human, once? It was hard to believe.)

"We don't need a leader," argued an elderly green-skinned woman wearing an apron. "We just need to say what we think and eat a good lunch."

(Wait. Was that the Lunch Lady? The ghost that fought by turning herself into a giant meat monster?)

"We still need to introduce ourselves," said an even more elderly brown-skinned woman. "I think that should come before we start bicker. You may call me Mrs. Ormolu, and I am from Harmony."

"I'm Frida, I'm from Germany," said a blonde woman a few years older than Connie. "I am also from Harmony. I have two sweet little children. Twins, you know? Just little babies. But I heard the call for volunteers, and I could not say no! We are so very lucky to have found Harmony. It will be such a nice place for the twins to grow up in. Very friendly people." She smiled. "I miss Germany, but I do not regret!"

"Are your children staying with your husband?" asked the dragon ghost, politely.

"Ah, yes, with him and my sister. We drew straws to see who would go." Another brilliant smile.

"It's good that you're so close to your family," said the dragon, sounding envious. The dragon sighed, exhaling a series of fluffy-looking gray clouds that immediately began to rain on the floor. "You may call me Ryu. I had three children as a human, but they're all gone now." Another sigh.

"My name is Mrs. Holiday," said the deceased down-the-street neighbor. "I'm from Amity Park. My children still live there, but they're all grown up."

(Connie wasn't always great with names, but she was pretty sure that had not been her neighbor's name before.)

(She decided not to mention it.)

"I," said the green-skinned ghost, "am the LUNCH LADY! And my extremely powerful daughter is at home with her father, the mighty Box Ghost, where she is eating three square meals a day."

(Okay. So. That was the meat monster ghost. Cool. Cool. Connie could totally deal with that. And when she got home, she'd be writing an article that was 99% hysterical rant. Yep.)

"I'm Eric Marsh," said the man who had first asked about a foreperson. "I live in Amity Park. My kid is actually here. That's why I came. I'm going to be honest, I thought I'd be disqualified because he's one of the witnesses."

"No one cares about that," said the on-fire ghost. "All of us were going to have personal stake in this from the beginning, just because of who's involved."

"Is Phantom really that important here?"

"He really is," said the ghost.

Mrs. Ormolu cleared her throat. "Introductions, please."

The flames wreathing the ghost briefly flickered higher. "Anyway, I'm Firelight, the father of flames. I have two children. Born of my spirit."

The ghosts all made sounds of wonder.

"That must have been difficult," said Ryu. "You have a partner?"

"Of course."

"Next, please," said Mrs. Ormolu.

A relatively normal looking ghost spoke up next. "I am the Director. Of plays. My children came to me, after our common interest." He twitched the hem of his suit.

"Er, I'm Tristan. Tristan Charry. I live in Harmony, with these guys. My son's back in Harmony, but I keep half-expecting him and his friends to pop up around the corner. They like to explore. Get into places they aren't supposed to. Ha." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sounds exciting," said Mrs. Holiday.

"It isn't," said a gray-skinned woman with empty eyes. "I am Lacuna. I also reside in Harmony."

"Aren't you going to talk about your kids?" asked Tristan.

"No," said Lacuna.

"I'm the Dairy King!" said the last ghost. He produced a plate of small, glowing cheeses from behind his back. "I brought snacks. The muenster cheese is beautiful this year, and I've got a bit of brie."

"Oh," said Connie. "Thanks."

"That is not a balanced meal!" said the Lunch Lady. "Where's the meat? Where are the vegetables? Where are the options for lactose intolerant students?"

"We're not students," said the Director, hesitantly.

"Irrelevant!"

Mrs. Ormolu rapped on the table with her knuckles. "Focus, please. We still have one more introduction."

"Uh, right. I'm Connie Jones. I'm a writer for Genius Magazine in Amity Park. I have a daughter."

"Excellent!" said the Lunch Lady. "Now our fight can continue."

"Wait, no—"

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"The jury got into a fistfight," repeated Danny. "Over cheese."

"It was more than a fistfight," said Hemlock, "and they did set the room on fire, but, yes. Essentially."

Tucker burst out laughing. He and Danny had been talking to the Foleys. Danny was trying hard to stay involved in everything his people were doing. Including being bored in giant, empty-but-crowded halls.

(Maybe he could convince someone to bring in some entertainment. Books. Games. That travelling vaudeville show he'd heard about but never seen.)

"Will the trial be delayed?" asked Danny. He'd already psyched himself up so much. He'd hate for the preparation to go to waste.

"Oh, no. Not by any more than an hour at most. These things are pretty common."

"What?" said Mr. Foley, horrified. "It's common for jurors to set rooms on fire?"

"Well, yes," said Hemlock. "Usually, when we have a jury, they get into a fight at least once. Hopefully, they've gotten it out of their system, and we can have a peaceful trial moving forward."

"But," said Mr. Foley, "about cheese?"

"The main instigators both had food-related Obsessions," said Hemlock, placidly, as if that explained everything.

Which it did.

Mr. Foley still had that shocked look on his face, though.

"Please tell me the Lunch Lady isn't on the jury," said Danny.

"She is."

Danny groaned. "I thought she was pregnant!"

"Not for weeks. I understand she's been helping with the nutritional needs of your humans."

Danny groaned even more loudly and threw his head backwards. "I meant to send them a card! Do you think it's too late?" Something else occurred to him. "What was the Box Ghost doing out of his lair if Lunch Lady is here and they have a newborn?"

"I believe the Lunch Lady was commuting. She will have to stop now that she's on the jury, unfortunately. I was once blessed with children myself, three fine sons. I know how difficult it is to be away from them."

"I don't think it's too late," said Tucker, patting Danny on the shoulder.

"I talked to the Box Ghost, and I didn't even ask. I'm a terrible…" He couldn't think up an adequate word to describe the relationship he had with the Box Ghost. Frenemies didn't cut it. More than a dozen languages, and his vocabulary was still useless. Instead, he waved his hands.

"You're not a terrible," Tucker waved his hands in a mirror of Danny. "I'm sure they'll understand."

"I guess," said Danny. "Will I even be able to talk to Lunch Lady, now that she's a juror?"

"No, unfortunately," said Hemlock.

Danny rubbed his eyes. "Have the prosecutors announced their first witness, yet?" The Librans were taking the role of prosecutors. If Danny recalled correctly, the name of the case manager, the head prosecutor, was Astraea.

But he couldn't be sure. He'd had to shove too many names into his head these past few days.

"Yes," said Hemlock. "They intend to call Technus."