Danny screamed into the void. It screamed back, quite literally, ectoplasm and pseudo-emotional loci echoing the sound and feelings back at him. The tree next to him was stripped of leaves, but regrew them even before Danny dropped to his knees, gasping.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He curled in on himself, hands grasping at the purple-gray rocks that made up the floating island.

As a ghost, he didn't need to breathe. Shouldn't need to breathe. He'd been to space with no oxygen. He shouldn't be out of breath, ever.

Iron and salt coated the back of his tongue and his body shook. His rings flickered in and out. He tasted citrus and copper. He spit, and his saliva was speckled with green and red. Gross.

At least he hadn't transformed this time. That was good. Keeping a secret identity didn't just keep him from being arrested, it kept him from being horribly experimented on by the government. Or his parents. Or random 'ghost hunters.' Or alien enthusiasts. Man, those guys were not picky. Something people should have already figured out from their obsession with 'probing.'

He pushed himself up to sit on his heels.

Having his strongest attack wipe him out like this really wasn't ideal. Yeah, it was a last-ditch thing, not something he was going to pull out for just anyone, but what if it didn't work? What if he went all in, and his opponent still had fight left, after he'd run out?

He'd die, that's what.

Since he wasn't an idiot, no matter what his grades said, and he didn't actually have a death wish, no matter what kind of jokes he made, he was practicing. Because practice made perfect, or at least better, and with the way the ghosts coming through the portal were getting stronger and nastier…

He shook himself. He'd probably be okay to try again in an hour or so, if he wanted to go the endurance route. Repeated use should make it easier, right? That was how things worked. Or he'd be able to fly home.

He was highly tempted to fly home.

"Wow, babypop, that sounded pretty wretched."

Danny jumped and overbalanced, finally getting around to face Ember while crouched on the ground. It was his luck to run into an enemy while practicing a skill that incapacitated him in an effort to not get incapacitated in front of an enemy.

Ember, for her part, looked unconcerned. She blew a bubble in the neon pink gum she was chewing, and popped it.

"You're gonna wreck your voice if you keep up like that, you know?"

"What?" rasped Danny.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to wreck your voice. You'll wind up sounding like a fifty-year-old lifelong smoker before you're twenty if you keep that up."

"Gee, thanks."

"Permanently, I mean, rather than this temporary bit you have going on here." She traced a finger over him. "Have you never heard of vocal warm ups? Or maybe just not screaming at the top of your lungs? It's godawful to listen to."

"Well, sorry to disturb you, but that's how my power happens to work," said Danny, angrily, wincing at how his voice cracked.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Ember rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You don't know squat, do you?"

"H-hey!"

"It's so painful listening to you. It makes me want to put holes in my eardrums." She flicked her fingers, and a tongue of blue fire appeared between them briefly before dissolving into a small, paper card, which she held out to Danny. "Look, when you're done feeling like you just gargled sandpaper, come look me up. Believe it or not, I do know my way around voice based powers. And how to scream without destroying your vocal cords."

Danny stared at her, uncomprehending.

"It's a calling card, dweeb. Medieval, I know, but there aren't exactly phones or road maps around here. Not safe ones, anyway."

"A what?"

"God, you're a loser. A calling card. It'll show you where to find me, moron. Have you never been invited anywhere?"

"Not in the Ghost Zone," said Danny, before grimacing and rubbing his throat.

"I almost feel sorry for you, but honestly I can't blame them. You kinda suck. Try honey."

"Wha?"

"Honey. Like from bees. You have heard of bees, right?"

"I've heard of bees."

"Good for you, babypop," said Ember, in a falsely sweet voice. She took her gum out of her mouth and threw it at him. "Later!"

.

Jazz attacked his hair with brutal efficiency.

"She said all that, and then stuck ghost gum in your hair?"

"To be fair, to her it's just gum," said Danny. "I'm just hoping it doesn't gain sentience. Or, you know, eat all my hair. How much do you think you'll have to cut off?"

"Uh," said Jazz. "Still working on that."

"I mean," said Danny, as Jazz tugged on his hair, "she seemed sincere. As sincere as Ember ever is, anyway. She could've wasted me by herself just then, too."

"I suppose that's true. It seems a bit… confrontational, though."

"Yeah, maybe. But not in terms of, like, other ghosts, if that makes sense?"

The scissors went snik snik near his ear. "Uh huh. In that context, sure," said Jazz. "But I'm not entirely sure it's smart to judge ghosts by a completely different behavioral scale than humans. If someone from Casper High walked up to you and treated you like that, then gave you an invitation to their house, would you go?"

"Yeah," said Danny.

"Really?"

"I mean, I have done that. I went to Dash's party, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, you did," said Jazz. "But didn't they also mercilessly mock and demean you?"

"Well," said Danny. "Yes. Yes they did."

Jazz sighed. "You're going to go anyway, aren't you?"

"Yep. I mean, hey, worst case scenario is that we fight each other, and we do that every other week, anyway. Right?"

"I guess," said Jazz. She put down the scissors and Danny heard something drop into the trash bin next to them.

"Oh, are you done? Thanks for–" Danny ran a hand over his hair. What was left of it. He brought his other hand up to check what he was feeling. "Jazz."

"Okay, before you get mad, I did tell you that I'd never cut anyone's hair before and you had a lot of gum in it."

"It's gone Jazz!"

"It'll grow back! Our family doesn't have a history of male pattern baldness!"

"I have school tomorrow!"

"You can wear a hat!"

"Not all day I can't!"

"What are you kids– Oh my," said Maddie. She came fully into the room. "Oh dear."

Danny put his face in his hands.

.

"It isn't that funny!" complained Danny. "You can stand up now. You don't even need to breathe!"

Ember did not straighten up. In fact, she pulled her feet off the ground so she could rotate in the air, laughing. Gradually, she drifted to the center of the stage that made up the majority of her lair.

"Your hair. It's even better than I imagined! Serves you right for doing it to me! Ha!"

"You did that on purpose?"

"You were there when I threw the gum, babypop."

Danny huffed. "I'm going home. I don't have to deal with this."

Ember grabbed his shoulder. "No, you're not. I'm a ghost of my word, and you really do have atrocious screaming technique, even if you do have a great set of pipes."

Danny was dubious, but he stopped.

"Great," said Ember, "we can get you started on some warm ups."

.

"You've been doing the warm ups every day?"

"Every day," confirmed Danny.

"Alright," said Ember. "Let's hear them. Then you can do one of your screamy things."

"It's called the Ghostly Wail."

"That's so lame."

.

"Here, see if you can sing this," said Ember, shoving a sheet of paper at Danny.

He looked down at it. "Uh," he said, "I can't read this."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I mean, there aren't actually any words here. Just notes."

"You can't read music?" asked Ember, in disbelief.

"Believe it or not, fighting ghosts all the time kind of precludes me from being in band or choir. Or anything extracurricular, for that matter."

"Precludes. You steal that word from your sister?"

"A vocabulary test, actually."

"God, you're hopeless." She materialized her guitar. "Sing along with me, loser." She strummed a chord.

"You know, I'm starting to detect an ulterior motive at play here."

"Shut up and sing."

.

"I'm not here to learn guitar," said Danny.

"Either learn it, or you can say goodbye to my help. You've been able to do your thing without collapsing, right?"

"I guess," said Danny, a bit sulkily. He had always wanted to learn to play an instrument. It was just the method…

"So, hold the neck like this. No, not like that. You'll put a nasty crick in your neck. You still have all those stupid little bones."

.

"What's going on?" asked Danny. There were a lot more ghosts in Ember's lair than there usually were, swarming over the stage and the seating in front of it.

"Oh, good, you're here. You're backup vocals and guitar."

"I'm what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," said Ember. "I know you aren't deaf. Speaking of, earplugs are in that jar over there." She pointed.

"So," said Danny, "this is the ulterior motive."

"Well, yeah, dipstick. What do you think we were practicing for?"

.

"I hate you," said Danny, hoarsely.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Ember threw a bottle of water at him. "We have another gig on Tuesday, one o'clock."

"I have school. And I'm not part of your band."

"Quit your school, join my ghost band."

"... No."

"Alright, Saturday, then."

.

Danny stood on a lonely island in the Ghost Zone. The tree next to him flexed its leaves.

He took a deep breath, and wailed.

When he was done, he was still on his feet.

"See? I told you it'd pay off," said Ember. "Now, this is our playbill for our next gig."

"I'm still not in your band." His throat was a little sore, but it was nothing as compared to what he'd dealt with before Ember's lessons.

"It's cute how you still think that, babypop. Anyway…"