"You look like the Burger King."
Danny frowned at his painting. It was abstract, to say the least. "It's called a disguise. I can't take it off, so I've gotta make it look like something else when I'm not… Y'know."
"I bet I could get it off," Wes said, leaning around his easel.
"Doesn't come off unless you dethrone me," Danny said distractedly, trying to mix the perfect shade of blue. "And then die."
Wesley Weston glanced at the analog clock above the door. Still an hour left of detention. "Okay, but not like, completely. You like, found a loophole or something."
Danny stared at the model for their mini art session. Dubstep still pumped through their headphones, fully audible to the two students. "Uhh, nope." He made a few hesitant brushstrokes with a light blue. "No loophole. Gotta be a hundred percent dead."
Wes wrinkled his nose and made some quick movements with his brush. "I have seven pieces of solid evidence of both humans and ghosts referring to you as a halfa; the implication being that you are half dead ghost and half living human. I've told you this."
Danny put his paintbrush down and leaned around his painting with a wide grin. "Dude, you just won me twenty bucks. Sam was sure that you'd figured it out already."
He frowned. "I have," he insisted.
"No no no, not the halfa thing. You had that pretty well mapped out." He squinted at the model and made repeated painting motions with his hand as if mentally plotting his next move. "Remember when I went on vacation? Weird time for it, right? Mid-November?"
Wes struggled to mix his paint into a convincing skin tone. "Look, if you're trying to tell me you died over vacation, I'm not going to believe you. You're right here, in human form. As you have been every day since you came back. Full ghosts can't disguise themselves as humans that convincingly. I mean look at Ember! I saw through her in a heartbeat."
Danny grimaced. "Uh yeah, no; some ghosts can be pretty hard to distinguish from humans. Remember that wacky counselor from Spirit Week?"
"Now you're just messing with me," Wes said, shaking his head.
"For once? Not at all. King's honor." He held his hand to his chest, displaying the rubber band wrapped multiple times around his finger.
Wes stared at him. He glanced at the model, who'd closed their eyes as they subtly bopped to their tunes. He walked over to Danny.
Danny held his wrist out.
Wes slid his fingers into place to take his pulse. Danny always had a pulse in human form. He'd proved that long ago.
Only. It was missing. He frowned and put his fingers to the side of Danny's neck.
Danny's expression flickered between a smug smile and a somber look.
His eyes widened and he pressed harder.
Danny frowned at him, but let him stay there for a few seconds. "Dude, chill." He pulled Wes' hand off and pressed it between his own. "Pretty cold, yeah?"
Wes took a deep breath, staring down at their hands. "I—I believe you," he said hoarsely.
"So that's why I can be Ghost King now. I died—the rest of the way anyway—but like, it was pretty clear that I would still be around, so we went and had a private funeral for my body. It was extremely weird, but it was better than doing nothing. And it wasn't as sad because like, hey! I'm still here! Just different! But yeah it was pretty awkward."
Wes tried to breathe evenly, but his breath caught in a sob.
Danny snapped to attention. "Wes?"
He pulled his hand away and looked at some distant point over Danny's shoulder. "Was—did—" He swallowed. "I didn't think—I never thought—did it ha-happen because someone believed m-me? I wasn't thinking—there are a lot of g-ghost hunters—and-and your parents! Oh god, your parents? I'm—I—and those Guys in White-! What—what—did they-?"
Danny hugged him tight.
Wes shivered. "If—if it was because of me, I—I'm so sorry, I don't—I don't know what I can say—"
"It wasn't you," Danny interrupted. "It had nothing to do with you. I promise." He tilted his head against Wes'. "I didn't mean to break it like that; I didn't think you'd—"
Wes hugged him back aggressively. "Didn't think I'd care if my friend died!? You lost your—" His breath hitched and he sniffled. "—your life! I get that you're still here and still you, but that's a big deal! You lost the opportunities—"
Danny sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm not saying it didn't like, suck, a lot, I'm just—It's okay. It's gonna continue to be okay."
"I'm sorry," Wes whispered.
"It had nothing to do with you," Danny said firmly.
"King's… honor?"
"King's honor."
Wes let out a long sigh of relief.
"Tuck Everlasting!" the model exclaimed. "I close my eyes for one minute and you two go from sniping each other across the room to pressing together like seniors at prom!"
Wes jumped and tried to wiggle out of Danny's arms, but he just laughed and held him tighter.
"Nah, we just made up from our disagreement earlier Mr. Lancer. That's what putting us in detention together with a relaxing activity was for, right?" He gave Wes one last squeeze and let him go.
He scratched his head and climbed off the desk he'd been sitting on. "I guess so. I've just never seen it work outside of movies."
Wes stumbled over to his easel to put away his paints. "You mean Breakfast Club?"
Danny tilted his head. "Am I the nerd?"
"You're the weird girl," Wes replied. He looked up from his painting. "Which… makes me… the jock?"
Danny shrugged and sighed at his painting. He looked sheepishly up at Mr. Lancer. "It's not exactly the Mona Lisa, but…" He and Wes turned their paintings simultaneously.
His eyes widened. "The Portrait of Doran Gray!" he gasped. "These are incredible!"
Wes made a face. "You think so?"
"Of course! In fact, for doing such a great job, I'm dismissing you from detention early!"
Was and Danny fist-pumped. "Yes!"
Wes grabbed his stuff and shot through the door.
Danny was at his heels, but stopped at the doorframe and looked back. "For the record, you're nothing like that awful principal guy in the movie. You're like, pretty cool." He waved and dashed off.
Mr. Lancer stood proudly, beaming. "I'm cool!" he said to the empty room. "All my studying has finally paid off."