Those are lion? I could eat one of those in one big-.

Please don't.

Scar Phantom and Danny Fenton (Villianess Times)

DPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDP

Leaving the dinning hall after KP that evening Danny looked west towards the trail leading back to his cabin and sighed. If he went back to the cabin, he was liable to run into Dash or Abigail or Tucker or Sam, none of whom he wanted to talk to just then, He was feeling angry, though he wasn't sure about what. He needed some time alone, time to think.

To the east was the Camp offices, which included the small Internet Room. Campers were allowed to send and receive E-mail during free-time there. Usually there was a line coming out of the room and a strict ten minute limit on the use of the half dozen terminals there. Tonight Danny couldn't see anyone hanging around the door. Maybe he could talk to someone about his problems - well, e-mail them. As he walked down the gravel trail towards the offices he knew who he would have to E-mail, the last person in the world he would want to confide anything to. No, wait: that would be his mom. No, wait, telling anything to his father would be even worse. Not only would the advice be bad but the whole world would know about it by weekend. The last person in the world he would want to confide in - after his mother and father - would be his sister, Jazz. She would continue to pick at his problems long after they ceased to be a problem, but she wouldn't tell their parents and, Danny reluctantly admitted, she was usually right.

There were only a couple other kids in the room. Danny signed in and was given the toggle to unlock the terminal. Opening the E-Mail program he was hardly surprised to find that he had no mail. He went straight to "Compose" and typed in Jazz's address.

"Jazz," he wrote, "I never thought I'd be doing this, but I need your help. I hope you're on-line because I really need some answers now. I wish I could IM you but they don't have IM on these computers."

He went on to write about all the things that had happened that day, about Abigail and Sam's anger at him, Tucker's infatuation with T'Keisha, the Camp Ghost and so on. It was twenty minutes later before he finally clicked on "send."

Since no one was waiting for the computer and hoping that Jazz might write back, Danny stayed on-line, switching from the mail program to the browser. He checked in on some of the space discussion groups he belonged to. There was a vigorous debate on methane versus hydrogen as a rocket fuel, but the technicalities of fuel density, energy density, boiling points and in-situ manufacture couldn't distract him from his problem. Well, the guy arguing for solid fuel over either liquids that did call for a comment...so for a few minutes Danny was happily a thousand miles away. A beep from his computer alerted him that he had mail. He hastily dumped what he had been writing and opened Jazz's letter.

"I had been hoping to hear from you, " her E-mail began. "You need to talk to your friends. — Not Sam and Tucker, they're all right. I mean Scar!!!!!!!!!"

Danny didn't usually traded E-mails with his sister so he wasn't sure if multiple exclamation marks was normal for her or a sign of real distress. He read on:

"Imagine my surprise to find her in my bedroom !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! last night, trying to tap dance to the soundtrack of Happy Feet."

The thought of a ten foot high, twenty foot long, scaly, lion-like monster trying to tap dance was a sight he wished he had seen. Or maybe not. Scar wasn't the kind of entity that liked being laughed at. She wasn't so much a friend of Danny's as a villainess who had not yet decided to kill him. "But when did she see 'Happy Feet?' " Danny wondered. Jazz continued:

"Believe it or not, she wants to have therapy sessions with me. She thought the talk we had when she was visiting a couple months ago had been very helpful. While I am flattered that she thinks so well of me, I'm not sure how to convince her that I feel very uncomfortable conducting a very intense psychological session with someone with six inch claws THAT I KNOW FOR A FACT CAN RIP THROUGH STEEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

This time Danny could tell Jazz's use of exclamation points was deliberate. She'd filled two lines with them.

"Perhaps you could persuade her to come as that nice little thirteen year avatar of hers, and through the front door!!!!!"

Since being turned onto a half-ghost a year ago during a freak lab accident Danny's life had been turned completely upside-down. He had gone from a lonely kid with only two real friends - Sam and Tucker - to someone well-known to a lot of people - mostly ghosts trying to kill him - but still it was a full and busy life. One with a lot of responsibilities. Danny realized that talking to Scar was something he would have to do. His sister was famously not hysterical. All these exclamation points indicated that if she was not hysterical now, was certainly experiencing something very similar to it. He didn't look forward to the conversation. Scar was exactly as frightening as Jazz described. The last time he had visited her, she had wanted to play "fetch" — with him as the stick!

But just as he was both Danny Fenton, human and Danny Phantom, ghost, Scar was both human and ectoplasmic monster. Her human avatar was a seemingly harmless thirteen year old girl, albeit, one with a ghastly scar across her face. She was apparently some kind of unholy, fantastically powerful clone experiment from the future sent back in time by accident. He didn't understand it all but as long as she stayed in the Ghost Zone he was happy to leave her be. But if she was going to visit the human world on a regular basis he had better convince her to do it as a human. He had come to see that as Danny Phantom that was his purpose.

Danny was about to wrote back to Jazz that the first task of any therapist was to set the terms and conditions of the sessions, including the use of steel-ripping claws, when it dawned on him that Scar, a creature who, according to her hints, had done more evil in her short life than any other villain in all time, was actually seeking help, trying to be a better person. Jazz had her work cut out for her, especially since she wasn't a trained psychiatrist, only a sixteen year old girl who read a lot. She didn't need him snapping cracks at her at the moment. The thought of his sister holding what could well be the fate of the world in her hands, was daunting.

Her letter continued:

"I'm glad Tucker's found a girlfriend there. But don't worry about him doing anything he'll regret. As I recall from my days as a camper, the mosquitos pretty much put a damper on anything beyond a bit of kissing. My advice to him is to not write down his experiences in a diary that some snot-nosed little brother will steal and blab to his parents!"

So she hadn't forgotten or forgiven him that.

"As for Sam, I've always considered her the most level-headed of your friends. So if she's not talking to you about something, I'm sure it is with good reason. And whatever it is, she'll be over it by the end of camp. — unless you've done something really stupid.

"Have you?"

"No." Danny thought to himself, then wondered just what Jazz might mean by "something really stupid?" Something like kissing Abigail? Or not kissing Sam? But Abigail had kissed him, not the other way around. Did that matter? When did girl get so hard to understand?

"You mention how this other girl kept kissing you today but I didn't hear you making any effort to resist."

"But I did, every time," Danny complained to himself

"You're worried that this might upset Sam but you're not resisting the temptation. You can stop her. You can just say 'No' to whatever she's trying to get you to do. All you have to do is just say 'No.'"

Like she ever turned down a boy kissing on her! Danny grumbled.

"I'm more concerned that she might find out."

Jazz meant about him being a half-ghost, a secret only she, Sam and Tucker shared. They never spoke of it openly because you never knew who might be reading your E-Mails.

"Sam will get over whatever mischief you're getting in to but don't let this other girl find out. That's important."

I sent all the stuff I could find out about this ghost to Tucker's PDA like he asked, but if he's too busy to read his PDA I'd better copy it to you.

There was a death at the camp exactly fifty years ago. A boy named Ben Stone. I couldn't find a police report or autopsy report on-line but there was a Wrongful Death lawsuit, which was settled out of court. The records were sealed but I was able to dig up some newspaper reports about the case. That reminds me, I had to subscribe to a number of archival services to find all these records. I figure you owe me about two hundred dollars..."

"What!" Danny ejaculated. To himself he continued, where am I going to find two hundred dollars? It would take all my allowance until I'm in college? And I'm not doing Jazz's chores either!

"According to the newspaper accounts Ben Stone disappeared on Friday the thirteenth, July, 1953. His body was found four days later in the lake. His head was cut off and never found. One report mentioned that he appeared to have been already dead when he was dumped into the lake, and speculated that his head was cut off to prevent identification."

That's stupid, Danny thought to himself. One boy goes missing at camp, when they find a body who else would they think it is?

"Another newspaper spoke to some of the kids at camp. They gave conflicting descriptions of Stone. Some kids, the counselors mostly, said they didn't really remember much about him, but other kids said he was a shy, lonely kid that got picked on a lot.

And the coroner was quoted as saying that he was unable to determine the cause of death because of the missing head. Only that there was no sign of trauma to the body.

That's all I've got, sadly. I tried asking Dad about full moons and anniversaries on ghosts but he started yammering on like he does and I think I fell asleep before he got to the good stuff. Searching the mainframe brought a couple articles that suggest that full moons and special dates do empower ghosts, so be careful around this thing. I don't look good in black. LOL.

That was so not funny, Danny thought.

That was all Jazz had written. He sent her a quick "thank you," printed out her message and logged off. Gathering up the sheets he was careful to tear off the portion where Jazz wrote about his friends. He was probably going to have to show this to Abigail. He didn't need to let her know he was talking to others about her.

As Danny walked down the path from the offices and pass the dinning hall he noticed that Mrs Sanchez, the cook, was sitting in her favorite spot on the loading dock, enjoying a cigarette. He didn't recall seeing Sam at dinner. She had said something about not feeling well as they had walked back to their cabins. She was probably starving by now.

"Good Evening, Mrs. Sanchez," he called. "Is there any fruit left in the kitchen? It's for Sam Manson. She wasn't at dinner because she wasn't feeling well. I thought she might enjoy a bite."

"Sam Manson?" Mrs Sanchez muttered. "Isn't she that veggie girl? What a pain in the butt always having to come up with one meatless plate each meal for her! What's wrong with her?"

"I think she got too much sun this afternoon during swimming."

"Ehh! With her complexion that wouldn't be hard to do. She needs to get out more. Get a little sun -- eat a little meat once in a while."

With a loud grunt Mrs. Sanchez heaved herself out of her chair. "Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back."

She was back in a couple minutes with a large paper bag. "Here. This will do her good for sunstroke. A bunch of bananas for potassium, some orange juice for Vitamin C and sugar, Apples for crunch. Raisins for dessert. Don't go eating all of it yourself."

"Thanks, Mrs. Sanchez. You're the greatest,"

"Ah, go on, get out of here before people start to think I'm an easy touch."

Danny carried the bag back to Sam's cabin and knocked on the door. A girl he vaguely recognized answered. He asked to see Sam.

Sam showed up a moment later looking wane and pale. Danny was surprised to see she was still wearing her bathing suit. She was wrapped in a blanket.

"Hey." she said.

"I didn't see you at dinner."

"I was sleeping."

"Since swimming?"

Sam looked down at her clothes. "Yeah. I laid down for a minutes and just woke up a half hour ago."

"Are you feeling better? I thought you might be hungry so I brought you some food from the dinning hall." Danny said, handing her the sack.

Sam looked into the bag. "Danny, you're a lifesaver!" She pulled out a carton of orange juice. ripped the carton open and drink the entire contents on the spot. She dropped the carton back into the bag and wiped some excess juice off her chin. She dug into the bag again, then paused. She looked up sheepishly and handed the bag back to Danny. "Here, find us a table while I get dressed."

Danny staked out a picnic table close to her cabin, under the shade of a tree. The sun was low in the sky. The breezes were cooling.

Sam came out in almost no time at all, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, flip-flops, all black of course. Danny wondered if she had actually dressed or just pulled the jeans over her swim suit.. She was carrying a large bowl and a knife. Aetheria, the punk girl with all the piercings was with her. Danny was disappointed because he wanted to talk about the Camp Ghost but didn't think he should in front of Sam's friend.

Sam made quick introductions and dug into the bag, pulling out one of the oranges. She quickly peeled it, throwing the rind into the bowl, and handing segments around. "I am so starved," she announced.

"What happened?" Danny asked.

"I don't know. I think I got too much sun."

"Forget your sunblock?"

"No, but I think I grabbed the SPF 12 when I should have used SPF 60."

"You don't look burnt." Danny observed.

"No, but I still felt like I was baked. Felt all woozy and lightheaded. Laid down for a nap and woke up a half hour ago. I did discover that there's something worse than throwing up," Sam said.

"What's that?"

"Feeling let you're about to throw up for a half-hour without doing so. That orange juice really settled my stomach. Thanks, Danny."

""No problem."

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked Sam.

"You keep asking! Yes, Yes. I'm much better, though I think I'm going to hit the sack early. I want to be at my best for the Olympics tomorrow. Gotta uphold the honor of Hemlock Cabin and all that."

"She sounds delirious to me," Aetheria said.

Aetheria was a very theatrical person. When she spoke, she liked people to pay attention to her. Breaking a nail was a calamity. Except that she took none of it seriously. While talking about the horrors of her childhood and her thoughtless, un-understanding parents she calmly and one by one removed her various piercings, swabbed them down thoroughly with alcohol, scrubbed the site of the piercing with more alcohol and replaced the metal.

"I started with my ears. My parents had them pierced when I was three, I think. Or two. I was too young to remember. I think I was nine when I first tried to pierce my ears myself. I remembered to sterilize the safety pin with a flame but I forgot to numb my earlobe with an ice cube first. That was a pain that lingered. Didn't stop me, of course. When I saw the look on my mother's face when she saw the little skull dangling from the top of my ear I knew I had found my life's work."

"Doesn't it make it hard to find friends with so many piercings?" Danny wondered.

"People who can't see past my piercings aren't worth calling friends. Now I think you would look darling with a little nose ring, right there!" Aetheria shot back, touching Danny on his left nostril.

Danny blanched. 'I don't think so. I don't have a lot of friends now, why would I want to keep any away?"

"You're just afraid it will hurt. Boys are so squeamish," Aetheria announced to Sam who had been trying to imagine Danny with a nose ring. Surprisingly, she couldn't see it.

"You'd think what with them being so macho and all, boys would be the ones getting the piercings, to show off how much pain they can take."

"My grams says that you don't know the meaning of pain until you've given birth. I guess that means girls are just better than boys when it comes to pain," Sam said.

Aetheria's twisted up her face. "Kind of puts one off the whole 'joy of birth' thing when you put it that way."

"I think I'll be going," Danny said, starting to get up.

"Oh, don't go," Aetheria said. "We're just messing with ya."

"I never thought of pain as a competitive sport," Danny said.

"What other point is there to boxing?" Aetheria asked. "Look, each piercing hurt. Some hurt a lot, a few got infected despite my best care. If it didn't hurt so much, I'd have a lot more. But every time I think my mother is starting to get used to the way I look, I start plotting where to put the next one."

"Wouldn't therapy be cheaper?" Danny asked.

"It would take a lifetime of therapy to reconcile me to my mother. Body piercings are a lot faster and more reliable."

"Sam?" Danny asked.

"Don't look at me. My parents have taken me to see lots of therapists. It hasn't done me any good," Sam continued. "I will be who I will be, dark and gloomy!"

"You're saying that acting out is better than therapy?" Danny questioned.

"Only when the therapy is trying to change who you are," Aetheria answered.

Danny shook his head, confused. "You know Scar's trying therapy," he told Sam.

"Scar!" Sam blanched. She'd met the half-ghost monster.

"She dropped in on Jazz last night."

"Poor Jazz."

Aetheria was starting to scowl for being left out of the conversation.

"Jazz wants me to talk to Scar about setting boundaries."

Sam snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, but I'd like to think that therapy will help Scar. You two talk like its just a big waste of time."

"Most people I know getting therapy, "Aetheria said, "are better off without it."

"I don't know," Sam said hesitantly. "I've learned a lot if useful stuff in therapy. I just refuse to let it change me. Scar, though, I don't know. She's... pretty messed up. It could do her a world of good."

"You know I was thinking of getting tattoo," Aetheria said. "I was thinking of a flaming skull on my boob.," She tapped the space over her heart. Danny turned away, too embarrassed to look where she was pointing.

"For some reason, I thought you already had a tattoo." he said.

"Tattoo parlors are a pretty closely regulated. I gotta dig up a really good fake ID before I can get one. You gotta be eighteen to get one and I'm only sixteen. Felt like sixty but that's another story."

"How did you get your piercings, then?"

"Most I did myself, other I had friends do. I went to a shop to do my tongue." She stuck out her tongue and Danny was horrified to see a pin going through it. "They did piercings in a back room ,no questions asked."

To Danny's relief Sam suddenly asked, "You want some of these raisins?"

"Yeah, sure," he said and she handed a bunch to him, then scooped out a handful for Aetheria.

"These are good, very sweet," Danny said.

"Oh yeah. Nature's candy," Sam commented.

"I'm not grossing your out, am I," Aetheria asked.

"Maybe just a little," Danny said.

"Then my work is done," Aetheria said.

"I take it you heard from Jazz tonight. What else did she have to say?" Sam asked.

"Here," Danny passed over the pages from Jazz's email.

Before Sam could stop her, Aetheria leaned over and read the pages as well. "There's a ghost at this camp? Cool! Wait, this is the kid they were talking about the first day of camp, the kid that was supposed to have been killed by a crazed up counselor! O-o-o. The counselors were acting guilty. Don't notice anything strange or different about the victim. They are such liars. I bet one of them was picking on this kid and they're covering up for some reason."

"Because one of them killed him?"

"Nah. They would have turned on him. This is something they were all guilty of."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Danny asked.

"Years of juvenile delinquency."

"Therapy,"Sam cut in, "See: it is good for something."

"But why did they cut off his head?" Sam wondered.

"Who?" Danny wondered.

"The counselors, of course," Sam answered. "Why else would they all lie to cover for each other."

"They cut off his head? That's gross!" Danny complained.

"She right,"Aetheria injected.

"The counselors killed him, cut off his head and threw his body in the lake? But why? It doesn't make any sense?"

"Maybe it does to a ghost," Aetheria suggested.

"No, from what I've read about ghosts they tend to be pretty logical, once you figure out their logic." Sam said.

Danny disagreed with that notion since most of the ghosts he knew had an irrational urge to kill him. But this wasn't about the ghost, he realized. It was what the counselors did that staked the ghost to this one place and caused it to relive over and over its death. And the counselors were humans, so whatever they did, ultimately had to make human sense.

"How many counselors are at this camp?" Aetheria asked, "around thirty. Thirty people don't simultaneously all kill someone."

"They did in "Murder on the Orient Express," Danny quipped.

"That was a movie — "

"A book." Sam corrected.

"Whatever, My point is that they didn't kill him but they felt compelled to hide his death."

"And if we know why they did that, we would know what drives this ghost," Danny said.

"So what do we know?" Aetheria asked. "That his head was never found. There's something about his head that would reveal the full scope of what they did. Find the head and we'll know what it is they did."

"And if we unite it with its body," Danny said. "The ghost might transition to the Ghost Zone and leave us alone."

"Good luck with that. If they couldn't find it fifty years ago I doubt anyone's going to find it today," Aetheria said.

Danny remembered the vision he had seen in the abandoned cabin the day before, just before the Camp Ghost had attacked. There was a clue there he'd like to discuss with Sam but he couldn't do it now with Aetheria here. He couldn't reveal that he was Danny Phantom.

Sam and Danny were quiet for a minute, thinking about stuff they couldn't reveal in front of the punk girl. Aetheria re-read Jazz's emails, then dropped them back on the table. "You two act like you're going after this ghost. Shouldn't you leave that to trained professionals?"

"Words of caution from you?" Sam asked, with a light laugh.

"I stick holes in my body. Nobody gets hurt but me. Messing with a ghost — that's seriously dangerous. I like you, Sam, and I guess your little friend's OK, too. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I don't plan to."

"Okay, then. Good. Look, I've got to go. Believe it or not, I've got a boy who wants to met me at Make-out Point."

"Where's that?" Danny asked.

"You don't know? Doesn't matter, you'll just have to take Sam some where else. I don't like company when I'm with a boy."

"That's not what I meant," Danny said blushing. Sam seemed blushing as well. "I'm never heard of any place called that before."

"Oh, it's a little ways up the trail that starts over there. There's a nice view of the sun setting over the lake. But "Occupido!" One couple at a time."

Aetheria got up and walked back to the cabin. She came out a moment later with a shirt thrown over her T-shirt and disappeared up the trail.

After a moment Danny turned to Sam and asked, "You're not going to get any piercings are you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you seem to really like Aetheria and she's got all these piercings..." he trailed away.

Sam looked at him. "And...?" she prompted.

"Well, I know you're not supposed to criticize other people or their beliefs and all, but... well, they're kind of gross and I like you the way you are."

"Oh, Danny, how sweet. — Because I have no plans for changing!"

Danny sighed.

"But I already have piercings..."

"What!"

Sam laughed. "My ears. I've have pierced ears since I was six. You know that. I just don't normally wear jewelry. So are you grossed out that I have holes in my ears?"

"That's different." Danny scowled. "It's the rest of the face I meant."

Sam picked up a raisin from her hand and threw it at Danny. "Ow," he cried, that smarts."

"Danny, sometimes I think the reason I like yo so much is because you are so hopelessly square." Seeing Danny scowl, she quickly added, "In a good way, Danny. In a good way. Whenever I feel like my life is spinning out of control, there you are, consistent and reliable. That means a lot of me, Danny. It really does."

Embarrassed by Sam's revelation, Danny picked up the print-out of Jazz's E-mails. "I suppose we should give these to Abigail," he said.

"It that another excuse to talk to her?" Sam sniped.

Danny was confused by Sam's sudden change of mood.

"We did say we would look this stuff up." Danny reminded her.

"Doesn't mean we have to give them to her."

"If we give her this information she'll chase after the ghost and leave us alone."

"No, she'll find some way to work you into her project. And then she'll find out you're a ghost and that will be the end of you."

"It won't happen."

"No, it won't because you're not giving her these papers!"

"What's got into you, Sam?"

"Nothing's got into me. And nothing going to got into you, either. Certainly not some red-headed wannabe ghost hunter."

"Sam, you're starting to sound really jealous. It's not like you. We've been friends since kindergarten. That's never going to change."

Sam looked at Danny with angry eyes for a moment. "All right. If it will make you happy I'll give her these pages. But you've got to remind her that when it comes to hunting this ghost she's on her own!"

"Yes, Sam, I will. I had no intention of ever going ghost-hunting with her."

"Good!" Sam looked over Danny's shoulder. "Looks like someone's looking for you."

Danny turned and saw Dash stalking down on him. "Oh my gosh. It must be eight o'clock. The Head Ranger's curfew. Gotta go. Good-night."

He jumped up and ran towards the cabin, making a wide detour around Dash. Just before entering the cabin he looked back to see Sam getting up from the table. She had the big bowl, now filled with peelings, in one hand and the sheaf of papers in the other. Things had been going well until he had mention Abigail's name. It was easy for his sister to say there was nothing the matter with Sam, but he knew differently.