Stress
"What's with her?" Sam asked, gesturing to Danny's twitchy sister.
Danny sighed. "It's exam week. And every exam week Jazz goes into stress mode."
Jazz was indeed a mess. Her orange hair was in a sloppy ponytail, her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was pale. She had more bags under her eyes than a grocer had at a store. Jazz sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by piled of textbooks and papers.
"History...math...English...gotta ace it...gotta...ace it." Jazz muttered, left eye twitching.
Danny slowly moved out the doorway, pulling Sam with him. 'Best to leave her alone if you don't your head snapped off." They walked out into the sun and Danny winced as Jazz screamed.
"DAD! I AM TRYING TO STUDY! DO YOU WANT ME TO FAIL? HUH? HUH? IS THIS PART OF YOUR PLAN TO FORCE ME TO BECOME A GHOST HUNTER? ADMIT IT!"
Danny shook his head. "Poor dad will be traumatized for life."
Exam week had passed, and Jazz walked into the living room where Danny, Tucker and Sam were playing video games. "Hi, Danny."
"Hi, Jazz. How were exams?"
Jazz beamed. "I aced them, as usual."
Sam glanced up. "So, you're not stressed anymore?"
Jazz laughed. "Oh, Sam. I don't get stressed."
She walked out, leaving a confused Sam behind.