Howdy everyone! I got this chapter up a little quicker than usual, because boy was it a fun one!
Trigger warning for a non-injury-related medical emergency that can be fatal for a human, and is depicted as similarly dire here. Also a couple brief mentions of needles.
Danny didn't see Wes at lunch.
This in and of itself was pretty unusual; ever since that one battle with Skulker, Wes ate with the gang almost every day. And if he didn't, he was eating with his teammates. So the fact that he was nowhere to be seen was a little worrying.
Danny frowned at his lunch, a somewhat measly-looking "seafood" salad. That being, a plain salad with some imitation crab thrown on top. "I'm gonna go look for Wes," he blurted.
Sam and Tucker both looked up from their own meals. "Don't expect us to keep your seat warm for you," Tucker quipped.
"I'll be right back," Danny snickered, abandoning his tray to locate his friend.
Wes wasn't actually all that hard to find. When one got into your business as much as Wes used to, one couldn't help but learn some things in turn. As such, Danny knew that Wes had to be in one of three places. If he wasn't at the cafeteria, he was usually either outside, or in the hallway by the darkroom. And considering it was raining sheets outside, that left the latter location.
So Danny wasn't all that surprised to find Wes sitting on the floor, bag lunch in his lap. He was already looking up when Danny rounded the corner, having clearly expected him. "Hey Danny. What're you doing over here?"
"Looking for you," Danny answered, lowering himself next to Wes. "What are you doing all the way over here? We were all wondering where you went."
"Oh, yeah, sorry," Wes hummed sheepishly. "I just can't be in the cafeteria today."
Danny quirked a brow, puzzled. "What's wrong with the cafeteria?"
"Nothing, really," Wes shrugged. "But you know how every Monday the lunch ladies put up the menu for the week, right?" He waited for Danny to nod before he continued. "Well, it's always a general schedule, like a theme, right? For me, they let me know in advance what they're gonna make every day."
Danny blinked. "How come they do that?"
"Because I have-"
But he was interrupted by a jolt racing up his spine, Danny's breath fogging in the same moment. They both groaned.
"Ugh, I knew lunches were too quiet lately," Danny complained.
"Never any peace around here," Wes grunted in agreement, the pair already transforming in preparation.
"No Wes, you stay here," Danny instructed him, already flying towards the threat.
"And leave you to handle it by yourself?" Wes guffawed. "Fat chance, especially not after I kicked your butt the other day."
"You did not kick my butt," Danny refuted with a roll of his head. But he didn't complain any further as Wes tagged along, knowing that he was, technically, right.
Wes, as focused on keeping up as he was, didn't realize where they were headed until they were barreling through the cafeteria doors. Students fled from every available exit, with some hiding under tables until they could find an opportunity to escape. And behind the serving counter, amidst a whirlwind of undercooked byproduct, was the Lunch Lady herself.
"Oh, great," Wes moaned.
"How dare you feed students this slop!" the Lunch Lady boomed at the poor cook unfortunate enough to have not hidden in time. "I can't believe you would condone offering this to so many growing students! They need real food, not this cheap plastic!"
"Yeesh, you almost sound like Sam," Danny sniped.
The Lunch Lady spun around, gritting her razor sharp teeth. "You! You always interfere with me fixing the menu!" She dove for Danny and Wes, the pair darting backwards and awaiting impact.
But the Lunch Lady stopped just short of them, the food storm around her momentarily calming. In her hands was a full tin, wafting a sweet, fruity aroma. "Would either of you care for some apple pie?"
Wes shook his head, but Danny was already reeling back for a punch. "Can't we skip this part today? We all know there's never a right answer with you."
He struck the Lunch Lady square in the jaw, sending her somersaulting back towards the kitchen. Luckily, the cook that had been back there had fled during the brief diversion.
The Lunch Lady crashed into the dish racks, trays and plates shattering beneath her. Her offering having been refused, the surrounding food once again orbited her at an ever-increasing pace. She growled, hair writhing angrily. "Then it's time to show you why you need to get some meat on your bones!"
Wes kept shaking his head, already drifting back the way he came. He idly itched at his arms, lilac with worry. "Sorry Phantom, I really can't do this today."
Danny shot him a strange look, not even paying the enraged cook any mind. "Wait, you're scared of her? She's not much worse than the Box Ghost!" Still, it was clear as day that something had Wes rattled. "...Alright, go. I can handle her."
Wes nodded, and turned to flee. But he jerked back with a yelp as the exit doors were barraged by a wave of lunch meat, the mass just barely avoiding him.
"Neither of you are going anywhere until I say lunch is over!"
Wes gulped.
Undeterred by the Lunch Lady's threatening demeanor, Danny charged, fist clenched and poised. The cook was ready for his approach, however, calling the meat pulp back to her in an instant to cushion the blow. But Danny expected a maneuver like this, and was ready with his countermeasure. A sickly green glow emanated from the fatty mass, which then erupted as it was blown apart by the ectoplasmic beam within it.
Wes yelped, swerving around the meaty spray until he found a dishwasher to hide behind, riding out the rest of the mystery meat rain. "Hey, watch it!"
"What, afraid to get your clothes dirty?" Danny teased, unaware of the Lunch Lady already recovering from his latest attack, raising both of her arms.
"Look out!" Wes called out, diving for his friend as an entire knife block– and all the knives it came with– came sailing his way, grabbing him just in time to turn them both intangible and let the knives harmlessly pass through. The pair tumbled to the floor, solid once more.
"Thanks for the save," Danny grunted, wriggling free from Wes's grasp. And then it was his turn to do the rescuing, tugging the far less experienced Halfa out of the way as a large, meaty fist struck the ground where they had been laying, the Lunch Lady having finally taken on her familiar, food-clad form.
"Oh, great," groaned Wes. "Exactly what I was hoping she wouldn't do."
"I know, she reeks when she does this," Danny joked, pulling Wes along as he dodged even more sloppy attacks. Even as imposing as she was, the Lunch Lady was, at least, a very inexperienced fighter, which left her open to a laser from Danny's free hand. "Think you can make your escape now?"
"I'll sure try!" With the Lunch Lady distracted by the ectoblast, Wes flew, taking the opportunity to head for the exit. However, Danny's attack wasn't nearly enough to keep the Lunch Lady occupied for long. With a throaty growl, she aimed, arm extending to strike Wes's fleeing back. He cried out, crashing through the door and into the hall on the other side.
"Watt!" Danny brought his heel down on the offending limb, severing it before it could shove Wes into the wall across the hallway. Now freed, Wes fell to the ground, grunting on impact. Danny was immediately at his side, helping him up. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Wes insisted, swiping at his arms in a vain attempt to remove the fat and grease collecting on them. "Ugh, this isn't good. This is really not good…"
"No use wiping that off," Danny pointed out, casting a glance back into the cafeteria. The Lunch Lady was still collecting the remains of her arm, replenishing the mass of her meat mech. "Not until I can stop her, anyway."
"Yeah, well, she obviously isn't gonna let me go," Wes snorted derisively, scratching at a patch that had stubbornly clung to his forearm. "We'd better make this quick."
Despite all his bravado, Danny could see right through it. Wes's colors hadn't changed almost at all the entire ordeal, stubbornly remaining some shade or another of purple. Already his breathing was growing labored, cheeks flushed an unhealthy green. "Watt, you're worn out. She's still recovering, if you leave now you can get away."
But, of course, it was never that easy. With a BOOM, what remained of the cafeteria doors caved outwards, erupting with red hot flame. Danny and Wes darted in opposite directions, narrowly dodging the column of fire. When it died down, the Lunch Lady was left looming in the smoke, rows of ovens smoldering behind her. "I'm going to make sure you both fry!"
"Isn't fried food bad for your arteries?" Danny snarked, eyes going a frosty blue. And that was all the warning the Lunch Lady had before he was shooting a ray of solid ice, with her taking to the air and swerving around it. It instead struck the doorframe, sharp icicles sprouting on impact. The Lunch Lady was struck by two of them, briefly immobilizing her but doing her no clear harm.
"Watt, shock her!" Danny commanded. "She can't guard against that!"
But Wes shook his head, floating backwards and watching cautiously. "Can't do it, I would have to touch her!"
"Oh, for crying out loud," groaned Danny. "Who cares if it's messy? Just shower afterwards!"
Wes was given no time to argue that, as the Lunch Lady was finally free, and she used the moment of Danny's reproach to launch herself at him. She grabbed him by his arms and forced him against the row of lockers behind him, processed meat seeping its way towards his wrists and across his chest. But all Danny had to do was tuck in his legs and kick, throwing her into the opposite wall and freeing him from the red goop.
This was his chance. Hoping to take the opportunity to escape, Wes brought his tail forth, turning around and rocking back in preparation to throw himself forwards. But the Lunch Lady wasn't nearly as incapacitated as Wes had assumed. "You aren't going anywhere!" In the blink of an eye, her arm snagged him by the waist, harshly tugging him back towards her and slamming him into the ground. She wasted no time in using her mass to keep him there, engulfing all but his hands, head, and the tip of his tail in a matter of seconds. "Now, let me ask you again. Would you care for a delicious, healthy snack?"
Danny raised his hand, training it on her side. His palm glowed menacingly, casting green shadows across the walls and illuminating his face. "Let him go," he ordered.
"And if I don't?" challenged the Lunch Lady.
But this wasn't what got Danny's attention. Strangely, it was the fact that nothing was happening that had him looking away from her, and instead to his downed friend. It only took a few seconds for Wes to muster up a nasty shock, and an instant to release it. But the Lunch Lady wasn't in pain. Wes hadn't even begun humming or glowing. He didn't even try to shock her.
So if he wasn't going to attack, then he should have been escaping. Sure, phasing through a ghost while in ghost form wasn't exactly an easy feat, but all that was beneath Wes was linoleum. He was crafty; ordinarily, he would have fallen through the closest available surface, and then popped out somewhere completely different. And yet the extremities that Danny could see were perfectly solid, lacking the fuzzy quality of attempted intangibility.
What was probably most concerning, though, was his breathing. It came in hard, shuddering gasps, escaping in shallow gusts, his chest having almost no time to fall before he was sucking in another greedy breath. He sounded like he was suffocating.
But the Lunch Lady was nowhere near his throat.
She seemed to realize this about the same time Danny did. "Something's wrong," she murmured.
"Let him go," Danny reiterated, tone more urgent than threatening now. The Lunch Lady, surprisingly, obeyed, withdrawing without complaint.
Wes skittered backwards the second he was loose, until his back collided with the lockers behind him. He gasped for air, coughing dry, ugly coughs as he tugged at his collar. His upper arms were dotted with raised, green bumps, raw like rashes. His face was in a similar state, welts raising along his throat and cheeks, and getting progressively worse as the pair watched. It was no wonder Wes was having such a hard time breathing; his collar was too taut against his skin, his throat visibly swollen against it.
"...He's having a reaction," the Lunch Lady realized aloud.
Danny cringed. He knew that, as someone who was part ghost, he didn't need to breathe nearly as much as a full human did. He'd had entire battles underwater, and heck, even a couple in space, and turned out completely fine. He wasn't sure whether or not that could be true for Wes.
But even if it was, such a state wasn't indefinite. Danny had, on more than one occasion, nearly choked without access to air. And he knew from experience that, once he felt that itch, human instinct would demand that he breathe, even if there was nothing to take in. Even if Wes didn't need air, Danny knew he would be suffering.
This could get really, really bad.
Danny tried not to panic. "Great. Awesome. What do I do about it?"
"Sweetie, do you have a pen?" asked the Lunch Lady, her voice startlingly calm in the face of this new situation.
Wes nodded, flabbergasted by her concern but too desperate to care. He turned to Danny, mouthing something that could barely be heard, a croak with no voice. He must have known his words couldn't be made out, though, because he also brought his hands up, holding up his fingers. "...S-Seven... eighteen..."
"Locker 718, got it." Danny floated up, preparing to leave, but he hesitated when he remembered the Lunch Lady was still there, and way too close for comfort. "You. You'd better get away from him if you know what's good for you."
"Not until you make sure he's stable," the cook said sternly.
"Until I-? But you're the one who did this to him!" Danny shouted incredulously.
"I was trying to convince you both to make better food choices, not give him anaphylaxis," the Lunch Lady snapped. "Now stop arguing and get him some epinephrine, I'll make sure he doesn't get any worse."
At first, Danny wasn't certain if he could trust her. As someone who got her kicks from hurting teenagers with food, he wasn't so sure that she would be willing to save someone from it. But as he watched, the Lunch Lady let the meat around her disperse, the writhing mass returning to the kitchen from whence it came. Idly, Danny hoped it didn't end up getting reused for tomorrow's lunch. But the Lunch Lady didn't stop there. She held her hand out towards Wes, and the residue that remained on his skin and clothing withdrew, forming a small ball of fat and gristle that was then dismissed with the rest. Wes didn't look any better, but hopefully that would slow down what was happening to him.
Danny remembered, then, that the Lunch Lady wasn't actually evil. Needlessly violent at times, yes, but not evil. Despite her unorthodox methods, all she ever really wanted was to make sure the students of Casper High got all the nutrients they needed. She was a kind soul underneath all that misguided aggression, and it was this reminder that made Danny comfortable enough to leave the two behind. The Lunch Lady said she wanted Wes to get better, and he believed her.
It took almost no time at all for Danny to find Wes's locker. He didn't bother trying to guess his combination, simply sticking his front half inside and pointedly ignoring the Phantom shrine within to rummage through his schoolbag. It wasn't long before he found something small and slender in the front pocket. After some shuffling around to confirm that was what he needed, and finding a second one in the process, he grabbed both and flew straight back.
When he arrived outside the cafeteria, he found the Lunch Lady hovering over Wes, both literally and figuratively. Next to the incapacitated Halfa was a knife from the kitchen, and upon further inspection, his collar had been largely cut away.
Danny glared. The Lunch Lady shrugged.
When Danny got close, he realized Wes had gone quiet. too quiet. And for one terrifying moment, Danny thought he'd succumbed to his allergies, or maybe that the Lunch Lady had taken advantage of his absence to finish him off. But when he looked closer, Wes was still conscious. Was he holding his breath? That seemed like it could have been a smart approach; it wouldn't do anything for the swelling, but it was easier to not be able to breathe when you weren't really trying to anyway. Or, that was true for Danny, at least.
When Wes noticed his approach, he held out his hand. Danny was relieved; he wasn't actually sure how to use an Epipen. He handed one of the devices over without question, and Wes fumbled with the cap with trembling hands. Without a moment of hesitation, he plunged the needle end into his thigh.
The reaction was almost instantaneous. Wes sucked in a massive, greedy breath, rasping and coughing. "Oh thank god," Danny gasped, both he and the Lunch Lady sagging with relief.
Still, their predicament was far from over. Wes was breathing, but not well, and his other symptoms didn't improve almost at all. And there was no telling how long the epinephrine would last; he needed treatment, and fast.
Wes patted his clothing, only to remember he didn't have his belongings in ghost form. He fell back against the lockers, frustrated and exhausted. He couldn't gather his focus to change back, his vision swimming even with the fresh oxygen in his system.
He was fading. But, hopefully, that meant his phone would reappear when he passed out.
"...When I change back," he rasped, "take my phone and call my dad." He paused, his smile almost sheepish even through his hazy, barely disguised terror. "And, um, I don't know if this matters or not since I'm already half dead, but just in case… do you know CPR?"
"Wait, what?!" Danny shrieked. "Why would I need to know CPR?! You're breathing!" But he got no reply, Wes's head rolling as he finally lost his grip on consciousness. "Why would I need to know CPR?!"
({O})
"So, what, you have a seafood allergy?" Danny asked.
The two of them, plus Walter, were in the hospital, with Wes laying in bed hooked up to IVs, and the others in uncomfortable visitor seating. After the incident with the Lunch Lady, paramedics had arrived on the scene in a matter of minutes, finding a very human Wes on the floor in the company of his equally human friend. Wes was rushed to the hospital, and Danny was given permission to leave school early. After a quick but very thorough shower in the locker room to wash away any potential contaminants, Danny had hurried over to check on his friend. Luckily, he seemed to be no worse for wear, and after his treatment, he was simply being kept to make sure he didn't have another flare-up.
Because, as Danny was just learning, it was possible for a food allergy to be bad enough to cause anaphylaxis more than once. Yikes.
"Just shellfish," Wes replied. "Crabs, shrimp, lobster, that kind of stuff. I can still eat fish, but I have to make sure it's allergen-friendly. I can't touch shellfish, can't eat it, can't even be in the same room if it's cooking. It's pretty bad."
"Wow, that really sucks," Danny murmured. "But I guess that explains why you didn't want to be in the cafeteria today." And then Danny thought about that for a moment. "...Wait. We didn't even have any real seafood today. It was just imitation crab! So you're telling me you maybe almost died, because of fake crab?!"
"Hey, imitation crab has real crab in it!" Wes snapped. "It's a misnomer, that's what it is!"
"Why would they use real crab to make fake crab?!"
"I don't know why, they just do!"
"At any rate," Walter cut in politely, "thank you for taking care of him before we could reach him. It's thanks to you that he's okay."
Danny sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it wasn't all me. I had no idea what to do, it was mostly the Lunch Lady who did the work."
"The lunch lady?" Walter asked.
"She's a ghost that shows up every other week," Wes said offhandedly. "Usually she attacks because she's mad about a menu change, but she told Danny what to do, and stuck around until she knew I was okay." He turned to Danny. "Speaking of which, what ended up happening with her?"
"Oh, she was pretty mad about the whole thing," Danny replied. "She almost started rampaging all over again until I told her I would get Sam to do something about the menu. And believe me, Sam sure wasn't happy about it either. She's starting a petition to, uh... I don't know. Something about limiting cross-containment with allergens or something?"
"Cross-contamination?" Wes suggested.
"Yeah, that. Plus she wanted everyone to be able to see the menu ahead of time instead of every Monday."
"Please let me know when the petition is ready," said Walter. "I would be more than happy to sign it."
"Thanks, Mr. Weston." Danny smiled, before turning back to his friend. "For real, though, I'm glad you're okay."
Wes smiled, and when he opened up his arms, Danny didn't hesitate to return the hug, minding the needles in the process. "Glad to be okay."
"...And, uh. I could probably ask Jazz to teach me CPR. Just in case."
Wes chuckled. "Sounds like a plan."
And thus I reveal that by candid, I in fact meant something potentially very serious that just never comes up! :D Hopefully I got my details right though. I did some research into allergy symptoms and treatment, but I know it wasn't fully accurate here. Even if some of those discrepancies were just because Danny doesn't know a whole lot about anaphylaxis, like the effects on the heart lol
I was torn between two different chapter ideas to do next, and held a vote in the DP writing server without saying what the chapters would actually be about. And uh, the next one is gonna be a bit dramatic ;)