A/N: So, I'm making a series of one-shots! …well, some of them might end up with some follow-up chapters, but not necessarily immediately afterward. This is me…getting rid of ideas in my head.

So, One Shot #1: Meeting in High School

It's an AU fic. I've already established in the J.O.S. continuum that Phantom WOULD NOT exist without Sam, but this is a "What if he did, and what if Sam transferred in during high-school?" I like showing how other students might view Danny. He and Tuck are a little different than my usual interpretations of them, but…oh well. I don't think they're TOO OOC. Maybe. Oh well. Anyway, I'll occasionally update this with random thoughts and concepts. Not all of them may be this long, though…

I'm thinking I'll do a small series of one-shots in here where I tell the story of how some of our favorite ghosts died. Not Ghost Writer, though, because you'll learn his story in Crown of Fire.

Her reflection stares from her foggy mirror, and she rubs anxiously at her shoulder-length, black hair with a towel. Her eyes dart to her clock – it's eight-fifteen. She'll have to take her car today, having missed the bus.

"I don't know why you take the bus, Sammy," her mom clicks in the kitchen about five minutes later, "especially after we got you such a nice car…"

"I'd rather save my gas money," she dismisses, shoving some cereal down her throat, "See you."

She jogs out to her garage and climbs into the BMW, plugging her iPod into the dashboard. Metal blares from her speakers. She quickly double-checks her dark purple lipstick and matching eye-shadow in the mirror.

"First day," she growls, "First day in a new school, and I miss the bus."

Her family has just moved to Amity Park, rumored to be the most haunted city in the U.S., if not the world. She had just started her Junior year of high-school when her father was transferred. His wife and daughter followed him at the end of the first term. She's only lived in Amity for three days.

"Turn right at First and Main," her GPS drones.

"Thanks, Bridget," she snorts, snapping her indicator on.

She pulls into the parking lot of Casper High with five minutes to spare. She leaps from her seat, hauling her backpack over one shoulder. She locks her car as she strides away. It beeps in confirmation.

She pulls a map she'd gotten yesterday, when she registered, from a pocket, followed by her schedule.

"Room four-eighteen…" she mutters, her finger tracing across the map until she finds the three small numbers on a tiny classroom.

A tiny classroom on the other side of the school.

She curses and walks as quickly as she dares without 'running.' She doesn't need to get into trouble on her first day.

The hallway is completely empty as the first bell rings, and she picks up her pace a little. Something catches her attention – movement in her peripheral vision. She turns her gaze in its direction.

A boy – probably a fellow Junior – leans against a wall, his fingers massaging his temples. He's tall, but very thin. His blue eyes are ringed by dark shadows – one of them is black. His white, long-sleeved t-shirt is rumpled, and his knuckles are red, and he's in the process of wrapping them with a bandage. There's a small split in his lip that looks fresh. His gaze captures hers and she freezes in place, her breath rushing out in a long breath.

She can't look away. Her heartbeat is thudding in her ears.

You need to get to class, Sam, she screams in her mind, go. Hurry.

But don't turn your back on him, her subconscious adds.

Finally, his lip curls into a grimace, and he vanishes into the boys' restrooms beside him in the blink of an eye.

She inhales deeply, rushing again towards her classroom. She knocks tentatively on the locked door, which is answered by a confused teacher. His eyes sweep her quickly, and she can already feel his opinion forming.

Black hair, purple highlights, dark lipstick, black t-shirt with a metal band's insignia on the front, tight black jeans, studded metal-tipped boots. A piercing through her eyebrow, and a few more on her ears.

It's probably a good thing he can't see the tattoo on my shoulder, she muses dully, picturing the art on her right shoulder-blade. A skull rests in the middle of a web ensnared by thorny roses. Her parents had been mortified upon discovering the ink, and furious with Grandma Manson for providing consent.

"And you are…?" he asks.

"I'm Samantha Manson," she answers, "I just transferred, so I might not be on your attendance sheet yet."

"Your schedule?" he extends a hand, and she places the sheet in his grasp. He scans the file, noticing the official watermark in the paper, and nods, "There's an empty desk over there," he gestures to a corner of the room.

She drops her bag on one of two desks in the back corner.

"Other one, Ms. Manson," he corrects, and she obeys, puzzled.

"What does it matter?" someone snorts, "Fenton may not show up anyway."

"Like, how has he not been suspended by now?" a blond girl comments.

"That's enough," he frowns, "On with the lesson. Let me know if you need any help, Ms. Manson. I stick around for tutoring an hour after school. I'm not sure where your previous school was in comparison…"

"I'll be fine. Thanks," she pulls a notebook from her bag as he clicks the slideshow forward.

"Hey, Foley," someone hisses, catching the attention of another kid, in front of the other empty seat. His pencil hesitates, but he otherwise ignores them.

"I hear you take notes for Danny," the blond boy continues. He wears a letterman jacket – of course.

Blue-green eyes glare over lenses. Sam feels something similar to that moment in the hallway, though not as intense. The jock doesn't seem to notice.

"Think I can have some too? You're pretty smart, aren't you?"

"And why should I, Dash?" he whispers evenly, "You shoved Danny into a locker this morning. You do realize he's getting too tall for that, right?"

"Eh," he shrugs, "Fenton's skinny. He fits fine, if you just fold him in two."

She bites her cheek, trying to focus on the lesson. Thankfully, she notes, luck is finally on her side. Her previous school was probably a few lessons ahead, so she doesn't need to take new notes.

Foley's dark hand tightens around his pencil, "Forget it, Dash. If I were you, I'd leave Danny alone for the rest of today. I'm not sure if he'll put up with it like usual."

"What's he going to do?" he snorts back, "Cry? Yell at me?"

Foley sighs and shakes his head, adjusting his red beret. He mutters something under his breath, sounding a little bit like 'you wish', but she can't tell for sure.

Ten minutes before the end of class, another knock appears at the door. The teacher sighs, and Foley leaps to open it.

"Thanks, Tuck," someone mutters.

Her eyes snap up, and once again, her breath is torn away. The boy from earlier drops his purple backpack heavily beside the empty seat. There's something wrong, however, and it takes her a few moments to place it.

His black eye is gone. The split in his lip is now a faint, white scar. His knuckles are no longer red, but there are faint signs of scarring. His ice-blue eyes scan her quickly, and he turns them to a notebook handed back to him by his best friend.

"I'll explain anything you don't understand later," Tucker whispers.

"Yeah. Thanks," he locks eyes with her again, noticing that she's listening in. She feels her cheeks flush pink, realizing she's been caught, and she turns her eyes back to her blank notepaper.

The two whisper in another language. The accent reminds her of French, but she's been taking it for years and doesn't recognize anything.

The rest of the class concludes without incident, and she makes her way to the door.

"So…your name is Samantha, right? Samantha Manson?" the blond jock – Dash – leans against the doorway.

"Yeah," she retorts, trying to duck beneath his arm.

"I'm Dash Baxter," he smiles, lowering his arm to block her path, "I'm the star athlete here at Casper High."

"Best quarterback in years," someone adds. She tries to recall his name from when he was called on earlier…Kwan?

"Cool," she deadpans, watching the smooth pride fall from his face.

"Move it," someone growls behind them, "She just moved here, Dash, you'll have plenty of time to flirt with her."

She tenses, recognizing the voice.

"Whoa, look at Fen-toad," Dash sneers, "feeling particularly tough today?"

"No, just pissed off and eager to get to a class on time," he snorts, pushing past Sam.

"Oh, what's got your panties in a twist today, Fen-toenail?" Dash pushes, continuing to block the doorway. Sam glances back at the teacher, who ignores the two with a small shake of his head.

"A blond idiot whose only value is his ability to throw a ball," the black-haired, icy-eyed boy replies flatly, earning gasps around the classroom, "I'm not in the mood today, Dash."

"Oh, Foley was right!" Dash gasps mockingly, "Fenton's really not happy today!"

"Can't blame him, with parents like that," Kwan continues.

She can see Danny's jaw clench, and his hand tightens into a fist, "We're all going to be late to class, Dash," he presses tightly.

"Yeah," the jock sighs, remaining at his post.

Danny sighs, trying to push past. However, Dash places his hand on the thinner boy's chest and shoves him back.

In an instant, the jock yelps in pain as his arm is twisted away, levering him against a desk. Danny keeps a firm grip on the athlete's wrist and glares down.

"I said, I'm not in the mood, Baxter," he growls, letting him go and rushing out the door. Foley follows behind. Dash rubs his wrist, moving it gently in circles.

"When did Fenton learn how to do that?" Kwan asks.

"His mom's a black belt," Dash shrugs, hiding the waver in his voice, "of course he picked up on something."

She rushes out into the hallway before he gets up again, and looks at the next room on her schedule…which is, yet again on the other side of the campus.

Then again, isn't it always?

-BREAK-

Lunch, finally.

She pulls her lunch from her bag – unsure if Amity would have a ultra-recyclo-vegetarian option – and searches for a table to sit at. All other tables are packed, except one.

Danny Fenton and Tucker Foley sit at the very end of the table. She glances around again and makes for the empty seats resignedly.

"Hey," someone takes her shoulder.

"Hi," she replies, her eyes focusing on the girl's yellow headband.

"I'm Valerie Gray," she smiles, "You're the new girl, Samantha Manson, right?"

"Yeah," she answers, uncomfortable. Of course they know her name.

"There's an empty seat by me," she offers, "You know…so you don't have to sit…" her eyes flick to the two boys. Danny eats his food quickly, his plate almost cleared, as though he doesn't have more than thirty minutes to eat. Tucker plays with an old-fashioned PDA.

"Thanks," Sam smiles lightly, allowing herself to be led to another table.

"Fenton's admittedly kind-of cute," someone muses, "he has a bit of the bad-boy vibe sometimes, you know?"

"I think he looks like death warmed-over," her friend retorts.

"I don't think 'warm' is the right word for him," a third snorts, "My hand brushed his one day, and it was like, ice-cold."

"Yeah," the second nods, "he's kind of creepy. You ever get that feeling that he's looking right through you? Like…like he knows what you're thinking?"

"Girls," the first raises her hands, "We're talking appearance only. The messy black hair, the light, cold blue eyes…"

"Yeah," the third muses, "I can see it. Especially if he bulked up a little…he's so skinny. Failing gym."

"If he got some more sleep," the second adds, "…yeah. I'd say he's potentially hot, if you go by looks alone."

"Now…" the first smiles, turning her gaze on Valerie, "Foley's not creepy. An antisocial geek, yeah, but not creepy. What do you think, Val?"

"Why are you asking me?" she retorts.

Sam chews her food mechanically, watching as Danny lays his head on his arms, as though trying to sleep. The girls continue through a list of who she presumes are the local boys, most of them swooning at the mention of Dash.

Speaking of Dash, she's pretending not to notice him making eyes at her across the room. It's not like you're actually attracted to me, she snorts, taking a bite of her tofu sandwich, I'm just fresh meat. Your next conquest.

-BREAK-

The rest of the week sailed by quickly, and she found herself watching Danny Fenton. He would randomly leave in the middle of class, only to return later. Sometimes it was before the end of class – other times, he never made it back to school. Occasionally, Tucker would vanish with him.

Before the end of the week, she'd found a place to sit by herself, a quiet place in a nearby stairwell. Valerie wasn't bad, but listening to the other girls drove her crazy. They had nearly the same conversation every day.

She would read a gothic novel while she ate. Back to the way her life was in New York. It was in that stairwell that she saw her first ghost fight.

-BREAK-

She takes a bit of an apple, and the ground shakes beneath her feet. Green flashes in her peripheral vision. An alarm begins to blare.

"Ghosts on premises. All students, please move away from windows, and retreat to the gym or cafeteria," the vice-principal, a strict teacher named William Lancer, drones into the P.A.

She remains rooted to the spot.

There are two ghosts. One is metallic, with a flaming Mohawk. The other, she recognizes from the internet.

His messy white hair glows in the afternoon sun. His green eyes burn like acid, and his mouth is turned upward in a confident smirk. His entire body is encased in a soft glow.

Phantom.

The two seem engaged in a conversation. An ectoplasmic glow encases Phantom's hand, and missiles sprout from the other ghost's shoulders.

"You should get to somewhere safe," someone pants behind her, startling her into action.

Tucker Foley grins from above her on the stairs.

"What about you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I can handle myself," he replies simply, "At least move up here, further away from the windows. They're almost always the first things gone when things get serious."

"…are they serious?" she motions out the window.

"I don't know," he tilts his head, "Phantom looks like he's in a decent mood today. Then again, when isn't it nice to whoop Skulker's metallic behind?"

"So Skulker's the robot?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "That's right, you're new to Amity Park. Is this your first ghost fight?"

She nods.

"Congrats on popping that cherry," he snorts, "I wonder which side you'll choose?"

"…side?" she presses, taking his advice and moving a little further up the stairs.

"Half the town screams and pitches fits about the fights," he answers, "The other half watch it as rabidly as football. Jerseys and everything. There's actually a time-slot for it."

"They happen that regularly?" she whispers.

"Yeah. If they get desperate, they do some reruns," he shrugs, "Sometimes they manage to find some really old, grungy footage from people's cell phones and clip it all together. Multiple angles, you know?"

"And Phantom's in all of them?"

"No," he laughs, "Almost, but some of them have the Red Huntress. You've heard of her?"

"Yeah," she nods, "The girl with the red suit and the sled?"

"Yep," he agrees, playing on his PDA.

"I've noticed…" she begins, "You're always playing with that thing."

"Her name is Shannon," he sniffs, "She's not a 'thing.'"

"That sounds even worse," she laughs.

"Yeah, it does," he grins, "That's the point."

The end of his long sleeves scrunch back a little, unnoticed by the technogeek. Sam's eyes trace the beginnings of thin scars on his arm. If she squints, she can see another one tracing across his neck, and another on his forehead.

Like Danny, she realizes, whatever he's involved in, Foley's with him.

There are more explosions, and one of the outdoor tables is obliterated, but the ghosts soon disappear, pulling their fight elsewhere. Tucker's eyes flick up from his PDA before he rises to his feet.

"We have Physics together, don't we?" he inquires, "Come on. Let's drop your tray and go."

Her eyes narrow, "You're being awfully friendly."

"You seem cool," he replies simply, "I mean, besides your freaky diet. Meat all the way."

Her nose wrinkles.

"Besides, Dash's been bothering you, right? If I'm there, he'll probably leave you alone and come after me."

"My hero," she deadpans.

"I've known Danny for, like…ever. He's rubbed off on me," they begin down the hallway towards the cafeteria.

"What does that have to do with Danny?" she inquires incredulously.

"Fenton keeps Dash's attention," a passing 'nerd' replies, having overheard as he passed by, "and keeps him away from us."

"The A-List and faculty all think he's a delinquent, but everyone on the lower half of the totem-pole knows better," Tucker clarifies, "They all turn a blind eye to Dash's antics. Can't have the star quarterback suspended or put in detention, can we?"

"Hey, Tuck," one with curly hair raises a hand. His voice is a whisper, and his eyes dart around, searching for the A-List, "Is Danny okay? Dash really whaled on him today."

"He's fine, Lester," Tucker assuages.

"I could swear I heard something crack," he rambles, "You sure he didn't break a rib?"

"He's fine," he repeats firmly, "Danny riles him up because he can take it."

"He shouldn't have to," Sam frowns.

Lester stares down at his shoes, "As awful as it sounds, I'm glad he does," he squeaks, rushing away before she can reply.

"…Lester tried to commit suicide Freshman year," Tucker whispers quietly, watching him leave, "Danny spent three hours in the bathroom talking him out of it. Before then, Danny did what we all did – ducked his head and tried to glide under the radar. But seeing Lester in a bathroom stall, with a razorblade at his wrist…that day, Danny became a sacrifice. He placed himself on the altar and bared his throat. It's how he is," a small smile rises, "instant hero, just add distress. He'll sacrifice his entire future for the sake of someone else's."

-BREAK-

The ghost siren goes off again, several days later. She's outside when it does, and begins to jog for the gym, where a ghost-shield has been raised. However, she can see a ghost with long, blue, flaming hair pacing around the outside. It begins to turn towards her…

She's yanked back, against a firm chest. An ice-cold hand is clapped over her mouth. She begins to struggle.

"Shh…" someone whispers in her ear, "Do you want her to find you?"

She stills, and his grips loosens. She looks up, her heart thudding in her ears, and locks eyes with Danny Fenton.

"You're Sam, right?" he asks, "Sorry," he hastily corrects, seeing her stunned expression, "Samantha. Sorry."

"No," she shakes her head, "I prefer being called Sam. It's totally okay."

"Hey, Dipstick, where are you?" the ghost shouts, plucking absently at her guitar, "I need to get some payback for my boyfriend!"

Danny's eyes flit between Sam and the ghost, and he beckons for the Goth to follow behind. They slip into the football team's storage shed, and he pulls something from behind the shelf.

Her eyes widen, locking onto the array of ghost tech filling the pack in front of her. Danny pulls one from the bottom and clicks a button. A small, green shield falls over the both of them, "That should keep you safe for long enough," he nods.

"So they have things like this scattered around the school?" she whispers, brushing her fingers through the pack.

Danny smiles sheepishly, "No, Tuck and I did this. We have them hidden all over town. Under bridges, behind a loose brick in the park, the air vents of the Nasty Burger…you never know when you might need something, and my mom just assumes that my dad lost something if anything goes missing. I'm not exactly short on ghost-tech," he finishes dryly.

"I've heard," she smirks.

"Yeah…" he rubs at the back of his neck, "look…Sam…I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression last week. I…I wasn't having a good day, and I wasn't expecting to see anyone in the hallway…especially someone I didn't know."

She blinks, remembering the intense encounter in the hallway, "It…It's fine," she stammers.

"Cool," he smiles, sweeping her breath away in a sweep of sunlight.

A loud riff shrieks into the air, and Danny winces, "That shield won't last forever. Take this," he tosses her an earbud, "I'll lead Ember away. Once I give you the sign, I want you to run for the gym."

"You don't need to go," she frowns, "Phantom will show up and take care of it, right?"

An odd expression crosses his face for a moment, but it vanishes before she can identify it, "Maybe, maybe not," he shrugs, "For all we know, he could be tied up with another fight on the other side of town. I'll be fine," he snatches two things from the bag, a small ray-gun and what looks like a soup thermos, "It's not my first party, Sam," he grins, and winks conspiratorially, "But don't tell anyone that. Except Tuck. Tuck knows. Remember, on my signal," he motions to put the earbud in place before vanishing through the door.

"Hey, Ember!" he shouts, "Are you sure you should be dating a guy who has to send his girlfriend out like a hunting dog after getting his ectoplasmic tail-end handed to him?" Sam manages to make out.

She watches through the window as Danny artfully dodges a pink energy fist and fires his weapon. He continues to move slowly backward, luring the songstress into the nearby woods.

Wait…Sam wonders as she watches, didn't those dimwits with Valerie say he was failing gym? She remembers feeling tight muscle behind her only a few minutes earlier, that…that's not possible.

The radio in her ear clicks, "Sam, now! Run for the gym!" Danny shouts, his voice oddly metallic.

She bursts through the door, sprinting for the gym.

"Hide the earbud, and remember," he repeats, "Don't tell anyone."

She crashes through the gym doors, surreptitiously sliding the earbud into her pocket. Tucker notices her, and nods his head. She brushes away the worried teachers, and leans against the wall beside him.

"Tuck…" she pants, "Danny…"

"He'll be fine," he assures, tapping his ear. She realizes he's wearing an earbud like the one in her pocket, but he's attached a wire to it to make it look like he's listening to music, "Phantom's shown up. Danny's camping at one of our safe zones until Ember's cleared out. Don't worry about him."

"Isn't Danny supposed to be failing gym?" she whispers, "I saw him dodging those attacks, Tucker."

He chews his cheek, "we have reasons for failing on purpose," he answers.

"Are you…" she whispers, "Are you guys fighting ghosts? Danny said it wasn't his 'first party'. Is that why he's always disappearing?"

He shifts, "…yeah," he mutters, "Look, you cannot tell anyone."

"How does he do it?" she presses, "You two can't possibly hide everything–"

"Oh," he laughs, watching the ghost shield lift, "You'd be amazed at what a person can hide in Amity Park."

"Still," she frowns, "How…?"

"Let's just say that Danny can get his hands on some pretty impressive technology," Tucker smiles, "If his parents are gone, I can slip into the lab to make any modifications we need. I'm pretty familiar with ecto-weaponry, if I do say so myself. Maddie Fenton keeps a neat filing cabinet, so it's simple to read through the original blueprints."

"So…does this technology include something that can erase black eyes and turn a split lip into a scar within a class period?"

He stumbles over nothing, "When…?"

"The first day of school," she answers, "I saw him in the hallway, before class. When he noticed me, he slipped into the men's room. He was in the middle of wrapping his knuckles."

"No one knows about it," Tucker whispers, "Maybe…maybe Danny will tell you sometime. Maybe…maybe someday, you'll know everything."

His eyes darkened, pain flashing through their depths.

"Everything?"

"Yeah," he croaks, "everything."

-BREAK-

Danny's head shoots up as she sits heavily at the table, allowing her lunch box to thump heavily on the table. His blue eyes travel her like she's some foreign, unidentifiable object. Tucker takes a sip of his milk with raised eyebrows.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asks.

They shake their heads hurriedly.

"I figured I should return this," she places the earbud in front of him, "Sorry I didn't get it back to you before the weekend. I probably should've given it to you," she nods at Tucker, "when we were talking in the gym."

"No problem," Danny grunts, rubbing at the back of his neck, "I was busy with recharging the mini ghost-shield anyway. We have plenty of Fenton-Phones anyhow."

"Oh?" she smirks, "So can I keep it?"

He snatches it from the table before she can reclaim it, "That could be a problem."

She notices Valerie's groups staring her way, but pays no attention to their questioning stares.

"You do realize that sitting with us is like issuing a death warrant for your popularity, right?" Tucker smirks.

"Do I look like I care about things like that?" Sam retorts.

"Well, maybe it'll get Dash to stop looking at you like a piece of meat," Danny shrugs.

"I know!" she hisses, "He's creeping me out. He's been following me around and misquoting poetry. I didn't know that it was possible to butcher 'Death and the Lady'."

Danny laughs, the sound entrancing her, "You're one of the few girls around who doesn't bow to his will. King Dash is perplexed."

"He's going to get my steel-toed boot in his groin if he doesn't back off," she growls.

"Note to self," Danny coughs, "Don't tick off Sam."

"Note copied."

-BREAK-

"Hey, Manson!" someone shouts, "Where's your boyfriend?"

She turns, confused, "Who?"

Dash sneers, "Where's Fen-tina?"

"He is not my boyfriend," she frowns, a small blush rising to her cheeks.

"So, thin and wimpy is your type, huh?" he continues, "Then again, I guess Goths have a thing for skeletons, huh?"

He could throw you across the hallway! She bites her tongue, holding it back. Granted, she hasn't seen the evidence, but his tight abs against her back…she cuts off those thoughts, "No, we just don't like self-centered jocks who can't understand that we're so not interested."

"Oh, so you're admitting you like Fenton?"

"Dash, all I'm saying is that I. Don't. Like. You. I figured you'd get it, seeing as I ignore you, push past you…"

"You're just playing hard-to-get," he scoffs.

"No, Dash," she frowns, storming closer, "I just think you're a bully, and I don't like bullies. I had my fill of them in New York, and they were a lot scarier than you. I'm not one of your cheerleaders – I could step in most of them and not get wet. I don't worship the ground you walk on. You're a big, nasty, tyrannical oaf and I wouldn't spend time with you if you were the last person on Earth!"

"Fenton's not exactly a rose, either," he sneers.

"Oh?"

"He has no future," he continues, "He'll drop out of high school and spend the rest of his life at the Nasty Burger. I guess his sister got all of the good genes. He'll end up a big, fat, clumsy idiot like his dad!"

"Tucker, if that day comes, I want you to shoot me," Danny remarks dryly behind Dash, "Promise."

"Promise," Tucker nods.

"Hey, Fen-toenail!" Dash chuckles, whirling around, "I was just telling your girlfriend here why she should ditch you."

"Girlfriend?"

"I am not his girlfriend!" Sam hisses.

"She is not my girlfriend!" he repeats.

Tucker smirks behind his PDA, "…you know, Dash…this year, your grades are worse than Danny's. I mean, he ditches class a lot, but he always makes it up and gets all of his work done. He hasn't tested below an eighty so far."

"I have an excellent tutor," Danny claps his friend on the shoulder, "One that I don't flirt with," He glares at Dash, "You do realize that Jazz was only using you for a project, right? She was going to write a thesis on 'Tutoring the Un-Tutor-able'…she had to scrap it because her thesis statement was that everyone is tutor-able, and you weren't."

"…you have a sister?" Sam questions, "…and she tutors Dash?"

"Yeah, she's off at college this year. She tried tutoring Dash back in Freshman year. She's pretty smart, but even she couldn't pull it off. He was too busy making eyes at her."

"She's totally hot," Dash smiles.

"If you keep daydreaming about my sister, Dash, I'll be forced to take drastic measures," Danny frowns.

"Like what, going to punch me, Fenton?"

"No, we'll just release this on the internet," Tucker pulls the jock close, showing him something on the PDA. The athlete pales.

"How…?"

"There were cameras there. No one claimed the footage, so Tuck helped himself to it. Not bad, huh?" Danny smiles, "Now, if you'll excuse us," he takes Sam's wrist, his hand ice-cold, and pulls her away.

"Dude, I can't believe you had me use the trump-card," Tucker pouts.

"Keeping his thoughts away from Jazz is worth it," Danny replies simply.

"What is it?" Sam questions.

They grin broadly, "So, there was this time where a ghost virus infected the school," Danny begins, "And everyone was moved to a hospital that was being run by a ghost. Of course, no one knew he was a ghost. Anyway, Tuck and I weren't affected, but we knew something was up with the place. We snuck in and saved the day, no one the wiser. Well, the run-down hospital they were quarantined in had cameras. We managed to get an archived video of Dash sniffling over a soap opera."

"You're joking," she laughs.

"Totally true," Tuck adds, "We have another one of him telling Bertrand – and I quote – 'When she sings "Wind Beneath My Wings," I just go to pieces', end quote."

She clutches at her sides.

"He screamed like a girl when Bertrand transformed into a monster," Danny finishes, "So, technically, we showed only one of the cards in our hands."

"And you've never used it?!"

"I don't like the idea of blackmailing him," Danny scratches at the back of his neck – a nervous tell she's quickly become familiar with.

"You'd rather let yourself get beaten up."

"I want to stay as his only target. Keep him away from everyone else, especially Jazz. You know the deal."

"You must be really close with your sister," she smiles.

"Eh," he shrugs, "she's my sister."

"This is coming from the guy who followed her and threatened to reshape the face of the ghost flirting with her. The guy who kept interrupting their dates."

"He was a ghost, Tuck," Danny defends, "and he was trying to get Jazz to wear his girlfriend's clothes so that said girlfriend could steal her body. I think I was pretty justified!"

"I can't believe I missed out on all of this," Sam sighs sadly, "I mean…I could've moved to Amity back in seventh grade, but my dad turned down the job. They offered him enough this time. Well, if we're honest, I also pitched a fit about moving in the middle of the school year. I don't know why," she snorts, "It's not like I had friends."

"Well," Danny smiles, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight as they emerge outside, "Just stick around, and maybe you'll hear more of our stories."

"Sounds like a plan."