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How To Ruin Everything

Lesson 1:

Make a pact with the enemy.

Everybody has one. Take a moment to think real hard. Sometimes your true enemies are the people closest to you. You will need to create a support network that, at that crucial moment, can be counted upon to kick you when you're down. Reach out to those that take great pride in destroying you as they will be the ones that keep you honest on your path to total annihilation.

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Just like most ghost fights, this one has escalated from ridiculous to absolute chaos. Between the uprooted cars and the huge hole in the school's roof I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. I know deep down in my gut I'll get blamed for this— or— Phantom will get blamed for this. Thank god for dual identities, because there's no way my allowance is going to cover all this damage.

Below me Sam and Tucker hack away at vines that sprout from the cement like water from a hydrant. Sam's more handy with a hatchet than Tucker. Although, I'm pretty sure that….

"Are you apologizing!?"

She sends me a withering look, blood running down her pale cheek where a thorn got too close for comfort.

"No!" She scissors a vine and then— there it is— a small whispered 'sorry'. She is. She's apologizing for cutting this ghost-plant apart. A ghost-plant that's currently doing thousands upon thousands of dollars in property damage. I stare at her for a long moment, hardly believing it. "It's not the plant's fault you dumped the ecto-filtrator goop on it!" she bellows at me, seeing my stunned expression as she slices away with renewed spirit.

I roll my eyes. Here we go. I should have known I'd never hear the end of this. "Yes, poor plant. Maybe we should just ask it politely to stop."

"You should be thanking me" —she swings— "for helping you" —she ducks underneath a giant leaf— "after you caused this whole mess in the first place!"

"Uh guys—?" Tucker pipes, wriggling as a vine gets his ankle and pulls him down.

"How was I supposed to know it would mutate into this thing?" I try blasting apart the vine that's trying to sneak up behind Tucker and wring his neck. It scampers back, smoking.

"You shouldn't pollute. EVER," Sam yells obstinately. "It's WRONG."

"Yes OKAY in retrospect it was a bad idea! What do you want me to say?"

"GUYS—" Tucker bellows. "Can we fight about this later?"

"Sorry would be a good place to start," Sam hisses.

"Fine. I'm s—" Two steely arms wrap around my neck and my arms twist behind me. I gasp, surprised, before my throat's choked and I fall back heavily into a plush human body.

"Gotcha," a familiar voice growls into my ear.

"HELP!" Tucker yells and I watch as both Sam and Tucker are swallowed by the sea of leaves and stems. Shit. I squirm in her grasp, feeling her feet slip slightly on her hoverpad. Of course. Just as a cough follows a cold, I should have known she'd show up the minute she heard about a ghost fight. I struggle, pinned through ten years of jiu jitsu.

Oh right. Duh. Ghost powers.

I phase, slipping out from her, and rocket a few feet away. Behind her the demon rose bush is reaching its full height. My brain goes silent as I take in the vision before me: Valerie Grey's curved figure in a tight jumpsuit, the distant spark of power lines being downed showering her in a halo of glitter, behind her dozens of blooming, faintly glowing, red ghost-roses. We broke up over two months ago and I'm not over her. She is glorious.

Then she's pointing a gun at me, unsure as to why I'm just staring at her with my jaw unhinged.

"What's the matter, ghost?" she asks as the gun whirls to life, "Hit your head or something?"

"No, but you're about to," I tell her.

"...What?"

A ten foot rose drops on top of her— too top heavy to stay upright on its branch— and she screams, kicking and punching different karate moves, as she's knocked off of her hoverpad and sent spiraling back down to earth, red petals swirling behind.

I start to nosedive after her, but her hoverpad slows her fall and she tumbles through the open roof of the school gym into a tangled nest of vines. I can still hear her screaming (—get OFF me, stupid plant!—) but I know she's probably trapped, just like Sam and Tucker, in the undergrowth. Good. At least she's out of my hair for the time being so I can do my job.

It takes a considerable amount of flying around and almost all of my ectoplasmic energy to cut through the largest stalks and suck up the ghostly goop that's flowing through the plant's stems. As soon as most of the energy is contained within my thermos the plant stills, no longer writhing with some kind of strange sentience. Instead it shrinks several stories into a relatively normal— albeit enormous— rose bush.

I land, panting, as I pick my way through where I think Tucker and Sam are.

"Guys?" I call out, using the last bits of my energy to blast through a few of the now-dead vines. I feel my heart start thudding and my body transform back without my permission. The hold on my ghostly self slips through my exhausted fingertips.

"Danny—" Sam's voice. Her hand is barely visible underneath a large rose leaf, "Over here—"

I shove the leaf away to reveal Sam's face. She's still glaring at me.

"Get me out," she demands. She waggles her hand around.

"Alright hang on." I yank at the vines, finding them nearly impossible to break without the use of my ectoblasts.

"You really need to do more push ups," Sam notes dryly as she watches me struggle.

"Do you want me to leave you here?" I mutter.

She frowns, but holds her tongue. Instead her smeared black lipstick is pursed into a loud grimace. With a few sharp hacks I free her arms and her ankles and she shoves herself the rest of the way out, hatchet still in tow.

"Tuck?" Sam calls, swirling the hatchet in her palm. With a few quick decisive swings she clears off most of the area where Tucker had been, finding him a good foot underneath the vines. Together we yank him out.

"Ew— gross." He shivers, trying to dust all the dirt and leaves off of him, "I need a shower."

"You guys alright?" I peer at them. Besides a few minor cuts they look to be okay.

"We'd be better if you hadn't dumped haunted crap into the earth," Sam grumbles.

"You're right." I hold up my palms in surrender, "I messed up." I look around at the mess. "Big time," I add quietly.

She peers at me for a long moment before she nods, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She takes the full thermos out of my hand and jiggles it around.

"You sure you got all of it?"

"Think so."

Sam begins to pick her way out of what used to be the high school parking lot. Now it looks like a scene out of Sleeping Beauty. Rows and rows of gnarled dead thorns and vines crack through the pavement. This is going to be a nightmare to clean up. I feel a thread if guilt worm around in my stomach at the thought.

Tucker follows. I start to as well before I pause, spinning and peering back at the gym.

"What?" Tucker stops.

"Uhh—" I hesitate, "I just need to check on something. You guys go ahead."

Sam is staring at me.

"Valerie?" she asks, her tone strange, clipped. "She'll be fine."

"She might need help, though."

I'm not sure what Sam's problem is with Valerie. Despite the whole "I want to tear Phantom apart" thing Valerie has been perfectly civil. Besides, I know that it isn't as simple as that. Sam's never that simple. If the only reason Sam hates Valerie is because of her preoccupation with trying to waste my ghostly alter ego then Sam should also— by extension— hate my parents, which she doesn't. They get along fine.

Tucker's looking between the two of us, anticipating another fight, but Sam merely chucks the hatchet at me. It bounces a few times through the brush before landing near my feet.

By the time I bend to pick it up Sam's already stalking down the street, not looking back. I know she'll be mad at me for at least a day. I sigh.

Tucker gives me a small grin and a shrug.

"Clueless," he mutters. "See you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," I echo.

After the pair of them leave I spin around to take in the building. Already I can hear sirens in the distance. I should consider myself lucky that no one was around to witness my faux pas of a transformation, but I really don't want to hang around when the authorities get here.

With grim determination I begin to hack through all the vines to get to the gym door. Already dragonflies and other bugs have started to buzz around inside the gym, attracted to the sickeningly sweet scent of the roses. I pluck one from a vine as I make my over to Valerie. Her head is the only thing exposed. The rest of her is tucked underneath a mountain of plant-life. Her battle suit is halfway retracted— broken, goggles missing from her face, her massive hair is spilling out, entangling in twigs.

"M'lady," I greet, brandishing the rose, as I cut my way closer to her, "Looks like you're in quite the bind."

"Danny?!" Valerie looks terrified. I pause for a moment, confused, before I realize I'm not supposed to know about her ghost-hunting part time job.

I feign a shocked expression. "Valerie? You're the Red Huntress?"

"You don't sound very surprised," she notes. Her eyes narrow into suspicious glinting green beetles.

I shrug. "I might have figured it out around the same time you broke up with me," I admit.

"Why didn't you say something? Wait— Why are you even here?"

"I saw you fall. I was gonna cut you free," I tell her, attempting to twirl the hatchet in my hand heroically. Instead I fumble and send it clattering to the floor, narrowly missing my foot.

"Easy there, Davy Crockett." Her head tilts. "How are you always wherever Phantom is?"

I glance up. "Phantom did this?" My eyebrows raise in mock outrage. "What a monster."

"Ha ha, very funny," Valerie deadpans, struggling against the vines, "I know you and your little crew think he's some kind of hero. But seriously. You're, like, always one step behind him."

"I have great timing."

"Or maybe you're helping him," Valerie hisses.

Close, but not quite.

"Hmmm…" I hum, picking up the hatchet once again, "Or maybe I just was getting out of detention when this whole fiasco happened."

Valerie contemplates that for a long moment before she seems to believe me. It's a believable lie. As of late I've spent all of my free time in detention.

"Okay, get me out." Valerie tugs a bit, squirming.

I take a few steps closer to her before I stop, struck with sudden inspiration. I'm not sure where this idea comes from, but it seems to beam down from above and sizzle through my brain. Before I grapple full control of my lips it's already tumbling out of my mouth.

"I'll get you out if you teach me." I blurt.

"Excuse me?" Valerie bristles, "Teach you what?"

"To fight." I remember her jujitsu hold around my neck. I also remember how Sam all but laughed at my failed attempts to wrestle the vines off of her with my bare hands. Tucker and Sam are right— I need to stop relying on my powers. I need to stop relying on my intangibility to get me out of tight situations.

"…Why?"

"With all these ghost attacks happening it seems like a valuable skill to learn," I reason.

Valerie puffs a bit of her hair out of her face. "I don't know. You're kind of a lost cause."

Lost cause? Lost cause?

"I could help you? Hunt ghosts?"

"No way. It's too dangerous. You could get hurt." There's a sudden shimmer in her eyes and I blink, lowering the axe.

"Wait— is that why you broke up with me?" I ask.

"No," she snaps. "I have two jobs, school, and a forty five minute commute everyday thanks to the ghost kid— not to mention all my old friends won't even speak to me—"

"Sounds lonely," I interrupt, "but what does all that have to do with me?"

She stares at me with big luminous green eyes. The urge to hold her close almost overwhelms me, but I keep my distance. I'm perpetually too nervous to ever do that.

"I just—" Her voice quiets into barely a whisper. I take a few steps closer until we're only inches apart. "I just have a lot of things going on right now. A lot of dangerous things. Ok, yeah, maybe not putting you in danger was one of the reasons. Maybe a big reason— the reason—"

I laugh softly. The irony of this is too much.

Her expression hardens. "What's your problem?" she mutters, her face darkening, "I just poured out my—"

"This whole thing is funny." My hand automatically rubs the back of neck and I glance away.

"Why?" She frowns, disgruntled.

"You do know my parents are paranormal experts, right? You didn't think for a minute that I may know a thing or two about ghosts?"

Valerie pauses and eyes me like some kind of ghost encyclopedia. "What all do you know?" she asks slowly.

"Oh, I know lots of things." I smile. I know more about ghosts than any living person in this entire city. "I even know how to use all of my parent's equipment."

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"You WHAT?!"

I wince, poking a finger into my ear.

"Let me get this straight." Sam leans back in her chair and runs her palms along her skirt to smooth it down. "You told Valerie Grey— who wants to murder you— that you'll trade ghost hunting equipment and insider ghost knowledge for martial arts lessons?!"

"Well when you say it like that…"

Tucker stares at me, dumbfounded. "Dude," he deadpans, "this sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Keep your enemies close and your friends closer," I tell him sagely.

"It's 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' I swear to god..." Sam hisses, dissolving into grumblings.

"Really?" I blink, "That works even better, then." I eye Tucker with a suggestive waggle of my eyebrow.

Tucker raises a hand for a high-five.

"What? No." Sam breaks in between the two of us. "There is no high-five-ing. No fist bumping. No bro-shakes-"

"—What's a bro-shake?—"

"Danny." Sam grabs my hands and shakes them a bit to get my attention. "This is serious."

"I know," I tell her, feeling vaguely offended. "I am serious." I've been serious, always, about how I feel for Valerie.

"You can't possibly think that giving Valerie more ammunition against you is a good idea."

"Half my parents stuff doesn't work anyways. Besides, at least now I know what weapons she has instead of her getting all this stuff from another source. In the end it's almost safer."

Sam's staring at me like I just recited Shakespeare in pig latin. Like some sort of horrendous travesty just took place.

"You can't be with her, Danny. It doesn't work. It won't work," she says apologetically. It's her tone of voice and the certainty that's held within her statement that sets me off.

"Why not?" I challenge.

"I don't see how it's any of our business who Danny wants to date," Tucker says.

"Any of our—?!" Sam sputters, face beet red, "Hello?! She tried to kill you tonight— or am I the only one that saw that? Am I the only one concerned? Tucker?"

Tucker shifts about uncomfortably in his seat before he nods, siding with her.

"She has it out for Phantom," I correct, "not Fenton."

"Enlighten me. Is there supposed to be some sort of difference?" Sam asks.

"Look. Maybe once she starts hanging out with me again I can get her to finally see that not all ghosts are bad. That Phantom isn't bad. Maybe, eventually, I'll be able to tell her the truth about me. In the meantime I'll learn how to fight, keep a close eye on her, feed her semi-buggy FentonWorks guns, and keep her away from whoever is giving her all her other equipment."

Tucker turns back to Sam, waffling. "He makes some good points," he says.

"So you're just going to keep her in the dark? Use her like some selfish teenage boy? Until what? What happens when she finds out? What happens then? You think she'll still like you?" Sam accuses, voice raised, "Your whole relationship is founded on lies."

I find myself standing out of the chair, my eyes glowing softly in the dark light of Sam's gothic bedroom. Sam's words feel like they've impaled me in the chest. "I don't know what happens," I tell her darkly. "But neither do you. I care about her and I'm going to try. Try to get her to understand that Phantom isn't evil. Cause that's all I can do: Try."

I'm out of her room, the door furiously slamming shut behind me, as I barrel my way down her steps and out her front door. I completely miss the exchange that happens in my wake.

The quiet: "This isn't just a passing fling, Sam. You're going to lose him if you keep yelling at him over this." The sullen: "That's what I'm afraid of." Tucker's soft: "Afraid of it not being a fling or afraid of losing him?" The cracked, wet, reply: "Both."

tbc

So, bear with me guys. This is my first attempt at a dramatic comedy. Well, technically it's a comedy, drama, romance, friendship, angst, friendship? story, in that order. This entire story was a result of balancing out my more darker and bleak stories. Namely Little Fires. I have about half of it written, but expect updates to be a bit slow. The one thing this story has taught me is that it's both hard and easy to write comedy. You really have to be in the mood. My goal is a chapter a month. Grey Ghost is my eternal weakness. It's so fun to write. Shout out to my wonderful beta, HappyLeif, who did a wonderful job of editing this thing.