Prologue

I can doubtlessly say you'd be hating your life if you were me too. For as long as I remember, everything about my very existence has been overwhelmingly frustrating and unfortunate. I suppose it started around the time I was born. In this century, not many women die in child birth at all, but my mother, unfortunately had the luck to be one of the very few. Sometimes I like to think I inherited her horrible luck. That left my father (a red-headed man who looks much like myself and would do absolutely anything for money) to name me. Wesley Oliver Weston. WOW. He gave me the initials WOW. Apparently he didn't even figure that out until the time I was five, when I came running home from the mean eight-year olds on the playground who had ridiculed me for my name. My Dad, as clueless as he was, told me that it didn't matter what my names spelled out. After all, WOW was a cool word, right? Let's just say, five-year old me didn't think so either.

My bad luck was constantly present throughout my childhood. Most of the time it was due to Dad being too busy with his work to notice that his son was dangling out of a tree about to break his arm or that I accidentally dropped an entire pot of boiling water on my self (hey, one must learn how to make macaroni at a young age if he wants to survive). It was the worst by the time I was seven. At that point, I think I had my own seat at the Children's Hospital. That was also the year that Dad took up working as a secretary for a rich crackpot in Wisconsin, the millionaire Vlad Masters. From the second Dad introduced me to him, I knew something was off about that pretentious douche-bag... I just couldn't place what.

Over the years I'd gotten used to misfortune after misfortune. In fact, after I was the only one who showed up at my ninth birthday party, I'd come to expect it. As a Sophomore, I was perfectly content with being the socially ignored (but not bullied nor popular) basketball player. But one day that all changed... and not for the better.

For everything to make sense, there's one thing you have to understand about Amity Park in general: everyone believes in the existence of ghosts. In this town, saying that you don't believe in ghosts is like saying that the Earth is flat or that the sun revolves around us. In any other place, you wouldn't have so many people so convinced in the paranormal... well, in Amity Park it's normalized. Quite literally. The entire town is frequently haunted by various ghosts. We actually have our own ghost fighting superhero who keeps the other bad ghosts at bay in the ghost dimension or something. And that white-haired, spandex donning, glorified bedsheet is where all my problems start.

Alright, so this is my first try at a Danny Phantom fanfiction, not to mention my first story on here. Usually I'm used to writing on Wattpad, but many of my friends already know my account on there so I've sorta stopped writing on there because of them. Besides, I like how is less like a social networking website (which Wattpad reminds me of) and more focused on writing.

Also, for Wes's character I'm basically taking a bunch of Tumblr headcanons and combining them all in one story. So if you see something that is yours or someone you know, I am not claiming to own the idea. DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN DANNY PHANTOM, OR ANY IDEAS FOR WES THAT AREN'T ALREADY MINE. Oh and this should be the only time I write in 1st POV for this story.