Hello, hello! Welcome to my new multi-chapter story, because I'm horrible and am suffering from some writer's block on Mortified. This is based on both a phic phight prompt by hauntedjoanns and on a tumblr post by shower-phantom-ideas.

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Chapter 1

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Danny stared at Mr Lancer. He couldn't believe his ears. His eyes traced down to the piece of paper in front of him. He couldn't believe that thing, either.

"You're not serious."

"I'm afraid I am," said Mr Lancer.

"But-" spluttered Danny. "But my schedule is full!" He seized the offending piece of paper and waved it around. "I don't have time for a- For a 'fine arts' credit! What even is that?"

Mr Lancer sighed. "I'm aware that you have a full schedule, Mr Fenton." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Of course, if you had more studious in past years, it might not have come to this, but we can't change the past."

Danny suppressed the urge to tell Mr Lancer that wasn't quite true. Mr Lancer didn't know about Danny's unsanctioned extracurricular activities, or his more unusual friends, nor was he aware of the more esoteric properties of natural ghost portals.

"As to what a fine arts credit is," continued Mr Lancer, "the state wants high school graduates to be well-rounded individuals. That means that they want all students to be exposed to art, as well as math, science, history, and English."

"But my schedule is packed with math, science, history, and English," said Danny, speaking through his teeth. "Not to mention PE, and careers." He said the last with venom. His grades had picked up since freshman year as he became more skilled at handling his double (half) life and all the problems that came with it, but he knew he'd never be able to handle a normal job, much less the one he'd wanted for most of his life. He didn't need careers to tell him that, and the class was going to waste valuable time. "Maybe I can skip careers?" he asked, hopefully.

"Careers is required," said Mr Lancer.

Danny slumped back in the chair. It wasn't a big chair, but, unlike his grades, Danny hadn't grown at all since freshman year. He was tiny. "Well, I don't know what I'm going to do, then," he said. He bit his lip. He had worked so hard the past couple of years to get all of his requirements fulfilled. "I guess I'm not going to be able to graduate, because I've got seven required classes, and only six periods to do them in."

Jazz would be so disappointed. She'd spent so much time tutoring him over the past few years. So would Sam and Tucker. They were just as invested in Danny graduating as he was.

"Not necessarily," said Mr Lancer, folding his hands and leaning forward. "I've talked with the rest of the staff and the school board, and we've come up with a solution."

Danny perked up, but refused to get his hopes too high. It might be an online thing, and those hadn't really worked for him in the past. "Yeah? What?"

"You would have to join one of Casper High's extracurricular fine arts clubs," said Mr Lancer, "and make a significant effort in and contribution to the club. Your work would be monitored by the club adviser."

That... wasn't the worst thing, Danny decided. It would be difficult, and it would demolish his free time (ha!) completely, but it sounded possible.

"So," said Danny, "what would, um, count as an art club."

"Fine arts club," corrected Mr Lancer.

Danny got the distinct impression, just from that sentence, that in whatever meeting the teachers had about him, that term got repeated frequently. The teacher coughed, emanating just enough embarrassment for Danny to taste it. He squirmed internally. Embarrassment was not his favorite emotional meal.

"Well, the literature club, the art history club, marching band, and jazz band are all good choices," said Mr Lancer, "but may I suggest the drama club? I may be a little biased, as I am the adviser for the drama club, but I think that it's the best fit for you."

Danny wasn't sure he agreed. He didn't know much about what went on in the drama club, but they did put on plays. Plays, presumably, were a team effort that required commitment, punctuality, being in the right place, at the right time, and not skipping out on a role to go fight ghosts. Danny just wasn't very good at those kinds of things.

On the other hand, he couldn't play an instrument, any instrument, and he definitely didn't have the time to learn. Not to mention that any instrument he was given would be trashed the first time a ghost showed up while he had it, and he was fairly confident that musical instruments were expensive.

"Who are in charge of the literature and art history clubs."

"Mr Cullen is in charge of both of them," said Mr Lancer.

Danny cringed. Mr Cullen hated him. Danny didn't really blame him for that, he was a terrible student, but still. It was exhausting to share space with so much animosity.

"Didn't there used to be a choir club?"

Mr Lancer sighed. "Choir was mostly seniors last year," he said. "The remaining choir members have agreed to join drama so that we can do a musical."

Danny bit his lip. "Can I think about it for a bit?" he asked.

Mr Lancer looked disappointed, but he leaned back, and said, "Of course. You have until Friday. That's when club sign-ups end. Can you send in Mr Foley when you get back to class."

Danny nodded, and got up to leave. He stopped at the door. "Thank you, Mr Lancer."

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"What am I gonna do?" Danny's moan was muffled by his comforter, which his face was buried in.

"Well," said Sam, "I guess you're going to join a club."

"I don't have time for a club."

"You don't have time for another year of school, either."

"Sam," scolded Jazz. "Danny, you'll be fine." Jazz's college didn't start for almost another month. "I was in a couple clubs. They don't take that much time."

"You quit your clubs the year after you started helping us with ghosts," said Danny.

"That's true," said Jazz. She sat down next to Danny on his bed. "But Tucker's still part of a club. He's doing fine."

"Yeah," said Tucker, scrolling through a ghost file on Danny's computer, "but you don't actually have to be physically present at tech club meetings, and I have some really well-trained bots to cover for me."

"How did you guys get fine arts credits, anyway?" asked Danny, rolling over to stare at his ceiling.

"Poetry elective," said Sam.

"Sewing class," said Tucker. "It's come in handy more than I ever thought it would, that's for sure."

"Pft. Yeah," said Danny, fingers tracing a scar on his hip. It had needed stitches.

"You should pick the drama club," said Sam.

"Because it's Mr Lancer?"

"Partially," said Sam. "He's way better than Mr Cullen, anyway. But the thing is, with drama, there's a lot more than just the acting. You could make the sets, or something like that, and that way you wouldn't have to be consistently there, but you could still contribute. You could sneak in at midnight after patrol, if you couldn't manage any other time. And you can draw, so." She shrugged.

"I guess," said Danny, sitting up. He sighed. "I managed to wheedle the homework schedule for the next couple of months from Mrs Lee. Who wants to help me get a head start with math before the ghosts get in the w-" Danny gasped and exhaled blue. "I just had to jinx it, didn't I?"

"Pretty much," said Sam.

"I'll get the thermos," said Jazz.

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Danny elbowed the ghost monkey in the face. Its not-quite-human body plan had thrown him off at first. He could deal easily with human and not-human-at-all body types, but sometimes he forgot to compensate for small differences. It hadn't taken too long in this case, however. It might have been helped by the fact that the monkey didn't have human-level intelligence, which was a bit odd. Usually animals got smarter in death, especially ones that had been pretty smart in life. Maybe the monkey hadn't been dead all that long.

Not that that really mattered. Danny blasted the monkey in the face, and it went plummeting to the ground. Sam sucked it into the thermos halfway there. Danny sighed, and began to descend. The fight had been a fast one, at least.

Something landed on his head, and he stopped. Two more things landed on his shoulders. He sighed, but smiled. "Hey, guys," said Danny. The things, which happened to be birds, a robin, a sparrow, and a crow, twittered and cawed at him.

Ever since his Accident, some animals had become very friendly with him. That included dogs, cats, rats, bats, purpleback gorillas, and a variety of birds.

The birds in particular had taken a liking to flying with Danny. These were only the first of a whole flock. Well. A whole, small flock. Only a couple dozen flew with Danny regularly, during the day. A different group, mostly owls, flew with him at night. Of course, small ghosts also had a tendency to fly with Danny at night.

Danny touched down in an alley, and returned to human form. Jazz, Sam, and Tucker joined him there a moment later.

"I'm guessing you won't be coming back home right away?" said Jazz, indicating his feathery companions.

Danny made a face, as the crow began to tug on his hair. "You know they won't leave me alone now until I fly with them."

"You're such a pushover," said Sam, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. Her tone was amused, however.

"It'll be a short flight," said Danny, defending himself. "Then we can get back to homework. I won't be able to fly with them as much I have been now that school's started."

"It's fine," said Jazz. "Go do your thing. We'll get things set up at home."

"Thanks. I'll only be ten, fifteen minutes." He went ghost, and lifted off.

"Have fun," said Sam.

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Danny bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. It was stupid to feel like this. He did genuinely frightening things on a daily basis. He fought ghosts. Like Sam had said, he wouldn't be actually acting. He wouldn't be up in front of people.

In any case, all that he was doing today was telling Mr Lancer that he was going to be joining the club.

Correction: that they were going to be joining the drama club.

Sam was convinced that he would crash and burn without supervision. Which was fair. He just would have preferred it if she had described it differently. Like, if she said he would probably have a panic attack if he was left without at least one other member of Team Phantom, considering who else was in drama.

… No, that wasn't much better, actually.

"Danny," said Sam. "Just go in. It's just Mr Lancer, and we're missing lunch."

"Okay, okay," said Danny. He opened the door to the classroom, knocking as he did so. "Mr Lancer?"

"Come in, Mr Fenton," said the teacher, looking up from his computer. "Have you made up your mind about which club you're going to join?"

Danny nodded, and stepped into the room. "Yeah," he said. "I- and, um, Sam, too," he said as Sam followed him into the room. "We've decided to join the drama club."

Mr Lancer's face lit up. "Great!" He opened one of his filing cabinets and pulled out some papers, then used his chair to roll over to Danny and Sam. "You just need to fill out these forms and get your parents to sign them."

"Er, I think you gave me a few extras," said Danny, comparing his stack to Sam's pair.

"Yes," said Mr Lancer brightly. "I know. I'm hoping at least one will survive your house."

"Oh. Uh, good call," said Danny, wincing slightly as he remembered all of the... less than intact assignments and papers he had turned in.

"Hey, can I get one of those, too?"

"I thought you weren't going to join?" Danny asked Tucker.

"My club apparently volunteered me to be the camera guy, sooooo..." Tucker sighed. "That's what I get for not showing up at the in-person meetings," he mumbled under his breath.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Mr Lancer. "I always try to get one of you kids to record our progress. You don't have to show up at every drama club meeting, but try to attend regularly."

"Sure," said Tucker, resignation obvious in his voice.

Danny grinned and put an arm around Tucker's shoulders. "Come on, Tucker. It won't be that bad. You'll be with us!"