Oh…hi guys. I know you're probably expecting an update to "We're Not Lovebirds". But you got this. Don't shoot! *ducks*

People have been requesting a sequel…so here it is. It is essential that you read "I Used to Love ThreeDay Weekends", because I'll be referencing it a lot in here.

Other than that…enjoy!

-ZG

#

Sometimes, I like to think that Fate—or Clockwork or whoever is controlling my life—likes to surprise me.

I mean, seriously. My life, as of recently, has been a bunch of plot twists. Let's do a recap:

I had an accident (no, not that kind of accident).

That accident gave me ghost powers.

My parents have the amazing hobby of trapping and/or experimenting on spectral beings.

Therefore, I am a ghost living amongst ghost hunters.

I also believe the Ghost Writer loves irony.

And, for a whole year, neither of my parents knew about who I was. In fact, they hated me. I don't blame them, though. I'm usually the kind of hero who causes a lot of collateral damage. Not to mention, I haven't been exactly immaculate when I reached my lowest points. So they had made it their goal to capture the ever-elusive and ever-good looking (at least that's what I like to think) Danny Phantom, also known as Inviso-Bill.

Don't call me Inviso-bill.

And I was actually okay with that. Keeping a secret was kind of, really. I wasn't just Danny Fenton, the kid who broke everything he touched and was the son of the town's local whack-jobs. I was Danny Phantom, the badass ghost kid who kicked butt and carried a thermos around everywhere he went. Leading a double life is pretty cool.

So telling my mom I had ghost powers was kind of a big step for me.

Sam and Tucker already knew. I mean, they were there when it happened. And Jazz…she just sort of found out on her own. I never really had to confront anyone about my powers before.

I'm sort of just glad my mom didn't shoot me when I told her.

I'd tell you about the whole story about how I came to telling my mom, but it's a whole eight chapters long.

My main focus right now is telling my dad.

The van from Search and Rescue rolls up to our house. They had us all dressed up in the jumpsuits and took some of our vitals. I had to overshadow the doctor who found out that my body temperature was below hypothermic.

In all honesty it's been kind of awkward, my mom now knowing. She continuously asked me questions when the paramedics let us chill in the back of the van. I told her the truth about everything, for the most part. She doesn't need to know about the whole "future me that kills everybody" just yet.

We get out of the van and thank the Search and Rescue people.

"So what do you plan on telling them?" Mom asks. We're still outside of the house.

"Why are you asking me?" I inquire.

Mom shrugs. "You've been able to go save the world without me knowing. Obviously you have experience in the lying front."

Ouch. She's going to be holding a grudge on this one, isn't she? "Hey, no more lies, I promise." I pause. "We'll just say we got lost after the R.V. broke down. And Jazz—well, I can tell what actually happened later. But she's probably going to freak out, being the overprotective older sister and all."

"R.V. breaking down," Mom recaps. "Got lost. That's good enough."

"Enough?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I had experience on the lying front."

"Yes, but you don't think I thought you were actually 'studying', do you?" She shakes her head. "I just thought you and Sam…well, obviously that isn't true now, is it?"
My face turns bright red. I gulp. "So let's do this."

"You are going to tell your father at some point," she tells me. "He can't be left out of the loop."

"I'll tell him when the right moment comes," I say.

"Oh, sweetie," Mom says in her 'you-are-so-cute-but-you're-wrong' voice. "Then it's going to be one long year."

I scowl. "Jazz and Dad are waiting for us," I remind her. "Let's go."

We walk up the steps and I open the door with the key under the place mat. The minute I open the door I collide with something—or someone—giving me a hug that's practically squeezing whatever's left of my life out of me.

"Danny, I was so worried!" Jazz says. She breaks the hug, leaving me with a couple bruised ribs. "I haven't been able to sleep since Search and Rescue called about finding you."

"Jazz, we're fine," I tell her. "We got patched up and they had some food for us."

Mom and Dad are having a reunion of their own, which I choose to look away from should I not want to spend a couple years in therapy.

"I'm so glad you two are safe," my father says. "How did you end up in the woods, anyway?"

"We, uh, we got lost after R.V. ran out of gas," Mom explains sweetly.

"Funny," my dad says. "I filled it up before you two left."

"Well, obviously there's nothing to worry about now, dear." She clears her throat. "So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to just go change back into my normal jumpsuit. These cotton ones aren't very comfortable."

She walks towards the stairs and shoots me a look that says "you know what you need to do". I gulp.

"So, Danny my boy!" Dad booms. "Braving it out in the woods, like a man! Did you see any ghosts?"

"Uh, no," I lie. "Not really."

His whole being just sort of…sags. "Too bad. If you'd have captured one I could try out my new project I'm working on!"

"Project?" I ask, my voice getting a little higher. "What project?"

"The Fenton Anti-Ecto Projecto," he answers. "It releases a sonic wave that weakens any ghost within a five mile radius. Still has a couple kinks to work out—the lab is a bit of a mess—but once it's done we can snatch any ghost we want any time with no trouble."

"Oh," I say. "Great."

"Ah, well, maybe I can test it out later," he continues, patting me on the back. "Maybe tonight we can g hunt for a test subject, like that ghost boy!"

"Yeah," I agree. "Maybe."

He then proceeds to hug me. "It's good to know you're back safe and sound, son."

"Thanks, dad," I say guiltily. Sorry, Mom. Can't tell him just yet.

He pulls away. "Well, back to the lab!"

"Okay," I respond, still a little bit in shock.

"Don't worry, Danny," Jazz consoles. "Dad's inventions almost never work."

Oh, like the Jack o' Nine Tails? The Thermos? The Ghost Gauntlets? THE PORTAL? "Yeah," I agree. Man, I'm having a hard time forming full sentences. "It's nothing to worry about. But I better just keep a close eye on him, just to make sure it doesn't, you know, actually become a success."

She pats me on the back. "Why don't you go to your room and rest a little bit? I'm sure you didn't sleep much, being stuck in the woods and all."

In truth, it's the first time in months I've gotten over five hours of sleep. But I just nod. I can tell her later. I don't need her to freak out in the living room. Dad might hear. And I want that sonic machine out of here before I tell him.

"Okay," I comply. Mindlessly, I walk up the stairs. After walking up them partially rip to shreds it just becomes routine. The second I set my foot on the first step my brain can shut off and I can easily make my way to my room without making a single sound. I know which floorboards creak and the spots where they creak the loudest.

You could I've memorized my sneak-out route.

I'm halfway to my room when someone grabs by the shoulder. My first reaction is to fight since, you know, there's a constant attempt to kill/capture me. But I fight the instinct. I'm at home and everything is fine.

But that still doesn't stop me from jumping and squealing a little.

I turn to see my mom. "What?"

"You didn't tell him, did you?" she asks with a slight smirk. But she also looks a little sad.

I relax and shake my head. "No. Not yet. It just didn't seem like the right time."

"When is it going to be the right time?" mom asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. These things need to be told during the right setting. I told you because it sort of fit. It's not like I can just walk up to him and say 'Oh hey, Dad. Guess what? You know that ghost kid you want to rip apart molecule by molecule? It turns out to be your own son! Tada!'" I shake my head. "It just doesn't work like that. You're still getting used to it."

She nods. "Okay. But you need to tell him sometime this week."

"This week?" I repeat. "But that's so soon! Couldn't it be, like, this month? Or whenever you feel like it?"

"One week, mister," Mom warns. "Or I tell him myself. Danny, you can't put these things off."

I slump. "Yeah, I know."

Mom smiles and hugs me. "Now go and get started on your homework."

I nod.

#

The nightlife in Amity Park has depleted in the past year, mostly because of the ghosts. All the clubs and drug dealers sort of disappeared once the spirits of the dead started roaming the streets. So the city is eerily quiet once the sun goes down. Though it's not a rule, there's a set curfew that everybody has to be home before midnight.

Except for me, of course.

I'm sleeping peacefully in my bed when I'm started by the cold culminating in my chest. It's like someone stuck an ice pack in my lungs. It travels up my throat and sends a chill up my back that travels through every nerve in my body, effectively waking me up. The cold in my throat escapes as a bit of blue mist.

I immediately, jump out of my bed, prepared for an attack. But my room is empty. I look out of my window.

"BEWARE, FOR I AM THE BOX GHOST!" I hear from outside. "FEAR ME AND MY CUBIC CARDBOARD WEAPONS OF TERROR!"

I smile and revisit that same chill that travels around my body, only stronger. In the mirror on my door, any person in Amity would immediately recognize the image to be Danny Phantom, lurking mysteriously in Danny Fenton's room. Lucky for both of my halves no one sees that. Could you imagine the headlines? The National Enquirer would freak.

I look at the clock. 3 AM.

"THE ENTIRE CITY WILL BOW TO ME AND MY SHIPPED ORDERS OF DOOM!"

Home sweet home.

#

So what did you think? Was it a good start? A bad start? It's kind of only a prologue, but yeah.

I'll update my one-shot series once an idea clicks. I've been trying to do sequels for some of the ones I've already made but they're not working. Oh well. You'll just have to live with this.

Don't forget to review and tell me if I nailed it or failed it!

Salutations!

-ZG