Archive of Our Own

“Guys, mark this down as possibly the best day of my life.”

Bouncing in place on the sidewalk just outside Casper High, Tucker’s wearing an excited look that Sam knows too well. It means either he’s got some scheme to get a girlfriend that he’s delusional enough to think might work or he’s got his hands on some fancy new tech and can’t wait to bore her and Danny with the details.

She glances at Danny, but he seems just as out of the loop. “So why are we writing in our non-existent calendars?”

“Uh, because the new foreign exchange student arrives today!” Tucker stares expectantly at them, then sighs when they both shrug. “The girl from France? The one who’s going to spend the next semester here? Don’t you guys get it?”

Sam scrunches up her face and pretends to think. “Let me guess. You’re excited to learn about the culture and history of France from someone who grew up there?”

Danny grins. “Nah, Sam, he’s clearly hoping she’s brought some French chocolate to share.”

“No, you guys!” Tucker pauses. “Okay, actually the chocolate sounds nice. I hear the French make it fancy. But that’s not why I’m excited.” He leans in, like he’s imparting a big secret. “This girl doesn’t know anything about me. She doesn’t know everyone in school thinks I’m a tech geek! I could be the mysterious American stranger that sweeps her off her feet- hey!”

His words cut off with a startled yelp as Dash walks by and casually kicks Tucker’s feet out from under him. He ends up flat on his back, blinking up at the sky while Dash snickers and says, “No way, Sucker, you’ve got nerd stink all over you.”

Sam sighs and stretches out her hand. Tucker grabs onto it. “Up and at ‘em, Tuck.”

Tucker groans as she and Danny help him up. Then his eyes widen. For a second Sam thinks the fall actually did some damage and feels a spike of worry. Then he says, “There she is!”

Sam glances in the direction he’s staring and sees a girl with a black beret and turtleneck, surrounded by what looks like half the football team. From this distance it’s hard to tell if she looks flattered or annoyed by the attention.

Tucker adjusts his own beret. His chin goes up. “I don’t care what Dash says. Right now is my chance.” He stares at the new girl, and then at the jocks surrounding her, and deflates. “Okay, uh, later. Later is my chance.”

Danny pats his shoulder. “Good luck.”

Over the course of the next few periods, Tucker learns a few things about the new exchange student.

First, from her own lips as she introduced herself at the start of history class, that her name is Juliette. Second, sighed dreamily by Nathan who sat behind her homeroom, that she smells like strawberry and cream. Third, from an obviously jealous Paulina who claimed it was all an act, that she doesn’t say much at all.

It’s not until after lunch that he spies his moment. Juliette’s just come out of the girls’ bathroom, and none of the other guys in the hallway have spotted her.

“There’s your moment,” Sam says. She’s doing that thing with her mouth, where she’s trying to smile supportively but it keeps twitching in amused anticipation of his imminent failure.

He tries not to take it personally as he walks up to Juliette.

Their eyes meet, and Tucker learns something new about her: she's two inches taller than he is, has bright green eyes and a spattering of freckles across her face like a miniature constellation that shift when she smiles politely.

His mouth goes dry. Paradoxically, he’s suddenly convinced that he’s broken into a sweat and that any second now she’s going to curl her lip in disgust and ask if he needs a towel. What should he say? He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

Juliette’s forehead creases a little, her smile turning questioning.

Tucker’s brain goes blank. Is Tucker even his real name? He might as well have been born in this hallway and from the way Juliette’s beginning to look at him, he’s going to die in this hallway, girlfriendless.

Abort, a little voice in the back of his head that sounds like Danny says. Get the heck out of there. He manages to smile at her, watches her smile warm a fraction, and then he turns tail and flees.

“I know,” he says glumly when he gets back to Danny and Sam, who aren’t even bothering to hide their smirks. “I choked.” Then he grimaces. “Ugh, why can I talk perfectly normal now? Thanks for nothing, larynx.”

Then he swallows down a shriek of surprise as a hand clamps down on his shoulder. “Cyrano de Bergerac, that was pathetic!” Lancer announces. “I generally ignore your youthful romantic escapades, but even I will admit that was a sorry sight.” He eyes Tucker. A pensive look crosses his face. “Well,” he adds, almost kindly, “perhaps you’ll make it big with one of those dot com companies one day.”

“Uh, thanks?” Tucker says. There’s a thought taking shape in his head. He gives it a second to percolate as Lancer releases him and walks away. Then he turns to Danny and Sam and says, “Okay, get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Danny says, but his voice breaks on a snicker on the last word.

“Yeah, it’s not like you stared at her like a weirdo and then ran away,” Sam adds, grinning from ear to ear. “That would’ve been embarrassing.”

Tucker groans. He grabs his head, shaking it from side to side like that will fix whatever’s broken in his brain that makes him mess up with every single girl in Casper High. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he complains.

Danny shrugs. “Look on the bright side. At least you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.”

“You have to say something to stick your foot in your mouth! I saw her and my mind just went blank. Ugh, why is it so hard to talk to girls--”

The idea percolating in his head since Lancer said Cyrano de Bergerac clicks. Tucker watched Wishbone as a kid, he vaguely remembers an episode about that story. He points at Sam. “Wait, Sam. You’re a girl!”

Sam raises her eyebrows. She deadpans, “Oh no, my secret, it’s been revealed... How will I go on…?”

“You know what I mean,” Tucker says, but clearly she doesn’t, because she stares at him. He waves his hands around. “Look, it’s a story. It might even be French! The name sounds French. Cyrano de Bergerac. There’s this guy who can’t talk to this girl he likes, so he gets his best friend who’s a poet or something to tell him what to say, so he can get her to be his girlfriend!”

He claps his hands together and stares into Sam’s eyes.

She stares back. Her look has shifted from sarcastic to skeptical. “I’m not gonna like the next words out of your mouth, am I?”

Tucker hesitates for a second. Is he really this desperate? Then he remembers Juliette’s expression as he goggled at her like a creep. One more blow to his dignity won’t make that much of a difference. He hesitates another second. Is there a way to phrase this so Sam will buy it? Probably not.

He takes a deep breath.

Then he begs, “Sam, please be my Cyrano de Bergerac! Tell me what to say to Juliette.”

“Oh boy,” Danny mutters.

Sam keeps staring. For once Tucker can’t read her expression. Then she says, “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Anything!” Tucker says quickly.

“You have to be vegan for a week.”

Tucker chokes. Honestly, he was expecting another promise to try and disguise himself as her the next time she wanted to skip first period or something equally awkward, but this is a new low, even for Sam. “Wait, what?”

“You have to abstain from all food made from animals or their byproducts,” Sam says. The corner of her mouth twitches, but otherwise she looks completely sincere.

“But...meat….”

“No meat or no girlfriend, those are your choices.”

Tucker wrestles with the decision for a minute. “Just a week?”

Sam smiles, clearly sensing victory. “Hey, I’m being nice. I’m not making you do the ultra-recyclo-vegetarian diet, which is actually harder.”

Tucker sighs. “Truly you are a cruel woman,” he informs her. “How about this? If I get to date Juliette, I have to do the whole week. But if we do this and fail, I only do it for one day.” He studies Sam’s face. “...Two days?”

“Three.”

“Deal!” Tucker says. He stretches out his hand. “Shake on it?”

They shake.

Tucker sighs. “And now I want bacon.”

Sam grins at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t eat real or soy bacon, but I don’t mind buying some soy bacon for you….”

Tucker shudders. “Soy bacon is a crime against humanity.”

“Yeah, this is gonna go great,” Danny says.

“Testing, testing,” Sam says into the microphone, watching Tucker instinctively reach for his ear before he grabs at one of his backpack straps instead. He’s standing by the front steps of the school, almost lost to sight as kids flee the school, thankfully out of general enthusiasm for the weekend and not anything ghost-related. “Let’s try the alphabet. A is for arugula, B is for beets, C is for--”

Tucker’s annoyed voice crackles in her earbud. “You’re hilarious. I hear you.”

Sam grins. This is all probably going to be a disaster, but it’s going to be fun, whether she gets three days or a whole week of Tucker Foley, self-proclaimed meat connoisseur, having to eat vegan. She can’t wait to see all the faces he makes. “Okay,” she says. “Juliette just came out. Dash is with her, but Danny’s gonna handle that.”

“I am?” Danny says blinking. “Uh, I guess I am.” He ducks under a car and out of sight. A few seconds later Dash jerks backwards, his jacket somehow caught in the closed door.

“Go up to her and say hi,” Sam says. She thinks about the way he froze up earlier. “Just hi for now.”

Tucker bounds the stairs. “Hi,” he squeaks out.

There’s a beat of silence and then Juliette’s thickly accented voice answers him. “Hello. I saw you in the hall before, yes?”

“Y-yeah,” Tucker says at Sam’s prompting.

Sam can’t see the girl’s expression, but she hasn’t told Tucker to get lost, so there’s hope. Good. She was hoping for the whole week of tofu burgers. She says, “Now repeat after me, word for word.”

Tucker obeys, even if Sam thinks she can hear a little hesitation in his voice. “Sorry for being weird earlier. I forgot what I was going to say. But I've been thinking that this is your first day. It's probably been a lot. New town, new country. If you want recommendations for food or things to do, let me know.”

Sam doesn’t say anything else, but Tucker keeps talking, like he’s gone from weird silent guy mode to chatty dude mode. “If you like movies, we have a movie theater. Or we have a science museum, depends on, uh, what you like to do.”

“What I would like to do,” Juliette repeats, and Sam senses victory even though she’s too far away to see anyone’s expressions. “That is a good question. I have been told of a place called, ah, Nasty Burger. Perhaps we could go there and I will tell you what I like to do.”

Sam winces as Dash says loudly, “Hey! We’re going to Nasty Burger together.”

“No,” Juliette says. Disdain creeps into her voice as she steps away from Dash. “You told me this, but I did not agree.”

“What?” Dash says, sputtering. “But--”

“Tomorrow night,” Juliette says. “Though only if you do one thing for me.”

“Uh, okay,” Tucker says.

“Tell me your name?”

Sam almost slaps her forehead as Tucker goes, “I’m, uh--”

“Tucker,” Sam hisses at him.

“Tucker!”

“Tucker,” Juliette repeats. “We will go out tomorrow night, Tucker.”

“What’s happening right now?” Dash demands.

“I think I like her,” Danny says, reappearing beside Sam. He’s grinning.

Sam snorts. “Yeah. Anyone who can annoy Dash like that is okay in my book.”

Tucker wakes up the next morning full of goodwill towards everyone, even Dash, who stormed off after Juliette turned him down. Dash will probably make Tucker regret that he was even born come Monday, but for now Tucker’s too happy about his date to worry.

Then he gets to the kitchen and he falls face-first off of Cloud Nine.

Sam’s sitting at the table, elbow to elbow with his dad as he takes a sip from his coffee mug, looking like this is a totally normal place for her to be on Saturday morning.

For a second his stomach feels weird and he can’t figure out why. Then she turns and spots him. At her slow smile, Tucker realizes what he’s feeling: dread.

“Hi, Tucker!” Sam says. “I was just telling your dad about your week-long vegan challenge.” An unholy gleam lights her eyes. “And I brought you some soy bacon, like I promised.”

Tucker almost groans. It’s only his dad’s pleased, “I’m glad to see you’re expanding your diet, son. I was worried you really do eat only meat and potato chips,” that makes him swallow down the sound.

“Right,” he says through gritted teeth. “I thought I was starting that tomorrow. You know, in case the...thing...falls through.”

“It’s never too early to eat healthier!” his dad says. He looks delighted, so delighted that Tucker feels bad in anticipation for his disappointment when Tucker ditches the diet at 12:01 AM on the eight day. Seven days. This is going to be terrible.

Tucker waits until his dad goes to rinse out his mug and then he whispers, “Let me start it tomorrow! How am I going to explain this to Juliette when she asks why I’m getting that weird tofu melt at the Nasty Burger?”

“I’m your Cyrano, remember? I’ll come up with something,” Sam says, looking unperturbed. “And seriously, did you think I wouldn’t make you start immediately?” She slides a plate towards him. “Enjoy!”

Tucker stares down at the plate. A lump forms in his throat. Or maybe that’s his gag reflex. The thing on the plate doesn’t even look like bacon, more like burnt cardboard. He sits down and picks up the first strip between his fingers, grimacing as he brings it to his mouth. The worst part is that it almost tastes like bacon. It crumbles a little as he chews, the texture almost like bacon bits. The keyword of course being almost. It’s like the food equivalent of hearing music through the walls, catching the beat but not being able to make out the words.

Tucker chews grimly.

Sam grins. “Well, you didn’t puke, so I’m taking that as a win.”

Then her smile freezes on her face as Tucker’s dad chuckles and pats her shoulder. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you and Danny would be good influences on Tucker, but it is nice to see him taking some risks! First vegetables, then who knows! He might become a regular Evel Knievel.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, and both she and Tucker carefully avoid eye contact and don’t think about ghost hunting at all.

Tucker pushes down the butterflies in his stomach, adjusts his beret and checks his earbud for about the third or fourth time since he settled in to wait for Juliette. He wipes his hands on his jeans too, though he’s not sure if the sweat is from nerves or severe meat withdrawal.

He scans the Nasty Burger too, just in case Dash has decided to crash the date.

“You’re fine,” Sam says in his ear, sounding amused. “I’m the one who’s going to look like a weirdo eating alone.”

“Danny might show up,” Tucker offers. He expects the disbelieving snort in his ear, and gets it. Danny, for reasons Tucker can’t comprehend, seems to think this plan is going to blow up in Tucker and Sam’s faces. Then he forgets about Danny as Juliette comes through the front door.

He almost jumps out of his seat. “Okay, Operation Cyrano de Bergerac is a go!”

“Hello, Tucker,” Juliette says. His name sounds good in her accent.

His mouth goes dry, but Sam’s voice is in his ear, prompting him to say hello back.

Juliette glances around, her brow wrinkling. She studies the booth he snagged before she sits down. The gesture is made a little gingerly, like she’s worried she won’t be able to get up again. She picks up the menu and eyes it. “So this is the Nasty Burger.”

“The name is a little weird, but the food is good,” Tucker assures her.

Juliette looks politely disbelieving, with a cute little wrinkle of her nose.

Valerie approaches the table, a notepad in hand. “Hello and welcome to Nasty Burger. I’ll be your server today.” She glances between Juliette and Tucker, and it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. Her voice is very bland as she asks, “What would you like to drink?”

“Water, thank you,” Juliette says.

“Me too.”

“Do you need a minute to decide your order?”

“Yes,” Juliette says.

In Tucker’s ear, Sam says, “I’ll be nice, Tuck. You can have your pick of the vegan options.”

Tucker chokes down an answer and just nods when Valerie looks at him.

“What do you recommend?” Juliette asks, studying the menu. Tucker notices she’s painted her nails a bright emerald that gleams golden as the fluorescent lights catch on them.

“The Choking Smoking cheeseburger,” Tucker says before Sam can prompt him. At her slightly annoyed order to ask Juliette what kind of food she likes, he coughs and says, “At least if you like spicy food. What sort of food do you like?”

Juliette smiles faintly. “Normally not this,” she admits. “But I have been curious to try an American burger. And I do like spice. Perhaps I will have this….” She pauses briefly and glances down at the menu. “...Choking Smoking cheeseburger.”

Tucker inwardly celebrates. So far he’s rocking this date. And he’s barely needed Sam’s help at all.

Then Juliette asks, “Is that what you will order?”

Tucker keeps his smile fixed on his face. “Uh. No.”

Sam could rival Vlad Plasmius’ for the evil glee in her voice as she says, “Word for word, Tucker.”

Tucker feels his soul die a little as he recites, “Actually, I’m going on a vegan diet for a few days. I’m trying to see if I can lower my carbon footprint and help preserve the earth. Besides, plants are healthier for you, and cooked the right way--”

“Taste better than meat.”

“Taste better than meat,” Tucker says through gritted teeth, still smiling. He’s going to get revenge for this. He’s not sure how, but he’s going to make Sam regret making him say such obvious lies.

Juliette tilts her head and gives him a long look. “Ah. In France, we have vegans. Very few, and they are seen as very strange.”

Great. Tucker gets even more annoyed. He has a chance to date this awesome girl and his deal with Sam and the stupid vegan diet is going to ruin things. He waits for Sam to give him an out, but instead he hears Valerie.

“So what do you want to order?”

“Um,” Sam says, clearly distracted.

Tucker grins, sensing an opportunity. As Valerie says, “I can give you a minute if you want,” he says quickly, “I’m doing it for a friend for a week, but between you and me, the choking smoking cheeseburger is amazing. And there’s a steakhouse nearby you might like.”

“Tucker!” Sam hisses in his ear, followed by Valerie’s loud sigh.

“I don’t want to know, do I? I’ll put in your regular order.”

A few minutes later, Valerie is back at Tucker’s table, her pencil poised over her notepad. “Are you two ready?” she asks.

“I will have the Choking Smoking cheeseburger,” Juliette says. “With fries.”

Valerie looks at Tucker.

“Tucker, order the mushroom burger.”

Tucker was wrong before. Now Sam sounds as evil as Vlad Plasmius. He opens his mouth, but his order gets lodged in his throat. He swallows. Six more days, he promises himself. Six more days and he pretend these meals were an awful dream. It still takes effort to say, “I’ll take the mushroom burger.”

“You can have fries,” Sam adds magnanimously.

“With fries.”

Valerie’s eyebrows raise. She starts to look to their left where Sam’s sitting, and then visibly stops herself. “Right. Mushroom burger with fries, choking smoking cheeseburger with fries. Got it.”

Tucker almost cries when he bites into his mushroom burger. Only Juliette sitting across from him keeps his emotions in check. There are some things that shouldn’t exist, and a mushroom burger is one of them. He’s going to have to eat so much meat to make up for this.

From there, things get a little easier, even as Tucker chokes down the burger and finds solace in his fries. Sam apparently has a bunch of questions for him to ask Juliette, which he does, even as he gets a little annoyed that she’s not letting him talk about himself at all. How is Juliette supposed to know if she wants to go on a second date with him if she doesn’t know anything about him?

Still, everything is interesting about Juliette. She’s an only child. Her parents own a vineyard in southern France. She likes poetry and football (soccer, not the American kind, which she dismisses with a curl of her lip), and wants to travel after she graduates.

“That is one reason I agreed to this exchange program,” she explains as she sips her water. “I thought it would be interesting to visit America.”

Tucker knows plenty about America! Technology is his thing, of course, but he’s got a good memory for geography too. But instead of telling Juliette that, Sam has him ask, “What do you think of it so far?”

Juliette pauses. “It is...interesting.”

That’s it. Tucker says, “I’ll be right back.” He makes a beeline to the bathroom, holes up in a stall, and grumbles, “Okay, what’s your problem? Do you want me to get a second date or what?”

Sam snorts. “Seriously? You should be thanking me. If I wasn’t here, she’d have left by now.”

Even if yesterday Tucker had admitted he needed her help, Sam’s belief that he would have ruined the date stings. He glares at the stall door with its flaking red paint. “You don’t know that.”

“Tucker. I have watched you shoot yourself in the foot with every girl you've talked to since you got over your cooties phase. Yeah, I do.”

“Maybe you don't think I'm a catch, but I am!” Tucker snaps, loud enough that he winces at the feedback.

“For a smart guy you’re so dumb,” Sam says. Exasperation colors her voice, and Tucker can picture the expression on her face: the narrowed eyes, the sharply slanting eyebrows, the way her mouth is pinched with annoyance. “Look, it’s simple. I’m trying to convince Juliette you're a good listener before she finds out your real personality.”

Tucker yelps, “What's wrong with my personality?”

“Hm, let me think,” Sam says, and doesn’t pause as she rattles off, “You're a nerd, and your suave flirting isn't suave, and your tech obsession is weird, and you don't know how to talk to girls at all--”

“I know how to talk to you!”

There’s a beat of silence, one that stretches until Tucker plays his own words back to himself. That’s not a weird thing to say, right? Sam’s been one of his best friends since kindergarten. She’s easy to talk to, even if he tunes her out whenever she starts going on being being ultra-recyclo-vegetarian or gets on her high horse without any sign of getting off it anytime soon. But he can still talk to her about stuff, like when they’re worried about Danny or--

“Yeah,” Sam says, and he refocuses his attention. Maybe she thinks it was a weird thing to say, because her voice sounds strange. “Well. I don’t really count.”

“Right,” Tucker agrees quickly. “Exactly! I know how to talk to you, and you’re a girl. I’ve got this!”

“Uh huh, which is why Juliette looks like she thinks you ditched her,” Sam says. She sounds normal again, and very amused. “Or she thinks you’re sick, which probably won’t get you a second date.”

Tucker almost trips on his way out of the stall.

Sam looks up as Danny drops into the chair across from her. He looks faintly annoyed, at least until he sees her expression. Then he winces. “Sorry for being late. Ghost stuff. It was weird, this ghost was yelling at--”

Sam gestures pointedly at her ear.

Danny stares blankly. Then he glances over his shoulder towards Tucker. “Right. That’s still happening. But after this, we should talk about the ghost--”

“Stop talking,” Sam says, and it comes out snappier than she means.

Danny blinks. “Okay,” he says slowly, giving her a confused look. “Is the date terrible?”

Sam checks in on Tucker and Juliette, but she’s just started some story about traveling by train to Berlin. She covers the earbud and whispers, “No, it’s going okay. Just Tucker being stupid. He thinks I’m sabotaging him or something.”

“Are you?” Danny says, grinning.

“No!” Sam says, frustrated. She throws up her hands. “He’s always so obsessed with selling this suave image, he forgets how to talk to girls like they’re, you know, actual people. I was trying to get him to listen to Juliette, learn about her, figure out common interests. So then she'll want a second date and can find out he’s loyal and smart even if he is a nerd.”

Danny frowns. “And Tucker didn’t get that when you explained?”

Sam opens her mouth, then shuts it.

Danny goes back to grinning. “Well I guess he knows now.” He leans back in his chair, looking around hopefully. “Think I can get something to eat?”

“What?” Sam asks before she realizes she wasn’t holding her hand over the earbud. Which means Tucker heard all that.

“Tucker, are you feeling well?” Juliette asks, concerned.

There’s a second of silence. Then Tucker says, “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. So, uh, where else have you visited?”

Embarrassment makes Sam’s skin prickle. She yanks the earbud out of her ear and throws it over her shoulder. Tucker can take it from here.

“Please don’t throw things in the Nasty Burger,” Valerie says flatly, coming up to their table. Her voice and expression warm as she turns towards Danny. “Hi, Danny. Your regular order, or are you going to surprise me?”

Danny grins wider. “I don’t know. Do you like surprises?”

“Depends on the surprise.”

“Ugh,” Sam mutters under her breath. First Tucker and Juliette, now Valerie and Danny. Is it secretly Valentine’s Day or something? She stabs at her salad with her fork. She’s been so distracted helping Tucker that she’s barely eaten her dinner, which explains the weird feeling in her stomach.

“So,” Danny says.

Sam looks up.

Valerie’s gone, but Danny’s watching her with a slight smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes, which are concerned. She braces herself for him to use a page out of Jazz’s book and ask her about her feelings, but instead he leans forward and says, “Since you abandoned Tucker in the middle of the date, does that knock off a day from the vegan deal?”

It’s an obvious distraction, and Sam tries not to be annoyed by how grateful she is for the out. “No way,” she says, crossing her arms against her chest.

“At least I can tell Tucker I tried.”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “He’ll survive not eating meat for seven days.”

“Will he, though?” Now Danny’s smile reaches his eyes. “I can’t believe I missed him eating dinner. What did he order?”

“The mushroom burger.”

“...Did he cry?”

“Bye! See you on Monday!” Tucker says, waving as Juliette climbs into her host mom’s car.

It’s only as the taillights disappear from sight that he realizes he didn’t actually ask her out for an official second date. Crap. The lack of meat is dropping his IQ or something. Okay, game plan for Monday is to give Juliette a list of things she might like to do around Amity Park.

“That went better than I thought it would,” a familiar voice says.

When Tucker turns, Danny grins at him. Next to him, Sam stands there with her arms crossed.

“Thanks for the support,” Tucker says sarcastically, avoiding Sam’s eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Danny says cheerfully. “So, the reason I was late--”

“And I got to sit around talking to myself like a weirdo,” Sam interjects.

“--is because there was a ghost--”

“Yeah, until you stopped talking!” Tucker says. Now he stares at Sam. She stares back. It’s a whole staring thing. “What was that about?”

“--and you guys aren’t listening at all….”

“Well, you didn’t want me sabotaging you, remember?”

“Yeah, but,” Tucker says. Then he stops, because he’s pretty sure Sam will hit him if he tries to get her to admit that she actually complimented him earlier. Loyal and smart? It’s kind of nice, hearing what she really thinks of him. Sure she followed it up with calling him a nerd, but still. Sam is still staring at him, her expression a little wary. He clears his throat. A change of topic is in order. “Okay, so I need to go home and do some research.”

“Ghost research?” Danny asks hopefully.

Tucker squints at him. “No, I have to figure out places Juliette might like.”

Danny sighs.

Sam, meanwhile, looks smug. “And I bet you have some ideas. Funny how that works when you treat a girl like a person and not some date to be won.”

Tucker does have a few ideas, actually. There’s a French restaurant that his parents go to sometimes, and he thinks Juliette might get a kick out of Americanized French food. Or hate it. Tucker is still figuring her out. She’s not someone he’s known forever, like--

Sam is still smirking.

“Smug is not a good look on you,” he informs her.

Sam stares up at her bedroom ceiling, her headphones blasting Dumpty Humpty so loud that it feels like the music should be pummeling her thoughts into submission.

Her thoughts don’t agree, though. Usually Dumpty Humpty is a good distraction, but tonight it’s not working. She keeps mishearing lyrics, lines like “I know you must hate me” and “This is how the world ends, through indifference” contorting into a twisted echo of Tucker’s earnest, “I know how to talk to you!”

She finally gives up on the album, jabbing a finger on the pause button.

She stares at her CDs. Maybe she should try Our Fragile Illusion or In the Modern Plague, something where you can’t understand the lyrics, just the emotion.

When she tries the first band, the same thing happens. Tucker’s gotten into her head with his weird sincerity. Finally she flings her headphones away and grabs a pillow, muffling a groan. Why is she even thinking about this? Of course Tucker knows how to talk to her! They’ve been friends since kindergarten. It shouldn’t be a weird thing to say!

“Maybe he should use his stupid sincerity on Juliette, see if it works on her,” she mumbles to herself. Not that it had worked on her, but--

“Oh,” she says, muffled against the pillow. Horrified realization crashes down on her. “Oh no.”

Tucker taps at the edge of his keyboard, frowning at the screen. Where should he start first with figuring out stuff Juliette might like to do?

He pulls up the French restaurant he was thinking about earlier. Then he actually looks at the menu. He winces. Sam can afford those prices, but he definitely can’t, not if he wants to keep saving for that new PDA that just came out and which he’ll maybe be able to afford in six months. Maybe he’ll just suggest that one for Juliette and her host family.

He can totally find stuff to do at the mall. He pulls up the mall’s homepage. There are ads scrolling across the top, impervious to Tucker’s ad-blocker, which is honestly impressive. One jumps out at him. He should text Sam, tell her that Goths and Guts is having buy one ripped black shirt, get one half off deal.

Tucker leans back in his chair and squeezes the sides of his head. “I’m planning stuff for Juliette, not Sam, remember?”

An IM pops up in the corner of the screen from Danny.

Ghost Boy: are you done mooning over Juliette?

Tucker roll his eyes and types back, I’m not mooning. And no, still figuring out what Sam-- His fingers freeze on the keyboard. He blinks at the screen, then hastily backspaces. Still figuring out what Juliette might want to do for date two.

Ghost Boy: Have fun. When you’re done, there was a weird ghost trying to fight with a statue in the park.

Okay, Tucker types and then closes out of AIM entirely even as Danny starts to type something else. Then he leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.

Clearly all this running around with Sam’s voice in his ear was a bad idea. Either that, or his meat withdrawals are driving him slowly crazy. He shouldn’t be thinking about Sam, not when his date with Juliette went great, and Juliette is pretty and smart and interesting and seems to like him. And Sam might like him, but she doesn't like like him. That'd be crazy. Who falls in love with someone you've known since kindergarten? Certainly not Sam, that brief crush on Danny aside. Certainly not Tucker either! Sam’s just a friend, it’s not like he’s ever thought about kissing her or--

The memory of the flour baby assignment comes rushing back. He remembers dropping a kiss onto the cheek of Lilith, formerly known as Tucker Junior, and then, on some stupid instinct or bout with insanity, pressing his lips to Sam’s. The sticky chemical taste of her lipstick had lingered long after they’d agreed never to mention it again.

Tucker stares at his reflection in his computer screen, betrayed by his own mind. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something back then? If it was, if it still is, he refuses the message.

“Nope,” he says. “Not happening.”

Danny and Jazz are halfway through bacon and scrambled eggs when the doorbell rings.

It rings again, and then a third time in rapid succession, belting out an embarrassing Fenton Works jingle that make them both bolt for the door before the person can ring it again.

Danny gets there first, wrenching open the door to find Tucker on his doorstep.

Tucker looks like he hasn’t slept, twitchy and with his beret askew. The meat withdrawal really must be hitting him hard, because he gives them a distracted look and starts to say, “Danny, we really need to talk--” Then he stops, sniffing the air. “Is that bacon?”

“You can’t have any,” Danny says immediately. “I’m not getting on Sam’s bad side and helping you cheat the deal.”

“What deal?” Jazz asks curiously as Tucker’s face falls.

Danny sighs. “Long story.”

“I agreed to eat only vegan food for a week if Sam would help me talk to a girl,” Tucker explains as he comes into the house, still sniffing a little at the air.

“Okay, not a long story,” Danny says with a grin.

“I need to talk to you,” Tucker says. He gives Jazz a sideways look. “Alone.”

Jazz raises her eyebrows. “I’ll go finish my breakfast.”

When the kitchen door closes behind her, Danny raises an eyebrow. “Is this about the ghost? You know she knows.” He’d sent Tucker a description of the ghost -- some guy who looked like he’d walked off a pirate ship or out of some romantic movie set in historical England -- and the name of the statue he’d been trying to fight, but Tucker hadn’t gotten back to him. Thinking of ghosts makes him glance down towards the floor and add, “And Mom and Dad are working on some new gadget downstairs, so--”

“I think I like Sam,” Tucker says in a rush.

Danny blinks. “What?”

“I. Think. I. Like. Sam.” Tucker repeats his words through gritted teeth.

Danny starts to laugh. “Very funny.” Then he sees Tucker’s expression. Right. Not joking at all. “Oh. You like Sam.”

“Apparently!” Tucker tugs at his beret, looking a little wild around the eyes. “Apparently I’ve had a crush on her for a while, according to my dumb subconscious!”

“Right,” Danny says slowly. He takes a moment to process as Tucker starts to pace around the hallway, muttering under his breath about his stupid brain keeping secrets. In a weird way, it makes sense. People are always saying opposites attract, and Tucker and Sam are totally different people. Just because he sort of gets it though doesn’t mean he knows what to say. He hasn’t exactly done great for himself with girlfriends, between Paulina and Valerie. Giving Tucker any advice at all feels like it will go two ways: terrible and even worse.

He watches Tucker go in literal and figurative circles for a minute and then says, “Tucker, have you ever thought maybe you should just...talk to her about it?” When Tucker gives him a horrified look, he adds, “Or Jazz? We know she can keep a secret! Or, well, anyone but me?”

The doorbell rings again. “Fenton Works, it really works--”

Danny goes up to the door and peers through the peephole. “Hey, you could tell her right now,” he says, squinting out at Sam on the doorstep.

The sound of running feet meets his ears. He turns to see Tucker sprinting up the stairs, apparently to hide in Danny’s bedroom.

Danny sighs. He waits until his bedroom door closes, and then he opens the door and says, “Hi, Sam. I was eating breakfast if you wanna--” He stops, his eyes going to the package under Sam’s arm. “What’s that?”

Sam looks down at the package as though she’s forgotten all about it. “I’ll explain in the kitchen.”

Jazz looks at them when they enter, a piece of bacon dangling from her mouth. She swallows it and glances between them. One corner of her mouth quirks. “I’ll finish my breakfast in my room,” she says, half-amused, half-exasperated, and takes her plate out with her.

Danny sits down at the table and tries to take a few bites of his own breakfast as Sam starts pacing too. She looks just as frazzled as Tucker does. She must’ve been in such a rush to get out of her house that she forgot to put on her usual eye shadow.

She sets the package down on the table. Danny squints at it. It’s a box for the new PDA that Tucker has been hatching a million get-rich-quick schemes to buy. Danny doesn’t even think the PDA is out until next week.

This is explained, at least a little, as Sam says, “So I think I like Tucker. And I maybe bought him that computer thing he’s been whining about. I need you to pretend you just found it when I put it in his locker tomorrow.”

Danny opens his mouth. Then he shuts it as Sam gives him a panicky grimace. Well, this makes things both easier and harder. The problem is, he can’t exactly rat one out to the other. He’s going to have to let them figure it out, with maybe some subtle nudges.

“Okay. First things first,” he says. “Why don’t you buy me anything?”

“Danny!” Sam’s anguished wail would’ve been perfect for a Dumpty Humpty song.

Danny holds up his hands, warding off her frustration. “We’ll come back to that. Second thing.” He points at the box. “Isn’t that worth like six hundred dollars?”

Sam stares blankly. “Is that a lot?”

“Maybe not for Rockefeller,” Danny says. She looks uncomprehending. Sometimes Danny forgets Sam is an heiress. Today isn’t one of those days. He’s gotten off track anyway. “Look, this sounds like something you should talk to Tucker about.”

“No,” Sam says immediately. “I can’t do that.”

“But you can buy--”

Danny stops talking as there’s a dull thud and squeak from above their heads. It sounds a lot like someone throwing themselves dramatically across a bed. Jazz used to do it a lot, whenever she was fed up with their parents’ ghost hunting stuff. But Jazz doesn’t have any reason for the dramatics, which means it’s probably Tucker.

“Never mind,” he says. Sam is still looking horrified by the very idea of trying to talk to Tucker. Danny sighs. He gets the feeling he’s in for a long couple of days. He grins at her. “Hey, if you want a distraction, we could go ghost hunting. There’s some ghost picking fights with statues in--”

“I’m gonna go,” Sam says. She picks up the box. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Danny gets upstairs, Tucker is sprawled dramatically across the bed like he suspected, his arm over his face. A despairing groan escapes his lips and he lifts his arm to stare at Danny, his gaze flickering past him to check that Sam isn’t with him. Then he groans again. “This is the worst, Danny. The worst thing that has ever happened to me!”

“Worse than when Vlad almost killed you with the ectoplasma?”

“Yes!”

Danny resists the urge to sigh again. Without much hope, he says, “If you want a distraction, you could help me with this ghost who hates French statues….” He trails off as Tucker groans again and drops his arm back over his face.

“Danny, take this seriously! She’s gonna make fun of me forever if she finds out! Or hate me!”

“She won’t hate you.”

“You don’t know that,” Tucker says.

Danny is starting to get a headache, and they’re only ten minutes into this revelation. It’s going to be a long few days until one of them slips up and the truth comes out. “Yeah. So. This ghost--”

Tucker groans and Danny gives up.

Sam can’t go ghost, but it still feels like an out-of-body experience Monday morning when Tucker ambushes her in the hallway. She practically jumps out of her skin. Then her face gets hot and her stupid stomach gets butterflies wearing combat boots. She hates this so much.

Tucker doesn’t seem to notice her blush, too busy seizing her by the shoulders and glancing around like he’s looking for someone in particular. Then he ducks into a smaller hallway, pulling her along and whispering frantically, “We have to talk.”

“Uh,” Sam says, the sound lodged in her throat. Her first thought is that Danny told him. Her second thought is that Danny wouldn’t snitch.

Her third thought is derailed entirely when Tucker flourishes the brand new PDA she put in his locker. He says, “I think Danny stole this! We have to do something!”

“...What?”

Tucker waves the PDA at her. “This is worth six hundred dollars, Sam! I know Vlad proves that a life of crime pays, but we can’t let Danny choose that life! For one thing, it’s bad, and for another what if we end up as accessories and I go to jail?!”

“I,” Sam says. There’s a lot to process here. First and foremost is that she cannot admit she was the one who put the PDA in his locker. She licks her lips. Sending out a silent apology to Danny, she agrees vaguely, “Yeah. That would be...bad.”

“Come to my house after school. We have to figure out what to do.”

Oh no. That sounds like a horrible idea. Sam’s trying to figure out how to get out of it when a new, accented voice behind her says, “Hello, Tucker.”

Tucker jumps. Instead of looking delighted at Juliette’s hello, he looks nervous, giving her a too-wide smile and stuffing the PDA into his locker. “Hi, Juliette! Uh, have you met Sam? She’s one of, she’s one of my best friends. I should introduce you to Danny too, you--”

Sam might be having weird feelings about Tucker, but she also can’t watch him sink this hard. She surreptitiously steps on his foot to shut him up and then turns and smiles at Juliette. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

Juliette smiles back. Her green eyes sparkle. Sam’s stomach twists a little. No wonder Tucker likes her; he always goes for conventionally attractive girls, and Juliette is very pretty. And her eye shadow is perfect. “Hello, Sam.” She gives Sam a once over. “You must be the vegan.”

Sam starts to bristle before she realizes no judgment in the other girl’s voice. She eyes Juliette. “I hear in France vegans are weirdos.”

Juliette waves a dismissive hand. “Yes. I cannot imagine not eating meat. But if you can convince a boy to stop eating meat for a week, then you are, ah, what is the word, impressive?” Her smile is sincere, and despite herself, Sam smiles back.

Juliette glances towards Tucker. Her expression turns expectant.

Sam steps on Tucker’s foot again. He coughs and starts digging around in his backpack. “So I’ve been thinking about places you might like to go in Amity Park. I have a list.” He pulls out a piece of paper and offers it to Juliette.

She takes it, reading for a few seconds. A pleased smile spreads across her face. “Thank you. I also had an idea. I have heard of Amity Park and their ghosts. Apparently there is one in the park? I am going to my host sister’s football practice tonight, but tomorrow, we could try to find the ghost.”

Sam and Tucker exchange a look, Sam temporarily forgetting her stupid crush. “You, uh, want to go ghost hunting?”

“No, no, just to see one! So I can tell my friends I have seen an American ghost!”

“Well, uh,” Sam says, thinking quickly, “ghost watching is a group thing here. So maybe we can all do it together tomorrow? You can meet Danny too.”

“I would like that,” Juliette says, smiling. She looks over Tucker’s list again. “Thank you, Tucker. We will talk later, yes?”

“Yeah,” Tucker says, his fingers twisted into the straps of his backpack. He watches Juliette go, and then looks back at Sam. “Okay. So that’s a thing. But first we have to stop Danny’s future life of crime. My place, tonight?”

Sam tries to think of an excuse to get out of it. She fails. “Tonight,” she agrees, inwardly wincing.

Danny sighs when he gets Tucker’s text message telling him to come to his house ASAP. He really doesn’t want to talk about Tucker’s crush on Sam. It had been bad enough watching them moon over each other, staring at each other when the other wasn’t paying attention, and just being weird and awkward.

He should probably offer some moral support as their friends, but he doesn’t really want to. But hey, maybe this time he can distract Tucker with the ghost that’s still haunting the park.

Mrs. Foley opens the front door with a welcoming smile. “Hi, Danny. Tucker and Sam are upstairs in his room!”

Danny freezes in place. “Tucker and Sam?” he repeats. Does this mean they admitted their feelings? He’s simultaneously relieved and nervous. Relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with them not dealing with their crushes, nervous because he hasn’t actually thought about what it means for their friendship if two of them are dating each other. It’s fine. It’s probably fine.

When he opens Tucker’s bedroom door, he’s greeted by the sight of Tucker looking weirdly grim and Sam looking poker-faced. Okay, now he’s just confused. Did Tucker and Sam get into a fight about liking each other?

“Danny, please, sit down,” Tucker says, waving at a chair in the middle of his bedroom.

“Okay,” Danny says slowly. He sits, and almost immediately has something brandished at his face. He has to lean back to realize that it’s the PDA Sam bought Tucker.

Tucker looks intent and earnest. “Danny, this is a safe space. You can be honest with us. Did this...drop off the back of a truck?”

Danny glances at Sam, but she’s avoiding his eyes and still wearing that poker-face. He weighs his choices. He could rat Sam out, but she might not forgive him. Or he could lie and agree that he found the PDA on the street. “Uh, sure.”

Tucker doesn’t look happy with his answer though. If anything, he looks grimmer. “Sam, unveil the banner.”

“The banner?” Danny echoes as Sam heads to the corner of the room. Then he squints. “Are your nails painted black?”

Tucker’s grim look falters briefly. His brown skin darkens a little in a blush. “Sam did them,” he mutters, whisking the PDA away and jamming his hands into his pockets. He lowers his voice and adds confidingly, “She had to hold my hand to--”

“I got it,” Danny says, sighing.

There’s a sudden rustling sound. Danny looks up as a banner unfurls. Danny squints at it. "Intervention," he reads with a sinking feeling. There’s another rustling sound and a second, smaller banner unfurls underneath the first. “Larceny: it's a crime. Guys, what--”

“Danny,” Tucker says, back to looking grim. “This is an intervention.”

Danny stares between Tucker and the banners, and then between the banners and Sam, who’s grimacing apologetically behind Tucker’s back. “...What?”

Tucker goes to his closet and wheels out a projector and his laptop. “Sam, get the screen up, please. Don’t protest, Danny. I understand you want to be a good friend, but good friends don’t steal things for each other.”

“...What?”

Tucker, apparently, has a powerpoint. A powerpoint all about Danny using his ghost powers to commit grand larceny to steal the PDA.

Danny gives Sam a long stare, but she’s gone poker-faced on him. “Tucker--”

Tucker puts his finger on Danny’s lips and Danny shuts up. “Danny, just listen with an open heart.”

The powerpoint isn’t tasteful. Or good, though Tucker has clearly worked a couple hours on it. There are animations. Actual animated ghosts dance across the screen as Tucker launches into his speech. The most used transition from one slide to another is the one that looks like vertical bars.

“To remind you of prison bars, in the cell you’re going to end up in,” Tucker explains. He taps the screen with the extendable pointing stick he apparently owns. “Whether it’s human or ghost jail. And as you can see here in figure 3, there is, in fact, ghost jail. Ghost jail that will jail you for ghost crimes.”

Danny can’t take it anymore. He gives Sam a hard side-eye and when she just looks up at the ceiling, says flatly, “Yeah, I've been there, remember?”

Tucker points the stick at him, almost poking him in the nose. “No questions or comments until the end of the presentation! Open heart, open mind!”

Sam continues to stare vaguely up at the ceiling, but her face is getting red.

Tucker keeps going. He has statistics about post-incarceration life. He has individual reaction images for every single member of Danny, Tucker, and Sam’s families on learning that Danny has been arrested for grand theft larceny and Sam and Tucker are being charged as accessories.

After the tenth or twelfth slide, Danny groans. “Tucker, I promise I won’t use my ghost powers to steal. This intervention has changed my mind and I swear to give up my wicked ways.” 

Tucker squints at him for a second. Then he shakes his head. “Nice try, buddy. But you need to hear the whole presentation. Maybe then I’ll believe you.”

“How many slides are there?”

Tucker points the stick at him again and says matter-of-factly, “No more questions, but thirty-six.”

Danny gives Sam another side-eye, this one even more intense. His eyes are prickling with frustration, and from the way she bites her lip, glowing a little. Then she rearranges her expression back into her poker face. Danny keeps staring at her for a few more seconds, hoping she’ll break, but she doesn’t. Right. Danny’s done.

“No. Nope. I’m done.”

Tucker frowns at him when he starts to stand up. “Danny! This is serious!”

“Yeah, seriously stupid. Tucker, I didn’t steal that PDA. Sam bought it for you.”

“Danny!” Sam hisses, looking betrayed. Danny gives her a poker face of his own.

Tucker blinks. He frowns. “What? No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Tucker glances between them, looking bewildered. “Why--”

Well, Danny has already snitched on Sam. He might as well even things out. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says sarcastically. “Maybe for the same reason you sat here and let her paint your nails black.”

“Danny!” Tucker yelps. “Xnay on the--” Then he blinks again. Realization begins to slowly dawn on his face. “Wait--”

“I’m going ghost and getting out of here,” Danny informs them both, and escapes.

Sam would love ghost powers right now. She wants to sink through the floor and hightail it like Danny as Tuckers turns to stare at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Then what Danny says actually registers through the embarrassment. Something like hope kicks her rib cage, or maybe that’s just her heart suddenly going a million beats per minute.

She squints at Tucker. “What did Danny mean when he said--”

“Uh,” Tucker says, drawing out the word. He stares back, his lips twitching between a smile and a grimace. “That, uh, depends on, uh.” He stops, his black nails Sam painted an hour earlier gleaming under the lights as he fidgets with the stupid pointing stick. He gives her a look that’s about a million emotions at once, way too many for Sam to figure out but enough conflicting feelings that Sam starts to second-guess herself. “How about we both say what we think Danny meant on three? One, two--”

“Tucker.”

“...Or not,” Tucker mumbles. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he says in a rush, “Maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?” The hope is still stomping around in her chest, but a familiar mix of exasperation and amusement join it. “Tucker, do you--” The words get caught in her throat. She coughs, and feels like that idiot in every teen romantic movie ever as she asks, “Do you like me, yes or no?”

“Yes?” Tucker says slowly, his voice rising a little and turning it into a question. “Unless Danny was joking when he implied you like me too, in which case haha, he’s got such a weird sense of humor, right? That’s our Danny.”

“Tucker,” Sam says, exasperation coloring his name. Then she takes a deep breath too. Her face warms and she knows she’s blushing. Resisting the urge to press her hands to her cheeks, she kicks at the floor and adds, “He wasn’t. Joking, I mean.”

“Oh. Oh!” Tucker starts to smile. It lights up his face, and Sam smiles back, until they’re both grinning stupidly at each other. Then Tucker blinks and shoots her a curious look, still smiling. “So you bought me the PDA?”

Sam grimaces a little. Okay, she's going to have to remember that six hundred dollars is way too much to drop on one gift. Next time she’ll stick to something under a hundred dollars. That’s reasonable, right? “Uh, yeah. Is that weird?”

Tucker keeps grinning. “No. I just hope you realize that you must keep me in the life that I'm now accustomed to--” He stops with a laugh as Sam punches him in the shoulder, lightly.

“Tucker, this right here is why you can't get a girlfriend.”

Tucker’s grin widens. “Well....”

It’s Sam’s turn to laugh. “Shut up.” Then a new thought strikes. Some of the giddy feeling disappears. “Oh. What are you going to tell Juliette?” When Tucker stares blankly, Sam reminds him, “We’re going ghost watching tomorrow.” She feels a twinge of guilt. Juliette’s actually pretty cool. She hopes this doesn’t get too awkward.

Tucker’s grin fades too. “Oh. Right. I’ll just...tell her the truth? That’s the right thing to do, right?”

“Well, you’re not gonna date us both,” Sam says dryly. “So yeah, truth is probably a good idea.”

Tucker’s grin returns in full force. “Wow. I can’t believe I had two girls who like me at the same time--”

“Keep that up and this won’t last twenty-four hours,” Sam warns him, but it comes out amused and Tucker just grins at her and says, “What? You can’t resist the Foley charm. Admit it.”

“I regret this already,” Sam says, and laughs. “Now, come on. I want to try the vegan dinner your mom made.”

Tucker groans. “I thought since I’m not dating J--”

“Deal’s a deal, Tuck. I still got you through the date.”

“So now we will ghost watch,” Juliette says, smiling. She holds up her phone. “I have seen some of the videos online. It looks very exciting! And now I will take a video to show my friends.”

Danny smiles when she glances at him. Once she’s wandered out of earshot to take a panoramic shot of the various statues, he glares at Sam and Tucker, who both make faces back at him. “Going to be interesting dealing with this guy with an audience,” he whispers pointedly.

“She’s the one who suggested looking for the ghost,” Sam says with a shrug.

“And we can distract her if you need to go ghost,” Tucker adds. He makes another face. “Actually I haven’t gotten to talk to Juliette along yet, so she doesn’t know, uh--” He glances at Sam, and they both grin a little.

Danny thinks it’s sweet and annoying at the same time. “Great, you can distract her with that news if the ghost shows up,” he says, just in time for the cold to fill his throat. He breathes out the warning breath as the ghost appears over the head of the statue he was arguing with on Saturday.

Juliette jumps and turns, pointing her phone towards the ghost, her eyes wide.

“This statue is the statue of a fool!” the ghost shouts, brandishing a glowing sword. At least that’s what Danny thinks he says. His accent is even thicker than Juliette’s. “I will have satisfaction!”

Sam crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. “If by satisfaction you mean destroying the statue, in America we call that property damage.”

“Yeah, and I have a powerpoint about how that’s a bad thing, if you give me a couple minutes to edit the presentation,” Tucker adds. He might be reaching for his cell phone to pull up his powerpoint, but Danny can’t tell, because Danny’s diving around the nearest bush to transform.

Danny flies over the bush just in time to see the spirit’s eyes glow red.

Juliette is still filming, but her startled voice carries. “What is a French ghost doing in Amity Park?”

“We’re a very happening place,” Tucker says.

The sword grows in the ghost’s hand, green flames licking along the edge of it. Well, that’s new and unsettling. “Silence, children!” The ghost ignores Tucker's protest that they're teenagers. He raises his arm, the sword glowing even brighter, and glares down at the offending statue of a man on horseback. “Take this, you miserable son of--”

Danny sends two ectoplasmic blasts at him, but the ghost dodges, surprisingly graceful in the air, and slashes at the statue.

The sword slices through it like butter, cutting the rider off at the waist.

For a second nothing happens. Then Juliette gives a little shriek of alarm as the dissected statue begins to slide, fifty pounds of metal toppling towards Sam and Tucker.

“Hey, watch it!” Danny yells as he dives towards his friends, who both grab at each other. His hands close on their shoulders and he focuses, turning them all insubstantial a second before the statue would’ve hit.

He pulls Tucker and Sam a few feet from the statue before he lets them go. They don’t let go of each other, clutching each other’s hand as Tucker gives Danny a weak thumbs up and a wobbly, “Thanks, man.”

Danny rounds on the ghost, seriously angry. Whatever the guy’s problem is with the statue doesn’t mean he can go around almost hurting people. He sends another ectoplasmic blast towards the ghost. This one hits, and the ghost roars in outrage.

“You will not interrupt!” the ghost declares and points his sword in Danny’s direction. The flames go out. Instead ectoplasma drips down the ghostly blade. When the ghost slashes at the air, the ectoplasma flies in Danny’s direction.

He mostly dodges it, grimacing as a few drops land harmlessly but grossly on his shoulder. “Dude. You need to chill.”

“No,” a furious voice declares. “This is unacceptable.”

Both the ghost and Danny pause. They look to find Juliette wiping at the ectoplasma staining her turtleneck, her expression white and furious beneath the green droplets.

Juliette thrusts her phone at Sam, pausing only to glance down at Tucker and Sam’s clasped hands. Her eyebrow raises, and then she says “Continue the film, please. I will handle this.”

Danny blinks and then instinctively readies an ectoplasmic blast as Juliette marches up the ghost.

“No!” she shouts up at him. “I knew Amity Park was strange, but this is incroyable! A true French ghost sometimes moans at night, perhaps wears a white dress and walks through the house. They are elegant. They do not throw, what is this--” She wipes off more of the ectoplasma in disgust. Her lip curls. “Bah! There is no elegance in this ghost. It cannot be French.”

Danny still has his ectoplasmic blast ready, but the ghost wilts beneath Juliette’s words. His sword disappears. He whips off his feathered hat and sweeps her a bow, or at least attempts one as he floats. “Mademoiselle--”

“No!” Juliette says again, crossing her arms. “I would expect this of an American ghost. They are supposed to be boorish. But a French ghost has manners!”

“Mademoiselle!”

The ghost seems distracted. Danny drops the ectoplasmic blast. “Maybe he’s been in America for too long,” he suggests, and as the ghost turns an offended glance his way, Danny opens the thermos.

“No!” the ghost shouts in dismay. He looks at Juliette, still clutching his hat. He fights the pull of the thermos, but his attention is on Juliette and not Danny or the dismembered statute. His voice is pleading. “Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, veuillez accepter--”

Whatever he’s going to say is lost as he gets sucked into the thermos.

“Bah!” Juliette says, stomping her foot. She snatches her phone back from Sam. “How will I show this to my friends? They will not want to see a French ghost making a fool of himself!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Tucker assures her. “You’re in Amity Park. There’ll be other ghosts.”

Juliette looks slightly mollified. Then she glances down at Tucker and Sam’s entwined hands. The corner of her mouth quirks in amusement. “Ah, so you do not want to date me.”

“What?” Tucker says. Then he looks down. Both he and Sam flush. “Oh. Um, Juliette, I was going to explain--”

Juliette waves a dismissive hand. “It is just as well. I do not like to date boys who are shorter than me.” She looks contemplative. “That Dash is a buffoon. Perhaps I will date Kwan. He has a poet’s soul, though I am not sure if I could date a boy who does not play true football.”

“Uh,” Tucker says. His expression wavers between relief and looking offended. “I’m not that much shorter than you--” Sam rolls her eyes at him, smirking, and he adds, “Uh, but yeah. We can be friends?”

Juliette puts her phone away. She smiles. “Yes, friends. And I hope you are right. I would like to see other ghosts, ones that do not shame France.” Then she frowns. Worry clouds her expression. “Where is your friend?”

Crap. Danny says, “Oh, he’s, uh, really scared of ghosts. Sam and Tucker dragged him along. He’s probably hiding. I’ll go find him.”

When he comes back to the group, back to being human, Juliette gives him a sympathetic smile. “Do not be embarrassed, Danny. If you are frightened of ghosts, then of course you must hide. Next time we will not go ghost watching with you, yes? You can do something else.”

“Uh,” Danny says. He looks at Sam and Tucker, hoping they’ll jump to his defense or give him an out.

Sam’s holding Tucker’s hand up for inspection. “Dude, how did you chip your nails already? I put a protective layer on them!”

“No idea. Guess we’ll just have to redo them,” Tucker says, grinning like a sap.

Danny sighs. Yeah, he’s not getting any help from his friends any time soon. Maybe after the honeymoon phase. “Thanks,” he says vaguely. “But I’ll be okay. It’s not like there are any other ghosts arou--”

“FEAR ME, FOR I AM THE BOX GHOST!”

“Aw, c’mon!” Danny protests. “There aren’t any boxes here!”

Tucker and Sam ignore the interruption. “So, to circle back, technically dating Juliette didn’t work out, so really that means--”

“Not my fault you got a crush on me,” Sam says with a grin. Tucker gives her a pleading look, but she shakes her head. “Seven days is seven days.”

Tucker groans. “Fine. I hope you like being a widow.”

Juliette looks delighted. She holds up her phone, pointing it towards the Box Ghost. “Finally, a buffoon ghost!”

“Hey!” the Box Ghost protests. He shoots Danny a look, who shrugs.

Then Juliette turns and pats Danny consolingly on the arm. Her voice is warm and sympathetic as she tells him, “It is all right, Danny. You should go hide. No one will judge you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Danny mutters. He knows he's the one who came up with the 'Danny Fenton is scared of ghosts' lie so he only has himself to blame, but he's already regretting it. "I'll just, uh, go hide then." He throws in a fake, "Aaah, ghosts," for good measure, but Juliette is already filming the Box Ghost again. 

Danny bolts for the nearest hiding spot as Sam says, “Don’t be such a baby, Tucker. People all over the world live on little to no meat every day--”

“That is the saddest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Tucker informs her.

Well, Danny reflects as his friends’ voices begin to rise, at least some things weren’t going to change.