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Tucker met Sam at her house so that they could go over the school records they found for Daniel Fenton. At this point, they’re not superseded to find that there isn’t much there. There’s a transcript from his middle school that has mostly B’s and a couple A’s, and then there’s grades from his freshman year at high school showing similar grades. But there wasn’t anything for grades ten through twelve. There was only a note saying that Daniel hadn't returned to school the next year.
That in itself might not have been too strange if it hadn't been for everything else they’d been going through. Sam had finally told Tucker about what she’d seen when she’d gone to the Fenton house. A basement that looked like a lab with an empty hole in one wall and whose door had been hidden.
A boy locked in a cage in the basement. A boy with a metal visor covering his eyes and a metallic contraption covering the lower half of his face. Both metal contraptions glowing with little green lights.
Tucker felt his chest constrict in panic every time he thought about it. She didn’t remember many other details which Tucker didn’t fault her for. If he’d seen something like that he would have also taken off running. And the brain was very good at forgetting or distorting things that had traumatized you.
Tucker had hugged his knees to his chest and told her about the ghost he kept seeing out of the corner of his eye.
They had sat quietly next to each other after that.
“I don’t think we can just ignore what’s happening.” Sam had whispered.
“No.” Tucker had agreed, dropping his head to rest on his knees.
After a moment of silence, Sam spoke up again. “I’m sorry.” she whispered, sniffling. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t messed with that stupid ouija board…”
Tucker had sighed, moving to lean his head against his shoulder. “There’s no way you could have known that something would actually happen.”
“No, but—”
“Hey, look at me,” Tucker said, interrupting her. He turned to look at her and waited for her to do the same. “Even if it was your idea, I could have told you no. I could have told you not to do it. We both thought nothing would happen.”
“But something did. And it’s my fault. You can’t tell me it wasn’t. It was my idea and I refused to listen to you. And now we’re both suffering because of it.”
Tucker wasn’t sure what to say to that. It had been her idea, but he didn’t blame her. She’d been curious, wanted to try something new and creepy. “I don’t blame you.” he chose to say. “And we’ll deal with this together.”
“Where do we even start?” Sam said. “We’ve barely found anything, and the little we have found doesn’t have any dates.” She collapsed back onto the bed they’d been sitting on. Tucker followed laying down next to her. “What are we even supposed to do? Do we just need to figure out what happened? Free him from the cage? Or is there some unfinished task that we need to help with? How are we supposed to know!” she said, her voice rising with desperation.
Tucker was silent for a moment. “We could ask around. My parents have lived here their whole lives. Maybe they know something about the Fentons. Some of the older teachers might also know something.”
“Ok.” Sam said quietly. “Can you ask your parents when you get home?”
“Yeah, sure.”
They laid together in silence for a while before halfheartedly playing a few rounds of Doomed.
When Tucker went home he found his parents in the kitchen. He went straight to them, hoping to figure out anything that he could report to Sam.
“Hey, mom, dad?”
“Yes?” his mom asked, turning away from the pot of stew she was stirring.
“Did you guys know the Fentons?”
“Why do you ask?” his dad said, turning to him and setting down his coffee mug.
Tucker shrugged. “Just curious. I hear rumors at school and was wondering if you knew them.”
“Hmm…” his mother hummed, absentmindedly adding more spices to the stew. “I can faintly remember them. I think their daughter was a senior when I was a freshman. But I don’t remember much apart from that. The Fentons kept to themselves I think. Do you remember anything else, Maurice?”
“Not really.”
“Do you remember how they died?” Tucker asked.
They frowned. “Not really.” his mom responded, turning back to the stove.
“Wasn’t it an accident?” his dad said, “No, it must have been old age.” He corrected himself, but his voice sounded off.
“Yeah, old age.” his mother agreed, her voice also sounding off.
Tucker frowned. The ghost at the edge of his vision grew agitated. Something was definitely going on. Something he wished he could ignore. Then he thought of something. “You said their daughter was a senior when you were a freshman?”
“If I remember correctly.”
“What about their son?” Tucker asked.
His dad frowned. “I don’t remember a son.”
“Yeah, I don’t think they had a son. Just a daughter.” His mother agreed, not looking away from the stove.
Tucker frowned. They weren’t actually sure what the age difference was between the sister and Daniel. Tucker ignored the ghost hovering at the edge of his vision. He wished the ghost would be useful and just answer the questions himself, or tell them what they needed to do.
Then he thought of another question. “Do you know what that building on Avenue D street was? The one that’s burned?”
“That used to be where the Nasty Burger was. Though back then it was actually called Tasty Burger. No idea why they changed the name.”
Tucker froze, something in him was screaming. Somehow the building had to do with the Fentons, with Danny Daniel. The ghost disappeared from sight. Somehow, that wasn’t at all comforting.
When he told Sam, she reported similar results. All the adults she’d asked didn’t remember a son, and either couldn’t remember how the Fentons had died or said an accident before correcting themselves to say it had been old age.
But at least they had something new to investigate. They needed to figure out what had happened to the original Nasty Burger.