Chapter Text
“I have convinced the school to let the spring play be a musical.”
Danny has never seen Mr. Lancer sparkle like this. His pupils would be stars if they could. And while it’s weird to see an adult express a fanatic interest in something, Danny’s not going to get in his way. It’s not like Danny’s a thespian. Or wants to be a thespian. The school play is never Danny’s concern.
“As the musical’s director,” again, Mr. Lancer sounds almost inappropriately giddy, “I have decided to do a production of Hadestown. I have also decided that anyone who participates will get extra credit in my class.”
Several students, including Danny, sit up straight.
“The more you impress me with your acting and dedication to the art of Broadway, the greater your extra credit will be.”
In his head, Danny does the math. His English grade is dismal, mainly because he found it boring. He has no interest in the stories and poems they read, which in turn means it takes ages for him to get through the reading, and that leads to it often being the homework he puts aside to do other assignments. English always gets shuffled to the bottom of his school priority list. To replace half of the points he’d lost via missed work last semester, he’d need 200 extra points.
As Mr. Lancer shares his rubric, Danny would either have to be the best chorus boy ever or get a singing part and be decent at it. The latter feels like less work.
“You should try out for Eurydice, just for the irony.”
“Who?” Danny twists to look at Sam.
“Eurydice. She’s one of the main characters in the play.”
“Why would I be a girl?”
“Because Eurydice is the person Orpheus wants to rise from the dead?”
“Yeah, but Orphesus is the one who actually travels the underworld,” Tucker leans around Sam. “So that’s more on the nose as we’ve all done that.”
“How do you know this?” Danny asks.
His two best friends turn to look at him. “Because we finished myths right before winter break?” Sam’s statement is more of a question. “And caught up on reading over the two weeks off?”
Danny winces. He did not do that. In fact, most of December is a blur, his anxiety and home stress getting tighter and tighter as the month went on. And after his showdown with Ghostwriter on Christmas, Danny pretty much gave up the written word until today, the first day back after break.
“I’ll just read the script,” Danny mutters.
“No, you won’t,” Tucker says confidently. “But I’ll blast the soundtrack during patrol tonight.”
One of the benefits of Sam getting her learner's permit is that Jazz no longer has to drive Danny to school. Sure, the logistics make a lot more sense, but Jazz has come to enjoy a morning on her schedule and not having to wait for Danny to pull himself out of bed and into the car.
This morning looked particularly rough. Danny had returned from patrol on time, but with a hoarse voice which indicated either a long fight with lots of yelling, or a painful one. Still, Jazz pauses with her keys in hand, Danny is up, even if he is sleep-brushing his teeth. Her being wouldn’t help that much.
She’ll be a good sister and get him something from the bakery.
Jazz hums as she drives; this early there aren’t a lot of people on the road, and she gets to Bones & Beans just as they open. Walking through the door and taking a deep breath is centering. This is one thing a day she does for herself. She doesn’t have to worry about Danny - it's too early for him to be wrapped up in something. The afternoons are for worrying about schoolwork. Evenings are for worrying about things like college, dinner, and laundry.
She smiles at the barista, who smiles back. It’s nice to see that Spike found something to break through his apathy of high school.
“Give me whatever monthly special you’ve created, Spike.”
“Coming right up.” He taps her order in with one hand, reaching for a paper cup at the same time.
Jazz lets her mind drift as Spike works the espresso machine, breathing in the aroma of coffee and running through her checklist of the day. Nothing too crazy. It all goes through the window the moment Spike hands her a ube latte; there's the screech of a loudspeaker and then the blast of an electric guitar from outside.
“When you hear this song, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!”
Jazz drops her coffee, splattering liquid all over the counter, before whirling toward the front windows. Out of nowhere, an open trailer had appeared, carrying two stacks of speakers and a band. Ember Mclain strums her instrument.
“When you hear my voice, hope it gives you hell!”
Ember’s always been a passionate singer, but there’s a frantic edge to her voice now. Her blue hair is forked, looking more like gorgon lochs than fire. More telling is the smear of her eyeliner, the curl typically on the edge smudged.
“Is that a new song?” Spike asks.
Quickly, Jazz stuffs her Fenton Phones in her ears. She taps it thrice, then waits for someone to jump on the line.
“Jazz?” Tucker asks. “Everything okay? We just pulled up to FentonWorks.”
“Ember’s at Bones & Beans.”
“It is 7:35 in the morning-”
“I don’t think she cares.”
“Okay, we’ll snag Danny and - he just flew out of his bedroom window. His ghost sense really has been expanding.”
“Kay. Thanks, Tucker.”
Jazz clicks the line off and turns to Spike, frantically trying to clean up the coffee. “Sorry. I’ll pay for another one. And an additional two muffins.” Might as well get Tucker and Sam something if they’re showing up.
“Uh, what?”
Jazz snaps her fingers in front of Spike’s face. It’s rude, but it disrupts the hypnotic nature of Ember’s song. “An ube latte and two muffins. Please.”
“Now where’s your hunter’s trophy? And where’s that mounted pelt?”
Jazz sighs. Ember and Skulker don’t fight as much as Johnny and Ember, but they are a lot more personal. It’s bound to happen when their obsessions don’t clash so much as leave little space for other people.
There’s people starting to crowd around the trailer, despite the early hour. “Ember!” someone waves out of a car as it goes by.
Jazz has to keep reminding Spike of her order, but as he’s steaming milk Danny arrives. He slams into Ember, tackling her to her trailer.
It’s not a typical move, and she thought they were on good enough terms to talk first. Jazz frowns. She can hear Ember shout and play chords, trying to attack Danny, who keeps dodging. The crowd that’s formed starts to murmur, not sure if they should wait for the song to continue or if this is the end of the impromptu concert. At least the lack of singing means Spike isn’t distracted. Jazz collects her fresh latte and three muffins for the rest of the ghost ghetters and heads out into the parking lot.
“Come on, baby bop, I just need to rage out, and singing is a lot better than other things.”
Danny frowns, opens his mouth, shuts it, then frowns harder. He gestures toward the now thinning crowd.
Ember’s brows furrow. She picks at her guitar, but doesn’t fight; instead, she’s looking at Danny. “Did something happen to your voice?”
Danny shakes his head.
“Prove it.”
She angles her guitar.
“Nothing happened,” Danny croaks.
He sounds so bad Ember’s fingers falter on the string, causing feedback on the speaker towers that make Jazz wince. She hovers at a safe distance, not sure if she should get involved.
“How in the world do you wreck your voice that bad?” Ember sounds vaguely impressed. “Like, even if I sang a rocking song for two hours, I wouldn’t sound like that.”
Danny crosses his arms.
There’s a squeal of tires as Sam and Tucker arrive in her converted hearse. They scurry to Jazz’s side.
“What’s going on?” Sam asks.
“Ember wants to know what happened to Danny’s voice.”
“Ooo,” Tucker says. “Apparently, Danny sucks at singing.”
Ember scoffs. “No one sucks at singing. They’re just untrained.”
“No, Danny really sucks. He can’t control his voice.”
“Tuck!” Danny’s voice cracks at the high pitch.
“No speaking, baby bop. You’re on voice rest today. You, tell me more.”
In a plume of smoke, her portable stage disappears, and Jazz lets the tension bleed from her shoulder. If Ember is more interested in figuring out what’s going on with Danny than climbing the charts with a breakup song, that’s fine with Jazz. She’s still welcome to flood the radio, of course, but she’d rather no more unplanned live concerts.
Tucker shrugs. “Not much to it. We got offered extra credit to join the school musical, and Danny needs a lot of extra credit.”
Jazz shoots her baby brother a look. He turns away and looks at the sky.
“So we tried singing to the soundtrack of the play last night.”
“And he was horrible,” Sam throws in. “He just wailed the whole time.”
“He sounds like he was screaming, not crying.”
“Wailed,” Sam presses. “Like, his sonic attack. Every time he tried to sing, that came out instead of a singing voice.”
Jazz winces. That sounded awful, but it also explains why she thought she heard wolves in the distance last night. Danny’s ghostly wail is a physical power house, a wall of sound that you can hear for at least a mile. It’s good that he’s working on the power, but it sounds like last night’s practice session was unintentional.
Ember flies a circle around Danny.
“Okay. I’m pissed at Skulker.”
“Of course,” Jazz says, “but you don’t need him.”
“Damn straight. He might try to be the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter, but he never will be. Not like I’ll have Earth cheering my name.”
“Uh-huh,” Jazz encourages, ignoring the looks she’s getting from Danny and her friends. She knows where this is going. Ember’s hair might not be on fire, but her eyes are. This is a woman looking for revenge in the form of an empowering ‘I’m better’ statement.
“And since he’s so focused on you, Phantom, let’s see how he likes it when you help me fulfill my obsession before you can help him fulfill his!”
“Skulker’s never gonna fill that if he’s only after Danny’s pelt,” Sam mutters, “He’s not won a fight in months. Should we be worried?”
“Nah,” Tucker says. “His obsession isn’t actually Danny, so we should be okay.”
“I,” Ember says, standing proud with her guitar over her back, “will teach you how to sing, and together we’ll release the best song ever.”
“I love it!” Jazz encourages. Ember redirecting her energy, Danny getting some training. Win-win in her book. “But make sure he also gets a part in the school musical, please. If Danny’s willing to go through all that effort to be a part of the play, he must really need the extra credit.”
She narrows her eyes at Danny, who glares right back. Her little brother is not failing under her watch.
“He’ll meet you in the park after school,” Jazz tells Ember.
“Tomorrow. You’re on voice rest.” Ember pokes Danny in the cheek. “That means no talking. Let your voice heal.”
“But school-”
Ember leans into Danny’s space. “No. Talking. If you’re gonna be my backup on my next track, I need you in tip-top form. Got it?”
Danny nods.
“What’s the musical anyway?” Ember asks.
“Hadestown,” Sam answers. “I’ll send you a link to the soundtrack.”
“Isn’t that the one about the underworld?”
"Yeah."
“Fitting. You trying out for Hades?” Ember asks Danny, who shrugs.
“We wanted him to be Eurydice. You know, because she’s the dead one,” Tucker grins. “It’s ironic.”
“It’d be ironic if he got the part of the king of the underworld since he’s, you know, king of the underworld. Sorta.”
Tucker and Sam share a look.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Tucker asks.
“I did. But I’m also not sure it’ll get him enough extra credit points. It’s a smaller role. He’d have to be the best Hades ever.”
Ember grins, fangs flashing. “Oh, he will be.”
Jazz has utter faith in Ember getting Danny a part.
They are late for homeroom, but it’s worth it for the (creepy) way Mr. Lancer lights up when Tucker tells him Danny’s on voice rest.
“Danny’s very serious about getting a part in the play, Mr. Lancer. He’s even hired a voice coach!”
“My my, Mr. Fenton. I’m impressed by your dedication. Noted.”
Danny glares at Tucker the entire way to their seats. “Relax,” Tucker slips into his desk. “Dedication equals more extra credit points, remember? This is a good thing.”
Sam takes her usual seat and passes out muffins. “From Jazz. I didn’t ask why, and I’m not sure it matters.”
Danny snatches one. He doesn’t eat as much as he used to, but also, there’s never stuff in the house he wants to eat. He’s not gonna pass up a baked good from a clean kitchen. He eats it slowly, trying to catch up on homework in the last ten minutes before the bell rings.
The day is awkward. Tucker or Sam tell their teachers what he’s doing, and they’re dubious, but allow it. It also makes it obvious just how much Danny talks in a day. Side comments to Tucker in class, asking for a specific side in the cafeteria, needing clarification on a topic from a teacher. He resorts to sending notes for that one, counting on his friends to read things aloud.
It does get him out of popcorn reading aloud in English, so that’s a bright bit. Things are trickier on patrol, but he ends up simply going where Sam directs him. It’s a quiet night, not even a few octopuses, to the point where he wonders if Ember told people to scram.
He gets home a little before midnight to find Jazz waiting for him on the couch. With a sigh, he transforms back and joins her. She hands over a cup of tea - lukewarm, but still nice.
“I know it’s not midnight yet, and thus not the next day, but I think it’s close enough. How’s your voice?”
Danny takes a gulp of tea, then speaks. “Fine.” He coughs away the dryness from not speaking. “Fine,” he repeats, sounding it. “Healing powers, remember?”
“Just making sure. Are you failing English?”
Danny sputters on his tea. “No! Um, I mean, I won’t.”
“Good. Because we’re halfway through the school year, and while high school is four years, only three go on your college application, so that means you’re halfway through what will be on your transcript. And you. Will. Go. To. College.”
“I would like to-”
“So you will let Ember teach you how to sing, you’ll get a part in the musical, earn as many extra credit points as you can, and if you cannot keep your grades at the level they were pre-accident, I’ll be joining your patrols again.”
“Jazz!”
“I don’t want this - ghost fighting all the time - to be all that your life is, Danny. I want you to have a future. Do things for you. And I get that college isn’t for everyone, but you’re so smart. I think you’d like it.”
Danny sighs. “I don’t want this to be what I do forever either,” he admits. “It’s just hard right now to prioritize anything, like school, over protecting the town.”
“We’ll figure it out. I feel like you’re getting into fewer fights, more arguments, and conversations. That’s progress!”
“Uh-huh.”
“And let me know earlier if you’re struggling, okay?” Jazz shakes Danny’s knees. “Then you could have avoided this whole musical drama.”
Danny smiles at his sister. She’s always looking out for him, and he really appreciates it. “I will. Thanks, Jazz.”
“Of course, Danny.”