Middleton High School was exactly as I remembered it from the show, which is to say it was a neon-colored social experiment where the hierarchy was determined by your proximity to the cheerleading squad or your ability to handle a cafeteria "Naco" without immediate gastric distress.
I walked through the front doors, adjusting my backpack—which, naturally, contained a portable EMP generator and a sandwich—feeling the strange dissonance of being a fifteen-year-old with the soul of a cynical insurance adjuster.
"Morning, Danny!"
I didn't even have to look up to know it was Monique. She caught up to me at my locker, her style impeccable as always. The "Campbell" memories reminded me that she was Kim's best friend, but the "Possible" memories reminded me that she was the only person in this school who could keep up with a conversation that didn't involve the upcoming pep rally.
"You look like you're plotting something," she said, leaning against the locker next to mine. "That's your 'I just moved five billion dollars into a tax haven' face."
"It's my 'I didn't get enough sleep because I was tracking a rogue satellite' face," I corrected, though she wasn't far off. I gave her a small smile. "And for the record, it was only three billion. Diversification is key, Monique."
She laughed, assuming I was joking. That was the beauty of being a Possible; people expected you to say weird, genius things, so they never actually listened to the details.
"So, did you hear the news?" Monique asked, her eyes sparkling with the kind of gossip that fueled Middleton. "Principal Barkin announced it this morning. We're getting an exchange student. All the way from Amity Park."
I felt a surge of professional satisfaction. "Amity Park? Isn't that the place with the... persistent atmospheric disturbances?"
"The ghosts? Yeah. Apparently, the kid's parents are world-renowned experts in 'Post-Life Sciences,'" Monique said, rolling her eyes. "Kim's already worried he's going to be a weirdo. You know how she gets about 'unscientific' stuff."
"I'm sure he's perfectly normal," I said, shutting my locker with a satisfying thud. "Just a regular guy with a regular life. Probably."
In reality, the "Post-Life Science Exchange Program" was a shell corporation I'd set up three days ago. I'd sent an anonymous, highly convincing email to the Amity Park school board suggesting that a "change of scenery" would be beneficial for a student who had recently suffered a series of "unexplained absences and traumatic encounters with glowing green entities."
I had also made sure the Fenton family received a very generous "stipend" for the move. I wanted Danny Fenton where I could see him. If the world was going to start blending together, I needed the heavy hitters in one place. Plus, I figured the kid could use a break from being shoved into lockers by Dash Baxter. Here, he'd just be shoved into lockers by Barkin, which was a lateral move at best.
The hallway suddenly grew quiet as the front doors swung open.
A boy walked in. He looked exactly like the file Sheila had compiled: messy black hair, a slightly oversized hoodie, and a look of profound, soul-deep exhaustion that I usually only saw in the mirror after a 48-hour coding marathon. He was clutching a map of the school like it was a shield against the inevitable social rejection.
"That must be him," Monique whispered. "Danny Fenton."
"Danny, meet Danny," I muttered to myself.
I watched as Danny Fenton scanned the hallway. His eyes darted around, looking for exits, cameras, or perhaps a stray ghost dog. He looked like a deer in headlights—if the headlights were glowing green and screaming about "BEWARE!"
"I should go welcome him," I said, pushing off the locker.
"Since when are you the Welcoming Committee?" Monique asked, surprised. "Usually you're hiding in the AV lab until second period."
"New year, new me, Monique. I'm expanding my social portfolio."
I walked over to the new Danny. He was currently staring at a trophy case filled with Kim's cheerleading awards with an expression of pure confusion.
"It's a lot to take in," I said, coming up beside him.
He jumped about six inches into the air, nearly dropping his map. "I—uh—yeah. Is the whole school this... shiny?"
"Only when the janitor is trying to impress the school board," I said, holding out a hand. "I'm Danny. Danny Possible."
He took my hand, his grip slightly shaky. "Danny Fenton. Wait, your name is Danny too? That's going to be confusing."
"I'm the 'Possible' Danny. You're the 'New' Danny. We can work out the nomenclature later," I said, guiding him away from the trophy case before he accidentally phased through it out of sheer nerves. "So, Amity Park. I hear it's... spirited."
Fenton went pale. "You've heard of it? Most people just think it's a town with a very high rate of gas leaks."
"I keep an eye on the news. I'm interested in... unusual phenomena," I said, giving him a look that I hoped conveyed 'I know your secret but I'm not going to call the Men in Black.'
He didn't catch it. He was too busy staring at the Kimmunicator-style watch on my wrist. "Is that a satellite-linked comms array?"
"It's a watch," I lied smoothly. "My sister's the one with the gadgets. I just do the tech support. Come on, I'll show you to your first class. You have Barkin for History? My condolences."
As we walked, I felt the "Campbell" side of my brain screaming with delight. I was walking through a high school hallway with Danny Phantom. If I could just get Ben Tennyson to move here for a "soccer scholarship," I'd have the core of the team assembled before lunch.
"So," Fenton said, trying to make small talk as we dodged a group of cheerleaders. "Middleton. Anything I should know? Any... weird stuff? Giant robots? Talking animals?"
"We have a naked mole rat named Rufus who's basically a mechanical engineer," I said. "And my sister saves the world on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But other than that, it's pretty quiet. You'll fit right in."
Suddenly, Fenton stiffened. His eyes went wide, and I saw a tiny, translucent puff of blue mist escape his mouth.
My internal sensors went off. Ghost Sense.
"Uh, Danny?" Fenton stammered, his hand going to his chest. "Is there... is there a basement in this school? A really, really cold basement?"
"Sub-level one through five," I said, my heart rate spiking with excitement. "Why? Did you forget something?"
"I—I have to go. Bathroom. Now!"
He bolted toward the nearest restroom before I could even point him in the right direction. I watched him go, a smirk forming on my face.
"Sheila," I whispered into my watch. "Activate the school's internal sensors. Focus on the North Wing. We might have our first 'low-stakes' encounter of the semester."
["Already on it, Danny,"] Sheila's voice crackled in my ear. ["I'm detecting a Level 2 Ectoplasmic surge in the boiler room. It appears to be... a lunch lady? No, wait. It's a very angry spirit holding a spatula."]
"The Lunch Lady Ghost," I chuckled. "Classic. Welcome to Middleton, Danny Fenton. Let's see how you handle a school that doesn't serve 'Mystery Meat.'"
I turned toward the boiler room, my mind already calculating the best way to "accidentally" provide Fenton with the tactical advantage he'd need without revealing that I was the one who had invited the ghost to the party. After all, every hero needs a good debut.