I do not own Danny Phantom or any of the characters or props associated with the show. I'm not even trying to, so don't sue me. If you want the show (and are willing and able to continue it), please contact Butch Hartman and/or Nickelodeon Studios. I also do not own any book I use as material in this fic. This is a blanket disclaimer for all chapters, because I don't know how long this story's going to be or what's going to be in it.

Warning: This fic will probably be somewhat educational, which should become obvious once you read this chapter. There will be a small amount of Danny/Sam and Tucker/random girl pairings. Just be warned, this is fluffy. Oh yes, if it's not obvious by now, when I get bored, I go crazy.

1: Of Genius

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" Sam Manson said as she watched the brightly coloured doors of the Ghost Zone speed by the windows of the Specter Speeder.

"Because this plan is sheer genius." Danny replied calmly, if somewhat tensely, his hands on the steering wheel.

"So, Lancer tells you that you have to repeat English if you fail the final exam in a week, and all of a sudden we're in the Ghost Zone?"

"Left at that green door, Danny." Tucker, Danny's best friend, had his legs up on the dashboard of the vehicle. He had taken over the map when Sam and Danny started bickering twenty minutes ago.

"Remember Christmas, Sam?"

"When you basically ruined everything out of anger and then brought it all back because you'd, and I quote, 'seen the error of your ways'?" Sam glowered at Danny.

"Yeah. I never told you guys this, but there was this ghost who I'd offended who can write people into stories and stuff, and he wrote me into this poem and made me do all that stuff to kind of teach me a lesson."

Sam groaned.

"Don't tell me. Now we're going to visit this ghost who you've gotten on the bad side of so he can help you pass an exam by writing us into a story. Does this strike anyone else as a really bad idea, or is it just me?"

"Just you," chimed both Danny and Tucker. Sam rolled her eyes, then turned to stare out the window again.

"Danny! Right!"

"Thanks! There it is, guys, that house floating up there." Danny pointed.

"Nice." Sam half-smiled approvingly. "If that's what he lives in, maybe he's not all bad." It was a dilapidated house like you'd see in an old horror movie. And it was purple. No wonder the goth liked it.

Danny pulled the Speeder up to the base of the steps, and the three friends climbed out. Danny went ghost and walked up the steps to knock. Before he could even raise his hand, the door creaked open on its own. Sam grinned.

"I love this guy."

A tall ghost floated in the doorway. A long threadbare purple coat hanging off him like a cloak accented his purple skin and the purple wire ovals around his green eyes. A blue-gray scarf was draped around his neck and hung down the front of a white shirt. Ragged gray pants and bare feet completed the appearance of a poverty-stricken writer. The Ghost Writer ran a hand through his tousled black hair as he looked at the three teenagers on his doorstep.

"Danny? I haven't seen you since Christmas. No more outbursts, I hope?"

"No." Danny sounded slightly embarrassed. "I really am sorry about your poem."

"Forgiven and forgotten, lad. To what do I owe the honour?"

"I'd like help with something, and you're the only person I can think of who can give it."

"What sort of help, Danny? I only use my powers for good, you know."

"This is for good. Sort of. I need to pass my English exam or I fail the class, and I don't have time to read all the books that are on it."

"You'd like me to tutor you, is that it?"

"Basically, yes." Danny held out a list. The Ghost Writer took it and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

"I think I can do better than just tutoring you, Daniel. May I ask why you brought your friends?"

"Umm, actually, they're kinda backup, in case you were mad at me."

"WHAT!" Tucker obviously didn't take this well. "I'm ... Oof! Sam, why'd you ... hrgh." Sam had slapped her hand over his mouth.

"What do you mean by doing better?"

"After you destroyed my last keyboard, I happened to come by a new one, with advanced capabilities. In other words, I can send you into stories that have already been written, rather than stories that I write myself, if I choose." The Ghost Writer spun in midair, summoning the computer.

"So we'll actually be a part of the story?"

"We? Ooooh!" Tucker clutched his foot, glaring at Sam, who was looking at the walls of bookshelves. Whistling softly.

"Yes, right in the thick of things." The Ghost Writer was blissfully ignoring the violence in the background.

"We can do that, right guys? Okay, just put us in for the important stuff."

"It's all important."

"You know what I mean. Just enough so I can pass?"

"Very well. If you would be so kind as to stand over there..." A purple mist swirled around them.