Cookies: Part 2

Phantom rushed around his room, making sure he had everything ready to go. Today was a special day, it was the day he was going to Old Man Jenkins' house to spend time with his new friend, and he had to make sure everything was perfect. His clothes were clean, his guitar was ready, and he briefly logged onto his gaming platform to let the gamers that he usually spent every waking minute of every day playing with know he would be away for the day. Everything was ready, the only problem was Phantom wasn't.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to calm himself. It wasn't like Old Man Jenkins was going to try to set him on fire or anything, right? But the thought in the back of his mind that this was some sort of evil scheme just wouldn't leave. No, it couldn't be, Phantom truly believed the old man was his friend and he wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

With a heavy sigh, the ghost teen slung his guitar over his shoulder, stepped toward the window and took off to the sky. Phantom already knew the way to the old man's house, second house to the corner on Riverton Street; he'd walked him home the night before last. It was practically on the other side of the city, so he'd have to step on it if he wanted to make it there in good time. He picked up his pace and sped off, his heart pounding in his chest in anxious excitement.

He was just over halfway to his friend's house when his ghost sense stopped him.

"Oh great, now what?" Phantom rolled his eyes and looked around for the source that set off his ghost sense.

He was at the edge of the park, near a little kid playground by the sidewalk. There weren't any kids out, most likely because older people lived in this area that didn't have children or grandchildren. So what was the purpose of even having a playground there? Then the sound of softly squeaking metal caught Phantom's attention and he stopped to stare.

The sound came from the swing set as a young girl sat on one of the swings, lazily pushing herself with her feet in a gentle rocking motion. She looked like she wasn't much younger than Phantom, more like early to mid-teens, and seemingly very small for her age. She wore a plain looking light blue dress with buttons up either side, a clean white apron, black lace-up boots that went up to her knees, and black wrist gloves that went up to her elbows, which also had buttons along either side. Her long brown hair hung passed her face as she stared at a thick open book in her lap, humming a soft tune to herself. There was an old dark grey hobbyhorse propped up against the bar next to her. If Phantom didn't know any better, he'd say she looked almost like Alice from that Wonderland movie.

The ghost teen could tell she was a ghost by her pale grey skin and the glow around her body. She was most likely the ghost that his sense alerted him to. Phantom carefully strode toward her in his normal tough-guy stride, cautious as to whether she'd attack or not. She didn't seem to notice his advance, or at least she didn't pay any attention to him. He leaned up against the metal frame and folded his arms, just watching her as she continued humming and swinging slowly.

"What're you doing here?" he finally said, mostly just to get her attention.

The young girl slowly looked up at him, her blue eyes bright yet sad, "Just reading my favorite book," she said simply.

Phantom shifted slightly trying to look stern yet relaxed, "Why are you here?"

She smiled lightly, "I like the swings, I used to play on the swings a lot when I was little," and looked back down at her book.

The silver-haired teen glanced up at the hobbyhorse propped up against the pole next to him and lifted one of his hands to gentling fiddle with its torn leathery ear.

"Please don't touch that," the ghost girl said quickly but quietly without looking away from the page.

Phantom slowly pulled his hand away and folded his arms again as he continued to study her, "What's your name?" he finally said after a long pause.

"Anna Liddel," she looked back up at him with a slightly curious expression, "What's your name?"

He snorted, "Danny Phantom, I protect the city from ghosts."

"But … aren't you a ghost?" her eyes were questioning.

"Yeah, so?"

Anna furrowed her brow slightly, "It's just a little strange, a ghost protecting a city from ghosts. Why do you defend humans instead of other ghosts?"

Phantom flinched at the thought, being reminded how he protected the humans from his own kind—even though he still didn't consider ghosts to be his own kind—and why most of the townsfolk still somehow couldn't understand his good intentions. He then decided to change the subject, "So, Anna, are you gonna cause me any trouble?"

She cocked her head to the side, "No, I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to be left alone and mind my own business," her voice innocent and truthful.

The silver-haired teen studied her a few more moments until he was satisfied that she was telling the truth, "Alright," he stood straight up and began walking away, "Just be careful, okay kid?"

"I will," she replied and returned her attention back to her book and began humming once more.

Phantom had a feeling he'd see her again, and hopefully she'd keep to her promise that she didn't mean to harm anyone.

----------

It wasn't much longer before Phantom touched down on Old Man Jenkins' porch. Butterflies and varies insects swarmed inside his stomach as he tried to work up the courage to knock on the door. Even though he knew the old man was his friend, the notion was just so new to him that he was having trouble handling it. Up until now, his only real friends were Sam and Tucker, and of course his adopted sister Jazz. But it seemed as though that had changed, hopefully for the better.

Phantom swallowed hard, then raised his hand up and gently knocked on the wooden door. He could hear rustling inside and the door slowly opened. There stood Jerome, the old man's strong but kind German Shepherd. He wagged his tail in excitement as he saw the teen again and whimpered happily.

"Is that you Derek?" he heard Old Man Jenkins call from somewhere inside.

"Y-yeah, it's me," the ghost teen's voice cracked slightly.

"Well, don't be shy, come on in."

Jerome gently took the hem of Phantom's jacket sleeve in his teeth and carefully pulled him in. Once inside, the dog jumped up on the door and carefully pushed it closed. He grabbed the silver-haired teen's sleeve once more, led him into the front room to an old green couch and pulled him to sit down. Phantom found it slightly amusing how smart the dog was. He swung his guitar off his shoulder and carefully set it next to him, the wood quietly echoed as it touched the floor, then took his jacket off and draped it sloppily on the armrest as he got a bit more comfortable.

"I'll be out in a second, I'm making us some tea. Do you like one or two sugars in your tea?"

The teen scratched behind his head, "Actually, I don't really like sugar," and began studying the room.

It was a small yet simple house, the carpet was a faded orange-brown and most of the furniture was a strange teal green. An odd color combination, but it didn't bother Phantom, so he couldn't really complain. He sat on a long couch, large enough for three people, a dark wooden coffee table sat in front of him with a thin cloth draped over it. There was an aged lay-z boy chair at the other end of the couch, matching the same color. Another small table sat next to the chair with an old shaded lamp. On the other side of the room was a beautiful Baby Grand Piano, its dark finish shining and smooth in the light and free of any dust. A small window with ivory lace curtains was just behind the piano, overlooking the street. Phantom then noticed the smell of smoke that lingered against the fabric and walls, which didn't really bother him, considering his dirty little habit. Pictures of friends and family lined the walls; children laughing and portraits of couples. He knew Old Man Jenkins couldn't see them, but they probably brought comfort just having them there.

"Tacky, isn't it?"

The ghost teen nearly jumped out of his skin when the old man spoke. He was carrying a tray with a pair of teacups and a teapot; Jerome clung close to his side as his master walked with a slight limp.

"My grandfather never had good taste. Unfortunately, I inherited the furniture and house when he passed away, but I'm just glad I'm blind and can't see it," he joked.

Phantom laughed lightly and started to stand up, "Need any help?"

"I'm fine, I ain't crippled enough that I can't walk to my own chair yet," he smiled and carefully set the tray down, then stood straight and shivered, "Ooh, it sure got cold all of a sudden, let me turn the air conditioning down," and took a few steps toward a thermostat on the wall and turned the knob.

Phantom realized it was him that was making it so cold, since the air around him usually got colder when he was in any form of emotional distress, whether it was fear, anger, or depression. So he willed himself to calm down as the old man made his way back to his lay-z boy and eased himself into it. Jerome curled up next to him and began dozing off. The silver-haired teen sat back down and scooted closer to pick up his cup to take a sip. Even though he wasn't fond of sweet things, or even tea in particular, it was actually quite tasty. They sat in mildly awkward silence as they just sipped at their tea when Phantom heard the click of a lighter and glanced up to see Old Man Jenkins lighting up an old wooden pipe.

"So," he exhaled deeply, "How have you been these past couple days? Doing better than last time we spoke I hope."

"Well, kinda," Phantom finished his tea then set the cup down, "My dad gave me a hard time about being out so late again and accidentally waking him up, but other than that nothing's really been going on."

Phantom didn't like referring to Jack as his dad, considering their current 'relationship', but he had to play along if he didn't want to blow his cover.

"What were you doing out late?" Old Man Jenkins asked as he took another toot from his pipe.

The ghost teen flinched as he tried to come up with a story, "I was just out late with my friends and lost track of time is all. It kinda irritates me that he's harder on me than my brother about things like that."

"Sounds like he's trying to play favorites," the old man leaned forward slightly, "Don't let it get to you son, he doesn't know what he's got and he'll regret it one day if he loses you."

I highly doubt that, Phantom thought to himself as he shuffled his feet. He watched his friend puffing on his pipe and it made his tobacco monkey start to scratch at his back. But he ignored it and decided to mind his manners. Believe it or not, Phantom could actually be polite when he wanted to be. Then Old Man Jenkins opened a drawer in the small table to the side of the couch, pulled something out and tossed it to Phantom. The teen eyed it momentarily and realized it was a pack of cigarettes.

The old man seemed to read his mind, "I can feel you twitching for a smoke from over here, so go ahead and have one," he found his lighter and tossed it over to Phantom, "I know you're probably too young to be smoking, but I'd rather you have something to calm your nerves than to have you wig out on me."

Phantom laughed awkwardly and pulled one out of the pack. The old man was right about that, and it was scary how much he knew about a person even without being able to see him. He was a bit shocked that the man knew he smoked, especially since he hadn't told him that. But he probably knew because the teen had one before he came over, even though he practically ate an entire roll of mentos and hosed himself down with febreze. He lit it up and took a deep breath; it was menthol, surprising his cigarette of choice. They seemed to have a lot in common, which was also scary.

"Feel better?" he sipped his tea with his other hand that wasn't occupied.

"Much better," Phantom admitted.

Old Man Jenkins laughed, "Oh, I almost forgot," he set his pipe near an ashtray on the table and shakily got to his feet, waking his dog up and he followed his master to make sure he would be okay, "I've been working on something for you."

That peeked the silver-haired teen's curiosity, "Working on something? For me?"

The old man sat heavily down next to him on the couch, "Did you bring your guitar with you? I don't really feel up to going all the way to my bedroom and back here to get mine."

Phantom shook his head to bring himself out of his thoughts, "Y-yeah," he leaned over the retrieve it from where it sat and carefully handed it to his friend.

He strummed in it carefully and began turning the knobs, "Damn boy, I'm gonna need to teach you how to tune this properly."

The ghost teen blushed and scratched behind his head, "I've, uh, been kinda teaching myself, and watching youtube for advice."

"Well you should've come to me sooner so I could teach you properly," he joked as he continued to tune it for a few minutes before he was satisfied, "Now, I heard this song a while ago when my son brought me a few of his CDs that he didn't want anymore, and I was listening to it the other day and it reminded me of you. I've been working on picking out the guitar tune. I know you'll like it, especially since it's country."

Country is good, Phantom leaned back and practically melted into the couch as he started to relax, Jerome rested his chin in his lap.

Old Man Jenkins started up a slow tune and began quietly singing in a deep tenor voice.

You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless
Like you've lost your fight
But you'll be alright, you'll be alright

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend till you break
Cause its all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands shake it off
Then you stand, Then you stand

Life's like a novel
With the end ripped out
The edge of a canyon
With only one way down
Take what you're given before its gone
Start holding on, keep holding on

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend till you break
Cause it's all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand, yeah then you stand

Everytime you get up
And get back in the race
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place
Oh

Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend, till you break
Cause its all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands shake it off
Then you stand, Then you stand

Phantom could tell his friend meant every last word straight from his heart. It was a song he'd surprisingly never heard before, and he was glad, genuinely glad, that he heard it for the first time from this man. He was so touched by it that he had to fight back tears and keep from breaking down, stroking Jerome's head to try to distract himself. Old Man Jenkins must have sensed it as he carefully set the guitar down and patted the teen's shoulder with a heavy hand. They sat in silence for a while before the old man spoke up.

"So, are you ready for your first lesson?"

The ghost teen sniffed quietly and wiped his nose, hoping Old Man Jenkins didn't notice, even though he knew he would, "Yeah, let's get started."

----------

Phantom was a quick learner, and seemed to pick everything up with little effort. He'd still hit wrong notes on certain simple songs, but Old Man Jenkins assured him that it was best to start small and work his way up. Before they knew it, the sun had nearly set and the grandfather clock in the hall chimed ten times.

"It's getting late," the old man sighed as he patted his dog's head.

"Yeah," Phantom remembered how he'd been scolded last night for being out late, but hopefully he could sneak in without getting caught.

The old man walked him to the front door, Jerome following close behind. The teen shifted the guitar on his shoulder to make sure it was secure as his friend opened the door.

"When can I see you again?" he shuffled his feet nervously as he stepped outside.

Old Man Jenkins smiled, "Well, tomorrow I'm going to the park to feed the birds if you'd like to meet me there around one-thirty. I usually go a couple times a week."

"Sounds good to me," Phantom gave a thumbs up, then remembered the man couldn't see his hand and blushed in mild embarrassment.

The old man paused for a few moments, then thought of something, "Wait here," and walked back inside.

The silver-haired teen stood on the porch and did as he was told, then Old Man Jenkins returned shortly, holding a slip of paper with scribbled numbers and handed it to him.

"What's this?" Phantom looked over the paper.

"That's my phone number," he smiled, "I hope you can read it, I can't really see what I'm writing so all I can do is hope it's legible."

Phantom's heart pounded and his eyes light up in excitement, "No, I can read it just fine."

"Well, you can give me a call just about anytime you'd like, I'm almost always home and I'd like to be able to talk to someone when I get lonely."

The teen beamed, then flinched at the next question.

"Is it alright if I get your phone number? You know, if I'd like to call you sometime."

Shit! What do I say? What do I say? his mind raced for an explanation. He couldn't give him his phone number, what if Jack or Maddie answered the phone and he asked for 'Derek'? They'd have no idea who he was talking about and it could blow his cover, "Uh, my dad doesn't really like us just giving out our phone number … mostly cuz he always thinks the line is bugged … " which wasn't too far from the truth anyway.

He hoped that worked, then the man laughed lightly and smiled, "I understand son. Wouldn't want to make him angry right?"

You have no idea, Phantom thought to himself as he scratched the back of his head nervously. Jerome whimpered and licked his other hand as his way to say goodbye, "I'd better get going, I'll see you tomorrow."

Old Man Jenkins laughed again, "I'd say 'see you tomorrow' too, but I can't see you. So I'll just meet up with you tomorrow."

Phantom laughed at the clever joke, "Alright, have a good night," he said over his shoulder as he walked down the steps.

"You too son," the man said as he closed his door.

When Phantom was sure he was out of earshot, he flew up in the sky and headed for home. The song Old Man Jenkins sang to him worked its way back into his head, and he smiled as a single tear fell down his cheek. It was then he decided that he would wipe his hands, shake it off, then stand. Stand for all the world to see what he was made of. He hadn't lost his fight; he'd be alright. That was probably the most important lesson the old man had taught him, even more important than all the guitar lessons in the world.