Ghoulfriends Forever

by Gitty Daneshvari

  Venus carefully eyed the boy, amazed by how normal he appeared. Actually, so normal-looking was the boy that she couldn’t help but think the whole thing was rather abnormal!

  Venus raised a finger to her lips, quieting Rochelle’s and Robecca’s murmurs as she led them into the grand purple-and-gold assembly hall. Styled in an Egyptian motif, the large room had statues of pharaohs and sphinxes surrounding the stage. And while Venus was too busy looking for seats to notice the interior, Robecca found the place absolutely magical; she was utterly dazzled by the sparkles and shimmers of the room. Rochelle, on the other hand, found the decor dreadfully tacky and reminiscent of a ride at Grislyland.

  After searching futilely for open seats, Venus directed the girls to a pocket of space along one of the auditorium’s pathways.

  “As you know, gargoyles adore sitting on the ground, since we’re less likely to break furniture that way. However, it is my duty to mention that this is a violation of the school’s fire code,” Rochelle whispered fervently.

  “Duly noted,” Venus responded as she lowered herself to the ground.

  “Isn’t this fun? I feel like we’re at camp,” Robecca said in her sweet yet naive manner.

  While cold and hard, the floor actually provided the girls with a fantastic view of the stage. Miss Sue Nami, Mr. D’eath, a gaggle of other teachers they didn’t recognize, and a few trolls sat staring at Headmistress Bloodgood as she desperately tried to remember what she wanted to say. Much like steam escaping a boiling kettle, the words had simply evaporated from her mind. More than once she began to speak, only to silence herself seconds later. And then just when she was on the verge of forgetting that she had forgotten anything at all, it came rushing back to her.

  “Welcome to Monster High! We are wonderfully frightened to have you here, as this is sure to be our best and most monstrous term yet. There really is nothing quite as exciting as the start of a new semester. For at the beginning you have the opportunity to achieve anything you put your mind to. And as someone whose mind is currently on the fritz due to an unfortunate encounter with lightning, I can tell you what a terrible thing it is to waste,” Headmistress Bloodgood said before a bewildered look crossed her face. “What was I saying? Oh yes, of course, the drama department is spectacular here at Monster High. The Gory Gazette even called last year’s performance of A Midsummer’s Night Scream ‘a real howler’!”

  “Ma’am, we were not discussing the drama department,” Miss Sue Nami called out. She then approached the headmistress and whispered in her ear, “We are welcoming back the students.”

  “Thank you, Miss Sue Nami. Your memory of my memory is quite helpful,” Headmistress Bloodgood acknowledged sincerely before turning to the audience. “We are absolutely ecstatic to welcome our first class of boarding students to Monster High! As the majority have come to us from faroff places, we converted the east wing’s second floor into a dormitory for them! We do hope you like it here, new ones!”

  Polite applause filled the Vampitheater as Venus nudged both Rochelle and Robecca. Headmistress Bloodgood was talking about them!

  “Now, to introduce another exciting new addition to our school, I would like to call Frankie Stein and Draculaura to the podium.”

  Two beautiful girls slowly mounted the steps to the stage. Frankie Stein, the daughter of Frankenstein, was hand-sewn, with skin the color of mint chip ice cream, while Draculaura, the daughter of Dracula, was a peppy, pink-haired girl with perfectly sculpted white fangs.

  “Hey, everyone, in case you don’t know me, I’m Frankie Stein, and this is my good friend Draculaura. It seems like only yesterday that I was the new ghoul at school, trying to find my way around campus. But now look at me! I’m here to introduce another new ghoul—or, rather, the new teacher,” Frankie said before deferring to Draculaura.

  “Please give a warm welcome to Miss Sylphia Flapper, direct from Bitealy, here to teach Dragon Whispering 101,” Draculaura said enthusiastically, holding her hands up in the air to applaud.

  A beautifully delicate European dragon, closely surrounded by trolls, stepped forward to wave to the audience.

  “Oh, and she didn’t come alone,” Frankie added. “She’s brought a team of elderly trolls with her, who, under Miss Sue Nami’s guidance, will be patrolling the halls.”

  “We trolls! Follow rules!” the oily senior citizens surrounding Miss Flapper grunted aggressively at the crowd.

  “As you can see, they are still in the process of learning English,” Draculaura remarked before muttering under her breath, “and, from the looks of it, nail and hair care as well.”

  Trolls, especially older ones such as these, were exceptionally good at maintaining order except where their physical appearance was concerned. They wholeheartedly refused to cut both their hair (and, sadly, that included nose hair) and their claws. But perhaps most egregious, they refused to bathe more than once every fortnight—hence the thick layer of brown grime atop their skin.

  The new teacher stepped up to the microphone as Frankie and Draculaura moved aside. “Hello, lovely ghouls,” Miss Flapper uttered in a soft yet raspy voice, which enraptured all within earshot. “I am so honored to be here with you, though I do, of course, miss my colleagues and students in Bitealy. However, they were kind enough to send this amazing cavalry of trolls with me. They are not only expert hall monitors but also wild-dragon wranglers. I certainly hope you find them as delightful and charming as I do.”

  Miss Flapper’s silky tone was exquisitely matched by her captivating physical beauty. With iridescent skin, a heart-shaped mouth, blazing green eyes, and long bloodred hair, the woman was absolutely breathtaking. And like all European dragons, she had not a scale or tail in sight. She was dressed head to toe in couture, skillfully tailored to fit around her delicate off-white wings.

  “Talk about the bee’s knees! That woman is gorgeous,” Robecca murmured quietly.

  “I wonder what she uses to exfoliate,” Rochelle pondered while self-consciously rubbing her hard granite legs. “Her skin looks so soft.”

  “I can’t believe she’s a wild-dragon whisperer. They’re usually all burned and crispy after years of accidents and whatnot,” Venus muttered as Frankie Stein once again took to the podium.

  “As many of you know, we are fast approaching the Dance of the Delightfully Dead. And here to tell you more about this year’s plans are reigning Scream Queen and King, Cleo de Nile and Deuce Gorgon.”

  The crowd cheered loudly as a mummirific Egyptian princess with coffee-colored skin and black-and-gold tresses took to the stage. Walking immediately behind her was a handsome boy sporting sunglasses and a snake-hawk—a Mohawk of snakes.

  “Hey, kids. Cleo here, with my boyfriend, Deuce. As usual, the Dance of the Delightfully Dead will be held the day after quarterly exams, at Salem’s oldest cemetery, the Skelemoanian. It’s the most important event of the year, so please dress accordingly. In other words, no matted fur, no yellow fangs, and definitely no dried scales.”

  “Party starts promptly at eleven PM and ends at sunrise,” Deuce said before being rammed to the side by Miss Sue Nami, who knocked his glasses askew in the process.

  And before Deuce was able to slip them back over his eyes, a troll wandered directly into his line of vision. The oily little creature instantly turned to stone, prompting Deuce to grunt in frustration. “Not again!”

  “Per the schedule, the assembly is now over. All nonadult entities are to exit in a single-file line,” Miss Sue Nami instructed before shaking herself like a wet dog. “Class schedules are being e-mailed to you at this very moment. If you do not have an iCoffin phone, make friends with someone who does and then use that person’s device to check your e-mail.”

  A crush of monsters filled the halls, all excitedly checking their iCoffins.

  “Dear me!” Robecca babbled as she bumped into her new dorm neighbor, Cy Clops, causing her knee gear to squeak loudly. “Oops, sorry about that! Clearly it’s time for an oil chang
e!”

  “Crowds can be very dangerous,” Rochelle explained seriously. “Monsters often wind up with broken claws, bruised paws, or pulled fur.”

  “Um, it’s a bunch of teenagers, not Transylvania during a full moon. I think we can handle it,” Venus replied.

  “While you may choose to ignore a gargoyle’s warning, a gargoyle must never choose to ignore an opportunity to warn,” Rochelle said primly.

  “Is that from a fortune cookie?” Venus scoffed, pulling her iCoffin from her recycled book bag.

  “Absolutely not. Gargoyles do not believe in either fortune-tellers or fortune cookies,” Rochelle replied seriously. “We do, however, really like Chinese food.”

  “Isn’t this swell? We’re in all the same classes!” Robecca said excitedly while comparing iCoffins.

  “Yeah, but we didn’t get Dragon Whispering 101,” Venus grumbled. “I’m really disappointed. Reptiles love me.”

  “Not me. I’ve never been too fond of whispering. It seems to me people only whisper when they’re saying things they shouldn’t be saying,” Robecca explained.

  “Hey, are you guys new?” Frankie Stein approached the trio, with a zombie walking slowly behind her.

  “Is it that obvious?” Venus replied.

  “Well, you’re the only ones left in the hall except the trolls. I’m Frankie Stein, by the way, and this is Ghoulia Yelps.”

  “Grrrrnnn,” Ghoulia mumbled, much to the confusion of Venus.

  “I’m guessing that you don’t speak zombie,” Frankie said.

  Venus shrugged.

  “Bonjour,” Rochelle jumped in. “I am Rochelle Goyle, and this is Robecca Steam and Venus McFlytrap. We’re roommates in the new dorm.”

  “That’s so voltage! You’ll love it here! Let me know if you guys need anything.”

  “By any chance do you know how to get to Ghoulish Literature with Dr. Clamdestine?” Rochelle inquired, reading the details off her iCoffin.

  “That’s in the Libury—straight ahead, turn right at the tombstone and left at the mounted horn. Good luck!” Frankie called out before making her way down the hall with Ghoulia following in her wake.

  the Libury was a cold and drafty place filled with dust bunnies, creaky furniture, and the greatest monster stories ever told. Organized by species, the tales featured or were written by every type of creature imaginable, from the popular to the obscure. These volumes were more than just Ghoulish Literature; they were Monstory—the history of monsters as told by the creatures themselves.

  Dr. Clamdestine entered the Libury just as the bell clanged, signifying the start of class. Dressed in a tweed suit with dark brown patches at the elbows and carrying a large leather satchel, the middle-aged sea monster definitely looked the part of literature professor, albeit one with a faint whiff of salt water.

  “Students,” Dr. Clamdestine greeted the class before dramatically lowering his head for a thirty-second period of silence. After which he pulled a pipe from his jacket pocket and continued. “I find cleansing my mental palate very helpful before diving into Ghoulish Literature.”

  “Pardonnez-moi, Dr. Clamdestine, but smoking is definitely not allowed at Monster High. Plus, it is very, very bad for you,” Rochelle stated firmly.

  “And us. It totally makes me wilt,” Venus whispered to Rochelle.

  “This isn’t a pipe, young gargoyle. It may look like a pipe, but it is definitely not a pipe. In actuality, it is a well-carved hunk of cheese, one that I will likely eat for lunch later. You see, teaching is very similar to acting; both professions use props to aid in the accessing of different characters. And this cheese pipe is currently helping me access my intellectual persona, the great Dr. Clamdestine.”

  “Dear me, I think that sounds a lot more like a circus performer than a teacher,” Robecca muttered to Venus and Rochelle.

  “Now then, for my monologue, also known as roll call,” Dr. Clamdestine said while putting away his cheese pipe and pulling out a clipboard. “Lagoona Blue? Draculaura? Jackson Jekyll or Holt Hyde? Deuce Gorgon?”

  As the names of her classmates echoed throughout the room, Rochelle eyed the eternally sunglasses-clad Deuce Gorgon. She found him both handsome and intriguing. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t crafted out of granite or because she was one of the few people at school who might one day look into his eyes. Since she was already made of stone, Deuce’s Gorgon snake stare posed no threat to her.

  “Cleo de Nile?” Dr. Clamdestine continued.

  Upon hearing the name of Deuce’s girlfriend, Rochelle quickly snapped out of her haze, remembering that she too was taken! Why, only a few days earlier in Scaris, she had said goodbye to her lovable gargoyle boyfriend, Garrott. Just thinking about Garrott filled her with overwhelming guilt.

  While Rochelle pondered the moral implications of her burgeoning crush, Venus sat next to her, seething with rage over Cleo de Nile’s large collection of shopping bags.

  “Look at all those paper bags! It’s downright irresponsible. She’s basically a tree killer,” Venus spouted angrily to Robecca and Rochelle.

  “Jeez Louise, Venus, don’t you think ‘tree killer’ is a bit harsh? Maybe she just forgot her reusable shopping bag at home. I forget things all the time,” Robecca squeaked, hoping to appease Venus’s growing environmental rage.

  But Venus was not the type of monster who was easily placated. And before Robecca knew it, Venus was waving her light green arms in the air, desperate to garner Cleo’s attention.

  “Hey, Cleo, over here. The name’s Venus. I’m new to Monster High.”

  “Welcome,” Cleo responded frostily.

  “It looks like you did some serious back-to-school shopping this morning. That must have been a lot of fun. But do you know what would have been even more fun? Bringing your own reusable bag to the Maul and saving a tree’s life!”

  “Why are you talking to me about my bags and trees and stuff? Do I look like a forest ranger or garbage collector to you?”

  “I’ll have you know that those are two of the noblest professions in the world. They are on the front lines every day fighting antienvironmentalists like you! Do you even realize that we need trees to produce oxygen?” Venus declared as her vines curled tightly around her fists.

  “Fight like you’re right! Fight with all your might!” a lone pumpkin head sang from his perch in the corner of the room.

  “Way to spaz out, weed,” Cleo replied before turning to Clawdeen Wolf. “She is definitely not Fearleading or Frightingale material.”

  The Frightingale Society was the school’s all-girls social club—a literal who’s who of teenage monsters and, as such, very hard to get into.

  “Ah, mate,” Lagoona Blue exclaimed in her bubbly Australian accent, “she’s just trying to keep the world healthy for all of us.”

  “Whatever,” Cleo replied as Venus’s face continued to grow redder with rage.

  “Venus, I’m concerned about your blood pressure; you look like you’re about to explode. I would advise you to continue this conversation later,” Rochelle interjected.

  “The planet cannot wait for later!” Venus professed while dramatically flinging her hands in the air, green vines flailing about wildly.

  “How about I see you later? Or better yet, never?” Cleo answered cuttingly.

  Venus’s nose twitched and her cheeks bulged before she expelled a most thunderous sneeze. The bright orange cloud of pollen descended upon Cleo de Nile, miraculously missing any of the surrounding students.

  “Babe, are you okay? Are your clothes okay?” Deuce asked sweetly, worried that Cleo might be more distressed about the state of her clothing than anything else.

  “Of course I am,” Cleo said with uncharacteristic warmth and kindness before turning to Venus. “Thank you for showing me the error of my ways. You’re absolutely right; it is irresponsible to shop without a reusable bag. As a matter of fact, I am going to commission a solid gold bag that will last forever! Thank you, Venus, thank you!”


  “A solid gold bag would be very heavy, nearly impossible to carry,” Rochelle mumbled to herself.

  Deuce then sweetly put his hand on Cleo’s forehead. “Babe, you’re really freaking me out right now. Are you sure you’re not upset about being sneezed on?”

  Having watched the drama unfold as if it were a theatrical production staged for his enjoyment, Dr. Clamdestine finally decided it was time to step in.

  “Let me guess. Venus McFlytrap?”

  “Yes, that’s me, Dr. Clamdestine.”

  “Pollens of persuasion are strictly prohibited at school.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry,” Venus said with discernible regret. She couldn’t believe she had lost control of her pollens so soon after arriving at Monster High.

  “As a connoisseur of drama, I appreciate your passion. However, as a teacher, I cannot allow you to use your pollens of persuasion without repercussions,” Dr. Clamdestine explained. He then called into the hall, “Troll? Troll? Would the closest troll please come to the Libury?”

  Within seconds, an extraordinarily chubby gray-haired troll with a pulsating red nose waddled into the room. After looking around for a few seconds, the troll followed Dr. Clamdestine’s gaze directly to Venus McFlytrap. The troll then toddled over to Venus, promptly wiped his nose on his hand, and motioned for her to follow him into the hall.

  “Bon chance,” Rochelle whispered while waving her pink-monogrammed handkerchief in the air.

  “Don’t let him eat you,” Robecca added.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” a quiet voice came from behind Robecca. “Trolls are vegetarians.”

  It was Cy Clops, and as usual the shy boy was staring at the ground with his arms awkwardly crossed.

  “Good golly, that is good to know, thank you,” Robecca replied, to which the boy merely nodded his head.

  Once in the main corridor, the troll again used his grimy hand as a tissue. It was a visually arresting sight, one that prompted Venus to look down at the purple-checkered floor in disgust.