Ghoulfriends Forever
Page 10
“I must admit, I feel rather guilty zombifying this creature without its permission. I don’t imagine that such behavior is condoned by the Gargoyle Code of Ethics.”
“Here, hand me the vial. Cyclopes don’t have a code of ethics,” Cy said as he took a thin glass tube filled with green fluid and small balls of Camembert cheese from Rochelle. “And the lighter?” Cy held the flame to the glass until the cheese balls had melted and the liquid was bubbling furiously. “Let’s hope this snake has a good sense of smell.”
The one-eyed boy then slowly lowered a dropper into the reptile’s jar. Utterly uninterested, the yellow-and-gray snake did not so much as move its head.
“It’s probably lactose intolerant and hates cheese!” Venus huffed.
“No, wait! Look!” Robecca said as the snake abruptly whipped its head back and attempted to drink from the dropper.
Having emptied the entire contents of the vial into the snake’s mouth, the four students waited anxiously for any sign of zombification.
“How are we supposed to tell if it’s moving slower if it’s not moving at all?” Rochelle wondered rationally.
“Its skin—it’s turning dull and ashen. And look at its eyes! They’re all bloodshot,” Cy said excitedly.
“Should we check its pulse, just to make sure?” Robecca pondered aloud.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Venus declared. “It’s time. We need to move.”
At exactly 11:50 PM, the quartet approached the main entrance, next to which stood a large limestone statue of Skelen Moania. Rather disturbingly, the sculpture was adorned in a floor-length pink Scaremès gown, a pair of delicately crafted wings, and a red wig in Miss Flapper’s honor.
“What a shameful waste of couture,” Rochelle grumbled as she came upon the first group of uniform-clad trolls.
“Remember, if anyone asks, we’re Clawdeen’s cousins from the poorly groomed side of the family,” Venus muttered under her breath to the others.
The sensation of being watched weighed heavily on each of them as they passed through the channel of trolls. Venus and Rochelle were able to control their anxiety, but Cy and Robecca could not. The boy suddenly felt itchy, as if his skin were battling against the oppressive werewolf costume. And though he was able to stop himself from scratching, the suppression of the urge resulted in terrible shaking. Why, it almost appeared as though the boy were having a seizure!
Next to him, the wisps of steam exiting Robecca’s nose intensified, growing stronger by the second. Unfortunately, the harder she tried to calm down, the tenser she became, in turn causing more steam to escape.
“What wrong you?” a troll grunted at a visibly shaking Cy.
“Oh, him? He’s just nervous he won’t be chosen Scream King because of his grubby fur,” Venus joked, looping her arm through Cy’s.
“What in your nose?” The troll pointed at Robecca.
“In the name of the flea’s sneeze, I do believe I’ve ruined it all,” she muttered quietly to herself as she fought the urge to cry.
“Call the Nami,” the troll instructed a nearby comrade.
“No. It normal for werewolf,” the other troll replied, waving them on.
When Venus looked back at him in surprise, she recognized her friend with the red nose.
The Dance of the Delightfully Dead was nothing like what they’d expected, not that any of them really knew what to expect. Instead of music and laughter, a literal wave of whispers washed over their ears. The sound was just as Cy had described it: akin to the hissing of a thousand snakes. Huddled between moss-covered mausoleums and crypts, monsters were devotedly whispering in one another’s ears. The foursome wandered through the crowds, carefully avoiding eye contact for fear of being recognized. Near the middle of the Skelemoanian, they discovered an elaborately built gold stage on which Miss Flapper stood like a queen greeting the masses. Dressed in a fabulous handcrafted black-and-gold frock, she was undeniably beautiful.
“Time check?” Venus asked Rochelle quietly.
The gargoyle swiftly pulled out her iCoffin. “Three minutes and twenty-two seconds until midnight.”
“Remember, as long as we do not diverge from the plan, we have at least a fifty percent chance of success,” Venus said stoically.
“I put us closer to forty-three point five percent,” Rochelle corrected her.
“Deary me, that is hardly a confidence boost!”
The four friends then patted one another on the backs and split in three different directions. Because of Robecca’s notorious time issues, Cy accompanied her. Plus, he couldn’t have left her side in the midst of all these monstrous maniacs.
Consumed with unbridled terror and spurred by a rush of adrenaline, the friends took their positions at the sides of the stage. At this point, Robecca experienced a momentary understanding of time. For as she and Cy watched their iCoffins, waiting for the planned moment to strike, her mind did not wander for one second.
Rochelle was first to act, at exactly 11:59:30, climbing atop a crypt and then flinging her granite body onto the stage. As expected, this deed garnered her the attention of a nearby troll. Without a second to spare, she broke into a mad dash. Though she moved at her customary slow speed, she felt fast on her feet for the first time in her life. In reality, though, she was only an inch from being captured, when she thrust her body around Miss Flapper’s feet, anchoring the teacher to the platform.
The trolls, now in a flurry, swarmed around the four friends. Venus unleashed a sneeze attack, spraying the approaching trolls with thick orange pollen. Robecca employed a similar tactic and steamed the trolls, aiming her vapors up their noses, instantly bringing them to their knees.
“It’s time,” Venus hollered before flinging the snake around Miss Flapper’s thin ivory neck.
Robecca then quickly steamed the dainty dragon in the eye, prompting her to scream uproariously. At which point Cy simply dumped the teaspoon of ground Fernish Bush into Miss Flapper’s open mouth.
“Attack! Traitors!” Miss Flapper hollered, sending Fernish Bush flying everywhere.
“No! She’s losing powder,” Cy screamed while Venus’s tightly curled vines fought Miss Flapper’s delicate but strong hands.
Rochelle held on to Miss Flapper’s thin legs, her claws accidentally shredding the bottom of the deranged dragon lady’s couture dress. “I feel terrible—this fabric is fangtastique!” Rochelle was mumbling to herself when she suddenly noticed the strange sound of silence.
All activity in the cemetery had ground to a halt, the monsters and trolls standing eerily still, almost frozen. While gazing dumbstruck at the crowd, Rochelle slowly let go of the now stationary Miss Flapper and stood up.
“Regardez! Everything’s stopped,” Rochelle quietly pointed out to the others.
“What does this mean?” Robecca whispered anxiously, steam dribbling out of both her ears.
“Maybe we did something wrong,” Cy hypothesized as he surveyed the mass of motionless monsters, all sporting looks of deep confusion.
“Oh no! What did we do to them? Did we make it worse?” Venus wondered aloud, her vines quivering under the stress of the situation.
Just then a light wave of whispers began to cut through the crowd. The formerly still monsters started yawning, rubbing their eyes, and stretching.
“I think they’re waking up!” Rochelle proclaimed excitedly.
The whispering grew loud and boisterous as the bewildered crowd roused to consciousness.
“Where am I?”
“What’s happening?”
“How did I get here?”
“It worked!” Venus shouted, jumping up and down.
Not to be outdone by a bit of jumping, Robecca flipped on her boots and soared gloriously into the air. So spectacular and daring were her aerial maneuvers that the confused monsters were momentarily distracted. For a few seconds, they weren’t wondering why their brains felt fuzzy; they were merely marveling at the great talent of one of thei
r own.
“In the name of the bee’s knees, I do believe we’re free!” Robecca shouted joyfully before her feet once again touched the ground.
“Free from what? I don’t understand what we’re all doing here,” Frankie Stein said, rubbing her tired green forehead.
“Hey, where’s Miss Flapper? We’re supposed to be on a date,” Mr. D’eath groaned with understandable disappointment.
Before Robecca, Venus, or Rochelle could answer, Cleo de Nile stormed through the crowd, seething with rage. “Wait a minute! Is this the Dance of the Delightfully Dead? Why am I dressed in such a hideous outfit? Is this some kind of joke?” the Egyptian princess whined while looking down at her brown corduroy dress with a ferret’s face embroidered on the front.
“Students,” Headmistress Bloodgood said calmly, “let me explain.”
“With all due respect, Headmistress, you can’t explain. You haven’t a clue what’s happened here,” Rochelle stated firmly.
“Well, I can’t say that surprises me. Perhaps we should ask Miss Sue Nami instead?”
“Ma’am,” the waterlogged woman barked loudly, “I am unfortunately incapable of remembering anything that has transpired. It’s all fuzzy and vague, like a dream I can’t quite recall.”
“Well, I must say, that is a surprise!” Headmistress Bloodgood exclaimed.
“My last clear memory is of storming through the main corridor in search of Miss Flapper,” Miss Sue Nami explained as she pulled at her tight military uniform.
“That’s weird. The last thing I can recall is Miss Flapper too,” Clawdeen muttered, inadvertently setting off a chain of Miss Flapper memories among the monsters. Soon all eyes had turned to the elegant teacher, who was still standing in the middle of the makeshift stage.
“What did you do to us?” Jackson Jekyll screamed angrily.
“This is too crazy! Ve need to take a nap,” Blanche Van Sangre moaned before she and her sister slipped into a nearby crypt.
“I’m so sorry, but I haven’t the faintest idea who any of you are or, for that matter, where we are,” Miss Flapper murmured emotionally.
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Venus said, rolling her eyes.
Miss Sue Nami herded Sylphia Flapper, along with the rest of the students and faculty, into the Vampitheater so that Venus, Robecca, Rochelle, and Cy could explain the madness that had ensued in the prior weeks. Everyone gasped at the stories, and Miss Flapper collapsed into a heap of tears, the likes of which no one had ever seen. The dainty woman shook violently as she sobbed, clearly horrified by her actions. She claimed that she too had been under a spell that had forced her to act in such horrid ways.
Draculaura wiped away tears of empathy. “Poor Miss Flapper!”
“I know how painful it is not to be able to remember, and I can only imagine how painful it must be to not want to remember,” Headmistress Bloodgood said wisely.
“Ma’am, I need to advise against fraternizing with the enemy,” Miss Sue Nami stated bluntly before performing her signature shake-off all over the headmistress.
“Don’t be silly, Miss Sue Nami. Miss Flapper is as much a victim as any of us….”
But Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus weren’t so sure; the word victim rang in their ears, taunting them in their uncertainty over what had transpired.
In the days that followed, Monster High fell back into its normal routine, albeit with more homework. The era of whispering had left the students behind in their studies, forcing them to learn twice as much as usual just to catch up. Dr. Clamdestine, Mr. Hack, and the other teachers even took to offering study sessions on the weekends. And following an intense debate, Headmistress Bloodgood and Miss Sue Nami decided to keep the elderly trolls on, as they were rather good at maintaining order. Plus, there was nowhere else for them to go.
In the aftermath of the disturbing occurrence, there was a sincerely heartening development: The students and faculty pulled together, determined to get their lives and their school back to normal. However, in their determination to put the whispering incident behind them, no one voiced a vital question—a question that Robecca, Venus, and Rochelle couldn’t seem to get past. If Miss Flapper was, in fact, a victim like the rest of them, then who put her up to this? And, more important, why?
“I can’t believe it’s already time to pick our classes for next term,” Robecca groaned as she climbed beneath her mummy-gauze sheets with her pet penguin.
“Robecca, you seem to have tucked the wrong end of Penny into bed,” Rochelle said, pointing to the penguin’s small metal feet sticking out from beneath the covers.
“Deary me!” Robecca replied with a laugh.
“So, what are you guys thinking for next term? Should we take Miss Flapper’s Dragonomics class?” Venus asked the others provocatively.
“After watching our school fall under a spell and having to single-handedly rescue everyone, I am rather inclined to take it easy next term and avoid any areas of drama,” Rochelle responded.
With raised eyebrows, Venus inquired, “Does that mean you’re going to leave Mr. D’eath alone?”
“Of course not! I am a gargoyle; I cannot have an incomplete mission on my record! I will not rest until I see that man smile!”
“Well, thankfully, you still have a few years left at Monster High,” Robecca joked.
“I don’t need years; I have you guys,” Rochelle said seriously. “Haven’t you heard? Part of being ghoulfriends forever means we have to support one another, no matter what.”
“I couldn’t agree more! Ghoulfriends forever! I am absolutely thrilled to have a gargoyle as one of the founding members of Monster High’s compost heap!” Venus smirked.
“Venus, s’il ghoul plaît, let’s not get carried away….”
epilogue
Two months after the Dance of the Delightfully Dead, a DeadEx arrived for Cy Clops. By this time, even Rochelle, Robecca, and Venus had all but given up on finding out who or what was behind the great monster whisper. Life as they knew it was back to normal. Until they opened the DeadEx, that is….
They will come back to Monster High, as they have here. You must be vigilant in your watch.
—Signore Vitriola
And just like that, everything changed again. They might have won the battle, but the war was clearly not over. Now, if only they knew who they were fighting…
Thank you for buying this e-book, published by Hachette Digital.
To receive special offers, bonus content, and news about our latest e-books and apps, sign up for our newsletter.
Sign Up
Or visit us at hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters
ALSO BY
GITTY DANESHVARI
School of Fear
School of Fear: Class Is NOT Dismissed!
School of Fear: The Final Exam
Contents
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Also by Gitty Daneshvari
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 Mattel, Inc.
Spot art by Chuck Gonzales
MONSTER HIGH and associated trademarks are owned by and used under license from Mattel, Inc.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
www.hachettebookgroup.com
www.twitter.com/littlebrown
First e-book edition: September 2012
Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.
ISBN 978-0-316-22255-6