Monster High: Who's That Ghoulfriend? (Monster High: Ghoulfriends Forever)

by Daneshvari, Gitty

  “Yeah, but…” Venus started to refute Scariff Fred’s explanation when she noticed Miss Sue Nami discreetly motioning for her to stop.

  As the school’s Deputy of Disaster, Miss Sue Nami was Headmistress Bloodgood’s second in command. But, more important to Venus, she had long maintained her own doubts about Miss Flapper.

  “But what?” Scariff Fred pressed Venus to finish her thought.

  “But nothing. You’re absolutely right: The normies are obviously behind this,” Venus replied unconvincingly.

  “Thank you, ghoul,” Scariff Fred said with visible delight, and then turned to the superintendent. “Would you care to add anything, Petra?”

  After offering the scariff an affirmative nod, Petra turned toward the crowd. “As the Skultastic Superintendent of Salem, I have named Miss Sue Nami acting headmistress of Monster High so that the students may maintain as normal of a routine as possible. This, of course, means that both Picture Day and Crack and Shield Day will occur as scheduled in a few weeks’ time. And please remember, helmets are mandatory for all Crack and Shield participants, including hardheaded gargoyles.”

  “Wow, even the superintendent knows that gargoyles are hardheaded,” Venus muttered to Rochelle.

  “Superintendent Petra was referring to our stone composition, not our character.”

  “If you say so…”

  As the crowd began to disperse, Rochelle felt a drop of water land on her shoulder. But before she could even turn to look, another one fell, and then another and another. Standing directly behind the petite gray gargoyle was the perpetually waterlogged Miss Sue Nami. Bulky, brash, and decidedly unfeminine, she routinely stood with her legs wide apart and her hands perched on her hips.

  “Non-adult entities, I need to see you,” Miss Sue Nami barked as she looked suspiciously around the corridor.

  “But you’re looking right at us? Although it is possible that water has clouded your vision,” Rochelle replied sincerely. “But you needn’t worry; I’m sure Cy knows a very good optometrist.”

  “I do,” Cy piped up softly.

  “Non-adult entity, I do not need an optometrist, I need to speak with you.”

  “But, Madame Sue Nami, you are speaking with us,” the highly literal gargoyle replied.

  “Rochelle, I’ve got this,” Venus said, stepping in front of Miss Sue Nami seconds before she broke into her now infamous shake.

  Much like a dog after a bath, she shook from her head to her toes, sending water flying every which way.

  “Nice, real nice,” Venus moaned sarcastically as she wiped her face. “Now, what can we do for you, Miss Sue Nami?”

  The perennially damp dame motioned for the foursome to follow her to the corner a few feet away. Once huddled together, Miss Sue Nami shocked everyone by speaking in a whisper. It was a most surprising turn of events for a woman who had only ever spoken at one level: uncomfortably loud.

  “I spent three years living among the normies, and in that time I learned a lot about them. For example: They take Halloween very seriously; they hold baseball in high regard even though it’s slower than a zombie running a marathon; hot dogs are not in fact made from dogs; but most important, they solve their problems with lawsuits, not kidnappings. So while everyone else buys into this normie nonsense, I want you lot to keep your eyes and ears open. And just to be clear, I said keep your eyes and ears open, not your mouths. In other words, don’t go yapping about this to anyone,” Miss Sue Nami muttered, and then stomped off, leaving a trail of puddles behind her.

  “She really ought to hire a troll to walk after her with a mop. Puddles can be very dangerous. As a matter of fact, they are responsible for seventy-three percent of all slips,” Rochelle recalled as she surveyed the many wet spots on the floor.

  However, before Cy, Robecca, or Venus could even comment, a deep and regal voice cut through the corridor. The timbre, tone, and general manner of speaking instantly set the man apart, as did his exquisite gold-and-turquoise gauze suit. But then again, he was royalty.

  “Scariff? Superintendent? May I present myself? His Royal Highness Ramses de Nile,” the man imperiously introduced himself. “You may bow.”

  “Now we know where Cleo gets her unique personality from,” Venus said, stifling a laugh.

  “Someone sure thinks he’s the cat’s pajamas,” Robecca remarked as she watched Mr. De Nile flick an imaginary piece of lint from his impeccably tailored gauze coat.

  “Mr. De Nile,” the scariff responded stiffly, while grudgingly nodding his head. “What may we do for you?”

  “My daughter Cleo is a princess, second in line to the scaraoh throne. And normies, as I am sure you know, have a long and well-documented obsession with the monarchy,” Ramses de Nile explained. “Therefore I believe it highly probable that my daughter will find herself the target of the next kidnapping. And as I do not wish anything to befall her, I have come here today to ask you to assign her a bodyguard.”

  “I’m afraid we’re not in a position to dole out personal security. All of our men are busy patrolling Salem’s borders,” Scariff Fred responded sternly.

  “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing,” a werecat man interrupted. “I am Tab Bee, the newly appointed guardian of Toralei Stripe, one of Monster High’s most exceptional ghouls—”

  “Only in her own mind,” Venus muttered under her breath.

  “So I must agree with His Royal Highness Mr. De Nile. High-profile students need, dare I say, demand, extra security.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bee,” Mr. De Nile responded, clearly pleased that Tab had used the moniker His Royal Highness when speaking about him.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but it’s not going to happen. Now if you’ll excuse us,” Scariff Fred said as he and Superintendent Petra started off down the purple-floored corridor.

  “This isn’t right! Children such as ours deserve protection,” Cleo’s father roared, stomping one of his ornate gold boots against the floor.

  “As both of your ghouls are savvy, smart, and sophisticated,” a silky voice hissed from behind the two men, “they would be quite the force to be reckoned with if they traveled in unison. There’s strength in numbers, you know.”

  “What’s Miss Flapper up to now?” Venus asked the others, suspiciously eyeing the petite European dragon.

  Dressed in a floor-length lavender gown with silver buttons, Miss Flapper looked as spooktacular as ever. Her long bloodred hair, crisp green eyes, and delicate white wings instantly mesmerized both Ramses de Nile and Tab Bee.

  “There’s a calculated reason behind everything she does,” Rochelle answered. “So now we just need to figure out what it is.…”

  “Let’s start by checking out what’s on those papers,” Venus said.

  “What papers?” Cy asked.

  “We stumbled across a stash of hidden papers in the attic, but we didn’t have time to read them, so I took pictures with my iCoffin,” Venus said as Robecca jumped in front of the green-faced ghoul.

  “And you waited until now to tell us? I thought we were the Three Monsketeers!” Robecca boiled over as she flung her arms in the air with exasperation.

  “What about me?” Cy asked quietly.

  “Sorry, Cy! I meant the Four Monsketeers!” Robecca blustered as she eyed Rochelle and Venus harshly.

  “No need to blow a gasket, Becs. We were going to tell you. The scariff and superintendent just momentarily sidelined us.”

  Around nine thirty that morning, tucked away in the Libury between two bookshelves, Cy, Rochelle, and Robecca huddled around Venus and her iCoffin. With bated breath, the students watched as the plant ghoul pulled up her photo album. Lingering in the air, inciting tinges of hope, was the notion that these pictures could lead to the safe return of Headmistress Bloodgood.

  At last the first photo popped up on the screen. However, within nanoseconds, anticipation turned to disappointment. The picture was so blurry that it looked more like a piece of abstract art than a writ
ten document.

  “Talk about a flea’s sneeze! What if they’re all like this?” Robecca worried aloud.

  “Then we’ll be exactly where we are right now—square one,” Venus said as she pulled up the next photo, which was also blurred beyond recognition.

  “When taking a photo with a flash it is imperative that the photographer keep his or her hand perfectly still.”

  “Rochelle, are all gargoyles such know-it-alls?” Venus asked lightheartedly, suppressing a grin.

  “Boo-la-la, Venus, I do not mean to be a know-it-all! It’s just that as your ghoulfriend, I wish to be as helpful as possible,” Rochelle explained sincerely.

  “I know and I appreciate it,” the plant ghoul replied. “And for the record, I hold know-it-alls in very high regard.”

  Venus then flipped to the next photo, but before she was even able to register what she saw, Robecca crashed to the floor. The sound of copper knocking against the tiles resulted in a thunderous cacophony of sounds. Momentarily overwhelmed, Rochelle and Venus froze. Luckily, Cy was quick to react, instantly bending down to check on his copper-plated friend.

  “Are you okay?” the one-eyed boy asked with genuine concern.

  “Ugh, not zhem again,” a familiar voice droned.

  Sleeping on the bottom two shelves of a nearby bookcase were the gypsy vampire twins, Rose and Blanche Van Sangre.

  “Rose, vhy must these ghoulz alvays vake us from our naps?” Blanche said before releasing a long sigh.

  “You ghouls are seriously selfish! Aren’t you even going to ask if our friend is okay?” Venus shot back.

  “Come on, Blanche, let’z go to zheir room and finish our nap,” Rose said as she and her sister crawled out from the shelves.

  “For the last time, the school has given you your own room! So s’il ghoul plaît, use it!” Rochelle cried as the two pale-faced ghouls, dressed in identical velvet capes, sauntered off.

  “Are you okay? Did your boiler run out of water?” Venus asked as she and Rochelle crowded around Robecca.

  “It’s the photo… I saw his name…” Robecca muttered as two pumpkin heads skipped through the Libury singing, their jack-o’-lanterns bobbing wildly atop their puny little bodies.

  “It’s been eight hours, thirteen minutes, and seven seconds since Headmistress Bloodgood disappeared! We are not happy, for it’s worse than we could have feared! Why, normies, why? Please stop all this before we cry!”

  “I don’t understand. Whose name did you see?” Rochelle asked Robecca as Venus pressed her hand against the copper ghoul’s forehead.

  “I think she’s running a fever,” Venus said as she compared Robecca’s temperature to her own.

  “Robecca’s father crafted her out of a steam engine; her temperature levels are completely different from ours,” Rochelle corrected Venus before turning back to Robecca. “You must tell us what happened. Whose name caused you to faint so suddenly?”

  “My father’s name is Hexiciah Steam, and it’s on that paper.”

  The sole legible photo taken in the attic was an untitled document with a list of names on it: Cleo’s father, Mr. De Nile; Ghoulia’s mother, Mrs. Yelps; Clawdeen’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Wolf; Monster High’s headmistress, Ms. Bloodgood; Deuce Gorgon’s mom, Mrs. Gorgon; Robecca’s father, Mr. Steam; and Draculaura’s father, Dracula. However, only two names were marked up: Mr. Steam and Ms. Bloodgood.

  “The two names that are circled also happen to be the two people who are missing,” Rochelle thought aloud.

  “Yes, but my father has been missing for over a hundred years.…” Robecca trailed off as she remembered the last time she saw him.

  In the weeks leading up to his disappearance, Hexiciah had been keeping odd hours, often leaving the house in the middle of the night without explanation. Robecca assumed it had something to do with his research, extending normie life spans through the use of mechanical parts. But, alas, before she had the chance to ask him, he vanished into thin air. And though Robecca hadn’t a single bit of proof, she firmly believed that her normie father was somehow still alive.

  After getting Robecca to her feet, everyone decided it best that she head straight back to the Chamber of Gore and Lore for some much-needed rest. However, just before they started up the creaky pink staircase to the dormitory, a familiar Mosstrailian accent captured their attention.

  “Hey, mates! Where are you swimming off to? We’ve got a Frightingales meeting, or haven’t you heard?” Lagoona Blue, dressed in pink board shorts and a white tank top, informed Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus.

  “A meeting?” Rochelle repeated. “But I don’t have anything on my calendar.”

  “It’s an emergency meeting. In light of everything that has happened, Draculaura and Frankie think it’s important we get together,” Lagoona explained as she flipped her long, curly blond hair over her shoulder.

  “In that case”—Venus turned toward Robecca and Rochelle—“we better head over to the Arts and Bats room.”

  The Arts and Bats room, located off the main corridor, was looking even messier than usual. Ribbons, half-used tubes of paints, scissors, colored paper, glitter, and countless other items were strewn about the room. Hanging just above the doorway was a cluster of bats, which dropped bits of food atop Draculaura’s and Frankie Stein’s heads as they greeted members. And as usual the copresidents of the school’s most exclusive all-ghouls club were clothed impeccably—Frankie in plaid capri pants and a matching sweater-vest, and Draculaura in a pink-and-black babydoll dress.

  “Welcome, ghouls,” Frankie said somberly as Draculaura nodded hello.

  “Deary me! Fainting is an awfully tiring affair,” Robecca remarked after taking a seat next to Rochelle and Venus. “Not that I should complain, since you two haven’t slept at all, which means it’s only a matter of time before Venus starts snapping worse than Chewy.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Venus asked indignantly.

  “Do not get upset with Robecca. After all, it has been scientifically proven that plants become unpleasant and grumpy without adequate sleep or sunshine,” Rochelle explained in her normal matter-of-fact manner.

  “You know what? You might be right. I think this lack of sleep is getting to me. I think it’s even causing me to hallucinate.…” Venus trailed off while staring dumbfounded at the door.

  And Venus was hardly alone. The whole room was staring at the door, utterly shocked by what stood before them.

  “Quelle surprise,” Rochelle said slowly as Robecca turned to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Watch your claws; this is a hundred percent silk gauze, in case you didn’t know,” mocha-colored mummy Cleo de Nile snapped at Toralei Stripe as the two walked into the room with their arms linked together.

  “No problem. But would you mind putting on some more perfume? Decomposition is seriously stinky,” the orange-maned werecat shot back venomously while waving her free hand in front of her nose.

  “For the last time, you lowly alley cat, I am not decomposing. Just posing. And do you know why? Because all the world’s my stage,” Cleo said as she flipped back her long black and brown locks of hair.

  “Big deal, mummy. All the world’s my catwalk,” Toralei countered.

  “Toralei? Cleo?” Draculaura interrupted. “Why are you ghouls holding hands?”

  “Eww! We’re not holding hands. We’re merely allowing our arms to touch for security reasons,” Toralei explained defensively.

  “And for the record, I am so not enjoying it,” Cleo announced loudly to the room.

  “Security reasons?” Frankie questioned Toralei.

  “Yeah, apparently her father and my guardian think we’re less likely to be kidnapped if we’re together,” Toralei expounded, and then deftly applied lip gloss with her free hand.

  “But why would the normies want to kidnap you two? Or any student, for that matter?” Frankie asked sensibly.

  “Um, hello? I’m royalty,” Cleo said as though
it were the most obvious answer.

  “And I’m the pride of the litter,” Toralei purred proudly.

  “Okaaaay, if you two say so,” Frankie responded with an awkward smile. “Why don’t you ghouls take a seat so that we can start?”

  After sashaying around the room no less than three times, the two divas finally sat down. However, once seated, the two engaged in a tug-of-war with their arms. When it came to getting along, these ghouls simply hadn’t a clue what they were doing.

  “Ghouls, I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Draculaura addressed the room. “In light of last night’s news regarding Headmistress Bloodgood, we’re suspending our community service program, Project Scare and Care, until further notice.”

  “And while we agree with Superintendent Petra that it’s important to continue with normal everyday life, we also think it’s important to honor Headmistress Bloodgood in her absence,” Frankie said with both her blue eye and her green eye glistening with tears.

  “Clawdeen, would you please come up here?” Draculaura asked the silky-haired werewolf, who then promptly strutted to the front of the classroom.

  After lowering her head and taking a deep breath, Clawdeen looked up at the room full of ghouls.

  “When I first heard about Headmistress Blood-good, I literally howled until my fangs hurt. And not just because she’s our headmistress, but because she’s our friend. She believes in us; she supports our talents. I mean, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t even have applied for the Moanatella Ghostier Fashion Fellowship. Which, by the way, led to my first fashion show in Scaris! Just in case any of you missed Spectra’s blog post about it,” Clawdeen said before pursing her well-lacquered lips. “Anyway, I have decided to use some of my funds from the fellowship to create these shirts.…”