Ghoulfriends Just Want to Have Fun

by Gitty Daneshvari

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  For Brooklyn’s newest monsters, Ronan and Emmett

  Special thanks to Emily Kelly and Darren Sander

  unfettered by even the faintest wisp of cloud, a large wrought-iron gate shimmered brightly in the sunshine. The landscape was empty and eerily still, save for a few silky spider threads fluttering around the spindly black bars. Looming in the distance, just behind the fence, was the Gothic window–filled facade of Monster High. And though everything appeared just as bright and cheerful as it always did, something ominous lingered in the air—something that hinted at unfinished business.

  Three shadows crept slowly toward the gate, instantly altering the barren landscape. Distorted by the sun, their arms, legs, and torsos morphed in and out of carnival-mirror caricatures. Breaking away from the pack, a long and sinewy arm reached for the fence, wrapping five fingers tightly around the bars.

  “Ouch!” Venus McFlytrap screeched as she quickly released her hand from the gate. “Can someone please explain why we’re down here so early? My vines haven’t even woken up yet,” she grumbled, rife with attitude, before stifling a yawn.

  The emerald-skinned daughter of the plant monster then draped her long pink-and-green-striped hair over her pet potted plant, Chewlian. Much like a curtain, it shielded him from the blazing sun.

  “Poor Chewy. I think his leaves are wilting,” Venus said as she tenderly watched him snap at a passing gnat. “Well, at least the heat hasn’t affected his appetite.”

  “C’est très important that I never mislead anyone. Therefore, I would like to preface this statement by reminding you that I am neither a trained botanist nor a horticulturist,” Rochelle Goyle explained formally in her charming Scarisian accent.

  “Seriously, Rochelle?” Venus replied with a roll of her eyes. “The odds of me mistaking you for a botanist or a horticulturist are zero. Actually less than zero.”

  “Very well then. Have you considered applying sunscream to Chewy’s leaves? I think SPF thirty could do wonders for him. If I were not carved from granite, I would wear it dutifully.”

  Though crafted from stone, Rochelle was a surprisingly dainty gargoyle with small wings that crowned just above her shoulders. And ever the style maven, she always found new and inventive ways to repurpose accessories. On this particular day, she had arranged her long pink hair with tealstreaked bangs in a bun using a yellow Scaremès scarf to hold it in place.

  “Deary me, if ever I felt like a bat on a hot tin roof, it’s today. Why, it’s absolutely steaming out here!” blue-and-black-haired Robecca Steam exclaimed in her usual overexcited manner.

  “Technically speaking, it’s not actually steaming out today,” Rochelle stated authoritatively before raising her eyebrows. “I thought you of all ghouls would know that.”

  Fashioned out of a steam engine by her madscientist father, Hexicah Steam, copper-plated Robecca came with both bolts and gears. And though she was built ages ago, she had been dismantled for quite some time and had only recently been put back together. Not that anyone could tell: Robecca was absolutely perfect—or, rather, almost perfect. Burdened with a highly unreliable internal clock, she was incapable of arriving anywhere on time. And so it fell to her friends to keep her on schedule or, at the very least, vaguely aware of the hour.

  “Rochelle, I hate to be a thorn in your side, but why did you drag us down here so early? It’s almost like we put you know who in charge of watching the time,” Venus said while motioning conspicuously in Robecca’s direction.

  “Isn’t this just the bee’s knees? I’m a you know who! I’ve always wanted to be a you know who, because everyone knows that anyone who’s anyone is a you know who!” Robecca sounded off exuberantly.

  The copper-plated ghoul then switched on her rocket boots and performed a quick backflip in the air.

  “Robecca, I hardly think that warrants a celebration,” Venus said drily as she turned her gaze back to Rochelle. “Well?”

  “I must agree: Aerial maneuvers can be très dangereux. Consequently, I suggest refraining from them unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Rochelle! Forget about Robecca’s aerial maneuvers! What’s this morning’s plan? Why did you insist on getting us down here so early?” Venus snapped as something dashed between her pink boots. “Ugh, Roux! Give it a rest; your enthusiasm is starting to irritate me.”

  “I think it’s high time Roux tried out for Fearleading. I mean, just look at her—she’s a natural,” Robecca teased Rochelle playfully.

  Roux, Rochelle’s pet griffin, was perpetually happy, at times almost annoyingly so. It was as though the small winged creature could not experience any other emotion. In many ways she was the polar opposite of Robecca’s mechanical pet penguin. Whereas Roux was always happy, Penny was always grumpy. But then again, Robecca did have the most tiresome habit of accidentally leaving her places. Over the past few months Penny had been left everywhere—from a public restroom at the Maul to the frozen-foods aisle at the grocery store, neither of which could be considered a mechanical penguin’s natural habitat.

  “Rochelle, are you going to tell me the plan or what?” Venus griped as she pushed back her vines to theatrically check her watch.

  “Paragraph 6.8 of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics states, en detail, that a gargoyle must abide by his or her word. And I gave Skelita Calaveras and Jinafire Long my word that I would be their tour guide on their first day at Monster High.”

  “I really am as keen as a jelly bean to meet your new friends. If only Venus and I could have gone on the trip to Scaris, then they’d be our friends too,” Robecca buzzed as she turned to look at Penny, whose left wing was emitting a slight squeak as it flapped. “I think it’s time for someone to get an oil change at Grind ’n’ Gears.”

  While the sun continued to shine brightly, the three ghouls lapsed into silence, their minds drifting to the many things that lay ahead. First to the excitement of seeing old friends, then to the homework they were soon to be burdened with, and finally to the still-unexplained monster whisper.

  Never one to keep something to herself, Robecca abruptly squawked, breaking the silence. “Eek! I can’t stop thinking about Signore Vitriola’s warning! Do you think he was right? Will those responsible for the whisper soon return? Oh, just the thought of it makes me want to blow a gasket!”

  “Robecca, s’il ghoul plaît, you mustn’t blow a gasket so early in the day. Though, I understand the feeling. It certainly was a precarious time with the students and faculty unable to think for themselves,” Rochelle remembered somberly.

  “Ghouls, you’re missing the point. It’s not about whether those responsible will return; it’s whether they ever left,” Venus stated pointedly.

  “Are you referring to Madame Flapper?” Rochelle questioned Venus while cradling Roux in her arms and rocking him, much to the petite creature’s delight.

  “I just don’t know if I believe Miss Flapper’s story. I mean, you have to admit it’s pretty convenient. She claims she was under a spell too, erasing any and all responsibility for brainwashing the school,” Venus answered, absolutely bristling with suspicion.

  “But what about the way Miss Flapper rea
cted when she heard what she had done? She was devastated,” Robecca recalled.

  “Um, hello! She was acting.” Venus scoffed, shaking her head at her ghoulfriend’s naïveté.

  “Good golly. If that’s true, she’s one heck of an actress. Maybe even better than Feral Streak!” Robecca remarked with astonishment.

  “At this point it’s impossible for any of us to say for sure whether Miss Flapper was in fact behind the whisper or simply another one of its casualties. And for that reason, we must keep our eyes open at all times. Except of course if something sharp is careening toward our heads or if we’re sleeping,” Rochelle clarified earnestly as Venus and Robecca stifled laughter.

  “Hey, ghouls, talk about the early birds catching the worm,” casually clad sea creature Lagoona Blue called out in her Mosstrailian accent as her sometimes boyfriend, Gil Webber, scampered up behind her.

  “Lagoona! Gil!” Venus, Robecca, and Rochelle greeted the couple warmly, pleased that the hour had finally come for the school day to begin.

  “Morning, mates!” Lagoona said warmly. “Say, Venus, did you get my e-mail about the oil spill?”

  “Ugh, those careless cretins make me so angry! I wish I could pollinate every single one of them!” Venus huffed furiously, thinking of how helpful her pollens of persuasion could be in convincing greedy oilmen to take better care of the ocean.

  “Boo-la-la, Venus,” Rochelle remarked. “You mustn’t get so upset. You’re turning red, which is not a good thing for someone who is supposed to be green.”

  “She’s right, mate. The only way to help the environment is to keep calm and swim on,” Lagoona concurred before she and Gil joined a slow-moving pack of zombies en route to the entrance to Monster High.

  “Nice updo, Rochelle!” a beautifully coiffed werewolf exclaimed while sashaying past the trio.

  “Merci boo-coup, Clawdeen,” Rochelle gushed, proudly patting her bun still held neatly in place with the bright yellow scarf.

  “Gee whiz, did you get a gander at Clawdeen? The hair, the clothes, the pearly-white fangs—she’s the absolute, the cat’s meow,” Robecca mused as she watched the ghoul strut confidently away in purple wedge sneakers.

  “Did someone say fangs?” Draculaura, the daughter of Dracula, asked with a wink.

  The fair-skinned ghoul with pink-and-black-striped hair then lifted the straw in her iron shake to her perfectly glossed mouth. As a vegetarian vampire, she had no choice but to supplement her diet with iron shakes. Fortunately she had long ago learned how to sip without smudging her lipstick.

  “Hey, Draculaura!” Robecca thundered happily as Venus and Rochelle waved hello.

  “Ghouls,” Draculaura said, squinting in the bright light. “I’d love to stop and chat, but this sun is definitely not vampire-friendly.”

  “Tell me about it. My bolts are burning up,” Frankie Stein, the gorgeously mint-green daughter of Frankenstein, interjected as she stepped out from behind a passing werewolf.

  “Wow, Frankie, nice stitches,” Draculaura noted with an approving nod.

  “Thanks. I had to stay up all night sewing, but it was worth it to look voltage for the first day back,” Frankie replied as she and Draculaura continued walking together toward the main entrance to Monster High.

  “Oh great,” Venus whined sarcastically. “Get ready to curtsy. Royalty’s approaching.”

  Dressed in opulent gold bandages and a shimmering jeweled headdress, Cleo de Nile was rather hard to miss, especially with her handsome boyfriend, Deuce Gorgon, following close behind. Their romance was proof positive that opposites really do attract. For where Cleo was extraordinarily demanding, to put it nicely, Deuce was laid-back and easygoing.

  “Hey, Rochelle,” Deuce greeted the blushing gargoyle amiably, inciting a stampede of butterflies through her stomach. “Robecca, Venus, how are you ghouls?”

  “Deuce? The sun is really hot, sort of like me,” Cleo interrupted as she reached out, grabbed his arm, and pulled him along. “We need to get inside before my eyelashes melt off.”

  Mere seconds after they escaped earshot, Venus turned to Rochelle with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. “Crush much?”

  “As you are well aware, I am no longer with Garrott DuRoque; however, that does not change the fact that Deuce is still very much with Cleo, and per the Gargoyle Code of Ethics—”

  “Save your citation. We get the drift,” Venus interjected as her body tensed and her vines fluttered at the sight of a sleek orange werecat approaching.

  Sauntering toward the gate was Monster High’s most notoriously difficult pupil: the stripe-faced and perky-eared Toralei Stripe.

  “Was that Cleo?” she purred, seamlessly blending judgment and disdain as she flicked her fur forelock away from the dark orange spot surrounding her left eye. “I thought I smelled something.”

  “Cleo is a bit of a perfumista. Rumor has it she has a different scent for each day of the week,” Robecca chimed in. “Sadly, I can’t wear perfume. My steam washes it right off.”

  “Actually, I was referring to the smell of something gone bad, like, past its expiration date,” Toralei corrected Robecca. “Come on, ghouls, don’t you know anything? Mummies are rotten.”

  “Talk about words that could make someone wilt,” Venus mumbled under her breath, clearly shocked by the werecat’s comments.

  “Toralei, it is my duty as a gargoyle to correct inaccurate information. Therefore, I must tell you: Mummies are not rotten but rather well preserved. To put it simply, Cleo suffers from neither decay nor decomposition,” Rochelle stated in a highly matter-of-fact manner.

  Toralei squinted and slowly looked the gargoyle up and down, taking in everything from her silver peep-toe shoes to her shimmering rosy locks.

  “Oh, I get it now,” Toralei hissed. “You dressed up like Ms. Kindergrubber on purpose. I’ve got to say, the scarf’s a nice touch.”

  As Rochelle recoiled in both horror and humiliation, Toralei twitched her perky little ears. It was one of the werecat’s most noted idiosyncrasies; she did it to congratulate herself anytime she bested another monster.

  “Jeepers! That was weirder than a turtle winning a marathon,” Robecca whispered as Toralei glided away with a self-satisfied smile.

  “What are you talking about? She always acts like that,” Venus shot back with a perplexed expression.

  “No, not Toralei! I’m talking about how normal everyone is acting. It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten about the brainwashing episode!”

  “You know what, Robecca? You’re absolutely right,” Venus agreed as she glanced over at the throng of students making their way toward Monster High’s main entrance. “Look at them—zombies, werewolves, vampires—they’re all totally relaxed, without so much as a lingering suspicion.”

  “Yes, but to be fair, they don’t remember the details like we do. They were in a haze. And without clear, lucid memories, it’s much easier for them to move on,” Rochelle stated firmly.

  “Yeah, but move on to what?” Venus asked solemnly. “What’s coming next could be even worse.”

  the unmistakable scent of stewed cabbage and body odor instantly announced the arrival of the trolls. While highly regarded for their patrolling abilities, the stout creatures with bulbous features were notoriously unhygienic. So unpleasant and gag-inducing was their stench—especially that of their long, greasy locks—that barbershops in town had taken to posting NO TROLLS signs in the windows. And though it reminded the elderly of the days when monsters were ranked by species, no one could blame the barbers. After all, trolls rarely washed their hair more than once a calendar year—twice if they happened to have a date with a non-troll.

  “Why no in school?” a chubby troll with a wide variety of moles and dangerously dirty fingernails grunted at Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus in broken English.

  “Wow, there really is nothing quite like the scent of troll,” Venus mumbled quietly.

  “Excuse me, but the bell has not rung. Thus we
are not technically required to be inside the school yet,” Rochelle politely responded.

  Standing directly behind the troll was yet another troll, equally unclean. However, this one was also releasing small showers of saliva with each rattling breath that he drew. Having noted this unfortunate quirk, Venus, Rochelle, and Robecca each took one large step back, silently promising to look into both nose plugs and goggles as soon as possible.

  “Hello, ghouls!” called out raven-haired Headless Headmistress Bloodgood as she sauntered up to the students. “Welcome back! How lovely it is not only to see you but to remember you!”

  “Does this mean you’re no longer suffering from Muddled-Mind Syndrome?” Robecca asked excitedly.

  “I’ll field that question, non-adult entity,” Miss Sue Nami, Monster High’s Deputy of Disaster, barked as she barreled toward the group. “While Headmistress Bloodgood has regained a great deal of her memory, she is still suffering from high levels of distractibility. But then again, no one ever said getting struck by lightning was easy.”

  “They did, however, say lightning doesn’t strike twice,” Headmistress Bloodgood added, before parting her plump pink lips and breaking into a toothy smile.

  “With all due respect, Headmistress, that is factually incorrect,” Rochelle clarified. “Lightning can strike, and has struck, the same person twice. And while the odds are low, statistically speaking, it is still possible.”

  As Robecca and Venus exchanged amused looks over their friend’s need to constantly correct people, something splashed across their faces. Miss Sue Nami, a permanently waterlogged monster, had broken into her now-infamous dog shake. Much like a long-haired retriever after a swim, she shook every inch of her robust figure in an effort to stop herself from flooding. So important was the release of water that she did it at least three times an hour, much to the chagrin of those around her.

  “Ghouls, what are you still doing out here? It’s the first day of a new semester. You really shouldn’t be late,” Headmistress Bloodgood advised, dabbing specks of water from her heavily made-up face.