CLEOPATRA DE NILE
X New pet snake
X Has Deuce—the hottest guy in school—all wrapped up
X Herve Leger bandage dress, strappy gold platforms
Cleo was the queen bee of the RADs, the normies, and everyone in between at Merston High. But now it’s “Frankie this” and “Melody that”… these new girls sure know how to get her lashes in a tangle. When Cleo lands a golden Teen Vogue photo op for her friends, everything seems to be back on track.… until they bail to be in some film… Frankie and Melody’s film! Can’t a royal get some loyal?
FRANKIE STEIN
Frankie lost her head over Brett once and vows never to do it again. Not that she has a choice: Bekka is clinging to her guy like plastic wrap. But when Brett comes up with a plan that could help the RADs live free, sparks fly, and Bekka will stop at nothing to put out the flames… even if it means destroying the entire monster community.
MELODY CARVER
The clock is tick-tick-ticking. Melody has a serious deadline to save her boyfriend, Jackson, from being exposed by the vengeance-seeking Bekka. But Cleo is making it royally difficult for the normie while threatening her acceptance into the RADs’ exclusive group … a group that Melody suspects she has more in common with than she ever thought.
Fitting in is out.
Also by
LISI HARRISON
The Clique
The Clique
Best Friends for Never
Revenge of the Wannabes
Invasion of the Boy Snatchers
The Pretty Committee Strikes Back
Dial L for Loser
It’s Not Easy Being Mean
Sealed with a Diss
Copyright
Published by Hachette Digital
ISBN: 978-0-748-12419-0
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 Mattel, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
www.hachette.co.uk
For Mer Mer and our NTF
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Also by Lisi Harrison
Copyright
Chapter 1: Pharaoh Knows Best
Chapter 2: Wax On, Wax Off
Chapter 3: All Charged Up and Nowhere to Go
Chapter 4: Extreme Home Takeover
Chapter 5: Sealed With a Hiss
Chapter 6: The Lone NUDI
Chapter 7: A Window of Opportunity
Chapter 8: Frenemy Territory
Chapter 9: Can Versus Man
Chapter 10: Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Boo-tiful
Chapter 11: All’s Fair in Love and Gore
Chapter 12: Eat, Drink, and Be Wary
Lost Chapter (Whose Unlucky Number Shall Go Unmentioned)
Chapter 14: Vanishing Act
Chapter 15: To Normie Is to Love Me
Chapter 16: Tears of a Crown
Chapter 17: The Ghoul Next Door
Chapter 18: Queen Takes Green
Chapter 19: Third-Degree Burns
Chapter 20: Stall Wars
Chapter 21: It’s a Wrap
Chapter 22: Mummy’s Home
Chapter 23: RAD Rage
Chapter 24: Siren Says
Chapter 25: Saved by the Mel
Chapter 26: Mom Genes
CHAPTER ONE
PHARAOH KNOWS BEST
The amber-infused air snapped with anxiety. It crackled with anticipation. It popped with impatience. Still, Cleo refused to rest until the de Nile Palace was fit for a king, even if the staff thought she was a royal pain in the—
“Better?” asked Hasina, lifting the left corner of the papyrus banner she and her husband, Beb, had been summoned to hang.
Cleo cocked her head and took three steps back to get a fresh perspective. Outside, the rain pounded, muting the hollow taps of her strappy platforms against the limestone floor. It was perfect weather for renting movies, snuggling with Boyfriend, and—
STOP! Cleo shook the cozy image from her mind. Deuce was no longer welcome in her thoughts or her screening room. Not since he took Melody Carver to the school dance last night. Besides, she had to stay focused. There would be plenty of time to plot revenge later.
Joining the tips of her thumbs, Cleo stretched out her arms like a film director lining up a shot. “Ummm…” Her latte-colored hands formed a frame through which she could scrutinize the banner’s latest position. It was crucial that she see exactly what her audience would see. Because her audience expected perfection, and he was due home in—Cleo glanced at the carved sundial in the center of the great hall. Ugh! It was completely useless at night.
“Time check!” she called.
Beb pulled an iPhone from his white linen tunic. “Seven minutes.”
High Dam!
It would have been much faster to type her message in seventy-two-point font and print it from her laser printer. But her father had no tolerance for technology. When it came to notes, lists, or birthday cards, it was hieroglyphs or the highway.
Ramses de Nile—or Ram, as Westerners called him—insisted that all under his roof honor their Egyptian heritage by writing with the ancient characters—characters that averaged twenty minutes apiece to perfect. Which is why the sign said WELCOME HOME instead of WELCOME HOME, DAD. For the love of Geb! Who had that kind of time?
Fortunately, the mundane task hadn’t hindered her usual Saturday afternoon plans with Clawdeen, Lala, and Blue, since the three S’s—sunning, spa-ing, and shopping—were no longer options. Tanning in the solarium was out because of the storm. And the other two S’s had been canceled until it became safe for them to go out in public again.
Thanks, Frankie Stein!
Since the previous night’s dance at Merston High (the one that Deuce took Melody Carver to!), Salem police had been searching for a “green monster” (Frankie!) whose head fell off during a massive make-out sesh with Brett Redding. The RAD (Regular Attribute Dodgers) community agreed it was best for all of their kids to stay home, just in case.
Thankfully, her father, a renowned antiques dealer, had been on an archaeological dig and had missed the drama. He was over-protective in the best of times. What if he knew that Cleo had gone along with Frankie’s plan? That she had attended the school’s monster-themed costume ball dressed as a mummy—or, rather, that she had gone dressed as herself? That Blue had let her sea monster scales shine? That Lala had flashed her fangs? That Clawdeen had exposed her werewolf fur? That their goal had been to show the normies that the RADs’ “eccentricities” weren’t something to fear but instead something to celebrate? Cleo shuddered at the thought. If Ram knew half of that, he’d lock her away in some underground tomb and preserve her until the year 2200.
“’S good?” Beb managed to ask through clenched teeth that looked especially ivory against his olive-colored skin.
Was it Cleo’s imagination or did the top left corner still seem slanted? Her chest buckled like an overwrapped corpse. She wanted to be done. She needed to be done. There was still wine to pour; there were appetizers to arrange and the Sharkiat playlist to cue. If she didn’t free up the servants, those tasks would never be completed on time. Sure, Cleo could help, but she’d rather cut off an arm than lend a hand. After all, her father always said, “There are bosses and there are workers. Yet you, my princess, are too precio
us for either role.” And Cleo wholeheartedly agreed. But no one said she couldn’t supervise.
“Higher on the left.”
“But…” Beb began. Then he quickly thought better of it. Instead, he activated the carpenter’s level app on his iPhone and flipped it horizontal. He watched patiently as the digital bubble bobbed toward a verdict, his cocoa-colored lips mumbling at the screen that held his fate.
“Looks perfect to me,” Hasina insisted, balancing on the gilded arm of an ancient Egyptian throne. “And Beb’s measurements are usually quite accurate.” She widened her dark, kohl-lined eyes for emphasis.
The woman had a point.
Sixteen years ago, Ram commissioned Beb to build a house that would have impressive “curb appeal” by Western standards and “royal palace appeal” by Egyptian standards. Months later, 32 Radcliffe Way did just that.
White and pigeon-gray, the multilevel exterior had the new-money patina of a suburban McMansion. The front door opened into a cramped wood-paneled foyer. Its walls were beige, dimly lit, and boring. How else could the family keep pizza delivery boys and nosy cookie-selling Girl Scouts from becoming suspicious? But on the other side of that fake foyer was a second door—the real door, which gave access to their true home. Where the style dial had been set to palatial.
The main hall was three stories high and capped with a lofty glass pyramid. When it wasn’t raining, natural light soaked the interior like melted butter on a hot pita. When rain did fall, the rhythmic tapping lulled the inhabitants like an ambient symphony score. Colorful hieroglyphs tagged the limestone walls. Carved alabaster pots detailed the burial spots of their ancestors. And a Beb-made river, filled with water from the Nile, snaked through every room in the palace. On special occasions, Hasina would adorn the stream with glittering tea lights. Otherwise it held blue Egyptian water lilies. Tonight it had both.
“Five minutes,” Beb announced.
“Hang it up!” Cleo decided with a sudden clap of her hands. Chisisi, the most timid of the family’s seven cats, darted up the towering date palm that grew in the middle of the room.
“Sorry, Chi,” Cleo cooed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
A quiet chime echoed through the hall. It wasn’t Cleo who had scared Chisisi after all. It was—
“He’s home!” Hasina shouted as she saw the crisp image of her boss in the security monitor by the real door.
“Hurry!” Cleo snapped.
Hasina pressed her corner of the banner to the column with stick-or-else urgency and then eyed her husband, prompting him to do the same. But they were too late.
“Sir!” Hasina’s dark cheeks turned the color of ripe plums. She quickly stepped off the gold arm of the throne and brushed away any prints her gladiator sandals might have left behind. Without another word, she and Beb escaped to the kitchen. Seconds later, high-speed vocals exploded from the built-in speakers. With Mariah Carey’s multi-octave range and Alvin and the Chipmunks’ sound, Sharkiat rocked the palace with “Ya Helilah Ya Helilah.”
“Daddy!” Cleo squealed, sounding both crisp and mushy, like a melted M&M. “Welcome home! How was your trip? Do you like my banner? I made it myself.” She stood proudly between the columns and waited for his response. Even though she was on the mature side of fifteen (thanks to mummification), she still craved her father’s approval. And sometimes that could be harder to get than lash extensions in a desert sandstorm.
But not tonight. Tonight, Ram pushed past his assistant, Manu, and headed straight for his daughter, his arms open to I-love-you-this-much proportions.
“Sir!” Manu called, his smooth voice jagged with concern. “Your coat!”
“Princess!” Ram said, pulling Cleo into his soggy black trench and squeezing hard. Torrents of rain couldn’t wash away the stale smells of an international flight and a chauffeur-driven Bentley filled with cigar smoke, or the heady musk scent of his skin. Not that Cleo minded. He could have smelled like the cats’ litter box after a long drink of Nile water and she would have kept hugging him.
Gripping her shoulders, he created some distance between them and studied Cleo intensely. His lavish attention made her squirm.
Is my Herve Leger bandage dress too snug? My purple eyeliner too thick? My glitter mascara too garish? The brown henna stars on my cheekbones too small?
Cleo giggled nervously. “What?”
“Are you okay?” He sighed, exhaling the sweet smell of tobacco. There was something unfamiliar behind his dark, almond-shaped eyes. It was soft. Searching. Maybe even scared. In most people it would be perceived as anxiety. But in her father it looked foreign. Like some buried emotion exhumed on his archaeological dig.
Cleo smiled up at him. “Of course I’m okay. Why?”
A soft bell clanged from the dining area. The appetizers were ready. Chisisi scurried down the date palm. Bastet, Akins, Ebonee, Ufa, Usi, and Miu-Miu padded out from under the chaise and toward the hearty spread. Cleo grinned warmly at the predictability of it all. But not Ram. Worry hardened his face like a Dead Sea clay mask.
“The news is everywhere.” He rubbed his temples, his salt-and-pepper hair saltier than usual. “What was that Frankie girl thinking? How could the Steins have let this happen? They’ve put our entire community in danger.”
“So you heard?” Cleo asked. But what she really wanted to know was how much he had heard.
Ram pulled a rolled-up Salem News from his inside pocket and smacked it against his palm, putting a sharp end to their tender moment. “Did Viktor forget to add a brain to that daughter of his? Because I can’t for the life of Geb figure out why—”
The appetizer bell rang again.
Suddenly, the urge to defend Frankie welled inside Cleo. Or maybe that urge was a need to defend herself? “It’s not like anyone knows her name. And at school she wears all of that normie makeup, so no one recognized her. Maybe she was trying to grab the ka by the horns,” Cleo suggested, rocking nervously in her strappy platforms. “You know, to change things.”
“What kinds of things? She was created a month ago. What gives her the right to change anything?” he asked, lifting his gaze toward the WELCOME HOME banner. Finally! But his sharp features showed no signs of appreciation.
How do you know so much about Frankie? Cleo couldn’t help wondering. Because, seriously! She had friends whose parents didn’t venture farther than San Francisco. Yet they remained wonderfully oblivious to the house parties and late-night joyrides that went on in their absence. Meanwhile, her dad goes digging for artifacts on the other side of the planet and returns more dialed in than a radio station during a ticket giveaway. It was total ka!
“What’s with your generation?” he continued, ignoring her question. “You have no appreciation for the past. No respect for heritage or tradition. All you want to do is—”
“Sir?” Manu interrupted, his bald head glistening with raindrops. He clutched the handle of an aluminum briefcase with such intensity that his dark knuckles had turned gray. “Where would you like this?”
While considering his answer, Ram stroked the travel-day stubble blooming on his face. After a moment, he glanced at Cleo and then gestured toward the grand double doors at the far end of the hall. Firmly gripping his daughter’s elbow, he led her across the airy foyer with well-rehearsed grace, and they stepped into the throne room.
A family of falcons flapped out and headed for the date palm. The birds’ pointed wings echoed throughout the palace like flags snapping in the wind.
Lit by flaming alabaster oil lamps, the hammered copper walls reflected a soft amber glow. A smooth woven reed aisle, polished by thousands of years of barefoot ancestors, led to the riser upon which their thrones sat. Cleo slid onto the purple velvet seat cushion and rested her palms on the jewel-encrusted golden armrests. Instinctively, her chin jutted forward and her eyelids lowered to half-mast. Now, with her vision slightly obscured, everything came to her in bits and pieces. She was suddenly a queen, taking dainty sips of her kingdo
m instead of swallowing it in one big gulp: the black-and-emerald scarab above the doorway… the bulrushes along the snaking Nile… the two ebony sarcophagi that flanked the entrance.
The sights, smells, and sounds of her kingdom banished the tension of the last couple of days and made her feel safe, especially now that its ruler had returned. Breathing became less labored, and her skin tingled with entitlement. Oh, how right royal felt.
Once they were settled, Manu gently lowered the briefcase onto the copper table between the thrones and then stepped back to await further instruction.
Open it, Ram conveyed with a mere flick of his wrist.
Manu clicked open the case, lifted the velvet-lined top, and took a long step backward.
“Behold,” Ram said. “I found it in Aunt Nefertiti’s tomb.” He twisted his emerald thumb ring with quiet confidence.
Cleo leaned over the armrest and gasped. She immediately began taking a mental inventory of the bounty that lay glistening before her.
A lapis necklace fashioned in the shape of a falcon, its widespread wings meant to rest on the collarbones of Egypt’s most admired women
Hammered cuffs joined by a ruby-and-emerald eye of Horus
A solid-gold vulture-shaped crown, which was so weighted down with shiny jewels that Cleo could see her wide, desire-filled eyes mirrored in every colored stone
A gold spiral ring with a gum ball–sized gray moonstone that practically glowed in the dark
Pear-shaped jade earrings wrapped in gold wire that made Angelina Jolie’s 2009 Oscar emeralds look like hair baubles
A gold collar necklace with pearls and peacock feathers hanging off the bottom
A ruby-eyed snake cuff meant to wind up the arm, from wrist to bicep
The Ghoul Next Door Page 1
