Melody swallowed a deep breath of courage but still couldn’t speak. What if he left her? She’d have no one. But how could she not tell him? He’d find out in forty-seven hours anyway.…
She sat beside him.
“Um, so you know that…” She swallowed more courage.
“What?”
“That video of you turning into… you-know-who?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” She took one more deep breath and then…
“BekkafounditonmyphoneandisthreateningtogopublicwithitunlessIfindthepretendgreenmonsterwhomadeoutwithBrett.” She squeezed her eyes tight, as if bracing for a slap.
But Jackson didn’t lift a finger. He didn’t jump to his feet and begin pacing. He didn’t grab his head with both hands and scream “Whyyyyy meeee?” at the starless sky. He just sat there. Rocking back and forth, quietly contemplating the predicament.
“Say something.”
He turned to face her. “I know where she is.”
Melody smacked his kneecap. “Come on, this is serious.”
“I am serious,” he insisted.
“So she’s… real?”
“Very.”
“How do you know her?”
“D.J. kind of led me there.” He smirked. “I think he likes her.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No. This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening.” Jackson chuckled, because what else could he do?
Melody stood and began pacing. Was she still on her father’s operating table having some kind of anesthesia dream?
“So, technically, you have a girlfriend?”
“I’m not sure if they’ve had the talk yet, but she seemed pretty into him.”
“Okay.” Melody cooled. “I guess this is good, right? You can take me there. I can find out her deal and then give her up to Bekka.”
“No, you can’t,” Jackson said.
“Why not?”
“Because D.J. likes her. I can’t do that to him… or me, or whoever.… He’s kind of like my brother, I guess.”
“What about what this is going to do to you? And your mom? And us?” Melody’s voice quaked. “If Bekka shows this video to the police, they’ll think you’re a monster. They could arrest you… or make you leave Salem.”
“I can’t, Melly,” he said softly. “She was sweet.”
Jackson’s willingness to martyr himself for this… thing made Melody like him even more. He had character. Heart. Conviction. He obviously valued romance and relationships. And he was a much better kisser than Scarbucks. Melody didn’t have to date a Candace-number of guys to know that those qualities were hard to find. Which was why she intended to do everything possible to save him, even if one of those things was a tad amoral.
“I understand,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something else out.”
He sighed, smiling. “Thanks.”
“Hey,” Melody said enthusiastically, “so I have another way we can get that video back. It’s in my room. Wanna see?”
“Definitely.” Jackson stood. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Melody up the uneven wooden steps to her bedroom.
“Shhhhhh,” she said with a finger to her lips. “Everyone’s sleeping.” She shut the door behind them.
“Now, where are my notes?” She poked around the boxes.
“Notes?” Jackson shuffled from one foot to the other uncomfortably.
“I know I hid them in here somewhere. I can’t keep anything lying around with Candace on the loose. She’s so nosy.”
“Hey, do you mind if I plug in the fan?” Jackson asked, ducking under her loft bed.
“Why? Is the heat getting to you?”
“A little.”
“I think it’s in Candace’s room.”
“No, it’s right here.” He aimed the plug for the socket.
“Stop!” Melody leaped toward him and yanked it away. “I like it warm.”
“It’s not warm—it’s stifling,” he said, then studied her for a moment. Suddenly he gasped. “No. Forget it! You can’t do this to me. It’s wrong!” He reached for the cord, but Melody pulled it away.
His forehead was starting to bead.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“This isn’t the right way.” He wiped his brow.
“It’s the only way!”
Remembering the ThermaFoil, she pulled the lavender duvet off her bed and threw it over his head.
Just a few more seconds…
“Melody, stop!” He punched the blanket, but Melody hugged it in place.
“You’ll thank me.”
“You’re going to suffocate me!”
“I’m going to save you!”
He stopped struggling.
“Jackson?”
He didn’t make a sound.
“Jackson?”
Silence.
“Jackson? Oh my god, please don’t be dead!” She whipped off the blanket.
His glasses were off. His hair was wet. His cheeks were flushed.
“You again?” he asked.
“Hey, D.J.,” Melody said, beaming. “Wanna go see Firecracker?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHARGED UP
A pebble bounced off the frosted-glass window.
Then another. Plink.
Frankie rolled onto her back.
And another. Plink.
She thought of a woman tapping impatiently on a countertop. Maybe it was that angry mob from her dreams, coming to put her out of her misery, once and for all.
She rolled onto her stomach, the lyrics of Alicia Keys’s “Try Sleeping With a Broken Heart” playing on a constant loop in her head. Frankie wanted to stand on her metal bed and shout, “I’m trying to right now, and it’s incredibly hard because I can’t stop thinking about Brett, D.J., my friends, my family, and all the people who are afraid of me, so will you please keep it down?” But she didn’t want to wake her parents. The sun would rise in an hour, and they’d be up shortly after that.
And then what?
Rolling onto her back, she wondered how much longer she could avoid them by pretending to sleep. A day? A week? A decade? Whatever it took, she was up for it. Shame was an intolerable emotion. But it required the presence of another person to survive. Someone to tisk-tisk while shaking their head side to side, then to rattle off the ways she had disappointed them. Without that person, the emotion gets downgraded to guilt. And while guilt can also be horribly uncomfortable, it’s an easier sentence to serve, because it’s self-imposed. And can therefore be self-removed.
“Firecracker?”
Frankie sat up slowly, not sure whether she should trust her ears. After all, they were controlled by her brain, which had proven to be very unreliable.
“Firecracker! Open up!”
D.J. is back!
Frankie thought about playing hard to get and making him think she’d moved on. Girls did it in movies all the time. But she was under house arrest. Where would she be moving on to, exactly? The kitchen?
“Shhhh,” she hissed, quickly covering the unsightly hospital gown with her black satin Harajuku Lovers robe.
Frankie unlatched the window. D.J. quickly squeezed inside, like a grown dog through a puppy door. The sight of him spread a neon rainbow across her stormy day. Which was odd, since she had been all about Brett less than ten hours earlier. Or maybe she was all about D.J. then too, but she just hadn’t known it yet.
“What happened to you? Why did you take off like…” Frankie paused as a second body began to poke through the window. It had shiny dark hair, black clothes, and a perfect nose. And it landed with a thump.
“Shhhh,” Frankie hissed again.
“Oh my god, it’s you,” Melody said, awestruck. “Your skin is really gree—”
“What is she doing here?” Frankie toggled between confusion and rage.
“I
have no idea.” D.J. twirled his index finger near his temple, crossed his eyes, and then whispered, “I think she’s obsessed with me.”
“Whoa!” Melody wandered farther into the room. “What is this place?” She pointed at the glass cage by Frankie’s bed. “Ew, are those rats?”
“Seriously, why is she here?” Frankie snapped.
D.J. pressed his mouth against her ear. “She’s everywhere lately. I’m considering a restraining order.”
His warm breath against her neck made Frankie spark from both hands.
“Man, I missed that.” D.J. pulled her in for a hug.
“What’s with that table? And those copper wires? And that switch marked HIGH VOLTAGE?” Melody asked, slack-jawed. “What is this place?”
“Why were you acting so weird before?” Frankie asked D.J., and she pushed him away, desperate for answers. “Why did you just take off? Why—”
“What are you? Like, Frankenstein’s daughter or something?” Melody laughed.
“Granddaughter, if you must know,” Frankie snapped. “And if you keep interrupting me, I’m going to shock you like I did that day in the cafeteria.”
Melody hurried toward her. “But you looked so…”
Frankie put her hands on her hips and glared. “White?”
Melody nodded.
Frankie sniffed. “Yeah, well, people around here aren’t as go-green as they claim.”
“I think you’re awesome-looking.” Melody stepped closer and reached for Frankie’s hand. “Can I?”
Frankie shrugged like she didn’t care. “If you want.”
“Are you going to shock me again?” Melody teased.
“Maybe.”
Melody studied Frankie’s expression with serious gray eyes, as if it might reveal her true intentions. But whether it did or not, Melody still touched her. She wasn’t afraid to run a finger along Frankie’s wrist seam. Or maybe she was, but she did it anyway. Frankie respected that.
“Wanna touch my skin?” Melody asked, like she was a monster too.
Frankie nodded. “Feels like mine, only colder.”
“Yeah.” Melody rolled her eyes. “I’m always cold.”
“Really? I’m always hot. I guess it’s from getting charged and stuff.”
“So, wait.” Melody cocked her head. “You really get charged? How does that work?”
“Um, hello.” D.J. pointed at his face. “Handsome guy in the room!”
Melody giggled. Frankie wasn’t quite there yet.
Outside, the creeping morning light began brightening the milky frosting on the window. Still, it was impossible to see anything clearly. Frankie’s view—a kaleidoscope of blurry shapes and shadows—was a warning. Visiting hours were almost over.
“So, what happened to you?” she asked D.J., getting back to business. “Why did you act like you didn’t know me, and just take off?”
“Maybe I can explain.” Melody waved awkwardly, a stranger all over again.
“Just like a stalker…” D.J. mumbled. “An explanation for everything.”
Frankie searched for a place to sit, now that her lounge was gone. But she quickly gave up once Melody began.
As the rising sun continued to count down the minutes, the normie talked about her crush on Jackson Jekyll, his overheating issues, his mother, who was Ms. J the science teacher, his deranged ancestor, and how sweat plus deranged ancestor equaled D.J. Hyde.
Then she went on about Bekka, jealousy, Brett, the kiss, the head incident, the video of Jackson, the blackmail, needing to turn in Frankie, the forty-eight-hour deadline—which was now more like forty-six—and how she didn’t know what to do.
“So, let me get this straight.” D.J. beamed before Frankie could respond. “I’m hooking up with both of you?”
Melody sighed. “Technically.”
“Yeah!” D.J. high-fived himself.
Frankie touched the back pocket of his jeans. There was a sizzle-pop sound and then a flash of light.
“Ouch!” he shouted, grabbing his butt.
“Shhhhhh.” Frankie covered his mouth.
“That one hurt!” he mumbled through her hand.
“It was supposed to.” Frankie stepped away. “In case you weren’t listening, none of this is good news. None of it!”
“Fine.” He walked away, fanning the back of his jeans.
“So you’re going to turn me over to Bekka?” Frankie’s voice trembled.
“Well.” Melody sighed. “I was initially, I guess… but…” She sighed again. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why not?” Frankie looked down. A teardrop landed on her robe and bled across the black satin. “Everyone else does.”
Melody looked like she was considering this. “I guess I know how you feel.”
“Wait…” Frankie lifted her eyes. “Are you a RAD?”
“What’s a RAD?”
“It’s the nonoffensive way of saying ‘monster,’” Frankie explained. “It means Regular Attribute Dodger.”
“I was, but I kind of stopped dodging.” Melody grinned, as if bidding farewell to a fading memory. She pointed at her nose for some reason. “But sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”
“Why?” Frankie asked, unable to imagine why anyone would want to go through what she was going through now.
“Because when you’re different-looking and people like you anyway, you know it’s for all the right reasons. And not because they think you’re a physical threat who might steal their boyfriend.”
“Huh?” Frankie dried her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe.
“I’m saying I’m on your side.” Melody smiled a worried but pretty smile. “I don’t want to give in to intimidation. I want to fight. I want people to stop being so afraid of each other’s differences. So people like Jackson… and you…”
“And me,” D.J. added.
“… and D.J. can live normal lives.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Frankie reached for her neck seams but hit gauze.
“First we have to get that video away from Bekka,” Melody said.
“How? I’m not allowed to leave this room for, like, ever, so…” Saying it out loud made it real.
“I have no idea,” Melody admitted. “But I do know we have to work together, we can’t get caught, and we have two days to pull it off.”
“Oh, voltage.” Frankie sighed hopelessly.
Melody offered her right hand to Frankie. “Are you in?”
“I’m in,” Frankie said, shaking it.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Melody admitted.
“Yes, it is,” D.J. said as he lovingly lifted two members of the Glitterati from their cage. He held up a rat in each hand as if weighing them, and then kissed them both. “The hard part is deciding who gets me when all of this is over.”
Frankie sparked. But this time Melody didn’t pull away. Neither did Frankie. Instead, they continued shaking hands, cementing their allegiance in the battle for tolerance and acceptance…
… and declaring war in their fight for love.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Barry Waldo, Cindy Ledermann, and my editor Erin Stein (no relation to Frankie) for trusting me. You have been voltage!
I would have hit a monster low while writing Monster High had it not been for the following people: Kevin Harrison, Luke and Jess, Alex Kohner, Logan Claire, Jim Kiick, Hallie Jones,Jocy Orozco, Shalia Gottlieb, Ken Gottlieb, and JJ’s Diet Coke & gum delivery.
—Lisi Out.
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Monster High Page 19
