“You don’t need to take my money anyway… but imagine how loaded I’d be from Twilight?” Lala said.
“I’d complain too,” Blue scratched her scaly arms, “but Creature from the Black Lagoon wasn’t exactly a bonzer at the box office.”
“How did you know I was a RAD?” Frankie asked Cleo, suddenly wondering who else might be onto her.
“I thought I saw you spark in the cafeteria. And then I saw it again in Lala’s car.”
“That’s not the only time I sparked yesterday.” Frankie giggled.
“That power outage was you?” Blue asked.
Frankie nodded sheepishly.
“Fang-tastic!” Lala clapped.
“Do you have any idea how much I hate the dark?” Cleo asked. “It reminds me of being buried alive.”
“I thought I heard you screaming.”
“My masseuse had to piggyback me outta there,” Cleo admitted. “I was scared stiff.”
“You mean, you are a scared stiff,” Lala teased.
The girls burst out laughing.
“It’s so voltage that you’re all RADs,” Frankie trilled. “I never would have thought—”
The door slammed. Everyone turned to find a pack of preppy, albeit hairy, boys entering the party, their long fingers clutching supersized McDonald’s takeout bags. Without a single word, they sat at the stone picnic table and began devouring their Big Macs.
“Claude!” Cleo shouted at the oldest-looking boy, who had dark, curly hair and was dressed in khakis and a blue blazer. “Where’s your sister?”
“In the tunnel crying,” he said, chewing fiercely. “She got tagged again.”
Cleo and Lala exchanged a sympathetic pout.
“You don’t have to howl it to the whole world!” Claudine shouted from the other side of the door.
“Um, you’re the one howling, not me,” he called, unwrapping another Big Mac and tossing the bun away.
“What am I supposed to do?” Claudine entered, sobbing. “Look what they did to me.” She tugged the patch of red fur around her neck.
“What happened?” Cleo patted her arm.
“It was those PETA activists again. They think I’m wearing fur.”
“You are,” Frankie reasoned.
“Yeah.” Claudine unbuttoned her navy-blue coat and revealed her amber one. “My own!”
Frankie gasped in horror. Not from the shock of seeing werewolf hair under a sexy nightie as much as from the memory of suggesting Claudine remove her fur. If only she had known!
“Ugh!” the wolf growled. “If the stupid power didn’t go out yesterday, I would have gotten my wax, and none of this would have happened.”
Frankie sat on the arm of a nearby couch and pretended to pick a loose ankle seam.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Cleo hugged the distraught lycanthrope. “Mummy’s here.”
Claudine burst out laughing and wiped her wet nose on Cleo’s cloth-wrapped shoulder. “That might be the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No, I think Lala’s ‘RAD hair day’ comment was worse.”
“You know”—Lala finger-combed Claudine’s tagged tuft while changing the subject—“it’s kind of punk rock.”
Claudine glared at her. “What’s with your forehead?”
“Mascara!” Blue called.
“Surprise, surprise,” Cleo teased.
“What?” Lala flashed fang. “I can’t see my reflection, okay? At least I’m trying,” she insisted, sitting on the couch beside Frankie.
“Hey, what’s she doing here?” Claudine asked, suddenly noticing the newcomer.
Frankie pointed to her bolts.
“Oh, cool.” Claudine sat, unfazed, as if she pierced necks at the mall for a living.
Frankie noticed embroidery on the nightie—it said CLAWDEEN. “Oh,” she said, pointing, “is that how you spell your name? It’s cool.”
Clawdeen looked down. “That’s how my parents spell it. But at school it’s just easier to go with the normie spelling. Fewer annoying comments.”
Ms. J entered and flipped the latch on the wooden door.
What about Brett?
Frankie let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t like her. He wasn’t an option.
Ms. J shut off the stereo and everyone sat, like in a game of musical chairs. Blue wrapped herself in a plush red robe and joined the girls on the couch.
“Sorry I’m late,” Ms. J announced. “Car trouble.”
“Yeah, remind me to use that one the next time I’m late for biology,” Claude barked.
Everyone chuckled.
“You need to get your license first,” she fired back, stepping up to the stone podium that faced the couch klatch.
“Eleven days,” Claude announced.
The RADs applauded. He stood and bowed while Frankie studied Ms. J with renewed interest. Woody Allen glasses, a sharp black bob, red lipstick, and a collection of pencil skirts and blouses in varying shades of black made her interesting for a teacher. But as a RAD, she lacked pizzazz.
“What’s she in for?” Frankie whispered to Lala.
“She’s a normie, but her son is a RAD, only he doesn’t know. She thinks not knowing will protect him.”
“Is it Brett?” Frankie whispered excitedly.
“Hardly.” Lala feigned a swoon.
“Before we get started on today’s topic, I’d like to introduce our newest member,” Ms. J said. “Frankie Stein.”
Frankie stood while everyone applauded. Their smiles so warm, they looked fresh from the oven. She smiled back with her entire body.
“Please introduce yourself to Frankie after the meeting if you haven’t already done so. Okay, moving on…” Ms. J said. She flipped through some notes on a yellow legal pad. “As you know, there was a RAD sighting at Mount Hood High last week.”
Frankie tugged at her neck seams.
“I’m guessing it was a prank, but the normies are taking it very seriously. Several are staying indoors—”
“Awoooooooooo!” Clawdeen’s brothers howled and stomped their loafers.
“Heel!” Ms. J snapped, her bob swinging. “There’s already adversity in this world. We need to come from a place of love. Got it?” she yelled.
The boys quieted down immediately.
“My point is, we need to exercise extreme caution until this blows over. Normie interactions should be kept friendly but distant—”
Cleo’s hand shot up. “Ms. J? When you say ‘distant,’ does that mean no kissing Melodork?”
“Is she a normie?”
Cleo nodded.
The teacher removed her glasses and shot Cleo an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that? glance. “Then you know the answer.”
Deuce stood and faced his girlfriend. “Cleo, you have to let it go!” His snakes hissed in agreement. “I told you she attacked me. I had nothing to do with it. I love you and only you.”
Cleo’s thick (possibly false) lashes fluttered. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it in front of everyone. Anyway, she doesn’t like you. She likes Jackson.”
Everyone giggled except Ms. J—and Frankie, who couldn’t help wondering why the boys thought Melody was so voltage. Because she sounded like nothing more than a boyfriend stealer.
“Are you through, Cleo?” said Ms. J.
“That depends.” She fixed her gaze back on Deuce. “Are you?”
Deuce nodded and then blew Cleo a kiss.
Cleo blew one back.
Deuce sat down on the stone carpet. He put on his headphones, and the snakes settled immediately.
Cleo smirked at Ms. J. “Now I’m through.”
“Nice!” Clawdeen lifted her hand, and the girls high-fived.
“If everyone is through, then I’d like to move on to something a little more… pressing.” Ms. J stood and pushed back the puffy sleeves of her black blouse. “It came to my attention during our Friday staff meeting that this year’s September Semi is going to have a theme
.”
Blue raised her webbed hand. “Under the Sea?”
“I’m afraid not, Lagoona Blue,” Ms. J said sadly. “In light of the alleged monster sighting, they think it would be festive to make it a… a”—she inhaled deeply, then exhaled—“Monster Mash.”
The reaction was so explosive, Frankie imagined the carousel popping off its hinges and spiraling down Front Street.
“That’s so offensive!”
“Totally cliché!”
“We did that in middle school, and it was lame back then.”
“How ’bout we have a Normie Mash?”
“We could all dress exactly the same and do absolutely nothing special.”
“Yeah, but if we go as normies, we’ll have to stay home!”
“And lock the doors.”
“And tell each other stories about all the scary monsters.”
Frankie started sparking. Not because she found the Monster Mash theme offensive, but because she didn’t. Not even a little bit. And saying nothing when you could be right seemed worse than saying something and being wrong.
Frankie’s hand shot up. “Um, can I just say one thing?”
Her voice was too soft to get anyone’s attention, but her finger fireworks did the trick. Once the kids in the room settled down, so did the sparks. Everyone stared expectantly. But Frankie wasn’t afraid. She knew that what she was saying would impress them even more than her light show.
“Um, I kind of think the Monster Mash theme is a good thing.”
The murmurs started up again. Cleo kicked her in the shin, just as she had done in the car. But Ms. J clapped twice and returned the floor to Frankie.
“I think normies wanting to dress like us is a compliment,” she said. “Isn’t imitation the best form of flattery?” Some people nodded, considering Frankie’s words. “I mean, who isn’t tired of copying their style?”
Lala and Blue applauded, the sound of their support charging her like the sun.
“Maybe it’s a sign of the times. Maybe normies are ready for a change. Maybe they need us to show them they don’t have to be afraid. And maybe the best way to do that is to go to the Monster Mash without costumes.”
Murmurs rose like abandoned helium balloons. Ms. J lifted her palm.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” she asked.
Frankie tugged at her neck seam. “Um, I guess I’m saying a costume party with a monster theme means we can go as ourselves. Then once everyone is having a good time, we can show the normies that we’re not in costume. They’ll realize we’re harmless, and we’ll be able to live freely and openly.”
The room was silent.
“I could finally let my hair down,” Deuce joked.
“I could take off this ridiculous blazer,” Claude said.
“I could smile for pictures,” Lala announced.
“Doesn’t matter.” Cleo grinned. “It’s not like you show up on film, anyway.”
Lala bared her fangs. Cleo rolled her eyes. Then they both giggled.
“How about we put it to a vote?” Ms. J said. “All in favor of coming out of the casket during the September Semi, raise your hand.”
Frankie’s arm shot up. Hers was the only one.
“All in favor of staying hidden?”
Everyone else raised an arm. Ms. J raised two.
“Really?” Frankie sat, unable to make eye contact with anyone. Not that they were trying. Disappointment and shame fought inside Frankie for heart-space domination. But total depression came out of nowhere and stole the title.
Why was everyone so afraid? How would things ever change if they didn’t take a chance? Will I ever dance on the beach with Brett?
“It’s settled, then,” Ms. J announced. “Forty-three to one—”
“Two,” said a boy’s voice.
Frankie searched the room for her only supporter but saw no one.
“Over here,” said a floating sticker hovering above her. The sticker read HELLO, MY NAME IS BILLY. “Hey. I just wanted to let you know you had my vote.”
“Voltage,” Frankie said, trying to sound enthused by her invisible brother in arms.
“What are we going to do?” Ms. J shouted.
“Hide with pride!” everyone shouted back.
Everyone but Frankie.
LOST CHAPTER
(WHOSE UNLUCKY NUMBER SHALL GO UNMENTIONED)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HIDE AND GO SHRIEK
“Can anyone tell me what an autotroph is?” Ms. J asked her science students, holding up a flash card.
Frankie’s Fierce & Flawless–covered hand shot up. Most of her friends were still yawning from the late-night RIP gathering, but she was on fire—in a good way.
“Yes, Frankie?” Ms. J asked.
“An autotroph is something that makes energy directly from the sun.”
“Very good.” She held up another card. “What about anabiotic?”
Frankie raised her hand again, wishing she had chosen a more forgiving blazer. Tweed was so tight and itchy. At least borrowing Lala’s pink cashmere scarf allowed her to lower the collar. But now she was stuck wearing a scarf in class. What next? A whiplash brace? A plastic dog cone? Clawdeen’s tagged tuft?
Ms. J scanned the four rows of desks. Her hazel eyes considered each student equally, as if yesterday had never happened.
Meanwhile, Lala, Cleo, Clawdeen, and Blue were just as nonchalant. Dressed in their regular school clothes, doodling in their notebooks, checking for split ends, picking their cuticles… They behaved exactly like every other girl in the class. Bored and normal.
The only person showing any RAD pride was Brett, who sat next to her carving a bikini-clad zombie into his desk. It was definitely a sign. Their beach day was coming.
“Yes, Frankie?” Ms. J said, sounding a little bored herself.
“Anabiotic describes something that is living in a state of suspended animation.”
“Good.” She flipped a card. “And biotic?”
“A cyborg!” Brett blurted. “Like Steve Austin on that old TV show The Six Million Dollar Man.”
“Who?” Bekka asked, sounding slightly jealous.
“He was so awesome.” Brett perked up. “He could run sixty miles an hour, and his eye was like a zoom lens and—”
“That’s bionic,” Ms. J corrected. Everyone snickered. “I’m asking about bio-tic.”
Frankie raised her hand, determined to show Brett that she was more than just a pretty face.
“Anyone other than Frankie?” Ms. J sighed.
No one breathed.
“Biotic describes something that’s living,” Frankie volunteered, grateful for her parents’ biology obsession.
“Good.” Ms. J carefully pinched a piece of chalk, mindful of the dusty blackboard ledge and what it might do to her dark attire. “As you know, all things are either—”
Frankie raised her hand again and spoke. “Are the undead anabiotic?”
Lala, Cleo, Clawdeen, and Blue lifted their heads and exchanged a fearful glance.
Ms. J removed her black-framed glasses. “Excuse me?”
Frankie couldn’t see the logic in being intimidated by someone who was obviously intimidated herself. Raising awareness was the first step in creating change… and getting Brett to notice her.
“What about zombies? Or vampires and phantoms? What are they considered?”
“Yeah!” Brett chimed in. “Zombies are definitely anabiotic.”
He smiled at Frankie. She radiated back. Bekka, who was seated on the other side of him, kicked the metal leg of his chair.
Ms. J slammed the chalk back on the ledge. “That’s quite enough! I’m talking about real science here. Not some mythical—”
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“On your desks!” Ms. J shouted. She jumped up on her own desk at the front of the room.
No one moved. Instead, all the students looked to their neighbors, wondering if this was some new pran
k-show trick. How else to explain a deafening siren, their teacher’s sudden hysteria, and their confusion?
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“Now! This is an emergency drill.”
This time they did what they were told.
“Good thing I wore my flats today,” Cleo mumbled, admiring the bronze finish on her three-inch gladiator wedges.
The girls giggled, still not knowing what they were being drilled for.
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“Silence!” Ms. J snapped.
“Tell that to the siren,” Clawdeen barked. Her hands were covering her ears, and her face was contorted in pain. “It’s deafening.”
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“Maybe you have bionic ears,” Brett joked, from the top of his desk.
“Or dog senses,” Bekka added.
“You would know,” Clawdeen hissed. “With all those freckles, you must be half-Dalmatian.”
Bekka gasped and then looked to Brett, expecting him to rush to her defense. But he couldn’t. He was too busy fighting the urge to laugh.
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“Now lift up your chairs and jab them into the air,” Ms. J insisted, demonstrating on her own desk. With her black skirt, satin blouse, and paint-the-town-red lips, she could have been in a photo shoot for a new trend called lion-tamer chic. “And make as much noise as you can.”
She eyed her students, who were all at various stages of chair lifting and jabbing. Yet not even the most obedient ones could bring themselves to make noise.
“What are we doing?” Cleo asked, refusing to lift a heavy chair unless absolutely necessary.
Whooping, shouting, yelping, and stomping echoed through the empty halls. Clearly, the other classes were more open to this mysterious exercise.
“It’s a drill,” Ms. J repeated, still poking at the air with chair legs.
Reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo reeeeewoooooo…
“What kind of drill?” Several voices overlapped.
“A monster drill, okay?”
“A what?” Lala asked through tight lips.
“A monster drill,” Ms. J lowered the chair, “in case there’s a sighting at our school. Principal Weeks thinks it’s best to be prepared.”
Monster High 01 - Monster High Page 11