“I most definitely did not, but I am rather certain that Chewy ate my antique watch this morning. There was a notable ticking sound coming from his pot,” Rochelle stated as Venus attempted to cover her friend’s mouth with vines.
“Well, we’d better get go—” Venus began to mumble.
“I didn’t think gargoyles could get cavities,” Deuce interjected.
“Only Scarisian gargoyles can,” Venus fibbed poorly. “It’s from… eating all that smelly cheese. A lot of people don’t realize it, but smelly cheese is really bad for your teeth.”
“That is empirically false,” Rochelle asserted after freeing her mouth of vines. “Smelly cheese has absolutely no effect on your teeth. And Deuce, you are correct; gargoyles cannot get cavities. We are, however, highly susceptible to grinding our teeth, which is why most gargoyles—my pet, Roux, included—wear night guards.”
Deuce immediately erupted in a fit of laughter. “You guys are a riot,” he declared before wandering off.
“Thanks. Yeah, this whole thing is just material from our comedy routine,” Venus called after him.
“We do not have a comedy routine. And I should mention that gargoyles are not well known for their sense of humor,” Rochelle corrected Venus.
“What is wrong with you? I was trying to help! Do you even realize that you told Deuce you were lucky to look into his eyes? That if you were him, you would stay home all day looking at yourself in the mirror? It was as if a soap-opera character hijacked your brain! And not a good one. A really embarrassing one who says things like ‘I love you, Victor Marcoplis, and I’ll make you mine if it kills me’ while looking directly into the camera.”
“Your parents let you watch too much television as a child.”
“Or maybe yours didn’t let you watch enough,” Venus shot back while fixing her tangled vines.
“Let’s debate this another time. We’re going to be late for Home Ick if we wait any longer for Robecca.”
“I think we should reconsider my idea of putting Robecca on a leash. It really is for her own good.”
“She’s not a bullfrog,” Rochelle responded, immediately thinking of the pumpkin heads’ pets.
“You do realize that bullfrogs don’t normally walk on leashes? That trio of pumpkin heads is just really weird,” Venus explained as they started down the crowded hall, heading directly into a flurry of excitement.
miss Flapper frolicked effortlessly down the purple-and-green corridor. The nimble-footed European was leading a bevy of trolls who themselves were walking small green dragons, each no larger than an average house cat. The unusually delicate Miss Flapper appeared almost to be walking on air, so light and feminine was her step. Dressed head to toe in white Scaremès couture, the woman floated from student to student, whispering in their ears. And while no one could hear what she was saying, it must have been terribly intense. The students’ faces momentarily flashed blank before morphing back to normal.
“What do you suppose Miss Flapper is whispering to them?” Venus asked Rochelle as a pod of pumpkin heads knocked against her in their pursuit of the popular teacher.
“Although this is purely conjecture, it’s possible she is informing them of the trolls’ dubious Bitealian vaccination records.”
“Miss Flapper is so pretty, like a perfect Persian kitty,” Sam, James, and Marvin the pumpkin heads sang loudly upon presenting themselves to their teacher.
“Oh, pumpkin heads,” Miss Flapper purred in her soft yet raspy voice, “it’s such a shame you’re not in my class. You really must join my after-school club, the Monster Advancement League League. We added the extra league so that we might call ourselves MALL,” Miss Flapper said before leaning in to whisper in their ears.
With a self-satisfied smile, the beguiling woman continued down the corridor, whispering to everyone from Draculaura to Cleo de Nile, until she found herself face-to-face with Rochelle. Miss Flapper leaned in slowly, her rose perfume instantly reminding the petite gargoyle of Garrott and the amazing rosebush he had created in her honor. However, just as the woman parted her perfect pink lips to whisper in Rochelle’s ear, a voice cut through the hall, causing the young gargoyle to turn her head abruptly.
“Deary me! I’m late again!” Robecca’s voice echoed through the corridor.
“She’s baaack,” Venus drawled, and Miss Flapper moved on, making her way toward Ghoulia Yelps.
“In the name of the mouse’s house, I haven’t a clue what happened to me!” Robecca called out loudly while crossing the busy corridor to Venus and Rochelle.
As always seemed to happen, the steam-ridden Robecca bumped into Cy Clops amid the throng of students. Unfortunately, her metal plates were still sweltering, making the collision more than a little painful for the one-eyed boy.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry!” she cried.
“Quiet in hall! Quiet!” a troll yelled.
“But I’m late! Surely that is a worse offense than talking loudly!” Robecca protested.
“Go class or I eat you!” the troll countered angrily.
“Oh, stop bluffing. I know you’re a vegetarian,” Robecca retorted.
“Hello? I’m a plant,” Venus replied while pulling Robecca away. “Hurry up or we’re going to miss Home Ick.”
“Je ne comprends pas! Why are you always late?” a confused Rochelle asked Robecca.
“Deary me, I’ve thought about it so many times, though I’m still not sure I know the answer. My best guess is that I get so caught up in things that I forget everything else, and then, like a lightning bolt, this feeling hits. And I know I’m late, but I don’t know for what because I haven’t a clue what time it is.”
“But you’re wearing a watch. Several, in fact,” Rochelle countered.
“Yes, but they don’t work. Steam kills watches. I only wear them because I think they’re awfully stylish.”
“Well, at least you have a watch,” Rochelle said, shooting Venus a knowing look.
“Welcome to Home Ick,” Miss Kindergrubber announced impatiently as she looked around the class. “What a sad sight! The lot of you is nothing but skin and bones,” the haggard old witch, garbed in a patchwork dress and worn head scarf, declared. “Well, lucky for you we are making a delicious stew today—one of the world’s most famous Dragonian recipes, Crispy Tongue Soup. And before you ask, no, it does not actually contain a tongue! Oh, hello, Robecca dear.”
“Excuse me, Miss Kindergrubber, but since none of us are dragons, wouldn’t it make more sense to cook something else?” Venus asked with some distaste.
“Excuse me, child, but I never said you had to be a fire-breather to enjoy it! But, of course, this soup is rather irresistible to dragons,” the woman replied curtly while pulling a large pot out from under the counter and opening her enormous leather-bound cookbook.
The process of making Crispy Tongue Soup was actually rather difficult—or at least Miss Kindergrubber made it seem that way, groaning anytime anyone asked a question or mismeasured an ingredient. As Robecca dropped witch hazel into her pot, Cy watched her every move. He was seated directly behind her so that he could see her as clearly as possible; like all Cyclopes, he had trouble with peripheral vision and depth perception.
“You know, my head may be in front of my belly button, but even I can see that you’ve got something for that steamer,” Henry Hunchback teased Cy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cy said dismissively before returning his eye to his bubbling pot. “And don’t call her a steamer; her name is Robecca.”
“I rest my case,” Henry offered with an innocent laugh.
As the end of class neared, Miss Kindergrubber tasted all the students’ work before revealing that Three-Headed Freddie had most successfully executed the recipe. And while no one said it aloud, more than one student thought the boy had an unfair advantage, considering he had two more brains than the average monster.
“I am very impressed, Three-Headed Freddie,” Mis
s Kindergrubber said honestly. “I would serve this to the finest dragons I know.”
“Merci boo-coup, thank you, grazie,” Three-Headed Freddie replied with evident pride.
Upon laying down their ladles, the trio of pumpkin heads promptly began passing out flyers for the Monster Advancement League League while singing indiscreetly and off-key about gossip they heard in the hall. “Frankie Stein thinks MALL is divine. Says Cleo de Nile, the club will make you smile.”
“James?” Rochelle called to the pumpkin head. “What exactly do you do at this club?”
“We prance, we dance, we help monsters advance,” the pumpkin head sang flatly in response.
“Not to be rude, but that is awfully vague. Might you give me a few specifics?”
“If we put monsters first, the world will no longer be cursed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m absolutely dying of thirst.”
“That made no sense,” Venus mumbled to Rochelle. “Well, except the part about being thirsty. I sure could use a good watering about now.”
Later that afternoon, long after school had finished, Rochelle called a most important meeting in their dorm room.
“Je suis tellement excitée,” Rochelle said as Roux played by her feet. “Are you ready?”
“Oh yes! I’m positively pleased as punch not to be missing this unveiling!” Robecca said while holding up a silk scarf linking her right arm to Venus’s left.
“I had a feeling you’d like the leash once you got used to it,” Venus said proudly.
“Absolutely, and so does Penny,” Robecca said, looking down at her cantankerous pet penguin, currently tied to her left boot.
“I really hope you guys like it and, of course, that Monsieur D’eath likes it,” Rochelle said with an excited smile. The young gargoyle then pulled a stringy yellow mess out from behind her back. “Et voilà!”
“Is that a hat?” Venus asked in all seriousness.
“What? No, it’s a suit. Can’t you tell?”
“Well, I can definitely tell that you sewed it yourself,” Venus replied.
“I wanted it to be très monsterfique, something truly special,” Rochelle explained.
“Well, I suppose it depends on your definition of special,” Robecca replied diplomatically.
“Zut! It’s that bad?” Rochelle asked with palpable disappointment.
“It looks like it was shredded by a pack of feral cats,” Venus proclaimed bluntly.
“Venus,” Robecca snapped, “isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“No, she’s right. Every time I touched it, my claws snagged a string, then another and another, and before I knew it, I had wasted twelve yards of fabric creating this!”
“Dear Rochelle, why didn’t you ask us for help?” Robecca asked sweetly.
“Paragraph 3.5 of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics states, ‘Do not ask others to do for you what you can do for yourself.’ ”
“But you can’t do it for yourself. Surely that much is clear,” Venus pointed out. “Seriously, it’s almost tragic what you did to that poor, defenseless piece of cloth!”
Rochelle lowered her head in shame; she couldn’t believe she had actually thought she could pull this off.
“Don’t look so sad. In case you forgot, we go to school with one of the finest seamstresses in Oregon.”
“Venus, I can sew a button or two, but I’m better with rivets,” Robecca replied.
“Not you, Robecca! I’m talking about Frankie Stein. She sews her own body parts together. I’m sure she can handle a suit.”
“Do you think she’d do it?” Rochelle wondered aloud.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Robecca responded with a smile.
“That isn’t technically true. It can, in fact, hurt to ask. I can give you multiple examples if you’d like,” Rochelle clarified.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary. Come on, ghouls, grab your stuff. We have a green monster to find,” Venus announced as she opened the door.
“But school’s already over for the day,” Robecca said.
Venus smiled. “Yes, which is exactly why we’re heading into town.”
As the trio made their way down the dormitory corridor, Rochelle noticed a decline in the quality of the delicate webbed curtain. When she paused to check on the spiders, she noted that at least half of the quarter-sized black creatures had vanished.
“What are you looking at?” Robecca asked Rochelle.
“The spiders. Many of them seem to have disappeared.”
“Maybe they’re on vacation,” Venus interjected quickly—a little too quickly for Rochelle’s liking.
“Have you been letting Chewlian into the hall?” Rochelle inquired accusingly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Venus poorly covered before bolting down the pink staircase.
Upon stepping into the main corridor, Robecca was met by a familiar sight: Cy Clops. She couldn’t help noticing that the boy was absolutely everywhere. Why, she nearly saw him more than Venus and Rochelle, and she lived with them!
As the threesome made their way toward the front entrance, Robecca asked casually, “Have you noticed that boy Cy Clops hanging around a lot?”
“Well, he does live in the dormitory with us,” Venus said with a hint of sarcasm as she pulled open the gargantuan door.
The center of town was a ten-minute walk from Monster High’s campus. The quaint and charming village of Salem had the two things teenagers needed and loved most: a Maul and a Coffin Bean coffee shop that served the yummiest milk shakes!
Rochelle, Venus, and Robecca began their search for Frankie at the Maul, scanning every store they passed for even the faintest hint of green. And although the three friends were highly focused on finding Frankie, they gave themselves a short break to check out the latest fashions in Transylvania’s Secret. Rochelle, who had never been in a Transylvania’s Secret before, was impressed with the cutting-edge fashion and made a mental note to return once the Mr. D’eath mission was complete.
After searching every inch of the Maul—including Beastly’s Bargain Basement, a shop where fashion went to die—they headed over to the Coffin Bean. And before they had even opened the coffee shop’s front doors, they noted the sweet scent of rose perfume. It could mean only one thing—or, rather, one person.
Holding court inside the Gothic-style coffee shop, amid a sea of students, was none other than Miss Flapper. Instantly spotting the threesome, the delicate woman lifted herself off a small, black velvet chair and skipped over to greet them.
“Hello, and welcome to my lair,” Miss Flapper cooed.
“And to think, I thought this was a coffee shop,” Venus joked.
“Oh, it is. But wild dragons live in lairs, so I like to think of every room I’m in as a lair. It’s rather sad how few free-roaming dragons remain in the world, and those that do tend to live in very unmonsterable climates, such as Los Fangeles and Batlanta.”
“It’s true,” Rochelle asserted. “Monsters are predisposed to car sickness and, therefore, not well suited for driving-heavy cities.”
“Have you come to join MALL?” Miss Flapper said as she leaned in to whisper in Robecca’s ear.
“Deary me, I’ve never been very fond of whispering. It tends to tickle my ear. Plus, my father always said that people only whisper what they shouldn’t be saying in the first place,” Robecca said before pulling away, leaving Miss Flapper quite shocked.
“Not that Robecca thinks you’re doing that,” Venus attempted to explain. “Hey, look! There’s Frankie Stein. We should probably go talk to her now, or we’ll miss dinner.”
“Of course, but please don’t forget to join MALL. We need you,” Miss Flapper hissed quietly before staring intently into the eyes of each girl. “I’ve always loved joining clubs—although, in truth, they’re usually book clubs. What exactly does MALL do?” Robecca asked earnestly.
“We help monsters find their rightful place in the normie world,” Miss Flapper stated solemn
ly.
“Please excuse us, madame, but we are on a most important mission,” Rochelle explained, pulling Robecca away.
The trio headed straight for Frankie Stein as Miss Flapper watched their every move.
tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, just behind Three-Headed Freddie, was the delightfully green Frankie Stein. Instead of sporting her usual warm smile, though, the girl appeared quite serious—almost forlorn, even. This marked change in expression did little to ease Rochelle’s nerves about requesting a favor.
“Pardonnez-moi, Frankie. I am most sorry to impose upon your time, especially when you are… uh, actually, what is it exactly that everyone is doing here?”
“We’re soaking up Miss Flapper’s aura, of course,” Frankie said flatly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
“Oh, well, I certainly do not wish to interrupt, but I was wondering if I might ask you something.”
“Miss Flapper says one monster’s question is another monster’s answer,” Frankie stated robotically, as though reciting a line from a script.
“I do not wish to bore you with the intricacies of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics, but we do not believe in asking for favors unless absolutely necessary. Therefore, with that in mind, I present myself today having already attempted and failed at this request with my own two hands,” Rochelle stated seriously, greatly amusing both Venus and Robecca.
“Robecca, take it down a notch,” Venus murmured quietly. “She’s going to think you’re asking for a kidney.”
“But gargoyles do not have kidneys,” Rochelle corrected Venus.
“I think what Venus meant is that this doesn’t have to be such a formal affair,” Robecca said with a giggle.
Rochelle then quickly returned her gaze to the green girl. “Frankie Stein, I shall now get to the point. I need your help sewing something. You see, I have these sharp claws that snag everything I touch. And as you know, it’s awfully arduous to sew without touching the fabric.”
“Miss Flapper says there is no greater mission than helping monsters get ahead, especially in this world that caters so much to normies,” Frankie declared mechanically.
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