Ghoulfriends Forever

  “Ve are not identical, and ve do not take kindly to being mistaken for one another, as ve look very different. As any imbecile can see, Rose’s hair is significantly less shiny than mine,” Blanche said angrily before grabbing the large gold key to her room and storming off with her sister.

  “The Chamber of Vampires and Campfires will be shared by pumpkin heads Marvin, James, and Sam.”

  Three petite creatures with noodle-thin limbs and jack-o’-lanterns for heads bounced up to Mr. D’eath, grabbed their golden key, and broke into song.

  “There once was a woman made out of water, so mean we told her ‘don’t have a daughter,’ ” they sang as their pet bullfrogs chirped loudly, offering the perfect bass accompaniment. It was a rather well-known fact that the amphibians were absolute naturals at maintaining rhythm.

  Pumpkin heads, descendants of the Headless Horseman and therefore very distant cousins of Headmistress Bloodgood, often acted as a Greek chorus, singing about nearly everything they saw or heard.

  “The Chamber of Fangs and Orangutans is assigned to Three-Headed Freddie alone, as we heard his heads like to talk in their sleep,” Mr. D’eath announced as the boy averted his six eyes in embarrassment.

  “The Chamber of Tomb and Gloom is for Cy Clops and Henry Hunchback.”

  The shy yet handsome Cyclops moved to the side as Henry Hunchback, a ginger-haired boy suffering from extreme curvature of the spine, approached Mr. D’eath for the key.

  “Hi, Mr. D., I’m Henry, and I just wanted to say I am super excited to be at Monster High, especially since Coach Igor teaches here. That guy is a legend,” Henry said warmly before Mr. D’eath sighed and looked away.

  “Everyone loves Coach Igor—the Casketball team, the Fearleading squad, and the Skulltimate Roller Maze team. How come no one has such fondness for the guidance counselor?” Mr. D’eath bemoaned sadly.

  “Something must be done,” Rochelle quietly muttered to Roux as she lifted the griffin to see the perpetually gloomy Mr. D’eath.

  “The Chamber of Voltage and Moltage is assigned to Hoodude, who will not have a roommate, as we were told his shrine to Frankie Stein is rather elaborate.”

  Hoodude, a human-sized voodoo doll with blue hair, button eyes, and a variety of needles jutting out of his cloth body, was absolutely infatuated with fellow student Frankie Stein. She had, after all, created him in her father’s laboratory.

  “Thank you, Mr. D’eath,” Hoodude said sweetly before puttering down the boys’ corridor.

  “And finally, in the Chamber of Gore and Lore, we have Venus McFlytrap, Robecca Steam, and Rochelle Goyle.”

  While looking around for signs of her roommates, Rochelle’s glance landed on an interesting-looking girl with green skin and a half-shaved head. The girl cocked her head to the side and grinned as the vines that coiled around her wrists lightly fluttered their leaves.

  Rochelle certainly wasn’t in Scaris anymore!

  gillary Clinton is my idol,” the brightly dressed girl with punk style and elaborate vine bracelets expounded after opening the door to the Chamber of Gore and Lore, with Rochelle trailing behind her. “Did you know she once endured a weeklong hunger strike to protest the dumping of toxic chemicals in the ocean?”

  Hanging on the far wall was a portrait of the current International Monster Federation president, Gillary Clinton. As the head of the monster world’s governing body, she was heralded by some and demonized by others.

  “Fish can easily go without food for a week. Not that it makes Gillary Clinton’s act any less commendable. I only mention it because, as a gargoyle, I have a duty to share all pertinent information,” Rochelle explained awkwardly before offering her hand to shake. “I’m Rochelle Goyle, by the way.”

  “The name’s Venus McFlytrap, and this is my pet plant, Chewlian,” the other girl announced, and flipped her long hot-pink and green striped hair over one shoulder. “I came a little early to settle him into the room. You know plants—they can’t stand change,” Venus continued while rubbing the pink stubble on the shaved side of her head.

  “I must say, he has very good dental hygiene,” Rochelle commented, looking at the plant’s extremely white teeth and bright green gums.

  “Yeah, he’s pretty spooktacular,” Venus said before blowing a pollen kiss—a small puff of orange dust—toward her pet plant.

  “Pardonnez-moi, this is Roux, my pet griffin.”

  Roux, wings and tail wagging happily, pranced over to Chewlian to say hello. Unfortunately, as soon as the small gray animal was within an inch of the plant, Chewlian bit her nose. And not just the tip of the nose: The plant managed to get nearly the entire snout.

  “No, Chewy!” Venus scolded. “Sorry about that—he’s in a biting stage. His eyesight isn’t very good, so he has trouble distinguishing friends from feasts. Is Roux okay?”

  Rochelle noted the plant’s mischievous and slightly dim-witted grin before checking on the perpetually happy Roux. “Oh yes, she’s fine. She’s made of granite, so she’s rather hard to take a bite out of.”

  “He really is such a sweetie when you get to know him, but I’d watch your fingers near his leaves,” Venus said before glancing around the room. “Look at this place. Do you believe your eyes? I’m horrified!”

  Rochelle looked carefully around the small but cozy space, scanning for possible safety violations, but came up empty. Between the finely sanded limestone walls were three pristinely made beds, two medium-sized windows, a wardrobe, and one large, squishy armchair. Much like a sea anemone, the overstuffed piece of furniture looked primed to swallow anything within reach. Covered in mummy gauze and finely woven molted werewolf fur, neither chair nor bedspreads proved horrifying, leaving Rochelle at a loss. “Are you upset they didn’t use higher-quality fabrics? You must remember, this is a school, not a five-skull hotel,” she explained earnestly.

  “Hello? I’m talking about the non-ecofriendly lightbulbs and the lack of a recycling bin. Honestly, this is just plain reckless!” Venus declared as she stomped her pink ankle boot.

  Venus McFlytrap was the daughter of the plant monster, and she had inherited a bit of his temper, especially where environmental protection was concerned. And while she tried to control her pollens of persuasion, sometimes it just wasn’t possible. Extreme anger or frustration often resulted in pollen-filled sneezes that swayed all in her path to wholeheartedly agree with anything Venus said. Depending on the intensity of the sneeze, the pollen’s effect could last anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours. Most egregious, Venus’s bright orange pollen was notoriously difficult to get out of clothing.

  Just as Rochelle prepared to correct Venus’s assessment of the situation as reckless, the door flew open, banging loudly against the limestone wall.

  “Heavens to Betsy,” a dewy-faced girl covered in rivets and metal plates exclaimed animatedly. “This school is absolutely batty, and I say that in all seriousness, as I just saw a bat in the hallway, but also because it’s enormous. I was so lost and frustrated that I started to steam up, making my hair go absolutely bananas. And while bananas may be good for cereal, they’re not good for a ghoul’s hair!”

  The girl, seemingly crafted out of a steam engine, played with her long blue hair while blushing under Rochelle’s and Venus’s gazes.

  “Robecca Steam?” Venus guessed with a smirk.

  “Oh dear, it must seem like my brain is rusted! I can’t believe I just flung open the door without even mentioning my name! Yes, I am Robecca Steam! Deary me, I haven’t been this nervous since I performed my first aerial stunt in front of Father. That was, of course, centuries ago, before I was dismantled; I am absolutely thrilled to be reassembled!” Robecca said as steam exited her ears.

  Whenever she was angry or nervous, steam puffed out of Robecca’s ears and nose. And while she didn’t much care for the vapors, those around her absolutely detested them. Steam outbursts had been known to unpleat many a skirt and to frizz many a monster’s fur. However, it must be noted
that the steam was not entirely a nuisance, for it resulted in a natural facial—hence Robecca’s permanently dewy complexion.

  “Bonjour, Robecca. I am Rochelle, and I am very pleased to meet you.”

  “A Scarisian accent! Well, isn’t that just the cat’s pajamas!”

  “Do cats wear pajamas in this country?” Rochelle inquired seriously.

  “Dear me!” Robecca roared with laughter. “Wouldn’t that be swell? Cats in pajamas!”

  The sound of rustling leaves drew Robecca’s attention to the pretty green-skinned girl standing next to her.

  “Hey, the name’s Venus.”

  “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be sharing a room with you guys. This is exactly why I decided to move out of Miss Kindergrubber’s house. I knew dorm life would be the absolute bee’s knees. Just think of all the fun we’re going to have, staying up late talking—”

  “I feel I should mention that I adhere to a very strict bedtime,” Rochelle interrupted.

  “I’m guessing we should probably start getting ready or we’ll be late for the assembly,” Venus added as she pried a pen from Chewlian’s mouth.

  “Late! Oh, how I wish that word didn’t even exist! You see, I’m a bit hopeless with the time, since my internal clock is off. But I promised myself I’d try harder once I got to school. It’s becoming such an awful pain for Penny, my mechanical pet penguin. I’m often so frantic about the time that I leave her places…. As a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure where she is right now. I do hope I didn’t leave her at the Maul—or, worse, in the bathroom at the Maul. Penny’s pretty squeamish about public restrooms. Not that I blame her—most are desperately in need of a good steam cleaning,” Robecca rambled before taking a seat in the armchair and dabbing the residual steam from her forehead.

  So earnest was Robecca about her deficiency that her new roommates trusted her to watch the time, quite literally. She was seated directly in front of the clock and told to call out five minutes before they were to leave.

  “I think I just spotted the perfect place for my compost pile,” Venus gushed while peering out the window.

  “Paragraph 1.7 of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics states that it is my duty to inform someone who is in danger. Venus, compost piles are breeding grounds for bacteria. As a matter of fact, scientists believe they’re responsible for last year’s Rotten Food Flu epidemic in eastern Mongolia.”

  “You know what else is a breeding ground for bacteria? Nuclear weapons. So, why don’t you focus on those and leave my compost heap alone!” Venus retorted with obvious annoyance.

  “Venus, s’il ghoul plaît, let me explain. I really do wish you luck with your compost pile. It’s just that as a gargoyle, I have a duty to warn those around me of possible danger and to correct those disseminating inaccurate information. Therefore, I would like to point out that nuclear power plants do not breed bacteria. While they can eradicate man- and monsterkind in minutes, they are a highly unlikely source of germs.”

  “It’s ghoul, I get it, you’re just trying to help,” Venus said genuinely; her temper was both quick to flare and quick to subside.

  Rochelle smiled as she joined Venus at the window.

  “Look at all these pine trees. Don’t you just love fresh oxygen?”

  “Is there such a thing as fresh oxygen? Isn’t all oxygen fresh? Although oxygen can be stored in tanks, and I suppose one wouldn’t call that fresh,” Rochelle pondered quietly.

  “You really like to correct people, don’t you?” Venus asked with a slight hint of irritation.

  “What can I say? I’m a gargoyle,” Rochelle replied while absentmindedly tapping a nearby ceramic vase with one of her hard gray fingers. “We very much value accuracy.”

  Tapping was one of Rochelle’s most problematic little idiosyncrasies. While thinking or talking, and occasionally even sleeping, she reflexively tapped her fingers. As one might expect, sturdy surfaces such as marble, wood, and metal weathered her weighty digits without problem; fragile items such as ceramic vases, however, were not so lucky.

  “Zut! Boo la la!” Rochelle exclaimed as the vase crumbled into a mess of ceramic shards and water.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Venus responded casually. “There’s nothing more depressing than freshly cut flowers; it’s like an open casket at a funeral. They might look alive, but they’re dead.”

  Like the onset of the Rotten Food Flu, Robecca’s recollection of the time was instant, horrifically uncomfortable, and even a smidge embarrassing.

  “How in the name of the flea’s sneeze did I do it again?” Robecca hollered with steam exploding from both her ears.

  Somehow, while Robecca was anchored in front of the clock, her eyes had wandered down to her rocket boots and she’d begun oiling them, having completely forgotten about the time.

  “Remember how I said I would tell you five minutes before we had to leave? Well, that was ten minutes ago!” Robecca babbled frantically. “Come on! There’s not a second to waste!”

  “Must we run?” Rochelle asked, traipsing sluggishly after Robecca and Venus.

  While gargoyles moved with exceptional speed when flying, they were rather slow on their feet. Stone legs simply were not designed for speed; in actuality, they weren’t designed for anything other than standing still.

  “Deary me, I’m so sorry, ghouls! I really thought I could do it this time. But clearly I was wrong. My tardiness is contagious!” Robecca rambled as she led the way down the pink staircase.

  “Seriously, Robecca, it’s not a big deal. So we’re late for an assembly? Like I always say, don’t sweat the small stuff,” Venus declared in a terribly West Coast, laid-back manner.

  “Is that your way of telling me I look sweaty, or rather steamy? Oh dear! I feel all rusty just thinking about what an awful first impression I’m going to make!”

  as the eldest and only girl in her parents’ garden of monsters, Venus not only was used to being in charge but expected it.

  “You guys, stop running! We need to calm down; we’re lost in a school, not eastern Siberia. I’m sure if we take a minute to look around, we’ll find a map or directory or something to tell us how to get to the Vampitheater,” Venus explained rationally.

  Frazzled and weary, Robecca and Rochelle nodded their heads before making their way toward an adjoining corridor. Venus, for her part, was momentarily distracted by a headstone warning that the befriending of bats was strictly forbidden because it had been known to breed unbridled jealousy within the local chiropteran community. This phenomenon surprised Venus, as she had always considered bats socially mature, at least in comparison to teenage monsters.

  “These big, empty hallways sure do give me the heebie-jeebies,” Robecca muttered to Rochelle. “Where is everybody?”

  “I’m sorry, but I do not follow. What are the heebie-jeebies?”

  “You know, like when the rivets on the back of your neck pop out?” Robecca explained.

  “That sounds like being electrocuted, which is a terribly serious matter.”

  “Guys?” Venus called out, having noted the sudden arrival of a repugnant smell.

  In all her years, Venus had never come across such an odious smell—a combination of dampness, pickled cabbage, and day-old liver. So ripe was the scent that she could actually feel fur growing inside her nostrils. And as if the smell were not odd enough, there was now a faint scratching sound, like that of twigs on cement, coming from behind them.

  “Robecca? Rochelle?” Venus called out again, louder this time.

  Upon hearing their names, the girls immediately turned around, only to gasp, gulp, and groan at what they saw.

  “What in the name of the foul owl is that?” Robecca shrieked before dramatically covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Quelle horreur!” Rochelle squealed loudly, her face distorted with revulsion.

  A rush of adrenaline filled Venus, spurring every nerve in her body to tingle as she turned to face the great unknown. Standing
before her was a morbidly obese troll with leathery skin, infected acne, and long, oily locks covered in mites. As Venus valiantly suppressed the urge to be sick, the lumpy-bodied beast growled and bared his jagged, sludge-covered teeth.

  “Think, Venus,” she muttered to herself. “What would Dr. Ghoulittle do?”

  “Who Dr. Houlittle?” the troll grunted in broken English, masses of spittle spewing from both sides of his mouth.

  “Um, he’s a ghoul who’s really good with animals,” Venus explained awkwardly. “Maybe you’ve read his books, although I somehow kind of doubt it.”

  “What you do in hall?” the troll snapped aggressively before again baring his nasty little teeth.

  “It’s our first day here, and we’re lost,” Venus explained sensibly.

  “Might you be able to direct us to the Vampitheater?” Rochelle interjected nicely.

  After a few seconds of intent staring, the troll lifted his hand, showcasing his long and weathered nails, and pointed down the hallway.

  “Vampitheater there,” the troll barked as a trail of dribble slowly ran across his uneven chin.

  “Thanks, you’ve been really helpful. Well, except for the part where you snarled at me,” Venus replied matter-of-factly.

  “Next time you late, I eat you,” the troll grunted before breaking into a spine-chilling smile.

  “Okay, great. That sounds like a plan,” Venus said, pulling the other girls away from the troll.

  “Am I correct in understanding that he threatened to eat us?” Rochelle asked incredulously.

  “Yes, he did, but I wouldn’t worry. His mouth didn’t look that big. I doubt he could fit more than a hand in it. And lucky for us, we have two of those,” Venus replied candidly.

  “Heavens to Betsy, being eaten by a troll, or even just nibbled on by one, sounds downright horrendous!” cried Robecca.

  “Hey, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s late,” a well-dressed boy in a plaid cardigan said before holding open the Vampitheater door for the girls.