Ghoulfriends Just Want to Have Fun

  “You will,” Venus said as she wrapped her vine-covered arm around her friend.

  “Qu’est-que c’est?” Rochelle blurted out. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt the scarepy session, but I just found something….”

  “Another key?” Venus inquired.

  “No, a doll,” Rochelle said as she lifted a twelve-inch wooden doll from the dirt.

  After delicately brushing away the soil, the three examined the coarsely carved statue that had large black eyes and a severe frown.

  “I know it’s been a while since I last played with dolls, but isn’t this one scary-looking?” Venus muttered while inspecting the figurine carefully.

  “Oh it’s awful! It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies just looking at it,” Robecca muttered nervously.

  “Where’s Mr. Mummy? I’m most curious to hear what he’ll make of it,” Rochelle asked, clearly intrigued by her find.

  you are a blessed trio of ghouls to find such an artifact so early on in your archaeological careers,” Mr. Mummy said with a slight hint of envy. “It took me years to find anything of such importance. Actually, if I remember correctly, my first seven months I fished out nothing but keys….”

  “Don’t feel bad. We found a lot of those as well,” Venus added reassuringly. “So, what is it?”

  “A doll of doom,” Mr. Mummy declared as he looked closely at the crudely carved item. “Dolls like this were historically given out by soothsayers as a warning that bad luck was fast approaching.”

  “Great, just what we need, more signs of bad luck heading our way,” Venus mumbled sarcastically.

  “Mr. Mummy, my ghoulfriends are extremely superstitious, as I’ve come to realize most monsters are,” Rochelle said, looking her teacher directly in the eye.

  “You needn’t worry, ghouls. White cats, white bats, dolls of doom, and even soothsayers cannot predict the future. And remember, knowledge is the cure for every curse,” Mr. Mummy pontificated as though lecturing to an entire classroom of students.

  “Thank you for your sage words, Mr. Mummy,” Rochelle replied, pleased to have another logical mind in their midst.

  “What should we do with it? Put it in the artifacts closet? Rebury it?” Robecca asked unsteadily, still frightened by the strange-looking doll.

  “Mr. Mummy, I know this is a bit unorthodox, but would it be possible for me to keep it as a souvenir?” Rochelle inquired.

  “I don’t see why not. I already have several,” Mr. Mummy replied as Venus and Robecca swallowed audibly, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect of Rochelle bringing the black-eyed figure back to their room.

  Salem’s Die-ner had become a popular hangout after school, almost as much as the Coffin Bean, especially for those living on campus. After all, there was only so much Creepateria food one could manage. Seated in a round booth with pink tufted cushions, Robecca, Rochelle, Venus, and Cy Clops sipped Croak-a-Cola out of black cups with bat wings for handles. Propped up conspicuously in the center of the table was the sinister-looking doll of doom.

  “I realize that as a Cyclops I should be sensitive to those with ocular issues, but this doll’s eyes are just plain creepy,” Cy said as he pushed his half-empty plate of Crunch Cries to the side.

  “I don’t care what you say, Rochelle. That thing is not coming back to our room,” Venus asserted firmly.

  “You’re acting completely ridiculous. It’s just a doll, an inanimate object,” Rochelle said, shaking her head incredulously at her friend.

  Just then Cy reached for his Croak-a-Cola, but as he suffered from dreadful depth perception, he accidentally knocked over the doll in the process.

  “Sorry, ghouls,” Cy mumbled quietly.

  “Don’t worry,” Robecca reassured him, putting her copper-colored hand on his arm, much to the boy’s delight.

  “Zut! I think it’s cracked,” Rochelle said as she picked up the doll. “Or is it?”

  Rochelle then twisted open the figurine, exposing a small spiderweb-filled space, inside of which was a worn yellow scroll.

  “What does it say?” Cy asked anxiously as Rochelle unrolled the parchment paper.

  “ ‘You think you can trust them, but you can’t,’” Venus read over Rochelle’s shoulder.

  “What does that mean?” Robecca asked.

  “I don’t know,” Venus said as she took the paper from Rochelle and lifted it to her nose. “It smells sweet, like roses and lilacs….”

  “May I?” Rochelle said as she pressed the parchment against her small gray nose. “It’s so familiar. It must be similar to what my grand-mère wears.”

  “My bearings might be rusted, but it kind of reminds me of Miss Flapper,” Robecca murmured reticently.

  “Yeah, it does,” Venus reluctantly agreed, her brow furrowed in concern.

  “Perhaps I’m overreacting, but I think this warrants a trip to Monsieur Mummy,” Rochelle pensively informed her friends.

  On the way out of the Die-ner, they spotted Frankie and Draculaura at the counter, seated side by side on spiderweb-themed stools, sharing an iron shake.

  “Honestly, D, I have no idea how you drink so much of this stuff,” Frankie said as she dabbed the corners of her green mouth. “Hey, ghouls! Hey, Cy!”

  “Frankie, Draculaura, we do not wish to interrupt your beverage intake. We just wanted to say boo-jour to our fellow Frightingales before we left to find Monsieur Mummy,” Rochelle said courteously, with the doll of doom tucked beneath her arm.

  “Frightingales forever!” Frankie said with a wink. “We were just talking about what we’re going to do for the Hex Factor Talon Show. Can you believe it’s only a couple of weeks away? Have you ghouls decided what you’re doing?” Frankie asked the trio.

  “Um, not yet,” Robecca replied, embarrassed that they had yet to even think about the Hex Factor.

  “Oh, and if you’re looking for Mr. Mummy, you might want to try the Coffin Bean. I heard he’s organized some kind of teachers’ support group with Ms. Kindergrubber, Dr. Clamdestine, and even Mr. Hack. Apparently, they think teaching teenage monsters is super tough, but I’m like, hello, it’s nowhere near as tough as being a teenage monster,” Draculaura joked, breaking into a fang-filled smile.

  Following a short walk to the Coffin Bean, Robecca, Rochelle, Venus, and Cy found that Draculaura was indeed correct: The teachers were holding a support group, or more aptly, a complaining session.

  “None of them appreciates the art of cooking. That’s why I want a citywide ban on all take-away food and microwavable meals. Then they’ll have to learn to cook,” Ms. Kindergrubber ranted, before being interrupted by Mr. Hack.

  “That’s nothing! I’ve got kids asking to borrow my mask all day long; they want to use it to scare their friends,” Mr. Hack huffed.

  Unsure of whether they should interrupt the meeting or wait, Rochelle ultimately made the call, remembering that the Gargoyle Code of Ethics states it’s always better to voice concerns sooner rather than later.

  “Gee whiz, we hate to interrupt you when you’re chatting and drinking an iced blended, but could we speak to you for a quick second, Mr. Mummy?” Robecca asked politely.

  “Of course,” the gauze-covered teacher stated as he rose from the table.

  “We normally wouldn’t bother you after school hours, but we found this note hidden inside the doll of doom. And it smells faintly of Miss Flapper’s perfume,” Venus explained.

  Mr. Mummy took a quick glance at the parchment paper, lifted it to his nose, and then instantly shook his head.

  “Ghouls, it smells like flowers. That could be anyone’s perfume. Plus, it’s probably been there for more than a century. Trust me, whoever it’s warning us about is long gone,” Mr. Mummy said, before handing back the paper and exiting the Coffin Bean with the rest of the teachers.

  “For the last time, we are not having an Egyptian theme,” Toralei screeched loudly, garnering the attention of everyone in the coffee shop.

  “Fine, but we’re not hav
ing a striped-cat theme either!” Cleo shot back furiously.

  Standing a few feet away was the continuously warring duo of Toralei and Cleo, both holding iced blendeds in their hands. However, the beverages were not simply resting in their fingers but were aimed at each other like weapons.

  “Babe, I want you to put down the iced blended,” Deuce instructed Cleo. “You’re wearing your favorite gold-gauze jumpsuit. You wouldn’t want to mess that up now, would you?”

  “I would rather ruin every outfit in my tomb than agree to a cat-themed Hex Factor.”

  “Cleo, don’t talk like that. It really scares me,” Deuce mumbled as he gave Clawdeen a worried look.

  “Toralei? Cleo? What if you both lower your drinks at the same time?” Clawdeen suggested as she played with the tips of her finely groomed hair. “Then we’ll sit down and find some kind of compromise. Maybe an Egyptian cat–themed show or perhaps nothing to do with Egypt or cats at all.”

  “Forget it, Clawdeen. It’s never going to happen. We’re only two weeks away, so we’re doing it my way, which is of course the best way,” Toralei stated as she raised her iced blended ever so slightly, prompting Cleo to do the same.

  As the tension grew, every eye in the Coffin Bean locked on Toralei and Cleo. No one moved; no one spoke; they simply watched the school’s biggest egomaniacs fight for control.

  Having failed to get through to either Toralei or Cleo, Deuce and Clawdeen backed away, eager to escape the line of fire. However, as the two retreated, Jinafire approached. After hearing the commotion, the Fanghai dragon simply could not hold her tongue, or her fire, any longer.

  “Excuse me, ghouls, I could not help but overhear your dilemma. I believe an old Fanghai proverb might be of some assistance here,” Jinafire interjected. “ ‘If you fight your foes with an open heart, you might soon call them friends.’ ”

  “Where’s that from? A fortune cookie?” Toralei quipped rudely.

  “More like a book on useless sayings,” Cleo huffed, all the while keeping her eyes trained on Toralei.

  “You are both very disrespectful and very immature,” Jinafire responded, before setting Cleo and Toralei’s iced blendeds ablaze, forcing the ghouls to drop them instantly.

  “Ahhh! What is wrong with you?” Cleo blustered, unnerved from the sudden and entirely unexpected burst of fire.

  “Seriously, are you crazy?” Toralei snapped at Jinafire. “Oh, and you can forget being asked to join the Frightingale Society, because trust me, it will never happen. And I do mean never.”

  “ ‘Do not mess with a dragon unless you are prepared to get burned,’ ” Jinafire replied in an eerily calm manner.

  “Talk about giving dragons a bad name,” Toralei hissed.

  “I do not give dragons a bad name. It is your behavior that gives monsters a bad name,” Jinafire replied. “And I will have you know that only last night Miss Flapper told me what an asset I am, not only to the dragon community but to Monster High.”

  “Whether it’s an actual spell or just some serious buttering up, Miss Flapper is definitely doing something to Skelita and Jinafire. And as usual, we haven’t a clue why,” Venus whispered to Robecca and Rochelle.

  “Pardonnez-moi, Venus, just one second,” Rochelle said, before waving Jinafire over and addressing the dragon. “While I commend your direct approach to problem solving, I must remind you that using fire indoors is very dangerous.”

  “I thank you for your advice, but you should know that Miss Flapper has given me the authority to use my fire as I deem necessary,” Jinafire answered confidently.

  The young dragon then nodded her head, smiled, and walked away.

  “She’s either suffering an inflated ego from all of Miss Flapper’s flattery—”

  “Or she’s under the older dragon’s control?” Rochelle interrupted Venus. “Although, if Miss Flapper is controlling the ghoul, it’s not with a whisper. Jinafire isn’t acting like the others did last semester.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll just add this to the list of things we need to figure out,” Venus moaned, rife with frustration.

  Meanwhile, with pools of iced blended at their feet, Cleo and Toralei continued staring venomously at each other.

  “Frost my firebox, what a terrible mess! Who knew it was even possible to burn an iced blended?” Robecca blathered to Cleo and Toralei with Cy hanging right behind her. “I’d be happy to help my fellow Frightingales clean up—not that either of you have been particularly welcoming, but there’s always next time.”

  “I can help too,” Cy offered kindly, before both Cleo and Toralei turned and stalked away without so much as uttering a word.

  “Or we can do it all ourselves,” Robecca joked to Cy. “Not to worry, steam cleaning is my specialty.”

  later that night, while tucked comfortably in bed, Robecca, Rochelle, and Venus all found their minds wandering back to the same thing: the note inside the doll of doom. Was Mr. Mummy right? Was it merely an old relic? Or was there more to it? Was the faint scent of perfume something to be inspected?

  Hours later, Rochelle’s mind stirred, though the young ghoul was certain she was dreaming. There was simply no other explanation for the tightness she felt around her body; it was as though she were in a cocoon. Unable to move and surrounded by complete and utter whiteness, the gargoyle repeatedly told herself to wake up. Wake up this instant! But nothing happened. Irritated by her inability to stir from the dream, the grumpy gargoyle groused loudly.

  “What in the name of the snail’s tail has happened to our friend? She’s been mummified!” Robecca squealed in her groggy morning voice.

  “Boo-la-la! What is happening?” Rochelle called out in bewilderment.

  “Hold on, Ro! I’m coming in!” Venus instructed her friend.

  A sudden burst of green broke through the white wall, rescuing Rochelle from the colorless monotony. After a few seconds of pulling and pushing, Rochelle was freed from what she could now see was an elaborate spiderweb cocoon.

  “I’m thinking maybe it’s time to let Chewy into the hall again. Obviously, the spider population could use some controlled eatings,” Venus said, before winking at her naughty, shortsighted pet plant.

  “I’m surprised the bats haven’t eaten the spiders,” Robecca wondered aloud. “Unless, of course, they’ve lost the taste for them. That’s what happened to me with screamed scorn. After eating it every day for a month, I suddenly stopped liking it.”

  “Boo-la-la. The stitching is simply fangtastique,” Rochelle said, completely ignoring Robecca as she picked up a swath of the webbing and wrapped it around her neck like a scarf. “It’s very chic, n’estce pas?”

  So elaborate and extensive was the cocoon that hours later, while seated in Ms. Kindergrubber’s Home Ick class, Rochelle was still pulling silky spider strands from her hair.

  “Don’t worry about the spider threads. They actually look super neat, sort of like tinsel on a normie Christmas tree. Hey, maybe that’s what you should do for the Hex Factor! Dress up like a normie Christmas tree,” Robecca jested while mixing together a batch of Thousand Eyelid Dressing.

  “I do not find it complimentary to be compared to a normie Christmas tree,” Rochelle replied as she continued to search for stray strands.

  “I’m giving Howleen Wolf a Skultimate Roller Maze lesson later, if you want to tag along. After a few spirited spins around the place, every strand will have been blown off,” Robecca offered with a smile.

  “By the way, how are your lessons going?” Venus asked. “Draculaura mentioned that she hasn’t received one complaint about you being late. I’m seriously impressed.”

  “Uh, um…” Robecca stammered.

  “There is no need to stutter, Robecca. There is absolutely no shame in admitting that Cy has been escorting you to your lessons,” Rochelle stated directly.

  “Deary me! I didn’t think you knew. I know it’s silly, but I was trying to impress you ghouls, to show you that when I put my mind to it, I can ar
rive on time,” Robecca admitted guiltily.

  “You were trying to impress us? We’re your ghoulfriends. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with having an off internal clock,” Venus explained, before raising her eyebrows. “I actually think freaky flaws kind of rule. Unless, of course, yours happens to be a desire to control the school and possibly destroy an entire crop of free-thinking young creatures.”

  “The desire to control or manipulate others is not a freaky flaw; it’s a personality disorder,” Rochelle clarified as Hoodude dashed frantically into the room, arms waving wildly in the air.

  “Get back, Frankie! I’ll protect you!” Hoodude shouted loudly, before throwing his body on top of the pretty green ghoul, who was seated nearby.

  “Hoodude! What are you doing?” Frankie asked, stifling laughter.

  However, before Hoodude could even respond, Lagoona answered Frankie’s question.

  “Bad luck just arrived on our doorstep. And it’s looking mighty fluffy,” the Mosstrailian sea creature announced while apprehensively eyeing a puffy white cat that trailed Hoodude.

  “Meow,” the furry creature with unusually large ears, supremely long whiskers, and a bubble-gum-pink nose cried.

  “Is this on the record? Because I may quote you on my blog,” Spectra Vondergeist, a purple-haired ghost, inquired, her chains rattling softly.

  “Meow!” The kitten squealed again before stopping to lick its paw.

  “Is that all it can say? Because meow isn’t much of a scoop,” Spectra mumbled, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the small white creature.

  “Students! We must stay calm!” Ms. Kinder-grubber announced fearfully, as though she had just seen the arrival of the plague.

  “Let’s call in the Nami!” Hoodude hollered, still lying on top of Frankie.

  “Look, I’m as superstitious as the next monster, but I’m pretty sure this is the work of Henry Hunch-back. He pulled the same thing in the Creepateria the other day,” Frankie reassured the class while futilely attempting to push Hoodude off her lap.