Monster High: Who's That Ghoulfriend? (Monster High: Ghoulfriends Forever) (4 page)

“I’m sure glad they weren’t up all night
worrying about us,” Venus remarked playfully at the sight of Cy and Robecca slouched over, fast asleep, halfway down the stairs.

“If it makes you feel better, I doubt they’re well rested. You soft-bodied monsters lack the durability to sleep soundly on stone,” Rochelle explained, bending down to tap Robecca on the shoulder.

“What time is it? What time is it?” Robecca rambled, still half asleep. “Where’s Penny? What is this place? Have I been sleepwalking again?”

“We’re in the stairwell to the attic. We came here late last night to see the spider ghoul,” Cy reminded Robecca as he wiped the sleep from his eye.

“Oh yes, that’s right; we found out her name is Wydowna and that she’s serving someone,” Robecca said with a knowing look, before turning
toward Rochelle and Venus. “Sorry we nodded off. Are you okay? You both look seriously tired. I’m guessing that means you weren’t able to grab any shut-eye while hiding in the attic.”

“Not a wink,” Venus responded gruffly.

“Technically speaking, that is not accurate. We did in fact experience quite a few winks, however, we were awake for them,” Rochelle clarified before raising one eyebrow. “Like all gargoyles, I yearn for the day that misleading colloquialisms are outlawed.”

“But what about free speech?” Robecca asked.

“What about it? There’s nothing free about confusing and occasionally even deceptive sayings,” Rochelle retorted.

“Ghouls, I’m sorry, but the free-speech discussion is going to have to wait. We need to
head over to the main corridor and see what’s happening,” Venus asserted as she started down the stone steps.

The purple checkered floor and pink coffin-shaped lockers in the main hall were barely visible because of the dense crowd of monsters crammed into the space. Parents, teachers, and students swarmed an unidentified man and woman, above whom a sea of bats slept peacefully in the rafters, blissfully unaware of the pandemonium below.

“I think it’s
trés
important that we identify the people at the center of this commotion
tout de suite
,” Rochelle stated, turning toward Venus. “So in the name of efficiency, please use your innate pushiness to get us to the front of the crowd.”

“Excuse me, but I am not pushy,” Venus clarified.

“
Boo-la-la
, Venus,
ce n’est pas un secret
. Everyone knows that you’re pushy. There’s no point denying it.”

“Sorry, Rochelle, but you’re wrong about this one. Right, Becs?” Venus implored her copper-plated friend.

“Talk about being stuck between a plant and a hard place,” Robecca prattled, her eyes flitting back and forth between her two ghoulfriends.

“May I remind you that paragraph 12.3 of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics states that true friendship requires honesty?”

“Venus is pushy,” Robecca muttered quickly, her eyes trained on the floor.

“You ghouls are just overly sensitive. Cy knows—” Venus said, turning toward the quiet one-eyed boy.

“You’re pushy,” Cy interrupted, eager to bring the debate to an end. “And I hope you can forgive me for saying as much.”

“Yes, me too, Venus. You know how much I adore you—all of you, even your pushiness,” Rochelle added.

“Fine, but for future reference I prefer the term
assertive
,” Venus remarked as she forcibly inserted herself into the crowd.

The assembled group of concerned parents, unnerved teachers, and confused students emitted a collective air of hysteria. Furrowed brows, sweaty palms, and chattering fangs swept through the crowd as everyone struggled to come to terms with a missing headmistress and a potential normie threat.

“Move it, please,” Venus said as she pushed
past a monster drinking a Croak-a-Cola. “It’s kind of early for soda, isn’t it? Oh, and don’t forget to recycle the can when you’re done.”

“I think
excuse me
is a more appropriate phrase than
move it
,
n’est-ce pas
?” Rochelle whispered to Cy and Robecca.

“I wouldn’t say anything if I were you. You know how grumpy plants are when they haven’t slept,” Cy advised Rochelle as they came to the center of the crowd.

A row of filthy-faced trolls, each greasier and more unattractive than the next, stood guard over a zombie and a mummy, both of whom had their backs pressed against the wall.

“I recognize them from the local paper. The zombie’s Scariff Fred Onarrival and the mummy is Skultastic Superintendent Petra Fied,”
Rochelle leaned in and whispered to the others.

Scariff Fred was a stout zombie with an ample belly, bloodshot eyes, and a receding hairline. While by no means attractive, the scariff exuded an air of power and control. As did the tall and stern-looking mummy standing next to him, Superintendent Petra.

“Excuse me, may we have your attention?” Scariff Fred said, speaking into a special bullhorn that translated Zombese into English.

The trolls standing before the scariff and superintendent then stepped threateningly toward the crowd.

“You listen now! No talk! Only listen!” the trolls screamed while wagging their dirty sausage-shaped fingers at the mass of students, parents, and teachers.

“
Quelle horreur
,” Rochelle lamented at the sight of the stout beasts’ filthy hands. “I will never understand why hygiene remains such a foreign concept to them.”

“Thank you, trolls, that’s quite enough,” Scariff Fred said as he looked out at the sea of concerned faces. “Superintendent Petra and I would like you all to know that we’re doing everything in our power to keep the students safe and bring Headmistress Bloodgood home. And while these bullies, the normies, may think they can intimidate us into walling ourselves off—they’re wrong, dead wrong.”

Venus’s vines quivered, Robecca’s rivets rattled, and Rochelle’s claws rapped as they reflected on the scariff’s unsettling comments. They simply could not understand why everyone so
easily accepted the letter at face value. Surely the scariff knew that dubious forces often used forgery as a means of getting what they wanted.

“Excuse me, scariff?” Venus blurted out, suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to question his belief in the normie story.

“
Boo alors
, what are you doing, Venus?”

“It’s not too late; just ask for the time,” Robecca advised, small balls of steam exiting her ears. “That’s what I do, but then again I never know the time.”

“Yes, ghoul?” the scariff responded, looking directly at Venus.

“How do you know it was really the normies who took Headmistress Bloodgood? After all, any monster could have written that letter,” Venus pointed out logically.

“Children should not question their elders unless specifically instructed to do so,” Super-intendent Petra grumbled, with all but her lips remaining eerily still.

The lack of movement and wrinkles on the superintendent’s face was the result of the latest dermatological fad sweeping through the monster world—Crowtox. The serum created from the sweat of crows was used by many a monster in an attempt to slow the aging process.

“It’s all right, Petra,” the scariff replied before turning toward Venus and assuming a decidedly patronizing tone. “You may not know this, seeing as you’re awfully young, but over the centuries normies and monsters have experienced periods of friendship, periods of fear, and periods of peaceful coexistence. So the fact that we find ourselves
once again in a period of fear is hardly surprising.”

“Yeah, but…” Venus started to refute Scariff Fred’s explanation when she noticed Miss Sue Nami discreetly motioning for her to stop.

As the school’s Deputy of Disaster, Miss Sue Nami was Headmistress Bloodgood’s second in command. But, more important to Venus, she had long maintained her own doubts about Miss Flapper.

“But what?” Scariff Fred pressed Venus to finish her thought.

“But nothing. You’re absolutely right: The normies are obviously behind this,” Venus replied unconvincingly.

“Thank you, ghoul,” Scariff Fred said with visible delight, and then turned to the superintendent. “Would you care to add anything, Petra?”

After offering the scariff an affirmative nod, Petra turned toward the crowd. “As the Skultastic Superintendent of Salem, I have named Miss Sue Nami acting headmistress of Monster High so that the students may maintain as normal of a routine as possible. This, of course, means that both Picture Day and Crack and Shield Day will occur as scheduled in a few weeks’ time. And please remember, helmets are mandatory for all Crack and Shield participants, including hardheaded gargoyles.”

“Wow, even the superintendent knows that gargoyles are hardheaded,” Venus muttered to Rochelle.

“Superintendent Petra was referring to our stone composition, not our character.”

“If you say so…”

A
s the crowd began to disperse, Rochelle felt a drop of water land on her shoulder. But before she could even turn to look, another one fell, and then another and another. Standing directly behind the petite gray gargoyle was the perpetually waterlogged Miss Sue Nami. Bulky, brash, and decidedly unfeminine, she routinely stood with her legs wide apart and her hands perched on her hips.

“Non-adult entities, I need to see you,” Miss
Sue Nami barked as she looked suspiciously around the corridor.

“But you’re looking right at us? Although it is possible that water has clouded your vision,” Rochelle replied sincerely. “But you needn’t worry; I’m sure Cy knows a very good optometrist.”

“I do,” Cy piped up softly.

“Non-adult entity, I do not need an optometrist, I need to speak with you.”

“But, Madame Sue Nami, you
are
speaking with us,” the highly literal gargoyle replied.

“Rochelle, I’ve got this,” Venus said, stepping in front of Miss Sue Nami seconds before she broke into her now infamous shake.

Much like a dog after a bath, she shook from her head to her toes, sending water flying every which way.

“Nice, real nice,” Venus moaned sarcastically as she wiped her face. “Now, what can we do for you, Miss Sue Nami?”

The perennially damp dame motioned for the foursome to follow her to the corner a few feet away. Once huddled together, Miss Sue Nami shocked everyone by speaking in a whisper. It was a most surprising turn of events for a woman who had only ever spoken at one level: uncomfortably loud.

“I spent three years living among the normies, and in that time I learned a lot about them. For example: They take Halloween very seriously; they hold baseball in high regard even though it’s slower than a zombie running a marathon; hot dogs are not in fact made from dogs; but most important, they solve their problems with
lawsuits, not kidnappings. So while everyone else buys into this normie nonsense, I want you lot to keep your eyes and ears open. And just to be clear, I said keep your eyes and ears open, not your mouths. In other words, don’t go yapping about this to anyone,” Miss Sue Nami muttered, and then stomped off, leaving a trail of puddles behind her.

“She really ought to hire a troll to walk after her with a mop. Puddles can be very dangerous. As a matter of fact, they are responsible for seventy-three percent of all slips,” Rochelle recalled as she surveyed the many wet spots on the floor.

However, before Cy, Robecca, or Venus could even comment, a deep and regal voice cut through the corridor. The timbre, tone, and general manner of speaking instantly set the man apart, as did his
exquisite gold-and-turquoise gauze suit. But then again, he was royalty.

“Scariff? Superintendent? May I present myself? His Royal Highness Ramses de Nile,” the man imperiously introduced himself. “You may bow.”

“Now we know where Cleo gets her
unique
personality from,” Venus said, stifling a laugh.

“Someone sure thinks he’s the cat’s pajamas,” Robecca remarked as she watched Mr. De Nile flick an imaginary piece of lint from his impeccably tailored gauze coat.

“Mr. De Nile,” the scariff responded stiffly, while grudgingly nodding his head. “What may we do for you?”

“My daughter Cleo is a princess, second in line to the scaraoh throne. And normies, as I am
sure you know, have a long and well-documented obsession with the monarchy,” Ramses de Nile explained. “Therefore I believe it highly probable that my daughter will find herself the target of the next kidnapping. And as I do not wish anything to befall her, I have come here today to ask you to assign her a bodyguard.”