Monster High 01 - Monster High Read online

  They were in the partially unpacked living room, watching through the sliding glass doors as Beau struggled to assemble a khaki GigaTent.

  “Positive.” Melody snickered at the thought. Who were her parents kidding? Cashmere jammies, an eight-person sleeping dome, Frette sheets over an AeroBed, takeout Korean beef skewers, a carafe of mojitos, and a projector loaded with season one of Lost did not qualify as camping. Why not wrap her mouth around the exhaust pipe on a Los Angeles city bus and call it an inhaler?

  Besides, she had plans. As soon as Candace left on her third date of the week, Melody would sneak into her room with a bag of kettle corn and watch her favorite show, The Biggest Loser. Only it wasn’t on TV, and it wasn’t about weight loss. It was about a girl named Melody whose crush on an unpredictable curdy finds her alone on a Saturday night staring at his bedroom window. And it was on its third night of repeats.

  “Candace out,” her sister announced, appearing before them in an ultra-sheer, off-the-shoulder minidress in a purple, blue, and white tie-dyed print. The silver ankle booties made it perfectly clear, should anyone wonder, that she was sooo not from around here.

  “How’s the hair?” she asked, palming her beachy blond curls. “Too sexy?”

  “Do you even hear yourself?” Melody asked, surprised into a giggle.

  “I’m going out with Jason. He’s a total B-lister,” Candace explained, reglossing her lips. “I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I just want to make Leo jealous.”

  “The dress will give him the wrong idea,” Beau remarked, entering from the backyard. “Not the hair.” His steel-gray Prada fleece was flecked with bits of grass. “Now go back upstairs and finish getting dressed.”

  “Dad!” Candace stomped her bootie. “Are we living in the same house? It’s Miami-humid in here. Another layer and I’ll die of heatstroke. I didn’t even have to use my diffuser.” She pulled one of her curls and released it. “Observe.” The bounce spoke for itself.

  “The furnace guy is coming on Wednesday.” Beau wiped his tanned forehead. “Now change or I’m going to stick that GigaTent over your body, and you can make Jason jealous in that.”

  “Leo!” Candace corrected him.

  “Why don’t you try my emerald-green bubble dress over your Phi pants?” Glory tested the fullness of the AeroBed with her toe. “It’s in the wardrobe box marked YSL.”

  “I dunno.” Candace sighed tentatively. “It calls for black leather booties, and I don’t have any.”

  “Borrow my Miu Mius.” Glory blew a wisp of auburn hair away from her green eyes.

  “Great idea!” Candace exclaimed as if she hadn’t already thought of that. She winked at Melody to show she had.

  “You are such a weasel,” Melody teased as she followed her sister and collapsed on Candace’s Parisian canopy bed. The harshness of the pewter bars was offset by frilly pink sheets and a white satin duvet cover. It was the complete opposite of Melody’s bed, which was a black sleep loft from Pottery Barn with a practical desk nook underneath.

  “You have to go for what you want in life, Melly,” Candace explained, forcing her foot into the stiff leather bootie. “Eyes on the prize, especially with guys.” She nodded her head toward Jackson’s dimly lit bedroom window.

  “Nothing’s going on with him,” Melody said, hating the way that sounded. Why is saying it out loud so much harder than thinking it?

  “What about the ceramic flowers?”

  “He was making out with Cleo all week. He’s probably just using me to make her jealous because Deuce is back.” She rolled onto her side. “He’s a player, Candi. And I’m tired of being played.”

  “You give up too easily. You always have.” She smoothed her hands over the bubble hem of the green dress and tilted her head to the right. “This works.”

  Headlights streaked across the log walls of her room. “My B-list chariot awaits.”

  “Try not to be too sexy,” Melody teased.

  “Only if you try to be more sexy.” Candace waved a hand over Melody’s gray peace sign sweats, like airport security. “This is not acceptable.”

  “They’re Victoria’s Secret,” she tried.

  “Yeah.” Candace spritzed herself with the latest Tom Ford fragrance. “And the secret should never have gotten out.”

  She mussed Melody’s hair. “You should think about getting out for a while. If the boredom doesn’t get you, the heat will.” She snapped. “Candace out.” A sultry mist of Black Orchid perfume lingered in her stead.

  Melody lay on the canopy bed, tossing a white satin pillow into the air and trying to catch it before it landed on her face. Was this really her new life?

  She waited for the sound of Miu Miu boots on the wooden steps and then shimmied into the sheer tie-dyed mini that had been left for dead by the makeup vanity. With Cinderella-like trepidation, she slipped on the silver booties and then hobbled over to the mirror. They pinched her toes but did wonders for her calves. Long and lithe, they had the same delicate elegance as the billowing fabric. The cool blue-and-purple pattern brought life to her gray eyes, like lights on a Christmas tree. She was suddenly something to behold. She began imagining herself onstage singing in this dress. Maybe being pretty wasn’t so bad.…

  Vroooom vroooom!

  If it hadn’t been for her ringing iPhone, Melody might have never torn herself away from her own reflection.

  She slid her thumb across the screen, putting a sudden end to the motorcycle engine ring tone. “Hey,” she answered, rolling her sister’s white padded desk chair over to the window.

  “What’s going on?” Bekka asked. Estelle’s song “Freak” was playing in the background.

  “Nothing.” Melody looked out at the white cottage across the street. Rustic wooden boxes overflowing with wildflowers hung from the ledges. A giant maple in the front yard played mall to the food court of bird feeders tucked away in its branches. Radiating mama’s-boy charm, the quaint home didn’t befit a womanizer.

  “What are you doing?” Melody wondered. “I thought you and Brett were hanging out. What happened to sneaking into the new Saw at the Cineplex?”

  Estelle was replaced by the click clack click clack click clack of fingers on a keyboard.

  “My parents want me to stay home because of the whole monster thing.” She smacked something solid. “It’s so lame. I waited all week to hang out with him, and now…” She smacked the solid thing again. “We were only going to the movies. What do they think? We’ll be attacked by the Wolfman? Ghostface? Oh, no, wait. What about the Piranha?”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “Why don’t you ask Brett to come over?” Melody asked, squinting to determine whether the flicker behind Jackson’s blinds was a sign of activity or wishful thinking.

  “I did. He won’t.” Her tone shifted from anger to disappointment. “He has to see it opening weekend. So he’s going with Heath… or so he says.”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  Jackson’s bedroom light shut off. Melody’s show was canceled.

  “Explain this whole monster thing,” she said, finally showing some interest. People at school had been talking about an incident at Mount Hood High, but she hadn’t given it any serious attention. After all, they’d been talking about monsters. Besides, nothing could be scarier than the girls at Beverly Hills High, so why panic? But parents keeping kids indoors made it sort of seem real… almost. “Is it actually legit?”

  “My parents seem to think so.” Bekka groaned.

  “Mine too,” said a familiar voice.

  “Haylee?”

  “Hey, Melody.”

  “When did you get on the phone?” Melody asked, wondering if she missed that detail while peering into Jackson’s bedroom.

  “She’s on all my calls,” Bekka explained. “Transcribing for the book.”

  “Oh.” Melody bit her thumbnail, finally realizing that the background noise was Haylee’s typing. She wasn’t sure h
ow she felt about the invasion. “Anyway, where were we?”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “Monsters,” Haylee stated.

  “Right, thanks.” Bekka inhaled sharply. “There are all kinds of rumors floating around, but I go with Brett’s story because he is super into this stuff.”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “He says that there are families of monsters that live in Hells Canyon, about two hundred miles from here. They drink and bathe in Snake River and feed in the Seven Devils Mountains. In the summer the canyon gets so hot they migrate west to the ocean, traveling only at night or on super-foggy mornings.”

  All of a sudden Jackson passed in front of his window. The surprise sighting gave Melody a chill. She had never actually seen him in his room before. She turned off the light in Candace’s room so that he couldn’t see in, and feigned interest in Bekka’s lesson in local folklore.

  “Really?”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “That’s what Brett says,” Bekka explained. “Then when fall comes and things cool off, they go back. So it makes perfect sense that there was a sighting, because it’s peak migration season.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed Deuce,” Melody said sulkily, tired of the hokey monster talk. “It only made things worse.”

  “What things?” Bekka asked. “You and Jackson weren’t in a relationship.”

  “Harsh.” Melody giggled. Her new friend was right. This stalking-and-sulking routine was getting stale. It was the anti–fresh start.

  “It’s true,” Haylee confirmed Bekka’s allegation.

  “I know.” Melody leaned her forehead against the cool window. It was the closest thing to a splash of cold water she could find. “I totally fell for the shy-artist thing. He’s not even that cute.”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “Thanks a lot,” said a boy’s voice.

  Melody jumped. “Ahhhhhhhh!” She whip-turned to face the thin silhouette in Candace’s darkened doorway. Adrenaline revved her heart like an outboard motor.

  “Melody, are you okay? Answer me!” Bekka shouted into the phone. “Is it the monster?”

  Click clack click clack click clack…

  “No. I’m fine.” Melody placed a hand over her booming chest. “It’s just Jackson. I’ll call you back.”

  Click cl—

  She hung up and tossed the phone on Candace’s bed.

  “Was that Deuce?” he asked.

  Basking in the warmth of his jealousy, Melody decided to let him think it was. “That’s irrelevant. What are you doing here?”

  “The homeless couple camping in your backyard let me in.” He stepped into the darkness.

  Melody squinted. “Have you been eavesdropping?”

  “Hey,” he said, approaching the window. “Is that my room?”

  “How would I know?” Melody sounded more defensive than she would have liked. She rolled the chair back to the desk and flicked on the light.

  Jackson’s hazel eyes illuminated when he saw her. Melody’s cheeks burned. She had completely forgotten she was wearing Candace’s minidress. Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious. Not because her legs were exposed, but because her experimentation with sexiness was.

  “Um, so,” he stammered, wiping his slick forehead, “I just came to tell you to stay away from Deuce.”

  “Why?” Melody grinned vengefully. “Because you’re jealous?”

  “No.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Because he’s dangerous.”

  “Jealous, jealous, jealous,” Melody sang like a little girl in a playground. To her surprise, her voice sounded a smidge clearer than usual.

  “I’m not jealous, okay? I’m worried.” Jackson’s upper lip began to bead. “About a fellow human being. Man, is it always so hot in here?” he snapped.

  “Yup,” Melody said, trying to sound as though she wasn’t gutted by his lack of jealousy. “There’s a fan in my room,” she offered. “But you probably just came to give me that message, so…” She clomped over to Candace’s door and held it open for him with all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. “Have a great night. And thanks again.”

  Jackson walked out, leaving Melody to feel as if she were falling into a giant crevasse. She lowered her reeling head in her hands.

  “Much better!” Jackson called.

  He was in her room. Lights on. Fan whirling. Falling down a crevasse feeling—gone!

  Jackson had already made himself at home. Sitting on the wooden floor under her black loft bed, knees drawn into his chest, fan blasting on him. He was wearing a navy collared short-sleeved shirt, faded blue jeans, and black Converse (just like hers!). The geek chic of it all smacked of a Marc Jacobs print campaign.

  “Interesting,” he said, taking in the unpacked boxes.

  “It’s not so bad.” She sat, thinking more of him than her tiny disheveled room.

  A short, awkward round of bobble-heading followed.

  “So what’s with you and Cleo?” Melody blurted, as if her thoughts had been greased with cooking oil.

  “Whadda’ya mean?” He closed his eyes and leaned closer to the fan.

  “Seriously?” Melody’s heart revved all over again. “Look, I know you’re a player. That’s fine. I get it. The best we can hope for is a neighborly rapport, so you might as well be honest with me.”

  “A player?” Jackson practically laughed in her face. “You’re the one who was kissing Deuce in the middle of the hall.”

  Melody stood. How dare he turn this around on her? “We’re done.”

  “What? What did I do?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Jackson!”

  A cyclone of emotions tore through the back of her throat and blew tears to her eyes. She must have uttered that sentence a thousand times. The only variable was the name tacked on the end.

  “Then maybe I am.” He reached for her hand. It felt like the smell of gingerbread cookies on Christmas Eve. “Tell me.” He squeezed. “What did I do?”

  Melody searched his eyes. They gripped her with same desperation as his hand. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

  Shaking her head like a Magic 8 Ball, Melody wished the answer would suddenly appear. Was this an extreme form of new-girl hazing, or did he really have no idea what she was talking about?

  “Cleo,” she said flatly, searching his face for any subtle sign of recognition. But there was none. No clenched jaw. No twitching eyelid. No lick of dry lips. He stared at her with the innocence of a child gazing at his teacher during storytime.

  “You kissed her,” Melody continued. “A lot.”

  This time he lowered his head in shame.

  “Ah-ha! So you do remember!”

  He shook his head from side to side. “No, I don’t. That’s the problem.”

  “What?” Melody sat down beside him and removed her heels. This conversation was going somewhere silver booties didn’t belong.

  “I have blackouts,” he admitted, peeling a loose piece of rubber off the toe of his sneaker. “My mom thinks anxiety may trigger them, but she’s not sure.”

  “What do the doctors say?”

  “No one knows for sure.”

  “Wait, something doesn’t make sense.” Melody shifted to face him, but it was impossible to sit cross-legged in a micromini. “Hold on,” she said, reaching for a box marked COMFY. She lifted out a pair of wrinkled striped pajama bottoms and slipped them on under her dress. “Better.” she smiled with relief. “Okay, so how can you kiss people when you’re all blacked out?”

  “That’s a good question.” He ran a hand through his floppy layers and sighed. “I wonder if I’m getting worse?”

  “Don’t worry.” Melody touched him gently on the knee. “There are tons of people who can help you.”

  “I’m more worried about my mom than me,” he said. “I’m all she has.”

  Touched by his selflessness, Melody leaned closer. Her black hair got
swept up by the breeze of the fan and whipped the sides of their faces. It was pure Hollywood cheese.

  “Relax.” She gripped his wrist with mock urgency. “You’re not going anywhere. The good people of Salem need us!”

  “Then fight I shall!” he fired back, not skipping a beat.

  They burst out laughing, letting go of all unnecessary jealousy and welcoming the mystery of their uncertain fate.

  “You know that I just kissed Deuce to make you jealous, right?” Melody admitted.

  “No, but it worked.”

  “Yay,” Melody squeaked, relieved to hear him say it.

  He searched her face, his eyes smiling like he was reading Mad Libs.

  “What?”

  “Your name,” Jackson said. “It suits you.”

  “Really?” she asked, surprised. Even though she used to sing, she had always thought she should have been named something darker, like Meredith or Helena. “Melody sounds so… chipper, and I’m so… not.”

  “Yeah, but look at the meaning.” He crossed his legs so their knees were touching. “A sequence of single notes that, when combined, make something amazing. And that’s you.”

  Melody giggled nervously, then looked at her calloused bare feet. Candace was right. Would it kill her to get a pedicure every once in a while?

  “Thank you,” she said, touched by her own shyness. “No one ever put that much thought into my name,” she admitted. “Not even my parents. They wanted to name me Melanie, but my mom had some crazy sinus infection while she was giving birth. So when it came time to tell the nurse what to write on the birth certificate, Melanie sounded like Melody. They didn’t catch the mistake until it arrived in the mail three months later. So they decided to go with it.”

  “Well, it suits you perfectly. It’s really pretty.” He swallowed.

  Here it comes.… Don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t…

  “Like you.”

  “Crap. I was afraid you were going to say that.” Melody stood, bracing herself for the inevitable.

  “What?” Jackson stood too and followed her to the box marked BEVERLY HELLS.

  “Look.” She shoved her old school ID under his nose.