Monster High 3: Where There's a Wolf, There's a Way Page 9

  “No trade backs,” Cleo said as they merged into hallway traffic. It seemed lighter than usual. There was an overall malaise in the students they passed. Usually, the halls buzzed between classes, but today they hummed. Last week everyone bustled; now they meandered. The energy dial had been turned way down. It was life unplugged. Everything felt acoustic. “Are you seriously just getting here? It’s last period on Wednesday!”

  “I know.” Melody sighed. “My parents are away, and it’s been kind of a weird week, so…”

  “Manu told me.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, he wanted me to make sure you were okay and to find a subtle way of letting you know that families are messy and that love matters more than blood… unless, of course, you’re you-know-who.” She made finger-fangs and wiggled them playfully. “Ka! I miss that girl.”

  Nausea wave-pooled through Melody’s insides. Why would Manu blab my secret to a big gossip? “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  Cleo drew an imaginary crown on her green-and-yellow sweater dress. “Crown my heart and hope to rot! Besides…” She put an amber-scented arm around Melody and pulled her close. Gold bangles jabbed into Melody’s shoulder blade. “I’ve had mummy issues for 5,842 years. It’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

  “What is?” Frankie asked, appearing beside them. “Come on, tell me. I have some voltage Billy gossip. I’ll trade you.”

  Melody noted that Frankie’s green skin was hidden under a turtleneck sweater, black skinny jeans, and knee-high motorcycle boots, but her long-lost curves had definitely been found. Did she always look like the number 8? Why suddenly show off her shape? Maybe Brett is back.

  “Mum’s the word,” Cleo said, giggling at her pun. “If Melody wants to talk about it, she can. I swore I wouldn’t.”

  “Cle-o!” Melody snapped. She could have been mad, should have been mad, but these girls had trusted her with their lives. Why not trust them back?

  “Please,” Frankie begged. Her smile was electric and impossible to resist.

  On the way to class, Melody filled them in on Marina. She told them about her old camel-hump nose and the unsettling glance between her so-called parents. When she was done, a memory of skinny-dipping with Candace at the Four Seasons Maui flashed through her mind. Just like that risqué plunge, this admission left her feeling both exhilarated and exposed.

  “You’re not upset, are you?” Frankie asked, as if Melody had been mourning a chipped nail.

  “Of course I am,” Cleo snapped. “Deuce is my boyfriend. He should have called by now.”

  Frankie giggled. “I’m talking about the mama drama.”

  “Of course I’m upset,” Melody said. “My parents have been lying to me. And now I have no idea who I am or where I came from. It’s creepy.”

  “More creepy than sleeping in a laboratory with wires clamped to your neck?” Frankie mumbled from the side of her mouth.

  “Or spending a few millennia alone in a dark sarcophagus?”

  “Um…” Melody had no idea how to respond without offending them.

  “We all have freaky parents, and we all come from freaky places,” Cleo said while checking out the passing students. “Get over it.”

  “I think she meant your parents love you and that’s all that matters,” Frankie tried, flashing her contagiously perky smile.

  Melody couldn’t help smiling back. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what she meant.”

  “Okay, ready for my Billy gossip?” Frankie asked.

  “Ka!” Cleo pulled down a poster that had been taped to the cinder-block wall. It announced “sudden openings” on the school’s football, basketball, and swim teams and urged students of “all fitness levels” to try out. “All the cool people are gone.”

  “Present company excluded, right?” Frankie asked.

  Ignoring her, Cleo took a wad of pink gum from her mouth and stuck it onto a locker. “There are anti-RAD rallies every morning and monster jokes written in the bathroom stalls. Classes are half empty.”

  “Oh, and you should see the cafeteria,” Frankie said to Melody. “You know the lunchtime playlist? ‘Imagine’ was on it. You know, by John Legend.”

  “You mean John Lennon?” Melody giggled.

  “Cleo!” Frankie swatted her on the arm. “You told me his last name was Legend.”

  “Oops.” Cleo smirked. “My bad.”

  “Anyway,” Frankie continued, “the list was all peace songs.”

  “So some people have been supportive?” Melody asked as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  “Yeah, but not enough,” Cleo said as two overly buff twelfth-grade guys started down the steps wearing matching Tshirts. RAD was spray-painted across the front in black letters, but the R was crossed out and replaced with a B.

  Frankie rolled her periwinkle-blue eyes. “Real clever.”

  “What did you expect?” Melody muttered. “A smart idiot?”

  Suddenly, three girls wearing pirate masks and wielding prop swords appeared behind them, pushing past students, knocking over books. Melody recognized her sister.

  “Seize them!” Candace called. Some students reached out to grab the guys; others stepped aside and let them pass. Casually, Cleo stuck out her foot. The boys tripped down the last two steps but quickly righted themselves and made a move for the first-floor hallway.

  “Stop!” Melody ordered.

  The two boys halted, like a video being paused.

  Whoa!

  “Golden,” Cleo exclaimed.

  “Mint!” Frankie added.

  Melody felt as if everyone in the stairwell was staring at her.

  “Attack!” Candace shouted. Her fellow pirates pounced on the guys like spider monkeys and began slicing off their shirts with dull sabers.

  “What’s going on?” Cleo whispered to Melody. “Why is everyone listening to you lately?”

  Thankfully, Principal Weeks broke up the skirmish before Melody could answer. Not that she didn’t want to. She just didn’t know how.

  Ms. J was late for class. Her chair was one of five left empty in the lab. Despite the restless chatter and bursts of laughter, those who were missing stood out the most.

  Frankie leaned forward and whispered, “Have you seen Billy?”

  “Is that supposed to be funny?” Cleo asked, not bothering to turn around.

  Melody giggled.

  “No, I’m serious,” Frankie said. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. Mel’s sister gave him a makeover. He’s megawatt hot.”

  “I was wondering what Billy and Candace were doing in the bathroom for so long,” Melody said, checking the door for Ms. J.

  “He’s taking me to see Lady Gaga,” Frankie said, beaming.

  “Does this mean you’re over Brett?” Melody asked.

  “Who?”

  “Brett.”

  “Who?” Frankie smiled. And then she squealed, “Ah!” Rubbing the back of her neck, she turned to face Bekka—and the red barrel of a squirt gun. “What was that for?” Frankie asked.

  “Science experiment. They say water and electricity don’t mix, but you seem just fine—Frankie Stein.”

  Her snooty friends giggled. Melody couldn’t imagine how Frankie was dealing with the assault and was too mortified to check. Instead, she picked her cuticles and prayed for Ms. J to show up soon.

  Thomp. A clove of garlic hit the side of Melody’s head and bounced to the floor. Muffled snickers followed.

  “Looks like we can cross vampire off the list,” Bekka called from the back of the room. Dressed in a red and pink flower-print dress, she appeared deceptively sweet as she sat on her desk, swinging her legs.

  Haylee dutifully drew a line through something in her pink composition notebook.

  Next, Cleo got whacked in the cheek with a brown biscuit. “Ow!” She picked up the biscuit and whipped it back.

  “No dog would turn down a Milk-Bone,” Bekka said. “Cross off werewolf.�
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  Haylee did.

  “Werewolves are not dogs!” Cleo stood and began unclipping her earrings.

  “Ignore her,” Frankie muttered.

  Cleo set the feathers on her desk and told Melody, “They’re yours if anything happens to me.”

  Is she really going to fight? Because the last thing RADs needed was normie blood on their hands.

  “Sit,” Melody insisted.

  Cleo did.

  “Ha! Good trick.” Bekka clapped her hands. “Looks like she is a dog, after all.”

  More laughter from the back of the room.

  “You’re the dog,” Cleo said. “That’s why Brett ditched you for Frankie.”

  The room was silent. Bekka and Frankie were probably on the verge of tears. After all, Brett had left them both.

  “Why are you on their side all of a sudden?” Bekka asked Cleo.

  “All of a sudden? Please, I’ve been on their side my whole life,” Cleo fired back with a little too much conviction.

  Bekka lifted her eyebrow. “Really?”

  “I mean, the side where people can do what they want. The anti-mean side.”

  “Interesting.” Bekka began strolling toward Cleo, arms behind her back like a puffed-up prosecutor. “Then why,” she asked, stopping at Cleo’s desk, “were you so into destroying their little documentary?”

  Melody’s heart revved. Bekka had Michael Moore’s passion for exposing people. One slipup from Cleo was all she needed.

  Melody stood too and approached Bekka. They were so close that Melody could smell the other girl’s mango-scented lip gloss. “Why don’t you just admit it?”

  “Admit what?” Bekka asked, blinking.

  “That you’re a monster.”

  “Me?” Bekka scoffed.

  “Yeah, a green-eyed monster!” Frankie giggled, completing Melody’s thought.

  “Ha! Golden!” Cleo lifted her palm. The three girls high-fived. A tiny spark passed between them. Frankie quickly stuffed her hands back into her jeans pockets.

  Bekka rolled her eyes. “And who would I be jealous of, Melody? You? Because you’re dating some bipolar guy who’s allergic to his own sweat?”

  “No. You’re jealous of Frankie, and you’re making everyone suffer because of it,” Melody said. “This whole monster hunt is about your bruised ego.”

  “ ’Scuse me?” Bekka retorted, hands on her hips.

  “You need someone to blame because Brett’s not into you anymore. So you’re going after innocent people.” Melody shook with conviction. “Just admit it.”

  Bekka’s blinking eyes darkened to the color of summer storm clouds. “Fine, I admit it.”

  Cleo smacked her desk. “Nice!”

  Confused glances shot up and down the rows.

  Huh?

  “I knew it!” Frankie said.

  “Do that again,” Cleo urged Melody.

  Melody swallowed hard and then asked, “Bekka, do you have any proof that the RADs are dangerous? Have you ever seen them hurt anyone?”

  Bekka blinked again. “Yes, me! I was hurt when the green girl kissed Brett.” Her freckly cheeks flushed, and her eyes teared.

  “I mean physically,” Melody demanded.

  Bekka shook her head.

  “Are you kidding me?” Haylee called, tearing a page out of her notebook and crumpling it up.

  “Of course I am,” Bekka said, managing a smile.

  “Are you?” Melody pressed.

  Bekka lowered her head. “No.”

  How am I doing this?

  “Do you know where Brett is?” Frankie tried.

  Bekka leaned against an empty desk and folded her arms. “Of course I do.”

  Frankie stood, her hands deep in her pockets. “Tell me.”

  “He doesn’t want you to know. He only wants me to know.”

  “So you’ve been talking to him?” Frankie asked.

  Bekka twirled her B charm necklace. “Yup.”

  “Do you really know where Brett is?” Melody pressed.

  Bekka sighed. “No.”

  “Have you been talking to him?”

  “No.”

  “Case dismissed!”

  Murmurs built to mumbles. Bekka hurried back toward her friends to appeal.

  “Wait, I have one more question,” Melody announced.

  Everyone stopped talking.

  “This one is for Haylee.”

  The mousy girl pushed her beige glasses up her wide nose and then nodded that she was ready.

  “Why do you let Bekka boss you around?”

  The defendant’s brown eyes shifted from her old master to the new one.

  “Hay-leeee,” Bekka warned. “Don’t answer.”

  “You have to,” Melody insisted.

  Haylee began blinking.

  “Tell me,” Melody said.

  Bekka shook her head. Haylee nodded. And then, “I signed one of her indentured-service contracts in eighth grade. It doesn’t expire until sophomore year of college.”

  A few of the students laughed at the idea, but Melody flashed back to the loyalty contract Bekka had made her sign on the first day of school. What was it about high school that made people think with their insecurities instead of their brains?

  “Did you ever try to break it?” Melody asked.

  “Eleven times. It’s tight. Her father drafted it.” Haylee reached inside her green crocodile-skin attaché case and pulled out a legal document. She held it out in front of her, offering it to Melody.

  “Destroy it,” Melody ordered Bekka, who quickly swooped in and tore it to bits.

  “Does this mean I’m free?” Haylee asked.

  Bekka threw the paper at her ex-friend. It covered her like confetti on Independence Day.

  “Us too?” asked one of their friends.

  “All of you,” Bekka shouted, her face ablaze with humiliation. “You’re the reason Brett broke up with me, anyway.”

  “Us?” asked Haylee.

  “Yeah. He was embarrassed to be seen with you!” Bekka hugged her books to her chest like a shield.

  “Why?” asked a girl with chipmunk cheeks. “What did we do?”

  “Britt, skinny jeans are for skinny people! Deelya, close your mouth when you breathe! Rachel, either pop those whiteheads or build a chairlift on your face and sell season passes! Morgan, you smell like Kraft Singles. And Haylee, you dress like my nana. Why do you think Heath never asked you out?”

  “Because he can’t stand you!”

  Haylee lifted the green case over her head and turned it upside down. Contracts fell like paratroopers jumping to freedom. Britt, Deelya, Rachel, and Morgan ripped their way to happiness.

  “You’re all dead to me!” Bekka shouted. She gathered her things and stomped toward the door amid mounting chaos. On the way out, she collided with a grape-shaped woman wearing a paisley-print sweater set and navy slacks. “And where are you going?” asked the stranger, righting the Whole Foods tote bag that had slipped off her shoulder.

  “To a normal school!” Bekka barked before taking off down the hall.

  Everyone began applauding. Frankie joy-kicked the back of Melody’s chair while the grape worked to restore order.

  Cleo leaned across the row and whispered, “Spill. How are you doing that?”

  Melody searched for an answer but came up short. “I just ask and—”

  “No,” Cleo said, plucking an olive, blue, and gold feather from Melody’s hair. She twirled it between her fingers, admiring its iridescent sheen. “Where are these coming from? I could design a whole jewelry collection around them.” She held it to her collarbone. “Perfect with my earrings, right?”

  Melody reached out her hand, testing her power of persuasion on the most stubborn subject of all. “Kiss it good-bye and give it to me.”

  Cleo blinked, kissed the feather, and tucked it behind Melody’s ear.

  “Earrings too.”

  Without hesitation, Cleo did what she’d been told.

>   Manu was right, Melody realized. Her voice was irresistible.

  “Sorry I’m late. I was in a meeting with Principal Weeks,” announced the grape. “My name is Mrs. Stern-Figgus. I’ll be taking over for Ms. J.”

  Melody’s stomach lurched.

  “Where is she?” asked Britt.

  The round woman turned to the blackboard and began writing her name. “I wasn’t given that information.”

  Of course you were. “Where is Ms. J?” Melody tried.

  “She was forced to resign,” said Mrs. Stern-Figgus.

  Several students gasped.

  “By Principal Weeks?” Melody pressed.

  “School board.”

  “Why?”

  The teacher turned around. “Harboring a RAD.” She blinked.

  Not just a RAD! Her son! What’s wrong with these people?

  “Where is she now?” asked Melody, voice quaking.

  Mrs. Stern-Figgus shrugged. Of course she didn’t know. Melody didn’t even know, and Jackson was her boyfriend. Were they leaving? Were they gone? Was there time to stop them? All this time wasted in class, toying with Bekka, when she could have been out looking for them.

  Melody stood and grabbed her books. Everyone in the class was staring. She couldn’t have cared less.

  “What is this, Grand Central Station? Where is everyone running off to? Where are you going, Miss…” The teacher snapped her fingers.

  “Carver. Melody Carver. And I’m not sure where I’m going.”

  Cleo and Frankie giggled. Maybe some of the others did too. It was hard to hear with all that panic ringing in her ears.

  Mrs. Stern-Figgus clapped twice. “Sit down.”

  “I can’t. I have to go.”

  “Do you have a permission slip?”

  Stepping into the hallway, Melody said, “No. So when you take attendance, please mark me down as present.”

  Mrs. Stern-Figgus flashed an agreeable thumbs-up and then waved good-bye.

  Melody didn’t stick around to bask in the approval of her classmates. Instead, she clipped on her earrings, secured the feather behind her ear, and hurried outside. She was finally ready for the truth. All she had to do was ask and brace herself for the answer. And this time she would get it.

  LOST CHAPTER

  (WHOSE UNLUCKY

  NUMBER SHALL GO

  UNMENTIONED)