At lunch the following day, Monster High’s Creepateria was absolutely abuzz with stories of the amazing, stylish, supernaturally interesting Miss Flapper. Why, even Spectra Vondergeist, everyone’s favorite purple-haired ghost, was posting about the new teacher on her blog, Ghostly Gossip!
It was as if the entire student body, both boys and girls, had developed an all-consuming crush on the newest member of the staff. Well, maybe not the entire school. Venus, Robecca, and Rochelle were far too focused on another member of the faculty to mind Miss Flapper.
Rochelle: There is no point mincing words: Clearly an intervention is needed!
Rochelle was tapping her fingers repeatedly on the wooden tabletop, dimpling the surface.
Venus: An intervention for what?
Rochelle: For depression, of course! Regardez! He’s trying to drown himself in his soup!
Venus rolled her eyes at Rochelle before realizing that Mr. D’eath was, in fact, trying to submerge his bony face in two inches of split pea soup. You walked by and pulled his head out, telling him not to try and drown himself at school.
You then walked off to your usual table. You sat down with your food and started to eat.
Your mind was still on what the troll had told you the day before. It was an extremely cryptic message, but you couldn't figure out what he meant by it.
Draculaura: You okay, Y/N?
You looked up and nodded. However, you noticed that Lagoona and Frankie seemed a bit out of it as well.
Y/N: Uh, yeah. Just, thinking about something. I had a seriously weird encounter with that troll yesterday in Dr. Clamdestine’s class. He was freaking out about something, but I couldn’t understand a single word he said.
Draculaura: Well, they are quite elderly trolls. Or perhaps they’re not up to date on their rabies vaccinations; incoherent babbling is a very common sign of infection.
That was actually true. Still, it was strange. And Venus was just as confused as you were. Maybe you should talk to her about it later.
You went back to eating, but looked at Frankie and Lagoon again. What was up with them?
---------------
Miss Flapper frolicked effortlessly down the purple-and-green corridor. The nimble-footed European was leading a bevy of trolls who themselves were walking small green dragons, each no larger than an average house cat. The unusually delicate Miss Flapper appeared almost to be walking on air, so light and feminine was her step.
Dressed head to toe in white Scaremès couture, the woman floated from student to student, whispering in their ears. And while no one could hear what she was saying, it must have been terribly intense. The students’ faces momentarily flashed blank before morphing back to normal.
Venus: What do you suppose Miss Flapper is whispering to them?
Venus was asking Rochelle as a pod of pumpkin heads knocked against her in their pursuit of the popular teacher.
Rochelle: Although this is purely conjecture, it’s possible she is informing them of the trolls’ dubious Bitealian vaccination records.
You opened your locker just as Miss Flapper rounded the corner. She spotted you and smirked, but was stopped when three students suddenly began singing.
Pumpkin Heads: Miss Flapper is so pretty, like a perfect Persian kitty~
She looked at them before looking up to see that you were still getting your books.
Miss Flapper: Oh, pumpkin heads. It’s such a shame you’re not in my class. You really must join my after-school club, the Monster Advancement League League. We added the extra league so that we might call ourselves MALL.
Miss Flapper then leaned in to whisper in their ears. With a self-satisfied smile, the beguiling woman continued down the corridor, whispering to everyone from Draculaura to Cleo de Nile, until she found herself face-to-face with Rochelle and only two lockers away from you.
Miss Flapper leaned in slowly, her rose perfume instantly reminding the petite gargoyle of Garrott and the amazing rosebush he had created in her honor. However, just as the woman parted her perfect pink lips to whisper in Rochelle’s ear, a voice cut through the hall, causing the young gargoyle to turn her head abruptly.
Robecca: Deary me! I’m late again!
You looked up, making Miss Flapper smile sweetly at you before moving on to Ghoulia. You raised a brow, but didn't say anything.
Robecca: In the name of the mouse’s house, I haven’t a clue what happened to me!
Robecca yelled loudly while crossing the busy corridor to Venus and Rochelle.
As always seemed to happen, the steam-ridden Robecca bumped into you amid the throng of students. Unfortunately, her metal plates were still sweltering, making the collision more than a little painful.
Y/N: Ah!
You both fell over. A troll waddled over and shushed you both.
Troll: Quiet in hall! Quiet!
Robecca: But I’m late! Surely that is a worse offense than talking loudly!
Troll: Go class or I eat you!
Y/N: Oh, stop bluffing. I know you’re a vegetarian.
Venus: Hello? I’m a plant. Hurry up or we’re going to miss Home Eek.
Rochelle: Je ne comprends pas! Why are you always late?
You got up and helped Robecca to her feet as well. She looked panicked.
Robecca: Deary me, I’ve thought about it so many times, though I’m still not sure I know the answer. My best guess is that I get so caught up in things that I forget everything else, and then, like a lightning bolt, this feeling hits. And I know I’m late, but I don’t know for what because I haven’t a clue what time it is.
Rochelle: But you’re wearing a watch. Several, in fact.
Y/N: Yes, but they don’t work. Steam kills watches.
Robecca nodded in agreement. You rubbed the back of your head, before noticing that you had gotten cut. You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out a bandaid and slapping it on.
---------------
The process of making Crispy Tongue Soup was actually rather difficult, or at least Miss Kindergrubber made it seem that way, groaning anytime anyone asked a question or mismeasured an ingredient. As Robecca dropped witch hazel into her pot, you watched her every move. You were seated directly behind her so that you could see her as clearly as possible. She seemed like a bit of a....
Klutz.
As the end of class neared, Miss Kindergrubber tasted all the students’ work before revealing that you had most successfully executed the recipe. And while no one said it aloud, more than one student thought the you had an unfair advantage, considering who your uncle was.
Miss Kindergrubber: I am very impressed, Van Helsing. I would serve this to the finest dragons I know.
Y/N: Uh, thanks?
Was that a compliment?
Upon laying down their ladles, the trio of pumpkin heads promptly began passing out flyers for the Monster Advancement League League while singing indiscreetly and off-key about gossip they heard in the hall.
Pumpkin Heads: Frankie Stein thinks MALL is divine. Says Cleo de Nile, the club will make you smile~
One of these flyers landed on your desk, once you confusing you. MALL? This looked....weird.
Rochelle: James? What exactly do you do at this club?
James: We prance, we dance, we help monsters advance~
Y/N: Uh, not to be rude, but that is awfully vague. Might you give me a few specifics?
James: If we put monsters first, the world will no longer be cursed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m absolutely dying of thirst~
Venus: That made no sense. Well, except the part about being thirsty. I sure could use a good watering about now.
You stared at the paper confused, unsure what to think.
--------------
You laid in bed and stared at the ceiling of your room. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but something was definitely going on. From the Troll's weird message to Bloodgood and your friends acting weird.
You began to wonder if Ms. Flapper had something to do with it all. All of this did start when she showed up, after all. But, what was she doing. And how? Not a lot of this made sense.
You considered calling Cupid, but your phone had started ringing on it's own. When you looked, you saw that it was Rochelle. She had texted you to see if you were free to help her and her roommates with looking for Frankie. You figured you had the time and agreed.
The center of town was a ten-minute walk from Monster High’s campus. The quaint and charming village of Salem had the two things teenagers needed and loved most: a Maul and a Coffin Bean coffee shop that served the best milk shakes.
You, Rochelle, Venus, and Robecca began your search for Frankie at the Maul, scanning every store you passed for even the faintest hint of green. And although the three friends were highly focused on finding Frankie, they gave themselves a short break to check out the latest fashions in Transylvania’s Secret.
Rochelle, who had never been in a Transylvania’s Secret before, was impressed with the cutting-edge fashion and made a mental note to return once the Mr. D’eath mission was complete. Though, you decided to wait outside. You didn't need to know what kind of underwear they were buying.
After searching every inch of the Maul, including Beastly’s Bargain Basement, a shop where fashion went to die, you all headed over to the Coffin Bean. And before you had even opened the coffee shop’s front doors, you noted the sweet scent of rose perfume. It could mean only one thing, or, rather, one person.
Holding court inside the Gothic-style coffee shop, amid a sea of students, was none other than Miss Flapper. Instantly spotting the four of you, the delicate woman lifted herself off a small, black velvet chair and skipped over to greet you.
Miss Flapper: Hello, and welcome to my lair.
You looked behind her at all the students who seemed to stare blankly forward. That was definitely weird, right? You then lokked at the teacher who seemed hyper focused in you. You offered a friendly smile.
Y/N: And to think, I thought this was a coffee shop.
Miss Flapper: Oh, it is. But wild dragons live in lairs, so I like to think of every room I’m in as a lair. It’s rather sad how few free-roaming dragons remain in the world, and those that do tend to live in very unmonsterable climates, such as Los Fangeles and Batlanta.
Rochelle: It’s true. Monsters are predisposed to car sickness and, therefore, not well suited for driving-heavy cities.
Miss Flapper: Have you come to join MALL?
Miss Flapper began to leaned in to whisper in your ear. You quickly stepped back.
Y/N: I’ve never been very fond of whispering. It tends to tickle my ear. Plus, my uncle always said that people only whisper what they shouldn’t be saying in the first place.
This statement left Miss Flapper quite shocked. You looked past her and spotted a familiar green head.
Y/N: Hey, look! There’s Frankie Stein. We should probably go talk to her now, or we’ll miss dinner.
Miss Flapper: Of course, but please don’t forget to join MALL. We need you.
Miss Flapper hissed quietly before staring intently into the eyes of each you.
Robecca: I’ve always loved joining clubs, although, in truth, they’re usually book clubs. What exactly does MALL do?
Miss Flapper: We help monsters find their rightful place in the normie world.
If that was true, then why did they need you? That didn't seem to make much sense to you.
Rochelle: Please excuse us, madame, but we are on a most important mission.
You all headed straight for Frankie Stein as Miss Flapper watched your every move.
Tucked away in the corner of the coffee shop, just behind Three-Headed Freddie, was the delightfully green Frankie Stein. Instead of sporting her usual warm smile, though, the girl appeared quite serious, almost forlorn, even. This marked change in expression did little to ease Rochelle’s nerves about requesting a favor.
Rochelle: Pardonnez-moi, Frankie. I am most sorry to impose upon your time, especially when you are…uh...
She was at a loss. What did she even ask?
Y/N: Actually, what is it exactly that everyone is doing here?
Frankie: We’re soaking up Miss Flapper’s aura, of course.
Frankie said this flatly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Rochelle: Oh, well, I certainly do not wish to interrupt, but I was wondering if I might ask you something.
Frankie: Miss Flapper says one monster’s question is another monster’s answer.
Frankie spoke robotically, as though reciting a line from a script. It made you so uneasy. She seemed so....lifeless. And not in the usually good way.
Rochelle: I do not wish to bore you with the intricacies of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics, but we do not believe in asking for favors unless absolutely necessary. Therefore, with that in mind, I present myself today having already attempted and failed at this request with my own two hands.
She stared at Frankie with such seriousness that you had to reel her back in.
Y/N: Rochee, take it down a notch. She’s going to think you’re asking for a kidney.
Rochelle: But gargoyles do not have kidneys.
Robecca: I think what Y/N meant is that this doesn’t have to be such a formal affair.
Rochelle then quickly returned her gaze to the green girl.
Rochelle: Frankie Stein, I shall now get to the point. I need your help sewing something. You see, I have these sharp claws that snag everything I touch. And as you know, it’s awfully arduous to sew without touching the fabric.
Frankie: Miss Flapper says there is no greater mission than helping monsters get ahead, especially in this world that caters so much to normies.
Venus: Does that mean you’ll do it?
Venus was clearly bewildered by the girl’s strange behavior just like you were.
Frankie: Of course I will. What do you need sewn?
Rochelle: Can you keep a secret?
Frankie: Miss Flapper says one monster’s secret is every monster’s secret.
Venus nudged you and mumbled under her breath so just the two of you could hear.
Venus: Who knew Miss Flapper was so quotable?
Rochelle: It’s a new suit for Monsieur D’eath. I’m hoping that after a few renovations to his exterior, I might be able to find him a date. The man is desperately in need of some happiness.
Frankie: That certainly is kind of you. And as this is a special occasion, I shall enlist the help of Clawdeen Wolf. She is, after all, a very talented designer.
Rochelle: That would be fangtastique!
She clasped her stone hands together excitedly. You wished you could share in her excitement, but this was all just to bizarre to you.
-------------
At Rochelle’s insistence, the four of you joined Mr. D’eath, the on-call faculty member, for dinner in the Creepateria. Over mashed potatoes and formaldehyde gravy, Rochelle, Robecca, and Venus desperately tried to engage their morose teacher in small talk. You simply sat back and listened.
Rochelle: Monsieur D’eath, where do you originate from?
Mr. D'eath: The land of gray clouds and black souls.
Y/N: Sounds like a real hot spot.
Robecca: How long have you been at Monster High?
Mr. D'eath: Who knows? I can’t even remember how long I’ve been dead.
Mr. D’eath moaned before looking down at Rochelle’s food.
Mr. D'eath: Aren’t you going to finish your formaldehyde gravy?
Rochelle: I haven’t a taste or need for formaldehyde, seeing as I’m crafted from stone.
Mr. D'eath: Must be nice to be made of stone. Bones can be rather brittle and easy to break.
He let out an epic sigh while the girls sat there and watched him with worried looks. You used this chance to sneakily take the uneaten food and scrap it onto your plate.