Frankie smiled, nervously. Starting secondary school was hard enough without doing primary. She was excited though, sparking at the bolts. Who would she meet, what clubs would she join? She tugged at her sleeves and reminded herself that you couldn't learn everything from magazines. So long as she didn't fall apart she was set. Fretting, she walked up the steps, the students all looked so comfortable, no face worried except her own. Remember Frankie, she told herself, skullettes were the ultimate accessory and plaid was totally voltage. She looked great but didn't feel it. She smiled one last time and knocked on the Headmistresses door, zapping the bronze doorknob.
Clawdeen growled, flea powder! She didn't have them and it always made her look paler then she was. Sitting in class bored out of her mind really did great for her creative juices. She didn't mind Scath, you needed to know numbers to successfully run a fashion chain, but scalegebra at the start of the year, preposterous! She glanced across the room; there was a girl she didn't recognise, whose style, she had to admit was fierce. Rich colours of plaid contrasted with a lot of black, made the girl as radiant as the half moon, a splash more colour in the hair and the girl would've looked full. Growling one last time she let her face fall into pile of textbooks and impending homework.
Draculaura scanned over book after book, she was determined to get good grades in order so her father would allow her to have a fangtastic party. Whats the point in turning 1600, if you can't have a party with at least that many guests? Werecreatures were boring to be studying and grossip seemed more important, who wanted to study werewolves and werebears when you could be finding out if the two were dating? Not her. She scanned over the book, learning about the most exotic of werecreatures, boring... And what the fang was a wereboar? She readjusted her necklace and descended into a myriad of werewolves and bleeping ICoffins.