"About last night-" They both began at the same time.
"You first," said Twyla.
Frankie coughed, covering her mouth with an elbow even though its hand, which was busy folding chocolate chips into pancake batter, happened to be several yards away. The main kitchen in the Boogeyman's house was massive, with double-height ceilings, a real stone oven, and mid-century Frigidaire in an incongruous shade of baby pink.
"Well, I know it was a little chilly last night, but I'm still sorry for being so… handsy. They have a mind of their own." At this, the aforementioned hand dropped its spoon to give a little wave. "And one of them was Frida Kahlo's."
"No big deal," said Twyla. "And I'm sorry about all the, you know… speaking in tongues and levitation. I should have warned you that I talk in my sleep."
"Don't even worry about it." Frankie waved a hand dismissively and got a little pancake batter on the wall. "Um, are your nightmares always that… bad?"
"Oh, no," she said. "Only when it's especially embarrassing."
Frankie stopped stirring. "Twyla, I don't know much about Boogey Monsters, and sometimes I have trouble understanding what's abnormal for the monsters I do know about, but if this is abnormal for you, then…. maybe that's not… abnormal? Did that make sense? That didn't make sense, did it? I know it's largely a difference of vernacular, but I speak Monster as a second language since Mom and Dad always used Human at home."
Twyla rescued the batter. "It's really no big deal. Just a little too much negative energy lately. Like turning pink if you eat too much shrimp."
"Is that what happened to Draculaura?" Frankie seemed sufficiently distracted, muttering to herself while she let Twyla disarm her of the spatula as well. "I always wondered since other vampires don't tend to be quite so rosy. She's vegetarian, but does that include crustaceans? What did she say when Carcinus attacked? 'No food with a central nervous system.' So not a pescetarian, but if she fed on the carotenoid producing algae that turns shrimp pink in the first place, then perhaps…."
At this point, Frankie's muttering became unintelligible, a kind of white noise that Twyla found a little too relaxing. She let three pancakes burn, and accidentally made two of them in the shape of a heart.
The Ghouls shared a multi-course breakfast, mostly due to all the failed attempts, that lasted until just before noon. Frankie insisted on doing the dishes since she'd gotten distracted during the preparation. Twyla asked the House to hide the kitchen, but she was starting to suspect it liked Frankie best.
Frankie had to leave after that; she had been forcibly volunteered for a planning committee by Clawdeen. Something about another school dance. Twyla had never been to one before, not even in the shadows, but she promised Frankie to at least consider attending with the Ghoul Squad.
Twyla would have thought she was still dreaming, except her dreams had never been so nice.
Her father came home a few hours later, stumbling slightly, and smelling of araq again.
She avoided him as usual, keeping to the shadow realm when he was physical and vice versa. The House helped too. They could go weeks without seeing each other.
Unless her father wanted to see her, but that only happened when Twyla was in trouble, and she had eliminated every piece of evidence from her creepover. She had put away the dishes, cleaned the pancake batter off the wall, and humidified everything Frankie had touched to remove static electricity.
Somewhere upstairs, a door slammed so hard it shook the House.
It came from the direction of the… fourth floor… closet, where Dustin liked to nap sometimes in the after-
Freak.
She had forgotten about Dustin.