(AN: This is a miniature series I will hopefully expand more on. It's not too terribly plot-oriented, but instead expands on some moments in the Monster High students life. Either stuff that should have been elaborated more on, or stuff that should've happened. Hope you enjoy it!)
Chapter 1: Hungry Eyes
Frankie Stein could feel a familiar flush creep onto her cheeks, even as her salt and pepper hair hung in a thick veil to shield her eyes from the object of her distractions. Dead Languages was a difficult class to pay attention to when one was completely focused, but when you're constantly, almost painfully a pair of smoky amber eyes keep glancing up at you every few minutes, the class was nearly impossible.
With the steady beats of his latest mix leaking out of his headphones, Holt seemed as if he was jotting down notes of Mr. Rotter's latest lecture, which would be believable enough if his eyes didn't seem to constantly be drifting away to linger on a certain mint-skinned ghoul a row back. She wasn't the only one who noticed either. Clawdeen, one of Frankie's right hand ghouls snickered under her breath, elbowing her friend in the ribs. "Looks like somebody's got it bad for you, Frankie."
She opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't find the words that could convey just how confusing and, admittedly, slightly flattering the ordeal was. Whipping out her iCoffin, the Frankie raised her eyes to where her teacher stood at the podium, obviously too wrapped up in his own speech to pay any close attention to his students. Safe. Fingers flying over the keys, she sent a quick text to Clawdeen: u really think so?
Just as fast, Frankie's phone buzzed in her lap. oh like u havent noticed. i no what ur thinking, but u took a break from BOTH of them, remember frankie? they still havent worked n e thing out.
Clawdeen was right. It was some kind of werewolf superpower, you know, besides that whole animalistic full-moon thing. She was riddled with common sense, even though she usually never followed her own advice. Frankie scooted closer to Clawdeen, whispering in a low tone. "How do you know they haven't worked out their issues? Not like it changes anything. It wouldn't change anything, right?"
This Frankie and Jackson and Holt debacle had gone on for months, even after they took a break. The ghoul felt bad enough putting their romance of pause, she would awkwardly accept getting into situations that would probably just make things even messier. Jackson would invite her for "strictly studying only" dates that would lead to picnics in the park, Holt would dedicate entire shows to her, playing only her favorites for the entire night. She would always feel guilty as her feet tapped away to her favorites tunes, as if there were strings attached to each track. Even the homemade macaroni and cheese Jackson whipped up just tasted like shame. Delicious, cheesy shame. In the last few weeks, things had seemed to slow down, however. She could get along with both boys on a more platonic level, and feel comfortable doing so, but moments like these would remind Frankie of the romantic can of worms she opened, and the consequences that followed.
The werewolf's long claws drummed against her open notebook, which instead of featuring notes about why Manticore poetry should be classified as undead prose, was filled with sketches of flouncy skirts, killer shoes, and Mr. Rotter pulling off what Frankie considered to be an absolutely voltageous hat. "Look, I don't know what you're thinking but you better stop it before you get back into a situation you can't handle- and you can't." She held up one manicured finger nail before Frankie could protest. "He's cute. He's sweet, and you can look but you can't touch. Let's just leave it at that until you figure everything out."
She rolled her eyes, but nonetheless nodded and gave her friend a weak smile. Yeah, it was tough having monster crushes on two boys, but every single issue of Monster Beat magazine specifically told her that you can't give your heart to someone, until you knew it inside and out. Which she totally did! Or at least she thought so. Frankie realized the meant that metaphorically after a failed surgery attempt. She risked a glance at Holt in the row above her, and immediately felt sparks as their eyes met. Instead of becoming flustered or looking away, the half-elemental simply gave the ghoul a cheeky wink, running fingers through his fiery locks before tilting his head back to jot something down on the page in front of him.
There. See? It wasn't that bad. She was so totally over him. Even if it felt like her heart was performing gymnastics. She turned back to her friend, a cocky smirk plastered on her face, only to find Clawdeen texting like a fiend instead of applying a new coat of paint to her nails or 'in the moment' with a latest idea for a line. Frankie raised one suspicious eyebrow at her, scooching her chair closer to peer over Clawdeen's shoulder. "Something interesting going on?" The werewolf quickly covered up her phone, giving a wide-eyed shrug.
"I do not know what you are talking about, Frankie." she spoke slowly, in the monotone voice of the obviously guilty. Stealing glances from her friend over to Draculaura, the cheery vampire sitting two rows behind them, Clawdeen tried to give Frankie her trademark big puppy eyed stare. Right, as if she hadn't caught onto that already. Frankie hadn't been born yesterday. ...Though in reality, it hadn't been too long ago either. The daughter of Frankenstein glanced over her shoulder at the vampire behind her. Dressed in a hurricane of pink as usual, Draculaura seemed to be nibbling on a fingernail with her tiny fangs. Was she nervous about something? The odd behavior between the two of them didn't add up. Were they really going to make a big deal over a few shared glances in class? Either way, it wasn't as if Frankie had done anything wrong. She and Holt were strictly friends now.
She could hear Mr. Rotter finishing up his lecture, which concluded with more hacking than usual. This was way too heavy for a Moanday, she thought. Deciding to spend her study howl wrapped up in the latest issue of Teen Scream to de-stress, Frankie began packing up her books to head off to her next period. She caught Clawdeen before she could hustle out the door to check her make-up, falling in step with the fierce canine.
"What was that all about back there," she said, eyebrows raising in interest.
Clawdeen sighed loudly, heels clicking as they both meandered over to their lockers "Sorry, I just got kinda worried when you started making googly eyes at Holt Hyde."
Charged with self-satisfaction at being right, a few self-congratulatory sparks flew out of the bolts in Frankie's neck "I knew it! C'mon, you guys are overreacting. I'm not going to mess up a good thing just because of a few looks in class. ...And I was not googly-eyed!"
Clawdeen snorted, shoving her books into her locker before pulling out a tube of Goreal lip gloss. "Sure, sure, and my little brother didn't spend all afternoon barking at squirrels."
"No, I mean it! It was just... regular eyed!" Frankie kept protesting as the two waited for the third member of their usual crew to show up. Draculaura was usually never far behind from her bloodies. Before too long, the petite ghoul came running up to them, brushing stray hair out of her face.
"Sorry, sorry! ...Wow, you two... are fast walkers." She huffed, her hands resting on her knees for a moment as she paused to catch her breath. Draculaura slumped against her locker, and relished the fact that she had a few moments to wait as her friends rustled through their belongings.
"Everything okay?" Frankie tilted her head, looking at her close friend with concern.
Draculaura perked up, her coal black lips forming a tiny smile. "No, yeah it's just these new boots. I saw them at Forever 2100 at the maul and I could've just died. Right. There. I mean, I could've but, you know, I'm immortal. Well, anyway, I tried them on and they fit like a dream except they're totes uncomfortable to walk in. The gorgon at the cash register said they should break in, like, eventually but until then I have to wobble around in them all day." She paused, taking a breath after her little speech. "But it's so worth it. Aren't they adorbs?"
"Totally!" Frankie chirped, Clawdeen nodding in agreement, "But, um, shouldn't you only buy a pair of shoes if they fit you well?" Fashion was growing on her in the short time she'd been alive, but sometimes Frankie was simply boggled by the lengths people would go just to have a killer outfit.
Waving her off, Draculaura started down the hallway. "Well yeah, usually, but this was totally an exception. I mean, what wouldn't you do for shoes this cute?" She kicked up her heel at that for emphasis, showing off the pink platforms that added a good four inches to the vampire's tiny frame. Even with that extra boost, the top of Draculaura's head still barely made it up to Clawdeen's shoulder.
Clawdeen swung her hips as they passed monsters in the hall, grinning as fashion was a language that she spoke fluently. "Mmhm. No pain, no gain."
The two began talking about plans for an upcoming dance, but Draculaura tuned them out. Hugging her Clawculous textbook tightly to her chest, a wave of guilt crashed down on the ghoul. It was wrong to steal, obviously. But this was to help her friends, so it wasn't like she was doing it out of spite. Plus, it didn't really count as stealing if she gave it right back, right? Chewing her lower lip nervously, thoughts of doubt began swarming in the vampire's mind.