The Final Exam (30 page)

Seated on the stage behind Mrs. Wellington were Abernathy, Schmidty, Macaroni, the cats, the sheriff, and Munchauser, all adorned in long silver gowns with matching caps. Directly in front of them, in the first row of the audience, was the graduating class, also dressed in shimmering silver gowns and caps.

“As you go out into the world, life will challenge you. There will be days when fear sneaks back into your mind. But when this happens, remember that I am always here, standing behind you. But more important, your classmates are standing next to you, bolstering you when you are weak and congratulating you when you are strong,” Mrs. Wellington said, shooting Schmidty a quick look, prompting the old man to waddle over with the basket of purple, lavender-scented diplomas.

“To avoid even the slightest insinuation of favoritism, I shall call the contestants’ names in alphabetical order,” Mrs. Wellington announced before pulling the first diploma from the basket. “Theodore Bartholomew.”

As his classmates and family cheered, Theo walked proudly onto the stage, stopping to shake the hands and paws of the entire School of Fear team, even Munchauser’s. Mrs. Wellington was far too forgiving to simply dismiss Munchauser; instead, she’d demoted him from lawyer to housekeeper.

Standing before Mrs. Wellington at the silver podium, Theo flashed his Vaseline-coated smile to the crowd before performing the traditional pageant wave.

“In light of your great accomplishment,” Mrs. Wellington stated while handing Theo the rolled lavender diploma, “I am erecting a Bartholomew family mausoleum at the Morristown cemetery so that even in death, you can always be with your family.”

Theo grabbed Mrs. Wellington, hugged her tightly, and mumbled, “This is the weirdest, most morbid gift I have ever received, and I love it!”

Theo exited the stage as Mrs. Wellington looked down at her list and called the next name.

“Garrison Feldman,” the old woman called as the audience clapped wildly. Once he, too, had shaken the hands and paws of all seated onstage, Garrison also gave a Vaseline-covered smile and a pageant wave. “In
light of your tremendous achievement, I award you a month’s worth of surfing lessons with fellow alumnus and surfing great Laird Hamilton.”

“You rock, Mrs. Wellington!” Garrison replied before giving the old woman a quick hug.

“Hyacinth Hicklebee-Riyatulle,” said Mrs. Wellington, moving the ceremony along, “in light of your remarkable achievement, I present to you a piano, to be stored in a private room at the recreation center so you always have someplace to go and enjoy being alone.”

“You really are a super bestie! Like, the best bestie ever!” Hyacinth said as she and Celery, who was squatting atop her shoulder, exited the stage.

“Madeleine Masterson, in honor of your stupendous accomplishment, I give you the rare turquoise spider,” Mrs. Wellington said, pulling out a miniature gilded cage from beneath the podium. Inside, a small and incredibly furry turquoise spider slept atop a leopard-print pillow. “Outside of English bulldogs, turquoise spiders are believed to be the most loving and loyal of pets.”

“I shall treasure my new friend, although I shall do it from a distance of a few feet, thank you,” Madeleine said sweetly before walking offstage.

“Lucy ‘Lulu’ Punchalower, to celebrate your outstanding and impressive achievement, I present you with a month’s worth of private flying lessons in the
Adobe Hornet,
the world’s smallest plane.”

After a quick Vaseline smile and a pageant wave, Lulu bumped Mrs. Wellington’s fist, winked, and returned to her seat.

“This isn’t the end of the journey, but rather just the beginning,” Mrs. Wellington said, wiping away tears.

Amid cheers and thunderous applause, the five School of Fearians threw their caps in the air and huddled together for an impromptu group hug. They would always have one another, bonded forever by School of Fear and the journey of a lifetime.

TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT
GITTY DANESHVARI’S NEWEST SERIES

MONSTER HIGH
GHOULFRIENDS FOREVER

n
estled deep within the lush forests of Oregon was a small and seemingly average town. Much like any other town in America, it had shops, restaurants, small family homes, and, of course, schools. So normal was the appearance of the town that it was actually quite forgettable. Every year countless travelers passed through without giving it so much as a second thought, utterly unaware that there was anything extraordinary or unique about the place. But, of course, had anyone stopped for a closer inspection, it would have become readily apparent
that the town of Salem catered to a rather specific clientele—monsters!

And while one might think that a town of monsters was terribly intriguing, it wasn’t. Salem had long puttered by with nary a scandal or drama outside of the occasional spat over which cemetery would host the Dance of the Delightfully Dead, a celebration of the happily departed. In fact, so unremarkable was the community that the most exciting thing on the horizon was the start of a new semester at Monster High.

Bright and early Monday morning, the well-worn wrought-iron gates to Monster High creaked open to a fast-approaching blitz of bodies. Amid the throngs of monster students was a petite gray gargoyle outfitted in a delightful pink linen dress with a Scaremès scarf wrapped stylishly around her waist as a belt. Moving carefully through the crowd, the young girl minded her Louis Creton
luggage and her pet griffin, Roux, but mostly her own two hands. As gargoyles are crafted of stone, they are burdened with both extreme heaviness and terribly sharp claws. And the last thing she wanted to do was snag her dress on the first day at a new school.

“
Pardonnez-moi
, madame,” Rochelle Goyle called out in a charming Scarisian accent as she crested the building’s front steps. “I do not wish to impose upon your business, but might you be looking for this?”

Rochelle bent down, picked up a raven-haired head with crimson lips, and handed it to the imposing headless figure standing next to the main doorway.

“Child, thank you! I keep forgetting my head, both figuratively and literally! You see, I was recently struck by lightning, and it’s left me with a spot of what the doctor calls muddled mind. But
not to worry, it won’t last forever,” Headmistress Bloodgood said upon remounting her head on her neck. “Now then, do I know you? In my current condition, I find it hard to remember faces or names or, if I am to be honest, almost anything.”

“No, madame, you definitely do not know me. I am Rochelle Goyle from Scaris, and I shall be living in the new dormitory on campus.”

“I am awfully thrilled that our reputation as the premier monster academy has attracted so many international students. You’ve come from Scaris, have you? However did you get here? I hope not atop the back of your sweet-faced griffin,” Headmistress Bloodgood said while pointing to Rochelle’s peppy little pet.

“Paragraph 11.5 of the Gargoyle Code of Ethics advises against sitting atop furniture, never mind pets! We came via Werewolf Hairlines, a most reliable company; the planes even come equipped
with reinforced steel seats for those of us made of stone,” Rochelle said as she looked down at her slim but weighty figure. “Madame, might I bother you for direction to the dormitory?”

Before Headmistress Bloodgood could respond, however, Rochelle was thrown to the ground by what felt like a wall of water. Hard, damp, and extremely cold, an unknown entity instantly covered both Rochelle and Roux in a dense, misty fog. Looking up from the floor, she saw short, rotund woman with gray hair storming through the crowd like a tsunami, knocking over everything within a five-foot radius.

“Miss Sue Nami?” Headmistress Bloodgood called out as the watery woman rammed an unsuspecting vampire into a wall.

Upon hearing Headmistress Bloodgood’s high-pitched voice, Miss Sue Nami turned and stomped back, leaving a path of puddles in her
wake. Up close, Rochelle couldn’t help but notice the woman’s permanently pruned skin, crisp blue eyes, and unflattering stance. With her legs a foot apart and her hands perched on her shapeless hips, the woman very much reminded Rochelle of a wrestler, albeit a male wrestler.

“Yes, ma’am?” Miss Sue Nami barked in a piercingly loud voice.

“This young lady is one of our new boarders, so would you mind showing her to the dormitory?” Headmistress Bloodgood asked Miss Sue Nami before turning back to Rochelle. “You are in good hands. Miss sue Nami is the school’s new Deputy of Disaster.”

Fearing that students might take advantage of her temporary state of abentmindedness, especially where detentions in the dungeon were concerned, the headmistress had recently brought in Miss Sue Nami to handle all disciplinary matters.

“Nonadult entity, grab your bag and your toy and follow me,” Miss Sue Nami screeched at Rochelle.

“Roux is not a toy but my pet griffin. I do not wish to mislead you—or anyone else, for that matter. Gargoyles take the truth very seriously.”

“Lesson number one: When your mouth moves, you are talking. Lesson number two: When your legs move, you are walking. If you cannot do them simultaneously, then please focus only on the latter,” Miss Sue Nami snapped around before turning around and marching through the school’ colossal front door.

Upon entering the hallowed halls of Monster high, Rochelle was instantly overwhelemed with a serious case of homesickness. Everything around her looked and felt terribly unfamiliar. She was used to lush fabric-covered walls, ornate gold-leafed moldings, and enormous crystal
chandeliers. But then again her last school, École de Gargouille, was housed in a chateau that was once the residence of the count of Scaris. So, as one might expect, Rochelle was rather shocked by Monster High’s modern purple-checkered floors, green walls, and pink coffin-shaped lockers. Not to mention the elaborately carved headstone, just inside the main doors, that reminded students it was against school policy to howl, molt fur, bolt limbs, or wake sleeping bats in the hallways.

“
Pardonnez-moi
, Miss Sue Nami, but are there really bats? As I am sure you know, bats can carry a wide variety of illnesses, “Rochelle said. Her short gray legs worked overtime to keep up with the stampeding wet women.