It happened just the way it did in cartoons. Only instead of a silly wabbit following the buttery-rich smell of warm chicken, Melody caught wind of a tune.
It began softly, a lyrical yawn. And expanded into haunting, drawn-out notes that lasted as long as an exhale and then trailed off like smoke. They sounded effortless, like breathing. Yet inspired, like poetry. Can anyone else at the party hear this? It seemed unlikely, with the music blaring. So why could she?
Clawdeen had been whisked away by her mother. Melody had started following them toward the elm tree….
But the music—it was entering her now. Seeping into her pores, like sweating in reverse. Swelling and fading… swelling and fading… keeping perfect time with the rise and fall of Melody’s abdomen. Her heart had become its metronome; its voice, her master. And this master wanted her out of there.
Gentle but sure, the tune drew her along like a lazy river’s current. Melody followed its call down Radcliffe Way. Her thoughts no longer ricocheted between Jackson and Clawdeen. The music was all she heard. All she wanted to hear. Her mind was empty, peaceful. She could have followed the sound for days.
But it stopped immediately after she knocked on the door to the white cottage. The lazy river turned back into a stormy sea, sloshing her thoughts around like ill-fated sailors.
What am I doing here?
The woman with the seafoam-green eyes was the last person Melody wanted to see. An I-told-you-so lecture was useless at this point. She was all too aware of destiny’s fragility. She had watched it come crashing down all over Clawdeen. Jackson’s leaving would be Melody’s cosmic punishment. And she would accept it with grace.
As she turned to leave, the door opened. Surprisingly, the eyes that greeted her were hazel.
“Melody?”
“Ms. J?” she said. And then, “Omigod, Ms. J!” Not caring whether she was crossing a boundary or not, she pulled the woman in for a hug. “What are you doing here? Is this real? Are you real?” she asked, not letting go.
“Yes, it’s real.” Ms. J laughed.
“But how—?”
“We were about to take off when I got a message from Mr. D. It seems as though everyone is ready to take a stand.” She smiled, her red matte lipstick perfectly intact, as always. “And you know what they say about safety in numbers.”
Why didn’t Jackson tell me? Why didn’t he…
“Jackson’s in the shower,” Ms. J said. “You can come in and wait if you want. I know he’ll be happy to see you.”
“That’s okay,” Melody said, tired of feeling pathetic. If Jackson wanted to talk to her, he would have called. And he hadn’t. “Things are kind of crazy at Clawdeen’s, so—”
“It’s not his fault, Melody.”
“Huh?” she asked, with a firefly’s flash of hope.
“It’s mine.” The teacher sighed. “I blasted him with heat for two weeks straight.”
“What?”
“Jackson would have found a way to contact you, and it was crucial no one knew where we were hiding,” Ms. J said. “Not even you.”
“So you turned him into D.J.?”
“Yup. It was nice, actually. We bonded. And Jackson doesn’t remember a thing. But the poor guy was sweaty.”
Melody laughed. Jackson was upstairs taking a shower!
What if she hadn’t invited those normies to Clawdeen’s Sassy? Would he still be upstairs taking a shower? Would Clawdeen have eventually found another excuse to go public? If she had, would her brothers have joined her? Would Lala and Cleo? Would it have ended the same way—with the support of the entire community? Would it have brought Jackson home?
It was impossible to know. But it certainly made a great case for messing with destiny.
“What happened to the woman who was living here?” Melody asked.
“You really took a shine to each other, didn’t you?”
“Not really, no.”
“Oh,” Ms. J said, turning away from the door. She quickly returned with a sealed envelope. “Well, she left this for you.”
“Really?”
“Come in and sit. I’ve got some unpacking to do. Jackson will be right down.”
Melody followed Ms. J inside the chilly home and settled into the dusty velvet couch in the living room. It hugged her like a long-lost friend.
Once alone, she opened the letter. A feather—olive and blue, with a golden tip—fell out and landed in her lap.
Relieved, Melody buried her face in her hands and began to laugh. It was the last reaction she thought she’d have to a note like this. But the weight of a hundred questions had been lifted, leaving her giddy and light. It all made sense: her voice, the feathers, Marina, her parents, her place in the world. Her place in the community. Her place in Jackson’s heart. She had her answers. And each one proved the same thing: that she was loved.
Upstairs the pipes squeaked, and the shower stopped running. Jackson was drying off. He wouldn’t smell like pastels when he hugged her; he would smell like soap. They wouldn’t talk about where he’d been but rather where they were going. And they wouldn’t need to find Melody’s place among the RADs; they would know. She was a Siren. She belonged with them.
Melody thought back to the day she had arrived in Salem. She’d gazed out the window of her father’s BMW, thinking that the minute she stepped out of the car she’d be starting a new life. Now, with the sound of Jackson’s footsteps creaking overhead and Marina’s letter clutched in her hand, she realized she had been wrong. Her new life hadn’t started then.
It was starting now.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter 1: On the L.A.M.B.
Chapter 2: Fright or Flight
Chapter 3: Under the Influence
Chapter 4: Pack Men
Chapter 5: The Heart Space Wants What the Heart Space Wants
Chapter 6: Mama Trauma
Chapter 7: Split, Shower, and Shave
Chapter 8: Hooky Monster
Chapter 9: Looty Call
Chapter 10: Lord of the Fleas
Chapter 11: Going Gaga
Chapter 12: J Walking
Lost Chapter: (Whose Unlucky Number Shall Go Unmentioned)
Chapter 14: Meat, Pray, Love
Chapter 15: Rad to the Bone
Chapter 16: The O.C.
Chapter 17: Power Failure
Chapter 18: A Whirlwind Bromance
Chapter 19: Joe Ksonyou
Chapter 20: Mother Trucker
Chapter 21: Phaedin, Fade Out
Chapter 22: Hair Apparent
Chapter 23: Pain In the Sass
Chapter 24: Big Pack Attack
Chapter 25: The Shock Exchange
Chapter 26: Jacks-On!
ALSO BY LISI HARRISON
Copyright
*If claw was spelled with an e on the end, this would have been so clever. Instead, it lands in the “A for effort” category. Which, by the way, starts with an e. Just saying.
Also by
LISI HARRISON
Monster High
Monster High
The Ghoul Next Door
Alphas
Alphas
Movers and Fakers
Belle of the Brawl
Top of the Feud Chain
The Clique
The Clique
Best Friends for Never
Revenge of the Wannabes
Invasion of the Boy Snatchers
The Pretty Committee Strikes Back
Dial L for Loser
It’s Not Easy Being Mean
Sealed with a Diss
Bratfest at Tiffany’s
The Clique Summer Collection
P.S. I Loathe You
Boys R Us
Charmed and Dangerous: The Rise of the Pretty Committee
The Cliquetionary
These Boots Are Made for Stalking
My Little Phony
A Tale of Two
Pretties
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 by Mattel, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
MONSTER HIGH and associated trademarks are owned by and used under license from Mattel, Inc.
Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Poppy is an imprint of Little, Brown and Company.
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
First eBook Edition: September 2011
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-19162-3