Frankie sat with her friends in the Creepateria, but she didn’t feel like eating. She couldn’t stop thinking about her project. The other girls were chatting away.

“Could somebody pass the dead sea salt?” asked Clawdeen. Beside her lunch tray was an open sketchbook filled with fashion ideas.

“I’ve got it!” said Draculaura, reaching for the salt at the same moment that Robecca also extended her hand.

“Sorry about that,” Robecca apologized.

“After you,” said Draculaura.

They both reached for the salt, knocked it over, and apologized to each other.

“Oh, for dying out loud!” Clawdeen grabbed it herself.

Lagoona noticed that Frankie was almost as blue as she was. “Don’t fret, love. A bad grade on your project isn’t the end of the world.”

“No, it’s not that, Lagoona.” Frankie sighed. “It’s just… you ghouls all seem to know so much about your scaritage. But I don’t know anything about mine.”

Ghoulia was examining Robecca’s mysterious mechanical box. Ghoulia could only speak in moans and groans, but she was still the cleverest student at Monster High.

“Can you not speak to your father about your family?” suggested Jinafire. She was part dragon and all spice.

Frankie shook her head. “My parents won’t talk about my grandfather. And any time I ask, my dad just gets into one of his moods and is all, you know…” She held up her arms and began making guttural noises like the classic stereotype of a Frankenstein monster.

Ghoulia was poking at the box. She held it up to her ear and listened to it.

Lagoona took a sip of her soup. “Ooh. Too cold.”

“Allow me.” Jinafire blew a blast of dragon breath into the bowl. Flames erupted.

“Much better,” said Lagoona sarcastically.

Suddenly Frankie’s face lit up. Neighthan and the Fusions were walking by with their trays. “Hey, guys,” she called. “Want to join us?”

Neighthan began walking toward the table. “That would be—”

“Unnecessary,” sneered Avia Trotter, stopping him. “We’ve already got a table, thanks.”

Neighthan looked back over his shoulder at Frankie, clearly disappointed.

Cleo was not impressed. “Rude much? No wonder they got kicked out of eight different schools.”

Robecca was lost in thought. She was trying to see if there was some way she could help Frankie with her project. After all, Frankie’s grandfather had been a student of her father’s. “You know, I wish there were some way we could find my father’s workshop in the catacombs. He used to keep a journal about everything. I bet he wrote about your grandfather.”

“Do you remember where it is?” asked Draculaura.

Robecca closed her eyes and concentrated. Her gears sped up. She whirred and clanked and steamed a little. She opened her eyes. “If I really fire on all cylinders, I think I might be able to find it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Venus McFlytrap. Her excitement caused the salad in front of her to sprout vines that climbed off her tray and crept onto Clawdeen’s sketchbook.

“Venus, you’re doing it again. You know I don’t do salad.” Clawdeen, a total carnivore, swiped the vine and cut it off. She studied her sketchbook, displeased. She could not solve this one style problem. “I just can’t figure out his new look. Maybe a little trip to the catacombs will help me find some inspiration.”

Toralei, the gossip-loving werecat, overheard her and came over to the table. “What’s this I hear about a mystery trip to the catacombs? I’m so there,” she purred. She sidled in next to Cleo. “Scooch.”

“Um, hello,” said Cleo, pushing Toralei away. “This is my space. And why would you want to come with us to the catacombs, Toralei?”

“I’m a curious kitty,” she said. “Now let’s go find that… whatever it is we’re finding.” She brushed up against Cleo just like a cat as all the ghouls stood up. Frankie lingered for a moment before leaving the Creepateria. The Fusions were sitting alone at a table in the corner.

Clawdeen took Frankie by the arm. “All right, loverghoul, let’s go.”

Across the room, Neighthan watched Frankie leave with her friends. “I don’t see why we couldn’t sit with them. Those ghouls seemed nice.”

Bonita was nervously chewing on the edge of her sleeve.

“Don’t be dense, Neighthan,” said Avia. “Regular monsters don’t want anything to do with us Fusions. You know how it works. We change schools, get pushed around for a few weeks, then it’s off to find another school. This place will be no different.”

But Neighthan didn’t agree with her. “Come on, Avia, Monster High is supposed to be different than those other schools. They say everyone is welcome here. Even if they have a freaky flaw.”

Bonita pulled her sleeve out of her mouth. “Yeah, flaw… not flaws. They don’t understand what it’s like to have two. Right, Sirena? Sirena?”

But Sirena wasn’t listening. She was piling up her mashed potatoes like wet sand to make a little castle. “Huh? Oh. Yes. I agree with all of you.” She didn’t even look up.

Avia Trotter shook her head. “You got distracted again.”

“No, I just…” Sirena noticed the potatoes on Avia’s plate. “Hey, are you going to finish those?”

Avia sighed and pushed her tray across the table. Sirena happily began adding turrets to her potato castle. Sometimes even Avia got tired of Sirena’s freaky flaws.