Monster High: A New Start (Male Reader)

Spine-Chilling Sabotage

You shoulder-leaned on the bathroom door, grateful that you had three minutes to pee before undead-language arts class. One more class until the weekend, not that it really mattered. There would be no time for sleeping in. No time for a “halfway decent latte search” with Clawdeen or a rom-com rental with Draculaura.

Not when you had to screen every single interview you’d shot over the last eight days. Not when Ross, the guy from Channel 58, was expecting a rough cut on Monday so he could give notes. Not when it aired on Thursday.

You stepped out of the bathroom just as Cleo exited the girl's bathroom and clomped toward her locker in her platform wood sandals. Gold triangles swung from her ears in perfect time with the flounce of the hem on her black and emerald-green mini. Her figure-skater style, emphasis on figure, was so uniquely her own, so incredibly flattering.

You awkwardly stood there before you decided to try and mend things. Be the bigger person.

Y/N: Hey....Cute dress.

Cleo slammed a book into her locker, making a loud bang sound.

She clearly blamed you for the botched Teen Morgue shoot, for the falling-out with her friends, and simply for having been born a normie. But it was easier to attract queen bees with honey than with vinegar, so you forced yourself to be sweet.

Y/N: You know, I totally knew you were in here, ’cause I smelled your amber perfume, which is cool. Statistically girls with a signature scent are more ambitious than girls without signature scents.

Cleo responded with another loud noise.

Stay sweet… stay sweet… stay sweet…

Y/N: At lunch today, your friends were saying how much they missed you.

That was actually a lie. Lagoona mentioned how nice it felt to not have Cleo around at least three times. Clawdeen also saw her talking to some normies at the ice cream shop, so she pretty much wrote her off.

Cleo finally made eye contact.

Cleo: Oh, so you’re sitting with them everyday now too?

Obviously, Cleo felt threatened. If ever there was a time for some peacekeeping sweetness, it was now. But all you could taste was vinegar.

Y/N: What’s your problem?! I’m just trying to help, and you act like I’m the Roman Empire or something.

Cleo’s eyes widened to a warning. But you couldn’t stop. Assertiveness, combined with your ability to work in a historical metaphor, gave you more confidence than a figure-skater outfit ever could.

Y/N: I’m not trying to dethrone you. I’m just......Look. I never meant to come between anyone. I’m just standing up for what I believe in.

Cleo: So am I.

Y/N: How? By choosing a fashion shoot? Is that all that matters to you? What about equal rights and....

Cleo stomped her foot.

Cleo: What are you talking about? Have you seriously lost your mind? Did the zombies get you too?

You were taken back by the comment. You immediately thought to Ghoulia. How could she say something like that so casually?

Y/N: What?

You searched Cleo’s blue eyes for an explanation. A wink, a tear, a sign, a clue floating your way before you drowned in confusion. But Cleo offered nothing. Her gaze was hard and cold.

You slowly shook your head.

Y/N: You know what? Screw you. I'm done trying to be nice. You sound just like those worthless Hellscrea...