Monster High: A New Start (Male Reader)

Hiding in Horror

As she'd suspected, the sudsy nest of hair and soap chips still clogged the shower drain. The hot water didn't shrink the clump as Clawdeen had hoped. Now, ankle deep in boy scum, she would have to reach into the tepid slough to remove the blockage, something she refused to do without a Hazmat suit. This situation made her miss the comforts of home, and her girly bathroom, even more.

The first night at the Hideout Inn-the family-owned restaurant and inn that encouraged guests to "unplug" with a strict no-TV-or-Internet policy-was a new record. Until now the Wolfs had spent the night only during their full-moon transitions. They posted a SORRY, ALL FULL sign, locked the doors, drew the blinds, and feasted.

Stays maxed out at twenty-four hours. The instant they switched back to normalish, the pack returned to Radcliffe Way, and the inn reopened to the public. Closing for any amount of time put a strain on their finances, since the steakhouse had been rated among the top ten restaurants in Salem for the past six years.

But this time, the strain was on Clawdeen's sanity. If she had to spend one more day sharing a bathroom with her brothers, she'd.......

Clawdeen: Ahhhh!

A gallon of ice-cold water splashed over her head.

Don: Dinner's ready!

He dropped a plastic milk jug onto the tiled floor. It landed with a hollow bounce. Howie burst out laughing, and then the two triplets took off, slamming the door behind them.

Shivering and disgusted, Clawdeen shut off the faucet.

Clawdeen: You're going to pay for this, Cleo. You too, Helsing.

She held her ex-friends responsible as she sidestepped anthills of stubble, clipped nails, and discarded underwear. Appetite-suppressing odors clung to her hair, a condition the perpetually upright toilet seat only made worse.

If her friends could see her now... what would they laugh at first? Her matted curls? Chipped nails? The ill-fitting brown HIDEOUT INN souvenir T-shirt from the gift shop? Probably the shirt. But what was she supposed to do? Her clothes were back home...along with her makeup, her privacy, and her life.

Downstairs in the restaurant, everything but the full moon was present and accounted for. The red velvet curtains, which Clawdeen had helped her mother make back when they first opened for business, kept the parking lot from view, giving guests the illusion that they were nestled inside a cozy dining room in the Alps, not a mere ten miles north of Salem just off the freeway.

Candles flickered inside sangria-colored votives. The tepee of logs in the stone fireplace was ablaze. Eighteen tables were set but unoccupied. Mom was in the kitchen heating up another batch of rolls. The guys were already eating, seated around a central circular table, deep in conversation and second helpings.

Clawrk: Hi, Deenie.

Her father's serious expression quickly melted into one of sticky sweetness.

Clawrk: How's my precious little pup?

Clawdeen: Hey, Dad.

She kissed the top of his head before sitting. Clawrk Wolf's lush black hair and thick eyebrows always made her think of Seth's father from The O.C.

Clawdeen: Do you think we can work on my driving this week? Two more weeks until I'm sixteen.

Clawrk: When I get back. I'm leaving for a construction job in Beaverton tomorrow. I'll be gone until Thursday.

Claqdeen: Anything good?

She was hoping for more industrial head nails, metal gates, or marble chunks. Or possibly something unexpected, like the mannequins from that old department store he'd demolished. Not that it really mattered. As long as she could DIY his trash into treasure, her video blog, "Where There's a Wolf, There's a Way", would keep gaining followers.