Cleo De Nile and the Creeperific Mummy Makeover Page 2

  Sensing something was wrong, Cleo spun around. Frankie was crouched behind the ghouls’ usual lunch table, her eyes the only thing Cleo could see peeking up over the edge of the table. Draculaura had already dashed away to meet up with Clawd before afternoon classes started. Cleo rushed back to the table, her face etched with concern. “Frankie?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. “Did you… fall?”

  “Um,” Frankie muttered. “Not exactly.”

  “Let me help you get up off the floor!” Cleo said, reaching out to lend a hand to her friend. She was glad Frankie hadn’t fallen but horrified by the thought that Frankie’s adorable outfit was rubbing against all the screechza stains on the Creepateria floor.

  Frankie smiled meekly. “I—I—” she began.

  “You what?” Cleo said, urging her ghoulfriend to speak up. In her many years of life, Cleo had learned that you most often got what you needed when you asked for—or demanded—it.

  Frankie bit her lip and said, “I, um, kind of ripped my skirt?”

  “Let me see,” Cleo ordered.

  Frankie held up one corner of her skirt—an adorable, pleated black-and-white plaid—and grinned sheepishly. “It’s bad.”

  Cleo put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the situation. “It is bad.” Frankie’s skirt had torn all the way up one side of her leg.

  “I’ll figure it out,” Frankie said in a rush, tears filling her eyes. “No big deal. Once everyone leaves the Creepateria, I’ll just sneak over to Headmistress Bloodgood’s office. Maybe they have a spare skirt or pants I can borrow until the end of the school day.”

  “Oh my Ra, no,” Cleo said, horrified. “You are not borrowing pants from the school office. Seriously, Frankie.”

  “Why not?”

  Cleo began to laugh. “Total fashion disaster.” She held out her hand again, urging Frankie to take it. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll sneak you out of here now, and we can try to do something to patch you up until the end of the day. I’m a pro at wrapping, so we should be able to figure something out to make this work for at least a few hours.”

  “Seriously, Cleo?” Frankie said as the warning bell rang. “You’ll be late to class! And with everything you need to do to prepare for your mom’s homecoming, and getting ready for the ball—you can’t risk getting in trouble with the headmistress for being late to class.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cleo said, waving her off. “I never do anything I don’t want to do. Now, come with me. Let’s handle this fashion disaster in true de Nile style.”

  Preparations for my mother’s surprise welcome-home ball are well under way. Father and Nefera and I have been working overtime telling our servants what to do to ensure that everything will be absolutely perfect. I can’t believe she’ll already be here tomorrow. I wish we could have the ball on her first night home (what a way to be welcomed to the Boo World!), but Father suggested we wait until the weekend so more people can attend. He also said we should give her some time to adjust to her new surroundings. That makes sense, but I hate waiting.

  It has been monstrously difficult working with my sister on plans for the event. She and I have very different tastes. I am sure my choices are the right ones, yet I have to fight with Nefera over every single little detail. We’ve been disagreeing about everything—the band, the food, the colors of the custom-sewn drapes in the ballroom, the shape of the ice cubes that will be served with drinks… you name it, we’ve discussed and disagreed about it!

  Deuce keeps telling me none of this is very important in the grand scheme of things—that it’s not the details of a party that are going to matter to Mother, it’s the time she’ll finally get to spend with us. But he’s wrong. The party will totally matter. I’m not saying that material things and events are the only things that are important, but parties are essential! An elaborate welcome-home celebration is the perfect way to show Mother just how much we’ve missed her while she’s been gone.

  I’m sure Mother’s standards for a royal ball will be even higher than either mine or Nefera’s, so it’s been pretty stressful preparing everything. This has to be the most special, most golden party in the history of parties!

  There is one other thing I’ve been worrying about these past few days.…

  I almost don’t even want to admit it, but here goes.…

  It is somewhat possible that my memories of Mother are a bit fuzzy. Of course, it’s impossible to believe that I could be wrong about something, but it’s been a really long time since Mother and I were together, and a lot has happened in the years she’s been away.

  I have a pretty clear recollection of many little moments with her, like when she would let me try on her jewels, but I’m not entirely sure all the details of my memories are totally accurate. I’ve heard that your mind remembers the things you want to remember but forgets the other stuff. It has been years since we’ve seen her, so what if I’m misremembering something important?

  Or what if… like Draculaura said… what if she’s changed? I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

  Cleo

  Hel-lo!” A soft, melodic voice echoed through the halls of the de Nile palace. From her bedroom, Cleo could hear the gentle click-clack of footsteps in the front entryway. She glanced at the time—her mom wasn’t due for two more hours, but it seemed that maybe she was early! De Niles generally prefer to be fashionably late, but Cleo was relieved her mother hadn’t kept them waiting any longer. They had already been waiting decades too long to see her!

  Cleo glanced in the mirror as she ran from her bedroom to greet her. What would her mother see when they finally came face-to-face again after all these years? What kinds of things would she ask her about, and would she be proud of the person Cleo had become? Would Cleo be fangtastic enough for her glamorous mother?

  Dismissing her concerns, Cleo hustled through the palace to say hello. She raced through the upper levels, down the front stairs, and came to a stop near the front door. “Mother?” she called out.

  “Cleo, darling,” said a disheveled-looking woman standing beside Ramses de Nile. The woman was wearing a pair of too-short jeans and a faded T-shirt with a loose, button-up shirt over the top, and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail.

  Cleo squinted. “Mother?”

  “Oh, darling,” the woman said. Her voice was becoming more familiar to Cleo. “It is so wonderful to see you again. I have missed you so much!” The woman stepped forward and pulled Cleo into a hug that felt strangely familiar. As Cleo let the woman pull her close, she tried to super-impose the memories of her mother on this… stranger who was in her house now.

  Cleo’s mother had been tall, just like this woman.

  The newcomer had dark hair, just as Cleo’s mother had. But Cleo remembered that her mother’s hair had been long and silky, always styled in an elaborate braid with golden headbands and scarves.

  The mother Cleo remembered was always wearing skirts and dresses, her clothing so weighted down with jewels and beads that Cleo had wondered sometimes how she hadn’t fallen over during parties and dances. The woman standing before her now was wearing old jeans and a plain, button-up shirt!

  “Mother?” Cleo whispered again as they looked each other over. “Is that… you?”

  Cleo’s mother laughed. “Yes, it is I. Much has changed since we last saw each other, Cleo. Let’s get some snacks; we have much to catch up on!”

  Ramses de Nile put his hand on his wife’s arm. He too looked somewhat surprised—but also happier than Cleo had seen him in many years. Clearly, he could see past the wrinkled shirt and uncombed hair to the woman he had loved long ago. “You must be exhausted from your journey,” he said, bowing slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to take a bath and get changed while the servants prepare our dinner? We usually sit down to our meal at seven.”

  “Don’t be silly, Ramses,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll just grab a snack from the kitchen. I don’t want to waste another minute before we get to chat about
everything that’s happened over the years!” She laughed, a low, melodic sound that brought Cleo back hundreds of years.

  “It is you,” Cleo whispered, smiling at her mother.

  “I am well aware that much about me has changed,” Cleo’s mother said with a smile. “But underneath my wrappings, I’m still very much the same mummy. Now, where is your sister? Let’s find her, then we can get ourselves a snack and catch up on everything!”

  A short while later, Cleo, Nefera, and their father sat stiffly on the edge of settees and chaise longues in the formal living room, while their mom kicked her feet up and relaxed back into one of the chairs that were much more about fashion than function. She had prepared a snack of crackers, cheese, and grapes, laying everything out on a beautiful tray while the servants watched anxiously from one side of the kitchen.

  “Madam,” one of the servants had said nervously as Cleo’s mother made her way around the enormous chef’s kitchen. “Please, let us prepare something special for you. You should not be in here. This is our job.”

  “Nonsense,” Cleo’s mother said, waving him off. “Nothing special is necessary—I’m only digging up a snack! And I can certainly cut up my own cheese.”

  Nefera and Cleo had exchanged bewildered looks while they watched their mother get everything ready. Neither of the girls had ever cut a piece of cheese in their lives; they wouldn’t even know where to find the cheese cutter. Their mother, on the other hand, seemed perfectly comfortable traipsing around the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cabinets to find things. She acted as if she had been in there a million times, and she seemed to have a knack for finding just what she was looking for. Cleo watched as her mother composed a delicious-looking snack without so much as one question as to where to find something or whom to call to come wash the grapes.

  Now her mother was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room. It was a chair Cleo was pretty certain no one had ever sat in before. With her feet up and her arm slung casually over the arm of the chair, Dedyet de Nile actually looked comfortable. No one ever looked comfortable in the de Niles’ formal living room. Their decorator had designed it to look good, not feel good.

  “Do you know…” Cleo’s mother looked around the room as she munched on a cracker topped with cheese (cheese and crackers was a rather common snack, but still, Cleo felt her stomach rumble as she watched her mother eat it). Dedyet pointed to a very ancient-looking vase etched with markings and to a bowl encrusted with jewels. “… that some of the relics in this room are one-of-a-kind?”

  “But of course!” Ramses de Nile sputtered. As an antiques expert and a very rich man, Cleo’s father prided himself on one-of-a-kind relics and treasures. “We would never showcase anything but the finest in our palace, my dear. Surely you remember the history behind some of these pieces? They have been in our family dynasty for centuries.”

  “We should consider loaning some of our most unique pieces to a museum,” she said, gazing at a small figurine propped up on a bookcase. “It would be such a nice way to share our scaritage with other monsters.”

  Ramses de Nile’s eyes widened. Before he could protest, Cleo spoke up. One of her favorite things about Monster High was that she got to meet all kinds of monsters and learn about so many different scaritages. If they loaned some of their family relics to a museum, it would be a wonderful way to share the most beautiful parts of their Egyptian scaritage with even more monsters in the Boo World. “I love that idea, Mother.”

  Cleo’s mother smiled at her. “Cleo, darling, tell me about school. You must have many ghoulfriends? And are there… any mansters who have caught your eye?”

  Cleo blushed. She wasn’t ready to tell her mother about Deuce just yet. Cleo’s father had never approved of her boyfriend, since his background was so different from the de Niles’. Ramses de Nile refused to give up hope that Cleo would someday marry into a family just as important as theirs. She couldn’t seem to make him understand that for her, it wasn’t about class or upbringing, but about the monster lurking underneath that. “First, we want to hear about you, Mother,” Cleo said. “Please, tell us more of what happened after we were separated in Egypt. It must be such an exciting story—don’t leave out one detail!”

  Her mother sighed and stretched out like a sphinx. “There is so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Might as well start from the beginning,” said Nefera. “We have plenty of time.”

  “Well,” Cleo’s mother began, “while I was hiding out after the escape from our palace, I grew very bored and lonely. I was left alone for many weeks while the danger passed, and the only thing I had to fill my days were walls and walls of books. So I spent my days reading and learning more about ancient Egypt. During this time, I discovered inside myself a buried love of archaeology.” She paused and popped another grape into her mouth.

  Reluctantly, Cleo leaned forward and took a cracker with a piece of cheese off the tray. She lifted it to her mouth and took a timid bite. Crumbs fell in her lap, and Cleo quickly brushed them onto the floor. She ignored the horrified look Nefera shot her.

  Cleo’s mother went on, her eyes becoming more alive the more she talked, “During that time, I began to wonder what my life might have been like if I had been born into the working class, rather than into royal privilege. What trade might I have gone into? Is it possible I would have been one of the treasure hunters—the ones we call archaeologists—who believe it is a privilege to spend every day digging up treasures and artifacts from the past?”

  Nefera arched an eyebrow. “The privilege of digging? In the dirt? Wouldn’t you rather have the privilege of admiring these priceless artifacts from the comforts of your own palace?”

  “That is one nice way to enjoy relics,” the girls’ mother said. “In fact, it’s the only way I knew. And for a long time, while I was hidden away alone, I definitely missed all the comforts of the world I had grown accustomed to. But the longer I was separated from the lush lifestyle I had been living, I discovered I had an urge to learn and to contribute to the world.” She stopped and laughed—that same warm belly laugh Cleo could remember from years before—then went on, “Contribute in a bigger way than just hosting amazing parties.”

  “But amazing parties are important!” Nefera argued.

  “Of course parties are fun and important in their own way,” their mother agreed. “But there are many other things that are even more important. Learning from history, caring for others, contributing to society…”

  Cleo suddenly thought of the glamorous welcome-home ball she and her father and sister had been planning for that weekend. Would her mother truly enjoy it? And Cleo couldn’t help but wonder: Did her mother have anything to wear to a ball?

  “Well,” Cleo’s mother continued. “When, finally, it was safe for me to come out of hiding and rejoin the rest of you, I set out on my journey to the Boo World. But along the way, I came upon a team of archaeologists who needed some help. Part of their team hadn’t made it to the site, and they offered me the chance to join their crew. I missed you all very much, but in a life as long as ours is, a few weeks seemed such a small sacrifice. If I joined their dig, I would finally have a chance to contribute to society in a more important way.”

  “So what happened?” Cleo asked, totally captivated by her mother’s story. “Why has it been years, rather than weeks, since we last saw you?”

  Her mother smiled sadly. “Everything was going as expected on the dig. We found many interesting treasures in the tomb we had uncovered. While I was at the dig site, I learned far more in a few weeks than I had in all the books I read while I was in hiding. I also became very self-sufficient and learned that there are far worse things in the world than getting your hands dirty during a day’s work.”

  “I beg to differ,” muttered Nefera.

  “Just as we were about to wrap up our project,” Dedyet continued, ignoring Nefera’s comment, “tragedy struck. The small mouth of the tomb we we
re inside caved in, and the entire crew—including me—was trapped inside. It wasn’t until last week that we were discovered and freed.” She smiled at her family, then said with a flourish, “And now, I am finally home. And the next era of our lives can begin!”

  Oh my Ra, Mother’s arrival was quite a shock.

  Father, Nefera, and I had been expecting the mother we remembered from so many years ago.… And that certainly isn’t what we got!

  I am so confused. My mom seems very happy, but she’s so different. I can’t help but wonder… is there anything we have in common anymore? She and I have been living totally different lives all these decades. She talks about things like reading and studying, and while I do those things too (a ghoul has to keep up her grades!), I also love to shop and go to parties and fang out with my friends. I don’t think my mom enjoys those types of things anymore. What will she think of me when she realizes I am so different from her?

  Not only does she act different, Mom also looks totally different. She no longer seems to care about fashion—she was wearing jeans and a plain shirt! I had been so excited to show her my closet—it’s filled with the latest pieces from the Boo York runways—but I think maybe she doesn’t care about clothes anymore.

  How did this happen? And why did this happen?

  Mother donated all her jewels to a museum to say thank you after she and the other archaeologists were freed from the tomb. That was nice of her to do, but what jewels will she wear now?

  I can’t imagine what my ghoulfriends are going to say when they meet my mother.… I’ve been promising them royalty and glamour and elegance. The mummy who resurfaced is anything but.

  Oh. My. Ra. What am I going to do?

  Cleo