Top Of The Feud Chain is out!!!! FIND OUT HOW THE ALPHAS SERIES ENDS!!!!!(and now back to Monster High)…

The Monster High Facebook  www.facebook.com/MonsterHigh was raging full force last week! Friday the 13th is a huge rallying day for Monster High fans so we celebrated by releasing a voltage monster building Facebook App called Monsterfy Yourself Here's my creation. I call her Lisi Scarrison.

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Jellies? Don't be! You can create one too by going to the site.

What's really cool about the monster creations is that you get to give your monster a special trait. At first glance this trait could be seen as an imperfection, but it should be something you're super proud of because it makes you YOU. Fitting in is SO out.

I gave my monster an afro because my hair has been a little frizzy lately and I'd rather have a killer fro than a head of frizz.

Always late? Then type in "Immune to my alarm clock." Talk too much in class or at work? You can write "I'm a chatterbox!" Does your brutal honesty get you in trouble sometimes? You could share "I have no filter." Do you love accessories? Then try, "My unique style is all my own."

On top of this really fangtastic application, on Friday the 13th (last Friday) Monster High shared the missing Chapter 13 from the first book exclusively on Facebook! I know many of you thought that chapter didn't exist. Think again, ghouls!

because here it is….

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SLOW AND TELL

CLEO: Ghoules, why weren't u at the RIP meeting? A new RAD was confirmed.

GHOULIA: Missed it. Mrs. Gorgon is sending transcRIPts. CLEO: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

While Frankie Stein was busy pushing the RADs to go radical, Ghoulia Yelps was staging a much quieter rebellion of her own. She flicked a strand of long blue hair away from her white cat-eye glasses as she texted another plea to her parents, begging for permission to go to NekroCon, the first-ever zom- bie fan convention. According to the event website, only twenty tickets remained. How was that even possible when the con was almost a year away? Still, the countdown clock was urging fans to act fast before tickets sold out. But what were the actual zom- bies supposed to do?

Like all the other RADs, Ghoulia lived a lie. At Merston High, she had to be Julia Phelps. But this teenage daughter of the living

undead didn't mind the double-life thing. After all, two lives are better than none.

Ghoulia's main problem with fitting into the normie mold? She was more tortoise than hare. It took her a couple of hours to walk home from school—and she lived only a few blocks away. When she talked, her words came out soooooo sloooooowly that it sooooounded like groooooooaning.

Even though she lived life in the slow lane, Ghoules was, ironi- cally, the smartest cookie in the Tagalongs box. Moving slowly gave her ample opportunity to collect data, analyze it, and for- mulate the most efficient way to do things. Ghoulia was first in her class at Merston High, and her parents fully expected her to be valedictorian at graduation.

She only asked for two things in return: Dead Fast graphic novels (okay, comic books) and a ticket to NekroCon — of which there were now only eleven left. She tried to type faster.

GHOULIA: Dad, the comics are not trashy exploitation. How could they be when the zombie is the hero?

DAD YELPS: You can't move fast enough to dodge the crowd. You will get trampled.

GHOULIA: Would you keep your only offspring from this opportunity to experience the world and explore her passions?

GHOULIA: To learn and— DAD YELPS: Thinking about it . . .

Seven tickets left. Ugh! Think faster!

Desperate for a distraction, Ghoulia spent the next nine min- utes taking off her platform wedges—a new speed record!—and then sat down in her ergonomic desk chair to hack into the latest

installment of Bek and Better Than Ever. Maybe reading about normie drama would distract her. She squinted through her white plastic frames at Haylee's ongoing magnum opus as it scrolled across three computer screens.

Bekka and Brett are the perfect couple, but even couples who are sickly ridikly kee-yoot together need to keep an eye on the competition after three blissful years. To this end, Bek has devel- oped a strategic plan to keep Brett in her sights.

Step 1: Identify PTs. Warning signs include shiny hair, sym- metrical facial features, and manicured nails. Keep an eye out for RED-ALERT PTs—physical threats who don't own the fact that they are PTs.

Today there were two new students to assess:

Frankie—tons of makeup (she must have terrible skin). Atro- cious pantsuit (clearly, this girl has watched too many reruns of That '70s Show). But she does have great hair. Assessment: not a PT, but monitor.

Melody Carver—long black hair, perfect nose and teeth. Com- pletely uncomfortable with her own looks, as apparent from her ill-fitting hoodies in unassuming colors. Observed: Melody was talking to Jackson—nerd alert—and actually got upstaged com- pletely when CLEO SWOOPED IN and STOLE HIS SOUL through her glossy lips! (See past installments 1–678 for more details on Cleo's crush-stealing, boyfriend-napping, Angelina Jolie home- wrecking ways.) Assessment: RED-ALERT PT.

Ghoulia couldn't read any more. The normies had it back- ward. All facts pointed to Frankie being the PT. It was obvious to Ghoulia that the makeup and pantsuit were a cover for Frankie's own RAD self. Okay, that and the fact that while walking to school this morning Ghoulia had seen Mr. Stein driving Frankie to school. As for Cleo kissing Jackson, Ghoulia didn't doubt it. Bad Cleo, she thought. That mummy can't keep it under wraps!

Ghoulia checked the website again. Three tickets left! An instant message popped up from her mother. Finally!

ZeeBeeMOM1: Sorry. We just want to keep you safe.

Two tickets left!

Ghoulia groaned in agony and glanced despairingly at the signed and framed Dead Fast issue no. 1 poster on her wall. Was she forever doomed to buying collectibles on eBay? Not if she could move fast enough to . . .

The words sold out! flashed across her screen.

Slowly, she began lowering her head into her hands, hoping to catch her tears before they fell onto her keyboard. Seconds before her hands and glasses collided, she saw a new message pop up on her monitor: enter the "dead fast, dead first" writing contest and win an all-access convention pass.

Ghoulia scanned the rules—entry due one month prior to opening day . . . contest open only to amateurs, no professional writers . . . make yourself a character . . .

Ghoulia read the guidelines again and again. She already had the plot in her head, and Jackson could help illustrate her story. The hard part would be getting it down on paper before the deadline. But she had to make it happen. Getting her parents on board would be another story—one that she hoped would have a happy ending.

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ENJOY THE ALPHAS!!!!!!

TTYW,

LISI