Monster High 4: Back and Deader Than Ever Read Online Free PDF

her sister’s clothes, not hers. For once!
    Candace stepped into Dread’s personal space. She put her hands on her hips and—
    “Next!” called Mini.
    Melody pulled Candace forward.
    Rattled by her first experience with criticism, Candace was stunned into silence. “Um…”
    Flannel leaned forward and muttered, “At least I look over twenty-one.”
    Candace’s green eyes snapped back to life. “At least I don’t!” She pulled a business card out of her beaded clutch and flicked it toward the other girl. “Don’t worry. My dad’s a plastic surgeon. If you ever win the lottery, call him. He loves a challenge.”
    Melody couldn’t help laughing at the girls’ shocked faces. Trust Candace to have the perfect comeback.
    “I said, IDs!”
    Candace shoved Melody forward.
    Please let my voice work, please let my voice work.
Excluding the call she had made to the University of Southern California’s admissions office (Candace had needed more time on her entrance essay, and Melody had needed Candace to stop begging her for help), Melody hadn’t used her Siren skills in months. Controlling destiny was too much responsibility for her. She’d learned her lesson after Clawdeen’s Sassy Sixteen. And again when she got the server at Dairy Queen to load Jackson’s Blizzard with every mix-in on the menu. That night he had puked gummy bear/Oreo/graham cracker all over her new jean jacket.
    Melody took a deep breath and looked directly into Mini’s black eyes. “You do not need to see our IDs. We are twenty-one. The two girls behind us are not.”
    He began blinking. It was working.
    He placed a warm hand on Melody’s back and ushered her and Candace into the yellow light.
    Candace slipped her arm through Melody’s and squeezed. “I told you it would be fine!”
    The pee pain returned, but Melody smiled anyway. Not so much because she got in. But because for once, she didn’t stand out.
    The musty air smelled like beer and stale popcorn. Melody desperately scanned the crowded venue for a bathroom while her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
    A scarred wooden bar ran the length of the room. Behind it an Asian hipster in a black tee and Dickies tended to the three-deep crowd. Tall tables were like gigantic coasters for empty pints and purses, and college students mingled and bobbed to the Cure track that was blasting from the speakers by the stage. The music was a placeholder, a distraction while the all-girl band set up.
    Melody thought back to her days as a singer, before the asthma. Performances were for grown-ups seated in auditoriums and smelling like expensive perfumes. She tried to imagine singing for people her own age. The idea quickly became a feeling; it was a lot like falling.
    “I’m off to find Shane. You sure you’re okay getting home?” Candace asked, smudging her eyeliner to look like a sexy accident.
    Melody had gotten her license only six days before, but she was consumed with not peeing her pajama pants, so she nodded convincingly. Candace tossed her the keys and then bolted.
    Finally.
    The narrow black bathroom was plastered with posters and stickers from some of her favorite bands: Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Blind Melon, STP…. It was like an homage to nineties grunge. Or rather an homage to the dark music she had played in sunny Beverly Hills. Songs for outcasts. Songs for her.
    Washing her hands with cold water and no soap in the wobblypedestal sink, Melody checked her reflection in the cracked mirror. She certainly didn’t look her best. Tangled black hair tied in a messy ponytail, scattered feathers dangling by the sides of her face, narrow gray eyes propped open by caffeine. She was no Candace, that’s for sure. But tonight that didn’t seem to matter. No one seemed to notice Melody. It was incredible.
    As she pushed her way toward the exit, the lights dimmed. The crowd gathered in front of the stage and began cheering.
    A blond in tight cutoffs and a half shirt that exposed a roll