The next morning at Monster High didn't just start.
It pressed in.
On skin. On thoughts. On that strange, invisible line where Jackson ended and Holt began—and neither of them could quite tell which side they were standing on anymore.
---
Jackie noticed it the moment he stepped through the gates.
The air felt heavier.
Not physically.
But wrong.
Like the world had tilted just enough that everything familiar now had a question mark hanging off it.
His left hand tightened slightly around the strap of his bag.
You feeling that too? Holt's voice crackled low in the back of his mind—quieter than usual, but sharper.
"Yeah," Jackson muttered under his breath. "I am."
No music.
No fire.
No night.
And still—
Holt was there.
Closer than he should've been.
---
The halls were louder than usual.
Or maybe—
Jackson just couldn't tune them out today.
Lockers slammed.
Voices overlapped.
A zombie groaned somewhere nearby—long, low, constant.
"Rrrrgh…"
Normally background noise.
Today?
It felt like punctuation.
---
Jackson slipped into class just as the bell screamed.
Same seat.
Same desk.
Same routine.
Except—
Nothing felt the same.
---
He sat.
Carefully.
Like always.
Left hand resting on the edge of the desk.
Right hand twitching once before he stilled it.
Relax, Holt muttered. You look like you're about to confess to something.
"I'm not," Jackson whispered.
Yeah? 'Cause your face says otherwise.
Jackson didn't respond.
Because—
He wasn't sure Holt was wrong.
---
Around them, the others settled in.
Deuce leaned back, casual as ever.
Cleo sat perfectly composed, gold catching the flickering light.
Draculaura looked… off. Watching. Thinking.
Clawd, Lagoona, Gil—all there. All normal.
And then—
Ghoulia.
Notebook open.
Pen ready.
Watching.
Always watching.
---
Jackson felt it.
That gaze.
Not heavy.
Not obvious.
But there.
Yo, Holt muttered. Zombie girl's clocking you again.
"I know," Jackson said under his breath.
She's been doing that a lot lately.
"I know."
You think she—
"No," Jackson cut in quickly. "She doesn't know."
Then why's she looking like that?
Jackson didn't answer.
Because—
He didn't have one.
---
The lights dimmed.
The projector flickered on.
And just like that—
The room shifted.
---
"Sound the alarms!"
The voice hit like a shockwave.
Jackson flinched.
Not visibly.
But inside?
It rattled.
---
"Halloween is fast approaching!"
Holt went still.
Oh, here we go.
---
Jackson swallowed.
Halloween.
Five days.
Five days until Holt's party.
Five days until—
Everything felt like it was building toward something he couldn't control.
---
"The human menace…"
Images flashed.
Torches.
Crowds.
Angry faces.
---
Jackson's chest tightened.
Because—
He recognized them.
Not personally.
But—
He understood them.
---
Holt didn't react the same way.
Man, these guys need to chill, he scoffed. Who brings torches anymore? That's so outdated.
"They're not the point," Jackson thought back.
Yeah, they kinda are.
---
"To capture and torment monsters of all kinds!"
The words echoed.
Too loud.
Too sharp.
---
Jackson's fingers tightened on the desk.
Because suddenly—
He didn't know where he fit in that sentence.
---
Was he the one being hunted?
Or—
---
Don't go there, Holt cut in.
---
Too late.
---
"Van Hellscream!"
The silhouette filled the screen.
Hero.
Hunter.
Something in between.
---
Deuce muttered, "Whoa."
Clawd added, "Boo, indeed."
---
Jackson didn't react.
Couldn't.
Because—
For a split second—
He imagined that figure turning.
Looking at him.
---
And not knowing what it was seeing.
---
"They will take over your fun places!"
The Maul flashed across the screen.
---
Jackson's stomach dropped.
Because just yesterday—
He'd been there.
With Heath.
Trying to be normal.
---
Yeah, and you nailed it, Holt teased lightly. Real smooth, Jackie.
Jackson ignored him.
Barely.
---
"They are vicious, vicious people!"
"Okay, that's a bit dramatic," Cleo said.
But her voice lacked its usual bite.
---
Jackson's gaze flicked—
Just briefly—
To Draculaura.
---
She was watching him.
---
Not casually.
Not accidentally.
---
Watching.
---
And suddenly—
The memory hit again.
---
The window.
The reflection.
The moment something hadn't lined up.
---
Jackson's breath caught.
*…Okay, Holt said slowly. That one's looking at you weird.*
"I know," Jackson thought.
You sure she doesn't know?
"I don't know."
---
"Meet Joe Normie…"
The smiling human appeared.
Friendly.
Harmless.
---
Then—
Not.
Because what the fuck else would happen?
---
Jackson felt something twist in his chest.
Because—
That smile?
He could wear that.
---
And that crowd?
---
He could be in that too.
---
The thought hit harder than anything else.
---
Yo, Holt said, quieter now. That's… not a fun thought.
"No," Jackson agreed.
"It's not."
*We should have switched for this...*
"Yeah..."
---
"Don't fall for their tricks or treats!"
Frankie leaned forward. "Wait, what about trick-or-treating?"
"Traps," Cleo said flatly.
---
Jackson barely heard it.
Because—
His reflection—
Faint—
In the edge of his desk—
---
Moved.
---
Not wrong.
Not obvious.
---
But not right either.
---
He froze.
---
…Okay, Holt said. That's new.
"That's not new," Jackson thought back, panic creeping in. "That's been happening."
Yeah, and it's getting worse.
---
Jackson didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
---
Because if he did—
Would it happen again?
---
Would someone see?
---
Ghoulia's pen stopped.
---
He didn't look at her.
But he knew.
---
She saw something.
---
We've gotta fix this, Holt muttered.
"How?" Jackson shot back.
I don't know, man, but that zombie's about two seconds away from solving us like a math problem.
---
"Lock your doors!"
"Stay inside!"
"Run if discovered!"
---
"Mr. Rotter, this can't be right!" Frankie said.
---
Jackson looked up.
Finally, someone said it.
---
Mr. Rotter stood at the front.
Still.
Calm.
Unmoving.
---
"That," he said, "is the unfortunate history of Halloween."
---
Jackson felt it then.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
---
Recognition.
---
Because unlike everyone else in the room—
He couldn't dismiss it.
---
Because part of him—
Understood both sides.
As much as both wished that wasn't the case.
---
Heath spoke up. "We've watched this every year since elementary Nothing ever happens."
Deuce nodded.
---
Jackson almost agreed.
Almost.
---
But then—
---
Mr. Rotter's gaze moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
---
And stopped—
---
On him.
---
Not long.
Not obvious.
---
But long enough.
---
Jackson's chest tightened.
---
Because that look—
---
It wasn't suspicion.
---
It was awareness.
---
Like—
He already knew.
---
…Okay, yeah, he definitely knows, Holt said.
"He's one of our teachers," Jackson thought back. "Of course he knows, he kind of has to."
Yeah, but that look? That wasn't 'I read your file'—that was 'I'm watching you.'
---
"Even if normies seem trustworthy," Mr. Rotter continued, "all rules go out the window on Halloween."
---
Jackson swallowed.
---
Humans.
Monsters.
---
Where did that leave him?
---
In the middle, Holt said.
---
Jackson closed his eyes briefly.
---
That wasn't comforting.
---
"Who knows what they might be capable of?"
---
The projector clicked off.
---
Lights returned.
---
Noise flooded back in.
---
But Jackson didn't move.
---
Because inside—
Everything felt louder.
---
Hey, Holt said, quieter now.
Yeah?
…We're not them.
Jackson hesitated.
Either of them, Holt added.
---
Jackson let out a slow breath.
---
"…Then what are we?" he whispered.
---
Holt didn't answer right away.
---
For once—
He didn't have something to say.
---
And somehow—
That scared Jackson more than anything else.
---
Because as the class began to empty—
As voices returned—
As everything went back to normal—
---
Jackson stayed where he was.
---
Caught between two halves.
---
Two worlds.
---
And one question—
---
That neither of them could answer yet.
---
The Creepiteria lights came back on and Jackson quickly made his way out.
In fact so quick he ran into someone.
A manster.
The worst possible manster.
"Watch it, normie!"
Yeah, Manny Minotaur.
Because fuck they're life.
Jackson stumbled back, his bag slipping off his shoulder as the massive bull-manster loomed over him. The Creepiteria chatter died instantly—every ghoul's head swiveled toward them like some synchronized horror show. Manny's nostrils flared, steam practically shooting out as he cracked his knuckles.
"My bad." Jackson whimpered.
And so he ran to the closest bathroom so Holt could get to his class on time.
---
"Oh, Clawdeen, I'm totes excited! Yeah!" Draculaura's voice echoed through the hallway as she continued on, "My cousin Thad is dying to meet you! Well, not literally, he's immortal..."
Clawdewn just groaned, "Gee! A double date with you, my brother and some guy I've never met. How could a ghoul pass that up?"
Draculaura just pouted, "Oh, come on, don't be so stubborn. It might be fun!"
Just then, Frankie came up, "Hey, ghouls, um...
What do you know about Halloween? I was going to ask Jackie but he ran off somewhere..."
"Oh, no. Did Mr. Rotter show that ridiculous old film again?" Clawdeen's voice drawed out in a groan.
"I'm so confused. I don't know what to believe. I mean, I know Jackie's like, super nice, but he's Jackie."
"Trust me, ghoulfriend. You got nothing to worry about. Right, Draculaura?" Clawdeen said looking back at the vampire with a hand on Frankie's shoulder.
"Well, I can only speak from personal experience, and yeah, Jackie's definitely one of the good ones, but... Normies were the whole reason my family fled Transylvania," Draculaura admitted, twisting he pigtails as hse continued, "All it takes is one little misunderstanding, and before you know it, out come the pitchforks and torches and—"
Clawdeen groaned, "How is that helping?"
"Sorry!" Draculaura winced before brightening, "On the plus side, I never would've met any of you if we hadn't moved here."
Frankie's stitches pulled tight around her frown as she stared down the hall where Jackson had vanished. "Tell you what, ghouls—next time we see Jackie, let's just... act normal. He's jumpier than a werewolf during a full moon lately, and with a lot of Ghouls and Mansters being all antsy now."
"Yeah, sounds good."
---
Meanwhile, in the mansters' bathroom, Jackson pressed his palms against the cracked porcelain sink, breathing hard. The flickering bulb above him cast jagged shadows—one of which didn't quite match his movements.
*C'mon, Jackie. Deep breaths. You're fine. Totally fine.* Holt's voice slithered through his thoughts like smoke—smooth, curling, impossible to ignore. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, counting the pulse points in his temples. One. Two. Three. The flickering light overhead buzzed like a trapped insect, casting jagged shadows that didn't quite match the trembling outline of his hands on the sink.
A shadow moved wrong. Just a fraction.
"It's definitely not safe to be me right now..." Jackson hissed under his breath as he flipped his hood up, casting his face in shadow. The cracked bathroom mirror showed the exact problem—his reflection's edges kept blurring like static, the fluorescent light above them flickering in time with his quickening pulse. Holt's chuckle vibrated through his ribcage.
*"Relax, Jackie. You're wound tighter than a mummy after spin class."*
Jackson's left hand fumbled with the sink faucet, splashing cold water on his wrists. "You're going to be late for third period," he muttered, watching droplets slide down his trembling fingers.
*Yeah yeah, just... Lets get this over with,* Holt mentally sighed, clearly wishing to talk even though he knew that Jackson wouldn't.
But what else was new in High School right?
*It should have been everything.*
But no, it was just like before they came to New Salem...
*AAAANNNNDDD we're stopping that thought right there!* Holt nearly stammered.