Jackson Jekyll had exactly one goal.
Find a phone.
That was it.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing heroic.
Just a phone.
He walked through the unfamiliar halls of New Salem High with his hood pulled low, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. Every classroom door looked the same. Every hallway blended into the next. Students flowed around him in little groups, chatting about homework, weekend plans, football practice, and teachers they couldn't stand.
Nobody was paying attention to him.
Not really.
Which was strange.
Monster High had always been... different.
There, people noticed everyone.
Sometimes for good reasons.
Sometimes for bad ones.
Here?
Jackson could have been wallpaper.
Inside his mind, Holt finally broke the silence.
"Still weird?"
Jackson nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Still weird."
Neither of them mentioned how much they wished they still had the headphones.
Without them, their conversations felt... louder somehow.
More difficult to separate from their own thoughts.
Jackson rubbed his tired eyes.
No sleep.
Barely any food.
Too much adrenaline.
His head felt stuffed with cotton.
Still...
Phone first.
Everything else later.
He rounded another corner.
A bulletin board.
A trophy case.
A drinking fountain.
No office.
No phone.
"Seriously..."
He sighed.
"Who builds a school without putting signs anywhere?"
"Humans," Holt answered dryly.
Jackson almost smiled.
Almost.
A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You."
Jackson looked up.
Standing beside a display case was a tall girl with long silver-blonde hair streaked with crimson. She wore black clothing that somehow managed to look elegant and intimidating at the same time, complete with dark boots and silver jewelry.
She regarded him with the confidence of someone who expected to be listened to.
"You know, new kid," she began, "just because you're new..."
She folded her arms.
"...doesn't mean you can't continue to be vigilant."
Jackson blinked.
"...Okay?"
She reached into a folder she was carrying and pulled out a printed flyer.
"Keep your eyes peeled for this monster."
She handed it to him.
Jackson accepted it automatically.
Then looked down.
His stomach dropped.
Holt.
Not literally.
A photograph of Holt stared back at him from the page.
Blue skin.
Orange flames.
Confident grin.
The same grin that had been on his face just before the police tackled him.
Across the top, in bold letters:
WANTED
Below it:
Escaped Prisoner
Considered Dangerous
Jackson's fingers tightened around the paper.
Very carefully.
Very slowly.
He forced himself to keep breathing.
Inside his head, Holt went completely silent.
"He broke out of jail," the girl continued matter-of-factly. "Authorities are still looking for him. If you see him, tell a teacher immediately."
Jackson swallowed.
"...Dangerous?"
"So they say."
He studied the picture.
There were scratches on Holt's cheek from the arrest.
Jackson hadn't noticed those before.
Now he couldn't stop looking at them.
He wondered if their mother had seen this flyer yet.
He hoped not.
No...
He didn't.
The thought made his chest ache.
The girl extended a hand.
"Lilith."
He shook it automatically.
"Jackson."
"Lilith Van Hellscream."
"Nice to meet you."
She nodded once.
"You too."
She started to say something else before footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Three students rounded the corner.
The first was Clair.
Black hair framed her pale face, contrasting with thoughtful brown eyes. Her outfit leaned heavily into an emo-goth aesthetic—layers of black, silver chains, fingerless gloves, and worn boots that clicked softly against the tile floor.
Beside her walked Chad, looking considerably less composed than she did.
The moment Clair noticed the flyer in Jackson's hands, she frowned.
"They're still handing those out?"
Lilith nodded.
"Principal's orders."
Chad looked at the picture.
"...Still can't believe a monster broke out of jail."
Jackson kept his expression carefully neutral.
Inside, Holt snorted.
"Technically I walked out."
"This isn't helping."
"I'm coping."
Clair tilted her head, studying Jackson for a second.
Then another.
Then one more.
"...Huh."
Jackson resisted the urge to tense.
"What?"
She stepped a little closer.
Not threateningly.
Just curious.
Her eyes moved from the flyer...
...to Jackson's face.
"...He's kinda cute, really."
Jackson blinked.
"What?"
She pointed at the picture.
"The blue kid."
Jackson looked back down at the flyer.
Then back at her.
"...That's certainly an opinion."
"I mean..." Clair shrugged. "You know..."
She pointed again.
"You and the blue kid have the same piercing."
For one terrifying second, Jackson forgot how to speak.
His heart skipped.
Did she know?
Impossible.
She couldn't.
She'd never met Holt.
Had she?
No.
No, she couldn't have.
"Jackie," Holt warned quietly.
"I know."
Jackson looked down at the flyer again as though seeing it for the first time.
Then he shrugged.
"Maybe we have the same piercing artist."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Chad laughed.
"...Fair enough."
Clair chuckled too.
"I guess that's possible."
Lilith simply nodded once, apparently satisfied.
Jackson smiled politely.
Inside his head, Holt let out a breath neither of them realized he'd been holding.
"That was close."
"Way too close."
Jackson carefully folded the flyer.
Not because he wanted it.
Because throwing it away immediately might look suspicious.
"So..."
He glanced around casually.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a phone?"
Lilith raised an eyebrow.
"The office has one."
Jackson's shoulders almost sagged with relief.
"Great."
"It's down the east hallway," Clair added. "Second door on the left."
"Thanks."
He started walking before stopping.
"...And, uh..."
He lifted the folded flyer slightly.
"I'll... keep an eye out."
The words tasted bitter.
Lilith gave a satisfied nod.
"Good."
Jackson turned and continued down the hallway.
Only once he'd rounded the next corner did his smile disappear.
He looked down at the folded flyer again.
At Holt's face.
At the word Dangerous printed beneath it.
His grip tightened.
Inside his head, Holt spoke so quietly Jackson almost didn't hear him.
"Think Mom's seen one yet?"
Jackson closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"...I hope not."
Neither of them believed that.
Not really.
And with every step toward the school office, Jackson couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out—for him, for Holt, and for everyone waiting across town who still had no idea where he was.
---
The upbeat brass music burst through the hallway speakers.
Not harsh. Not overwhelming.
Just bright—almost cheerful.
"Attention, students! Please welcome our Pep Band, fresh off their victory at Regionals!"
Applause echoed somewhere deeper in the school.
Then the music hit full stride.
Trumpets. Trombones. Drums.
Fast. Proud. Loud in the way celebration always was.
Students leaned into doorways, smiling as the sound filled the corridor.
Lilith Van Hellscream rounded the corner—
—and stopped.
Jackson Jekyll was frozen in place.
She frowned.
"…Jackson?"
No response.
At first, she thought he simply hadn't heard her over the music.
Then she noticed his posture.
Too rigid.
Too controlled.
Like every muscle had locked itself into place.
His backpack slid slightly off one shoulder, but he didn't adjust it.
His breathing had changed.
Fast. Shallow.
Wrong.
"…No…"
The word barely left him.
Inside his mind, Holt's voice surfaced—thin, strained.
Not now…
Jackson's eyes squeezed shut.
"I'm trying…"
The hallway music surged again as the pep band rounded the next corner.
The sound hit like a wave.
Not just loud.
Directional.
Every beat seemed to strike his chest in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Jackson flinched hard.
Lilith tilted her head slightly.
"…Hey."
He didn't look at her.
His hands were trembling now.
Not subtle.
Badly.
He shoved them into his hoodie pockets like he could hide the shaking from the world.
His breathing got faster.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
The hallway suddenly felt brighter.
Too bright.
Too many colors.
Too many reflections in the lockers.
Too many voices overlapping.
Students laughing.
Footsteps.
Music.
Everything stacking on top of itself until it blurred into pressure.
Jackson's jaw clenched.
"I just—"
His voice cracked.
He stopped.
Tried again.
"I just need—"
Nothing came out.
Inside his mind—
Holt was struggling too.
Stay steady.
"I'm trying."
Breathe.
"I am breathing!"
But it wasn't working anymore.
Lilith watched carefully now.
The earlier irritation she'd had—the annoyance at the "new kid"—was fading into something more observant.
"…Do you need the nurse?"
No answer.
Jackson leaned slightly against a locker.
Metal rattled softly.
CLANG.
A couple of nearby students glanced over.
Then kept walking.
No one stopped.
No one really looked twice.
That, more than anything, made Lilith's expression sharpen.
Something was wrong—but not in a way anyone else seemed to notice.
Jackson's breathing got worse.
His fingers curled tighter.
His knuckles went pale.
"I can't—"
He swallowed hard.
"I can't—"
The music shifted again.
A trumpet line cut through the hallway like a spark.
And something in Jackson snapped inward.
Not outward.
Inward.
Lilith saw it immediately.
His entire body went rigid again—but deeper this time.
Like something underneath his skin had just been pulled tight.
"…Jackson?"
He didn't respond.
His eyes were open now—but unfocused.
Not seeing her.
Not seeing anything.
Just noise.
Pressure.
Rhythm.
Inside—
Holt sounded alarmed.
Jackie—don't—
"I can't hold it—"
Don't let go—
"I'M TRYING!"
His voice cracked in his own head.
And then—
Heat.
Not fire yet.
Just heat.
Lilith felt it before she saw it.
A warm shift in the air around him.
"…What—"
Tiny green sparks flickered at Jackson's fingertips.
He stared down at them like they belonged to someone else.
"No…"
The sparks vanished.
Then returned.
Then multiplied.
The music outside swelled again.
The pep band hit a crescendo.
Drums thundered through the hallway.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Something inside Jackson tore loose.
Green fire erupted—not outward, but upward.
A spiraling column wrapped around him instantly.
Lilith stumbled back.
"What the—"
The flames didn't burn the lockers.
Didn't scorch the floor.
They only hid him.
Swirling.
Covering.
Like a curtain being pulled shut.
For a moment, she saw nothing but emerald light.
Then—
Silence.
The music ended in a final triumphant chord somewhere else in the building.
The fire collapsed inward.
And Jackson was gone.
In his place stood someone else entirely.
Blue skin.
Red hair swept into a cowlick.
Amber eyes.
The same hoodie.
The same posture.
The same exhausted stance.
Holt Hyde exhaled slowly.
"…Dang it."
His voice was tired.
Not dramatic.
Not triumphant.
Just… worn down.
Inside, Jackson didn't speak right away.
Neither of them did.
Lilith didn't move.
Not even a step.
Her eyes locked on him instantly.
Recognition hit first.
Then understanding.
Then something colder.
Her hand tightened around something in her pocket—paper crinkling softly.
A wanted notice.
She had seen it earlier.
Escaped detainee.
Dangerous monster.
Blue skin. Red hair. Amber eyes.
Now standing in front of her.
Exactly as described.
Holt looked up.
Saw her expression shift in real time.
He and Jackson had seen it before.
Too many times.
Especially before coming to New Salem, Oregon.
When he tried to explain to countless humans and monsters before.
Those that they thought were their friends...
At first, confusion.
Then shock.
Then fear.
And finally—
Recognition.
Her lips parted slightly.
"…No."
Holt didn't respond.
Her gaze flicked again.
From him.
To the hallway.
To the empty space where Jackson had been.
Back to him.
Her voice came out sharper now.
"You were pretending."
Holt blinked once.
"…What?"
Her hand tightened around the paper until it tore slightly at the edge.
"I watched you."
Holt frowned faintly.
"I don't think you did."
"You were shaking."
"I was—"
"You were acting."
Her tone rose.
"Like you were human."
Holt went still.
That word landed wrong.
Not new.
Just familiar in the worst way.
"…No."
Lilith took a step back, disgust replacing confusion with frightening speed.
"Yes."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You were hiding."
Holt's shoulders dropped slightly.
"I wasn't hiding."
"You were inside him."
That made him pause.
"…No."
"You became him."
"I didn't—"
"I saw it!"
Her voice cracked through the hallway.
"He was right there and then you were right there!"
Holt stared at her for a long moment.
Slowly, carefully, he raised his hands a little.
Not threatening.
Just tired.
"…That's not how it works."
But she wasn't listening anymore.
Her gaze kept darting over him like she couldn't reconcile what she was seeing.
Like Jackson had never existed at all.
Like he had just been a disguise that slipped.
A trick.
A cover.
Her voice lowered again.
"Monster."
The word came out like an accusation.
Holt didn't flinch.
But something in him went quiet.
Inside—
Jackson did.
Lilith took another step back.
"I knew it."
Holt's expression didn't change much.
Just… flattened.
"…No, you didn't."
"I knew you were all the same."
That made him pause.
Same.
Not people.
Not individuals.
Same.
Her grip tightened again.
"You're not even two things."
Her eyes flicked over him.
"You're one thing pretending."
Holt let out a slow breath through his nose.
"…Yeah."
That answer confused her for half a second.
Then made her more certain.
She nodded sharply, like she'd confirmed something important.
"I should've known."
Holt looked down briefly.
Then back up.
"…Probably should've."
That didn't calm her.
It made her more certain.
More rigid.
More disgusted.
She stepped back fully now, putting distance between them like it mattered.
Like distance could undo what she'd seen.
"You're exactly what they said."
Holt didn't ask who "they" were.
He already knew.
People like her always had a "they."
He just nodded once.
"…Okay."
That answer made her flinch slightly.
Not because it was aggressive.
Because it wasn't.
It wasn't denial.
It wasn't pleading.
It wasn't fear.
It was acceptance.
And that unsettled her more than anything else.
Behind them, somewhere down the hall, a classroom door slowly opened.
Voices began to stir.
But Lilith didn't look away from him.
Not yet.
Her expression hardened again—fully now.
No confusion left.
Only judgment.
"…I'm reporting this."
Holt nodded faintly.
"…Yeah."
She hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then her face tightened again, as if she'd caught herself considering something she refused to think about.
"You're not a student."
Holt exhaled slowly.
"…I know."
"You never were."
That one landed heavier.
He didn't answer immediately.
Then, quietly:
"…That's not true."
But she was already backing away.
Already turning.
Already done with the conversation in her mind.
"I saw what you are."
She said it like that settled everything.
Like Jackson had never existed at all.
Like the shaking, terrified boy from seconds earlier had just been part of the disguise.
Her voice lowered one last time, colder than before.
"And I won't forget it!"
Then she ran away.
Fast.
Without looking back.
Holt stood there alone in the hallway as the distant sound of celebration continued through the school.
Inside him, Jackson finally spoke, the same time Holt spoke out loud:
"SHIT."