Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fall in Vermont -- a picturesque scene, mimicked in mass-produced landscapes found hanging in liminal spaces.

Wealthy peepers dressed down in denim and flannel flock to the East Coast, capturing the resplendent, decaying countryside to flood their social media channels with autumnal aesthetics. Hay bales and gourds line the sidewalks of these sudden tourist destination cities as the honest work of toiling the land becomes the annual family photo opportunity. Young women don a faux disposition for the macabre and supernatural that comes along with each harvest season as they claim to be granddaughters of the witches they couldn’t burn.

But my ancestor was maimed for her supernatural prowess. I do not begin my second journey to Vermont for the colors or seasonal fruits. I return to study – topics I am likely already well-versed in. I return to explore the ether in ways I have not yet managed. And I return to attempt to resolve a wrong that I intend to make right.

X

Wednesday’s sharp brown gaze appeared to be watching the still-green hues of tress littering the country highway as she focused her watchful eye out the window. She was actually fixated on the stray ring of a raindrop that had dried to the glass pane in a late summer shower the night before. As her unblinking stare went into the second hour of the trip from her dark mansion of home, a familiar hand on her knee forced her to pull away from the certainties that she’d been stewing on.

Glancing down at the mobile device clutched in her hand, reflecting six notifications on the home screen, she blinked and looked up at her mother, who had a soft, knowing expression on. Glaring hard, Wednesday attempted to communicate that she was not willing to fall for Morticia’s line of questioning, though she knew it was likely an effort in vain. “You are anticipating your interaction with the new administrator,” She said, rather than asked, because her mother knew the feeling was accurate.

“Anticipation often has an air of excitement around it,” Wednesday rebutted flatly. “I assure you, I will not have an ounce of joy when meeting Dr. Zypher.”

“You should give her a chance, Wednesday,” Morticia rebutted in her nauseatingly positive way. “You’ve always had a fondness for snakes and lizards. You could learn a lot from a highly credentialed herpetologist such as your new headmistress.”

Morticia knew that wasn’t why Wednesday was irked to be meeting Dr. Josephine Zypher, whose introductory letter Wednesday had set fire to within moments of opening. The mother seemed to have enough tact, however, not to press the real issue when they were still nearly three hours away from their destination. Wednesday had the image of her new administrator tucked in her memory from the photograph she’d included – red, wavy hair like a waterfall parted on one side, trailing halfway to her elbow, hazel-blue eyes, a small smile and a sharp black blazer. Dr. Zypher had tried to assure Outcast families, Nevermore would be safe in her capable hands for the fall semester. Once Wednesday saw the line about big shoes to fill, the note turned to ash in the Addams family fireplace. Though she was sure it hadn’t been meant in a malicious way regarding the former principal’s famous stature, Wednesday didn’t like how the line read and was determined to treat the new principal with ire.

“Perhaps she can teach you uses for shed. There’s many a spell for revitalization using snakeskin, you know. Practical for any young and upcoming woman that might wish to join the hellish crusades.”

Finding her gaze drifting back to the day-old raindrop, Wednesday let her thoughts stew and brew like the potion her mother fantasized her creating with Dr. Zypher.

Largely, Wednesday had filled her extended summer break with private tutoring from an internationally acclaimed cellist. She developed a new interest in six-sided shuriken throwing due to the extended amount of time her eyes had been forced to be witness to her brother’s latest obsession with Japanese cartoons. She partook in plenty of solo hikes through the woods behind the Addams family estate, listening to entomology podcasts on her new cellphone upon the recommendation to give the auditory medium a try by Xavier. That had only been to give herself an advantage over her peers for her fall course on insect studies, she claimed. In the time that hadn’t been taken up with working through Edith Wharton’s classic ghost stories and trying new meditation techniques to help explore her visions more deeply, Wednesday had developed a theory. Unfortunately, Morticia’s response to her working musings hadn’t encouraged her to share it with her peers through the texting feature she’d gotten used to (though her schoolmates knew not to expect a reply in any sort of timely fashion), nor the weekly FaceTime with Enid (that Wednesday would claim to hate but secretly looked forward to).

Morticia had been concerned for Wednesday upon hearing her discuss her premise, going so far as to recommend a grief counselor for her, as if her last forte into the world of psychology had really helped. But Wednesday knew it wasn’t grief that was spurring her conclusions. It was a nagging, a feeling, a certainty, low in her gut, perhaps that crawled a bit like a slow-moving spider into her heart. There was logic to her claim, near proof, which of course, she wouldn’t quite have until she was back at Nevermore, but nonetheless, she was confident that there was evidence for her suspicion.

It didn’t make sense to Wednesday that Larissa Weems was killed in such a senseless and ridiculous fashion, even though she had seen the tragedy occur before her very eyes. Her headmistress was a highly skilled shapeshifter, capable of the greatest illusion Wednesday had ever seen, likely the best in the world. Wednesday had reason to believe that Principal Weems was still alive - likely trapped in a shift that she couldn’t escape due to being in a weakened state from her poisoning.

Morticia had tried to tell her daughter that such wishes were dangerous to her psyche, that convincing herself that she hadn’t witnessed a terrible death was just her way of avoiding dealing with her emotions.  But it wasn’t a wish. There had been no shooting star, no turkey furcula split in half, no birthday candle. Wednesday wasn’t hoping that Nevermore’s previous principal was alive. She knew that Weems was.

“Wednesday,” Morticia said softly, sensing the dangerous thoughts were rattling around like dried bones to be cast over fire in her daughter’s head. Instead of even acknowledging them, she suggested diversion, as if her teenager were a toddler, so easily distracted. “Why don’t you listen to some of that music you discovered, something with lyrics? We’re still a few hours away. It would be good to focus on something light and positive before settling in for the new school year.”

Not acknowledging her verbally, Wednesday lifted her phone up so it could recognize her face, watching it open with a severe expression. She continued ignoring the notifications at the bottom. Sliding a thumb over the green circle on her limited home screen, she pushed the triangle on her playlist, loudly filling the back of the vehicle with early ‘80s glam-goth British rock imports. Morticia’s face had the slightest twitch before she twisted the latch on Wednesday’s backpack, taking out a pair of matte black headphones that she’d purchased for her daughter for that exact purpose. Pushing the power button, the headphones connected and the music stopped on the external speaker. Wednesday didn’t crack as her mother fitted the headphones over her ears. Inside, she suppressed a shiver at the sensory input, ears smashed against her skull, the texture of the vinyl cushioning, how the little hinges on the sides that folded them together would catch in her hair when she took them off…

No one would ever tell by looking at the sixteen-year-old of course that the sensation of the headphones caused her misery. She sat stiff as always, and her gaze fell back out the window. Morticia breathed out obviously, though Wednesday could not hear her over the noise-cancelling effect the musical ear-prisons had. Her mother likely assumed that she was focused on the tunes, letting the lyrics dance across her mind with her usual tickertape experience.

But for the next three hours, Wednesday would continue to ruminate on something she knew for a fact: Larissa Weems was alive. It would be up to her, the last Nevermore student to see her breathing, to prove it.

X

Having not started the previous school year in the first semester, Wednesday didn’t know what sorts of welcoming activities would take place from Friday afternoon through Monday morning when classes would start, but she was sure – she was going to hate it all. Teambuilding, introductions - all sorts of forced interactions she had no desire to have. A quiet evening with Enid followed by maybe a lunch as she had to eat anyway, the next day to greet everyone else would’ve sufficed. Then, she’d have liked to have thirty-six hours of solitude to prepare for a busy semester. Notifications continued to fall on the screen of her phone, likely discussing all the merriment that would occur. Wednesday didn’t open a single message.

Pulling into Nevermore in the family hearse, she was reminded that everyone was moving back at once (or starting for the first time) as vehicles lined the driveway and staff in blue vests were directing families where to go. A tall, lanky man with blonde-brown hair gestured Lurch forward to the next place in line, where he parked in a parallel diagonal to a black SUV with a sleek silver stripe around it. Morticia found her trademark smile as the vehicle was turned off and Wednesday dropped her headphones around her neck, internally cringing when the hinges, of course, pulled several hairs on the way. “I do believe that’s Dr. Gallor, your Entomology teacher. We ought to introduce you.”

“I’m sure he’ll become familiar with me soon enough.”

Wednesday was spared her mother’s awkward introduction due to the unfortunate opening of the door by the teacher, who was already well-aware of the student whom he was greeting. “Ms. Addams. What an absolute pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Gallor, your -”

“Professor of Entomology, Aberystwyth University, Institute of Biological, Environmental & Rural Sciences. I know who you are.”

He beamed. “It seems both our reputations befall us.”

“Your biography was listed under the new faculty section of Nevermore’s website.” Wednesday replied in her usual unimpressed manner.

Dr. Gallor didn’t give up on her just yet as he held out a hand for her, which she ignored and climbed out of the back seat, letting her mother be doted on by the young teacher for a moment as she politely introduced herself, thanking him for acknowledging her daughter’s still developing infamy.

Wednesday stood still, her backpack on one shoulder as she scanned the front of the school grounds, looking for anything suspicious. “…Would love for her to fall back in love with arachnology.”

“Unit three,” She heard his reply as she watched staff and seniors escort underclassmen to their respective lines to pick up maps, keys, folders, and other beginning of year materials. As Lurch took Wednesday’s luggage from the top of the car, she took a step forward, feeling a sudden rush of cold in her blood. Stiffening like a board, her head tilted up and a flash of a vision overtook her.

- a spider skittering across a salt circle of black salts in the shape of a star – lightening striking across the window of Ophelia Hall – strange, angry shadows casting all along her dorm room walls – a slow-moving sequence of blood dripping down onto the wrist of her white blouse -

“Wednesday?” Her mother spoke, concerned, her hands on her shoulder blades keeping her upright. Shrugging her off a little more aggressively than necessary, she shook her head when Morticia pleaded to know, “What did you see?”

“Nothing of your concern,” Wednesday stated seriously.

“Darling, you haven’t had a vision all summer,” Morticia whispered. That wasn’t true – she simply hadn’t shared the violent flashes with her mother. “You’ve hardly taken ten steps onto the property, and --”

“What, we’re going to turn around and go home? I’m fine, mother. Not all visions signal the end of times, despite my highest hopes.”

As the taller woman tried to speak again, Wednesday found her own way out of additional questioning and a genuine ghost of a smile as she heard her name called excitedly from a hundred yards away. Eugene was dashing forward, Sue and Janet behind him with twin expressions of merriment at the sight of their son genuinely happy to see a peer. Wednesday was pleased that he was her first familiar sight. Eugene knew her boundaries and wouldn’t push her the way many of her other acquaintances and friends likely would that afternoon. “I’m so happy to be back! Look, you’ve already met Dr. Gallor! He teaches Intro to Entomology! And guess what’s even more exciting than that? He’s going to help us with the colony for the Hummers! There hasn’t been an entomology class at Nevermore in fifty-two years! But we’ve got an expert in the field to help us out now!”

Offering her friend a rare compliment, Wednesday stated, “He may have a fancy piece of paper from an accredited university in the snobby English countryside, but you are the expert on our hive, Eugene. Don’t let someone else’s textbook knowledge override your intuition and experience. You know how to hail our queen.”

Eugene flushed, knowing it was truly high praise from Wednesday. The slightly older girl squinted just a bit as she took him in, realizing his cheeks were thinner and he’d likely sprouted three inches since she’d seen him last, as they were standing eye-to-eye rather than her hovering over him. His hair had been cropped just a touch and he had new glasses on, thinner frames and a sleeker style. His nerdy leisure time outfit was a tad more age-appropriate, with a black t-shirt under a gray denim vest with various insect-themed patches neatly stitched on and environmental pins decorated the collar. Her head tilted forward in approval of his style which had clearly taken a fraction of inspiration from her own. “It’s good to see you, Wednesday.”


Shifting the next intention, she directed, “Take me to where I receive my black carpet welcome.”


They walked together and Wednesday just knew that her mother was watching with as much fondness as Eugene’s were a step behind her, grateful that she had a good friend in him, who embraced all her weirdness and admired it with zest. In all honesty – Wednesday was, too.

They entered the main hall of Nevermore to a bustling scene. It was, as Wednesday dreaded, utter fanfare amid organized chaos. Feeling an anxious pit in her stomach as she was surrounded suddenly by so many people, she of course, didn’t let it show. She desperately wished for a moment that she knew a spell or had a potion that could block unwanted visions. She had no desire to see anyone’s teenage tragedy from the summer.

While no one was directly crowding her, the stares and whispers at her arrival on the warm afternoon couldn’t be hidden by any – who were grateful, yet forever on edge with her presence. Keeping her shoulders back and head high, Wednesday filed over to the A – G last name check-in area, waiting behind a trio of her classmates who waved, but whom she hadn’t had more than a handful of interactions with to know their names and abilities. Regarding them back with stares, Wednesday was happy to let Eugene continue to babble about his plans for the Hummers. Usually his incessant chatter would earn her sharp shut-down, but he served as an excellent shield from others who might approach and attempt to engage her while waiting in line.

“Ms. Addams!” A sweet-natured academia teacher who specialized in poetry and wore her hair naturally with a yellow headscarf around her forehead was delighted to see her. “Welcome back to Nevermore. I didn’t get to personally thank you in the spring, but we are all forever indebted to your actions.” When Wednesday didn’t reply, the literature teacher didn’t let it affect her. “We are pleased to have you with us for another semester. I personally look forward to reading your original writing in my class. I heard you finished a novel last year?”

Acknowledging what she’d learned from her past experiences, Wednesday humbled herself slightly before the teacher. “It requires intense revision. Only an arrogant author believes their first draft is perfect.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re open to accepting feedback,” The woman replied. “I’m happy to help you reach your dreams of publishing anyway I can.” She opened Wednesday’s folder, scribbling a quick note on her course schedule, neatly in the margin by I. Franklin. “These are my office hours. But more important times for you to know this weekend are listed here,” She gestured to the schedule of activities that Wednesday refused to gaze at until she was in a room that had fewer people to maim when she reacted to her lack of solitude that would befall her. “The cafeteria will be offering full service this evening at the banquet, but light refreshments are available in the Quad until supper if you need a pick-me-up after your travels. Ms. Addams,” She spoke genuinely, “We are all lucky to have you. Enjoy your Welcome Weekend.” Wednesday took her folder, black, which she didn’t acknowledge but knew had been selected special for her as every other one splayed out on the table in alphabetical order was the school’s classic navy.

“Hey, I’ll let you get settled in, but text me when you’re headed to dinner later! Or, don’t, actually, you probably won’t…have time, or…don’t want to, but that’s okay! I’ll just see you there!” Eugene fumbled his way through an exit with her and returned to his mothers. Wednesday thought she’d have no choice but to acknowledge her own once again, but another familiar face kept her from Morticia’s oppressive concerns and pride.

“Wednesday,” Bianca greeted her, a dazzling smile and intense blue stare meeting her own without hesitation, unlike so many at Nevermore. “Welcome back. Your presence is certainly noticed around here,” She gestured to the never-ending stares in the foyer. “Let’s get you to Ophelia Hall, yes? Same room as last year?”

With a nod, Wednesday stared at Bianca’s offered elbow, then back at her eyes, not about to touch the taller girl. She did step up beside her and allow her to lead, the paths and throngs of students parting at both of their intense personalities. “I was pleased you responded to my messages this summer. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting replies.”

Wednesday considered their digital communications. She hadn’t minded exchanging thoughts with Bianca. She had sent a series of photographs of her sword collection, with well-written transcriptions of the origin and make of each. Bianca had shared her own, and the back-and-forth went on for several weeks. At her bravest, Wednesday sent her a video that Pugsly took of her throwing her shiny new shuriken perfectly at a series of moving targets that Thing had been pulling the levers to. Bianca had then been left on read when requesting that Wednesday formally join the fencing team that fall instead of simply partaking for sport.

“I trust you received my last message, the invitation to join my team. We could really use a talent like yours. You are one of the only people who’s ever given me any real run for my money, and it seems that you’re constantly finding ways to challenge and improve yourself.”

“I haven’t made any commitments to extracurricular activities beyond bee keeping this semester,” Wednesday deflected a touch. With her own personal investigation into Weems’s death, nay, disappearance, she didn’t want to over schedule her free time.

“What courses are you taking?” Bianca wondered.

Rather than reply, Wednesday took out her schedule and handed it to the siren as they wandered slowly through the hallways to her lodging.

Introduction to Entomology Seminar – Dr. K. Gallor
Numeracy I – Mr. S. Rewbury
Literature: Muse & Poetry – Ms. I. Franklin
Celestial Studies I – Mr. J. Harlow
Historical Perspectives on Magic – Ms. S. Addice
Independent Study / Psychic – Overseen by Dr. J. Zypher

“Your independent study mentor is the new administrator?”

Snatching the paper back, Wednesday felt heat creep into her gut, having not known that. An absolute sense of anger and betrayal swirled up into her blood. Why would a damn reptile expert be the one to ensure she wasn’t dabbling in the dark arts? The only logical response was that despite saving the school from their very nature, Nevermore’s governing body still didn’t trust Wednesday. She could feel her mask slipping, emotions pouring out of her.

“Wednesday?”

Having practically forgotten that her mother was still in her presence, Wednesday shifted into her stoic shell once more, burying the sting of treason that she felt all the way to her core. “My mother has a long drive back home,” She said in a direct change of subject to Bianca, implying she needed to attend to her move-in. “I will see you at dinner.”

Bianca gave a genuine goodbye, telling her she looked forward to a competitive semester with her and Morticia fell in step with her daughter. “I love seeing you with your friends.”

Ignoring the compliment, Wednesday stuffed her schedule back in the folder as they finally arrived at a familiar room, where the names Enid and Wednesday were neatly threaded into embroidery hoops that hung on the wall beside the door. Sure it wasn’t the neat needlework of her chaotic friend, a lingering thought in her mind was as to who’d made the handmade signs, and if they’d stitched one for everyone.

Losing the thought in surprise that she’d beat her bubbly blonde roommate to campus, Wednesday almost closed the door on Lurch as she’d been so distracted at all that had transpired in the last twenty minutes that she’d forgotten his presence, too.

Nevermore Academy really did do a number on her psyche each time she passed through the doors.

“Thank you,” She said firmly as he placed two large trunks near the bed that had been Wednesday’s the spring previously as she assumed that Enid would be okay with keeping their perspective sides of the room. Lurch gave a nod, then went down for the others. Morticia took a moment to look wistfully out the window. Wednesday knew she was desperate to say something – to make a connection with her daughter in the space. Throwing her a rare bone, Wednesday approached the circular look into the outside world, wondering, “Did your room at Nevermore have a balcony, too?”

“Indeed,” She recalled with the fondest of smiles. “Larissa and I loved a cool autumn night, sitting under the stars, trying to understand our astrology homework during our first Sophomore semester. Perhaps we were too full of gossip to complete it; or I truly don’t have a knack for peering into the cosmos.” She winked at Wednesday. “I believe you’ll be able to read into the heavens far better than I.”

“It is difficult to reconcile many ancient pagan beliefs regarding astronomy with present day scientific exploration,” Wednesday commented, making conversation with genuine thoughts she had surrounding the topic. “The majority of the ways of potions and spells still hold as the arts have developed into science over time and most have forgotten the methods of old that still stand true despite genetic seed modification. However, space could never be touched or manipulated by mankind until this past hundred years, and so many of the old considerations have been long debunked.”

Morticia slinked over so she was just inches from her daughter. “Don’t let your intelligence cloud your belief, my brilliant darkness.” She took a thin finger, gently lifting the longer portions of Wednesday’s dark bangs on the left side, stroking affectionately. “My wish for you, is that your year brings far less peril, and you can have those lovely moments under the stars, surrounded by friends, feeling as happy as you can.”

Giving the smallest nod, a movement so miniscule anyone else might’ve missed it, Wednesday placed her folder on the desk closest to her bed, taking out the schedule of welcome weekend activities to see when she needed to plan for an unexpected illness or injury.

Friday Evening
6:00PM Welcome Address from Dr. Zypher, Semi-Formal Dinner
8:00PM Hall Meeting

Saturday
Breakfast Hours 7:00AM – 9:00AM
9:00AM Ophelia Hall – CORE, Astronomy Tower
11:00AM Ophelia Hall – Woods & Lake, Canoe to Raven Island Welcome Game, Lunch
6:00PM Dinner
8:30PM Bonfire in the Quad

Sunday
Breakfast Hours 7:00AM – 10:00AM
11:00AM – 4:00PM trip to Jericho, Lunch credits provided for use in town
6:00PM Dinner

Supposing it wasn’t as miserably booked as she was expecting, Wednesday glanced at Lurch carrying her cello in an awkwardly large hand and immediately wished she’d lugged it up the steps herself. She was itching to practice on the balcony sometime that weekend, as the space was really more aesthetic for instrumental strings than her bedroom in the manor was. Wednesday noted the time, finding it odd that Enid hadn’t arrived at Nevermore by five when the agenda had them starting in just over an hour. Observing her mother place the crystal ball on her desk, Wednesday gave a touch of a deeper frown, not ready to think about communicating home when she hadn’t even been alone in her space. She opened her backpack, taking out her phone and reading a series of messages from Enid:

09:13AM My flight was delayed by an hour (grumpy face) Still hoping to see you by 4:30 your time!
11:34AM OMG my flight was delayed AGAIN so I just dont think Ill be making it before 6 tragically
12:21PM I found a song you might like! It’s called I Wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones (coffin) and Im finally boarded but probably wont be at school until after dinner has already started (crying face)


Feeling her eye all but twitch, Wednesday put the device away and watched her mother rifle through a trunk, about to help her settle in. “While I appreciate your maternal instinct at work, Enid and I might rearrange furniture and I’d hate to have it all in the way.”

“Well, then,” Morticia stared at her daughter fondly. “I suppose it will be some time before I’ll see you again. Wednesday,” She whispered, gently putting a thumb on Wednesday’s chin and forcing her to look up. “Please, remember, grief takes time to work through. You watched someone die in this very place. It’s likely going to bring back intense feelings, negative feelings. That doesn’t mean that someone we lost is coming back to us. You cannot step into that realm of black magic, my love.”

Letting her gaze drift, Wednesday knew arguing was pointless. “I don’t want to have to call the new administration and intervene. But if I suspect you’re acting out on dangerous fantasies…”

“Goodbye, mother. I shall see you at the close of semester,” Wednesday turned sharply, opening the window and stepping out to the balcony, breathing deeply as she relished in her final hour of solitude for the weekend.

X

Wednesday waited until the clock struck six on the dot before sauntering to the first dinner of the school year. She had no true desire to listen to the new administrator welcome them to campus, and she wasn’t quite ready to navigate the social scene of dinner without Enid as a buffer for everyone’s excited attitudes. She had tugged on a black dress that fell just below her knees of an appropriate fabric weight for end of summer and start of fall. Black velour diamond shapes accented the material in a symmetrical fashion, and the sleeves ended at her elbow, with a triangular collar to match. With a pair of sheer-black stockings tucked into a simple ankle boot with a half-inch wedged heel, she hoped it met the dress code requirement, but also – didn’t exactly care if she didn’t.

She frowned as she scanned the room and discovered there was still no Enid, though plenty of peers waved to her, some more excitedly than others. Xavier gave her a smile and Wednesday hoped he’d worked hard to squash any lingering feelings of a crush that he’d left the school with. She hadn’t minded their digital communications over the summer wand wanted to keep him as a friend, but wouldn’t tolerate if he continually sought after more. Yoko gave an excited beam with a peace sign when they locked eyes even behind her sunglasses, Bianca regarded her again, gesturing to an open spot, but Wednesday found her body moving of its own accord to her first real acquaintance that she’d been fond of, Eugene, who had plenty of open space at his table.  He seemed genuinely surprised that she’d elected to sit with him, about to speak when a hush fell over the assembly of students.

Wednesday looked up to see the figure that had been on the introductory letter she’d burned. A woman with a stature nearly a foot shorter than Ms. Weems entered the room, though the red-bottomed heels on her feet gave her a solid four-inch boost. The red waterfall of hair was parted severely to the right, slicked back on the side. Piercing blue eyes were reflected in the candlelit room, where sun from the late summer month still managing to stream in through the top windows added to the glow about her round face. She had on a touch of a smile, but more that, she wore an all-black, perfectly tailored suit on her otherwise ordinarily built frame. The sleek silk collar was making Wednesday feel a touch of regret at not having such a well-fitting piece in her own wardrobe.

The part of her wardrobe that was the most shocking, to Wednesday’s delight that she dared not show, was a pure white snake that perfectly coiled around her neck that she carried with the poise of a pearl necklace.

“Greetings, Nevermore Academy. I’m Dr. Josephine Zypher, and I am so honored to be here with you as your new administrator this school year.” Several seniors up front started a round of applause, which Wednesday stared intensely through as Eugene first brought his hands together, then awkwardly back to his lap when he realized his tablemate wasn’t clapping. “I am a Nevermore alumnus from the class of 2002. I grew up an Outcast in with a psychic predisposition. I know that while this school certainly has its moments, there is no better institution to prevent us from being cast aside for our many talents.” She paused, shifting her weight just slightly, drawing her hands in front of her.

“I will not pretend that Nevermore is a perfect place. This past spring proved that even a safe place such as this can be overcome with the alarming trend of outsiders violating sacred institutions. Much was lost, by the tragedy of Laurel Gates. Your certainty and peace of mind, but also, your beloved principal, Larissa Weems.”

If it wouldn’t have drawn so much attention, Wednesday would have stormed out of the room. The woman at the front had no business discussing the twisted events that had nothing to do with her, far yet, bringing up her predecessor. Her fingers curled into fists, and just as her jaw settled into a rageful sneer, a very gentle arm curled around the back of her chair, careful fingertips barely grazing the seam of her sleeve in what might’ve appeared to be a side-hug to some. Looking up and to the side, she saw a travel-weary Enid offering her a sincere and sympathetic expression. All but relaxing at her sudden presence, Wednesday let her shoulders drop a touch of their tension as Enid used the leverage on her seat to subtly slip into the empty one at her side.

“…Larissa Weems did not die in vain. And it is due to the bravery of many of you in attendance today, that we can be gathered here at Nevermore, in her memory, to learn and grow as the Outcasts we are meant to be.”

More applause echoed through the banquet hall, but Wednesday merely continued to keep her eyes locked on her friend as she took the sound to whisper a hello with a wink, “Hi! I hate that I’m late. Thanks for saving me a seat!”

Wednesday simply stated in a low voice, “I’m glad you’re here.”

At that, Enid positively flushed and visibly restrained herself from offering Wednesday anything like another hug without her consent.

“…Far more will be shared with you about how we are going to handle what took place here at Nevermore, some new procedures for safety, and other ways we are going to help your journey, including some new on-site mental health professionals.” At the thought, Wednesday could no longer hold back an eyeroll. “I want to take a moment to introduce them, along with all of our staff, of which, there are quite a few new faces. The Board of Nevermore, made up of alumni, parents, current and former faculty, worked tirelessly this summer to vet all of the staff on campus, to ensure that we do not have any other incidents due to the qualifications or hidden agendas of our employees. We want each of you to be comfortable with the adults who mentor and educate you, professionally, and personally. I know we will all work together to create trust and community here at Nevermore.”

There was a final round of introductory applause and Wednesday leaned back just slightly in her seat as the rest of the staff stepped up to the stage, waiting to be introduced. The ordeal was entirely too long and Wednesday was already angry and closing in on hungry – a dangerous combination for her. Anyone could open the school website on their myriad of technological devices, and she felt the whole pomp and circumstance of having everyone called up for a special introduction and a wave was a poor use of her time.

Finally, as the old man who was to be her astronomy teacher hobbled off stage with his cane, dinner was served. Not even in the mood to criticize the cafeteria food, Wednesday served herself when the shared dishes came to their table. Enid started chattering right away, and the dark-haired teen couldn’t put into words for someone if they held a gun to her head, the exact emotion of comfort she felt as the blonde babbled beside her, and Eugene made his happy, low humming noises in his throat (much like a bee) while filling his plate.

About halfway through eating, Ajax approached their table, glancing first at Wednesday, who didn’t leer him away, as if asking permission. He then put a hand on Enid’s shoulder blades to cut off her train of thought, earning her squeal as she stood up, knocking over her chair with a clatter in the process. The sound cut through the hall for a long moment of silence, earning the attention of most to their table as her arms were tossed around her boyfriend and his snaked their way around her waist. “Good to finally see you, He said softly, in his shy way. Wednesday felt that it spoke volumes that the blonde had seen her first instead of her boyfriend.

Enid was surprisingly quiet in his hug, and Wednesday realized it was likely some sort of emotional reaction she was trying to keep subtle thankfully. The murmur returned to chatter for the rest of the student body, though as she looked up to glare at any continued onlookers in her roommate’s defense, Wednesday found a set of eyes that she was still less ready to confront in person. Xavier had a soft yet questioning smile on as he stared at her table from a seat with his hall-mates. Wednesday tilted her head just slightly, in a way that she hoped conveyed later. She was not in a state to discuss anything related to feelings with anyone, let alone him. She was just warming up to the idea that she was back with friends, and didn’t want to have to deal with unwanted love interests on top of everything else.

Xavier gave a very tiny nod in response and Wednesday was sure there must’ve been a beat of relief passing across her features before she turned her attention to Ajax and Enid. Her best friend beamed at her, the look conveying something like a promise – that though Ajax was important in her life, Wednesday was far more-so in many ways. That was proved when she wondered instead of assumed, “Wednesday, do you mind if Ajax sits with us for the rest of dinner?”

Appreciating that Enid asked first and knowing she’d have plenty of time with the girl on their own later, Wednesday gave a nod. “Ajax,” She regarded him, dredging up skills that she’d long been trained on though never used, to make small talk. “I trust your break was restful.”

“Hey, yeah,” He was caught off-guard at her practically normal greeting after months apart. “My father helped me find a part-time job doing masonry in landscaping. He thought that working with stone and getting to be in control of it would help some of my own anxiety. I thought it was BS at first, but I actually liked it and it kept me busy.”

“Enid mentioned as such. The trades are rapidly depleting from the underfunded public education of Normies. It will be important we know how to perform our own labor if we expect to upkeep the traditional architecture we admire.”

He blinked a few times, first, likely surprised that she was complimenting him in a roundabout way, and making conversation at all, at that. “Yeah, you know…” He shrugged, a hand up as he leaned his other elbow a bit to the table. Enid was thankfully careful not to let herself give in to any teenage stereotypes and show-off unwanted physical affection beside Wednesday and Eugene. “Xavier’s our resident tortured artist, but I’d like to make a bit of a hobby of restoration around here.”

“A good use of time,” Wednesday said before ending the discussion by poking her fork into another slice of beef. Eugene practiced his own social skills, mentioning he'd also enjoyed working with a local farmer that summer, helping with hives around a peach orchard and field of berries to increase pollination in his local area.

“I liked working, too! I was in a super trendy boutique in downtown SanFran, it was fun, even if I did more folding and hanging of clothes than recommending styles. At least it was something to do that got me out of the house and away from my mother,” She said with an eye-roll. Wednesday gave a look, wondering if she’d elaborate on that any time soon. They both had contentious relationships with their mothers, but from what she understood, Enid’s was a touch more vicious than pretentious. “And I was so super careful to save my paychecks instead of spending them all in store so that I could actually enjoy this semester without having to beg my dad to sneak me money.”

“I’m sure you didn’t work this summer, Wednesday?” Ajax questioned in a tone that conveyed as much humor as he could.

“I’m not fit for traditional employment,” She confirmed. “My mother and father would prefer that I do not participate in capitalism to the maximum extent possible until I am of age.”

Ajax smiled, glancing at Enid. “Enid mentioned you were keeping busy though. I’m glad you were able to enjoy your break – as much as you enjoy anything.” Biting back a side smirk, Wednesday shifted her attention back to finishing her meal. As dinner wrapped up, the Pitch Slaps performed a melody of summer hits for the student body and faculty before everyone was dismissed to their perspective halls for their meetings.

They trailed to a set of familiar steps, Wednesday a few paces behind Enid, who was wrapped up in eager hugs from Yoko and other hall members, excited to catch up in person, despite a summer likely locked to their devices chatting about anything and everything that came to mind. Wednesday shuffled slowly as not to interrupt and claim any unwanted attention, content to let the girls reunite so that she could have a moment’s peace. Just as she was about to ascend the stairs, Wednesday found herself nearly running into the shoulder of her new administrator, who was a solid nine inches shorter than the previous now that they were close.

“Wednesday Addams, good evening,” Dr. Zypher offered her an unreadable expression. “I’d like a word with you prior to your hall meeting. I won’t keep you long.”

Figuring it was at least worth an attempt at starting a relationship on a good note and knowing it was unavoidable to see the woman who was apparently her mentor in addition to her disciplinarian, Wednesday merely followed the redhead to…

She was suddenly frozen in place about two steps away from the office doors, where the name Principal Weems had been replaced on the outside wall. Realizing she was about to enter the space that she’d spent far more time in than most Nevermore students in the spring, but had become something of a strange and familiar safe space to her, Wednesday couldn’t budge.

Dr. Zypher opened the door, about to speak, then turned around and took in Wednesday’s expression. Not hearing her name called repeatedly, Wednesday suddenly leaned back, head up, eyes wide as Dr. Zypher touched her arm in an attempt to get her attention.

“In all honesty and with all due respect, Mr. Griffith, I do appreciate the offer. I feel honored to even be considered for such a position. However, I’m not sure I have the practical experience to lead a school full of gifted teenagers. While I’ve chaired a department for years now, that’s a very different sort of leadership.”

“Your hesitation is understandable, Dr. Zypher,” A tall, lanky man with male-pattern baldness spoke with a baritone voice. His red wine-colored dress shirt was rolled to his elbows, the top button undone, black pants neatly pressed. “Leading a school like Nevermore requires an incredibly unique skillset. Unfortunately, it’s one that entails mostly on-the-job learning, as there isn’t exactly a professional development course we can give you. Thankfully, one of the duties assigned to each administrator by us on the Board is to keep a journal of each academic year. Larissa Weems was an expert in her record-keeping, as you might imagine. You will have plenty of information on the current student body and how to handle the challenges that come along with disciplining highly sensitive and incredibly smart children.”

Dr. Zypher still didn’t appear convinced, red hair falling just a touch in front of her eye as the white snake on her neck slid slightly down her arm, wrapping itself around her elbow and trailing to her wrist, as if to give a reassuring nuzzle. “I’m still not sure someone with the psychic abilities to communicate with reptiles and who’s exclusively taught herpetology is the best fit for this position. I’d still be honored to transfer to Nevermore as a teacher and perhaps mentor, as I had previously discussed with Weems, it would be a significant change for me, but one I was ready to make.”

“Principal Weems left big shoes to fill, Dr. Zypher,” Mr. Griffith said softly, with a gentle smile on his dark features, his fangs visible. “But our board has meditated extensively. We’ve searched dozens of souls and cast plenty of tarot. We believe that the destiny of leadership is best placed in your capable hands.”

“I don’t want to fill someone else’s shoes,” Dr. Zypher said. “Especially those that met such a tragic end. I won’t pretend to be someone else.”

“That is one of our hallmarks here, if you’ll recall, the O in CORE,” Mr. Griffith argued with a touch of amusement. “We know this isn’t what you were expecting. But sometimes, it is the unexpected and unplanned that provide us with the greatest opportunities for growth and change. I urge you to consider becoming principal of Nevermore Academy.”

Dr. Zypher let a moment of quiet pass before wondering, “How will the students react to this?”

“Largely, the student body here is capable of flexible thinking. They all left here knowing a change would come. They want someone who will take an interest in them but allow them to grow and be themselves.”

With a sigh, she glanced down at the snake, encircling her fingers in a weave. “What about the Addams girl? She’s the reason I’m coming here at all, as I’m sure you’re aware. I don’t know that attempting to discipline her and mentor her is going to work.”

Mr. Griffith’s posture shifted a touch. “I haven’t personally interacted with her. Obviously, she’s difficult. You’ll have access to her file if you accept the position, so you can see exactly what you’ll be up against. Wednesday did save this school. It was unconventional, dark, and all based on her generally suspicious nature. But,” He sighed, “She was right. Her instincts, tenacity, and pension for violence are the reason that our student body is alive and well and returning for instruction. We owe her more than she’d accept. From what I understand, she’s an incredibly tough nut to crack. In the end, it seems that Larissa had developed a relationship with her, perhaps often strained. Earning her trust will likely be the most challenging part of your job, along with keeping her in line. Nevermore believes in Wednesday Addams. And though she wouldn’t admit it, Wednesday Addams needs Nevermore Academy.”

There was distinct sadness and uncertainty on Dr. Zypher’s features, as if she knew far more about Nevermore and Wednesday Addams than she was willing to let on to the Board member.

Coming out of the vision, which while far from positive, had blessedly not been violent, she locked eyes with Dr. Zypher. She was grateful that the universe had decided to share that moment with her as she was sure the woman would likely have kept much of that conversation a secret. “Are you alright?” She gave a single nod, taking a moment to breathe, still stiff, pulling away from the touch the woman had on her mid-back that had possibly kept her from falling over. “How about a glass of water?” Wednesday shook her head, not one to accept comfort under normal circumstances, particularly not after any sort of vision.

“Would you prefer to talk elsewhere?” Dr. Zypher shifted just a touch, “We don’t have to have a conversation in the office. I apologize, I didn’t consider how entering this space might make you feel.”

Snapping out of the physical effects of the vision, she stepped around the new principal and into the room. Wednesday took a moment to observe, animosity building up inside her like Ajax had described his layers of cement. Despite Dr. Zypher’s claimed hesitation in taking over Larissa Weems’s role in the vision, she’d certainly made a swift transformation to the office. The space was nearly unrecognizable from Weems’s display, all reverence for the beloved dead birds replaced with curious living reptiles. Anger twisted in her gut, and Wednesday had to exercise sheer will not to act on it. She refused to lose control and break the vintage, possibly century-old tanks stood all around the room – at least on her first visit.

All around the perimeter and in a sort of rhombus shape in the center of the room, twisted wood curled in lovely posts, holding glass together with all sorts of creatures, plants and soils inside. There were a half-dozen reptiles of various colors and sizes, each terrarium having a little golden plaque with the name and species affixed to it.

Wednesday found herself drawn to a black lizard with a desert-like set-up, noting her name as Elvira. Taking a few slow steps around to examine her fully, Wednesday found herself next in front of a small, gray leaf-tailed gecko with a long nose and massive orange eyes. Bending just slightly to examine the ridges along Norman’s tail, she turned around and found Dr. Zypher lifting her arm for the snake around her neck to shift towards her elbow.

“Are the others perturbed that you have a favorite who does not live in captivity?”

“Reptiles don’t typically catalogue feelings like jealousy in the sense that humans do,” Dr. Zypher replied, smiling at the white snake on her arm. “Altair is my favorite because he saved my life once, and I was able to use modified behaviorism along with my psychic abilities to genuinely befriend him. It’s an effort that cannot be sustained onto all of my reptiles, but they do have plenty of time out of their enclosures to scamper about.” She clarified, “Most of them had been injured and left for dead in the wild. They likely wouldn’t live independently without my care and support.”

“Survival of the fittest.” Wednesday gave a metaphorical shrug of disinterest. “If they are too weak for their natural environment, they weren’t meant to be in it.”

“Agreed,” Dr. Zypher did not wish to argue, clearly, on their first interaction. “However, these are all incredibly rare reptiles. Without my intervention and ability to provide rehabilitation and subsequent work with fellow herpetologists to assist in reproduction, they likely would’ve been extinct before my tenure here.”

“Darwin would have something to say about that, too.” Wednesday glanced at another reptile, a long-bodied creature she couldn’t identify without the plaque – a skink named Carrie.

“Darwin didn’t exist in a century where dramatic climate change was threatening the very existence of his own species, let alone others. But, I don’t want to keep you long, so let’s discuss the ethics of my work another time. How would you prefer I refer to you – Wednesday, or Ms. Addams?”

“Most of the educators in my life use my first name when they are exasperated and displeased with me, and my last in an attempt to demonstrate they are authority figures when they need to discipline me.”

Dr. Zypher couldn’t hide her small smirk once more. “Well, Wednesday, I am going to do my best not to find myself exasperated, displeased, or having a need to discipline you. Though, for that to occur, I will require a touch of cooperation from you.” She gestured to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Wednesday sat stiffly in one, staring at the empty hearth with memories of the last time she’d seen it full of fire. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want any sort of public acknowledgement for what you did for Nevermore last spring. I suspect you’ve already been shown much gratitude by your peers and staff, but I know you seek your own attention, rather than wanting it given to you. I do not mean that in an insulting way,” She clarified. “I am much the same – I like for my work to stand on merit and will happily accept accolades from my peers in the field but am also known to camouflage with my hair if someone sings happy birthday to me.”

Wednesday was surprised that the new principal had figured that out so quickly. She didn’t think any of her public-school teachers had ever realized that her attention-seeking behaviors were largely vengeful or to escape a situation. Otherwise, she preferred to be out of the spotlight unless it was beneath the warm glow of one on the stage with her beloved instrument.

“I do not need praise or thanks from anyone. Let alone you, who were not here when the events occurred.”

“Regardless, as an alumnus who knows how important this school is for the students who go here, I am grateful that Nevermore stands to have the doors open for those who otherwise would not have a place to learn. I am appreciative that you were willing to do whatever it took to ensure that. I also want you to know, I will do my best to listen to you when you come to me with any suspicions or concerns. I want to trust your instincts and work with you instead of against you. But, trust is earned. Your heroic deeds do not fully outshine your very long history.”

“The people when rightfully trusted will return the trust,” Wednesday quoted the sixteenth president with a warning tone. Glancing at the clock above the mantel and noting it was already two past the hour, she ended the conversation. “I’m headed to my hall meeting.”

Dr. Zypher stood as Wednesday did, finding a hopeful expression on her features. “Thank you for your time, Wednesday. I do sincerely look forward to getting to know you as a person, rather than a file full of misdeeds. I know you’re capable of so much and hope to see you use your power for good this semester. Welcome back to Nevermore. I shall see you around campus, and personally on Friday morning for your first session in your independent study. If you would like to talk further prior to then, my door will always be open for you. I wish you a good night.”

Walking into her meeting just as the hall residents were gathered in a semi-circle on couches, chairs, or the wooden floor of a common room, Wednesday slinked in quietly, adding herself to the end of the circle after determining which side had begun, knowing she likely wouldn’t get away with the move. Realizing that Ms. Franklin was her hall director for the year, Wednesday’s insides relaxed just slightly. Her literature teacher hadn’t yet managed to aggravate her in the way that other adults at the school had. When Enid finished on the opposite side of her, she gave Wednesday a wink and a smile, “- and I’m Wednesday’s roommate!” Almost growling at the attention it earned her, Wednesday merely lifted her index and middle finger on her left hand in her greeting.

“Thank you, everyone for sharing. I look forward to getting to know you and assist as needed. This semester I will be guiding you through a program called Bloody Feet.” That found a touch of a grin on Wednesday’s features. “This comes from a quote by abolitionist and women’s suffragette leader, Abby Kelley Foster, who famously said, ‘Bloody feet, sisters, have worn smooth the path by which you come hither.’ We are going to spend a few hours every other week researching suffragettes, how they paved the way for women to have political voice, where they erred, and how all of this applies to us Outcasts today. I believe this will be very interesting to view from our unique perspective. Any guesses as to why this is so important for us?”

“When they were able to hide their Outcast status, many of our ancestors benefitted from the political oppression that occurred from the seventeenth through twentieth centuries,” Wednesday began, eyes locked on a knot in the wood grain floor. “Those of us born into privilege must acknowledge and learn the ways of the genuine suffragettes, not just those who stopped when white women earned their votes.”

“What is a genuine suffragette?” A quiet, new student questioned Wednesday. She clearly didn’t know better, though Wednesday didn’t mind elaborating.

“Suffragists believed in using legal means to achieve their often short-sighted and selfish goals,” She clarified. “A true suffragette used any means necessary, and for all people.” Wednesday glanced at Ms. Franklin out of the corner of her eye. “Because you said she was an abolitionist, I assume this Abby Kelley Foster to be a true suffragette, not simply ensuring a white woman could vote alongside her land-owning husband to boost his pork-barreling pals in congress?”

“A keen observation,” Ms. Franklin nodded, hiding a smile at her phrasing. “Yes, I believe Wednesday articulated beautifully why it is so important for us as Outcasts to study history, especially history that isn’t always told honestly. We will work together every other Sunday afternoon to uncover the truth and draw conclusions as we move forward ourselves in the world. Now, for the less fun business we must discuss tonight…” She stood, reaching for a bag that contained an inch-thick black binder for each of them, with their name, hall, and year printed on neat paper in the front sleeve.

Opening the cover, Wednesday found a neatly tabbed looseleaf book. The first section was Rules & Guidelines, followed by Hall Work, and finally, Problem-Solving.

“We will briefly review the rules and guidelines this evening. We will use the second section for our time together through history. The Problem-Solving tab is for you to use to try and work out interpersonal issues prior to coming to me. Or I might refer you to a resource inside to try when you do.” She sat back down, flipping to the rules, having the girls take turns reading them and clarifying any misconceptions they had.

“Finally, as a faculty, we hope to set some new guidelines for our lovely grounds. We know that it is nearly impossible to keep you from exploring our woods, our lake and island. We are fortunate to have such beautiful spaces accessible to us. However, given the events from last spring and other sordid moments over the years, we would like to strongly encourage you to save the majority of your exploration for daytime hours. We would like for you to ensure you are not alone if you go out after dark, we would appreciate you informing an adult of where you are going, and we have Apple AirTags available for you to take out so that if the worst does happen, we can find you easily. These are in the guidelines section for a reason. We recognize that you are teenagers. We want to respect your space, needs, curiosity and creativity. But we are trying to prioritize safety at Nevermore and feel that these reasonable steps could help to keep you safe.”

Wednesday bit her tongue at the notion of a having a tracking device on her being about the least-safe she would ever feel. Understanding the why behind it, that the adults at the school were trying everything to cover their asses and not be sued by upset parents, she simply remained silent, not realizing the meeting had ended until there was shuffling around her. Ms. Franklin was suddenly in front of her, a book in her hand, sticky noted all over. “Chapter three has a short biography of Abby Kelley Franklin. I think it might be worth a read, if you’re interested.”

“Thank you,” She said softly, taking the book before making haste to Enid, finally returning to their quarters for the night.

They entered the room with a mutual sigh, Enid ending hers in a giggle while Wednesday fought her smile. Locking the door, Wednesday went to the closet, locating a pair of comfortable black pants and top to pull on instead of the stuffy dress, which she neatly hung back up in the closet. She found Enid shuffling suitcases about, seeing that most of her things were stuffed into the newly opened closet as she’d not taken the majority to San Fransisco over break. She wondered, “Did you want to make aesthetic changes or keep things largely the way they were last semester?”

Enid looked thrilled to be asked her opinion on the arrangement of the room. “I know you like to have your own space, so I’m cool with leaving it the way it was.”

Wednesday offered, “I can move my desk to the back alcove so that my typewriter isn’t as close to your sleeping area.”

Her blonde friend lifted a sweet shoulder. “I missed your clacking keys all summer. It’s like white noise to me now. Or, maybe black noise. I won’t even rag on your creepy little dead squirrel friend. Though, maybe we can keep the gore to a minimum? I’m still having a hard time dealing with what I do during that time of the month and would prefer not to have visual reminders of it.”

Nodding, Wednesday found herself saying anyway, “I will move my desk to the back wall, and my bed here. For symmetrical purposes.”

Enid clearly swallowed her comment about Wednesday allowing herself to be physically closer, she could see it staying deep in her throat. Appreciative as she wouldn’t admit it, naturally, she accepted Enid’s assistance in carefully sliding the twin-size bed more toward the large round window, and the heavy, antique desk back to the cut-out wall. The move would also provide more of an intimate alcove for her workspace, hiding her secrets from prying eyes. They worked together to fight Wednesday’s fitted sheet onto her mattress before smoothing her beige and black quilt on top, fluffing pillows. Moving to return the favor for her roommate without prompting, Wednesday rolled her eyes when Enid teased, “Sure your skin isn’t going to peel off if you touch my pink fuzzy blanket?”

Once their beds were made, Enid started moving her mountain of stuffed animals out of the closet, pausing after a minute, eyes wide in a panic as she realized, “Is Thing okay?!”

“Oh, yes,” Wednesday lifted a shoulder. “He’s on the annual Addams’ summer trip. It’s now turned into a boy’s trip as I found the cabin in the woods unstimulating for the last several years and did not want to spend my last few days prior to resuming studies away from home. My brother still needs practice fending off bears and shooting arrows. My mother enjoyed stifling me with attempts at mother-daughter bonding during these past few weeks. At least I could suffer with indoor plumbing. Thing will return in short time.”

Enid wondered, “How will he get here?”

“Likely my father, or Cousin Itt will see that he is dropped off along their way back from the Maine woods.”

“Cousin Itt? Wednesday, that’s…pretty offensive, even for you. I know you’re aware of they/them pronouns…”

Wednesday closed her eyes for a moment, remembering to breathe. “Itt’s his name.”

Enid opened her mouth, then snapped it shut in a smile. “Of course. Itt will drop off Thing.” She giggled and went back to pulling stuffed creatures from the closet.

Wednesday opened her typewriter, tucking its case under the bed, along with the crystal ball and her nixie clock in a similar position. After setting up the gramophone and lining her minimal trinkets (including that creepy squirrel) up, she rocked on her toes for a moment before appearing in front of Enid, making her jump slightly, dropping a stuffed white cat with an oversized head and bright pink bow. “Can I help?”

“Promise you won’t put them in disturbing positions?” Enid asked with a playful pout.

“It would be a piecut promise if I ever made one,” She replied, but did largely follow through as she delicately placed stuffed animals in a careful arrangement like a florist and her stems. There was one open-mouthed creature that she stuffed a smaller one into, but Enid had only laughed and kept it as Wednesday set it up.

Enid had far more bric-a-brac and tedious trinkets to put out than Wednesday, but she didn’t comment on the volume of stuff as she unwrapped ceramic unicorns and perfume bottles with all of seven droplets left in many them. “Why don’t you finish one and then get a new one?”

“Different smells give me different feelings! When I spray Ariana, I remember the way I felt when I first came to Nevermore, since that’s what I had on. When I put on Glam Princess, I feel like I’m ready to take on something hard, like the first time I aced a Numeracy test instead of having Mr. Rewbury make me cry. And of course, when I wear Britney Spears, I ironically think of you, since that’s what I had on when we met! But, I guess I never followed up on our little…argument. Do my scents actually bother you? I know some people are super sensitive to smells. All Furs are, I’m not sure about psychics?”

“My olfactory system is keen, but it is not actually offended by your fruity, flowery morning explosions. That was another comment I made in rage-form. I am attempting to communicate more effectively with you this semester,” She said honestly. “And, I think it’s clever to use various smells to evoke different feelings.”

“What’s that little black bottle you use?”

“It’s called Sinner. Unfortunately, a few years ago it was uncovered that the originator of the company it was created under is an anti-vax propaganda-spreading neo-Nazi. The company was bought out and they discontinued it. I must procure it on the secondary market.”

“What a bummer,” Enid mumbled. “If you ever want to hunt for something new, I’m totes down for a perfume shopping trip! We can find something to make you smell like Wednesday. It just takes a lot of spice!”

“I guess that makes you sugar, then.” She settled the last of the perfumes (nine in all) on Enid’s shelf.

The blonde lifted a box of polaroid photos next, most of her and her friends from the fall before, but there was a few of her and Ajax together from the end of the semester that she retrieved from her suitcase. She clipped them to a string of lights above her desk, as Wednesday perched on the edge of her bed behind her, handing her one at a time. When she got to the last clip, she looked at the stack in Wednesday’s hands, then rummaged through her suitcase again. Enid pouted at her best friend as she held a pink camera up, which Wednesday assumed would spit out a photo directly after it was taken. “Can we have one picture together? Pretty please with a cherry and those little swirly 98% dark chocolate shreds you like on top?”  

Trying not to let her eyes roll out of her head, Wednesday supposed it was a very normal thing for friends to do together. Giving a single nod, she winced at Enid’s excited squeal as she crawled on the bed beside her, holding the camera backwards and positively beaming. Wednesday softened her features and found a ghost of a smile. Sensing Enid holding back a lot of restraint in not hugging her, she slid off the bed after being all but blinded by the flash going off. “Thank you, Wednesday!”

Wednesday gathered up her simple black toiletry bag, heading out wordlessly to the bathroom. When she returned, she saw Enid looking fondly at the photo that had developed. It was a nice picture. Enid hung it up on her last clip, positively giddy. “It’s perfect!”

“If you say so. Though,” She held the camera up to Enid once again, gesturing for her to come back to her side. “I did say that I wanted the aesthetic to be symmetrical. I will require one as well.”

Enid burst into somehow a bigger smile yet, coming to stand at Wednesday’s left and as she got into position, she found herself extremely startled as the gloomy girl’s hand found her shoulder and once it developed, she saw that there was even more of a smile on Wednesday’s features in the second photo. She sneaked a shot of it on her phone camera before handing it to Wednesday, who’d found herself distracted by the book that Ms. Franklin gave her. Glancing up from the text at the picture, there was another faint smile on her face. She placed it on her own desk, propping it up on her lamp base. Enid knew it had nothing to do with symmetry and was completely floored and honored to be the first non-crime scene photo Wednesday had in her space.

“So not to be a total drag, but this day has been supes long for me since I was up for the airport at four AM Cali time,” She said with a stretch. “I’m going to head to the bathroom myself and go to sleep, but I won’t mind if you need to do your writing or whatever, I’m sure I’ll knock out fast and sleep right through it.”

Careful not to let any disappointment reach her features, Wednesday gave a nod; understanding. She’d really hoped to keep Enid up late, discussing the beginning musings of her theory of their former principal. Letting out a tiny breath through her mouth when Enid left the room, Wednesday supposed that she’d managed to keep the news to herself for so long, she could tolerate one more night of the secret.

Wednesday decided that she was more interested in reading the chapter in the book about the suffragette instead of typing her latest addition to her series, as her disciplined schedule was already doomed to be upended from the transition back to school. Adjusting the lighting so that it was just Enid’s twinkle strands and the floor lamp beside her bed, Wednesday tucked into her quilt, discovering the history of Abby Kelley Foster. An 1811 quaker-born woman expected to be silent and submissive, she’d first been a teacher before understanding the inner power she already held that just needed to be tapped into. Beginning by founding a local anti-slavery society, she then started to work at the national level, fundraising, recruiting and organizing the fight for an end of slavery and the start of women’s suffrage. She worked tirelessly until the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments were ratified, later working on efforts that would lay the groundwork to the nineteenth amendment after her lifetime.   

As Wednesday’s eyes started to grow heavy and Enid was already snoozing judging by the sounds of her deep breathing, she finished the chapter with a quote that was highly relevant to Wednesday’s life at Nevermore. “Go where least wanted, for there you are most needed.”

X

Wednesday recognized an elderly man wearing a navy pair of pants and a long-sleeve button-down shirt with a vest over top. He and his cane, curly with the top hook ending in a milky glass constellation sphere, was in a photo she’d seen in her mother’s yearbook. Mr. Harlow had been the astrology teacher at Nevermore for forty-six years, and truly looked like it. Unsure why he was leading the Ophelia Hall CORE meeting, or what that even meant, she sat down in a seat in his classroom, where she supposed she’d be spending plenty of time in the coming months.

Enid sat beside her, feet swinging idly under her desk as she tapped a pen against the tabletop, wearing a pair of wedged pink sandals that Wednesday questioned the wearability of for their following adventure. They had been told to dress casually as they’d be going to the island after CORE. Wednesday selected a short-sleeve black polo, with a knee-length black skirt in a Lycra fabric that had shorts built in underneath, a touch childish perhaps, but practical, along with knee-high socks and checkered tennis shoes.  

“And just like that, the sun rises to the eleventh hour,” Mr. Harlow said, standing up from his comfortable leather seat in the front, offering the group of girls a genuine expression. With his posh British accent and white hair, he was practically a caricature of a classical East Coast elite boarding school teacher. “Welcome, Ophelia Hall students. I hope you had a nice first night of rest here at Nevermore and are looking forward to the day’s events. Together, we are going to work through CORE, which are our guiding values that drive our work ethic here at Nevermore. While most returning students in this room have no doubt been through CORE before, as you then know, it is a yearly requirement. Let’s begin, shall we?”

He pulled down a poster from an old-school rolling system, revealing:

C ooperation
Originality
Responsibility
Exemplary

Realizing she’d seen the same set of words in each classroom she’d been in the semester before, Wednesday assumed it was some sort of motivational poster. Her old schools had similar systems – an acronym to bring everyone together, token economies in attempt to reward students with tickets or paper pawprints or beads; those who had intrinsic motivation to behave themselves, anyway. Wednesday, surprisingly, had earned a host of them everywhere she went, as staff were so desperate to get her to fall in line, they’d reward her for the most mundane positive behavior, earning grudges from her peers when she was in primary grades. Wednesday usually gave them all to Pugsly when they attended the same school, having no desire to earn a trip to a school store or a special ‘game’ day or ‘lunch with a teacher.’ Her little brother though, was more easily swayed into wanting to do what the other boys in his Normie grade were doing, even if they were mean to him.

However, based on what she’d observed the spring previous, she was fairly sure that Nevermore wasn’t handing out tokens for any sort of behavior. Wednesday was quite sure that if they were and she’d totally missed out for not modeling the guidelines, Enid at least would’ve had hers on display somewhere in their room.   

“Due to the events last spring, no one received their CORE marks. The Board felt it would be in poor taste to provide marks based on incomplete courses. You all received passes, with the knowledge that at the start of this school year, we’d likely have some catch up to do. But we did not find it fitting to rate your CORE with the troublesome air about Nevermore, and the resulting trauma for some.”

Wednesday wondered, “How is a CORE score calculated, exactly?”

“An excellent question, Ms. Addams. Each of your teachers will fill out a slip at the third, eighth, twelfth, and finally, last week of classes, rating each of your CORE competencies on a scale of one to five, one being the lowest, five being the highest. At the end of the semester, the scores are averaged across all courses for a final score.”

“And what is the consequence of a low score?”

“Low scoring CORE students are required to work through a series of Saturday courses the following semester to help build these competencies. Obviously, there will not be Saturday work this semester. Let’s go through the CORE competencies, providing examples of how to earn fives in each area.”

Wednesday listened, sitting up straight, finding she appreciated Mr. Harlow’s to-the-point attitude, though it was also kind. Paying attention without speaking again throughout the next hour, she and the rest of the group were pleased when he wrapped up early. Standing, Wednesday found herself stuck, again, when the astronomist’s cane landed in front of her desk. “One moment, please, Ms. Addams?”

Refusing to sigh dramatically as she wanted to, she nodded to Enid, who promised to wait up before heading to the woods for their next activity. Once the room had fully cleared out, Mr. Harlow smiled and gestured for Wednesday to relax. “I don’t mean to take up your time. I just wanted to thank you, Ms. Addams, for your actions last spring. I’m sorry I wasn’t your teacher and was not able to support you in any meaningful way, as I wasn’t quite privy to the goings-on beyond rumors of your…problem behavior. I try to stay away from such gossip among faculty, as I find a student who is a problem for another, is rarely a problem for me. Needless to say, I wish I’d paid better attention and could have intervened, provided some sort of aide to you, believed you, when you needed it. Larissa, Ms. Weems and I – we were always at opposite ends of this building physically, and sometimes, philosophically as well. She was a student of mine, and astronomy was not her gift. She admitted to me not too long ago, that she avoided me professionally due to her shortcomings as a student of mine.”

“My mother said that astronomy wasn’t either of their talents.”

He chuckled, stuffing a hand in his pocket. “Your mother was charming, for sure, but far from a budding astronomer. Good natured, good effort, she certainly met the CORE, but did not move on to Advanced Celestial Studies.”

“She believes that I might have a knack for it. But, I will admit, I have my doubts. As much as I might want to believe in the cosmos, I also believe in hard sciences.”

“I look forward to challenging you then,” He said with a grin. “Perhaps, we’ll teach one another. By learning, you will teach. By teaching, you will learn, or so the old Latin proverb goes.” He cleared his throat, kind eyes twinkling. “I know you’re a genius…gifted in many ways. Along with being a true challenge, at times. I look forward to working with you, Wednesday Addams. And, I do have something for you.” He walked slowly behind his desk, revealing a familiar shaped, twelve by twelve inch package, wrapped appropriately in black tissue paper. “A small thank you, not only for saving my beloved Nevermore, but for giving me the gift of live music nearly nightly for two and a half months. I do so hope you’ll be back to your evening balcony symphonies. They have been a highlight of my late life.”

Peeling back the paper with a near flush, Wednesday actually let out sound of surprise. “This is a first edition printing…Mr. Harlow?”

He beamed at her. “Benjamin Britten is long a favorite of mine. I suspect you’re familiar with War Requiem?”

“Of course, but…you’re giving this to me? Do you know what this runs on a second-hand market, on the rare occasion it’s actually been up for sale?”

“Value is what is assigned to an item by those who deem it so. I have valued this record since its release. Now, I pass it along to someone, in gratitude, who I know will appreciate it the way that I do.”

Nodding firmly, Wednesday held the record close to her chest, torn between sealing it up in a moisture-proof case and putting it on display in her room to listen to. “Thank you,” She said softly, unable to elaborate in her heightened state of emotion without breaking character in front of a relative stranger. Knowing politeness was more than due in return, she said evenly and sincerely, “I look forward to our studies. Good day, Mr. Harlow.”

Hurrying out of the classroom after her departure, Wednesday moved back to her bedroom to carefully tuck the record in her collection after examining the front and back of the sixty-year-old album. Unable to hide her smile, she stepped back and took a breath, wishing Thing was already with her, knowing he’d appreciate the gift as much as she did. She was so excited, she almost wanted to call her mother on the crystal, as they’d missed out on several first editions of the record a multitude of times. Wednesday’s general dislike of the internet did mean often losing live bids.

Shaking herself of the thought, she opened the window, stepping out to the balcony and feeling the sticky, oppressive heat of the late summer morning. Knowing it was only going to get worse, she spun her pigtails into little buns, pinning them up low in the back of her head before locating Enid in the Quad, having a little snack with Yoko. Wednesday sneaked in beside her, itching to tell someone about her gift, knowing Enid would be excited for her simply because she was a good friend.

“New hairstyle?” A familiar voice called her out behind her.

Turning to see Xavier in a gray fitted athletic shirt and black above-the-knee shorts, with white socks in black slides, a loathsome combination, Wednesday took three beats to breathe, remembering what she’d decided already about the boy. She could be friends with somebody who previously held a spark for her – she was that her spirit was strong enough to handle it. Besides, she’d not really shared the feelings in return. She’d used Xavier mostly, taken advantage of his obvious feelings for her. She needed to make sure that their interactions were genuine on both their ends.  

“The humidity is more oppressive here than in Jersey. Our house is close enough to the ocean that we get a breeze.”

He nodded, his hair tucked into a little messy ponytail, pieces falling out already in the front from the mugginess. “I feel that. In Vegas, it might be over a hundred degrees, but it really is different in a dry heat. Took me forever to get used to it here. I felt like I was drowning the first few times I went running. Kind of feels that way again, since this was the longest I’d been back in like two and a half years. But hey,” He smirked. “I’m happy to see you. And I was really happy you decided to text and even call a few times. I wasn’t expecting it, but I was psyched that you did.”

Wednesday tucked her hands together in front of her, not quite knowing what to say in reply or next to advance the conversation. Thankfully, Xavier took the social reins, sitting down at the picnic table where her hallmates and friend were on the other side. He unfolded his schedule, passing it to her, wondering, “Will I be seeing you at all during the day?”

“First thing,” She said softly. “Literature. You can witness my tortured muse rising from the depths of my soul through prose.”

Xavier snickered his shy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s good, you can help me out. Mine tends to only come out through the visual medium, so it’s going to be a challenge for me for sure.”

“We also have Entomology together. Hm. You’re already in your third astronomy class?”

“Oh, yeah. Mr. Harlow’s my favorite teacher here. He’s totally the GOAT teacher here.”

“GOAT?” She raised a brow. “He’s also therianthropy inclined?”

“What?” Xavier matched her expression.

“You said he can turn into a goat,” Wednesday deadpanned, “Therianthropy is the magical ability to metamorphize. Honestly, how is there not a required introduction to divination and Outcast abilities at this school? You all lack a classical vocabulary to interact with traditional psychic mediums.”

Xavier pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh as he looked up at the sunny day. “GOAT means Greatest Of All Time.”

At that, Wednesday turned and scowled, giving a near growl. “Maybe you need an introduction to Gen-Z terminology,” He teased her. “But yeah, Mr. Harlow is pretty dope, you know, for an old guy. I’ve liked both my astronomy classes with him. He’s very patient, loves space and will pretty much do anything he can to make you succeed in his class.”

“He had me stay after our CORE this morning. He had a gift for me, a thank you for my actions from last spring. I wanted to refuse at first because I do not wish any more attention for what I did than I’ve already drawn, but when I realized it was a record I’d been desperate to have in my collection, I was glad I didn’t.”

“Hey, that’s cool. Seems like he already knows you well enough. Something cello-related, I’m sure?”

Wednesday nodded. “A first edition printing,” She said, trying to keep a mask on and not completely lose her carefully crafted personality in her excitement, but it did feel good to share her news with someone. “It was very thoughtful and I am happy to have it.”

“Happy, even. Wow. Kudos to Mr. Harlow, then. I think you’ll really like astronomy. Though, it is a gift, and if it turns out it’s not yours, I’m happy to help.” He shrugged. “I actually brought my record collection from Vegas to put in the art studio. Hopefully the humidity doesn’t warp the vinyl. Not sure most of it’ll be your style, but you could always bring something out to spin, if you want.”

Wednesday wondered, “What is your rarest album?”

“Um, I don’t really know about all that? I just get what I like and want to listen to, I guess. I like looking for records at the store, though, it kind of feels like cheating to order online.” Nodding, Wednesday also enjoyed flipping through a box of chaotically dumped records at an antique shop for a treasure. “Vegas is a good place to look for old memorabilia, lots of pawn shops and stuff. There’s a cool punk resale shop, too. You’d like it. All the clothes are black.”

Feeling satisfied that they’d made it through a very normal teenage conversation in-person without talk of monsters, death or complicated feelings, Wednesday was sure she could handle being in Xavier’s presence once more. He was an interesting character who wasn’t afraid of her; though, he’d surely felt some kind of way about her, both love-struck, bitterly annoyed, and devastated hurt. Determined not to make him feel any of the emotions again, Wednesday hoped she had the social skillset within her to simply be his friend.

As she was about to slightly shift the conversation to his thoughts on live music, Enid caught her attention. “It’s about time we head to Into the Woods!” She sang dramatically. “Are you ready to row, row, row your boat?”

“Not if you ask me like that,” Wednesday replied, shifting her posture a little. “You’ve got to join your own hall?” She questioned Xavier.

“Something like that. We’ll all be on the island for lunch, though. See you then?”

Nodding, Wednesday let Enid escort them to the trailhead meet up point for Ophelia Hall, following a pace behind her practically skipping friend. 

Ms. Franklin was in the woods in a pair of athletic shorts and a navy blue Nevermore t-shirt, a backpack on along with her smile as she talked to several new and young students about what to expect in the woods, promising the creature from the year before was no longer of worry. “Only one student died, and one who lived wasn’t even disfigured anywhere you can see, I ran off the creature before he could fully maim him,” Wednesday said casually behind them. “Enid did marvelous work at partially dismembering the Hyde, though he is alive, he is supposedly bound and chained for the rest of his natural life. Of course, we have no data on how long that life may be -”

“Wednesday…” Ms. Franklin smiled in a warning way. “Is correct. The Hyde is of no danger to anyone on this campus anymore. There are other dangers in these woods though. That is why we’re safely exploring, together, during the daylight hours. We’re just waiting for a few more of your hall-mates and we’ll get started on our trek.”

Wednesday didn’t realize they’d be fully hiking in the woods and looked at Enid’s sandals again, giving a shake of her head. Once the rest of Ophelia Hall had joined them, Wednesday trailed a bit behind the group, tuning out Ms. Franklin’s descriptions of the green scene around the school property. She was not interested in the old lore of Nevermore’s dangerous forest when she’d become a central figure of it herself. Wednesday merely observed it all in full green for the short time it would stay that way. Everything had been dying or blooming in the late winter and early spring that she’d been able to attend the academy. Acres such as Nevermore’s outdoor space truly felt different with each season. She generally preferred the scent of death fall would bring and loved the haunting shadows of empty tree branches in winter months. On a scorching late-August day, though, she knew the green was to be appreciated for the shade it brought.

She was caught just slightly off-guard when the group stopped, almost running into Yoko’s back. The vampire merely grinned her pointed teeth at her, gesturing for her to move up with their line. Ms. Franklin was discussing the fork in the trail, suggesting that students traveling alone utilize the inner circle marked in blue, and those traveling in pairs might brave the outer, marked in red. Taking them along the red path, she explained why students might come out into the forest for academic reasons. “Alchemy students will need to forage for supplies. Art students will need inspiration. Entomology will likely have you studying the local insects, and our new Botany teacher will probably bring you out to examine the fauna.”

Rolling her eyes at the mention of the new Botany teacher, Wednesday wondered how they’d all fallen for Laurel Gates’s then-obvious trick. Knowing it wasn’t her fault in the end, but wishing she’d been able to do more to stop so much of the chaos for unfolding, Wednesday blinked twice as she thought of that final awful interaction with Laurel in the crypt, not realizing how much time had passed until they were at the canoes. Enid handed her an oar, beaming. “Great time to practice for your second round of the Poe Cup!”

“I’m sure it will be another victory for our Hall,” Wednesday said firmly, accepting the practice round, watching Enid settle in front of her and riding second in the canoe as her co-captain, smirking at two freshmen that Ms. Franklin stuck with them. “Try to keep up, we don’t want to lurk in the open water, lest the water nymphs think we are lunch.”

“Nymphs?” One asked with wide eyes.

“They don’t tend to feast on people during the day, so we should be okay.”

“Wednesday,” Ms. Franklin sighed again. “They’re new and nervous given all that Nevermore went through in the spring. Remember, part of the CORE is respect, which includes towards your peers?”

“How is it disrespectful to warn somebody of a potentially deadly water demon?”

“There is no record of nymphs in this body of water.”

“There’s also no record that anyone has ever gone looking for nymphs,” Wednesday argued playfully, almost unable to keep a straight face. Constantly being contradictory for the pure joy of it was one of her favorite pastimes prior to starting at Nevermore and having murders to investigate.

“Alright, let’s just paddle, stop scaring the children!” Enid broke up the silly banter. Wednesday found she was eager to be on the water again. Before Nevermore, bodies of water made her cringe like the Wicked Witch of the West, but, since the Poe Cup, she was ready to embrace a wet challenge. Though, she’d be damned if anyone was going to get her into a swimsuit.

Taking a leisurely canoe ride to Raven Island, the crew hopped off, finding other halls starting to or already gathered from whatever side of the trails they’d come from. Bianca winked and teased, “Looks like we were here first. Just like we will be in the spring.”

“I wouldn’t be so confident. You know how it ended last time,” Wednesday said smugly back.

About to enjoy some good old-fashioned smack-talk, Wednesday found herself interrupted by a whistle. Seeing fencing Coach Vlad next to Dr. Zypher, she crossed her arms in anticipation of whatever nonsense the new principal was going to rattle off to them. She was in a black Nevermore polo with the logo embroidered in white on it, a sight that made Wednesday a bit jealous as she’d never seen anyone but her in the black emblem and wished she had more pieces of the dark-hued uniform. The principal kept up her apparent motif, sporting black athletic leg wear as well. “As an introvert, I understand many of you might be loath to team building activities. However, I also know that some of the most to-themselves people are also some of the most competitive. We are going to have Nevermore’s annual Gatherer game, with the winning hall earning our famed treasure chest for display for the year, and it will be full of treats for sharing throughout the rest of the weekend.”

Wednesday wondered what a resource gathering game might include but it seemed returning students were excited. The murmur of whispers and giggles around her took a moment to fall under hush for the game to be explained. 

“In resource gathering, each hall member takes on a role, drawn from Ye Olde Boot,” She gestured to four decaying pieces of leather with the hall names stitched onto the sides. “You will discover if you are to be an herbivore or carnivore. Depending on your role, you will start with up to three tokens and the team who has the most tokens at the end of the game, wins. Herbivores have three, and carnivores have zero. Herbivores can find additional tokens from our omnivores from other halls, our senior students, in the wild, hidden all around the island. Carnivores can take one token at a time from herbivores if they succeed in tagging them. Carnivores can take a token from their own hall’s omnivores, but they can also lose tokens to other hall’s omnivores. There is no foul-play involved in this game.”


Running through a list of exactly what that meant, Wednesday suspected, for her sake, she took questions and students lined up by hall in front of their own boot. Everyone began selecting their role and having a single line painted on their cheeks for herbivore, and three for carnivore in different colors for each hall. Naturally, Ophelia Hall had black, and Wednesday was decided by the fate of the boot to be a carnivore.

The herbivores were given a four-minute head start to hide or seek out omnivores, and Enid dashed off with them. She was probably relieved to play the part of a non-meat-eater for the hour and a half she would have to do so. Wednesday eyed the six other carnivores on her team, indicating that she was the alpha among them, and they were to follow her once the whistle blew thrice. When it did, they took off running, Wednesday leading them towards Crackstone’s crypt. “What are you doing?” Yoko wondered.

“She didn’t say we couldn’t use previously stashed items. So long as they aren’t weapons.” Wednesday moved a few loose bricks in the wall, revealing rope.

“Wednesday, we’re not tying people up! And we don’t have time to fashion nets, either.”

“Not a net,” She replied. “A simple distraction. Come on.”

She had Yoko take one side of a rope while she did another, creating a visible line in the trail which would slow down others. Slicing the rope in half to create a second ‘trap’ on the other side of the trail, the set of six carnivores split up in trios. Within twenty minutes had confused fourteen herbivores from other halls to give up their tokens. “Word has likely spread by now,” Wednesday said firmly, “We ought to find our seniors to collect more. Of course, if you run into any herbivores on the way, claim what is theirs. If you see another omnivore, run.”

Yoko dashed off with Wednesday, the vampire wondering with a smirk, “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

“While I prefer my trophies mounted,” Wednesday stated firmly, “I also generally prefer to win, no matter what game I am forced to play.”

Wednesday put a hand up suddenly, her ears catching a sound, Yoko stopping behind her. Motioning to a tree, she scaled up to the easiest to reach branches, while Yoko made herself small behind it. Wednesday took another item that had been in her stash, a collapsible telescope, and used it to view who was coming. “It’s Enid,” She muttered. “Ask her how many tokens she has.”

Yoko stepped out, about to do so, when a carnivore from Xavier’s hall appeared smugly, making a move to tag the girls. Wednesday was quicker and undetected however, tapping his back first as she jumped from the tree, making him groan and hand over a token to her, then one to Yoko when she double tagged him. “Damnit, I’m out.”

Enid jumped excitedly, but Wednesday made a shushing gesture. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. Come on, there’s still plenty of game left.”

The stealthy hide-outs and snatching largely did the trick for Wednesday, who was only caught off-guard once, by Xavier himself, not a surprise, giving him one small prize from her pocketful of tokens. When the loud whistle blew on the island from all the corners and the totals were counted, Wednesday was a little miffed to not be as far ahead as she’d hoped. However, she was pleased, when Ophelia Hall was declared the winner for the second big game in a row, likely due to her cunning ways. Imagining how much better she’d have done with Thing there on their side, she considered how she missed her favorite disembodied hand as lunch was served just before she could get famously hangry.

X

Wednesday was practically stewing with her need to tell Enid about what she knew. They hadn’t gotten off the damn island until nearly dinner by the time everyone wrapped their fun and conversations. Wednesday had been done with all the interaction halfway through the game, and she was sure she’d just been a real treat for the hours that followed lunch.

Unfortunately, her roommate being the social butterfly that she was, seemed to be making plans for what was turning out to be a very short break before the bonfire. As they left the dining hall, she told a siren that she’d ‘love to’ come to her room, but Wednesday gripped her wrist. About to say something to end the fierce touch, she caught her friend’s eye, then said to the dark-haired girl who’d invited her, “But, maybe tomorrow after the trip to town instead?”

Wednesday paced a little when they arrived, while Enid groaned and complained, taking off her shoes. “These really were not the right choice for today. Ah…” She checked the back of her heel. “Blisters.” Wednesday slid out her bottom dresser drawer, revealing a small, vintage leather physician’s bag. Gesturing for her to sit in the small desk chair, Wednesday opened a vial. “What is that?” Enid asked nervously.

“Poison,” She retorted, dabbing the ointment onto a wad of an old cotton towel. Enid gave a whine and pulled her foot back. “It’s witch hazel, Enid, relax. My mother’s special blend, from the hazel tree bark on our property. This will dry your blisters up faster than any mass-produced pharmaceutical ointment could. As irritating as she is, my mother is unfortunately a mega-figure in the Outcast potion-brewing community. Her supply is hard to come by without connections.”

“Okay,” Enid relaxed as Wednesday patted the back of her ankles with the cotton, making her cringe and suck a breath through her teeth. It burned just a moment.

“You should let them breathe for a bit, then wear socks to keep dirt out this evening if you’re planning on attending the bonfire.”

“Are you not?” Enid asked with a pout, apparently disappointed that Wednesday wouldn’t be joining her.

Wednesday lifted her shoulders. She was incredibly socially worn out and desperate for solitude. Going from months with just her family and family ghosts in their stately manor home to Nevermore’s bustling overnight scene was difficult. Her fingers were itching for her cello bow, her mind swirling with a thousand thoughts to get out on paper, and heart pounding with the need to uncover evidence for what she knew to be true. “Enid, I need to tell you something.”

The blonde sat up properly, then, eyes locked on her friend with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And I mean it.” She huffed, crossing her arms after twisting the cap of the witch hazel back on. “But I must tell you what I know. I have only spoken this to one other person, my mother – a terrible mistake, and I should’ve known better from the start. I never should have breathed a word of this to her.” Wednesday’s fingers curled into tight fists as she recalled the night that she’d told her.
 
The way Morticia’s face fell when Wednesday blurted out what she’d been holding back would be forever etched into her memory.


She’d woken Wednesday up from a wretched spell of slumber. It was past three in the morning in mid-July and she’d been sleeping with the window open, despite the central air running in their upgraded estate of a classical home. Morticia gently shushed her as she finally seemed to pull out of it and Wednesday’s eyes could focus clearly on her mother, the older woman’s hair drawn into a very loose braid on the side of her head, a sleek, black silk nightgown revealing her shoulders. “That’s it,” She whispered, leaning forward just a touch. “Must have been a real nice dream, hm? You usually love your nightmares.”

Wednesday felt like she’d been choking. She tore her thin summer quilt off, revealing a baggy cotton t-shirt with a bleach design she’d sprayed in the sun with wildflowers from the creek not too far from their home. Taking a few deep breaths, she felt water pooling in a rare, burning sensation against her eyes. “Wednesday,” Morticia spoke so sweetly, it hurt like rubbing sugar into a cavity. “My little villain, talk to me. What has you so rattled, hm?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before drawing her knees to her chest, black cotton shorts riding up her thigh a bit. “You know I’d never judge you darling, no matter how depraved and dark your thoughts are. I love you for them, not in spite of them.”

“Principal Weems is alive,” Wednesday finally blurted out, sharply, but also – half a blubber. While no tears fell as she held them back expertly, the sound of bereavement was undeniable to any listener.

Her mother’s eyes widened, then softened - startled, then saddened. Morticia went through an entire spectrum of parenting in a second. The softest fingertips grazed Wednesday’s cheeks, nails locking in rare, unbound hair, stuck to the back of her neck with sweat from her troubled sleep. The mother brought her lips forward, kissing the top of her daughter’s head in a practically forbidden move, making her involuntarily shudder, though she didn’t push her away. Words were locked in mother’s throat as she tried to explain herself but could only find gestures. Taking another chance when the first two weren’t outwardly rejected, she tucked Wednesday in an embrace that she ultimately struggled with more than the other comforts. She kept her hands tight up at her shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, starving back the tears so they couldn’t reach her lashes.

“Murder is typically a delight for you,” Morticia finally muttered. “But not this way. Not for someone who didn’t deserve to die. You witnessed this undue homicide, unable to prevent it.” She pulled back to try to look Wednesday in the eye. “But Ms. Weems, Larissa, is dead. You were there, Wednesday. You saw it happen.”

“She’s a shapeshifter,” Wednesday shouted through a voice like gravel. “She must have saved herself. She must have shifted before she could pass!”

“You know how nightshade poisoning affects victims. It’s painful and terrible, but a quick death. She didn’t suffer long, I promise you, she didn’t,” Morticia’s triangular nails weaved through Wednesday’s hair again, matted from the sweat, tangled from tossing and turning.

“She is the most talented shapeshifter in the world,” Wednesday said with her face set like stone, determined not to allow any additional emotion pass over it.

“That is true,” Morticia shook her head. “Was true. She was the best. But she is dead, Wednesday. To not accept that is to descend into madness.”

“I’m not crazy,” Wednesday hissed, finally fully retracting from her mother’s attempts at comfort. “I just…know,” She shook her head, unable to find charged vocabulary between her haywire emotions and plagued sleep. “I know she is alive.”

“I think you’re experiencing a feeling for the first time, with a person, and not a pet. You are grieving, Wednesday.” She sighed, hands obviously itching to touch her distraught daughter.

“You cannot grieve someone who is not dead,” She hissed, about to physically force Morticia from her room if she was not left alone, wishing desperately she had not spoken her truth to her mother.

“The Normies have stages of grief, and unfortunately, my dear, I believe you are in stage one, which is denial.”

“Get out,” Wednesday demanded. “Get out, now!”

Morticia appeared conflicted, likely wanting to respect Wednesday’s desires, and didn’t want to be on the other end of her violence, but could not seem leave Wednesday in the state she was in. Sensing it was useless to try and further the conversation in such a fit of rage, she wanted her to know, “It’s okay to be sad. It’s different than your usual gloom and despair. It’s okay to mourn. But if you’re not ready to do that, then let’s focus on light. Think about what you liked about Larissa. Perhaps for you, it was more admiration for a position than personal traits. Regardless, pick something about her that you value, and hold onto that. Don’t let that go.”

Wednesday had no intention of letting any of it go.

Worried that her voice might come out crackly like it had when she first spoke to her mother, Wednesday almost stopped herself entirely. Enid stood back up from her desk chair, coming to Wednesday’s pacing side and taking her hand, watching her shoulders drop nearly an inch at the touch. “Something is really bothering you,” She tilted her head. “I could tell all afternoon, you wanted to get off the island. I thought you were just having too much people-time. I didn’t realize it was something else.”

“I wanted to tell you last night,” She whispered. Wednesday let her continue to hold her hand, not pulling out of the gentleness. Her greatest wish was that it wouldn’t turn to pity as her mother’s had after her revelation.

Enid frowned. “I’m sorry,” She winced a little into the apology, hoping Wednesday knew that she hadn’t been trying to ignore her twice in a row. “I was so tired by the end of the day yesterday, I…didn’t notice you had something on your mind.”

“I don’t make it easy,” Wednesday confessed. “But I need to tell you. I have to tell someone else, someone who will take me seriously, before I do go mad.”

“Okay. Whatever it is, I’m here to listen,” Enid said softly. With no indication what it could be about, other than that Wednesday’s mother hadn’t taken the news well, she apparently didn’t want to commit to a reaction.

Wednesday locked eyes with her friend, and finally came out with it. “Principal Weems is alive.”

Enid didn’t have an obviously strong physical reaction at least, like her mother’s had been. “Did you have a vision?” She wondered, curious about the origin of her claim.

“No,” Wednesday sighed, dropping her hand, already feeling not believed. “I just know, okay?”

“Hey,” Enid cringed slightly, not having meant that she didn’t trust Wednesday’s words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I guess, I just...I just…why do you think that? You…didn’t you watch her die?”

“I saw her human body stop breathing,” Wednesday clarified. “But Weems is a shapeshifter. The best in the world. She must have shapeshifted into something else. I was knocked out right after, and the whole Conservatory went up in flames…”

Enid bit her lip, and Wednesday turned around, feeling something close to humiliated that even her best friend didn’t believe her. But Enid didn’t let her down so quickly. She wrapped Wednesday in a backwards hug, offering, “I don’t mean to discredit you. You’re brilliant, Wednesday. You were right all along, before, about Crackstone, the monster. Maybe it took you awhile to get to the how, but you knew the what. People should believe you. I believe you, Wednesday.”

At that, she felt the glassy sensation of damp eyes once again, but true to herself, she closed them, willed the emotion back, and twisted just slightly in Enid’s hold. As much as she hated to be embraced, Wednesday paradoxically wanted to stay in it for longer but didn’t know how to ask. Her friend understood her better than she could express, though, merely keeping locked around her. “Your mother doesn’t agree?”

“She thinks I’m grieving.”

“It’s possible for two things to be true at once,” Enid said, her cheek all but resting against Wednesday’s back as she held onto her in such an awkward, not-reciprocated way. “It’s possible that Weems is alive, somehow, and that you’re grieving her violent murder.”

“Death doesn’t bother me.”

“Yes it does,” Enid argued and Wednesday finally pulled away with a glare in her friend’s direction as she wanted to argue more. “An unjust death bothers you greatly.”

Wednesday turned away again, her heart keeping double time. “It’s okay,” Enid softened. “Your secret is safe with me. Both of them.” Silence fell over the room, stretching into a long minute. Enid drew close again. “Wednesday?”

“Thank you,” She said stiffly, crossing her arms, then lowering them, trying to drop her posture again. “For believing me. And this needs to be a secret. For now. I have to gather evidence. I won’t drag you into this. But I will keep you informed along the way. Especially until Thing gets back, I do tend to do my best work with a co-conspirator.”

“Just be careful, okay? You got really hurt last spring. And unless you’ve got more dead relatives reaching out from the beyond to give you the last of their lifeform? I don’t think you’re going to recover so easily from a liver puncture this time.”

Wednesday glanced at the time. “You ought to get going. I know Ajax has been waiting for you all day.”

“He can wait longer,” She said dismissively. “You’re my best friend, not him. And, you should come, too. Spooky stories. Dark night. Raging fire. What’s not Wednesday about that?”

She turned on her heels. “I need time alone. Maybe I’ll join you later.” Enid was prepared to try again, but Wednesday offered, “Tell them the legend of my Great Uncle that I shared with you.”

“The one who had his toes surgically replaced with chicken talons?”

“That’s the one,” Wednesday almost smiled. “It’s always a crowd pleaser. Don’t forget the part where he sliced off his pinky toe with his canine teeth when his saw was too dull after cutting off the other nine.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure not to skip the details,” Enid said in a disgusted manner.

“And you need socks and tennis shoes over your blisters. In fact…” She took a strip of cotton from her still-open physician’s bag. Squatting down, she carefully wrapping Enid’s blistered ankles, tucking the wraps so she wouldn’t have an uncomfortable lump from a knot. “Now, socks and shoes. Practical shoes. No lift.”

“Yes, Dr. Addams,” Enid winked, finding her most classic pair of sneakers and white socks (with colorful ruffles at the top, of course) to go with them. “I’ll see you later?”

“One way, or another, I’m sure.”

Finally, Enid was out of the room and Wednesday dropped a mask that she always had to wear around people, even those she liked the most. She kicked off her own shoes, stripped off her dirty day clothes, and pulled on a black robe, knowing the showers would be free with everyone else heading to the bonfire. After a practically rejuvenating first shower of the school year under a cool spray, Wednesday slipped on a full clean outfit, on the good chance someone would find her before she was ready for bed. Braiding her hair back into her usual style, she looked from her desk to her bed to her cello, trying to decide what was worth the likely limited time she had left to herself.

Selecting her cello, as it would be easier to keep going if interrupted, or stop when she had to, Wednesday dragged it all out to the balcony. She smelled the large bonfire from across the school, hoping they were ready for her serenade. She felt herself come to life a little more from an exhausting day with the familiar weight of the bow and strings on her fingers. Wednesday played three songs from memory, filling the grounds with the undeniable sound of her presence.

It wasn’t terribly long when the sound of her window opening hit her ears. Finishing her fourth number in her personal set, she spotted Bianca and Xavier sitting on the ledge. “One more,” Bianca insisted, “Then you come tell us a scary story.”

Opening a book of covers to popular songs that others her age probably knew; she closed out her one woman show with a haunting version of a song called Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish – whoever he was.

X

Wednesday skipped formal breakfast in the dining hall the next day, finding herself having biscuits and honey with Eugene in the Hummer’s shed instead. He had been working with the colony in every free moment he’d had over the course of that weekend; there was loads to catch up on from their time away, his even more so due to the events that occurred the night of the Rave’n. She had explained what she’d done in the caretaking of the bees when he was hospitalized, and he was grateful for all her attempts.


“Thankfully, bees can be independent when they are left to their own devices. We just provide them more opportunities to thrive.”

Wednesday was content to be in his presence. Aside from reminding her of Pugsly, Eugene lacked as many social graces as she did, though his presented in dorky awkwardness while hers were more malice-based. It was easy to be in the Hummers Headquarters with Eugene. They could sit in silence and be side-by-side on their own work without needing to fill some expected gap but were also simply not alone. They had texted a few times a week over the summer about this or that. Wednesday would send him photos of interesting fauna in her woods. Eugene would send her photos of his latest five-thousand-piece Lego set he’d finished after work at the orchard.

She was writing new label stickers to replace his kindergarten-like writing that he had in the cabinet, using neat calligraphy with careful lines. Enid suddenly burst in, making Eugene startle and Wednesday glare. “Hi! We’re getting ready to go to town, aren’t you two coming?” The pair shared a look and Enid pouted. “Come on, please? It’ll be fun! You don’t have to stay all day, you can just come and hang for a little bit. Please, please, please?”

“We do need to get more mason jars,” He said to Wednesday, a breath through his nose. “We’re going to want to get a jumpstart on our honey collection for the Harvest Festival.”

Wednesday finished sticking a perfect label on a jar, stepping back to see her neat handiwork. “How long do you plan on being in town?”

“I don’t know, we’ve got from eleven until four. Not that it’s ever stopped you from going at your will before,” Enid winked. “Just for a little bit. We can get coffee, maybe find you a shiny new leather notebook for class, hm?”

“I do like the smell of Vellum Brothers,” She muttered to herself. Locally sourced leather goods and fine, firm stationary papers were among the few items she actually enjoyed shopping for. “But I’m leaving the moment I feel like committing atrocities against a sixty-year-old woman who hasn’t figured out that the beeping means she needs to take her debit card out of the machine.”

“Totally fair,” Enid tried not to smile. “Let’s go! There’s a bus leaving in ten.”

Closing up the shed, they followed the blonde back towards the school. Quite a crowd was gathered out front, new students shuttling in a van so they could be taken on a tour before being allowed out on their own. Wednesday, always prepared, already had her backpack with her small wallet inside, prepared with a modest amount of cash since she didn’t trust electronic banking. There was chattering all around her, but after the weekend with her peers, the noise was all turning into muffled sounds that she couldn’t quite tap into unless an incredibly unexpected word came out of someone’s mouth. As Eugene returned with a small chain from his front beltloop to his back pocket, she had to take a moment to appreciate again how he’d evolved from a fully-fledged nerd to something close to put together over the summer.

He hovered near her until they climbed on the bus, sitting in a row behind Enid and Ajax, who were sharing looks, but thankfully keeping their hands to themselves. Enid kept whirling around to talk to Wednesday as the bus took the short drive into the town proper. Considering the wasted emissions released for such a short trip, Wednesday committed herself to walking the twenty-some-odd minutes back.

As they pulled around to the Town Hall meetup point, Wednesday would’ve paled if she could have upon stepping out of the bus. She immediately found herself face-to-face with Dr. Zypher sans the snake around her neck, and none other than Sheriff Galpin. Caught completely off-guard, she brought her eyes to the side, fully unwilling to look at Galpin. “Wednesday! I wasn’t sure you’d be coming, but I’m glad you did.” Dr. Zypher tried to play off the interaction like it could be casual. “Sheriff Galpin was asking me about you.”

“Addams,” He greeted her, an awkward pause in the air as she didn’t return the acknowledgment.

Dr. Zypher cleared her throat, knowing there was tension, but in no way capable of fully understanding it. Eugene stood suddenly at Wednesday’s side, acting as if he didn’t know that the sheriff wanted to talk to her. “Do you want to start with shopping or coffee?”

“Let’s get the jars,” She said to him, looking his way, content to play the game he started. “Three dozen enough, or do you sense we can harvest more than that before the festival?”

“Wednesday,” Dr. Zypher took a step forward and she one back. “It’s important that we put the past behind us so that we can move forward with a fresh start this school year. Could you take a moment with Sheriff Galpin, clear the air?”

“I will no longer be speaking to law enforcement without my attorney present,” She stated, crossing her arms, still stubbornly refusing to look at the lawman.

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Sheriff Galpin said calmly, though harsher than he ought to have if he wanted to truly make things right between them. “Can I take five minutes with you, Addams?”

“I want it stated, for the record that I am being denied my fifth amendment right,” She said firmly, finally bringing her eyes up to Galpin.

“You’re not on the record, and you are not being accused of a crime, Addams, I just want to have a conversation.”

She swung her backpack off one shoulder without breaking eye-contact. Untwisting the latch and reaching inside, she revealed a small, black leather-backed book the size of a tract, which Dr. Zypher realized was a pocket constitution as she read, verbatim, “No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime-”

Xavier was suddenly at Wednesday’s side, nudging her gently as he must’ve caught the entire interaction from the second bus he’d arrived on. Wednesday shot him a look as the crowd of her friends realized what was happening and gathered around her as well. With the additional attention, she clutched the founding document in a firm grip, relatively unsure how she was going to proceed until Xavier put a careful hand on her shoulder. “Hey, maybe we could call one of my dad’s lawyers, have them ready if need be. You should have it out, really quick with the sheriff. Get it over with. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but Dr. Z has a point. We don’t need to start off this semester all sus. I’ll go with, be a physical witness? Dr. Z, too?”

Wednesday nearly growled, desperate to get her way and escape the situation. Dr. Zypher was apparently grateful for his intervention in the matter. “Thank you, Xavier, I think that’s a great idea, if you’ve got a lawyer handy? It’s a Sunday after all.”

“They know not to ignore my calls,” He said in a light tone, smirking. He stepped away for a moment, talking softly into his phone before returning, nodding at Wednesday. “There is a lawyer for you on standby if you need him.” She kept the constitution clutched in her hands, not about to take a single chance with her freedom that semester. There was far too important of work to be done to be entangled with the police again.

Eugene shrugged. “I’ll wait out here. Don’t need a crowd, hm?” Wednesday nodded, knowing the thought of being with the police probably made him too nervous to be supportive. Enid made a move like she was going to follow, but Xavier winked at her, some unspoken code between them that also made Wednesday peeved.

Dr. Zypher, Sheriff Galpin, Xavier and Wednesday entered the town hall, finding an open meeting room easily accessible on the weekend. The sheriff and principal took a seat on one side of a narrow table, Xavier on the other, but Wednesday remained standing, her backpack lopsided, constitution warm in her palm. “As soon as you want me to, I’ll put the lawyer on the line,” He said to Wednesday, but also as a warning to the adults in the room.

Dr. Zypher offered Wednesday a very gentle expression. “Remember, on Friday, I told you that trust is a two-way street? It seems like Sheriff Galpin knows that he has unfortunately lost yours -”

“You can’t lose something you never had,” Wednesday said morosely.

“Damnit, Addams, listen,” Galpin grumbled, taking off his hat and rubbing his head close to his brow. “It’s been a hell of a year. I’ve lost my son and all the leadership I trusted and worked with in this town. I took some time off, to grieve, but now it’s time to put in the work and make sure Jericho doesn’t completely fall to shit.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Wednesday leered, ready to quickly start and end the game she was being forced to play. “I had no intention of spending a second longer in this town until I had to in the first place, because your people couldn’t be bothered to identify and neutralize a threat.”

“It was never your responsibility to entangle yourself in an ongoing investigation,” Galpin argued, voice growing louder. “You continued to interfere with the actions of law enforcement after repeatedly being told to stand down. Your family had no handle on you, your principal couldn’t keep you under her thumb. Your psychologist wasn’t making a damn difference in controlling your behavior. Next thing I knew, I was somehow in charge of taking haphazardly collected evidence from a sixteen-year-old because no one knew how to lock you in at night!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do those things if you weren’t in denial of what was happening with your own son!” Wednesday called back sharply.

“You are not going to talk about Tyler-!”

“Sheriff-”

“Cool it!”

Dr. Zypher and Xavier both interrupted at the same time. The administrator was growing hot. “Sheriff, I encourage you to make amends with Wednesday, but you may not engage with my student in such a disrespectful and accusatory way.”

“This child hasn’t respected an adult a day in her life,” He seethed, hands in fists on the table, teeth barred like a dog.

Wednesday maintained her composure, somehow, explaining, “The adults in my life have consistently disappointed me, mistrusted my every action, and lied to my face. Their narcissism is pathological, and much like the trust Dr. Zypher so highly seeks with me, my respect is not so easily earned. Especially from someone who continually dismissed me, rejected my theories, and ultimately, ignored my correct assessment of a deadly threat.”

“So, Wednesday, what is the solution here?” Dr. Zypher was losing her patience, obvious from the rash of flush rising on her neck, unprotected by her snake, likely making her feel out of place. Wednesday suddenly dropped her gaze to the table, then over to Xavier. He offered a gentle expression and a shrug, as if to say it were up to her. “Would you like an apology from the sheriff, for the way he treated you previously? A promise to do better by you in the future?”

“I have no intention of entangling myself with police matters this semester,” Wednesday chose her words carefully. “I wish to never interact personally with the sheriff again.”

“If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a fry, Addams. You know that isn’t very likely to happen.”

At that, Dr. Zypher came to her defense. “Wednesday hasn’t even had a single foot on Jericho property without being under your eye, Sheriff Galpin. You were the one who approached me to offer this young woman a fresh start, but you’ve done nothing except provoke her. Wednesday Addams is a unique student, a brilliant Outcast who solved a very unfortunate crime last spring. I am sorry that your son turned out to be involved in all this. I’m sure Wednesday is, too, as I know they were friends. But nothing that transpired is her fault. If not for Wednesday, my campus would be ashes, and my students dead, possibly all of Jericho with them. While she has done things in her past which might have marked her, she has a very bright future, and we owe her our thanks.” Dr. Zypher pushed her chair out, walking around to Wednesday, putting a careful hand around her shoulder, choosing her side. Xavier rose to stand next to her, sneering at the disgraced sheriff. “We will take our leave, and I expect that you will not have a squad keeping tabs on my student while she enjoys time in town this afternoon.”

Giving Wednesday a very earnest squeeze, she directed her out, huffing once they were in the hall, then outside and out of any prying earshot, Xavier right behind her. Dr. Zypher had a face full of emotion, largely embarrassment and regret. “Wednesday, I’m so sorry. I would never have encouraged you to have that conversation if I thought for a moment that was how it would end up. What can I do to make it right?”

Caught off-guard at an adult admitting they were wrong, Wednesday didn’t have a response. Instead, she shrugged the principal off her when she realized she was still under her somewhat possessive side-embrace. She certainly didn’t want to be seen as needing any sort of protection or comfort in public. “Did you want to start with coffee?” She asked Xavier.

“Hey, we don’t need to pretend that didn’t just happen,” He offered in as casual tone he could muster, shrugging. “That was kind of brutal. We should probably debrief?”

“I’m going to get a quad to see which nepotism Normie ended up getting the coveted open barista position.”

She walked away, ears picking up Dr. Zypher’s misplaced sigh and Xavier’s gentle, “Give her time.”

Walking hastily to the Weathervane, she all but had to pick her eyes up off the floor due to rolling right out of her head at the sight of Lucas Walker pouring steamed milk at the counter. “Well, look who’s back,” He greeted her, putting a to-go cup at the pickup line where one of Yoko’s friends was waiting for her beverage. “Figured you wouldn’t be one for an optional field trip.”

“Figure you probably pour a weak brew,” Wednesday challenged him. “You traded in your tights for apron strings?”

“Nah,” He shrugged, his face turning serious with sadness obvious behind his eyes. “My ma and I are going through a discrimination lawsuit with my father’s life insurance policy. I’m working two jobs.” Wednesday blinked, about to spill into a deflecting lecture on systemic racism. “You can spare your intellectual briefs on the subject. I know it’s wrong. We’re probably going to win the suit, law just moves slower than it should, so, until then – I’m working every shift I can. Hey, how about a triple, yeah?”

“Quad,” She corrected softly.

“Do you even sleep?”

“Upside-down in the belfry.”

When Lucas chuckled and turned around to start her disturbingly strong coffee, Wednesday discreetly took a fifty-dollar bill from her wallet and stuffed it into the tip jar.

Taking her finished coffee with a thanks, Wednesday hoped to avoid any further conversation, when Lucas slid her a flyer.

Jericho High & Community - Party Like It’s 1699
Saturday, September 9^th  | Sundown – Sunup
Pilgram World | Casual | Bag check

“We’re having a back-to-school social,” He said with a shrug. “I’m inviting everyone from Nevermore who wants to come. I hope that might include you. There is a bag check for weed and alcohol, but they’ll probably confiscate knives, too, so leave yours at home.”

“Or in my boot.” With a pause, she turned around, quite through with the interaction. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Hope to see you there,” He offered sincerely.

Outside she found Xavier, Enid, Ajax, Bianca and Eugene waiting with curious expressions trying to gauge her mood. “I was promised stationary,” She said when no one made a move.

Enid broke the tension, giggling, taking her arm, knowing it would do no good to force her to talk. Wedensday appreciated just how well her roommate knew her and hoped it wasn't obvious he was leaning a little into her touch. “Let’s get you fancy paper.”

That evening, Wednesday sat at her desk, her finger absently stroking the pressed lines on the front cover of her new black notebook. The tanner had been patient with her and spent a good deal of his time ensuring her original product was exactly the way she wanted, offering to make a small surprise on it. She’d accepted, curious. The black-bound notebook was filled with fine paper, a smooth, perfect texture of a heavy stock. On the inside, front blank page, he’d printed a perfectly large W in an old script. On the outside, a lovely gold embossed WA was at the top, as she requested. Her surprise was the lower lefthand corner pressed in a spiderweb, its silk wrapped around the spine, revealing a tiny, perfect spider on the back. She’d been nearly amused and left another generous tip that day.  

Opening to the first page, much as cracking the perfect spine grated her senses, she flipped passed the W, gliding the page down. Wednesday took out a new pen, a perfect black, .5 millimeter tip, a bit old-fashioned, but not so as to represent a quill and pot. With no adults she could trust, no Thing for the foreseeable future, and only Enid who barely believed her, she would be largely on her own with her thoughts for a while. Collecting them in one place where she could reference them later; find patterns, clues, cross-examine herself, even, Wednesday used smooth motions and wrote a small manifesto.

Larissa Weems, known shapeshifter, did not pass away when injected with deadly Nightshade by Laurel Gates. She shifted into something else before her passing. It is my mission to determine what it was, how she did it, where she presently is, and the method by which she can be freed.

It is my intention to use any means necessary to release Larissa Weems from her trapped state, if she wishes to be released.

I reject the sentiment that this is a result of my grief over her passing. One cannot grieve what was not lost. I know with certainty; Larissa Weems is alive, and I intend to use the findings in this book to prove it.