Archive of Our Own ^beta

If Wednesday had to wait up for Enid on a Friday night one more time, she was going to implode and hit the ceiling. 

Friday nights were, specifically, for Enid to spend out with Yoko, whether that be a late-night skinny dip at the lake, a shopping spree that lasted until the last shop in Jericho shut for the day, or simply sitting in Yoko’s dorm while they painted their nails and discussed the latest Nevermore gossip that she could never share with a very uncaring and nonchalant Wednesday.  

Despite Enid having such a lenient schedule on weekends, Wednesday did not appreciate her roommate spending, what felt like the entire night, holed up with Yoko or Divina—or, suspiciously, both—without informing her of when she would return. Wednesday never accepted “after nine” or “maybe before dinner” as valid answers; she needed to know what time she could expect Enid home. 

Sitting alone in the otherwise empty dorm room, at half-past nine, she stared out the window and tapped an infuriated finger against her thigh. If Thing had been watching her for the better of a half hour, he was sure to mock her for her incessant and anxious pacing. She was prepared to kick him across the room if that did happen. 

For a brief moment, she considered actually turning on the cellphone Xavier had given her in a weak attempt at winning her heart. Enid had always said that she could call or text her if she needed to while she was away from home, but Wednesday, embarrassingly, could hardly send one text on that thing, let alone multiple, or even make one of those calls where two people could see one another through a screen in real time. Technology was evolving and she loathed it. 

Thing tapped at Wednesday. He was sitting on Enid’s bed, reading a Teen Vogue magazine and indulging in articles about acne cleaners and advice on dating boys who have nothing to offer. 

“Stop suggesting that I am worried,” she snarled at him. “Lights out is in half an hour. She’s going to get caught sneaking out late, and our dorm mother already warned her about that once. If Enid is caught upon another infraction, she could suffer severe consequences for her actions.”

Ophelia Hall’s new dorm mother was a last-minute replacement for Thornhill—Laurel Gates. Unlike Thornhill—and much more like Gates—Miss Nightingale was an authoritarian. She was relatively tall, had long dark hair down to her lower back, and wore the meanest scowl Wednesday had ever seen, which said quite a lot. She didn’t bring the girls of Ophelia Hall a flower to match their personality, either. If Wednesday had been forced to say anything kind about Laurel’s facade, it would have been that she, at least, pretended to care.

I think she’s still with Yoko, Thing signed. 

“But it’s late,” Wednesday huffed like a little girl. “If she gets caught, I cannot help her. Miss Nightingale does not like when students step out of line. It makes her feel as though she’s doing a poor job at controlling us. She is doing a poor job, but it’s best she doesn’t feel that way, especially towards Enid.”

Worried? Thing smugly asked.

“That she will be punished in cruel and unusual ways?” Wednesday asked, biting at her lower lip as another minute passed and Enid failed to walk in. “Perhaps. I don’t trust our new dorm mother.”

It wasn’t that Wednesday cared at all about silly rules like lights out; she was happy to bend and break them if it supported what she wanted. But for someone like Enid, who had always kept a clean record at Nevermore, to look authority in the eye and accept a punishment for something as innocent as returning to her dorm late, it would have been utterly damaging to her ego and Wednesday would have been subjected to hearing Enid scream into her pillow over not being able to leave the dorm unless for classes and meals, which was Nightingale’s preferred method of consequence. 

Sit down, Thing signed, and flipped a page. You make me dizzy. 

Wednesday’s eyebrows cinched at him. She glared and wrinkled her nose. Thing found humor in it, because she looked so much like she did when she was four and Gomez refused to allow her to play with the grenades she had been given for her birthday; he had said it was too early in the day and she would have to wait until after dinner. 

“Fine,” she huffed, and sat at the edge of her bed. “I suppose I should prepare for bed. Enid will come back whenever she is ready, though most likely not without some sort of punishment.”

She took her hairbrush in her right hand, working the elastics from the ends of her braids with the other. Her hair expanded and took a much needed breather as it freed itself in large waves created by the thick strands she tightened every day. She carefully ran her brush through her hair, ends first, and then worked her way to her scalp. 

The moment she reconciled with the fact that Enid was not going to return home any time soon, the door swung open and in came a bouncy, excited pastel werewolf who took the form of a pink-painted human. Wednesday passively acknowledged her with a pitiful glance, before continuing to tend to her long hair. 

“Sorry, I’m just grabbing—woah,” Enid rambled, standing just a few feet from Wednesday’s bed. Her eyes were round and curious as she pointed to the seer, who ignored her reaction. “Your hair! It’s so long!”

Wednesday went to sarcastically thank Enid for the observation, still somewhat disheartened by her roommate’s late arrival, but she quickly came to the realization that Enid had never seen her hair in its natural resting state. Those Wednesday cared for had seen her hair this way, completely natural and long, but the outsiders only knew her as “the girl with the braids,” or some other defining factor, like how obsessed with murder and mystery she was. 

“I’ve never seen your hair like that,” Enid said, still pointing at Wednesday, as if she were an animal to be gawked at. “It’s so. . .pretty.” 

A proper “thank you” would have been the most appropriate response to such a comment, but all Wednesday could think to do was redo her braids, though a bit looser than typical, and narrow her eyes at her bubbly roommate who looked as though she’d just seen a monster—again. 

“You are late, Enid,” Wednesday said as she tied the end of her left braid and moved her hands to the right. “It is five until ten. You are quite lucky Nightingale didn’t see you wandering.”

“Technically, I’m not late,” Enid quickly pointed out. “I have until ten. And besides, I’m only here to get some of my stuff. Yoko and Divina invited me to spend the night at Yoko’s. We’re gonna have an impromptu girls’ night.” 

Unfortunately, that put Wednesday at some unease. She had been under the interpretation that Enid would return, get ready for bed, and go to sleep in their own room, as she had done nearly every other night. Wednesday felt disgustingly demoralized that her routine—her sense of normalcy—had been compromised within minutes. 

“You did not tell me you would be sleeping away tonight,” she pointed out as she tied her other braid off with a silk elastic. “I was not expecting this.”

Enid’s face turned into a frown of concern. Wednesday tried to disregard it, busying herself with returning her hairbrush to its regular place on her nightstand, but those blue eyes burned a hole into her head. 

“You’re not upset, are you?” Enid cautiously asked, stepping a little closer to Wednesday, as if approaching a wild, untamed animal. “I mean, I can ask them if you can come. I’m sure they’d be fine with it. We’re just gonna watch a movie and—“

“Enid, I do not want to accompany you,” she immediately said, attempting to rectify what Enid thought was a passive request for an invitation. “I’m just. . .accustomed to our routine, so to speak, and I was not expecting you to be away tonight.”

It was too late to backtrack on the possessive adjective “our” by the time Wednesday realized that she had just assigned responsibility of their schedule to Enid. She closed her mouth, fearing something even more unbecoming would leave her if she didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were gonna do this tonight,” Enid said, shrugging. “They just invited me, like, five minutes ago. I can stay if it would make you feel better.” 

Wednesday nearly scoffed at the idea of Enid catering to her need for routine and cancelling an activity to stay with her like she were some sort of unaccompanied child. It was laughable, at best. 

“I’m not asking for you to stay, either,” she quickly corrected. “I was just a bit blindsided by the sudden change of plans. I am just fine here. Go on, before you’re late for lights out.”

“Are you sure?” Enid hesitantly asked, uncomfortably squirming like she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. “I can totally stay.”

“No,” Wednesday insisted, picking up her book. “I’m going to do some reading to help me fall asleep. You can go.”

It was so silly, the way Wednesday was granting Enid permission to leave their dorm as if she needed it. Enid seemed to seek it, always pressing the matter until she was certain that Wednesday was in genuine agreement rather than blindly accepting only to satiate her. 

“Well, I’ll just grab my stuff. . .” Enid responded, already gathering a pair of pajamas and clothes for the morning, plus her laptop and nail polishes. 

Disregarding Enid, Wednesday sat against her headboard with her potion book in her lap. She flicked through the pages and settled into her pillow without so much as a second glance at the girl rummaging around the other side of the room. 

“I’ll be back after breakfast in the morning,” Enid told Wednesday, halfway out the door with her backpack over one shoulder and her Hello Kitty blanket folded under one arm. “After nine, I think. We’ll probably wake up late.”

“I expect nothing less,” Wednesday replied, too immersed in her book to concern herself with it. “I will be awake by seven. No need to tiptoe around me when you return.” 

Enid could not fathom how Wednesday managed to rise so early on a Saturday. It was one of the many intriguing aspects of her roommate that truly perplexed her, but she wasn’t one to comment on it. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she told Wednesday. “‘Night.”

Wednesday never looked up from her book.

“Goodnight.” 

The door quietly shut, and Wednesday was left to fester alone until sunrise. Bitterly, she contemplated using her useless cellphone to send a quick text to Yoko about her inconvenient timing and impulsive decision to invite Enid over so late, but she came to a realization that things like this are what friends—people who enjoy one another’s company—did with each other. She wouldn’t know that based on her own experience, because the only person besides Enid she could consider a friend was Eugene, and he never invited her anywhere except the Hummers shed. But Enid—popular, social butterfly Enid—had a lot of friends and always made time for them, at Wednesday’s expense. 

Sighing, Wednesday turned out the overhead lights, used her bedside lamp to see the pages, and slowly drifted off with her book splayed open on her chest. 

As she fell asleep, she thought about how much fun Enid was probably having with Yoko and Divina, and she wondered, with disgust in her heart, if she would ever receive the same treatment. 

—

Eugene

It was almost ten the following morning, and Wednesday had just wrapped up an infuriating hour of archery practice; well, it wasn’t so much practice as much as it was pinning an unsuspecting boy to her target by her arrow because he dared to wander his eye and take a good look at an unsuspecting Enid, who had leaned over to pick up the cellphone that fell out of her pocket. 

Eugene was beside himself with fear when Wednesday ducked into the Hummers shed. The girl seemed murderous and enraged by something or someone. It wasn’t an uncommon characteristic of Wednesday; she was frequently agitated and easily irritable since Nevermore’s reopening in late January. But her cinched eyebrows, scrunched nose, and dark eyes frightened the boy. 

“Is something wrong?” Eugene dared to ask as he was tending to his hive. “You seem a lot more mad today.”

“I am a bit more cross than usual, yes,” she blatantly agreed with little room for argument. She folded her arms across her chest. “I just finished my usual archery practice. I’m here to assist you with your bees, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” he said, plainly. 

Wednesday took in the wary and slightly nervous expression on Eugene’s face. She felt somewhat offended by it, and went to rectify what seemed to be her mistake. 

“Unless you’d prefer I not,” she followed up. “I’m only offering help because. . .”

Pausing, she averted her gaze to a poster featuring a bee on the wall. Eugene had clearly redecorated over the past week, and she took a liking to the simplicity of it. Nothing was too bright or loud; nothing like Enid’s side of her dorm.

“I suppose I have no other company, nor do I have anything scheduled until after lunch,” she told Eugene, regrettably becoming insecure. “I have fencing with Bianca at one. Until then, my schedule is flexible.”

Eugene continued to give her a hesitant look of concern. Wednesday rarely asked to participate in anything, and though he would consider her a friend, she hardly ever attended beekeeping club with pleasure. Some days they would be in good company, working around one another with minimal words between them, but most days were quiet and easily passable. 

“Sure,” he finally agreed. “I just need help cleaning up my workbench.”

Nodding, Wednesday turned to the workbench, which had been littered with empty mason jars and various tools Eugene used to avoid being stung. Her hand grasped the edge of the workbench, clenching around the splintered wood. She hardly flinched when something sharp yet pliable sunk into her index finger. 

There was a red stain, the size of a lemon, painted into the wood. She tilted her head at it, perplexed as to when Eugene decided that he wanted to paint such a trivial fixture in his shed. Then, her throat tightened and she snapped her eyes shut as she ran two tentative fingertips over it. 

Uncle Fester. Thing. Electricity. Blood. 

Thing had nearly died, and if Uncle Fester hadn’t been so reckless enough to need a place to stay while the authorities went on a manhunt for him, he would have. And Wednesday, as morose as she had already felt, would have been at fault.

Immediately reverting to the present with wet eyes, she took in a large breath. Her eyelids flew open and she found Eugene staring at her as if she were an animal at the local zoo. Though she felt caged and limited in her habitat, she refused to be compared to an animal. 

“Wednesday?” Eugene asked. “You alright?”

“Yes,” she quickly said. Her chest hurt and contracted as she struggled to breathe. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he replied with a shrug as he peeled off his beekeeping suit. “I’m surprised you aren’t with Enid.”

Wednesday organized a few jars, stacking them atop each other against the wall. Some were dirty with residual honey and some were perfectly clean. She separated them and continued to adjust their positions several times over, as if nothing satisfied her.

“She is clearly occupied with other endeavors,” she told him without looking up from her task. “It’s alright; she finds validation in friendships. I don’t need that to survive like she does.”

Eugene’s eyes met hers for a half second before Wednesday quickly returned to reorganizing the jars the same way she had placed them the first time. She seemed half mad, stacking and moving and dismantling her tower of jars several times, as if she were playing a solo game of Jenga. 

“I would consider us friends,” Eugene suddenly told her, startling her. He went quiet for a moment, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We are friends, right?” 

Wednesday took a guilted moment to stop fiddling with the jars, to turn to Eugene. His head was tilted down a bit, eyes somewhat drooped with disappointment. For the first time since she had thrown her arms around Enid in a desperate embrace, Wednesday felt that primal need within her; the need to nurture and care and devote herself to the likeness of others. She hadn’t felt it often. If anything, she couldn’t feel anything at all. But the way Eugene looked at her, so somber and dejected, like his feelings had been wounded, sent a stake stabbing through her chest. 

“Of course,” Wednesday finally rectified. 

She tried, with great effort, to pull the corners of her lips into a smile. To anyone who barely took notice of her, it would have been something terrifying to see, but for Eugene, who took very kindly to Wednesday and stuck to her like a curly-haired thorn in her side, it was comforting and brought forth a wave of peace washing over him. 

“Good,” he said with a grin. “Because I already told my moms you’re my best friend.”

Setting another jar atop her glass tower, Wednesday looked to him and, in an uncontrollable movement she would reserve for only her little brother at home, gently grabbed onto his chin and lifted it so he was looking directly at her. 

“You are a very honest person, then,” she said, releasing his face and returning to whatever her task actually was. 

Eugene fiddled with his glasses again. Wednesday paid him no mind as she worked to stack the rest of the mason jars. She jerked away at a soft touch against her palm, backing herself into the corner of the shed and pressing both arms into her chest.

“Sorry,” Eugene apologized, raising his hands in surrender. “You have a splinter. I was trying to get it out so it doesn’t get infected. My moms always said that Neosporin is the best for wounds. I have some in my first-aid kit.”

“I can extract it,” said Wednesday, already peeling herself away from the wall. “No need to worry about me. I’ve gotten plenty of splinters in my life. This is nothing to me.” 

In comparison to other splinters, it was a bit more painful and agonizingly pleasurable, but in comparison to the scar on her abdomen and the residual ache in her palm, it felt like cold aloe vera on a peeling, blistered sunburn. 

As Wednesday’s pincher grasp worked the long piece of wood from the bleeding hole in her index finger, Eugene rummaged around on the other side of the shed. The wood left Wednesday’s flesh painlessly and bloody, and she grinned in triumph at it before tossing it into a nearby trash can. 

“I got it out, Eugene,” Wednesday told the fretting boy. He didn’t respond, and she frowned. “Eugene?”

A warm hand circled her wrist and tugged her slightly forward. As she blinked away her immediate confusion, she took in the cool yet burnt sting seeping into her wound. She contentedly shivered, attempting to conceal her smile of pleasure. 

“Sorry, I’m just cleaning it,” Eugene told her, throwing the stained and bloodied antiseptic wipe into the trash. “I know it hurts.”

“It feels very nice, actually,” she positively hummed with a nod. 

Eugene didn’t give her even one odd glance at that. Instead, he applied a decent amount of oily Neosporin to the wound and opened a clean bandaid package, at which Wednesday grunted and began to squirm away. Bandaids were not for someone like her; they were for whiny children after receiving a vaccine or scraping their knee on the sidewalk. Bandaids, especially one patterned with bees on the outer shell, did not belong on Wednesday.

Despite her resistance, Eugene continued to pull at her like an annoying little sibling. More annoying than his tugging, she was slighted by the fact that she didn’t mind his nagging. He reminded her too much of Pugsley and their time spent together at home, just the two of them roughhousing with a guillotine and headless baby dolls.  

“Wednesday, it’s gonna get super infected and gross, like that one SpongeBob episode,” Eugene said, still pulling at her. 

Wednesday tilted her head at him. “I’m not sure what that comparison alludes to.”

“Woah,” he replied, eyes widening at her. “You’ve never seen SpongeBob?”

“What is a SpongeBob?” she asked him and shook her head. “It sounds very silly and childish.”

Eugene had to laugh at that. By the time Wednesday attempted to ask him what was so funny about her not knowing what a SpongeBob was, she looked down to find a bee bandaid wrapped tightly around her index finger. 

“You distracted me,” she muttered at him, scowling. “You distracted me with a SpongeBob so you could put this heinous thing on me. Please remove it. The color will cause me to itch.” 

Again, Eugene laughed, and Wednesday smiled. She didn’t take the bandaid off.

—

Shortly after two in the afternoon, Wednesday found herself standing in front of her wall mirror as she tentatively cleansed her fencing wound with an antiseptic wipe. She had challenged Bianca to an unprotected duel and sustained a few nicks to the face. Her most brutal cut, though, was an inch long and laid above her left eyebrow. Bianca had apologized to her for the wound, but she had already forgiven her by the time she felt the blood ooze down her face. If anything, she had to thank the siren for allowing her to feel something since the blood moon. 

Frustrated with herself, she dabbed at the cut with the wipe before pressing a dry gauze to the center of it. She wasn’t going to slap a silly bandaid over it and wear it as a badge of honor; she only wanted to clot it and keep it dry so she wouldn’t have to visit the infirmary for an infection and waste more valuable time she did not have. 

The cut continued to ooze, even after a few minutes of Wednesday staring at her dark circles under her eyes in the mirror with her fingers clotting the laceration. Her reflection left nothing to the imagination; her cheekbones had sunken in, her eyelids drooped, her flesh had somehow only gotten much paler. If anyone didn’t know any better, they could rightfully claim she was dead and rose from the grave. 

She removed the gauze from her forehead as the door swung open. Two happy footsteps bounced into the room, followed by the door closing and Enid squealing at something that was probably in her own head. 

“Wednesday!” the werewolf excitedly cried. “Hey, Wednesday!”

Blonde, pink-tipped hair and bright blue eyes appeared over Wednesday’s shoulder. The excitement quickly vanished from Enid’s face as she took in the ghastly cuts on Wednesday’s cheek and forehead. Her hand, so attentive yet cautious, reached up, but Wednesday was quick to move away.

“Your face!” Enid exclaimed, frowning in discontent. “Wednesday, I told you to stop challenging Bianca. She’ll accept every time and this is the outcome. Your face is way too pretty to be scratched up like this.” 

Wednesday’s breath hitched. She hadn’t considered herself, or her face, to be described as pretty; no, that was a word reserved for Enid. Everyone thought Enid was pretty, and that was one of the few words to describe the werewolf that didn’t have a scandalous or sexual connotation behind it. The werewolf boys frequently whistled at her and called her “hot,” but pretty was thrown around by people like Yoko and the softer, kinder boys, like Eugene. 

Enid was certainly pretty. But Wednesday and pretty did not fit. 

Still, Wednesday felt herself warm a few degrees at Enid’s description.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Bianca is not without lacerations. I’m sure she’s tending to her inch-long cut on her right cheek.” 

“You need to stop fencing without tips,” Enid sighed. 

A warm hand cupped the curve of Wednesday’s left cheek. She stiffened under the touch and shrunk into herself.

“Dammit, it’s still bleeding,” Enid swore as she grabbed another piece of cotton from the open first-aid kit. “Like I said, your face is too pretty for scratches.”

Wednesday floundered as Enid pressed the gauze to her wound. Over the curvature of Enid’s raised arm, she could see the scars slashed over Enid’s cheek. If scratches made someone not pretty, she wondered what Enid thought of herself, and the more she had to wonder, the sicker she became. Enid wouldn’t have to feel so not-pretty if it weren’t for Wednesday’s poor choices last semester. 

“There,” Enid proudly said, removing a clean gauze from Wednesday’s forehead. “It clotted. You’re all good now.”

A thank you was probably in order, but Wednesday couldn’t fathom any words beyond pretty. 

Enid’s eye caught something interesting. Suddenly, she lifted Wednesday’s hand and stared at it with such disapproval. 

“What happened to your finger?” she finally sighed, shaking her head. 

A soft grunt left Wednesday, and she tried to tug away, but Enid’s hand clamped around her wrist. She let go of a quiet sigh and looked up at the disappointed werewolf. 

“It was a splinter,” she replied with a frown. “No need to worry about it. It’s been tended to.”

Enid dropped Wednesday’s hand and sighed again. Wednesday became squeamish under her gaze, as if she were being violently scolded or witnessing her parents swap saliva in their family car with no escape. 

“You’re always getting hurt,” Enid said. “You are so accident-prone.”

The tiniest of smirks pulled at Wednesday’s lips.

“I know.”

For a moment, Enid wanted to be angry at how nonchalant Wednesday was acting at being injured in so many places, but as she watched the smirk grow, she realized, with annoyance, that her roommate enjoyed this. She enjoyed suffering lacerations and contusions; she even considered them to be fun, the way Enid considered shopping and coffee dates to be fun. 

Enid would never understand her, but that was something to be expected for someone like Wednesday. She was not easily digestible or understandable. It was hardly intentional, rather only completely organic.

“I just came by to get my wallet,” Enid finally said as she parted from Wednesday. “The girls and I are going shopping in Jericho.”

Wednesday remained firmly planted to her side of the room, though she stared at Enid with longing. Enid rummaged around her desk and found her pink wrist wallet that held her student bank card and a few bills of cash her parents would intermittently send her to satiate her need to shop and consume junk food she couldn’t get from the cafeteria. Though the Sinclairs may have been neglectful in emotional support, they attempted to make up for it in all the money they could give Enid to stifle her. It was, for the most part, enough to keep her tears at bay.

“I thought you just went shopping last weekend,” Wednesday pointed out. “How many materialistic items does one person really need?”

“But it’s mostly just to hang out and stuff,” Enid replied with a shrug. “There aren’t any malls nearby, but back home, I used to hang out there with friends and not buy anything all the time. It’s fun to do. You get to gossip and talk about boys—and girls—and window shop and have lunch.” 

“You’d be less tempted if you didn’t take your money with you,” Wednesday attempted to reason, still standing in the middle of the room. She pretended to miss the way Enid had said and girls. “As the saying goes, money burns a hole in your pocket.” 

Enid playfully scoffed. “Says the girl who is literally made of old money.”

“That is not a proper use of the word literally,” she sighed. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip. “And my family’s estate was not earned. It’s only ours by inheritance. I don’t find pleasure or use in it. My parents supply me with just enough to survive without them nearby. Spending money you did not earn, on frivolous items and feeding capitalism, is morally corrupt.” 

As Wednesday had expected, Enid let out a frustrated huff of contempt. The seer’s views on money and wealth were vastly different than Enid’s, but the topic rarely presented itself in conversation, because they were still so young and money shouldn’t have been anything to worry about. Still, it was enough to fluster Enid to the brink of tears.  

“You don’t have to get it,” Enid finally told her. “I like to shop and get expensive coffees every day. My parents give me enough to do that. It’s really none of your business how much money they give me or how much I spend.” 

Wednesday disregarded her with a head tilt. “Fine. I suppose money should not be a point of concern for either of us. But I am still questioning how you can tolerate such frequent outings with others. It seems emotionally exhausting and worrisome.” 

“But it’s fun. I love my friends,” said Enid, pouting at her. “You should try it sometime.” 

Suddenly, she perked up, and Wednesday clenched her jaw. 

“You should come with us!” Enid exclaimed, her hands doing that annoying thing where they clench and tremble. “It’ll be fun! You don’t even have to buy anything!”

Swallowing the sudden fear in her throat, Wednesday shook her head at the werewolf, who was now tugging at her shirt in urgency. She didn’t push Enid off or make it known just how slighted she was by the suggestion. 

“Oh. . .Enid, I couldn’t intrude on your bonding time with your friends,” she said with a dry tongue. “It wouldn’t be fair. They did not invite me.” 

“But I did, and they won’t care,” Enid continued to persist. “It’s just Yoko and Divina. They’re gonna be making out and flirting the whole time, anyway. I need a partner to kinda balance that out.” 

Wednesday would have questioned what Enid meant by partner, but she didn’t feel right. Dread sank to the bottom of her stomach, and she unclenched her jaw. 

“I don’t think I should accompany you,” she argued in return. “My attendance would interrupt their plans and schedule. Schedules are very important.”

“Yeah, to you,” replied Enid as she pocketed her wallet. “Seriously, just get your shit and come on. I can only stomach watching them make out for so long before they make me sick.” 

Dark brown eyes looked up at Enid. 

“Displays of affection, public or private, disturb me in a way that is not enjoyable. My parents frequently attempt to swallow one another,” Wednesday said, lip curling. “I understand how that makes you feel.” 

A small sigh left Enid as her shoulders deflated in disappointment. Wednesday, not privy to body language, didn’t understand the reason behind it. 

“Well, I’d still like a distraction from them, even if I love them to death,” Enid said, once again pursuing the matter. “I can only watch them for so long before I get bored.” 

“I will be honest in saying that I don’t understand the concept of loving someone, especially someone you are not romantically bonded to,” Wednesday replied, fidgeting with her thumbs. “It seems trivial.” 

Enid faltered and scrambled for words, though she could only muster another agitated sigh from her lungs. 

“I love people platonically,” she finally told Wednesday, even if there was a bit of uncertainty at the end of her declaration. “Which means—“

“To be intimate or affectionate without sexual undertones or intentions,” Wednesday completed. “I’m familiar.” 

Nodding, Enid gave her roommate half of a shrug. Wednesday took advantage of Enid’s sudden lack of attention, wriggling her way from under the wolf’s arm. She smoothed out her shirt and rested her hands at her sides. 

“So,” Enid awkwardly said, blue eyes barely meeting Wednesday’s, “are you gonna go with me or not?”

“I’ll consider,” Wednesday gave in, despite that unfamiliar weight at the bottom of her stomach. 

“Well, you’re kinda all out of time,” Enid pointed out as she typed a message on her phone. She pocketed it and took a deep breath. “Yoko is telling me to hurry up or she’s gonna leave me behind and make it a date with Divina.” 

Wednesday waited another heartbeat’s worth of time before she took in a breath and walked over to her desk chair. She slid herself into her hoodie that hung on the back of her chair, slipped her backpack onto her back, using both straps around her shoulders, and halfway zipped up her hoodie. 

She had been wearing a form-fitting shirt for comfort during fencing—a method to enhance her agility and not become overwhelmed by her clothes pooling around herself—and was certainly now out of time to change into something more appropriate for an outing. Her dresses and oversized clothing left much to the imagination, and though she wished to be more like Enid and not concern herself with what anyone thought of her body, she felt insecure. 

“Let’s go,” she told Enid, already walking towards the door. 

“Oh!” Enid exclaimed, a bit too excited to accompany her roommate. “This is gonna be so fun!”

Wednesday wrapped a damp hand around the doorknob, tightening her jaw. 

“Well, are you going to join me, or are you going to stand there and gawk at me?” she asked Enid, who went rigid at her words. “My offer to attend this outing with you today expires in five seconds.”

Suddenly and with a furious blush over her face, Enid bounced to the door the same way she had entered, and carefully shoved Wednesday out of the way so she could open it wider for her. Wednesday backed herself away, giving Enid an incredulous stare, before ducking her head down and leaving the room. 

All too happy to oblige, Enid closed the door as quickly as she could and rushed to catch up with Wednesday, who was already halfway down the stairs that led to the main entrance of Nevermore. She missed a step and nearly took a tumble down the second half of the staircase, only marginally rescued by the railing she caught onto. 

At the bottom of the staircase, Wednesday grumbled something under her breath and folded her arms over her chest. 

“Enid, you are quite clumsy for a werewolf,” she pointed out. “You act as if you’re going on your first date.”

Enid jumped off the last step and brushed off her skirt. Wednesday blinked once at her, gesturing to the entry door, which was propped open to let the early spring sunlight into the building. 

“That’s not—that’s not what I’m doing,” she quickly told Wednesday. “Come on. Yoko said we’re taking the shuttle there. It leaves in five minutes. Can’t be late. She’ll kill me.” 

Warm sunlight washing over her pallor, Wednesday glared into the sky. It was early April and everything cold had melted away. The nights were still colder than most places, but the daytime always brought forth some comforting heat. Wednesday absolutely despised it and wanted to shrink into her hoodie, where it was dark and unassuming.

Still, it was far more tolerable than sitting in a bus with a dozen other students who smacked their gum and made crude jokes about the female Nevermore staff. 

“How about we walk there?” Wednesday offered. “Yoko and Divina can take the shuttle if they would like to. I would prefer to walk. You can join them in the bus if you’d prefer.”

Enid glanced at the shuttle that was parked on the curb just outside the gates. Kids were already filing into the bus, and she could catch sight of Divina and Yoko sharing a brief kiss on the sidewalk before they linked hands and climbed up the steps onto the bus. She didn’t miss the way Yoko glanced at her cellphone and rolled her eyes before she put her sunglasses back on. 

“No, it’s okay,” she told Wednesday. “We can walk. I’ll just tell them I’ll be a few minutes late.” 

“Really, Enid, you can go with them,” Wednesday insisted, adjusting her backpack. “I will meet you there. I just. . .don’t feel comfortable sandwiching myself in such a crowded space with others.”

“And I don’t want you walking alone,” she said with a hard swallow. “I’ll go with you. Come on. If we get a head start and walk fast, we’ll only be a few minutes behind them.” 

“Fine,” Wednesday readily agreed before turning on her heel and beginning to exit the gates. “Keep up with me.” 

Enid exited the gate just an inch behind her roommate. “Are you forgetting I’m a werewolf and that speed and strength are, like, my thing?”

“You don’t seem to act like it,” Wednesday muttered. 

Taking no offense to the comment, Enid gathered up her discombobulated thoughts and followed Wednesday down the sidewalk and past the shuttle that was still idling with the engine roaring. She glanced up into one of the windows and inhaled sharply. 

Yoko, who had taken off her sunglasses, stared directly into baby blue eyes through a tinted window. A tiny smirk materialized onto her lips, and Enid stuck up her middle finger as she tilted her head down and continuing trailing behind Wednesday like an obedient dog.

—

Divina

The four of them had been prancing around Jericho for the better part of two hours by the time Divina found herself worn-out enough to take a seat on a bench outside of a clothing store Yoko and Enid had taken refuge in to do some browsing and gossiping about who knows what.

Wednesday didn’t find Divina all that riveting. Divina was one of the more unassuming, quiet sirens, much like her twin brother, and didn’t indulge in many activities beyond Nightshade gatherings and dates with Yoko. Her modest personality made her slightly more favorable to Wednesday, though the interest was few and far between. 

Despite her lack of desire to befriend the blue-tinted siren, Wednesday cautiously took it upon herself to occupy the space next to Divina, who startled at the sudden company and cold demeanor washing over her. 

“I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable,” Wednesday said, in a moment of surprising awareness of other people. “They have been in there far too long and I’m beginning to become agitated by their lack of urgency of time.”

“You’re fine,” Divina replied as she grabbed her cellphone from Yoko’s backpack and caught up on a few texts from Kent. “Yoko and Enid can spend hours shopping if you let them. They’re such girls.”

A laugh left Divina, and Wednesday frowned at her. Divina, now certain that Kent knew where she was and would calm down about her leaving Nevermore without him, looked to Wednesday. The smile slid off her face.

“You okay?” Divina asked. “You look confused or something.”

Wednesday was more than only confused. She also felt very perplexed and warm. She wanted to shrug off her hoodie and allow her skin to cool under the blazing sun, but there were people—people other than the girl staring at her with those bright siren eyes—nearby, brushing past her and glancing at her with looks of disgust. She shrank into herself while Divina patiently awaited some sort of answer. 

“You said that they are such girls,” Wednesday repeated. “Are you not also a girl?”

“Oh,” Divina giggled. “Well, I am. I just meant that they do such girly things with each other while I kinda just sit here. I mean, I don’t really assign gender roles like that, but they really are such girls compared to me. I get compared to Kent a lot. So either I’m really boyish or Kent is really girlish. That’s still up for debate all these years later.” 

Wednesday squirmed under the harsh sunlight. She wished she had sunglasses like Yoko’s. Perhaps then Divina wouldn’t be able to see the slight mortification and disgust in her dark eyes as she practically sneered at the siren. 

“That does quite sound like assigning gender roles,” she told Divina. “My younger brother and I share very similar hobbies. No one compares us to the other. Sharing hobbies and interests is part of being a person, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but your hobbies are, like, torturing people and digging up dead things. Those don’t have gender roles because they’re weird and just plain crimes,” Divina said with a shake of her head. She looked down at her lap and fiddled with the zipper on her baby blue jacket. “It’s different when you grow up being told that you have to like pink, glittery things and baby dolls and your brother has to like trucks and digging in the dirt.” 

The defeated expression smothering Divina’s features was pathetically embarrassing. She leaned back into the back of the bench and lifted her head to get a good look at the clouds parting over a blue sky. 

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you anything,” she told Wednesday, who almost agreed with bitterness in her heart. “I hardly know you beyond how you like to torture information out of people. All I know about you is that you’re a total psychopath.” 

Wednesday thought of Tyler and the Hyde just then, and when she turned her head to the left, she caught a glimpse of the Weathervane’s windows. That knot at the pit of her stomach only tightened and everything inside of her hurt. She hadn’t been to the Weathervane since that night she caught a brief sliver of who he really was, and she had very little intention of ever paying that establishment a visit again. 

She felt sick, and if Divina weren’t around, she would lean over the nearby garbage can and lose her lunch. 

“I take that as a compliment,” she eventually told Divina, overcoming her wave of nausea. “Thank you, Divina.” 

Divina tightened her lips to forbade the smile she wanted to give the seer. Her efforts ran dry and she let the mask slip off her face. 

“You are so weird,” Divina said to her. “I just insulted you. You thanked me for insulting you. I’d ask what’s wrong with you, but it seems the jury might still be out about that.”

“I figured you were being kind to me, though kindness quite disturbs me,” she replied, shrugging at Divina and scowling at the nail polish chipping off the side of her thumbnail. “I understand why some may view you as dull. They’re comparing you to Kent. They don’t see twins as individuals, but as one being melded together at conception and separated at birth.” 

“Dull?” Divina asked with mortification. She leaned into Wednesday, those bright eyes meeting hers for a discomforting second. “Who said I’m dull?”

Perhaps Wednesday shouldn’t have even mentioned that specific word. She had heard it thrown around Nevermore in reference to Divina and Kent, especially when Kent would say something from left field. It was difficult to miss the way the other students pointed at them from behind and shared whispers about their parents and the type of home they grew up in. It was clear to Wednesday that there was a lot left to be desired when it came to the pair, and her curious digging through Nevermore’s extensive information of their wealthy alumni only told her very little about the twin sirens themselves and more about their parents. 

“You can’t possibly mean that you’ve not heard the whispers and rumors about you and your brother,” Wednesday said. “They don’t view you as an individual. They view you as an extension of Kent, like he failed to consume you in the womb, and they talk about your parents and how much money they’ve donated to Nevermore’s funding and assume the large amount of funds is the only reason you and Kent can attend. You suffer with guilt by association because you’ve simply adapted to your role as a sister to class clown Kent and an obedient daughter to wealthy alumni parents who partake in frequent luxury vacations and have very little to offer when it comes to raising their children.” 

A bird cawed overhead as Divina curled into herself. She sniffled once or twice but never once offered Wednesday a genuine sign of upset. Instead, she swiveled her head to face the other girl. Her cheeks were tinged pink from kisses of the afternoon sunlight. 

“And you believe those things?” she asked, sitting more upright and swallowing what felt like anger. “You know, Wednesday, when you first got here and everyone called you a crazed lunatic with a homicidal tendency, I also assumed it to be true, but I didn’t ostracize you because of it. And I definitely didn’t think so hard about it enough to form some sort of detailed, complex theory about you and your family.” 

“I don’t think that your parents are wealthy contributors to Nevermore’s growing book collection and technology advancements,” Wednesday rectified. “I know.” 

Divina folded her arms and sulked. “And what else do you know, since you’re just so smart?”

“I know that, last summer, your mother donated a quarter of a million to Nevermore’s transpiration department, which is the only reason you were able to take a bus here and not blister yourself walking,” replied Wednesday. “And your father makes frequent, smaller donations to provide textbooks and fancy technology every three or four months.”

Divina licked her chapped lips and glared at Wednesday. The sunlight turned her eyes a crystal clear blue, like the bottom of a Florida beach’s water. Wednesday, admittedly, understood why Yoko loved to stare at them. In this lighting, they reminded her so much of Enid’s. 

“And what else?” the siren challenged. 

“Your parents decided that you outgrew your nannies when you and Kent turned twelve and looked to Nevermore’s staff to look after you in exchange for monetary contributions,” Wednesday continued. “However, I do not believe that you are only deserving of your place here because of what your parents give to the school board. I think that you are much better off here than you would be at home—wherever that is—without your parents around.” 

“Well, aren’t you a smart-ass,” Divina snarked back. 

Wednesday didn’t quite understand why Divina seemed so offended by her merely stating a few facts. She felt as though she had struck some sort of nerve, and she found little appreciation in the way the siren’s mood seemed to shift like night and day. 

Silence befell the pair as they both looked forward and watched passersby enter and exit the Weathervane at an alarming rate. Wednesday took note of a toddler boy sitting in a booth next to one of the windows, messily sipping something out of a mug. She wondered if he would be foolish enough to spill that hot coffee over himself and what degree burn he would suffer, if the flesh would blister and slide off his little bones. 

With a sudden shake of her head, she realized that was not a normal or healthy thought that normal or healthy people had. She had thought too far and made herself sick by it. She clutched her lower abdomen and leaned over the slightest bit, as to not alert Divina, who was staring into the sun. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Divina asked, without looking away from the sky. 

“It seems I just have some stomach pain,” Wednesday immediately said through a quick breath, sitting upright. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. No need to—“

“Not your obvious period cramps,” Divina replied. She looked away from the sunlight and finally returned her attention to Wednesday, who clenched her jaw and cradled her abdomen. “That was a general question. What the hell happened to you to make you like this?”

Wednesday almost shrugged, but moving was too painful and she didn’t enjoy the way it felt this time. 

“This is very normal behavior for an Addams,” Wednesday said. “My brother and I were raised to behave this way, though Pugsley has very little backbone and is always falling victim to scheming pranks and bullying, whereas I’m seen as a deadly nightshade plant or, as some have called me, a black widow. My entire life has been dedicated to protecting him from those normie monsters at my former public school, and while I’d rather eat a live tarantula than ever admit this to my parents, I have spent time considering what I would do to someone if anyone were to harm them. Drawing and quartering pleasantly comes to mind.” 

Divina nodded. “If you and I have anything in common, it’s that, I guess. Minus the ‘killing someone for your parents’ thing. They can jump off a bridge and take their money with them, for all I care.” 

“A bit harsh there,” Wednesday hummed. “I like that.”

“No, seriously,” Divina scoffed at her. “It’s always been me and Kent, Kent and I. Always. My parents didn’t come into a lot of money until we were about four, so we do have some grainy memories of being normal kids, but most of our lives were maintained by nannies and random people coming in and out of the house to take care of it so they could be off doing whatever they felt like. They realized that money could buy them whatever they wanted, including lack of responsibility over the two kids they never wanted to have.” 

For a moment, Wednesday sat with that. Her parents, despite enriched with money from past generations, didn’t hire nannies or push their children onto other people. Of course, her mother frequently stayed home to mind her and Pugsley while they destroyed the house, so perhaps the situation differed from Divina’s, whose parents both clearly worked outside of the home. 

She attempted, with difficulty, to not uphold any judgement, though she had to wonder if they had any extended family the twins could have been placed with for childcare. Wednesday and Pugsley had Uncle Fester and Grandmama to fall back on when both of their parents went on dates to the cemetery to exhume one or two bodies for personal pleasure. 

Divina seemed to have no one, and for the first time since she had seen the brutal scars on Enid’s face under the blood moon, Wednesday felt pity.

“I figured your parents were one of the wealthy alumni that Yoko had mentioned,” Wednesday finally said. “Your surname is plastered all over Nevermore’s checkbook.”

A laugh left Divina. “You went snooping through the school’s funding? What’s the sense in that?” 

“I was feeling a bit bored on the day they had new computers delivered to the library,” Wednesday replied with a shrug. “Not many charities or fundraisers would contribute to people like us, and Nevermore is independent of any school districts. It has its own school board, but surely they can’t afford enough on their own to keep such a large campus open. Someone has to be feeding them money. But your parents aren’t the only ones providing us with useless technology; Yoko’s father is quite generous.” 

“Well, he is, like, really old,” Divina stated and, for the first time, gave Wednesday a genuine smile. “Last time he came to visit, he slapped fifty dollars in my hand and told me it was my payment for babysitting Yoko. Which really was just a thank-you for keeping her out of trouble. . .most of the time.”

Silence grew between them again, only more comfortable this time. The little boy inside the Weathervane never spilled his drink over himself, and Wednesday waited on the edge of her seat until it became clear that he was finished and unscathed. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and excitedly showed his empty cup to an adult next to him. He was so pudgy and easily excitable, just like Pugsley was at that age. 

“I understand, Divina,” she suddenly said, startling the distracted siren. “I know people enjoy their gossip, but I understand that the dynamic you have with Kent is special, especially having shared the womb.”

“He’s not stupid, you know,” Divina pointed out. “He sucks at tying people up and keeping secrets, but he’s plenty smart. He just plays dumb so no one expects anything of him.” 

“Surprising,” Wednesday muttered to the ground. 

A hand shoved her shoulder, but she figured she deserved as much. 

“This is kinda embarrassing for me to admit, but he does my math homework for me because I have dyscalculia,” Divina said, her head craned down. “I’m only passing algebra because of him.”

“Pugsley is only passing English because of me,” Wednesday included in an attempt at relation. “I suspect he is dyslexic.” 

The siren gave Wednesday another smile. Wednesday understood, with sickening warmth, why Yoko loved it so much. 

“I don’t think we’re so different,” Divina told Wednesday as she rummaged through Yoko’s backpack. “Yeah, you’re super weird and don’t have any friends besides Enid and Eugene, but I don’t think you’re really that different from the rest of us. I mean, aren’t all outcasts weird?” 

Wednesday never considered herself to be on par with any of her peers. She took kindly to Enid and Eugene because their vulnerability drew her to them. Eugene was too easily influenced and bullied by anyone taller than him, and Enid felt things with her entire body rather than only her heart. 

“I suppose,” said Wednesday, finally giving into the implication. She couldn’t help but to become distracted by Divina’s rummaging. “Lost something?” 

“No,” she replied. “I wanna give you something.”

“If it’s a friendship bracelet, I will have to decline,” said Wednesday, inching away from Divina. “I had difficulty accepting a snood from Enid.”

Divina giggled to herself as she made a tiny “ah-hah” sound. She produced a nicely-wrapped tampon from Yoko’s backpack and kindly set it in Wednesday’s lap. 

“Divina, I don’t—“ 

“I know period cramps when I see them,” she interjected, waving Wednesday off. “Just take it, in case.”

If Wednesday thought about it, her period was due to arrive tomorrow, though it wasn’t uncommon for it to ruin her day a bit earlier than planned. She pocketed the tampon with a grateful nod at Divina, who contentedly sighed and continued to ponder who knew what while Wednesday wondered what she could have done to deserve such unbridled kindness from someone she only knew from guilt by association. 

Laughing caught Wednesday’s attention. Yoko and Enid were exiting a shop a few yards away from the bench where she had been waiting and painfully bonding with Divina. Wednesday took note of the shopping bag in Enid’s hand, and grumbled something to herself as the pair approached her.

“Come on, lazy bones!” Enid called as she bumped Wednesday’s shoulder. “You both missed out on a good time!”

“I am perfectly content sitting here,” Wednesday stated. “I’d prefer not to be bothered.”

Yoko looked above the rims of her glasses, brushing a tentative hand through Divina’s hair. 

“And you?” Yoko asked. “You’d prefer not to be bothered?”

“I’m gonna get up,” Divina said, slumping forward as cold fingers massaged her scalp. “When I feel like it.”

Yoko glanced at her watch and took her hand from her girlfriend’s hair. “Well, you’d better feel like it in the next minute, or Enid and I are leaving you both here.”

“Yeah, we wanna go to that new bakery down the street,” Enid included, but she was only facing Wednesday. “Come on.” 

“Must I attend?” Wednesday complained with a sigh. “I’m comfortable here.”

Enid tugged Wednesday’s hoodie. “Yes! Your attendance is mandatory. You got to sit for over half an hour. Time to get up.” 

“Why must you be so pushy and insistent?” Wednesday murmured and pulled away from her roommate’s grasp. “There is nothing special there I would want.”

Enid’s bottom lip folded outwards and those glassy eyes made Wednesday itch. 

“Am I not something special?” she asked Wednesday. “That hurts my feelings.”

Divina concealed a grin through her teeth as she buried her face into Yoko’s hip, to which Yoko responded by running a hand down her back and scaling it back up to rest in her hair. 

“Enid, I do not understand why my attendance is so important to you,” Wednesday continued to argue under the heat of her cheeks. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Please?” Enid whined and jumped up and down like a child having a tantrum. “Please, please? Please? Please, please, please?”

“If you plead one more time, I’m going to rip those pink claws out of their cuticles,” warned the warm seer as she reluctantly stood up. “Fine. I will accompany you if it would stop this childish nonsense. You are drawing unwanted attention to us.” 

Taking in a breath of excitement, Enid grabbed hold of Wednesday’s arm and began tugging her the opposite way she and Yoko had materialized from. 

“Come on,” Enid urged. “I know you like croissants. I looked at the menu before we decided to go, and they have the best ones in town! You’ll like it, I promise.” 

As she was being pulled away, Wednesday glanced down at the shopping bag between her and Enid. 

“I see you couldn’t resist spending money, just as we talked about before leaving our room,” she pointed out. “When are you ever going to take my words into consideration?”

“Sorry,” Enid halfheartedly apologized. “I just saw this really cute top and I couldn’t say no to it. Wanna see it?”

“Not in particular,” she replied, though she found herself mildly curious about it. She shook away her concern over what heinous thing Enid could have found, and began walking away. “Let’s go.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

Like a trained puppy, Enid gathered up her thoughts and quickly followed the girl down the street, disregarding her friends, who stood by the bench and watched her leave with amusement in their eyes. 

“They’re such wives,” Yoko told Divina. 

Divina sighed and leaned her head on Yoko’s shoulder. “They’re married and they don’t even know it yet.” 

“Yet,” Yoko repeated with implication, grinning. “That’s the key word.”

“Oh no,” complained the other girl, though she never peeled herself away from Yoko. “You’re gonna do that meddling thing again, right?”

“Hey, it’s not meddling if it’s a sure thing,” Yoko defended and pressed a kiss to Divina’s head. “That’s called fate. I’m just helping it along.”

“You were wrong about Enid and Ajax,” she reminded, snuggling into Yoko’s coolness. “That went to shit pretty quick.”

“That’s not my fault! He shouldn’t have turned himself to stone the night of the date! He let me down!” Yoko exclaimed. She relaxed and brought Divina close to her. “Besides, that was clearly for a reason.” 

“Babe, please don’t do this,” Divina murmured, turning her face into the vampire’s chest. “Don’t ruin what they have.”

Pondering and humming to herself, Yoko rested her head atop Divina’s and contentedly watched Enid pull Wednesday into the bakery down the street. She felt Divina tense in her embrace, but she didn’t allow her to escape her arms. 

“It’s a sure thing,” she repeated. “I know it. Just let me do my thing, okay?”

Cool siren eyes met Yoko’s sunglasses. Divina frowned at her partner. 

“Fine, but if Enid ends up heartbroken and sleeping between us for the next month, you get to deal with her,” she said. “It was terrible the first time you screwed up.” 

Behind her protective lenses, Yoko winked. Divina sighed and shook her head before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the bakery, only to make sure Wednesday didn’t harm Enid for offering her a croissant.

—

Wednesday suffered through pleasurable period cramps the next evening, as she attempted to work on the latest chapter of her novel. Thing sat next to her and scuttled around her desk, like he was doing some sort of dance to the pop song Enid was playing from her laptop. 

Her writing hour was drawing to a close and she had yet to write anything coherent. Whatever song was playing behind her sounded like a cat being tortured and neutered without anesthesia, though Enid seemed to have enjoyed it as she cooked up a new post for her blog. 

“Enid, would you please turn that down if you won’t turn it off?” Wednesday complained and rested her head in her hands. “It’s causing me to make typos and plot holes. If you know anything about me, you would know that’s unacceptable.” 

Enid looked up from her laptop, her lips moving to form a sad frown. Wednesday quickly turned away from her, growing agitated by Enid’s resistance to her request. Enid never took into account that, maybe, the music she indulged in was not universally enjoyed. 

“I’ll turn it down,” Enid finally agreed, begrudgingly. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

The music crescendoed down into almost nothing, and Wednesday relaxed into the quiet comfort of the evening, now able to shift her focus onto her paper rather than whatever Enid was doing behind her. 

The werewolf had been infuriatingly touchy all afternoon, and all Wednesday desired was one hour to herself without anything pink or glittery or upbeat; anything that reminded her of Enid’s presence. Their shared space compromised that request, but she had been managing it quite well, until she had sat down to write. 

A few sentences seemed to have typed themselves onto the page, until Enid began to nervously tap a pencil against her desk, at which point Wednesday’s palm slammed into the wood of her own desk. Thing startled and scurried away, taking refuge under Wednesday’s bed, and Enid quickly dropped her pencil. 

“Enid Sinclair,” Wednesday snarled through clenched teeth. “You know and understand how important my hour is to me. You have done nothing but play loud music, sigh to yourself in discontent, and tap things against your desk. I’ve begun to assume that you do these things with intent to annoy me into providing you with attention.” 

Slighted, Enid’s jaw slid open. She turned away from her ongoing task of typing up her blog post, moving to face Wednesday, who stood warily on her side of the room as she rose from her seat and stared directly into Enid’s forehead. She never met her eyes, too concerned with giving into the glassy baby blues that had irrevocably found their own home inside her heart. 

“That’s not what I’m doing, but if that’s what you think, then whatever,” Enid snapped. “I didn’t realize that I was irritating you so much.”

“You know I spend an hour each day dedicated to my novel, and you inconveniently chose to do those things just as I am trying to work,” Wednesday argued back, folding her arms over her chest. “Now my hour is up and I’ve gotten nothing done.” 

“I didn’t mean to distract you,” replied the werewolf, becoming sore under that burnt, blazing gaze her roommate gave her whenever she was upset. “I wasn’t even thinking. I’m sorry, okay?”

Enid had been apologizing quite a bit lately; for tapping pencils, waking Wednesday with her intermittent growls in the middle of the night, not killing that monster when she had the chance. 

This was nothing different. If anything, it comforted her to know that their routine of irritation and apologies was still in cycle, never to be changed. Routine was safe for Wednesday, but Enid was also coming to an understanding that what they had—whatever it could be considered—was starting to drift away from that continuous rinse-and-repeat cycle of wake, irritate, apologize, sleep. 

“I forgive your annoying habits,” Wednesday finally declared as she dropped her arms. “However, I’m feeling a bit stuffy in this room. I’m going to take a brief walk.”

“It’s late,” Enid fussed, glancing at her phone. “It’s not safe to wander the woods by yourself this late at night. We aren’t that far from the Appalachian Trail.” 

“I’m quite fond of mysterious creatures and deadly organisms that reside on that trail,” Wednesday said as she slipped into her shoes and leaned down to tie them. “I’ll only be awhile. I promise to come back soon.”

“You can’t go,” Enid insisted, receiving nothing but a passive shrug in response. “Wednesday!”

A warm hand grasped onto Wednesday’s bony shoulder. She was quick to react to the intrusion, stumbling backwards a few steps with her palms facing out in surrender. She almost curled into herself and flinched, but she saved herself that humiliation by pressing herself into a wall. 

“Don’t. . .” she firmly trailed off, licking her lower lip. “Don’t do that, Enid.”

Enid pulled her sweater tighter over her shoulders and cinched it in the middle of her abdomen. She hadn’t meant to elicit such a strong reaction from Wednesday, and it was made abundantly clear that she’d struck some sort of nerve. 

“Do what?” she finally dared to ask. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. . .you didn’t hurt me, Enid,” she assured with uncertainty. 

The ghost of Enid’s hand warmed over her skin. It was soft, sweet, and indelible. When Tyler had touched her, it was strong and affirmative, and when his Hyde tried to end her life, it was terrifying and mortifyingly painful. Enid was not like that; she was always kindhearted and soft to the touch. She had never considered laying a harmful hand on Wednesday, even when Wednesday, admittedly, may have deserved it. 

“I’m going to take my walk now,” said Wednesday, removing herself from the wall. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

An expectant pause loomed over them. Suddenly, Enid lifted her pinkie to Wednesday. Although she had her reserves about physical touch, Wednesday found herself wrapping her pinkie around Enid’s and squeezing it the way Enid squeezed her when she, bloody and red, threw herself around her that night.

“I promise,” Wednesday completed, shrugging on her hoodie. 

When Wednesday left the room, Enid sat at the edge of her bed and sobbed.

—

Yoko

Wednesday’s nighttime walk didn’t take her very far; not beyond Ophelia Hall’s staircase. Instead, she took the stairway that would lead her up to the roof and found the hatch to be open and inviting for her. She took a moment to consider who would have snuck out so late. The Nightshades frequently took up the roof as their secluded hangout spot, and Wednesday would have withdrawn herself from what could be witnessing a potential complaint to the school board, but she felt mildly curious and far too lonely. 

She used the ledge as leverage to pull herself off the stairs and onto the roof. The air was cool and slightly wet from the rain that had just passed a few hours prior. She fondly inhaled the dewy, earthy scent before standing up and opening her eyes to a bright night sky littered with stars and constellations. 

The roof was nothing special. It was only a large, square blacktop that  stretched quite far beyond what Wednesday could see. Evidence of the Nightshades’ presence took the form of empty Doritos bags and glass beer bottles blowing across the asphalt. Wednesday grunted to herself in disgust as she kicked an empty Corona bottle across the concrete. It hit a ledge and shattered into several pieces. 

“Whoever is there, I’ll kill you!” a voice called from the faraway distance. It seemed feminine and gravelly, as if the person had been sobbing their eyes out. 

A burnt, ashy smell drew Wednesday to the edge of the roof. She wasn’t afraid of a measly threat to her life. If anything, she welcomed it as a compliment. She wasn’t going to allow someone to threaten to murder her and not take up the opportunity to meet them. She could have used a friend who wasn’t Enid, anyway. Perhaps the smell of cigarette smoke was luring her to a friendship that wasn’t based around traumatic experiences. 

“I said, I will kill you!” 

Wednesday emerged from out of the shadows. There was a large flood light fixed into the roof that lit up most of the nearby asphalt. It was seemingly to scare away intruders, an effort installed to prevent another incident from happening, but it provided Wednesday enough light to decipher the silhouette of a girl sitting at the edge of the roof. 

The girl’s hair, purple streaks woven in between strands of black, was long and drew to the center of her back. She wore red and black clothing, and a tattooed hand lifted a fresh cigarette to her lips. 

“You can try, but it would be quite a fight,” Wednesday said as she neared. 

“Of fucking course,” Yoko muttered and flicked ash off the end of her cigarette. “It would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Wednesday’s shadow casted over Yoko in the artificial lighting. The vampire made a discontented noise before moving to sit with her legs hanging over the ledge, only an inch from toppling over. 

“You’re blocking my light,” she told Wednesday, patting the empty space next to her. “Sit or get the fuck out.” 

The invitation seemed all too preposterous. Wednesday and Yoko were not friends; acquaintances, perhaps, but friends? That was one thing they were not. 

“If you’d like to be alone, just say so,” Wednesday said. “Believe it or not, I do know when my presence is not wanted.”

Yoko looked up at her with her cigarette hanging from her lips. She wasn’t wearing her sunglasses, with them being rendered useless under the moonlight, and for the first time, Wednesday caught a glimpse of her eyes. Her irises were a blood red, but it wasn’t terrifying the way vampires’ eyes were described in fiction. Of course, nothing was accurately described in fiction. 

“Just sit down, shit,” Yoko swore. 

Cautiously sinking onto the cold ledge, Wednesday took a sideways glance at the vampire, who was quickly wiping at her face with the hand not cradling her cigarette. 

“I don’t know why I feel so surprised that you smoke cigarettes,” Wednesday said in a vain attempt at starting a conversation so she wouldn’t have to sit there and suffer in silence. “I always thought marijuana was more of your personality trait.”

Yoko dryly laughed and flicked more ash over the edge. 

“Who said it isn’t?” 

“Divina would have a coronary if she found out you’ve been smoking cigarettes,” Wednesday replied. 

The flame began to die out at the end of the cigarette. Yoko relit it with her lighter and softly sighed as the smoke filled her lungs. 

“She knows, smart-ass,” snapped Yoko, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from Wednesday’s face. “We all smoke when we come up here. The Nightshades, I mean.”

“I’ve never smoked one,” the seer said, swinging her legs over the ledge. “My father smokes cigars. He plans to give my brother his own humidor on his 16th birthday. I, however, declined that offer.” 

Without turning her head, Yoko gave her an incredulous look before returning to smoking her cigarette. She leaned forward and took in the view of what was below; trees, bushes, and a stone walkway she craved to hit and split her own head open on. 

“Finish this one off for me, then,” she finally said, taking the cigarette from between her lips and passing it to Wednesday. “I’m gonna light another. Last in the pack.” 

Wednesday blinked at the scorched flame at the end of the paper. She mimicked Yoko’s actions, and tapped the side so a piece of ash fell off. It sank into the flesh of her exposed knee, and she sighed either in pleasure or annoyance.

“Don’t burn yourself,” Yoko quipped. “Enid is right to chase after you. You get hurt left and fuckin’ right.” 

“It doesn’t hurt the way you would assume it would,” Wednesday stated with passive intention.

Yoko snorted a laugh and settled a cigarette between her lips. She lit the end and pocketed her lighter while Wednesday, intrigued, studied the half-burnt cigarette in her hand. She took a brief, testing sniff. It almost smelled slightly minty and cool, like that strange green ice cream Enid loved to get from the cafeteria on Fridays. 

“It smells like a breath mint,” she told Yoko. 

“It’s a menthol light,” Yoko replied, inhaling and exhaling. Wednesday paused in confusion, prompting Yoko to throw her head back and heavily sigh. “Oh, fuck’s sake. Just smoke it.” 

Wednesday placed the wet end of the cigarette between her lips. The paper was soggy from Yoko’s leftover saliva, and there was a burnt taste of beer at the end of it. It smelled exactly like Yoko, and that almost made Wednesday retch, but she took it well, leaving the cigarette where it lay. 

After a minute, Yoko suddenly burst into laughter. She plucked her own cigarette from her mouth and nudged Wednesday’s shoulder. 

“Are you gonna inhale or no?” she asked through a giggle. “Why are you just leaving it there?”

Removing her cigarette, Wednesday frowned at Yoko. 

“I have never smoked one before, as I told you,” she pitifully reminded, flicking the ash again. 

“Finally, something you don’t know how to do,” Yoko sighed, turning to face her. “Okay, put it back in your mouth and close your lips around it.”

Though not the most obedient person, Wednesday followed directions and sealed her lips around the cigarette, holding it between two fingers as Yoko did. Yoko nodded in encouragement. 

“Now take a deep inhale, hold, and exhale,” the vampire instructed. 

Smoke filled Wednesday’s lungs and positively burned her throat on the way into her body. She had smelled smoke before, from her father’s lungs, but having it fill her own to the brim felt subtly alluring. 

“Tastes like a cool mint, but kinda burnt, ya know?” Yoko said, showing her fangs to Wednesday in a smile. “They’re my favorite. Divina prefers the Marlboro golds, but I like these because they’re lighter on the tastebuds but still toxic enough.” 

“This is one of the worst substances to put in your body,” Wednesday replied and licked the tobacco from her lips. “I quite enjoy it.”

“Yeah, Divina freaked the fuck out when she saw me smoking for the first time,” Yoko fondly sighed and took another long inhale. “I had to remind her that I am dead.” 

Wednesday had, honestly, failed to remember that simple fact about vampires. She didn’t interact with many people around Jericho, much less the vampires who only wanted a good drink of pure blood and to hide under the moonlight. 

“I sometimes forget that you are not alive in a technical sense of the word,” Wednesday said. “I suppose I’m used to those of the mortal variety.”

Yoko scoffed over her cigarette. A puff of smoke blew into Wednesday’s face and warmed over her. 

“You know how vampires work, right?” she asked the sulking seer, who had settled the cigarette in her mouth again. “Like, there’s two types, ya know?”

“I, admittedly, didn’t know there are two types,” Wednesday said with a shake of her head. “I was always under the impression that you all are created in the same way that Bram Stoker’s Dracula was created.”

Exhaling, Yoko looked at Wednesday with a glance that almost called her an idiot. Those red eyes became judgmental and scrutinizing, narrowing at her.

“That’s only partially true,” said Yoko. “There are those that are born, and those that are made. Born vampires are just that; someone born as a vampire, as a reproduction of two vampires. They are technically alive. They have heartbeats and age. Their lifespan is that of a human’s. The only thing that sets them apart is their need for blood and natural insomnia. Of course, they do need to sleep more frequently than the undead, but they can still go long stretches without.”

Wednesday hesitantly nodded before daring to ask over her cigarette, “And the ones who are made?”

There was an uncomfortable quietness. The flame scorched the paper with a sizzle as Yoko breathed in deep. When she let it go, Wednesday let it in again. 

“The ones who are made are, ironically, a dying breed,” she said. “They suffered some sort of illness or misfortune that caused them to be bitten and  turned. They are immortal and have no heartbeat. You won’t see much of the undead around here; most immortals grow sick of this place after a decade and move on. Plus, turning people is pretty archaic nowadays. Modern medicine has stopped people from dropping like flies, and I think that most also would opt to just die than live forever.” 

With a once-over of the trembling vampire, Wednesday paused. She wasn’t the most aware of body language, nor did she take subtle hints, but she understood, judging by the way Yoko tensed, that this was uncomfortable.

“And what are you?” she finally asked. 

Yoko flicked the ash and turned away from Wednesday with a dissatisfied noise. 

“I was made,” she told her, staring at the skyline with such longing in her eyes. “A long time ago. I don’t talk about it, because I regret my decision to let my family turn me. I’ve been here for ages. I know you suck at technology, but if you’ve ever heard Enid watching TikTok and heard that one sound that goes, I’ve been here 60 years and I’m still not bored. Well, that is an absolute load of shit.” 

Wednesday frequently pushed herself to attempt to listen to Enid’s interests, but she hadn’t ever heard that emit from Enid’s phone or laptop. She assumed that didn’t matter much in this context, anyway.

“I am very bored,” Yoko continued. “I love Divina to death—yeah, funny, I know—but it’s like, I’ve been here before. It’s like deja vu, but I cannot wake up from it. I relive the same day, over and over, and the only things that change are the people around me and technology. Having to get with the times every twenty years while never maturing or evolving like everyone else is so tiring.”

Wednesday sat with that and soaked it up as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. Yoko had always been avoidant of talk surrounding her family and history with Nevermore. Although the pair weren’t quite yet friends or enemies, they could sit in each other’s presence without hateful stares or snide remarks towards one another. If nothing else, Wednesday was content with Yoko far more than she was with anyone else who wasn’t Enid or Eugene. 

“How long have you been at Nevermore?” she asked quietly. 

Sniffling as if she were about to cry, Yoko plucked her cigarette from her lips. “Lucky number 13.” 

“13 years?” Wednesday raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah. You were barely learning to talk when I first got here,” said Yoko. “Think about that.”

“I learned to speak at a year old, actually,” she replied with a shrug. “But still, that is quite a long time to stay in one place. I’m going to assume that there is no limit to how long you can attend.”

“Nevermore wants money. My dad pays my tuition and slips them a check for other stuff every so often, and that keeps me here. As long as the school board is seeing that tuition every semester, no one cares how long the undead stay,” the vampire said, slightly scoffing as she inhaled around her cigarette. “Most of us leave at some point. I’m still here.”

“And you’ve not considered leaving or returning to your father?” Wednesday asked. The idea of never seeing her parents again and living within Nevermore’s walls for an indefinite amount of time seemed horrifically agonizing. “I’m sure he misses you.” 

“He’s a Nevermore alum. He stayed here for about six years, then one year, he met my mom and they decided that it was best for him to leave and set out to get married and start a family,” Yoko said. “Well, they only had me, their weird little experiment baby. My mom was human; a normie. They didn’t know if I would be born human or a vampire, because humans and vampires really never reproduce together. I was born with a heartbeat and aged, though it was undecided how much human to vampire ratio I was, until I decided to be turned. My dad sent me here because I always got into some trouble; you know, permanently 16 and getting into shit. The final straw was when I had been drinking with some normies that I met outside the high school and he found me blackout drunk on the front porch, covered in my own vomit.”

She laughed, but only sadly, then glanced at Wednesday. Her smile was replaced with her cigarette. 

“He misses me, but he knows I’m safe here,” she continued. “It sucks, ‘cause I should be home with him. He gets pretty lonely now that my mom is gone. My cousins visit him to keep him company, but it’s not the same as having your own kid around. You know?”

Morose, Wednesday nodded. Her cigarette was still smoldering and brightly light, though it was nearly a nub. 

“When did your mother die?” she finally asked, even if it felt uncalled for. “I’m going to assume that was long ago.”

“It was,” Yoko confirmed and flicked more ash. “1977. Dementia really hurt her. Suffered two years before she went.”

Wednesday paused. Uncle Fester once dated a woman named Dementia. Of course, that was when Wednesday was still so little, and the pair never worked out though they split on amicable terms. She wondered what it would have been like to have an Aunt Dementia. 

“You know what’s worse than death itself?” Yoko rhetorically asked into the air. “Watching everyone else live and age and grow while you sit here and wait for the literal end of the world. People come in and out of your life faster than a train station. The world changes around you and you remain unmoving.”

Wednesday hummed with sympathy. She rarely ever felt pity for anyone, because most didn’t deserve it, but Yoko seemed genuine in her agony but wore it with such pride. She didn’t tell Wednesday to garner any sympathy or draw forth rounded, pitiful eyes; she told her because, someway and somehow, she found that she could trust Wednesday with that piece of her heart. Yet, the soft sigh and slight nudge to Yoko’s shoulder was welcomed, even if pity were out of the equation. 

“Wanna know a fun fact?” Yoko asked Wednesday. 

“I have a feeling that it’s not going to be that fun, but sure,” replied the other girl, cigarette between two fingers. 

“If the sun exploded, it would take eight minutes for anyone on earth to become aware, but by then we’d all be vaporized,” Yoko said. “They say it’s gonna be painless. Like, I could be chilling in the quad, having my coffee, and then all of a sudden—BAM!—I’m mist.” 

Enid had once asked Wednesday if that little fact were at all true, and Wednesday had to regrettably tell her that it was very much plausible, if not entirely true. The werewolf spent that night in worry, thinking the sun would eat her alive, but Yoko seemed to find it exciting, as if she were looking forward to it.

“And ya know what I hate, Wednesday?” Yoko asked, growing quiet. Wednesday gave her space to answer herself. “I hate that I’m gonna be the only one of us—you, Divina, Enid, everyone—who will remember anything about you centuries after you’re gone. Your future generations and your bloodline will eventually fade and your face and memories will stop being a topic of conversation. Pictures of you will disintegrate or get locked in an attic, your name will no longer be parts of stories, and everything you’ve worked for in your lifetime will be nothing. But I will know. I will remember.”

Wednesday thought of Goody. She hadn’t known anything about her before arriving at Nevermore, and if it weren’t for her desire to unlock hidden secrets and exhume the worst parts of society, she would have never known her. 

“My family still speaks of relatives we lost a century ago,” Wednesday said with a shrug. 

Yoko’s voice was tight and watery. “A century is nothing when you think about the end of the world. Civilization is gonna die out and all that will be left are the roaches and spiders and. . .me. I’ll have no one to talk to. No one to be around. I’ll be all alone.”

“Your father,” Wednesday attempted to rectify as she saw that Yoko’s cheeks were wet. “He is immortal, right? He will be with you.”

“No he won’t,” Yoko sniffled. “He told me he will push through this century, and then he’ll be gone. Like Dracula, all it takes is something sharp and pointy to the heart.” 

Wednesday had deduced awhile ago that vampires were only immortal in the sense that they could not age or get sick. To take their own life, as many elected to do after half a millennium, was always an option. 

“I’m gonna be alone, Wednesday.” Yoko was sobbing and trembling. “What am I gonna do when the second ice age comes? I can’t fuckin’ hunt and gather and fight Sid the sloth for a melon!” 

Dark eyes clouded with confusion. Wednesday inched a bit closer and flicked the last bit of ash from her cigarette. 

“I don’t know who Sid is, but I’m sure that there will be a deadly natural disaster before then that will inevitably wipe out even the roaches and spiders and you,” Wednesday attempted to soothe. “The sun can’t live forever, and there are millions of asteroids out there. Perhaps one will crash right into you. You could be having a nice day and suddenly you are dust crushed beneath a billion-pound mass of space debris.” 

Something like a half-sob, half-laugh left Yoko’s nicotine stained lips. She licked them and messily wiped her nose on her sleeve. 

“You’re terrible at comforting people,” Yoko softly laughed. “But it’s nice. I love both Divina and Enid, but holy shit, their comfort is just babying me and coddling my precious little feelings with empty promises. At least you’re being real with me.” 

“I see no point in being facetious,” Wednesday remarked and inhaled what was left of her cigarette. “We will all perish while you sit and wait, unless you would prefer to take your father’s route. A bleak thought, yes, but very reasonable.”

“You think?” Yoko asked, very meek in stark contrast to her usual personality. “Divina doesn’t want me to do that.”

“Divina will be dead by then,” Wednesday bluntly pointed out. “She will have no say.” 

The tears that had been accumulating around Yoko’s eyelids spilled over the edge and then the vampire was hunched over and sobbing, smoke still blazing from the tip of her cigarette. 

Wednesday extinguished her cigarette on the ledge and flicked the burnt nub over the edge as she scooted away. She squirmed a bit more with each heavy sob Yoko let out. 

“Please gather yourself, Yoko,” she coldly stated. “Your display of emotion is making me quite squeamish.” 

Sputtering out a breath, Yoko lifted her cigarette to her lips and inhaled, pacifying herself for a second. As the exhale left her lips, a sob trailed off at the end and died as quickly as the smoke did. 

“All my friends are dead!” Yoko sobbed and sloppily wiped at her cheeks. “They’re all dead! And you’re gonna be dead! And Divina is gonna be dead! Hell, you were all almost dead!”

Though Yoko was a blubbering mess and reduced to tears, Wednesday had to admire the facade stripping itself away from Yoko’s typically stone-cold demeanor. Wednesday’s facade was something so important to her that she could not bear to let the mask slip, and she regretted how crooked it was the night of the blood moon.

“Yoko, I really have nothing to say to make you feel any better,” Wednesday whispered. She became nauseas as Yoko’s cries only increased in volume. “Yoko, please. Not here. Save this for your room.”

As she wiped the residual tears from her face, Yoko sniffled and extinguished her cigarette. She flicked it over the edge, just as Wednesday had, and slumped her shoulders. Her sobs died out into quiet cries and then into silence, leaving her body trembling with the aftershocks. 

“You’re not half bad for a cold-hearted bitch, Addams,” Yoko said and pocketed her lighter that was teetering out. “You suck at feelings and emotions, but you’re pretty cool to have around. Enid is so lucky.”

Wednesday hesitated and anxiously swung her legs over the ledge. If she leaned forward a little, she could see the stone walkway that would split her skull in two if she were to fall. For a moment, she contemplated it, but then she sat back with discomfort and looked at Yoko. 

“Enid? Lucky?” she asked Yoko. “Why do you say that?”

“Because she likes you, Wednesday,” said Yoko with blatant disregard for the confusion on the seer’s face. “She never shuts the fuck up about you. You’re, like, god or some shit to her.” 

A betraying warmth took residence in Wednesday’s stomach. She and Enid were just that; she and Enid. They were their own person and had their own interests and special things—Enid and her blog, Wednesday and her novel. They were not to be merged or compared to one another.

“I know she takes kindly to me and that she is obsessively clingy with people she likes,” she told Yoko. “Perhaps she is only being nice. It disgusts me.”

“No, this goes beyond basic pleasantries,” the vampire laughed, this time genuinely. “She really likes you. She’s so lucky to have you around, because even if you’re a morose bitch, she takes so well to you and feels safe with you.”

“I think that should be the other way around,” Wednesday bitterly muttered. “I would be dead today if it weren’t for her inner wolf.”

Yoko shook her head and nudged Wednesday’s shoulder. 

“She feels safe with you, not because you can murder someone, but because you are loyal,” Yoko attempted to reason with a wistful smile. “Enid annoyed you and you manipulated her to get what you wanted, but at the end of the day, you would die for her. It doesn’t matter that she’s annoying or full of life, or that you kinda used your friendship to get what you wanted. She’s your bitch to the end of the earth.” 

Quiet, Wednesday was forced to sit and ruminate. She thought of the night Enid packed her things and yelled at her for essentially being a selfish person, and then she thought of that monster pinning her against the tree and a pinkish wolf coming to her rescue despite all that had been done. She regrettably came to the conclusion that Enid was not going to leave her so easily. And what was more terrifying than that was the fact that Wednesday had no desire to leave her, either.

“I have to get back to my room,” Wednesday finally said as she glanced at her watch. “I promised Enid half an hour.”

“Go on,” Yoko said as she waved a careless hand at her. “Go see your girl.”

“She is not my anything, Yoko,” Wednesday grumbled at her as she pushed herself up. “You’ve not a fine idea of what you are talking about.”

“Sure,” she replied with a smile full of fangs, then tilted her head, as if intaking all of Wednesday. “You’re not so bad, Wednesday.”

Hesitating near the ledge, Wednesday nodded once at her. 

“The feeling is incredibly mutual,” she declared with certainty. “Thank you for the cigarette, Yoko.”

—

Wednesday could not help but to take notice of Enid’s shadow around every corner she turned. Every time she turned her head to glance at what she thought was her werewolf roommate, she was left pondering with the scent of fruity perfume in her nose. 

The weekend was drawing near again, which meant that Wednesday had to reorganize her daily scheduled activities to accommodate for something stimulating and educational. She decided on an afternoon of archery followed by a quiet walk in the woods to collect new bugs to study in the Hummers shed. 

She was drawing a figurative map of her Saturday plans as she entered her and Enid’s dorm after her last class. Enid was scheduled to attend her dance class, according to the intricate itinerary Wednesday had drawn up for both of them and proudly displayed on the wall, but she was sitting at her desk and typing away at her laptop. Wednesday noticed that she had changed into casual clothes rather than the very revealing and form-fitting outfit she wore to dance.

“You are not supposed to be here,” Wednesday greeted her and dropped her backpack on the floor. Thing immediately scuttled away and climbed up on Enid’s bed. “You are scheduled for dance class. It says so on our itinerary.”

Enid turned around in her chair and beamed at Wednesday. 

“Oh, hi! Yeah, dance class got cancelled. Half of the girls and a couple boys got hit with food poisoning,” Enid chattered away, as if she were excited by the idea. “I told them not to eat that undercooked chicken. It looked bloody.”

“Fascinating,” Wednesday grated. “You seem very chipper today. I thought you would be disappointed that your class was cancelled.” 

“I was pretty sad about it, because I have something new I wanted to show them, but then Divina invited me to go swimming with her and Yoko tomorrow night,” she said with a shrug. “I feel better now.” 

“Tomorrow night?” Wednesday asked, eyes shifting to the itinerary. “You have theatre and photography after school tomorrow, followed by dinner, which you’ll already be late for because you’re meeting with Yoko to help her with her essay. Are you sure you’ll be able to squeeze everything in?” 

“Wednesday, I know schedules are super important to you, but it’s fine,” Enid assured with a smile. “I’ll just eat really quick, come back here to change into my swimsuit, and meet them at the lake by eight. Bianca might decide to join, if she can get her homework done in time.”

Wednesday remained unmoving, still staring at her meticulous itinerary; her perfectly useless and good-as-dead itinerary. If Enid weren’t going to abide by it, why did she spend so long creating it?

“What time will you return?” she asked Enid. “I’d like to know if I should wait up for you.”

“Lights out,” replied Enid. “I don’t wanna get caught. It’s just a quick swim. Of course, I’m gonna be third-wheeling again, but at least I’ll be in the company of people I know.”

“Is it really third-wheeling if Bianca decides to show?” Wednesday asked. “I assume that would balance things out, as you said before. You know, a partner to balance it out.”

Enid paused in thought. She shrugged at Wednesday, and then her pink lips upturned into a smile. She clenched her hands the way she always did when the excitement crept onto her. Wednesday sucked in a breath and waited.

“I know! You should come with me!” the werewolf exclaimed as she jumped out of her chair. “It’ll be so fun! Even if Bianca shows up, we can make it a little party!” 

There were a multitude of things that Wednesday would have rather done than accompany Enid to a social event at the nearby lake; sticking pins in her eyes, slicing off her index finger with a rusty knife, and swallowing a nail all came to mind. Though she wanted to retract in disgust, she found it difficult to tell Enid no when she was purposely rounding her eyes and pouting at her.

“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I will have to decline,” she inevitably told Enid, who deflated. “I don’t think the others would be appreciative of you inviting me without consent.”

Enid blew a raspberry and waved Wednesday off. “Please, they invite whoever they want all the time and no one complains. It’ll be fun. You have a swimsuit, right?”

Wednesday had packed her only swimsuit before she left New Jersey, but only because her mother had been insistent that she may have been roped into an activity or situation where she would need one. Of course, she didn’t want to tell Enid that, but her tongue betrayed her. 

“I do,” she said with haste. “In my trunk.”

“Oh, perfect!” Enid threw her hands in the air. “Please come with me. If Bianca doesn’t show up, I’m for sure gonna be third-wheeling them. It gets super awkward watching them make out while they’re skinny-dipping.”

Squirming with discomfort, Wednesday gave Enid a sideways glance. 

“I don’t feel comfortable being in close proximity with naked people,” she told Enid, swallowing. “The human body is nothing to be ashamed of, but I would prefer to not be surrounded by nude people.”

“No worries,” the werewolf confidently assured as her pointer finger tapped Wednesday’s button nose without a second thought. “I’ll make sure they’re covered in the right places. They bring swimsuits, just in case some peepers come around. I’ll just tell them to keep them on this time. It’s totally fine.”

Wednesday recoiled. “I think I will be fine here. I will wait up and leave the light on for you.”

“This isn’t Motel 6,” Enid laughed, then became quite serious. “But really. Will you join me? You don’t even have to swim. Just hang out with us. You’re only a teenager once. Have fun!”

Wednesday would have been fibbing to herself if she said that she hadn’t felt as though she were wasting away her own teenage years. Her hobbies were far different than anyone else she knew and she didn’t find amusement in any of the typical activities her peers, namely Enid, engaged in on the regular. She considered taxidermy and researching bugs to be fun pastimes, but she was frequently outcasted among the other outcasts because of her wayward personality and reputation for hurting everything she touched. 

She was too deadly, and that stripped her of any opportunity to fit in with the others. Maybe she didn’t want to fit in. Maybe she was comfortable as an outsider inside this large campus full of outsiders.

But Enid was offering her an open invitation on a silver platter. She could blend in with the others, for just one evening, and return to her solitude and absurd hobbies as if nothing ever happened. Pugsley would call that “the best of both worlds.” 

There was very little cost in the offer. Wednesday hardly had anything to lose. Most of Nevermore viewed her as some sort of saint who’d been casted upon them to save their kind, and beyond that, most feared her enough to leave her alone. Bullying was not something she took lightly. Even if anyone of importance on the social hierarchy discovered her with her guard down, there was little room for anyone to harm her. 

With that in mind, Wednesday took in a breath and looked up at Enid.

“I will go to the lake with you,” she begrudgingly agreed. “On the condition that I can leave without pestering if I become uncomfortable.” 

“Of course!” Enid exclaimed, shaking her hands. “Oh, this is gonna be so fun! I’ve gotta tell the girls!”

Enid rushed to grab her phone, but not before she landed a quick kiss to Wednesday’s cold cheek as she flew past her. If Enid noticed what she’d done after the fact, she made no obvious signs of it. But Wednesday, standing still in the middle of their room, pressed two fingers to her wet cheek and pondered why it made her feel so warm. 

—

Bianca  

Distant shrieks and laughter drew Wednesday and Enid towards the lake on Friday night. It was five past eight and the full moon was inching further into the sky as the sun had already completely set. The temperature already began to drop significantly, taking the warm afternoon air and replacing it with a nice 50-degree evening chill. Vermont was never warm enough to warrant a real “beach day,” but most of the outcasts had some sort of special power that prevented them from feeling too much of the cold. 

Wednesday appreciated, if nothing else, how cold it was. When she and Enid stood at the edge of the lake and Enid animatedly waved at her friends like she were being electrocuted, Wednesday took in the sight of Yoko wading in the shallow end and Divina happily splashing her tail at the far end of the lake, under a large oak tree overgrown with moss. They were both, thankfully, clothed and their most vulnerable body parts were concealed by bikini tops and bottoms—well, Yoko wore bottoms and Divina wore her tail. 

“About time,” Yoko chided with a smile. “Hurry up.”

Enid clutched the hem of her 49ers t-shirt she borrowed from her older brother and lifted it over her head to expose a neon pink bikini that could blind someone from across the US-Canadian border. Wednesday made a point not to stare or even glance in the werewolf’s direction. 

“Come in, Wednesday!” Enid called. “It’s warm!”

“I am fine,” she replied, though she was beginning to feel a little cold. “I’ll just watch.”

Yoko gave Enid a crooked look before smothering a laugh with her hand. Divina, curious about why her girlfriend was suddenly so giggly, swam over to the pair in the water and met Wednesday’s dark brown eyes that only seemed darker under the moonlight. 

“Are you gonna get in?” Divina asked her. She wasn’t pressuring, only gently asking. Wednesday owed her some gratitude for that. “You’re gonna freeze.” 

“I’m okay right here,” she assured the siren. “I enjoy the cold.” 

With a pink smile, Divina turned onto her stomach and floated away. Her tail splashed some water over Yoko, who splashed her back, and then they were both splashing each other while Enid continued to make herself at home. 

Wednesday shuffled on her feet, pulling at her own hoodie that hung over most of her body so no one could see her black one-piece swimsuit. Enid was already sinking into the water, allowing it to pool up to her knees, while Wednesday lingered off to the side in hopes no one would ask her any more questions that could potentially lead her to doing something she might enjoy.

“Is Bianca coming?” Enid asked Yoko as she waded further into the water. 

Yoko, on the tail end of a giggle as Divina swam away to the deep end, turned to Enid and shrugged. 

“Bianca is here,” a voice said from behind Wednesday. 

Two heads lifted in the water, a tail splashed, and Wednesday swiveled around. Bianca emerged from the shadows, completely bare-faced and her amulet shimmering under a sliver of moonlit silhouette. She had a towel thrown over her shoulder and a bag in her hand. Wednesday assumed it contained the change of clothes she lacked to put on before leaving her dorm. How she managed to inch past the faculty in nothing but a sunflower yellow bikini was beyond Wednesday. 

“Nice to see you’ve joined us, Addams,” Bianca said, though she seemed quite genuine. “Never thought I’d see you out here.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Wednesday deadpanned, skipping all pleasantries.

It wasn’t that she disliked Bianca. If anything, it was quite the opposite. She tolerated Bianca beyond most measures she treated others with, and she could even consider her as half of a friend. Bianca had always been a painful thorn in her side, but Wednesday found pleasure in pain, so she deduced that keeping her around wasn’t as sore as she thought. 

“Joining us?” Bianca asked, dropping her towel and bag. “I’d take the hoodie off. You’ll sink.”

“Perhaps I’ll join a little later,” Wednesday said. “You can go on.” 

Shrugging, Bianca submerged herself to her waistline until the glimmer of her tail appeared in a spark. The water warmed her cold skin and she basked it all in, over her shoulders and down her back. Divina materialized from the deep end and tugged excitedly at Bianca’s arm. The two sirens, both now in complete siren form, whispered to one another before giggling and floating away, leaving Enid and Yoko talking amongst themselves. 

Yoko’s eyes lifted from Enid and up to Wednesday. “Hey, shortie. Are you getting in or not? ‘Cause we’re gonna go out to the deep end. There’s a rope swing down that way. You can follow or stay up there.”

The vampire was pointing to her left. The rope swing in question must have been far away, because Wednesday couldn’t make anything out in that general direction. 

“Don’t let me stop you,” she told Yoko and Enid. “I will do things on my time.”

With a simple shrug, Yoko leaned over and began to dog-paddle herself away. Enid licked her lips and looked between Wednesday and the girl splashing her as she swam towards the deep end. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna get in?” Enid quietly asked. “I promise nothing will bite you.”

“I might enjoy it more if it did,” said Wednesday, avoiding any eye contact. “Really, Enid, I’m fine. Go be with your friends. Remember that I am a wounded fawn who will only withhold you from your scheduled activities.” 

“Stop saying that.” Enid’s voice was stern and unwavering. “You are not a wounded fawn and you cannot slow me down. But if you really wanna stay up there, that’s okay, too. You know where I’ll be if you need me.” 

Wednesday’s jaw set. “I won’t need you.”

“Well, if you want me.” 

The air was sucked from Wednesday’s lungs. She became a bit flustered, stumbling over a few words that would have made no sense if she had said them. 

By the time she came to and went to say something logical, Enid was gone, already halfway down the lake. She made note of Divina blindly following Enid and Yoko through the current that was pulling them towards the deep end, only her tail visible from this view. 

The moment she thought she was alone and could take a moment to breathe without blue eyes and pink-tipped hair suffocating her, she was startled by two bright siren eyes searing a hole into her forehead.

“No pressure, but I think you’d be grateful if you got in,” Bianca told her. “I know you like the cold, but it’s not gonna feel good if you just stand there.”

“It feels quite nice, actually,” said Wednesday, pulling her jacket further around herself. “Aren’t you going to follow them?”

“Not really. I’m only out here to escape my roommate. She brought a guy over,” she replied and scooped up a dead minnow that floated to the surface. “I can only take the relentless make-out sessions for so long.” 

“You are also discomforted by others’ emotional and sexual advances,” Wednesday said with an understanding nod. “The same way I don’t appreciate Yoko and Divina swallowing each other for everyone to see. They should keep that to themselves.” 

“That seems mildly homophobic.” 

Wednesday struggled for words. She hadn’t meant for that statement to come off negatively about who Yoko and Divina were as people, and it seemed Bianca took it the wrong way. 

“No, it’s not that. I don’t think negatively about—“

“Relax,” Bianca laughed. “I was kidding. You’re a stone cold bitch, but I don’t take you as someone to strip people of their rights. Besides, I agree with you. Sometimes people don’t wanna watch you drool down your partner’s chin while they eat.”

“My parents are very affectionate,” Wednesday said with a wrinkle of her nose. “My opinion on affection and public displays of romance was formed when I was just a young child.” 

Bianca smiled at her, but genuinely. Most of Nevermore saw her as someone to be both feared and admired, but Wednesday could see past the mask and queen bee crown she wore to disguise the hurt and longing as confidence. Though Bianca wasn’t shoving kids into lockers or stealing their lunch money, many considered her a bully. Wednesday, albeit very loosely, considered her more of a friend. 

“Seriously, just get in,” Bianca told her. “Your knees are trembling. You’re getting cold.”

Wednesday lifted her head and closed her eyes. If she listened with intent, she could hear Enid giggling and water splashing from beyond the shadows that draped over the current. Yoko’s voice called to the wolf, urging her to drop from the rope so she could catch her. It was calming to hear such joy leave Enid, knowing that everything that had happened last semester was good as gone and nothing was lurking in the trees; nothing looking for Enid, anyway. 

“No one is gonna judge you,” Bianca said, startling Wednesday. “I know Yoko seems really brash, but she’s not a judgmental person.” 

It wasn’t Yoko that concerned Wednesday. If anything, she couldn’t have cared any less about what the vampire thought of her. It was that she had never exposed herself beyond a pair of shorts and oversized shirt. She had gone swimming before, but only in the company of her family. No one who hadn’t ever seen her in a diaper as an infant witnessed her in such a predicament. 

“I’ll consider,” she told Bianca, even if only to stop those bright eyes staring into her dark soul. “You may go on without me.”

Nodding, Bianca leaned back in the water and floated away, leaving Wednesday standing at the edge with a defiant chill swept over her body. She was used to the cold and even welcomed it, but she felt herself suffer a betraying quiver. Her lips felt cold and dry and she wondered what could possibly go wrong if she gave the water a try. 

While everyone else was preoccupied with their own activities, Wednesday took off her shoes, shrugged herself out of her hoodie, and pulled off her shorts. Wind whipped around her and brought forth a fresh batch of goosebumps on her arms. 

Using one foot to test the water, she balanced herself to avoid slipping on the muddy sediment that collected at the edge of the lake. The water was several degrees warmer than the air and felt like a comforting embrace she had always rejected from others. 

Sighing to herself, she inched further into the lake, until the water was touching her knees. It seemed dirty under the moonlight, full of sediment and dead bugs and urine. She wondered what sort of disease she would catch if she were to accidentally ingest it. 

By the time she sank into the water to her shoulders and pulled up her legs to her chest, her body began to warm to the temperature. She felt something rough and itchy brush against her ankle and flipped over onto her back, startled. The moon stares back at her as she floundered in the water in an attempt to push herself back onto her front. 

“Woah,” Bianca laughed. “Easy there. I didn’t mean to scare you. That was my tail fin.”

Two hands slid under Wednesday’s arms and pulled her upright. Her feet found the soft bottom of the shallow end and her toes securely curled into the dirt. She wobbled against the hands holding her like she were a baby learning to walk, a vain attempt at wriggling out of the embrace. 

“Relax. There’s a drop-off right where you’re standing,” Bianca told her. “If I let go, you’re gonna bite the dust.”

“Let go, Bianca,” Wednesday softly demanded. “I’m not a child.”

“Alright.”

The two offending hands slipped from Wednesday’s torso, and she felt herself teeter off what felt like a ledge. Her body didn’t get much of a real chance to sink to the bottom before those same hands grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her to the surface. 

Over the sound of water rushing into her ear canal, Wednesday heard what sounded like laughter. It wasn’t Enid’s defining shriek or Divina’s airy giggles that reminded Wednesday of how alone she was. The laugh was boisterous and full of amusement. 

“I told you, there’s a drop-off,” Bianca said with a grin. “If I let you go, will you hold yourself up?”

“Of course. I learned to hold my own head up when I was three months old,” Wednesday said in a huff. “Please release me.”

“Okay, overachiever,” the siren slyly said as she let go of Wednesday. 

Wednesday floated, bobbing up and down in the water, while Bianca took careful note of her movements. The seer seemed to have stabilized herself and found herself anchored enough to not need a lifeguard. It would have been much easier if her heart hadn’t been beating a thousand miles in her chest and her braids weren’t a sopping mess stuck to her chest. 

“Do you even know how to swim?” Bianca curiously asked. “You seem confused.”

“Yes, of course,” she quickly stated, painfully taking in a breath. “My father allowed me to swim with sharks when I was little. It was all I wanted for my sixth birthday.”

Bianca’s eyes shined under silver moonlight. She offered another smile, something she had been doing more often in regards to Wednesday.

“Interesting,” Bianca remarked. “You are definitely a privileged overachiever. I’ve never heard someone casually say that they swam with sharks.” 

Wednesday licked the salt off her lips and listened to the splashing and laughing from the distance. 

“I suppose I can also say that I’ve swam with sirens, too,” she said, gesturing to Bianca’s tail. “I don’t think many could say such a thing.” 

“Well, many fear sirens,” said Bianca, shrugging. “Especially men. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve had to siren-song quite a few creeps into getting away from me. So has Divina. It works wonders when you’re not overcome with fear of what they might do to you.”

Nodding, Wednesday cupped her hands around a minnow that had been zooming between her and Bianca. It began to swim in circles, searching for a desperate escape. 

“It’s a pity that so many men don’t understand the word no,” Wednesday said. “My father is a good man, despite everything that has been discovered about him. I hope my brother will become decently aware that not everyone will want to entertain him. I, for one, understand that I am not everyone’s cup of tea, nor am I easily digestible.” 

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” replied Bianca, going quiet. “But I don’t think you’re so bad of a person, Wednesday. I just think you’re unconventional and unorthodox.” 

Wednesday’s hands parted and the minnow took off. She dropped her arms into the water and submerged herself until it masked the goosebumps littering her shoulders. 

“I hurt people,” she pointed out. “That is all I am good for.”

“You saved us,” Bianca argued with a shake of her head. “Nevermore wouldn’t exist now if it weren’t for your deviant behavior.” 

“And I have you to thank for putting yourself in danger to help me when I didn’t deserve it.” 

She was quiet and hardly audible, but Bianca understood. Under the water, she took hold of Wednesday’s hand and gave a tentative squeeze before dropping it. Her breath hitched when she felt the same nimble fingers take hold of hers and return the gesture. They faded away as quickly as they had come, but Bianca said nothing about it.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Bianca finally said. “This is home, Wednesday. I will always do what I have to, even if it means abusing my powers and killing a few people.”

Brown eyes flickered up to Bianca’s, uncertain. 

“Well, I’d hardly call them people,” Wednesday muttered. 

The siren laughed. “Yeah, well, that is true.” 

Silence grew between them, save for the giggling and current rushing. Wednesday was lost in thought, wondering why Bianca, her ruthless fencing partner, was being so kind to her when she deserved anything but. They never quite saw eye-to-eye, but there was a mutual understanding between them. 

“You know, Wednesday, I see why Enid likes you so much,” said Bianca, growing soft. “She always talks about how you’re actually very nice and just come off as a serial killer, and I laughed at her, but I think she may be onto something.”

Suddenly insecure, Wednesday busied herself with a twig that was floating by. She snapped it into several pieces as Bianca continued to smother her with kind words and compliments. 

“I think you use your nonchalant attitude and passive-aggressive behavior to hide what you really feel,” Bianca continued. “It’s okay to admit that you’re hurting. I think, to some extent, that you really don’t care what people think, but there are times when you really want to care or wish someone cared just enough.”

The twig snapped to smithereens in her hands, Wednesday dared to look up to Bianca. “I don’t need anyone to care about me.” 

“But you do,” the other girl argued, although softly. “Lucky for you, Enid cares about you more than she cares about herself. She loves you to death, Wednesday. I know you might not understand why, but she does. Every time I go out with her and Yoko, she loves to talk about you.”

Wednesday could not imagine someone entertaining her image so much that they could even remotely tolerate her. For Enid to be so consumed by her—that was almost an insult. 

“I hope it’s all negative things,” she told Bianca, frowning at her. 

“It’s never negative.” Bianca’s shoulder nudged hers. “She really loves you, Wednesday. And I know that might be concerning to you, but Enid loves hard and fast. She cares about you. Out of all the roommates she’s had, you are definitely her favorite.” 

“I don’t want to be a favorite,” she muttered. “I am not meant to be a favorite.”

“Well, you are,” Bianca replied with a sympathetic noise. “All I hear from her is Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday.”

Wednesday wasn’t going to tell Bianca that her brain, as of late, had been infiltrated by Enid, Enid, Enid. That was too embarrassing to admit, and more than that, it could damage her reputation as an emotionless robot who cared for nothing beyond what could serve her. 

The hug she shared with Enid the night of the blood moon had done irreparable damage to that image, and she had spent ages attempting to make people forget. Even if Nevermore forgot, Enid wouldn’t, and that still put Wednesday in a bind. 

“Wednesday,” Bianca said, gaining her attention. “Be kind to Enid. I think she suffered some clarity after Crackstone. She hasn’t been the same. If she likes you, she likes you. There’s little you can do about that. And I think having her around is good for you. She keeps you in line.”

Offended by that comment, Wednesday growled.

“She is not my personal guard dog or my parent,” she said. 

“No, but you two work well together. I think you are good for each other, even if you can’t fathom being good for anybody,” Bianca reasoned, splashing a bit of water over Wednesday’s shoulders to soothe the chill. “You are so lucky. You are loved by someone who feels it so deeply. It’s easy to see how genuine Enid is in her love and adoration for you.”

“I suppose I’m better off than. . .” 

Bianca held up a hand. “Save it. I know how unfortunate I am to have found myself with this complex about love.” 

Wednesday nodded. It was all she could think to do.

“Give her a real chance,” Bianca continued, gently. “You are both so lucky.” 

Wednesday bitterly agreed with another silent nod. She had given Enid plenty of chances; at what, she didn’t know. But she knew, with certainty, that Enid had plenty of chances to say what she needed to say or do what she needed to do. 

Still, she was morbidly curious. 

“I will consider,” she said to Bianca, in an attempt to draw a figurative line where the conversation should end. 

“Good.” 

A tickle itched at Wednesday’s nose. She blinked, then sneezed. Bianca recoiled a bit. 

“Naegleria fowleri,” Wednesday suddenly said. 

“What?” Bianca tilted her head. “Is that even English?”

“It’s an ameba in warm freshwater places that enters the nose of a human and infects them with a brain-eating disorder that will eventually rapidly and painfully kill them,” she rattled off. “It’s very rare, but there is no cure. Once the ameba has begun dissolving your brain tissue, your prognosis is bleak and you will succumb within 1 and 18 days of the onset of symptoms, which include flu-like symptoms, followed by confusion, stiff neck, lack of attention, seizures, and coma.” 

Bianca blinked once at her, mouth slightly agape. 

Wednesday, satisfied with her random fun fact, dared to smile the slightest bit. “It’s quite impressive, actually.”

“Yeah,” Bianca fondly sighed. “Enid is very lucky to have you.” 

—

Wednesday & Enid

Nightmares were as easy as breathing and as entertaining as archery and catching a killer. Wednesday had suffered them since infancy and decided that, if she couldn’t banish them, she might as well join them. 

Her fool-proof tactic seemed to come to a screeching halt after the events that had unfolded the night she defeated Laurel Gates and her myriad of tricks and schemes. Wednesday salvaged Nevermore’s legacy by the skin of her teeth, but it wasn’t without cost. Freedom was never truly free, and anyone who thought so was rooted in privilege of normalcy and a blind eye to socioeconomic issues. 

Wednesday paid an ultimate, nightly price of waking with a start in her bed, back slick with sweat and sheets coiled around her limbs. It was as if she had a nightly subscription to her nightmares and could not opt out or cancel it. 

Tonight was absolutely no different than all the rest. She woke on her right side, facing the opposite side of the room, where Enid slept soundly amid a pile of stuffed animals that she swore protected her. Wednesday wasn’t cruel enough to remind her that they were inanimate and were unlike a siren’s powerful amulet. Stuffed animals didn’t do anything but take up space and kill the environment through overproduction. 

Betraying her own morals, Wednesday fixated on a particular bumblebee—Enid called it a Squishmallow, whatever that meant. Enid always hugged it to her chest to fall asleep, nose buried between the antennae. It reminded Wednesday fondly of Eugene and his bees. Sometimes the sight of Enid curling herself around the plush relaxed her, though she would never admit to such heinous things. 

Enid buried in her pile of stuffed animals was an image akin to a child seeking comfort, but she was no child. A child couldn’t have done what she did last semester. A child couldn’t have saved Wednesday. 

Yet, within the safety of her stuffed unicorn collection and the bumblebee tucked in her arms, Enid seemed so perfectly innocent. Wednesday could not fathom how anyone—human or monster—could look at her in any of her forms and find the will to harm her. 

Even if it could’ve been argued that Tyler’s Hyde was not exactly him as a person, that he was essentially Laurel’s puppet, Wednesday felt sick when she thought of him. She felt even sicker remembering that she gave him her first kiss. If she thought even further beyond that shallow thought, she found herself overcome with grief that Enid wore scars on her face as a result of Wednesday’s carelessness. 

She stared at sleeping Enid far too long before she was forced to blink wetness from her eyes. She came to the sudden realization that she’d had a nightmare so terrible, it caused tears to form. It was an act of betrayal for her to cry, but it was dark and Enid was asleep and unaware. She felt a bit better about it then. Less vulnerable, even.

Enid’s chest rose and fell with soft, steady breaths. If Wednesday couldn’t see it through the pale moonlight, she might’ve panicked, but she was more at ease knowing that Enid’s blood was still pumping through her body and her heart was beating. 

Wednesday was overcome with a bout of nausea so intense that she leaned over the side of her bed and slapped a hand over her mouth. The vomit never reached her mouth, but if she weren’t careful enough, she would run the risk of soiling the floor and waking Enid. 

After settling back into bed and allowing the sick feeling to pass, she laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, taking a breath to stabilize herself. She suddenly felt heavy yet weightless as she drifted off, and through the warped sense of time in that scary realm between wake and sleep, she allowed herself to rest.  

An undetermined amount of time passed before Wednesday stirred again, this time rousing to the sound of scraping against the floor beside her bed. Her hand unceremoniously shot under her pillow and unsheathed her knife as she rolled over and brandished it like a flag. She was surprised to find the room—and Enid’s bed—empty. 

As the shuffling stopped, Wednesday willed her heartbeat to slow. Still clutching the knife at her side, she leaned over the side of the bed and took in the sight of her roommate curling up and making herself at home in a ball on the floor. Blonde hair poured out of its two bunches that sat atop Enid’s head.  

“Enid?” Wednesday quietly asked, dropping her knife entirely as her entire body relaxed in both relief and confusion. “Enid?”

Enid’s inner wolf whimpered at the sound of her name. Lately, Enid had been making more dog-like noises whenever she was upset or scared, and Wednesday would have been lying to herself if she said she found it irritating. 

“Enid, wake up,” Wednesday said as she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “This is ridiculous behavior.” 

Enid made another noise; a deep growl. Her eyelids were heavy and shut as her nose twitched. Her nose frequently did that little twitching motion whenever she was smelling a good raw steak or something bloody and full of protein. 

Wednesday tapped Enid’s back with her foot. The werewolf whimpered again and Enid turned over onto her back. Blue eyes stared back at Wednesday and a pink nose twitched again. 

“Why are you sleeping on the cold floor?” Wednesday asked. “By my bed, at that.” 

Pinkness crept onto Enid’s cheeks, though it wasn’t visible under a blanket of darkness. “I. . .I heard you having a nightmare. You were crying in your sleep. My wolf told me to lay here. Ya know, to keep you company.” 

Wednesday found that to be silly. She’d never once made a sound in her sleep, especially during a nightmare. What was even sillier was the implication that Enid’s wolf was an alter ego and made a choice to curl up next to Wednesday like a guard dog. Enid had to have some span of control over her own wolf. 

“Enid, go back to your bed,” Wednesday muttered. “I don’t need you to keep me any company. I’m content alone.” 

Enid rolled over and pushed herself up so she was sitting on her knees. Her tired eyes sagged as she looked at Wednesday with pity. 

“But you were crying,” she reasoned. “I. . .my wolf was trying to comfort you.”

“Your wolf is not some alter ego or split personality,” Wednesday countered, shaking her head. “If you felt the need to soothe me, you can be honest about it. However, I don’t need such things.”

Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Enid pouted at her roommate. “Wednesday, I’m just trying to comfort you, and my inner werewolf has a protective instinct and tells me that this is where I should sleep when you’re upset. You didn’t notice when I did it all the other times and you still lived.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched and her mouth dried out. Enid seemed quite serious.

“The other times?” she warily asked, somewhat mortified. “How many times have you done this?”

Enid shrugged. “Seven? Eight? It’s at least once a week, I know for sure. If I hear you crying in your sleep, I just lay down here and wait for you to stop. Most times, I end up falling asleep. My wolf will wake me up when the sun comes up, and I just go back to my bed and wait for you to get up.” 

That seemed preposterous. Wednesday found pleasure in nightmares and never woke with a cry because of them. Enid and her wolf were surely playing tricks or collaborating to run her out of the dorm. 

“I don’t believe you,” she finally told Enid. “I don’t know why you feel so strongly about laying at my bedside like some sort of human dog, but you don’t have to do that.”

“Come off it, Wednesday,” Enid groaned as she stood up. “I have primal instincts. If I hear you upset, I run to you. And I’m sorry that you hate it so much, but it’s true. I’m not going to stop comforting you and satisfying my instincts just because you don’t like being cared for. You needed it all the other times. I’m not gonna sit here and watch you struggle while my wolf fights itself to not rush to you.”

There was a moment of silence before Enid stepped forward and sniffled. Wednesday recoiled, fearing a blubbering of tears. Enid was frequently emotional and easy to upset, but Wednesday hoped she hadn’t triggered that response. 

“I care about you, Wednesday,” Enid continued through a sobering breath. “I know that’s hard for you to believe because you push everyone away under the guise of being a strong, independent bitch, but I care so much about you. I wish you’d just. . .let me. Let me care, Wednesday.”

Baffled, Wednesday almost scoffed at her. She wasn’t meant to be cared about. She had a difficult enough time believing that she was at all worth salvaging after she had put Enid and her friends in danger. She wasn’t deserving of the kindness Enid extended to her. 

“You don’t need to do any of this,” she replied with a murmur. “You don’t have to care, you don’t have to spend the night laying beside me like a loyal dog. Nothing you do, Enid, will take away—you can’t. . .they won’t leave me just because you’re here.” 

“Wednesday, stop it,” Enid snapped as she neared the trembling girl. “I know I can’t undo what happened that night, but I’m trying so hard. I’m trying so hard to make you feel normal again. I know you’d rather suffer alone and pretend none of it ever happened, but it did happen and you are suffering.”

“I don’t want to discuss this with you when it’s all water under the bridge,” she bitterly said, turning her head so Enid wouldn’t see how wet with tears they were. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

Two warm hands wrapped themselves around Wednesday’s bony shoulders. She jumped and squirmed away, but Enid didn’t let go. The werewolf’s palm covered a cool cheek and her thumb caressed along the bone. Wednesday, still delirious from her nightmare, leaned into it with a sudden haste and desire. She needed warmth and Enid was nothing but.

“Please stop pushing me away,” Enid whispered. “I wish you’d open up to me. I know you’ve been hanging around Yoko. Why can’t we do the same? What makes me so different?”

Wednesday swallowed and wriggled some more. “I’ve not been near Yoko.”

She had been near Yoko once or twice since the night on the roof. More often than not, Wednesday returned home with a residual smell of smoke and candy mints because of her. She made a point not to touch Yoko, fearing the smell wouldn’t come out of her clothes, but the guilt by association was enough. 

“Please, Wednesday, you always smell like cigarettes and those gross mints she eats so Divina doesn’t taste the blood on her,” Enid said with a mild scoff. “I have a wolf nose, remember?”

Wednesday felt herself cave into the pressure of Enid’s subtle pout. 

“What do you and Yoko talk about that you can’t talk about with me?” Enid quietly asked. Her palm caressed Wednesday’s cheek. “I’m trying to get you to open up. You’re suffering, Wednesday, and I hate watching it without knowing what’s wrong.” 

“Yoko hardly knows anything,” said Wednesday, never moving from Enid’s warmth. “I am fine. You don’t need to concern yourself with my issues.”

The warmth left a cold cheek for a moment as Enid sank onto the edge of Wednesday’s bed. The slight dip of the mattress made Wednesday’s breath catch in her throat. Enid didn’t seem angry with her, but the proximity in which they were so close felt suffocating. It sorely reminded her of when the Hyde—even in its human form—leaned over her in an attempt to intimidate and overpower her. She felt incredibly lucky yet distraught that she was spared. 

The walls began closing in on Wednesday and she held her breath in her mouth, closing her eyes. Enid’s body heat was several degrees above hers, being that werewolves ran hot, and it seemed to be enveloping her with urgency. The Hyde was this warm, too. She had read in the diary that creatures of the sort were filled with hot blood and reached a body temperature of 102 degrees. 

“Wednesday, breathe,” Enid said. “You’re turning purple.” 

A thumb pressed into Wednesday’s chin and pulled it down so her mouth opened. Eyes still screwed shut, Wednesday took in a heavy gasp of air. Everything ached as her lungs burned for more. 

“Breathe in,” Enid instructed. Wednesday forced herself to take another breath. “Good. Now out.” 

As Wednesday let go of the air, a hand laid onto her back and brought her close to a warm chest. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy and burning hot with tears. She reluctantly laid her head on Enid’s right shoulder, squeezing her eyes so they felt marginally better and not so watery. 

“Just talk to me, Wednesday,” Enid almost begged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Everything was wrong, but Wednesday didn’t know how to convey that emotion without feeling totally conceited and selfish. If she looked at those scars on Enid’s perfect face, she would have to remind herself that she was so fortunate to only have to suffer the emotional aspect of the aftermath. Enid had to wear hers for the rest of her life. 

“I should be the one concerned about you, not vice versa,” Wednesday breathed shakily. “I can handle such things. You. . .you don’t deserve to go through this, Enid.”

Enid’s eyebrows furrowed as she brought Wednesday closer to her. Her touch was welcomed with a cold nose nuzzling her collarbone. 

“Go through what?” she quietly asked, beginning to rock from side to side. “I’m okay.”

“No. You’ve suffered physical ailments and fear because of me,” the seer said as she attempted to wiggle from Enid. Still, she was forced to succumb to the warm embrace. “What I did wasn’t fair to you or your friends.”

Enid’s chest vibrated as she made a noise. It sounded like a laugh but could have easily been something else. 

“You’re still on about that?” Enid asked, running a hand up Wednesday’s back. “Wednesday, what happened then can’t be changed, and you didn’t do anything wrong. Who cares if I have scars? I think they’re pretty cool. Nobody fucks with me now because they think I got them in a knife fight or something.” 

“Please, Enid,” Wednesday scoffed into her chest. “You cannot lie to me and say that you are content with those scars.”

“Well, only I get to decide if I am or not, and I say that I am,” she argued back, though she was very gentle about it. “Seriously, I don’t care about them. I’d do it again if it meant you get to live.”

Wednesday swallowed. “But why is my life so important to you? I’ve done nothing but drag you through turmoil. I am about as harmless as a Venus flytrap.” 

“You’re important to me because we work,” Enid softly reminded as her hand dragged along Wednesday’s back in a motion that sent a contented shiver down her spine. “We shouldn’t but. . .”

“We do,” Wednesday completed, growing sleepy against the steady hum of Enid’s breathing in her ear. 

“You don’t know how much I care about you,” Enid said as she grew quiet again, as if contemplating something. “You are so very important to me. I can’t imagine not having you around. I was really worried that you wouldn’t come back to Nevermore after everything. When I saw my official schedule for the semester and saw your name listed as my roommate, I was so relieved. I felt. . .safe, I guess.”

Although becoming sleepier by the second, Wednesday forced herself to sit up and look Enid in the eye. The room was still dark, save for a sliver of pale and unobstructed moonlight, but she was able to meet the eyes that she frequently dreamed about.

“I must admit, Enid, I also may feel more content in your presence than I let on,” Wednesday said with a soft, pathetic sigh. “I returned to Nevermore on the assumption that you’d also return. I found myself to be quite lucky when I received my schedule.” 

“I hated being gone for so long,” said Enid. Again, she pressed Wednesday close to her body and rested her chin on her head. “I was always worried about you. Worried if you were okay after what you saw and went through, if you were gonna come back, if I’d ever see you ever again. It was. . .scary.”

Peeling herself away from the wolf, Wednesday lifted her head so she was looking directly at her. It was like staring into the sun. Enid was blinding and painful to look at in a way that brought comfort to Wednesday. 

“I’m here,” she soothed Enid. “I returned because I knew you would need me as much as. . .as much as I needed you.” 

Enid’s hand dragged along Wednesday’s body again, trying to warm the shiver that Wednesday trembled with. It was cold out and a draft ghosted over them both. Wednesday seemed eager to nestle into Enid with haste. 

 “The whole time I was gone, I was just worried about you,” Enid said with a sniffle. “I missed you so much, Wednesday. I was so worried and scared. I was worried you wouldn’t come back, and I was scared who you’d be if you did come back, and—“

“—Enid,” Wednesday interjected as she took a breath. “I’m here, okay? I’m here. And I have no plans to leave Nevermore. Not until graduation, that is.”

Enid didn’t want to even consider graduation. It seemed so far yet so close all at once. In just two short years, she would leave Nevermore and become forced to set out on a life her mother wanted for her; attend a decent community college near home, find a nice wolf boy to settle down with, have some pups. She wouldn’t see Wednesday again. 

She wouldn’t see Wednesday again. 

They would never see each other again.

Suddenly, Enid’s arms wound around Wednesday in a tight embrace. The pressure soothed Wednesday’s shivering as she leaned into the warmth that Enid’s wolf radiated. It was reminiscent of the hug they shared under the blood moon. They were bloodied and aching with residual wounds, but they were together, and it felt just right.

“Wednesday,” Enid said, pulling away from the other girl just enough to run a hand through the messy hair hanging over Wednesday’s eyes. “I missed you so much. I. . .I love you, Wednesday. I love you so very much.” 

Those words felt like a knife twisting in Wednesday’s gut, which she had quite literally experienced before. Perhaps this was even far worse than the knife that was plunged into her stomach. This seemed to elicit something more painful and alluring. She enjoyed it beyond measure.

“Enid, I have to admit that our time spent apart opened something I dislike very much; emotion,” she finally found the strength to say through chapped, burnt lips. “I spent most of my unoccupied time wondering about you. Where you were, what you were doing, who you happened to be with. I attempted meditation and finding distractions to push you from my prefrontal lobe, to no luck. I even asked my father if he was willing to perform a lobotomy on me, to which he politely declined and said that was too outdated.” 

Enid’s pink lips turned into a frown. She hadn’t realized that the idea of her was so unpleasant to Wednesday. 

“But. . .” Wednesday continued upon seeing the discomfort in Enid’s eyes, “I grew to enjoy thinking of you. It allowed me something to anticipate as time grew closer to my return to Nevermore. Of course, there was that bit of agony where I thought that what had happened might have ran you off for good. Still, I decided that it was worth the risk. If you hadn’t been here and I grew to loathe this godforsaken hell pit, I would’ve created a disaster so large I’d have no option but to be expelled.”

The disgruntled expression on Wednesday’s face turned Enid’s frown into a bright grin of joy. Enid could imagine that Wednesday would kick up a fuss and create some sort of chaos to convince their new principal to expel her. Wednesday was smarter than most thought she was, and if she was unhappy, as were the others around her.

“I suppose that, what I’m trying to tell you is. . .” Wednesday murmured, finally raising her head to tilt it at Enid, “I’ve begun to develop feelings for you, too. I suppose I missed you so dearly because I couldn’t fathom being apart with no certainty of reunification.”

“Wednesday, I promise you won’t lose me,” Enid said as her fingers wiped at a stray tear traveling down Wednesday’s face. “I missed you, and I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

Something made Wednesday’s stomach sink with existential dread. She recognized the pulling feeling as desire. She hadn’t felt it in so long, it almost seemed disgusting. 

“I have an urge, Enid,” she quickly declared before she could have the chance to retract her statement. 

“What is it? Because I have one, too.”

Wednesday’s pull towards Enid belied her want to pull away and pretend as though she were in some sort of discombobulated fever dream. She understood that she was too far gone to back out of her desires, and if she did, her relationship with Enid would never be the same. If she didn’t dive into the deep end now, she would have to consider all hope and chances lost. She might’ve had to pack up everything she knew at Nevermore and return home in humiliation and a broken heart.

Before anything could prevent her from following through, Wednesday leaned up and into Enid. Warm met cold as their lips tentatively touched in a soft kiss. It didn’t last too long; maybe a second or two, before they pulled away. There were no monsters or visions that time. Everything felt simple and easy with Enid, like they were both born for that very moment. 

A quiet sigh of content left Enid as Wednesday’s palm laid against her scarred cheek and her thumb caressed the blemished skin under her eye. Both were exhausted yet electrified with emotion. 

“I love you, Wednesday,” Enid murmured. “I love you so much.”

Hand still cradling a warm cheek, Wednesday left another kiss to Enid’s pink lips.

“The feeling is incredibly mutual, Enid.”