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“Do you have to say stuff in that way?”
Enid refuses to look at her, yet can sense Wednesday’s disgruntled expression as she sulks, eyes narrowed and lips parted.
“How, exactly?”
Enid persists in not staring back at her, but the scorching severity of Wednesday’s gaze makes her shudder. It’s like Wednesday’s eyes are piercing through the side of her head.
“Like- like in a way like, I’m annoyed to have you around. Like you’re forced to be around me all the time.” Enid says, voice lowered. “Or that you’re upset having me around,” she adds after a brief pause.
Enid casts a peek, her eyes flickering across Wednesday’s face. Their gazes lock for a single second, diamond meeting obsidian, before they both return their attention to the mob gathered in front of them.
Enid’s arms wrap around herself in a shielding manner. Despite the bustle of the carnival, she seems scared about anyone hearing them.
Or she's afraid that what she said is true. The raven-haired attempts to shove the thought away, but she can’t stop the dread rising in her chest—she wishes nothing but to tell Enid how wrong she is. But she won’t say anything.
Instead, she maintains her attention forward, tracking the actions of others around her as they anticipate the firework show. She struggles to ignore the couples who are sharing private moments of love, arms and hands interlocked, to combat the cold air.
Wednesday unintentionally catches Enid’s stare again before both tip their chins up to gaze at the night sky.
“I have to confess, I haven’t yet been bored since I got here.” Enid is taken aback by the suddenness of her words. She stares at Wednesday intently.
“Are you-” Enid begins to say something but sharply freezes, her head shaking in difficulty. “Forget it.”
Wednesday observes her, eyes narrowed with concern. “You don’t have to steer away, Sinclair. I wouldn’t ever urge you to do that.”
Her voice is soft, but the words she picks draws Enid’s focus back to her, eyes dark pools of fear by unspoken reproach. It’s over almost instantly, but Wednesday still is suppressing the strain that's suddenly enveloped her.
Enid clears her throat, a fairly impartial look on her face, before going on. “I was just wondering if you think your life could still surprise you now that you’re here.”
Wednesday reflects on the sense of unease that had haunted her before meeting Enid and transferring to Nevermore, and all she’d foment within her other schools.
“I’ve never felt more lopsided than I have in these past few years.” She glances at Enid, her blue eyes gleaming in the bright lights of the carnival. “Even after transferring to Nevermore, I still feel lopsided. I guess my world will always be somewhat tilted.”
The revelation spills from her lips with no control. Enid doesn’t budge.
“Do you like feeling lopsided?”
The burst of fireworks cuts in on them, accompanied by a wave of blaring cheers from the huge crowd of people. Wednesday and Enid watch in awe as the dazzling lights decorate the sky at night. The ruckus, though, fails to muffle Enid’s accelerated heartbeat, and Wednesday is acutely aware as to how close their shoulders are touching.
Her gaze stays fixed on the sky, but she mumbles a response. “Yeah. I think I like it.”
Enid toughens beside her. But she doesn’t back down. She really presses herself closer to Wednesday. Her hand, silently and tentatively, finds Wednesday’s. They skim across each other.
The taller girl releases a trembling breath as their fingers lace together. Wednesday glances down at their linked hands, then up at Enid, whose stare is riveted on the blinding sky.
They remain there, with meager space separating them, both their stomachs in knots. Wednesday can’t avert her gaze from Enid, whose eyes screw shut.