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Wednesday enjoyed funerals. She’d been crashing them since she was old enough to read the obituary section.
But this one was a new experience. Seeing her parents truly aggrieved felt... wrong. The deceased wasn’t even someone in the family. It was an old friend of theirs—mostly her mother’s, from what she had gathered—from their time at Nevermore Academy, Françoise Galpin, nee Sylvanne. She had been married to the normie Sheriff of the small town of Jericho, Vermont, on the outskirts of which Nevermore stood, and was the mother to Tyler, a boy about a year older than Wednesday, which made him age 9.
Her eyes kept getting drawn to the boy. He was gangly, tall, with unruly caramel curls, his hazel eyes red and puffy from the tears that were streaming down his face as he clung to his stoic father’s side throughout the short ceremony. There weren’t many others present beside father, son, and the Addams family, only the mayor with his wife and son, probably around the same age as her and Tyler, and a black woman with long, wild curly hair and an eclectic taste in clothes and accessories. At the end of the ceremony, the others filed past the grieving family to express their condolences. Her parents stayed back until they were the last ones left.
“Donovan,” her mother said as she stepped up to the Sheriff and clasped his hand in both of hers, while her father patted his shoulder. “I am so sorry. Frannie will be sorely missed.”
“Thank you, Morticia, Gomez.” She could sense that he was not entirely comfortable in the presence of her family. He turned to put his hand on Tyler’s back. “You haven’t seen Tyler since he was a baby. Tyler, these are your mother’s friends, Morticia and Gomez Addams.”
Tyler sniffed and gave them a silent nod.
“And these are our children, Wednesday and Pugsley,” her mother said with a gentle smile, looking at her and her brother.
Predictably, like the softie he was, Pugsley stepped closer to Tyler and hugged him, mumbling, “I’m so sorry your mom died,” before stepping back.
Tyler didn’t acknowledge his hug or his words. Instead he stared at Wednesday, and she stared back.
Though his face was stoic now—a habit learned from his father, perhaps—his changeable eyes were a maelstrom of torment and pain and anger. She had to admit that she couldn’t help but feel drawn to this boy.
“Let’s get this over with,” the Sheriff said gruffly, pulling Wednesday back to their surroundings. Clearly the adults had been talking while she and Tyler had been immersed in their staring contest. “You can follow my car to our house.”
Their eye contact broke as he led his son away, and her parents ushered them to their own car, where Lurch was waiting. As they drove to the Galpins’ house, she could feel her mother’s eyes on her, but she distracted herself by looking at the views passing by outside the windows.
Once there, the children were sat at the round dining table with hot chocolates and some children’s books and coloring supplies, which Pugsley immediately latched on to. The adults sat around the coffee table on the other side of the open plan kitchen/dining/living room, her parents on the sofa and Donovan Galpin on one of the armchairs, discussing some details of the late Mrs. Galpin’s will. Her widower explained that she had been adamant on certain points, against his judgment, but that he was willing to abide by her wishes. It was too tedious to listen to the details, though she heard Nevermore Academy mentioned. No, it was much more interesting to watch Tyler, who sat across from her, staring listlessly at his mug, which held a picture of a sailboat. His tears had finally stopped, but he had made no effort to clean the tracks off his face. He was sitting as still as a statue, clearly listening as the adults talked about his future, but she could sense that underneath the calm exterior, he was anything but calm. It was as if a storm was brewing inside him, getting stronger by the second and threatening to burst through his veneer of control.
His breathing became faster, his eyes changing between hazel and yellow, until suddenly he stood, walking over to the sink and putting his mug into it. Then, with a quick look to ensure the adults weren’t paying attention, he quietly escaped out the back door. No one noticed but Wednesday. She waited for a minute before slipping out after him.
***
Wednesday followed the well-trodden footpath into the forest, but it wasn’t Tyler she found. No, there was a monster on the other side of the clearing, maybe a foot taller than her, gangly, with thick, leathery skin stretching over lean, almost starved-looking long limbs, and a hunched spine. It seemed quite agitated, nay, close to panic as it flailed around, looking down at its own body and at the scraps of fabric it was holding in its claw-tipped, long fingers. She tilted her head as she looked more closely. The fabric looked a lot like Tyler’s suit. Did this monster hurt Tyler? But then where was the boy? And there was something almost familiar about the monster... Her eyes focused on the mop of caramel hair on the top of its head.
Hair the color of Tyler’s.
The boy’s ripped suit in the monster’s hand.
Bulging hazel-yellow eyes met hers as the monster whipped its head around with a growl, finally having noticed her presence.
“Tyler?” She approached him, unfazed.
He immediately retreated until his back hit one of the trees growing at the edge of the clearing, eyes darting around for an escape, but she was already right in front of him. He growled again.
“Oh stop this nonsense! I’m not scared of you, and you have no reason to be scared of me.” She stared up into his face. His bulging eyes were a bit ridiculous, but he almost looked... cute. How sickening. Swiftly, Wednesday plucked the torn suit out of his clawed hand, inspecting it briefly. “Well, you won’t be wearing that again. Did your transformation take you by surprise?”
He nodded, grunting and waving his hands around, almost hitting her in the face.
“Be careful,” she chastised him, and he curled his claws against his chest, whining pitifully.
“Clearly you’re not used to the size of your hands in this form. Is this the first time you shifted?”
He nodded.
“Can you change back?”
Tyler’s shrug was accompanied by a forlorn whine. She could tell he was starting to get agitated again.
“Calm down. I am sure this won’t last too long.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s your heightened emotions that made you shift into this form. So all you need to do is calm down.”
The look he gave her clearly said “No Shit, Sherlock!”
She rolled her eyes. “Clearly you need a distraction.” She sat down on the grass, padding the space next to her, and once Tyler joined her, she told him about some of the antics her favorite uncle, Fester, had gotten up to.
After a while, the sound of bones breaking and shifting, accompanied by pained groans, announced Tyler’s change back into human form. She watched, fascinated, as skin, bones, and flesh changed shape and color, until the 9-year old son of the Sheriff sat next to her, knees drawn up to his chest.
“Thank you,” he breathed, then looked down at himself, cheeks flaming red at his nudity. “What do we do?”
Wednesday ended up lending her coat to Tyler. Thanks to her preference for loose and long outer layers, it was only a little tight in the shoulders and covered him to mid thigh. Even though objectively he looked a little ridiculous, the sight quite pleased her.
On the way back to his house, Wednesday quizzed Tyler on what type of outcast he was, since she had never seen anything like him, but he had no answers, which was curious. Hopefully his father would know more, or her parents. Before they entered the house, Tyler gripped her hand tightly, clearly seeking reassurance. She didn’t shake him off.
When Sheriff Galpin saw his son, he jumped up from his seat. “Tyler! What happened?” He turned to Wednesday. “What did you do to him?”
“Dad, she didn’t do anything,” Tyler said softly. “I...” he looked helplessly at Wednesday.
“I found him in a clearing, having transformed into a monster. Once I managed to calm him down, he changed back. His suit got shredded in the process, so I lent him my coat to preserve his modesty.”
The Sheriff gaped at them for a few seconds, while her parents exchanged a knowing look where they were still seated on the sofa. Pugsley, sitting on their mother’s lap, was looking at Tyler with renewed interest.
“And he... he didn’t attack you?” the Sheriff finally said.
She scoffed. “Of course not. Tyler is perfectly harmless. What is he? His mother was an outcast, obviously, but my parents never mentioned what kind.”
“Maybe we should all sit down to explain everything to the children,” her mother spoke up, “Don’t you agree, Donovan?”
The man ran a hand down his face and sighed resignedly, shoulders drooping as he nodded.
Once Tyler had followed his father upstairs for a change of clothes—after being reassured that Wednesday would be waiting for him—he sat with her on the remaining armchair, his hand again clasping hers like a lifeline.
The adults explained that Tyler’s mother had been a Hyde, a rare species of outcast feared by many and prone to being exploited by malevolent people, so they had kept it quiet. His parents had planned to talk to Tyler soon about his probable outcast status, but thought they still had time because typically, Hydes didn’t show signs of awakening until their teenage years.
Morticia suggested it was most likely the trauma of losing his mother that had caused this early awakening in Tyler. As the adults got sidetracked into a discussion of what this would mean for Tyler, the boy’s head sunk heavily onto Wednesday’s shoulder and she, too, felt uncharacteristically sleepy all of a sudden. She felt herself being lifted into her father’s familiar arms, then carried up the stairs, where she was laid down on an unfamiliar bed next to Tyler. As she rolled onto her side to face her monster-boy, she heard fragments of sentences in the hushed voices of their fathers as they retreated: “never would have thought” and “already bonded” and “figure this out” and “not tear them apart” . She’d think about what it all meant later.
Wednesday smiled softly, the peaceful hum of Tyler’s mind at the back of her own luring her to sleep.