Chapter Text
Wednesday wasn’t sure why her eyes kept darting to the side during Botany, but Xavier’s presence was like poison oak under a bra strap–impossible to acclimate to and ignore. As class wrapped up and the students around her clumped into twos and threes to talk about the upcoming dance, Xavier attempted to lure Wednesday into this teenage ritual.
He said, “DJ Bloodsuckaz,” and nothing about that idea appealed but the way he teased her–the slight smile and light in his eyes–this appealed. She was almost tempted. Pictured dancing with him. He would look good wearing the slim fitting trousers and vest of a flamenco dancer. Xavier was nothing but long lines as it was.
But she declined. DJ Bloodsuckaz and spiked punch. “I’d rather stick needles in my eyes. I’ll probably do that anyway.” She was thrown off balance by this interest in Xavier’s limbs and face, so she resorted to her trademark off-putting asides.
“Or you could invite someone and have a little fun.” She knew he was trying to get her to ask. That he liked her and would say yes. But she had a monster to catch and a mystery to solve. No time for teenage rites of passage and punch.
Wednesday was suspicious why she almost wanted to ask him. There must have been something wrong. Perhaps her keen observational skills and intuition were telling her that something more was going on with Xaiver.
She was unable to let this thought go–poison oak, bra strap– so after classes ended for the day, she decided to follow him to a shed in the woods at the edge of campus. He was inside for more than an hour. It was a pretty great murder cabin, far enough from campus for privacy but close enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to drag a body that far.
He left and she stole inside. She turned on the light and her breath caught in her throat.
It was an art studio of sorts, rundown and ramshackle but functional. But the art. Wednesday stood in the center of the room and turned in a slow circle. All around her was…her.
An acrylic painting of Wednesday as Kali.
A quick sketch of Wednesday as a valkyrie with Thing on her shoulder as she rode the sky.
Wednesday and Xavier. His torso cracked open. The look of curiosity on her face so lifelike. She pulled on his entrails with one hand while absently munching on his heart.
An oil painting with thick, luscious brush strokes creating stars and clouds and the sky was Wednesday’s face.
A charcoal sketch of Wednesday at her cello.
More. Pencil sketches and frantic drawings and her. Her. Her.
They were beautiful. Stunning.
Unable to catch her breath, Wednesday exited the shed just as Xavier came around the side. She found herself gulping at the air as he called out, “Wednesday?”
Shit. “Xavier. Hello.”
His brow creased. “What are you doing?”
She hated that he was so tall. “Nothing. I just saw you coming out this way.” An hour ago. Shit, why was her brain so thrown by this boy and his shrine of an art studio? “What is this place?”
He looked uncomfortable. Distracted. “It’s kind of my private art studio. I cleared it out, fixed it up, so Weems let me use it.”
She knew. But she didn’t really want to admit that she’d already snooped inside. There was nothing suspicious. “How very entrepreneurial. I would love to see inside. Why don’t you give me a tour?”
Did she like him? Is that what this was? The thought made her want to pull her eyelashes out one by one.
“Not right now. It’s a total mess,” he said. Liar.
She pushed, “I shadowed a crime scene photographer last summer. I’m not easily phased.”
He pushed back, “Maybe another time. Why were you looking for me?”
“I wanted to go over Ms Thornhill’s homework assignment.” She grasped at the first idea that popped into her brain and wanted to smack Thing against her forehead as soon as the words came out because–
“She didn’t give us homework. Remember? Why are you really out here? Is this about a certain dance that makes you want to poke needles into your eyes perhaps? I’m all ears.” Oh gods, that face. He looks so dopey and climbable when he’s got that over confident smile on his face. But she appreciated him handing her an excuse while her brain was busy misfiring.
“Are you really going to make me ask?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Oh, absolutely.” He was suddenly two feet taller and his hair was shiner and the muscles in his face tightened and lifted in joy. Her stomach responded by throwing itself into her throat. Did she like him?
“Would you–,” she tried and couldn’t continue. But she realized that if she didn’t ask him to the dance Bianca would and then she’d have to kill her. Asking Xavier was really saving Bianca’s life, she reasoned.
“Would– Would you possibly consider going to the Rave’n dance with a certain–” If her mother saw her now, Wednesday would have to vomit all over one of her slinky dresses just to create a diversion.
“Would–” Why was this so difficult? “Would you go to the dance with me?”
“Yes, Wednesday, I would love to go to the dance with you. I thought you’d never ask.” His answer was both obvious and a relief. He looked so self satisfied she wanted to bite him.
“Neither did I.” At least that part was the truth.