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Chapter Text

Sometime in the middle of winter, after Nevermore returned to its normal business operations and everything had been swept under the rug by the school board, Wednesday was sitting in her useless potion-making and spell-casting class with a spell book opened in front of her. The class was now on chapter eight, and yet Wednesday’s book was still flipped to chapter seven. She couldn’t remember when Ms. Faye decided to move along without her, but a warning would have been nice, because now she was utterly stumped by the intricate illustrations and words on the chalkboard ahead of her.

She didn’t appreciate returning to school three weeks ago and finding that her ability to claim any seat in the room had been revoked. Instead there had been names on slips of paper scrawled with permanent marker taped to either side of the shared tables. When Wednesday had found her name slapped right next to Divina’s, her dead heart just about dropped to her feet. They were shoved at the back of the class, about which Divina complained because she couldn’t trade notes with Bianca, who was sitting up front. 

Three weeks had finally come and gone, and Divina wasn’t necessarily a terrible desk partner to have; she was drowsy and quiet most of the time, but Wednesday could have done without the excessive doodling in her blue notebook. Divina was drawing fish—of course she was—and it aggravated Wednesday, because she thought that it was simple enough to at least pretend to show interest in whatever lesson was being fed to them. 

Wednesday hurriedly flipped the pages to chapter eight and pinpointed the exact excerpt Ms. Faye was rattling off at her. She attempted to follow along with disinterest, her shifty eyes moving from the open window to the chalkboard and back again. If she squinted, she could make out a faint shadow weaving through the trees outside, but when her eyes fully opened and adjusted to the annoyingly bright overhead light, it was gone. 

Weems, still attempting to recover from the effects of nightshade poisoning that left her with chronic migraines brought on by even thinking of the young Addams, had made it abundantly clear to Wednesday that she was not allowed to leave the premises during class hours, and if Wednesday didn’t give one iota about inflicting pain upon the woman, she would have snuck out the window to chase whoever was certainly trying to lure into the woods, but perhaps she did care, even just a smidge, so she sat rigidly in her uncomfortable chair and waited for further instruction. 

“Psst,” a voice whispered in her ear.

Wednesday just about bolted right out of her seat. She gripped onto the underside of the chair and turned her head to glare at the siren next to her. Divina was looking expectantly at her, bright eyes blinking quickly like she was on some type of drug.  

“Do you have an eraser?” Divina quietly asked. 

Wednesday’s eyes shifted to the pencil Divina was drawing with. The eraser at the top was noticeably chewed off. Either Enid had gotten ahold of it on a full moon or Divina had a nervous tic problem. Wednesday was inclined to bet on the latter, judging by the way she was always shaking her leg and tapping her fingers on the desk. 

“Not if you’re going to gnaw it like a wild animal,” she coldly replied. 

Blushing slightly, Divina looked at her pencil. “I promise I won’t. I just messed up on my trout.”

Begrudgingly so, Wednesday handed her a black eraser. Divina smiled in thanks and erased the half-drawn trout she was trying to assemble before sweeping the residual “eraser crumbs,” as she called them, over to Wednesday’s side. 

The seer almost growled with disgust, sweeping them back to Divina, who ignored her and continued doodling. 

“Would you stop being so insolent today?” Wednesday hissed at her. “You are making a mess.”

Someone cleared their throat, and Wednesday cautiously looked up. Ms. Faye was standing by her desk, spell book in one hand as the other perched on her hip. 

“If you have something to say, Miss Addams, you can say it in front of the entire class,” she coldly said, pausing expectantly. “Well, go on.”

Everyone turned to look at her and Divina, having the perfect view as they could all twist in their chairs to find the siren slowly sinking down in her chair. Wednesday’s eye noticeably twitched and she felt her own thumb tremble around the hard wood of the table. 

“I was making a point to my fellow classmate that she should come prepared with her own supplies rather than snagging mine and destroying them,” she replied. “I don’t appreciate having my belongings used by someone who couldn’t have been bothered to bring her backpack to class.” 

Ms. Faye’s siren eyes narrowed at Wednesday and Divina. She huffed to herself. “Well, that is true, but you need to focus. Either don’t let others use your supplies if you don’t want them destroyed, or take the risk and be quiet. Either way, stop interrupting my lesson so that the class might get through this project and onto chapter nine.” 

A few werewolves laughed to themselves, and Bianca had that telltale smirk that told Wednesday that she was certainly going to be given hell for this after class. 

As the class returned to the lesson at hand, Divina sat up in her seat and glared at Wednesday before shoving her eraser back to her and looking ahead at the board so Ms. Faye wouldn’t reprimand her or Wednesday again. She typically didn’t get into any trouble with any of her teachers, and she preferred to keep it that way, even with a desk partner like Wednesday, who was frequently drawing minor attention to herself by staring out the window and growing anxious as time went on. 

Wednesday was trying to keep herself alert when Ms. Faye put her spell book down in favor of a stack of papers. She walked between the desks, wetting her thumb with her saliva before sliding each student a sheet of paper. Once she had stalked down the aisle and made it to Wednesday and Divina, she sighed at the doodling Divina had been doing, before she silently handed each girl a sheet and traipsed back to the front of the room. 

Suddenly both intrigued and confused, Wednesday pulled the paper towards herself with just her fingertips. It seemed as though Ms. Faye was assigning the class a new project, and this time, it seemed a bit more complicated and vague. It was clearly based around spell work, but the goal was unclear and the paper didn’t have a rubric for Wednesday to study. All it told her was that she was meant to cast some sort of spell, and that was just child’s play. 

“Listen very, very carefully,” Ms. Faye said, suddenly serious. “This is extremely important information you’ll need before attempting this project, so keep your eyes and ears open. Divina. Wednesday.” 

Perking up at her name, Divina sat upright and put her pencil down. Wednesday only chose to pay attention because whatever this project was meant to be seemed very dangerous, based off of Ms. Faye’s urgency alone. She mildly tingled at the thought of something stimulating to her advanced brain after so long of attempting to find her niche besides writing and playing the cello. 

“This is your first big partner project of the year,” Ms. Faye said. “You’re already paired off into groups of two. You will be each other’s project partner for this assignment, so you’d better get used to your desk partner very, very quickly, because you’ll be spending plenty of time together this weekend.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched. The class buzzed with both excited and irritated chatter as everyone absorbed the information. Some were paired with a friend by default and were therefore excited about this, and others—like Wednesday and Divina—couldn’t have imagined anything worse. Well, maybe aside from death, but that hardly frightened Wednesday anymore; not after what she had seen in the crypt. 

“Hush, children,” Ms. Faye warned, quieting the class. “Listen carefully. You’ll need to reference chapter eight for this project, and follow it closely. We just discussed time-altering spells this week, as seen in the chapter. There are different types of spells; time travel, the ability to halt or accelerate the matter of time, or the act of casting a spell on yourself or another person to alter their appearance to any point in their lifetime. For instance, if you’d like to see how you will look at the age of 60, you could cast an aging spell. If you would like to experience what you were like as a toddler, you could cast an age reversal spell. All of these things relate to time and will be important for your project as you study them.”

Wednesday was suddenly more than just invested in this topic; she was practically daydreaming of what it would be like to age herself to the time of her ultimate demise, just to see how it would all end for her. Perhaps she would still be 16 and die at the hands of that shadow luring her into the woods, or maybe she would have lived a full life and died at home, surrounded by her myriad of strange pets and scorpions. 

“But you need to use caution,” Ms. Faye said, pointing one finger up. “I’ve been teaching this class for ten years and have seen this project go wrong, and I’ve been able to successfully mend the alterations, but there are very real possibilities that a mistake could have very disastrous consequences that I cannot fix if you aren’t careful.” 

Bianca raised her hand and proceeded with her question when the teacher nodded at her. “Care to elaborate? What could be so severe that even you could not repair it?”

Ms. Faye adjusted her glasses and stuttered. “Well, you are playing with time travel, and if you manage to escape into another realm where I cannot reach you, I cannot bring you back. I’d have to refer to the school board, who has an expert spell-caster and clairvoyant on hand for catastrophic incidents like that. Still, I’ve not needed their assistance yet, and I plan to keep it that way. So please, children, do use caution.” 

“So how are we scored?” Bianca asked. “This seems fairly simple.”

“This is mostly for teamwork, but it does take two for this project because of the potential consequences,” Ms. Faye replied, eyeing Wednesday at the back of the room. “You must successfully complete one of the spells by Monday and have a handwritten report done; just one report per pair, so you can work on it together.”

The class—besides Wednesday and Bianca—moaned at that, indignantly glaring at their teacher, who seemed to reap pleasure from their suffering.

“Your report must be at least 2,000 words long and contain the type of spell you conducted, how you conducted it, and the results it yielded for you. I’d like you to perform the spell on each other, but if you would like to choose just one of you to attempt on, that is fine, as long as you are working with the spell and using teamwork,” Ms. Faye explained. Her pink lips twitched into a smile. “That’s what this is about, after all.”

2,000 words might as well have been a single paragraph to Wednesday. That was, undoubtedly, going to be the most easily achievable part of the project. The most difficult was going to be tolerating Divina’s presence for longer than one class period.

“And of course, if you have a mishap you cannot get yourselves out of, please get me as quickly as possible,” Ms. Faye continued. “If you can.”

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to grab their belongings and rush out of the classroom with the excitement of being able to alter time with permission. Once everyone filed out of the room, only Wednesday and Divina were left collecting their things. Wednesday held her spell book to her chest and tucked the sheet of paper in between the cover and index page, muttering to herself. 

Ms. Faye smiled at the pair as they were exiting the room. “Have a nice weekend, ladies! Reach out to me if you need help!”

Wednesday paused in the doorway, causing Divina to bump into her. She looked the teacher in her bright green eyes and narrowed hers.

“That won’t be necessary,” she told Ms. Faye. “This is easily achievable with one brain cell. I will be casting the spell on Divina, to ensure that this won’t go awry. I will see you on Monday, Ms. Faye, with my report in hand.”

Unsurprised by Wednesday’s insistence, Ms. Faye nodded at her and smiled at Divina, who was nervously staring at Wednesday as she practically quivered with fear. 

“Alright then,” she said. “See you on Monday.”

Wednesday spun on her heel and left the room, Divina clumsily following her. The door seemingly shut all on its own behind them, startling Divina as she attempted to fall in line with Wednesday’s rapid pace. 

“Wait, why do I have to be under the spell?” she hastily asked Wednesday, hugging her textbook to her chest. “Why can’t I perform it on you?” 

Coming to a halt halfway to the quad, Wednesday backed the siren into a corner and stared at her with those dark brown eyes that reminded Divina of cinematic demonic possession. 

“Because, Divina,” she quietly said, “I have experience in spell work. My very first book I remember reading as a child was titled 1000 Spells to Scare Normal People. My father gifted me a ouija board for my fourth birthday. In my trunk upstairs, I have plenty of spell-casting supplies; candles, books, my pentacle, salt, dolls, stones, herbs, and various other paraphernalia that shouldn’t be handled by hands which have no experience doing such things.”

Divina seemed mildly offended by the insinuation. “But everyone else is gonna do it, and they don’t have experience either. It can’t be that bad. Besides, if something goes wrong, Ms. Faye said she can reverse it.” 

“And that’s why Ms. Faye is very foolish to assign this project to students who have no proper supplies or background knowledge in spell work,” she concluded, clutching her textbook so tight that her knuckles whitened around the spine. “Be at my dorm at four PM sharp. I’ll have everything ready to cast the spell. I want this over and done with before you interrupt my writing time.”

Divina wasn’t at all convinced that this was a good idea just because Wednesday had a bit more in-depth knowledge on spell work. She didn’t think that trusting someone who played with fire and magic before she could walk inherently meant that she was in safe hands. 

“I still don’t know if I can trust you,” she told Wednesday, then paused. “I mean, you did kinda save us all last year, but I still feel weird about you doing something to me specifically.” 

Wednesday’s forehead angrily creased. “Or we could forgo this altogether and I could doctor up a believable report based on the information given in the textbook. At least then you won’t have to invade my personal space and I won’t risk putting you in a position in which I’d have to deal with you.” 

“But I kinda want to try this out,” she replied. “I guess I have to trust you. It can’t be that bad. Could you revert me back to when I was eight years old?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed at her. “Why such a specific, forgetful age? Wouldn’t you be better off knowing how you perish?”

Divina’s nose wrinkled. “Ew. That’s so depressing. No, I just want to go back there because that was my last happy year before my little brother was born and ruined my life. He’s the reason Kent and I wanted to come to Nevermore in the first place. He’s the actual devil. I’m convinced he’s Satan’s son.”

Wednesday found Divina to be an odd specimen, but she wasn’t going to hold any judgment for her reasoning. If Wednesday could have returned to the crypt, she would have made some drastically different choices. 

The bell rang, startling Wednesday out of her skin. She was considered tardy to her final class of the day, and it was all Divina’s fault. She sharply inhaled and controlled the sneer on her lips as to not scare the siren away.

“Four o’clock,” she coldly reminded. “And don’t bring anything in anticipation that Enid will allow you to sleep over. You’ll be banished to your room before dinner. She knows aquatic cretins aren’t allowed in our dorm overnight.” 

Miffed that Wednesday was being so spiteful towards her, Divina frowned. 

“I’m not a cretin,” she corrected. “I’m an urchin.” 

“I find it hard to believe that you genuinely find the word ‘urchin’ to be some sort of pet name,” Wednesday said with mild disgust. “I would never allow my partner to call me something of the sort.”

Divina’s eyes somehow brightened. She bounced on her feet. “Partner? Are you with someone? Ooh! Is it Enid?”

Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath. She physically recoiled and glared at the siren as her upper lip curled with genuine repulsion at the idea. She and Enid were merely roommates, even if there were certain times of the evening where Wednesday couldn’t concentrate on her novel because Enid was constantly over her shoulder or being otherwise clingy with her. What was most disturbing about that was the fact that Wednesday sometimes enjoyed the company, but she would never admit that to anyone. 

“Never insinuate that again,” she told Divina. “I’m late for class.”

Brushing past the siren with enough force to send Divina stumbling backwards, Wednesday meandered through the empty halls towards her last class. She was only two hours away from casting a very risky spell on an even riskier person, and she would have been lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t apprehensive about it.  

—

If Divina was actually going to be on time, which might’ve been a total fluke on Wednesday’s part, Wednesday only had fifteen minutes to gather her supplies and prepare the center space of her dorm for spell work. She had done plenty of spells and seances there to summon Goody, and she hoped that she would find success in this mediocre spell just as she had with something more intense than that. 

She was sprinkling salt in a circle large enough for Divina to fit in when the door creaked open. It would have been a miracle if Divina managed to show up earlier than planned, but even if that were the case, Wednesday was still bothered by it. 4:00 meant 4:00, not 3:45. She spun around to give the siren a verbal lashing for disrespecting her time, and she grunted with disdain when she saw Enid removing her blazer, looking very dejected and devastated. 

“Oh,” Wednesday flatly said, salt in hand. “It’s you.”

Enid sniffled and looked up at her like a puppy. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Wednesday finished her salt circle as Enid quickly made herself at home by taking off her shoes and unbuttoning the white shirt of her uniform halfway, as she always did to begin to unwind. The seer uncomfortably watched as her roommate threw herself into her pile of stuffed unicorns and hugged one to her chest. Enid had named them all, and Wednesday was sure that one was named Rainbow Brite, for its rainbow horn. 

“You cannot possibly still be upset about Ajax,” she told her as she slipped her pentacle over her head. 

Enid hugged her unicorn tighter but didn’t dare look up at Wednesday. If she did, she was going to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry that my feelings are bothering you, Wednesday,” Enid said, rolling over onto her back. 

“You initiated the breakup,” Wednesday reminded. “I don’t quite understand what there is to be upset about if you made the conscious choice to not be with him anymore.” 

Sitting up, Enid exasperatedly looked at her. Her cheeks were the color of strawberry and she seemed a bit sweaty, as if she was straining herself. Her eyes never once met Wednesday’s, rather shifting in every other way possible. She made it halfway up Wednesday’s body before blinking and coming to. 

“Sometimes feelings and situations like this aren’t really that simple,” she told Wednesday, shaking her head. “Just because I chose to do it, doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it. Ya know?”

Wednesday stared at her, devoid of emotion or consideration. She was still holding one of her many talismans, expecting Enid to suck up whatever she was feeling and make herself scarce, but the wolf didn’t seem to understand that her roommate was in the middle of something important.

“You’ll need to be gone in the next five minutes,” Wednesday proceeded with little regard for the glittering tears in Enid’s eyes. “Divina and I have to cast a spell for class, and one important rule of spell-casting is that only those involved with the spell are to be present. I can’t risk something happening to you—again—so I suggest you take what you need to keep yourself occupied for the next hour and be gone.”

For a moment, Wednesday’s eyes met the scars decorating Enid’s cheek. She was plagued by guilt each time she saw them, always wondering what would have happened if she had done something different. Would Enid still have those scars? Would they have not been severe enough to force her to wear them the way she wore her dyed hair? Would Enid have been dead?

“You’re staring,” Enid suddenly said. “You spaced out.”

Wednesday’s eyebrows met. “Are you going to leave?” 

Enid feigned hurt at the statement, clutching her chest. “Are you saying I’m unwanted? That you don’t want me, Wednesday?”

Wednesday clenched her jaw and nearly crushed her talisman in her hand. Enid was always the source of the throbbing vein in her forehead, yet Wednesday didn’t have it in her to raise her voice or push the girl out the window as she used to fantasize about when they first met. She couldn’t hurt Enid more than she already had. 

But that did not mean that she couldn’t use a little force.

“Stop with the dramatics and gather your things,” she demanded, checking her watch. It was 3:57. “You have three minutes to do what is necessary and disappear from this room for the next hour.” 

“Fine,” Enid dragged in a sigh as she got off her bed and grabbed some comfortable clothes from her dresser drawer. They were such an eyesore but brought Wednesday comfort in knowing that, despite the atrocities Enid had seen that night, that part of herself was still there. 

As Enid changed in their tiny bathroom, Wednesday completed her circle and took her matches from her pocket. Her textbook was already open to chapter eight, most of which she had to quickly skim on the way to the dorm so she would have plenty of time to prepare her circle. 

When the bathroom door opened, Enid exited in that hideous Strawberry Shortcake shirt that Wednesday thought had been casted from metaphoric hell, and a pair of baby pink sweatpants. She put on some comfortable shoes and grabbed her cellphone and charger from her desk.

“I’m going over to Yoko’s,” she told Wednesday. “It’s Friday night, anyway. She’ll probably keep me for awhile since you’ll be with Divina and she won’t have her distraction.” 

“For an hour,” Wednesday immediately corrected, shaking her head. “No more than that. I can barely tolerate her sitting next to me in class as it is. Yoko can gladly have her back once the spell is done. I will be writing the report as to not spend unnecessary time with her. I’m prepared to kick her out of here the moment I reverse the timeline.”

Enid’s eyebrows nervously raised. “Timeline?”

“Yes, timeline,” Wednesday repeated. She’d completely forgotten that Enid was not taking a spell-casting class this semester. “Our project is to select a time alteration spell. You can age or de-age yourself, time travel, or freeze or accelerate time. It’s all reversible, if you know what you’re doing, which is why I’ve chosen to cast it. I don’t necessarily trust Divina to toy with something as serious as this. She still thinks that ‘fact’ and ‘factoid’ are interchangeable. What a laughable urchin she is.” 

Enid seemed more than just concerned; she was suddenly fidgeting with her fingers and glancing at the salt circle. Her eyes caught onto the shiny pentacle around Wednesday’s neck, wondering if that was meant to do something or it was more of a decoration like her own sunshine pendant her father gifted her for Christmas over the break. Except her pendant didn’t have powers the way Wednesday’s pentacle probably did.

“Divina is not stupid,” Enid said. “She’s really good with numbers and alchemy. Just not so great with literature.” 

“And yet I do not trust her with this spell,” Wednesday immediately replied. “There are things in this world that should not be toyed with by inexperienced hands and minds. I’m confident that this will go just fine, if she minds my instructions and doesn’t try to have the upper hand. She’s going to be very vulnerable under the spell, and it’s going to be very dangerous for her if she doesn’t heed my warnings.”

Enid glanced at her. She was almost always puzzled by Wednesday, because she didn’t know how they both managed to survive the events of the blood moon and nearly forget about it. Wednesday had saved Nevermore’s fate and the lives of everyone in it, but no one wanted to talk about that. Everything was as it had been before, except Enid was no longer chasing after Ajax and Wednesday was as cold as ever. There was an absentminded look on her face at all times, like a mask perfectly fitted just for her. It was disturbing, really, but Enid wasn’t going to comment on it. At least, not then.

Wednesday checked her watch. 4:01. “She’s already late. I figured as much.”

“It’s only a minute past,” Enid tried to defend, shrugging. “Not that big of a deal.” 

And that was yet another frustrating part of Enid’s already overbearing personality; lack of concept of time and no regard for punctuality. Wednesday had her own daily itinerary plastered on her side of the room, and she was extremely diligent in abiding by it. Anything that would compromise her tight schedule was unworthy of her time and would just have to wait, like the time Enid invited her to go shopping in Jericho with her with only an hour to spare. She had declined in favor of her cello, which hurt Enid’s feelings, but Wednesday couldn’t bear to apologize for that. 

That was two weeks ago, and Wednesday still felt residual guilt, but she still wasn’t going to apologize. 

“I told her 4 o’clock sharp,” Wednesday huffed. “That means on the dot, not one minute before or after.”

Enid smiled. “You’re so technical.”

“I don’t like my time wasted,” she quickly corrected. “I’m wasting the day away with every unproductive minute that passes. I need to get through this mediocre task so I can write the report, which is meant to be done by hand, settle down to work on my novel, and then prepare for bed. I cannot do that if she’s going to be late and impede my plans.” 

“She will be here,” Enid assured. “She probably got stopped by a teacher for making out with Yoko in the quad. Again.” 

Enid wasn’t understanding the urgency, and that infuriated Wednesday. There she was, fully prepared for a spell that she should have already been casting, and yet there was no Divina, no spell, and no results. All that was left was the eyesore that was Enid, who could not tear her eyes away for just one second so Wednesday could feel comfortable existing in their shared space.

“Whatever her reasoning is, I don’t appreciate this,” Wednesday grumped and bookmarked her spell book. “I’m sure she is very punctual when Yoko tells her to be somewhere at a specific time.”

“They both have no concept of time,” Enid said, shrugging again as if this were normal. “They’re literally half an hour late to everything.”

Wednesday’s blood practically boiled. “I do not have half an hour to waste. I’m trying to finish this before the evening.”

The door swung open, and Divina stepped in without her textbook or anything to indicate she wanted to participate in this at all. She had changed out of her uniform and was in a much more comfortable outfit; a blue sweater and gray sweatpants. She knew that Enid was very particular about keeping the floor clean and didn’t want anyone tracking mud in, so she kicked off her shoes by the door. 

“Knocking would have been nice,” Wednesday muttered.

“Oh, sorry,” she dismissed, then wiggled her eyebrows. “Was I interrupting something?”

“You are late,” Wednesday snapped, looking at her watch. “Three minutes late, actually. Didn’t I say four PM sharp? Or were you conveniently not listening when we planned this?”

“I was listening. Yoko just wanted to take pictures of what I’m wearing right now in case you fuck this up and I go missing or something,” she giggled. “She’s just paranoid. She even told Kent to call our dentist and have my dental records on hand, just in case.”

Jaw trembling with fury, Wednesday looked to Enid, who was still trying to make sense of Divina’s very euphemistic comment. 

“You may leave now, Enid,” she told the wolf. “We have an important matter to deal with. If you hear screaming, put your headphones on.”

Divina’s eyes widened, looking to Enid. Neither could tell if Wednesday was being serious or if that was her vague attempt at a joke. They didn’t want to find out, so Enid stepped over the salt circle and squeezed Divina’s shoulder as a good-luck gesture.

“I can come back at five?” Enid asked Wednesday, halfway out the door.

“5:03,” she bitterly replied, glaring at Divina. “Now go so I don’t waste more time.”

The door softly closed, leaving Wednesday and Divina staring at each other for an uncomfortable minute before Wednesday got ahold of herself and slapped open her book with an indignant sigh. Divina slightly flinched at the force Wednesday was using; perhaps she should’ve taken her up on that “forgo the spell and pretend we did it” offer.

“Are you mad at me already?” she carefully asked Wednesday, who was studying the spell. “I haven’t even done anything.” 

“I’m slighted,” Wednesday told her. “Now silence as I finish preparing the circle.” 

Not wanting to push her already sour luck, Divina went quiet and watched as Wednesday lit a match and ignited the six white candles surrounding the salt circle. She extinguished the flame with a simple breath of air and pocketed it. She sprinkled a few dry, crushed bay leaves in the center of the circle and stood to look at Divina, whose eyes fixated on that shiny thing around the seer’s neck. 

“Isn’t that a pentagram you’re wearing?” she asked. 

“A pentacle,” Wednesday sighed, running her finger over the spell. 

“Isn’t that part of the occult? Like the devil and stuff?”

Wednesday’s forehead creased with effort. She didn’t look up from her concentration, still trying to make sense of the spell. 

“Misconception. The proper definition of the occult is the relation to magical or mystic practices,” she said. “There is no heaven or hell; only the realm in which we walk. All those prayer cards decorated with saints and prophets are simply trading cards.”

“How do you know this for sure?” Divina asked, cautious. 

Wednesday huffed. She didn’t want to reel back her memories of the night she was almost scooped up by the grim reaper. Sometimes she still longed for and chased after death’s cold embrace. She’d come to close to it and was almost rewarded with the comforting chill cradling her like a baby, but of course she had to be pried from death’s hands and tossed back into the mortal realm. Nothing ever happened as she wanted it. She never got her way. 

Somehow, being alive after that ordeal was much colder than being more than halfway into death’s embrace. 

“I just know from personal experience,” she finally said. “Now sit in the circle and be quiet.” 

“Do you swear that you know what you’re doing?” Divina worriedly asked. The flames were flickering a bit too much for her liking, and Wednesday hadn’t even said or done anything yet. “I’m kinda uncomfortable by this.” 

“Fine, you weakling,” Wednesday said with a glare. “You can back out now, but you’re not performing the spell on me. So you can forget that now.”

If there was one thing Divina didn’t want, it was Wednesday viewing her as lesser than because she was too afraid to commit to a spell. 

“No, I wanna do it,” she quickly rectified. “For sure. I just wanna go back one more time.” 

“Are you aware that you can go back but it’s likely that no one will be there?” Wednesday asked. “You may not see your family there. This is temporary time travel that you can alter for yourself and only yourself. You’ll be mentally thrusted back to 2014, when you were eight years old, but when you wake up there, it’s likely going to be quiet. You may see some of your most beloved memories, like a favorite toy or your bedroom, maybe even photos of your family, but they’re unlikely to be there. You won’t be able to touch them or speak to them. If they are there, they won’t be able to see or talk to you, because you don’t exist in that world anymore.”

The tears welled up in Divina’s eyes were a sure sign that she was going to regret this, but she wanted to give it a try, because she likely wouldn’t have another chance to do this with an experienced spell-caster like Wednesday. 

“I still wanna see,” she sniffled. “Will it turn my body into a kid? Like, while I’m back there, will you see a kid? Or will you see me?”

Wednesday summarized the warnings printed in red. “It’s mental time travel that relies on hypnosis, so you should remain in your current body. But you will be mentally gone from this realm until I bring you back. It does say here that one rare complication is the altering of the body itself, but it’s reversible on a full moon.” 

“Only on a full moon?” Divina asked. “That’s, like, three days from now. If you screw up, I’ll be stuck like that for three days.” 

“Do you want to do this or not?” Wednesday asked. She was sick of repeating herself and answering these insignificant questions that made her look like a fool. “The day is wasting away, and so is my patience.”

Divina hesitated, then nodded. “So I just get into the circle?”

“Yes, and sit,” she instructed, flicking off the overhead light and moving to unplug Enid’s obnoxious fairy lights. “Do not burn yourself or extinguish the candles.”

“The sunlight isn’t gonna bother anything?” Divina asked as she carefully stepped into the circle without catching fire. “You turned off the lights.”

Wednesday skimmed over the rules once more. It didn’t specify anything about the presence of natural light, only artificial. None of the warnings stated that light would cause anything to go awry, so she surmised that it would be perfectly fine to proceed even with the pink light glittering into the room.

“It’s fine,” she coldly told the siren, urging her to sit with her legs crossed. “Relax. Close your eyes for a moment and think back to when you were eight years old. Remember the way you looked, what you enjoyed doing, what it smelled like, what your home looked like. What was your favorite hobby? Your favorite subject in school? Were you happy or sad? Take a minute, until I tell you to open your eyes.”

Wednesday observed, standing over Divina but careful not to break the salt circle. Divina’s eyebrows were creasing and relaxing at intervals. She was clearly straining to process all of her memories from that time period, her lips moving from a frown to a smile and then back again. After a full minute, Wednesday stepped forward and stood closer to her, a glass pendant on a silver chain in her hand. 

“Open your eyes,” she demanded.

Divina’s eyes snapped open, pupils wide and shocked.

“That was so weird,” she breathed. “It was much clearer than I usually remember.”

“Quiet. No talking,” Wednesday said. She held the pendant to the sunlight, and Divina’s eyes immediately caught onto it. “Follow this as I recite the chant. Do not, I repeat, do not take your eyes off it.”

Divina already couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was like it was sucking her into some sort of black hole. She fixated on it as Wednesday’s swayed the chain side to side. The glass glittered in the pink sunlight and drew her further in. 

Wednesday was saying something in Latin with her eyes tightly shut, her book open in one arm as she lazily moved the pendant. She recited it once and switched the pattern the pendant moved in, then recited a second time and switched the movement again, and again for the third and last time. Things happened in threes, not twos or fours. 

Something cold overcame the room and the candles extinguished themselves, leaving smoke rising to the ceiling. Wednesday feared opening her eyes, because she didn’t think that was at all meant to happen. The caster was instructed to open their eyes after the final chant if the atmosphere felt well and at ease, but she wasn’t aware of what to do when it felt like she had just stepped into a freezer. She could see a tinge of pink light through the tender flesh of her eyelids, so she must’ve still been in her dorm, but she wasn’t so certain that opening her eyes was the best idea. 

As the room warmed a little, the pendant stilled in her hand. Her eyes were still closed, blood rushing through her ears as her heart wildly pounded in her chest. Something felt amiss. The entire aura was abnormally disturbing, and not in the way she found enjoyment in. 

She was almost afraid. 

She kept her eyes closed, taking a few breaths to stabilize her heart, and then a noise startled her. It almost sounded like a mewling cat, but as she listened with intent, it sounded more like an infant happily cooing at something or someone. 

Her eyes flew open and the pendant fell to the floor with a small clink. She dared move her head down to face her salt circle that was now being destroyed by a tiny, chubby hand. 

“Divina?” Her voice shook as she tried to speak. “Divina?”

Bathed in the pinkish sunlight streaming through the webbed window, there was a chubby little baby, around crawling age, suspiciously flooded in the clothes Divina had been wearing. It was shoveling salt into its little mouth, using its free hand to knock over one of the candles so it would roll across the floor.

Wednesday felt faint. She rubbed at her eyes a few times, but the baby never moved. It was still there, happily bouncing around on its knees as if it wanted to crawl away from her. 

“Divina?” she quietly asked, absolutely mortified when the baby’s head lifted at that. 

She recognized those eyes; those bright bluish green eyes that sometimes changed with light. There was a dark tuft of hair fluffed out on the baby’s head, a shade very similar to Divina’s. 

“Divina,” she quickly exhaled, kneeling down on the floor and moving the candles out of the way so Divina wouldn’t desecrate the seance circle even more than she already had. “Divina, come to me. If it’s really you, come to me. Crawl, do something.”

The baby paused a moment, a little finger in her mouth as she gummed on it. She seemed to contemplate the command for a minute as she took in the sight of Wednesday’s shaky hands reaching out for her. After drooling a puddle down her bare chest as she wiggled out of the now-oversized shirt her teenaged self had been wearing, she got on all fours and bounced a little. 

“Come on, you useless thing,” Wednesday exasperatedly demanded. “Crawl. You seem to be old enough for that. I refuse to pick you up and coddle you. I need to gauge how old you actually are so I can fix this.” 

Divina made a noise that sounded like she was scoffing. She moved into a sitting position and swiped her hand into the salt, sending it flying directly into Wednesday’s eyes. 

Reacting quickly, Wednesday dug the heels of her palms into her eyes to relieve the sting that she would have enjoyed if it weren’t for the fact that there was an infant sitting in the middle of her otherwise empty dorm. 

“I see you’re vindictive,” she growled at the baby. “I suspect you’re somewhere between seven and eight months of age; attempting to crawl but can’t seem to get the hang of it. Well, I have news for you, you slobbery little cretin. I’m going to reverse this as soon as possible, but until then, I will not be toting you around on my hip. You had better learn to become mobile, very soon.”

Divina only smiled at her, still drooling down her chest. 

Wednesday didn’t deny the fact that she was on the verge of passing out; the room seemed to spin around her as she attempted to make sense of the situation. She found herself flipping through the spell book in a vain attempt at finding some sort of immediate reversal or even a troubleshooting option, but the warnings printed in red were very clear; complications of the spell could only be reversed on a full moon, by a professional caster, and depending on the severity, the alterations could become permanent.

The door suddenly swung open, sending Wednesday flying to her feet like a frightened cat. The spell book hit the floor with a thump.

“I told you not to return for an hour!” she shouted at Enid, who gripped the doorknob in fear at the way her disheveled roommate almost foamed at the mouth. 

“But it has been an hour,” Enid stammered, showing Wednesday the time on her Lock Screen, which was stamped with Wednesday’s face, the moment she had helped Enid win the Poe Cup. It didn’t go unnoticed by Wednesday that the photo was more so zoomed in on her face than anything else. 

More disturbing than that, it was most definitely 5:03.

She didn’t know how she had managed to lose an entire hour of time in a matter of minutes. Surely that was another complication of the spell. Perhaps time was also accelerating, or maybe it was a poor side effect of the spell going awry. 

“What happened in here?” Enid warily asked, gesturing to the mess of candles and salt littering the floor. “Did you do it? I thought you couldn’t break the circle.”

“I. . .I think I made some sort of mistake with the spell,” Wednesday finally admitted. “It was not successful at all. It did not yield the result I had been hoping for.” 

Enid’s eyebrow raised in concern. She leaned against the door, still somewhat confused and motioning at Wednesday. Wednesday decided that the body language was telling her that it was her turn to speak, but the words hitched in the back of her throat and stayed there. If Enid wanted a verbal response, she wasn’t going to receive it. 

“Well, what happened?” Enid continued to press. “You’re freaking me out more than usual.” 

Choking back what felt like a sob, Wednesday slowly turned on her heel, kneeled down, and scooped a nude and slobbery Divina into her arms. When she turned around again, Divina squealed at Enid and made hand motions at her, telling her to take her from Wednesday, who almost didn’t know how to hold an infant. 

Enid’s jaw dropped in horror. She pointed to the salivating baby with a trembling index finger. “Is that. . .” 

“A baby, yes,” Wednesday confirmed, shifting Divina to one hip after some rough jostling. “As I said, something went wrong.” 

“I was gone for an hour, not nine months!” Enid cried. “And it can’t be mine!”

Wednesday took a breath at Enid’s purposeful dramatic display. Divina was tugging at her braid, shoving the tail end of it into her mouth. She almost tossed the baby across the room, but instead decided to push her braids back behind her shoulders and move Divina to the other hip. She was heavier than she looked. Wednesday wondered how much agony her mother was in during labor and childbirth, especially when she had two of those chubby things inside of her womb. 

“This is very obviously Divina, Enid,” Wednesday huffed. “She wanted to go back to when she was eight years old, but it seems that there was a malfunction. When I completed the spell, the candles burned out and the room became frigid, and when I opened my eyes, I found her in this infantile state.” 

“Oh,” Enid gasped, covering her mouth. “You fucked up.”

Enid knew just which buttons to push to rile Wednesday up. Wednesday found it incredibly impressive that the wolf managed to limit her comments and jokes just enough to not be held to the wall at knifepoint. She was excellent at softening Wednesday whenever she needed to, and maybe now was one of those times, because her blood pressure was skyrocketing as Divina’s very loud presence only made itself more prominent. 

“Enid, if you are not going to help me with this situation, please leave me be,” she growled. 

“You mean leave you and your baby be,” Enid laughed to herself. That yielded no reaction from Wednesday, so she quieted down and let her smile fall. “Seriously, what are you supposed to do? You can, like, fix this, right?”

Wednesday was silent, trying to prevent Divina from gnawing on her sweater.

“Right?” Enid whispered. 

“I can attempt to fix this on my own,” she finally stated. “I refuse to have to resort to a professional spell-caster for this. I see this as a golden opportunity to expand my knowledge and skills as a seer.”

Enid closed the door when someone walked past, careful not to startle Divina, who was growling agitated in Wednesday’s arms, probably due to the fact that Wednesday’s grip was too tight and not very soothing. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Wednesday,” Enid warily said. “I don’t mean to be mean to you, but you already messed up on the spell. I don’t exactly think you’re capable of that all by yourself.”

Slighted by that, Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows at her. “I must attempt it, at least. If not, mishaps and alterations caused by spells or potions must be reversed only during a full moon and by a professional spell-caster. The next full moon is in three days, and nothing can be done until then. Still, I’m going to take this chance to repair this myself. But I don’t have anything of the sort in my simple spell books. I’m going to have to dig deeper if I want to do this without Ms. Faye becoming wise to my mishap.”

“And how will you do that?” Enid asked. “We can’t have a baby in here for three days! We don’t have anything for her! And besides, people will be looking for her. Yoko is expecting her at dinner in an hour. What are you gonna say when people start questioning you because you were the last to see her?” 

Wednesday contemplated for a moment. She was going to have to get crafty if she wanted to slip under Weems’s radar for the umpteenth time. Having a baby occupying her dorm for the weekend sounded rather unpleasant, but what would have been more unpleasant was having to admit to Faye that she made a mistake and couldn’t get herself out of it. She wasn’t going to stoop that low. 

“Allow me to handle this,” she told Enid. “But I’m going to have to find something more intricate and extreme. I have to visit the Nightshades library.”

“How are you going to get there without people noticing the baby propped up on your hip?” Enid asked, pointing to a very irritated Divina, who was tugging at Wednesday’s sweater. “You’re not getting away with it. You can’t take her.” 

“I know,” Wednesday replied, then shoved Divina into Enid’s arms. “But you can.”

Enid held Divina in the air and frowned at her before holding her to her hip and turning to face Wednesday, who was tying her shoes. 

“You can’t leave me with a baby!” she cried at her. “I’m not fit to be a single parent!”

Wednesday took a breath and grabbed her backpack. “Would you stop being so loud? Yoko is next door and has vampire hearing. Just keep her entertained while I’m out. I’m sure I can fix this by the end of the night.”

“Are you sure?” Enid asked. 

“Positive.”

Wednesday quietly opened the door while Enid continued to protest her unfortunate role as a babysitter. She ranted and raved about it, motioning to the infant that was starting to whine in her arms. 

“You can’t do this, Wednesday!” she exclaimed. “This is really bad!”

“Enid,” Wednesday coldly said, stopping Enid from further rambling and drawing attention to their dorm. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”

The door slammed shut, and Divina began to wail. 

Chapter Text

ENID

Enid wasn’t quite enjoying being a single parent. Wednesday had been gone for all five minutes before Divina’s wailing and screaming started to tear away at Enid’s nervous system. The werewolf was beginning to question her sanity, wondering if this was all just a horrible fever dream like Dorothy’s from The Wizard of Oz. 

Even as Enid rocked and swayed around the room and made humming and shushing noises, Divina would simply not quiet down. Her chubby cheeks were an angry red, and she rubbed her sleepy eyes with her tiny fists. She tilted her head back and almost threw herself out of Enid’s arms, hands stretched to the sky as if she was interested in something there. When Enid looked up, she didn’t find anything of interest. Perhaps that was just what babies did when they were fed up with being a baby. 

Baby language was very difficult to translate into English, and Enid couldn’t tell if Divina needed a nap or if she was hungry, being that it was so close to dinner time and she knew that teenaged Divina hadn’t had lunch because she had gotten distracted by Kent and his algebra homework. She recalled seeing her in passing and mentioning to Yoko that she intended to wait until dinner to have a compensational meal. 

“I’m totally dreaming,” Enid told herself, swaying around the room and meandering around the mess the baby had made on the floor. “This cannot be happening to me.” 

Reality began to sink in as she shifted Divina in her arms and felt something grow warm and wet on her hip. Her eyes bugged out of her head as her arm supported Divina’s bare bottom. She quickly pulled the baby away from herself, looking down to find a large wet spot soaking into her shirt. 

“Ew!” she exclaimed at Divina, who was thrashing in an attempt to pry her way out of Enid’s hands. “Why did you do that, Divina? This is my new shirt!”

Divina began to relax as Enid brought her back down to one hip—the one that wasn’t soaked in urine—and rested her head on her shoulder. She stuck her fingers in her mouth again, salivating around them like a drool tap. She seemed quite content now that her bladder was empty and someone was holding her properly, unlike Wednesday, who had treated her more like a rag doll to be tortured rather than a human at their most fragile state of being. 

Enid ran a hand through her disheveled hair and moved to her bed, bringing Divina closer to her chest. 

“I need to change my clothes because you peed all over them,” she explained to Divina. “If I set you down right here, will you be here when I get back? And not pee on my brand new bedspread?” 

Divina made a cooing sound before shoveling a piece of blonde hair into her mouth. She suckled on a pastel pink chunk of hair until Enid decided that the dye wasn’t good for her immune system. 

“I’m gonna go with yes,” Enid said, prying her hair from a tight, slobbery fist. “You are so strong for someone who needs someone else to wipe her butt.” 

After wrestling with Divina to get her hair back, Enid propped the little one up against a few stuffed animals and made a barrier around her with her decorative pillows in case she got the idea that tossing herself off the bed was a good means of escape. Divina had a familiar mischievous twinkle in her eye as she took hold of a plush unicorn horn and brought it to her mouth, tempting Enid. 

“Please don’t drool on it,” Enid sighed. “I know you’re only a baby, but I’ve kinda got this whole area set up just the way I like it. And it’s very expensive. So keep that slobber in your mouth.”

The unicorn fell out of Divina’s hands, and she frowned at it. Enid sucked in a breath and anticipated a wail of discontent, but that never happened. Instead, Divina put her fingers back into her mouth and gummed on them as she had been doing since Wednesday had managed to screw up this badly. It seemed to be her favorite pastime, but Enid assumed that babies didn’t otherwise have much in life to look forward to if they didn’t stick something in their mouth. 

“I don’t have anything that would fit you, or any diapers, so I’m gonna have to figure something out,” Enid said to Divina, pausing to look at her soiled clothes. “After I get changed.”

With Divina preoccupied and somewhat entertained by the stuffed animals surrounding her, Enid grabbed a clean outfit from her dresser drawer and migrated to the bathroom. She had her reserves about changing in front of Divina, even if she was reduced to nothing but a wet, slobbery infant who couldn’t even crawl yet. Perhaps if Divina was just a baby—a baby not altered by magic—it would have been appropriate, but simply knowing that the baby was the Divina that Enid spent her free time swimming with and painting her nails on girls’ nights was enough to send her running into the bathroom and locking the door. 

She stared at herself in the mirror under the yellow bulb that was slowly dying out. Her hair was damp with baby spit and the collar of her shirt was a dark pink from Divina’s tears and saliva during her meltdown over Wednesday’s departure. 

Thinking of Yoko and her anticipation of seeing Divina this evening, Enid didn’t know what the next plan of action should have been or if there was even a proper plan of action she could have possibly taken. She was going to wait for Wednesday to return from the library in hopes that Nevermore’s abundance of funds provided a viable literary solution to this very intricate and complex problem, but beyond that brief period of time, she wasn’t certain of what was going to happen. 

As she threw her dirty clothes into the laundry basket, she made a mental note to make a trip down to the home economics classroom to retrieve the diapers used for the baby simulator dolls that the students were forced to practice their parenting skills on. Enid decided that she would have the best practice of them all and automatically deserved a perfect score solely for being urinated on by a baby. 

She quickly pulled her clean clothes on, deciding that she had left Divina unattended far too much longer than a baby her age should have been. She ran some warm water over her face and dried it with a decorative hand towel that Wednesday was probably going to yell at her for dirtying before turning off the taps and retreating to the bedroom. 

Dinner was quickly approaching and the sun had already set for the evening. Enid had turned on her fairy lights for Divina so she wouldn’t be startled by the sudden darkening of the dorm, being that teenaged Divina was quite afraid of the dark unless she was swimming at night, and upon returning to her bed, the wolf found that Divina had taken interest in the string of lights hung over her bed and was attempting to shove the electrical wire into her mouth to teethe on it. 

“No, Divina!” she shouted, yanking the wire out of the slimy little hands. “Bad baby!”

Perhaps that might’ve not been the best approach to the situation, as Divina’s eyes quickly filled to their red-rimmed brims with tears. Her pink bottom lip quivered with fear as she knotted her fists in her own hair and gave it a good tug, whining at Enid as her head bobbled and she threatened to fall over. 

“No, please don’t cry,” Enid begged, already scooping her up from the bed and using one of her fleece throw blankets to cover the naked baby. “I’m so sorry, I know you don’t know any better and it isn’t your fault you’re like this. It’s just that you need clothes and a diaper and I have no idea what I’m doing. I wasn’t expecting to be a teen mom today. This is so not like what they taught us in home economics.”

Divina calmed a little as she rested her head on Enid’s shoulder and wiped her snot-covered face all over her clean shirt. Enid recoiled the slightest bit but kept a good grip on the baby. She swore that she could feel Divina grinning into her shoulder while the drool poured out from her mouth like a fountain. 

“What are you smiling about?” she huffed at Divina, shifting her so she was sitting in front of her on her abdomen. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

Divina bounced in her arms and reached up to grab more fistfuls of blonde hair. She tugged forward until they almost knocked their heads together, laughing when Enid winced in pain. She refused to release her hair, rather choosing to give it another taste. She seemed to have enjoyed the texture more than anything else about it. 

“I’m so gonna need a shower,” Enid grunted as more drool pooled onto her clothes. “When my baby daddy gets back from the library.”

—

WEDNESDAY

The Nightshades library was empty and quiet, just as Wednesday preferred it. She had severe doubts that she was going to be able to work on her novel at all before the end of the evening, but at least she had some alone time to browse the extensive book collection that was funded by several Nevermore alumni. She could have been locked in there for weeks and still not gotten a chance to even skip half the books offered to her. 

If she was honest with herself, she really just needed a distraction from the absolute nightmare of an afternoon she’d created for herself. Her schedule was ruined and her sacred space that she shared with Enid had been desecrated by a drooling, whiny infant that couldn’t even crawl nor had any sense of mobility. 

What was more bothersome than having her perfect itinerary interrupted by this mishap was the fact that the spell-casting and potion creation books were located on the highest shelf possible; so high, in fact, that the ladder wasn’t going to be of much use. 

Regardless, she slid the large ladder over to herself, using the dim lighting as a guide, and began to climb. She made it eight steps up until she caught a glimpse of a book she thought might help her situation. She outreached her arm and her fingertips grazed the worn spine as she attempted to grab hold of it. It was just an inch too far away, so she took a careful step up onto the next rung and continued to reach for it. Still, she couldn’t get her fingers to wrap around it, and as she leaned a little to the right, her left foot slipped off the ladder. She was only able to prevent herself from tumbling to the ground by grabbing onto one of the rungs on the way down. 

“Woah,” a voice said. 

Wednesday angrily groaned and looked down, still suspended in the air as she tried to recover her footing. As she looked down, she could make out a slender shadow standing beside the ladder. She recognized the gold eyeshadow dusted over bright eyes that were similar to the shade of Divina’s. 

“Bianca,” she huffed quietly, still trying to pull herself up. “Of course you would find me in such a compromising position. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“This is merely coincidence. I also came down here for a book,” Bianca said, amused by the way Wednesday just hung there with little regard for her safety. She was nearly eight feet in the air and didn’t seem to be all that concerned about hitting the ground. “Need some help?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed at the offer. She was no weakling. Her foolish accident caused by poor coordination did not warrant any assistance from anyone, much less Bianca, who still was probably owed a genuine thank-you for what she did the night Crackstone was raised. Wednesday hadn’t gotten the chance—well, she did, several times, but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. There was plenty she wanted to say, a novel’s worth, but there was still that uncertainty that led Wednesday to wondering if Bianca was still a foe or now what some would consider to be a friend. Maybe there was something in between; a frenemy. That was a real word, wasn’t it? 

“I think you’ve done enough,” was Wednesday’s version of giving Bianca her gratitude. “I’m able to handle things myself.” 

Entertained by Wednesday’s struggling to gain control of her limbs, Bianca observed with a smile. Finally, Wednesday had two feet on the rung again and continued to lean forward with her arm reached impossibly high. The muscles under her arms pulled like she was being drawn and quartered, a nice burn to sate her desire to feel something; anything, really. She stretched until her muscles were in danger of snapping like a rubber band. 

“You know, there’s no shame in asking someone for help,” Bianca told her. The echo her voice made caused Wednesday to jump, and Bianca reflexively held out her arms. “Careful. You’re being too jumpy. You’ll fall and break several bones.”

“Good,” Wednesday retorted with struggle. “I once intentionally broke my femur by tossing myself out of a tree. It was fun.”

“You’ve got a death wish,” Bianca chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

Wednesday muttered something and strained once more. Her fingertips were breaching the spine of the book again, and all she would have to do, in theory, was wrap her hand around it and tug, but she was an inch too far, and no matter how hard she exerted herself, she had no luck. 

When Wednesday became visibly upset, Bianca’s teasing smirk vanished. Sometimes prodding Wednesday’s patience for jokes just to get a reaction out of her was fun, but other times, Wednesday seemed to be in genuine distress. Bianca didn’t too much care for that, even if their past rivalry would have said otherwise. 

 “Seriously, just let me help,” she told Wednesday. “I’m taller. I’ll get it for you. If you’d move out of the way.”

“I don’t need your assistance,” she grumbled. 

Bianca raised a concerned eyebrow at Wednesday’s insistence. The seer was still trying to grab the book, stretching her limbs like she was made of elastic. It was right there, taunting her for being so small and short in comparison to the average teenaged girl. If she was just an inch taller, this wouldn’t have been a problem. 

Suddenly the ladder moved to one side. Wednesday grasped onto the sides with both hands, stabilizing herself. She looked down and found Bianca moving her away from the shelf where the book sat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped at the siren. “Trying to end my life once and for all so you no longer have a fencing partner adequate enough to genuinely challenge you? You’d rather challenge those weak, pathetic freshmen girls to a duel? Or the faceless kids who don’t even need a fencing mask to prevent you from slicing open their foreheads?”

They hadn’t fenced but just once since Nevermore reopened, and Wednesday had gotten her cheek grazed and cleaned up by Enid. But that wasn’t very important. 

“I told you that I’m going to help,” Bianca reminded, already crossing the large room to grab the ladder from the other side. “I know you like to be independent and do things by yourself, but you’re at the top of the ladder and still can’t reach. I’m taller. I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need it,” Wednesday continued to press. She was going to combust if Bianca kept insisting that she was too small to do this. She didn’t want to be perceived as small. “Find something else to do. Perhaps there’s someone drowning in the fountain in the quad. Or maybe Yoko is having some sort of feminine emergency and needs your help choosing lipstick.”

“Yoko and I aren’t that close,” Bianca said, shaking her head. She dragged the ladder over to the shelf Wednesday had been seeking, and began to climb. “I’m close to Divina, so any interaction I get with Yoko is usually through her.”

Wednesday’s heart almost dropped to her feet at the very mention of Divina. She wondered if Enid was able to care for her without having a mental breakdown. That was more motivation to grab the book and bolt back to the dorm, even if she would have rather never touched that—or any—baby again. 

“Which one did you want?” Bianca asked as she browsed the shelf. She took a book with a royal purple cover and read the title. “Spell Reversal: How to Repair the Irreparable.” 

“That would be it,” Wednesday confirmed, slightly apprehensive. 

Bianca nodded and climbed down from the ladder with the book tucked under her arm.  She looked at Wednesday, expectant. 

Infuriated by how useless and helpless she felt, like she was some sort of unaccompanied child, Wednesday clenched her jaw and climbed down from her own ladder until she felt her feet suddenly hit the floor. It took a minute to process that she was back on the floor and no longer suspended in the air. 

“Here,” Bianca said and handed her the book. 

Wednesday snatched it with force, hugging it to her chest. Bianca raised an eyebrow at her. For the better part of their return to Nevermore, Wednesday had been quite avoidant of any human interaction besides her obligatory conversations with Enid. Bianca wasn’t surprised that Wednesday was still being harsh with people, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t concerning.

“I’m assuming you messed up on a spell,” Bianca said. She thought of something and narrowed her eyes. “Did something happen with your time travel spell?”

Wednesday clutched her book tighter, glaring up at the siren with accusatory eyes. The gears in her head slowly turned and twisted until her brain itself physically ached. Bianca was staring like she was clairvoyant and could read her mind. It was unnerving, really, just how close she was to unearthing the truth. If Wednesday faltered just a little, she would’ve given away her secret that Enid was holding upstairs. Wednesday Addams did not falter, and she would have been damned if she allowed Bianca to uncover her secret mishap. 

“Nonsense. My brother accidentally changed our beloved cat into a bat and doesn’t want our parents or grandmother to know, because he isn’t allowed to perform spells on his own,” she finally said. “I’m going to find a reversal spell for him. No one will be any the wiser that Beelzebub was ever a bat.”

“Beelzebub?” Bianca asked. “Isn’t that something to do with Christianity? I thought you weren’t into all that stuff. Or at least, I thought so. You don’t talk about it at all, and you’re wearing a pentacle, so I’m making bold assumptions.” 

“I am not, in the slightest. An Addams holds no religion,” Wednesday replied. “It’s a fun name and very well known to our religious neighbors who live half a mile down the road. You should see their ashen faces go ghostly pale when Pugsley walks down the street looking for him and calling Beelzebub’s name for all to hear. They have shunned us.”

Bianca chuckled to herself. “I heard that if you call his name three times in a row, the devil will spawn.”

“This isn’t Beetlejuice, Bianca,” Wednesday sighed, more annoyed by the conversation than she rightfully should’ve been. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this spell to my brother before Grandmama finds out.” 

Bianca watched as Wednesday brushed past her with her head craned down. She seemed guilty of something, but that wasn’t very surprising to the siren. Wednesday was always finding herself in hot water, and had she not been branded as Nevermore’s saint, Bianca would have faulted her for it. 

Wednesday was brash and abrasive, which was why Bianca froze when she heard the seer mutter two familiar words. 

“What?” Bianca asked, stepping a little closer to Wednesday, who was one foot up on the staircase. “I can’t hear you.”

Swallowing with difficulty, Wednesday adjusted the book tighter. The spine almost cracked under the pressure as her knuckles whitened. She lifted her head and gave Bianca a burning look. 

“I said, thank you,” she mumbled. “For getting the book for me.” 

“Did I just get a thank-you from you?” Bianca smiled. “Well, looks like hell has frozen over.”

Wednesday made a grunting noise. “What does not exist cannot freeze over.”

“That’s just a figure of speech,” Bianca laughed. 

Wednesday flinched at the echo. A library was meant to be quiet, and yet her sensitive ears were assaulted by loud sounds emitted by someone who she could hardly consider an acquaintance. If it were Enid, who was frequently loud and clumsy, she could’ve easily forgiven it, but she wanted a bit of silence before she had to return to a screaming Divina. 

“Well, you’ve gotten it,” she said to Bianca. “Enjoy it while it’s still fresh.” 

Before Bianca could respond with the “you’re welcome” on the tip of her tongue, Wednesday was already gone, disappearing up the stairs. Bianca sighed and returned to the ladder to grab what she had come for, but she wondered what Wednesday might’ve been up to. She had never mentioned a cat in her long line of relatives. 

—

ENID

Wednesday was taking far too long to return with whatever she thought was going to undo this mistake. Divina had been chewing on Enid’s hair and giving her cheek wet, sloppy kisses. Enid was typically a very affectionate and cuddly person, but she could only handle so much baby drool before things began to get complicated. She didn’t want Divina to cry and alert Yoko if she tried to set her down again, but she also didn’t appreciate the germs coating her face. 

“Ew, Divina,” she sighed, holding onto a chubby little hand and sitting at the edge of her bed with the baby in her lap. “I’m sure you don’t even give Yoko this many kisses.” 

Divina cooed and put her free hand on Enid’s cheek.

“That totally sounded wrong,” Enid followed up as she stood Divina up on her thighs. “How come you can’t even crawl yet? You look big enough to.” 

The baby’s head wobbled like she wanted to throw herself off Enid’s lap. Enid was quick to slide her hands under her arms and hold her closer. 

“No, Divina,” she scolded. “You can hold your head up. Don’t act like you can’t.”

Proud of herself for painting Enid’s hair in saliva, Divina happily giggled and grabbed another fistful of hair. Enid reached up to pry a baby hand from her scalp and unhooked Divina’s fingers from around her hair. She sat the little one down in her lap and held onto her hands. 

“No more,” she warned. Divina latched onto Enid’s forearm and began to gum away. “Ew, that is so gross. I hate baby kisses.” 

Seven wet baby kisses into what was surely going to be a very long night, the door opened and Wednesday entered with a book under her arm. She said nothing to Enid, nor did she acknowledge their new infant fixture in their room, and went to her desk after stepping out of her shoes. 

“Wednesday, you’re back!” Enid exclaimed as she stood up with Divina on one hip. She rushed over to the desk, surprised when Wednesday hardly batted an eye at her. “Wednesday? Did you find anything?”

“A spell reversal book,” she blandly replied as she sat at her desk and cracked open the book. “It’s quite large, so I’m confident I’ll find a remedy. In the meantime, keep that thing quiet and unassuming so our neighbors don’t become aware of an infant’s presence.” 

Divina made a noise, like she was offended by that. Enid bounced her as her noises only grew louder, attempting to shush at her. Wednesday’s hand suddenly slammed against the desk, pens jumping in their cup. 

“Enid, please do something with her,” she demanded without looking up from the introductory page. “You can start by finding her something appropriate to wear. I refuse to have a naked baby roaming around this room. She’s going to soil everything.” 

“She peed on me,” Enid plainly said. “I need a shower.”

“It’s six o’clock,” Wednesday replied. “Dinner time. Yoko is going to be searching for her. If you cross paths with her, you simply tell her that Divina left here after a successful spell completion.”

“I can’t lie to Yoko,” Enid said, shaking her head. “She will know. And if Divina doesn’t show up for dinner, everyone is gonna ask questions.”

“You can lie, and you will,” she clarified, flipping to the table of contents. “Your fist concern should be finding something to contain her filth. I can’t be bothered with it at the moment. Not until I find a reversal. So I suggest that you leave me to study this in silence, unless you would like to become a mother to an infant, forever.” 

The concept of forever in this context sounded like torture for Enid. Divina was cute, sure, but Yoko and Kent were surely going to be more than upset by Divina’s absence. There was that, and the fact that Enid was only 16 and hadn’t the finest idea of how to care for a baby beyond changing a diaper and rocking it to sleep. She was the youngest of her pack and didn’t have much experience with children, much less a baby this small and needy.

“I can go to the home-EC classroom and steal the diapers for the dolls,” she said to Wednesday. “They’ll be a little tight, but it’s better than her peeing all over us.” 

“Stealing,” Wednesday mused to herself, a sliver of a smile on her face. “I see I’ve grown on you. I’m very impressed that you’ve found a solution so quickly.” 

“There’s a difference,” Enid quickly said. “You do things because they bring you happiness. I’m going to have to steal because we don’t have any other options here. Two totally different reasons. I think mine is a little more valid than sadism.”

Wednesday quietly sighed and browsed the endless table of contents using her finger as a guide. Enid was still prattling on about why she was perfectly justified in swiping the diapers, and Wednesday continued to ignore her. 

“Enid, she’s going to need to do her business again soon. Babies’ bladders and digestive tracts are very small,” she interrupted, looking over her shoulder. “I suggest you snag the diapers now, before things get very messy. I’m not cleaning it up.”

“You’ll have to watch her,” Enid regrettably told her, patting Divina’s back when she fussed again. 

Immediately turning around, Wednesday glared. “I’ll do no such thing, Enid. I’m not emotionally equipped to handle an infant. You seem to be managing this just fine.”

“Well, I can’t bring her with me,” she argued. “I’ll be gone for not even ten minutes. Just please make sure she doesn’t get hurt. You don’t even have to hold her. Just watch her, literally.” 

Wednesday said nothing as Enid sat Divina in the middle of her bed and made a makeshift crib out of stuffed animals. Divina was quickly agitated and reached for the werewolf, who left a kiss to the baby’s head and handed her a small plush fish from her large collection. Divina soothed for a minute, gnawing on the tail fin.

“See?” Enid gestured to Wednesday. “She’s fine.” 

As Wednesday went to protest, a familiar iPhone ringtone startled her. Enid grabbed her phone from her pocket, only to find it quiet. Wednesday’s cellphone was mostly useless and left in her desk drawer so Thing could play with it before bed. 

“Shit,” Enid swore as she bent down to the salt circle and plucked through Divina’s clothes. She fished out her cellphone, which had a clear case that contained a Polaroid of her and Yoko on a date on the back. “It’s Yoko. Divina is supposed to be in the canteen right now.” 

“Do not respond,” Wednesday demanded. “If you see Yoko, do not tell her the truth or any identifying information that could lead anyone back to us.”

Eventually the ringing stopped, and Wednesday stood up and grabbed the phone from Enid’s hands before depositing it in her drawer, next to her own. Thing was conveniently missing, probably in the bee shed to get some peace and quiet.

“I’ll clean up this mess and dispose of the evidence,” Wednesday said. “No one can know she was ever here after 5. No one. Is that clear?”

Enid frantically nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be back soon, okay? If Yoko shows up. . .”

“I’ll be sure that she’s ignorant to the situation,” she replied, glancing at Divina. “As long as I can keep the cretin quiet and entertained. She seems to be distracted, but only for so long. Now hurry, before she becomes upset again.”

Enid stepped into some shoes and quickly left the dorm, closing the door quietly as to not scare Divina into a crying fit. She took a look around herself, finding the hallway completely empty. As she descended the large staircase, she continued to throw careful glances over her shoulder in case anyone could smell the guilt radiating off her. Clairvoyant teenagers with accurate ability to read minds were rare gems, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around or capable of sniffing her out. 

She knew she was close to home economics when she turned a corner and was hit with the scent of mildew. There was a wet patch on the ceiling from water damage a few months before, and it went unnoticed to the average human nose, but for her werewolf senses, it was almost unbearable. 

Home economics was the last door on the left of that particular hallway. She felt the wind knocked out of her as she saw her home economics teacher, Mr. Lutz, leaving the classroom with his bag of supplies and papers to grade.

“Enid,” he politely said, tucking a snake back under his hat. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be having your dinner right about now?”

When Enid didn’t immediately respond, Mr. Lutz looked at his watch. 

“Yes, it’s about that time,” he confirmed. “Did you forget something of yours in class this morning?”

“I forgot my. . .alchemy notebook,” she replied, trying to blink away the surprised look on her face. “Again. Can I go get it?”

“Of course,” he said, opening the door for her. “Just make sure to turn off the light and close the door on your way out.”

Enid exhaled with relief. “Thanks, Mr. Lutz. I promise I will.”

“Goodnight, Enid.” 

After Mr. Lutz kindly nodded at her and exited the hallway, Enid quickly ducked into the classroom and flicked on the light. Mr. Lutz kept his supplies in a very specific order, in very specific places. He would surely notice if Enid left something out of place, so she used caution in prowling the room, ensuring not to touch anything but the floor as she walked around. 

Everything seemed so strange after school hours. It was like a liminal space that she saw on TikTok, like she was the only one who existed in that realm. The chairs were flipped over onto the desks, the whiteboard had been erased, and the supply closet was closed. 

She began to panic, assuming that Mr. Lutz locked the supplies away in case anyone—like Enid—had the bright idea to break into his things and steal something. Still, she knew that Wednesday would be livid if she didn’t at least attempt, so she shook off her morality and tugged on the supply closet door. It unlatched with a faint click and a sigh of relief from Enid. 

The closet was filled with various supplies one would find in the average domesticated home; pots and pans, sewing kits, cleaning supplies, and baby dolls. The dolls were shoved in the back of the closet, behind a large plastic bag filled with what Enid recognized as the demonstration infant care supplies. She carefully opened the bag and rummaged around before finding yet another plastic bag containing diapers and a pack of wipes meant to practice on the dolls with. 

She knew that Mr. Lutz was going to notice his stash of diapers missing from his classroom, but that was just going to have to be a problem for later. She tucked the bag under her arm and continued rummaging around until she grabbed onto a plastic baby bottle she once had to use to doctor up fake formula in. Divina was going to have to eat soon, and Enid wasn’t sure that solids were in order at her age. Mr. Lutz would have to miss that, too. 

After stuffing what she could in her two pockets, she hid the rest under her oversized hoodie, so much so that someone could assume she was four months pregnant. She needed to be inconspicuous if she didn’t want anyone to take notice of her making out like a bandit with baby supplies. 

“I can’t believe I’m stealing,” she told herself, trying to quiet her own breathing. “Payback is gonna be a bitch later.” 

Just as her teacher had instructed, she turned off the light and closed the door. The hallway was still quiet and devoid of all life, the way she preferred when committing a crime. She remained on high alert as she wandered through the corridors, her hands gripping onto her stolen goods. 

She made it halfway back to Ophelia Hall by taking the back hallways when she heard a very familiar voice shout her name. She visibly tensed and turned around, finding Kent jogging up to her with a panicked look in his eyes. Siren eyes were always bright and unnerving, but his were even more than that. 

“Enid!” he called. “Have you seen Divina? She was supposed to meet me and Yoko at dinner, but she didn’t show up. She isn’t answering texts or calls, either. Bianca hasn’t seen her. I know she had to do some spell with Wednesday.”

Enid paused, trying to formulate a sentence that wouldn’t expose her compliance with Wednesday’s crimes. Kent was staring expectantly at her, his phone in hand, waiting for any information so he could send Yoko a text. 

“They did the spell and she left before I got there,” she eventually said. “I haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh,” he muttered, growing increasingly anxious. “Maybe she went for a swim. But she always tells me or someone before she goes. She doesn’t just run away.”

Enid shrugged. “Maybe she forgot. If I see her, I’ll tell you. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Maybe she’s taking a nap in her room. Wednesday is kinda exhausting to deal with sometimes.” 

“Her roommate said she didn’t come back at all after she left to see Wednesday,” he followed up, shaking his head. “That’s not like her at all. I’m kinda worried. It’s like she just disappeared on me. I was trying to see if that twin telepathy thing is real and summon her, but I don’t think it’s real. I don’t know where she went.” 

The dejected puppy dog look on Kent’s face was nearly enough to pry the truth from Enid. People loved and cared for Divina, and this was not going to be swept under the rug. Chaos was going to erupt by sunrise. Wednesday was going to be at the center of it, followed by Enid by default. They were a package deal; if one got into trouble, the other was immediately labeled a suspect. 

“I’ll tell you if I see her,” she repeated herself. “She’ll show up later. At some point.”

If Wednesday could reverse the spell, that was.

“If you say so,” said Kent, shrugging. His eyes clouded with confusion at Enid. “Divina said I shouldn’t comment on a woman’s body, but. . .are you pregnant?”

“What?!”

Kent flinched. “Sorry! It’s just that you look a little round. Is it Ajax’s? I won’t tell him, I swear. Are you going to keep it? What are you gonna name it?”

“I’m not pregnant, you fool!” she almost yelled. “The opposite, actually! Can’t my vagina bleed in peace without men interfering?” 

Stammering an apology, Kent immediately turned and rushed down the hallway. Enid exhaled and took a moment to ponder how round her stolen goods made her seem. She was going to alert the staff if any of them saw her in this state, either suspecting she was pregnant or otherwise up to no good, both of which spelled bad news for her, so she quickly took the back staircase up to Ophelia Hall. 

The moment she passed Yoko’s door, she was hit with a pang of guilt. If Kent was already worked up about Divina’s absence, Yoko surely had to be losing her mind. She wondered if Wednesday felt this way at all; remorseful, guilty, fraudulent. Maybe she did and was too proud of her schemes to admit it.

When Enid opened the door to their dorm, Wednesday had migrated from her desk and was curled up in her armchair with her book in her lap. It didn’t seem as though she had gotten very far on it.

Divina was still alive and bouncing around on her bed. A few stuffed animals had fallen on the floor, leaving the baby worryingly exposed to falling off herself. Enid quietly closed the door and began pulling everything out of her pockets like some sort of circus act. 

Wednesday looked up from her spell book, her facial muscles relaxing. “Good, now you can mind the little cretin. She has been making happy noises since you left.”

“She probably just wants your attention,” Enid told her. “I got the stuff. I think the diapers will be a little small.”

Wednesday ignored her and continued to read. That was all Wednesday ever did; ignore Enid and read. But Enid had a more important matter at hand, so she left Wednesday to her reading and moved to Divina, who was laying on her back and kicking her feet in the air. 

“Okay, munchkin,” Enid said as she took a diaper from the bag and studied it. “I’m gonna do my best.” 

Divina was hardly cooperative as Enid cleaned her off with a cold baby wipe. She flopped around like a fish out of water and tried to twist her body to escape Enid’s working hands.

“No, Divina,” Enid scolded, turning the baby onto her back again. “You can’t be naked.”

Finally getting Divina flaccid enough to comply, Enid slid the diaper under her and lifted the front padding. It hardly reached Divina’s bellybutton, and when Enid went to tape the sides, the Velcro didn’t even make it to the center.

“Brace yourself,” Enid told Divina and tried to tug the diaper closed. “Suck it in.” 

Divina squealed, still trying to escape Enid. The tapes weren’t going to fasten. Enid sighed and looked to Wednesday, who couldn’t have been more disinterested by her roommate and the baby. 

“It’s too tight,” Enid said to her. “I can’t get it to close.” 

Wednesday’s dark eyes flicked up to her. “Make it fit.”

“I can’t!” Enid exclaimed, demonstrating her point by tugging at the tapes again until Divina made a very displeased sound about being squished beyond belief. “Does this look like I can make it fit?! She’s got chubby little legs!”

Seeing Enid upset made Divina upset. The baby began to wail again, her face going beet red and her little fists clenching. She brought her hands up to her hair and pulled at it until a few strands came loose. 

“You are aggravating,” Wednesday swore, dropping her book next to her and leaving her comfortable chair. 

While Wednesday was fiddling around in her trunk for something, Enid helped Divina untangle her fingers from her own hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She was gentle about pressing little kisses to Divina’s forehead until the baby began to soothe with touch alone. 

“Oh, you’re so cute,” Enid gushed, blowing a raspberry on Divina’s belly. “So cuddly, too. I want one!”

“Are you done fawning over that thing so I can do this?” Wednesday’s voice startled Enid, who drew back from Divina.

“She’s not a thing,” Enid said, mildly offended on Divina’s behalf. “She’s just a baby, Wednesday. Don’t you find babies cute?”

“Not in particular. They slobber, vomit, and cry. They are bodily fluids with skin,” she replied. “Now move aside.”

“Woah!” Enid exclaimed, pointing to the roll of duct tape in Wednesday’s hand. “You can’t duct tape her mouth just because she cries!”

Wednesday’s eyes became just a shade darker. Her lip quivered, and Enid recognized that as her warning sign. She was about five seconds away from having her canines ripped out by a rusty pair of pliers. 

“Do you have a better idea to keep the diaper closed?” Wednesday asked. Enid shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Now move.” 

Enid stumbled back as Wednesday stretched some duct tape long enough to fit across the front of the diaper. She used her teeth to rip a strip off the roll, and Enid carefully observed as she laid the piece over the front of the padding to hold the tapes in place. 

“That actually worked,” Enid said, still somewhat impressed by her roommate’s quick thinking. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I don’t know about saving lives, but I did save your textiles from being soiled,” Wednesday blandly said, tossing the tape back into her trunk and settling down in her chair again. “Now keep her quiet, unless you want to be changing diapers until you’re put into a nursing home and need them yourself.”

Divina was playing with her feet, trying to bring her toes to her mouth. Enid picked her up and ran a hand over her back, finding her skin to be colder than what she would have liked for a human so small. While Wednesday was occupied with her book, Enid stealthily walked to the thermostat and twisted the dial up one degree.

“Don’t touch that, Enid,” Wednesday demanded without looking up from the book. She had heard the click. “I allowed you to turn it up yesterday. I’m boiling, and not in the good way. Put some clothes on her if she’s cold.”

“How am I gonna do that?” Enid asked. “I don’t just randomly have baby clothes on hand. I don’t even have anything from when I was a baby. What am I supposed to do?”

The book hit Wednesday’s lap as she looked up and tilted her head. Enid physically flinched and hugged Divina closer to her chest. 

“How about you grab one of your unusually tiny shirts that barely covers your midsection?” she suggested. “That hideously pink one that you probably purchased from a children’s clothing store. It reads ‘pink’ on the front, on the left side of the chest, in black letters. I don’t understand why someone would put the color of the clothing on the clothing itself. Don’t people know their colors?” 

“You mean a crop top?” Enid asked, perplexed. “My Victoria’s Secret crop top?”  

She hadn’t realized that Wednesday had paid that much attention to her clothing, but she wasn’t going to comment on it. Wednesday typically curled her lip in disgust at Enid’s clothing and went about her day, never taking a second look or giving Enid the time of day. 

Wednesday taking such a good look at her to remember the exact details of her clothing made Enid warm—emotionally and physically. 

“Whatever that thing is,” Wednesday replied, causing Enid to jump. “If it barely covers your skin, it would fit a baby adequately enough.” 

Enid returned to the thermostat to its original temperature and shifted Divina to one hip so she could use a free hand to sort through her tiny closet that wasn’t large enough for her collection of clothes she had brought from home. Much unlike Wednesday’s, her closet was disorganized and a mess of colors. She filtered through a few shirts before grabbing the crop top Wednesday had apparently been ogling at her in. 

“Let’s see how this is gonna work,” Enid told Divina, sitting her on the bed again and pulling the shirt over Divina’s head. The baby grunted and flailed her arms around, pushing at Enid. “Don’t do that, Divina. I’m trying to cover you up so you’re warm.” 

Wednesday’s shifty eyes landed on struggling Enid and whining Divina. Reading her book was an infuriating task when only Enid was around and being a pink distraction, but this was infinitely worse, because the pink distraction had an even pinker baby that cooed and cried and produced bodily fluids and smells. 

“Don’t move, Divina,” Enid complained. “Hold still!”

Wrestling the baby’s arms into the sleeves was a challenge. There was plenty of room for Divina to pull them out of the arm holes, and the task proved impossible. Finally, Enid laid her flat on her back and gently pinned her down with one hand while the other pulled the sleeves down again. The shirt fit her more like a nightgown, but it was going to have to work. 

Divina giggled, and then her arms disappeared into the sleeves again. Enid grunted in frustration, looking to Wednesday, who hadn’t even made it through the first chapter.

“She keeps pulling her arms into the shirt,” she told Wednesday. “It’s gonna come off.”

The spell book snapped closed as Wednesday got out of the chair for a second time. Wordlessly, she opened her desk drawer and rummaged around. The various clinking noises did not convince Enid that she was finding a solution but rather a weapon. 

“Must I think of everything, Enid?” she grumbled, moving to push her roommate aside. “If you are not going to take care of her, allow me to do this my way.”

Wednesday pulled Divina’s arms through the sleeves and bunched the fabric under the armpits before sticking safety pins into it so they were snug around the chubby arms. Unhappy, Divina waved her arms and made grabby motions at Wednesday. 

“She doesn’t like tight clothes around her arms and chest,” Enid told Wednesday. “Well, when she’s a teenager.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Wednesday said, already returning to her chair to resume reading. “Now keep her entertained. Put her to sleep or something. Read a book, to yourself. Anything to keep her quiet so I can focus. The faster I read, the faster this will end.”

Like a dying trout, Divina fell backwards on the bed and rolled around. She screeched and used Enid’s pillows to pull herself up so she was bouncing on her knees. Enid quickly scooped her up and made shushing noises in her ear, swaying around her side of the room. 

“Shh, we have to be quiet so Auntie Wednesday can read her book,” she whispered to Divina. Her eyes shifted to Wednesday, who seemed to have noticed that Enid was assigning her roles and nicknames. “You wanna play with my fidget cube?”

“So she can choke and I will have a murder case on my hands?” Wednesday asked. 

Enid jumped a foot in the air and turned around. Wednesday’s book laid open in her lap yet unread, and Wednesday herself was tapping away at the arm of the chair, staring expectantly at the wolf and baby.  

“Do you have a better idea?” Enid asked. “I don’t have any baby toys. All she can play with is my stuffed animals, but she’s gonna get them dirty.”

“When I was her age, my Uncle Fester handed me my first grenade,” she replied. “It didn’t explode much of anything, though. A real bore.”

“Uh. . .I don’t think that’s appropriate for her,” Enid wavered. “I mean, she can barely walk without tripping as a teenager. I don’t really trust her with that when she can’t even crawl yet.”

A tiny fist jammed its way into Enid’s trachea. She made a gagging sound and pulled Divina away from her body, suspending her in the air as the infant giggled and happily kicked her feet in joy. 

“She’s very viscous for an infant,” Wednesday pleasantly said. 

“She just throat-punched me!” Enid cried, holding her neck and propping Divina up on her hip. “I didn’t even do anything to her!”

Wednesday gave what sounded like a genuine chuckle of amusement. Enid glared at her before wrapping her arms around Divina again. Of course Wednesday would reap pleasure from Enid’s suffering at the hands of a baby. Enid expected nothing less from someone who had a personal stash of knives and grenades at her disposal.

After a few minutes of rocking Divina in an attempt to lull her to sleep while Wednesday skimmed over the spell book, Enid felt Divina squirm in her arms as she lifted her head and lazily brought her hand to the top of Enid’s hoodie. She tugged at it and threw her face into the collar, little lips latching around the fabric and suckling.

“Ew, Divina!” Enid complained. “You’re drooling again!”

Fixing her mouth tighter around Enid’s hoodie, Divina nuzzled the fabric with her pink nose. She released the collar and allowed her hand to take permanent residency on the front of the hoodie, still pulling at it while her mouth continued to work for something that wasn’t coming. 

“What are you doing?” Enid asked Divina, trying to pull her hand away. “Divina, stop sucking on my clothes.” 

Wednesday looked up again. This was becoming infuriating. Her writing hour was dangerously close and she had gotten nowhere.

“I do believe she is rooting for food,” she said to Enid. 

When Enid raised an eyebrow, she figured it was best to elaborate. 

“When an infant, especially one not intaking solids, is hungry, it will nuzzle with its nose in search of something to latch onto to feed,” she explained. “She’s searching for milk.”

Enid swapped Divina to her other hip, hoping it would pry her away from her hoodie, but Divina only latched onto the opposite shoulder and pushed her face into Enid’s neck.

“Well, unless you have milk to give her, I think one of us is gonna have to get her something to eat,” Enid said and ran a hand through Divina’s hair. “Right, little one? You hungry?”

“I volunteer you to visit the canteen and bring back something liquid and mushy for her to eat,” Wednesday said. “I suppose I will have to mind the cretin again. She was very compliant the last time you left.”

“Nope,” Enid immediately replied. “I got the diapers. You can get some food for her. Besides, I think you’d rather have an excuse to leave than stay here with a baby crying for food. You get overstimulated very easily. And this is a team effort.”

Enid did have more than just one point, and although Wednesday was desperately floundering for a spell reversal, she was becoming a bit too stuffy in this room with her bubbly roommate and a sniffling infant who was latching onto anything in hopes of drawing forth any milk. 

Still, she didn’t quite agree with Enid’s insistence that this was a team effort. She didn’t enjoy teamwork. Teamwork was what got her wrapped into this tangled web to begin with, and she could’ve gone the rest of her miserable life without it. 

“Fine,” she finally and reluctantly agreed as she closed the book and stood up. “I suppose I will fetch something for her novice mouth to eat. She does seem old enough for soft solids, though I don’t think cows milk is good for her stomach.”

Shrugging, Enid bounced fussy Divina in her arms. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

Enid watched while Wednesday pulled on her jacket and stepped into her shoes. There was a determined look on the seer’s face, like she was replaying the events of the evening. Her forehead creased with strain as she bent down to tie her shoes. 

“Wait,” Enid said when Wednesday opened the door to leave. “Is this the part when you go out for milk and don’t come back?”

The crease in Wednesday’s forehead deepened, that determined look in her eye only straining further. 

Enid stopped laughing. “Never mind.” 

—

WEDNESDAY

The canteen was busier than usual, being a Friday evening. Dinner was drawing to a close, leaving Wednesday with very minimal time to gather what she thought Divina could swallow and rush back to their dorm without anyone becoming wise to her presence. 

Weems was forgiving about students taking food up to their dorms, so long as they threw away their trash and returned the dishes and silverware back to the canteen by the next mealtime. Even if she hadn’t been, Wednesday still would have plucked what she wanted and hoped not to be apprehended by her principal again.

Wednesday slipped past everyone and grabbed a tray, surveying what was left at her disposal. She picked up a single-serve milk carton from the crates sitting in the small refrigerator, deciding that it would be enough for Divina for the night. 

There was very little to choose from, the entirety of the food having been taken by the werewolves who needed more nutrients than most of the students. Even the fruit was nothing but a few bruised apples and rotting bananas. 

Wednesday sighed and grabbed an applesauce cup and a spoon, setting them on the tray and moving over to the bread. Everything was practically just crumbs and a few stale dinner rolls at the bottom of the pan. She took a paper napkin and used it to poke one of the crescent rolls, finding it to be somewhat soft and fresh. She deposited it onto the tray and continued browsing through the leftovers. Enid would be appreciative of it, as a little treat for complying with Wednesday’s stubborn refusal to seek help from anyone who could’ve told her that she was a mediocre spell-caster.

The tray almost flew out of her hands when a cold hand braced her shoulder. She whipped around and bumped into a table of vegetables, almost knocking over a pot of green beans growing cold. 

“Easy,” Yoko said. “Just who I wanted to see.”

Yoko was missing her sunglasses, as night had already fallen over Vermont and the room was fairly dark, affording Wednesday a rare glimpse into those eyes that flashed gold when Yoko was angry or upset. 

“Have you seen Divina?” asked Yoko. She was fidgeting, something she didn’t often do. “She was supposed to meet me here, like, an hour ago. I called and texted her, but she didn’t answer. She’s ignoring Kent, too. It’s just really weird. I’m worried about her.”

“I haven’t seen her since after we completed our spell for class,” she immediately replied. “It was a success, and then she left. Nothing seemed amiss with her. In fact, she said she was excited to meet you for dinner. I’ve not the finest idea why; this place is absolutely horrid.”

“You were the last to see her,” said Yoko, eyes taking in all of Wednesday. “Her roommate said she never came back, Kent and Bianca haven’t seen her, she’s not responding to me. This has never happened before. I’m worried that something happened to her.”

“Perhaps she went for a swim at the lake,” she suggested. “I’m sure she also enjoys peace and quiet at times, even as loud as she is.”

Yoko shook her head. “No, she would’ve told me or someone. And she would’ve invited Kent. She doesn’t like to go alone. She has to go with him so she feels safe. There are things out there, ya know?”

Of course Wednesday knew. She had come face-to-face and lips-to-lips with one of those things. Yoko would have been a fool to forget something like that. Wednesday could count on one hand how many days since the blood moon that she hadn’t been reminded of what had happened. She thought of Enid’s scars, recalled the absolute pain that was being stabbed in the stomach, dreamed of Crackstone returning to finish what he started. 

There were days when she wished the Hyde would have killed her. There were even more days when she wished she hadn’t ever been born at all. 

“I’m unsure of what you want me to say, Yoko,” she said, shaking her head. “She was fine when she left. Now, if you’ll excuse yourself, I have to bring this up to Enid.”

Worried, Yoko looked at the tray. Her eyebrows creased in the middle.

“Enid hates applesauce. The texture makes her gag,” she said to Wednesday. “And that’s prison food. She needs protein.”

“This is what she requested,” Wednesday argued. “She would have come down to eat, but she has a headache. I’m doing a simple favor by bringing her sad beige foods for her to easily consume.” 

Yoko would have debated with her more if she weren’t so concerned about Divina’s whereabouts. She nodded and silently turned around to return to the table she was sharing with Kent and Bianca, who were exchanging whispers and giving Wednesday suspicious glances. 

Wednesday was definitely going to have to get even craftier if she wanted this to slip under the radar. Her first plan of action was to keep Divina quiet and unassuming by any means possible, even at the cost of Wednesday’s insomnia. 

She was going to get away with this, and Enid was a fool if she thought otherwise. 

Chapter Text

Enid was running out of entertainment to keep Divina occupied while Wednesday went out to find something appropriate for her little stomach to digest. She had tickled Divina’s legs and feet until the baby became bored of it and took interest in one of Enid’s stuffed animals. She tried gripping onto the plush elephant, but it was too large for her hands and fell to the floor. 

“Uh-oh,” Enid cooed as she picked up the elephant and offered it to Divina, tapping her tiny button nose with the trunk. “You like it? You like elephants?”

Diving took one of the ears into her mouth and gummed on it. Enid sighed and observed her, trying to reconcile with the fact that her precious belongings were now being mutilated and slobbered on by a small human with an IQ of 100. Her collection was quite pricey, and she hated to watch Divina abuse it with her mouth, but she supposed it was better than any alternatives. 

The only thing that mattered then was the fact that Divina was quiet and calm and not rousing any of their neighbors. Their new dorm mother would have an absolute fit if she knew about any of this, and Weems would explode on Wednesday for being so irresponsible. Maybe Wednesday deserved to be reprimanded, at the very least, but Enid couldn’t fathom that. Wednesday had already suffered a great deal in the past few months, and all Enid wanted was for her roomie to catch a break that didn’t involve her chasing after what she swore was a stalker or playing her cello until her fingers snapped.

“Do you like peekaboo?” Enid asked Divina. “I’m sure you do! All babies like peekaboo!” 

Animatedly moving her arms like she was going to tickle her again, Enid helped Divina sit up against the pillows so her head would stop wobbling. After a quickly google search, Enid had found that a baby’s head sometimes bobbled even after reaching the milestone of holding it up on their own, because it accounted for most of their weight and sometimes made them lose their balance. Or maybe Divina was purposely doing it to scare Enid. 

“Ready?” Enid asked, covering both of her eyes. “Peekaboo. . .” 

Divina tilted her head, confused by Enid’s actions, and then Enid removed her hands. 

“I see you!” she exclaimed. Siren eyes stared into hers, the game clearly having yielded no reaction from Divina. “Hm. You don’t think that’s funny? All babies think peekaboo is funny.” 

Divina was salivating all over her hands again. She was becoming bored rather quickly, and boredom usually meant tears for her, so Enid covered her eyes again in an attempt to keep her distracted, at least until her dinner arrived, and then hopefully bedtime would easily follow with a full belly. 

“Peekaboo. . .” Enid sang, keeping her eyes closed for an absurd amount of time before lifting her hands. “I see you!”

The last thing Enid expected when she opened her eyes was Divina’s hands flying to her forehead. She flinched as two slobbery fists smashed right into her skull and caught in blonde hair. 

“Ow!” she cried. “Stop it, Divina! Bad little baby! Bad!”

Divina giggled and violently tugged, almost ripping the hair directly from Enid’s roots. Enid flailed and reached up to grab her little arms and pried the fingers away from her hair, but as she drew back, Divina caught on again and continued to pull.

The door clicked open, and Enid gave a sigh of relief although she couldn’t lift her head. Wednesday’s presence was comforting without even being announced. Enid could simply feel her. There was an aura about her that brought forth comfort and peace, even in a situation as drastic at this. Whenever Wednesday was nearby, Enid could relax and soak up the atmosphere, knowing that she was safe and Wednesday was safe and—

“Enid,” Wednesday coldly said. “Stop fooling around and provide this baby with nourishment so that I might get through a chapter tonight.” 

Enid groaned. Divina pulled. Wednesday glared.

“Um, I’m kinda in a situation here?” Enid smarted off to her. “You could, I dunno, help me?” 

“I did help you,” Wednesday replied and placed the tray on Enid’s desk. “I brought a milk carton and a cup of applesauce for the cretin, and for you, I brought a somewhat fresh bread roll. I would eat it quickly; it was already going stale.”

If Enid weren’t being violently yanked and slapped by tiny hands, she would have recognized the way her heart skipped a beat. Wednesday was being kind to her and even somewhat thoughtful, and beyond saving Enid and the other outcasts that night, she wasn’t someone who could have been branded as kind or thoughtful. Yet, she had selected one of Enid’s weaknesses from the canteen and served it to her on a silver tray, as if she had been thinking of her. 

“You didn’t have to get anything for me—ow!” 

Wednesday eyed her roommate, both annoyed and bemused by the way Enid made a scene of struggling to fight her hair out of Divina’s hands. She didn’t laugh; she wasn’t a laughing type of person. But watching the pair bicker over who got to keep Enid’s hair made the slightest twitches at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. She refused to smile or exhibit any sign that she might have found amusement in the situation. 

“Divina,” Wednesday finally said as she worked her fingers around the baby’s. “Release Enid’s hair. You cretin.”

Finally, Divina unwrapped her fingers from the tousled blonde hair and shoved her fist in her mouth. She suckled on it for a moment as Enid lifted her head and ran her hands through her hair only to find it to be extremely wet. 

“Bad baby,” Enid repeated, glaring at Divina, who gave her a toothless grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“She may be quite annoying, but infants do not have a sense of self until around 18 months of age,” Wednesday pointed out. “They don’t exactly realize that the reactions they receive are a direct result of their own actions. It’s very impressive that the first 18 months of a human’s life are essentially lawless and almost nonexistent. We are merely sacks of skin with a brain. Divina has absolutely no idea that she exists in the world, and she therefore doesn’t understand that she’s hurting you.”

Enid raised an eyebrow. “Are you adding baby whisperer onto your resume?”

“I fell down a rabbit hole while I was researching a hyde’s development process,” Wednesday admitted, forehead creasing again. A look of focus fixed its way onto her face. “The introductory chapter was a debrief on the human existence and how our brains are shaped and developed beginning at birth. It was noted that a human doesn’t have any self awareness until 18 months. They won’t recognize that their body correlates to their own actions, or that their actions cause reactions in others until then. Whereas for a Hyde. . .”

Wednesday paused and looked around the room. Enid’s eyes followed her, intently observing her body language. Dark pink lips tightened into a frown of concentration and brown eyes clouded with something unsavory. She was struggling to think and remember; to remember what it looked like, what it sounded like, what it smelled like. 

“Yeah, I know,” Enid said, even if she didn’t know. “I know. It’s okay.”

Wednesday didn’t want to discuss it anymore. She was beginning to think of Tyler again, which was something she had chosen to prevent from resurfacing. There were little glimpses, of course, during those moments when she would lay completely still on her bed and stare at the ceiling until she began to hallucinate. Sometimes she saw him in his human form, but more often than not, he was just a monster. He was a monster, and he manipulated her. He didn’t love her; it could have been argued that he didn’t even like her. 

It was Thornhill’s fault for taking advantage of someone prone to manipulation. It was Sheriff Galpin’s fault for sweeping his son’s identity under the rug and shielding him from the truth of what he could’ve and had become. It was Tyler’s fault for stringing Wednesday along and puppeteering her for Thornhill’s gain. 

Everyone was at fault; everyone except Enid. Enid was a pure, gentle soul who meant no harm to anyone. She was exceptionally kind to Wednesday even when she probably deserved to be shunned or ignored. Sometimes she would get worked up when things weren’t going her way, like the day she had decided to leave Ajax, but for the most part, she was easygoing and made a nice companion for someone as morose and gloomy as Wednesday. 

Enid, who was preoccupied with a babbling infant, meant no one any harm. She was innocent and untainted and perfect and—

“Wednesday?” 

She jolted, feeling physically warm. Enid had Divina in her lap, bouncing her as she looked at Wednesday with mild concern.

“Yes?” she asked.

“You spaced out,” she replied. “You were staring.”

“Sorry,” she quickly said, turning away from Enid so she wouldn’t have to make contact with blue eyes again. “I’m going to return to my reading. The quicker I can find a solution, the quicker we can return to normal.”

It was past seven. Her writing hour had already begun, and yet she was still there, curled up in her armchair with a large and heavy book in her lap. The table of contents was long, the introductory page even longer. The first chapter was a huge letdown. She would have much rather been typing away on her typewriter and working on Viper’s latest escapades, but she also didn’t want to care for a baby for the rest of her days. She had to make a choice, even if it sickened her and made spiders crawl in her stomach. 

Enid sat Divina down against the pillows and opened the applesauce cup. She gave a tentative sniff and scrunched up her face. Divina’s eyes caught sight of it as a string of drool trailed down her chest. 

“Look what I have,” Enid sang as she grabbed the spoon. “Dinner!”

The first spoonful was a big success, though most of it ended up on the front of Divina’s—Enid’s—shirt. Divina happily accepted it and opened her mouth for a second, but as the third was brought to her lips, she closed her mouth and squirmed around. 

“Open wide! Here comes the airplane!” Enid animatedly said, making an airplane noise as she offered Divina the spoon again. “Open! It’s good!”

Divina clenched her lips even tighter and physically shook her head. Enid frowned and looked to Wednesday, who was nibbling at her thumbnail as she read over another chapter.

“Wednesday,” she whined. “I know she’s hungry, but she won’t eat any more of it. I think she’s doing it on purpose.”

Wednesday refused to break her concentration, deciding to speak to her roommate between reading words on the page.

“Infants are incapable of manipulation, unlike children and adults,” she said. “Perhaps she’s full, or maybe she would like you to demonstrate for her.”

Enid’s eyes narrowed at the applesauce. She stirred it a little to see if Divina would take any interest in it, but the baby only squirmed and shook her head again. 

“Fine. Watch me, Divina,” Enid cautiously said as she brought the spoon to her lips. She took a deep breath and spooned it into her reluctant mouth. Not a second later, she spat it out into a napkin with a gag. “Ew!”

Giggling to herself, Divina clapped her hands and continued to shake her head. 

Enid eyed Wednesday and recognized the faint smirk on her face. 

“You are evil,” she told her.

Wednesday almost smiled. “I’m an opportunist.” 

Returning her attention to the task at hand, Enid attempted to feed Divina one more time, but Divina was too wriggly and kept flailing her arms at the wolf. Soon, the baby took interest in Wednesday, fixating her eyes on her and suddenly outreaching her hands towards the unsuspecting girl. 

“Aw, Wednesday,” Enid cooed. “She wants you.” 

Wednesday’s eyes immediately moved up. “Well, I don’t want her.”

Enid frowned. “That’s not nice. She’s just a baby. Maybe if you hold her and I feed her, she’ll actually eat.”

That did not sound at all pleasant for Wednesday. She squirmed in her seat and brought her book to her chest. Enid was already scooping Divina up, the applesauce in her opposite hand.

“I have reading to do,” Wednesday quickly said as Enid approached her with that slobbery thing. “I don’t have time to—“

Suddenly there was a 15-pound infant plopped into her lap, replacing her spell book. She almost shrieked in disgust as Divina immediately leaned back against her chest and nestled against her. She didn’t dare touch her, not wanting to be manhandled by slippery, sticky baby hands. 

“Enid, have you no boundaries?” she snapped. “I told you that I’m reading.”

“But this is a team effort, and she clearly wants you,” she pointed out, gesturing to a cooing Divina. “Look how happy she is.”

“Take it back.”

“No,” Enid said as she sank to her knees so she was at eye level with siren eyes. She grinned at her. “Hi there! You want Wednesday to hold you? I’m sure you do!”

Divina bounced in Wednesday’s lap and threw her head back so hard, it hit Wednesday’s chin. Wednesday groaned to herself and hoisted the little one upright in her lap, swearing to herself in Spanish.

“Feed her,” Wednesday demanded Enid. “And if she dirties my sweater, you’ll be working to pay for another.” 

Enid noted the slight falter in Wednesday’s voice that told her she wasn’t entirely serious. She smiled and scooped some applesauce onto the spoon, lifting it up to Divina again. The baby sniffed it like a dog and opened her mouth to allow Enid to feed her. She accepted it with ease, most of it in her mouth rather than all over her body. 

“See?” Enid cooed, booping Divina’s nose. “Isn’t that good? Auntie Enid hates it, but it’s so good!”

Wednesday’s grip tightened around Divina’s wriggly waist. She was unintentionally slipping into that realm of semi-consciousness wherein she felt somewhat aware of her surroundings yet so detached from reality. Enid called it “spacing out,” but it felt more than that. It was debilitating and infuriating to know that it couldn’t have been prevented by electroshock therapy or the satisfying residual ache of a lobotomy. It was something entirely different, something she hadn’t experienced prior to her brush with death. 

It was emptiness. She felt empty and hallow, devoid of life. And while the gloom was very normal and her birthright, the void inside of her was gaping larger and larger each day. 

She felt so little, that Divina’s excited bouncing went unnoticed until her head hit Wednesday’s chest again. Wednesday rapidly blinked and came to again, finding Divina nuzzling her sticky face into her neck as she twisted her body to get a better grip on the expensive sweater Wednesday wore. 

Enid beamed, but it was difficult to tell if it was at Divina or Wednesday.

“She finished it!” Enid excitedly announced. “See? You really are a baby whisperer.”

“I’m no such thing,” she replied, lifting Divina to hand her off to Enid. “Now prop her up with her milk somewhere and get her to sleep so I can read in peace.”

After discarding the empty applesauce cup, Enid carried Divina back to her side of the room and went to prepare the bottle of milk, but the task proved difficult with a whiny, sleepy baby on her hip. Divina rubbed at her red-rimmed eyes and latched onto the strings of Enid’s hoodie. 

“I know you want milk,” Enid shushed her as she poured the milk from the carton into the bottle. “After this, it’s bedtime for you, sleepy girl.” 

Divina sleepily cooed and made sniffling noises as she continued to bury her nose in Enid’s chest. Enid sat back against her pillows and made herself comfortable with the baby cradled in one arm, Divina’s head supported in the crook of her elbow. She brought the bottle nipple to Divina’s lips and tried to work it into her mouth, but a little hand swatted at it. 

“Drink your milk,” Enid said, shifting her to a more comfortable position. “Come on. Drink your milk and go to sleep. It’s late for babies to be awake. It’s bedtime.”

While Enid was struggling to convince Divina to accept the bottle, Wednesday was studying the book’s glossary. She had yet to find anything useful, and it was becoming an infuriating piece of work when accompanied with Enid’s shushing and coaxing Divina to take the milk.

“Divina, please just take it,” Enid begged. Divina hesitated, eyeing the bottle once before batting at it again. “Please? It’s just milk. It’s good for you.”

Wednesday curled further into herself and attempted to focus despite the silly altercation happening across the room, and then something occurred to her. She sat up a little and tilted her head at Enid, watching Divina refuse to take the bottle from her hands. 

“I think the spell I accidentally casted was meant to revert someone back to the exact way they had been at that particular point in time,” she told Enid. “Her behaviors may not make sense in our world because the circumstances aren’t what they were then.” 

Enid startled, and the bottle dropped into Divina’s lap. The baby angrily kicked it away until it rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a thump. 

“So?” Enid asked, moving a whiny Divina so she was sitting up in her lap. “What does that mean?”

“She’s rejecting the bottle now, which could be a sign that she was breastfed then,” Wednesday surmised as she grabbed her nearest notepad and pen and began to scribble something down. “This is quite fascinating. The choices made in the past still have some effects on the future. While we are all currently physically in the present, her needs and personality are still in the past. My theory was that the spell caused a rift in the past timeline wherein the ties between body and personality would split as to have the chance for a do-over before sending them back to the past timeline. I thought what we do now would affect the future. But I think I may be wrong; maybe it’s the opposite. It’s quite confusing. There is no point of a spell of this sort if not to have a second chance to correct mistakes. I thought it would mean a clean slate, that anything that had happened before wouldn’t matter now. Perhaps I’m wrong.” 

“I don’t think so,” Enid said. She picked up the bottle. “I’m pretty sure that both she and Kent were bottle fed. They were adopted at birth by their birth parents’ friends.”

Wednesday paused before striking through her notes and setting aside her notepad. “Well, then she is simply a brat.” 

Divina shrieked and twisted herself around in Enid’s arms, peeking up at Wednesday from her shoulder. She gave her a gummy, wet grin and reached out to her again. Her fists rapidly opened and closed. 

“Aw, she wants you again,” Enid gushed. “Maybe you can get her to take it.” 

“Maybe she can starve tonight,” Wednesday immediately retorted, picking up her book. “I have work to do.”

The next time she looked up, half a second later, Enid was standing over her with baby and bottle in hand. She scowled and resumed reading, disregarding the pouting werewolf and the pitiful baby whimpering to gain her attention.

“Don’t be a deadbeat baby daddy, Wednesday,” Enid complained. “It takes two to tango, you know.”

Wednesday’s jaw parted at the gall Enid had when it came to her jokes and teasing. It wasn’t that the vast majority of them were lewd; no, it was that they often rendered her speechless. 

“I took no part in creating her, and neither did you, for that matter,” she finally snapped at Enid, who hardly flinched. 

“Technically, you did,” Enid coolly replied with a shrug. “You did more work that I did. So here, take your baby and feed her before she starves.”

Grunting her disapproval, Wednesday grabbed onto her book but didn’t resume reading. Enid was obscuring the yellow glow of the lamp above her head, leaving her hair a messy halo around her cheeks. 

“You are more than capable,” she told Enid. “If I’m going to be the one putting in effort to fix this, the least you could do is mind the cretin until then.”

Enid was affronted by the tone Wednesday was using with her. Of course the situation had to be embarrassingly humiliating for her, but Enid didn’t think that posed as any excuse to brush her off with harsh words and scowls. 

She didn’t want to yell; not at Wednesday and definitely not in front of a baby. But she strongly considered it, because maybe it had worked on Wednesday the first time and softened up her sharp edges. Still, she tried to keep her composure, adjusting fussy Divina in her arms so she could look directly at the seer, who wasn’t paying her any mind. 

Yelling wasn’t the way to go in this situation when Wednesday was so pent up and bothered, but a little firmness wouldn’t hurt.

“Wednesday, I’m helping you because I want you to have the experience that you so desperately want to have because you think it’s important, but I could do with a little help here,” she firmly told her, leaving no room for wavering. “I could’ve easily went to Faye or Weems about this already, but I’m choosing not to because I have faith in you. I could have stuck you with this and gone to room with Yoko to comfort her about Divina going missing, but I didn’t.”

Wednesday was halfway to furious. She dropped her book and glared at Enid. 

“Are you trying to guilt trip or blackmail me?” she asked. “Because if you are, I’m glad to see that my skills have left an impression on you.”

Enid frowned. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she had been rooting for.

“You are infuriating, you know that?” Enid asked with a soft scoff. “You can’t keep dodging responsibility. I could get in trouble for helping you, maybe even expelled! But I’m still doing it.”

Passively, Wednesday averted her eyes to the window. “And why do you feel so compelled to help me? Is it because that’s what friends do?”

Her words hit Enid like a sharp blow to the chest. They hadn’t argued like this since the night she had packed up what little essentials she had and booked it for Yoko’s room after using a very sharp tongue to cut through Wednesday’s tough exterior. In some ways, she was apologetic about it. In others, she wasn’t. Sometimes Wednesday needed a little tough love. 

Love. She didn’t want to think about that. Not when she was trying to lecture Wednesday, not ever. 

“Yes, that’s what friends do,” she replied. “And believe it or not, I’m one of the only people here who you can call a friend. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It just means most people think that your behaviors and interests are strange, and they don’t believe me when I defend you, but that’s okay, because I know you, and I also know that you don’t actually want to hurt anyone.”

Wednesday mutely turned away from the window and looked down at her book. The words morphed from English to German. She didn’t know German.

“You are also infuriating,” she quietly told Enid. “This is another one of your manipulation tactics, isn’t it? Admirable of you.” 

“If me telling the truth is manipulation, then call me a manipulator,” Enid said dismissively. “But you can’t shirk responsibility for something you did. I’m helping you because I want to, not just because I’m obligated to by being your roommate or friend. I know you think that everyone hates you, but I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest. If I did hate you, I’d make a huge deal out of this and have you expelled.” 

“I don’t care if you hate me,” Wednesday replied. She felt nauseated and feverish, and why couldn’t she simply read in peace? “You can run and tell Faye if that’s really what you want.”

That wasn’t what Enid wanted. She didn’t want Wednesday to face repercussions for hiding this from anyone of importance, or for her ego to be bruised when she had to admit that she failed. That was why Enid was pushing so hard to see this through, not because she felt a weird fluttering in her stomach every time she looked at her.

“I’m not going to,” Enid said. “But you need to do your part. You can’t stick me with her just so you can read that huge book that’s gonna take you a month to get through.” 

Wednesday growled loud enough to startle Divina, who had been oddly smiling into Enid’s shoulder. She lifted her wobbly head and whimpered, flailing her arms out again. 

“Give me the cretin,” Wednesday finally conceded and placed her book on the side table. “I will do this once and you will never speak of it again.”

Enid was almost mortified by the jarring compliance Wednesday showed her. She quickly sat Divina into Wednesday’s lap and offered the seer the bottle. Wednesday sneered at it for a moment before tipping back a very whiny Divina in her arms and getting her situated against her chest. She ran the nipple over her lips until a bead of milk bubbled to the surface. Divina lapped at it, testing the taste and temperature. Her babysitters had argued so long that the milk had become room temperature, just as an infant liked it. She latched on with greed and her little eyelids fluttered closed as she nestled into Wednesday. 

“She likes you,” Enid fondly whispered to Wednesday. “She’s so relaxed.”

Wednesday glanced down at Divina, feeling her weight go limp in her arms. The baby was still suckling away, though the rhythmic motions were slowly tapering off every half minute or so, and Wednesday watched the dimpling of her chubby cheeks undulate until they almost completely stilled. 

“I don’t care what anyone says,” Enid quietly said. “You’re really gentle.”

That angry line in Wednesday’s forehead creased. “Speak of this and I will take all nine of your lives at once.”

Enid chuckled and continued to observe Wednesday, who was settling into the motion of carefully easing the bottle away until Divina slightly roused and pulled it back with her mouth. That went on for a good 15 minutes, until there was nothing but an ounce left in the bottle and Divina had gone completely flaccid, a dribble of milk traveling down her chin. 

“Find a suitable place for her to sleep,” Wednesday quietly demanded Enid. “I have some newspaper in my trunk. Perhaps that will suffice.”

Enid’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. “She’s not sleeping on a newspaper.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Wednesday blinked at her. “If she were to sleep in either of our beds—which she will not be sleeping in mine—she will surely roll off and crack open her skull.” 

After a moment of pondering, Enid snapped her fingers. 

“Watch this,” she said, turning to rush into their shared bathroom. “Just one minute!” 

Her rectangular laundry basket sat next to Wednesday’s on the floor, a bold contrast between preppy and bright and dark and depressing. She dumped out her dirty clothes onto the floor and moved back into their room, earning a concerned stare from Wednesday, who was still trapped under sleeping Divina.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wednesday whispered.

“Something smart.”

Enid folded one of her smallest fleece blankets into a rectangle and lined the bottom of the basket with it to create a makeshift bed. She sat it on the floor beside her bed and tiptoed over to Wednesday. 

“See?” she said, gesturing to the basket. “Now she won’t fall off my bed or have to sleep on the cold floor like a dog.”

Wednesday was mildly impressed by Enid’s survival skills, but she refused to admit that. Instead she looked up at Enid and admired her under the yellow glow.

“I suppose you want me to carry her to bed,” she told Enid. 

“Well, I don’t wanna move her twice and wake her up,” Enid reasoned. “It’ll be easier if you do it.”

She was too smart for her own good.

“Fine,” Wednesday readily complied, already beginning to stand up with Divina limply cradled in her arms. “But this is the last effort I’m putting into this for tonight. You are on your own until sunrise.” 

With a definitive smirk that would’ve gotten her slapped if Wednesday had noticed, Enid watched her roommate carry Divina across the room as if she were holding something fragile. Maybe Divina was fragile, even with the speculation that babies were more resilient than people gave them credit for.

“She’s not a bomb,” Enid giggled. 

Wednesday tensed and swiveled around, halfway to the basket. “I’ve held a bomb. This is far more terrifying.”

The next few steps were agony for Wednesday as her heart pounded. She made it to the basket and kneeled to the floor, slowly easing sleeping Divina into her makeshift crib. The infant stirred and her eyelids fluttered, causing Wednesday’s breathing to halt midway out, but then she settled and unconsciously brought her fist to her mouth to suckle on. 

“I need to find a blanket to cover her with,” Enid said. “It’s kinda cold.”

“You’d be risking Sudden Infant Death Syndrome by giving her a blanket,” Wednesday plainly said as she retired to her chair again. “It could cover her face and cause her to asphyxiate in her sleep. SIDS is silent and the number one cause of death in human infants under a year old.”

Enid raised an eyebrow. “How do you know all this?”

“Rabbit hole,” she shortly reminded, grabbing her book. “Now that she’s asleep, I expect silence for the remainder of the evening. It’s already been ruined by my mishap, and I need to seek answers.”

Enid nodded, watching Wednesday finally relax after her stressful escapade. 

“I’m going to have a shower. I have baby germs on me,” she quietly told her. “She peed on me earlier.”

“Whatever pleases you, Enid.”

—

The rest of the evening passed in silence. Wednesday had managed to flip through a few helpful chapters and take some notes by the time lights out rolled around, but it wasn’t enough to satiate her thirst for knowledge—and for her dorm to become baby-free. 

She spent the majority of the night intermittently sleeping and waking to what sounded like someone or something attempting to pry its way into their room via the window, but every time she sat up with one of her knives clutched in her hand, the room was as undisturbed as could be. 

Rain pelted the window and lightning struck twice. The rumble of Thunder didn’t wake the slumbering baby contently nestled into her falsified crib with her tiny nose pressed up against one of the slats. Wednesday blinked a few times at her and watched until her little abdomen rose and fell a few times before she settled back into bed and slid her knife under her pillow where it belonged.

Somewhere in that realm between wake and sleep, there was a thump followed by sniffling and a loud wail of distress. Wednesday immediately bolted upright in bed and took hold of her knife, pointing it outwards. When it didn’t puncture anything, she opened her eyes to find the laundry basket upturned with Divina trapped inside. The poor thing was trapped like a caged animal, wailing and smacking her hands against the floor. 

Wednesday dropped her knife on the ground and rushed to Divina’s aide. She had cleaned up the evidence of the spell long before, which was the only reason she didn’t trip and bust her jaw open on the floor. 

By the time Wednesday got to Divina and yanked the laundry basket and blanket off her, Enid was already scrambling out of bed and turning on her bedside lamp to fill the room with a comforting burst of yellow. 

“What the hell happened?” Enid asked, adjusting her pajamas so her chest wasn’t exposed to Wednesday. “Did she roll out?”

“I think so,” Wednesday said as she bent down to lift sobbing Divina up. She studied her for a moment, noting a minimal red splotch of color on her bottom lip. “Her lip may be bruised later, but she isn’t bleeding and she didn’t seem to have hit her head.” 

“Let me have her,” Enid said, already grabbing Divina from Wednesday and bringing her to her chest. “Please don’t cry, Divina. You’ll wake Yoko up.”

No one wanted to wake Yoko for any reason, because that was just asking for major trouble, but they couldn’t afford to wake her this time. Wednesday would have a lot to pay and even more to explain if anyone were to catch wind of what she had done. 

“Silence her,” she frantically told Enid. “No one can know of this.”

With a flippant look, Enid swayed around the room and patted Divina’s bottom. She probably could have gone for a change, but that didn’t seem to be the root of the upset as her cries replaced soft suckling noises when her lips caught onto the skin of Enid’s collarbone. Enid nuzzled her nose into the tuft of dark hair atop Divina’s head and wiped the stream of tears from her cheeks. 

“I think she’s hungry again,” Enid whispered to Wednesday. “She’s still really little. I think babies need to eat every few hours.” 

Wednesday hadn’t thought that far. She was taking this one wobbly step at a time, hoping each would be her last, but as minutes turned into hours, she became uncertain and somewhat fearful of what was to follow. 

“How do you suppose we are meant to feed her?” Wednesday asked. The bottle was sitting clean and empty on Enid’s desk. “She consumed everything before bed.” 

Divina made snuffling sounds against Enid’s shoulder. Her mouth worked overtime to draw milk and frowned when the only thing satisfying its need to suckle was skin. 

“She’s fussy again,” Enid told Wednesday, rocking the baby in her arms. “She’s doing that thing.”

“Rooting,” she corrected, then paused. “Wait here with her. I will be back soon.”

There was doubt in her voice, or maybe she was just exhausted from the day’s events. Either way, Enid was not confident that her roommate would return any time soon, especially when she put her slippers on. Sometimes she wore them out on the balcony during a midnight cello session, and other times when she visited the Nightshades library to browse their collection after being hit with a wave of insomnia. 

“Don’t look so pitiful,” Wednesday said. “I’m going to find something for the cretin to eat so she doesn’t draw attention to my mistake.”

“So you admit you made a mistake,” Enid replied, moving Divina to her shoulder shoulder so she could have a fresh patch of flesh to suckle. “Hell has frozen over.”

Wednesday grunted. “What does not exist—“

“Cannot freeze over,” she completed, smiling when Wednesday relaxed a bit. “I know. Nonbeliever.”

Unlike most people who curled their lip in disgust at the pentacle around Wednesday’s neck, Enid understood. Wednesday despised that about her. She was just too eager to accept Wednesday and her myriad of quirks and qualities that made even the average outcast find her too odd. Wednesday wondered why, but she couldn’t dwell on that right then. That would be another thought to keep her awake at night between nightmares of the Hyde. 

“I’ll be back,” she promised, quietly heading for the door. “She might be due for a change. You know where the duct tape is.”

“In your trunk,” Enid said, tilting her head. “No one is allowed to touch it.”

Wednesday hesitated. “I’m making an exception.”

An exception for you, she thought as she left the room. 

—

A warm draft filtered through the vents as the furnace kicked on. Wednesday tightened her sweatshirt around herself and covered her shoulders, understanding what it meant to feel cold and alone. 

She was in a liminal space that consisted of only her as she descended the stairs to the main floor of Nevermore. The canteen and kitchen were on the other side of the school, far past the dorms and halls. It was going to take a lot of stealth and too many steps to arrive there without alerting any of the staff or guards who might’ve been patrolling the halls. 

There was an ominous flickering of the candles aligned with the walls. The staff lit them after dark, before lights out, and snuffed them out at sunrise. It was meant to generate more heat than what the old furnace could provide, but it also provided a light source for someone wandering about at night. Someone like Wednesday. 

In the quad, the fountain ran. Wednesday peeked around the corner and took a moment to listen to the water filling the stone basin at the base of it. It was faint yet loud enough to draw her attention. There was something ethereal about it; no one was there and the only sign of life was that of the water flowing into the basin. It felt so much different without chatter and laughter overlapping the waterfall, like this was its resting state, the way it was meant to be. 

Snow collected around the edges and the water was nearly frozen at the bottom, almost like slush. During the day, the snow would melt to tiny particles of shaved ice and become disrupted by footsteps and siren hands trying to get a feel for the pure water that fell from the sky in little flakes. During the night, it fell freely and landed on the tip of Wednesday’s nose. 

When the snowflake melted, Wednesday took a breath and continued on past the quad to reach the left wing of the school, where the canteen and classrooms were. She was accustomed to the solitude that accompanied her solo journeys through the school after-hours, but something was eerie and off about the way the flames danced in shadows across the walls. 

A hallway stretched impossibly long, so far down that Wednesday couldn’t see who—or what—was at the end of it. A tall, ominous shadow stretched along the marble floor underneath Wednesday as it seemed to cave in from under her, or maybe that was a falter in her knees brought on by fear. If Tyler had escaped and sought to finish what he started, perhaps she would have been just fine with sinking to her knees and succumbing to the fate that she should have been served months ago.

Yet, it didn’t look like his shadow. She knew his, couldn’t forget it for a single moment. If she were tasked with writing an entire essay on the Hyde’s shadow alone, she would score perfectly on it. 

If she held her breath, which had become a frequent habit as of late, she could hear clacking. Not of a typewriter or keyboard like on Enid’s laptop, but something else. They were deep and even, never missing a single beat as they drew nearer and the shadow elongated until the apex of it was wafting right over Wednesday’s head. 

She didn’t realized she had been tracking the shadow reaching her until she saw two familiar high heels standing before her. Her head lifted the slightest bit and her eyes caught onto two blue ones filled with yellow flames.

“Miss Addams, what do you think you’re doing roaming around so late?”

Of course Principal Weems had to apprehend her. That woman both refused to quit her day job or die; not that Wednesday wanted her to do either of those things, of course. She just wanted her turn a blind eye to the shenanigans so she might be able to return to bed before sunrise. 

“I’m going to the canteen,” she admitted, having lost the energy to formulate a believable lie. Weems knew her too well for that, anyway. 

The stress lines in Weems’s face only accentuated as she looked over Wednesday, like she was searching for a weapon or dirt or any indicator that her young criminal had been up to one of her characteristic antics. She frowned at her and shook her head. 

“And why are you doing that when you should be asleep or otherwise making yourself unassuming?” she asked. “Lights out means you do not leave your room under any circumstances until sunrise.” 

Wednesday tiredly blinked at the woman. She wanted to yawn but did not want to give Weems the satisfaction of seeing her in a vulnerable light.

“Enid has been tossing and turning,” she replied, shrugging. “Warm milk soothes her back to sleep. I would like to get some decent shut-eye before archery practice in the morning, so I’m fetching a milk carton for her.”

Weems didn’t seem as though she were buying into that fib, but she sighed and ran a hand over her face before bracing Wednesday’s bony shoulder with her other. Wednesday jerked but didn’t resist the touch, only squirming slightly as the woman spun her around. 

“I will escort you there,” she told Wednesday. “After you warm the milk, it’s straight back to bed for you. I can’t have anyone roaming about so late.” 

“I think you and I are both acutely aware that I’m not inclined to mind anyone of authority,” Wednesday muttered like a petulant child as she was briskly walking alongside her principal, who had a hand supporting her shoulders. “I’ve managed without rules so far.”

“So far,” Weems implied. “I already have a very stressful matter on my hands. I don’t need another.”

Wednesday’s ears perked up as her stomach clenched. “What matter?”

Her shoulder bumped Weems’s arm as they stopped in the middle of the hallway leading up to the kitchen. Weems gave her an explicitly hard look that told her that maybe, just maybe, she was onto her.

“That, I think you already know, Miss Addams,” she sternly said before turning the young girl around to face forward and continued marching her towards the kitchen. “Now, you’ll get what you came for, and then I will escort you up to your room, lest your fingers decide they’re just not sticky enough.”

A knot formed in the pit of Wednesday’s stomach as the gentle hand around her shoulder became a little less gentle. Weems was a bit too quiet for Wednesday’s liking, and she wondered if she had done something to spark controversy. Surely she couldn’t have been accused of Divina’s disappearance with so little evidence. No one could rightfully pin that on her. Not just then, anyway. And if they tried, she would certainly be vindicated in little time. 

Weems turned on the bright overhead lights in the large kitchen. Wednesday jerked at the white light splitting open her skull like a melon. She had become particularly sensitive to lighting and found that it overwhelmed her in large quantities. Weems didn’t take note of that, and continued turning on more lights. 

The refrigerator the milk was stored in hummed quietly. Everything smelled faintly of floor cleaner and bleach. Wednesday’s eyes watered from the overbearing stench of clean, or maybe because she was already on the cusp of being caught in her elaborate scheme to avoid feeling stupid for her mistake. If she lied to Weems again, she probably would have been expelled and shipped back home, never to see Enid again.

That just wouldn’t work, and she definitely was not going to cry over it. Not yet.

“I will heat the milk for you,” Weems said as she grabbed a milk jug from the fridge and poured enough to fill a glass into a saucepan. “You wait right there.”

Wednesday huffed but didn’t move. “I’m capable of heating it.”

“That might be true, but I’m not going to break yet another policy by allowing you to use the stove,” she said as she twisted one of the knobs and ignited a burner. “You are not supposed to be in here at all, but I’m making an exception. So wait there and do not put your hands anywhere they could potentially be injured.”

Weems rested the saucepan on the burner and raised the heat just a notch. She turned her back to grab a clean glass from the stack of washed and dried dishes next to the sanitizing sink. 

Wednesday watched the way her movements seemed so slow. Weems had suffered some severe cognitive dysfunction in the days after her poisoning, and after over a week in the hospital trying to regain her strength in both mind and body, she decided to return to Nevermore to see the reconstruction through. Though her cognitive function was almost restored to its original working order, there was still some work to do for her muscles and coordination. 

Guilt overcame Wednesday. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t been so foolish. Things wouldn’t have been upturned, Enid wouldn’t have been scarred, Weems wouldn’t have issues walking without stumbling from time to time.

“You’re thinking quite a bit,” Weems suddenly said as she stirred the milk with a wooden spoon. “It’s far too late to think so much.”

Wednesday almost yawned. “Or is it too early?”

“Stop with the semantics,” Weems chuckled, still stirring. “Don’t stress yourself. Unless you have something very important keeping you awake.”

There was an implication behind that. Wednesday wasn’t going to let her have that.

“The only thing keeping me awake is Enid’s antics,” she quickly said. “I find it hypocritical of you to criticize me for my insomnia when you are walking the halls at this hour.”

Weems chuckled to herself and let the milk simmer as she turned the burner off. “I do believe you when say that you’ve not been escaping in the middle of the night, because surely you would’ve realized that I’ve been awake this late quite often.”

“You don’t know that,” she retorted. “I don’t seek your attention when I’m up to no good. What would be the point in that?” 

“Maybe not, but the guards have been warned of your habits,” she replied and carefully tilted the saucepan on its side to let the milk flow into the cup. Her wrist shook and the milk sputtered out of the pan. “Oh, dammit.”

Wednesday quickly took hold of the saucepan’s handle and finished pouring the milk into the glass. Weems said nothing and soaked up the spilled milk with a dishcloth while Wednesday ran the saucepan under a stream of water in the sink to soak for the morning attendants to deal with.

“No reason to cry over spilled milk,” Wednesday told the older woman, who was angrily tapping the counter where the milk splattered. 

“Do you see a tear in my eye, Miss Addams?” Weems asked, offering her the glass. “Now, let’s take you back to your room so I can have peace of mind that you aren’t running around getting yourself into trouble.”

The glass was hot against Wednesday’s fingers as Weems turned off the light and ushered her out of the kitchen. The walk back to the student wing was unforgivably long and cold, especially when they crossed through the quad. It was almost cold enough to return the milk to its original temperature, but Wednesday quickly warmed when they entered the student wing and the warmth of candlelight welcomed them in.

“I don’t want you leaving your room again, Miss Addams,” Weems warned in a whisper as she and Wednesday climbed the large staircase. “It isn’t safe for you out there.”

“Need I remind you that anything existing out there is far more scared of me than I am of it,” Wednesday replied with ease. 

Weems stopped on the third to last step to the top of the staircase, taking a bit of a breather. Wednesday was patient, not necessarily eager to return to the chaos she had accidentally spawned in her room, though she was a bit concerned that Enid was going insane. 

“I have my doubts about that,” she whispered. There was hesitance in her voice. A flame flickered over her tired eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want a truthful answer out of you.”

Wednesday’s knuckles tightened around the glass. She wasn’t strong enough to shatter it, but she wasn’t opposed to the feeling of a thousand shards slicing through her skin. At least she would feel something.

“Fine,” she agreed with grit.

The principal took a breath. “Have you seen Divina? As I understand it, she was at your dorm this afternoon to work on a project. Is that true?”

“That was two questions.”

Weems grunted at her. “You are infuriatingly technical. Just answer them.”

“She was at my dorm for our project and left around 5,” she said. “I’ve not seen her since.” 

Weems’s eyes surveyed her body language; tense yet somehow relaxed. Her eyes were focused yet exhausted, her lips neutral and shoulders slumped.

“Let’s get you to your room,” she proceeded, continuing up the stairs and into Ophelia Hall. “Straight to bed. Lights out.”

Wednesday twisted the knob to her dorm and gave Weems a tentative glance. 

“Goodnight.”

Weems nodded her departure. “Sleep well, Miss Addams.”

She wasn’t going to sleep well. But no one cared about that.

Not long after getting Divina’s bottle sorted, which took longer than necessary because Enid kept watching at her every move as she filled the bottle to the 8-ounce marker, Wednesday reprised her role in her armchair and picked up her discarded book. Enid was curled up on her bed, cradling a flaccid and content Divina in the crook of her arm. The little one was hungrily suckling at the bottle and gulping down the warm milk with gluttonous effort. Enid and Wednesday didn’t say a word to each other, until Divina unlatched halfway through the bottle and nuzzled Enid’s chest. A milk trail traveled down her chin, and she gave a tiny hiccup. 

“You’re supposed to burp a baby, right?” Enid asked as she lifted Divina to her shoulder. 

“It’s ideal unless you want her to be screaming in pain from gas,” Wednesday absently replied, skimming yet another page in the book. “You wouldn’t want to wake Yoko. Or anyone else. Weems is awake.”

Enid halted her patting of Divina’s back to look at Wednesday with concern. She bounced a little so Divina would stop fussing, moving the infant closer to her heart to soothe her with that familiar thump-thump. 

“How do you know?” she asked.

“She caught me on my way to the kitchen,” she sighed, rubbing her temple with stiff fingers. “She asked if I had seen Divina. There was an implication that I’m a prime suspect in her sudden vanishing.” 

Enid nervously swallowed. “And what did you say?” 

“I told her that Divina left here around 5 and I’ve not seen her since.” She looked up, face stoic. “And that will be your story as well. It’s important that there be no faults or plot holes.”

“I don’t know about this, Wednesday,” the wolf apprehensively said as she resumed patting Divina’s back. “I want to help you, but I think you’ll only make it worse if you wait. If you just tell Weems the truth, it’ll all be over.”

Wednesday scoffed, affronted by that suggestion. Enid must’ve taken her for a fool. 

“Absolutely not,” she coldly said. “No one will have the satisfaction of watching me admit that I made a mistake and need help to remedy it. I can do this all on my own.”

The way Enid’s eyebrows raised told Wednesday that maybe that wasn’t the right way to express herself.

“If you can do it on your own, then take her and keep her alive until you figure it out,” she offered, holding Divina out to her from across the room. She wasn’t going to toss her, of course, but that didn’t mean Wednesday wouldn’t have deserved that. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Wednesday clarified. “Keep her on your side of the room.”

Enid tutted and laid Divina in her arms to finish feeding her the rest of the milk. The baby swatted at the bottle and pulled her lips away from the nipple, smacking them open and closed as if she wanted to latch but couldn’t. 

“Finish it,” Enid demanded and brought the bottle to her lips again. “You won’t get more until the morning. That’s a long way away for a baby.”

Divina stubbornly turned her face away and smacked Enid’s chest. Enid didn’t miss the satisfied expression spread over the baby’s face when she groaned in pain at being violently hit in the chest by a little fist. Teenage Divina had somewhat of a mean streak when she wasn’t getting the attention she sought, or sometimes when she was trying to antagonize her friends and no one was playing her game. It was her way of obtaining the validation she needed.  

“Are you smirking at me?” Enid scoffed as she sat Divina up in her lap. “Sure looks like it.”

“Impossible,” Wednesday said, rolling her eyes. “She hasn’t a thought in her mind. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“I dunno, Wednesday,” Enid said, running a hand through Divina’s dark hair. “She keeps looking at me and smiling like she’s up to something.”

“Babies are intelligent in their own way, but they’re not so intelligent that they can comprehend their surroundings and manipulate the situation,” Wednesday sighed. Repeating herself was becoming exhausting. “She might just be gassy, or maybe she finds you fascinating. Either way, she is ignorant.”

Enid hummed in contemplation and lifted Divina over her head. Divina giggled and stuck a finger in her mouth as she was suspended in the air like she was flying.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Enid asked her in a soft coo, smiling at the chubby cheeks that only dimpled further when Divina grinned. “Do you know what’s happening? Hm?”

They played airplane for a few minutes before Divina got a sour look on her face and her slobbery smile fell into a look of concentration or constipation. Enid frowned and began to lower her back into her lap, and she was halfway there when a stream of vomit ejected from Divina’s mouth and onto Enid’s face and chest. She was soaked, her clothes were soaked, the bed was soaked. Everything was soaked. 

“Shit!” Enid cried.

Wednesday smirked and continued reading. “Vomit, actually.”

Chapter Text

Before Wednesday knew it, pink light was filtering through the room. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed between soothing Divina back to sleep after the laundry basket fiasco and the ninth chapter of the spell book. The table of contents and glossary were both infuriatingly vague and provided very little context, leaving her to spend the remainder of the night skimming through thousands of words and extracting nothing but the fact that she had completely destroyed all hope of remedying her vastly intricate mistake. 

Divina had fallen asleep against Enid’s chest after Enid replaced the soiled linens with a hideous floral sheet set and a bubblegum pink comforter. Reluctantly, Wednesday adopted the task of watching over the baby, who had been transferred back to her laundry basket on the floor once she had dozed off in the safety of Enid’s arms. It was ridiculous, really, just how easily Wednesday succumbed to her fate and Enid’s demands.

What worried Wednesday more than not achieving a solution to her mistake was the fact that she was beginning to find comfort in whatever disastrous dynamic this was turning out to be. Divina was quite annoying and Wednesday would do anything to rid her home of that squirmy, whiny baby, but as time lapsed and the day had quickly become night and then day again, Wednesday was learning to accept it for what it was. 

Still, she was going to find a remedy, even at the cost of her sanity. There was little she wouldn’t do for this, to prove herself right and smugly tell Enid that she told her so and to stop doubting her abilities as a spell-caster. She wanted her victory dance and her bragging rights for what she had done, and to present Ms. Faye with a success story rather than a tragedy. She was entirely too intelligent not to crack the code and give Enid a very wordy speech about having any suspicions or doubt about her. 

Victory was going to be sweet, but only when it would come. Wednesday still had a long day ahead if she was going to fix this by nightfall, and judging by the way time seemed to rapidly pass and the sun rose further into the sky and glittered pink over Divina’s faint eyelashes, she was going to have to be quick about it. 

When she looked up at her wall clock, it was already closer to seven. Breakfast had just started downstairs and Divina was surely going to wake again for something to eat and another change, and there was Enid, still sleeping with one arm hanging off the bed and the other clutching onto a plush panda. 

Wednesday frowned and bookmarked her page as she shifted in her armchair. She set aside her book and stretched out her legs and arms, finding her lower half completely numb and tingly. The pinpricks were a delightful addition touch to the throbbing in her lower back as she sat at the edge of the chair.

Enid made a soft purring sound in her sleep as she lifted her dangling arm and unconsciously wiped the drool from her mouth before turning onto her other side and settling there. 

Sighing at her roommate’s lack of concern for schedules and responsibility, Wednesday rolled her eyes and migrated to their shared bathroom to brush her teeth and prepare for her typical morning routine in a very atypical situation. If tending to her hygiene was the only normal part of the day, she would accept it, because her entire itinerary that she had spent hours creating was rendered useless by the sudden shift in routine. She couldn’t practice her cello or work on her novel or hunt her stalker in the woods. She had accountability over Divina’s wellbeing and safe return to her teenaged state of being, and that ultimately superseded any comfort of her own. If that was what parenthood was, she wanted nothing to do with it.

As she was running her hairbrush through her hair and taking stock of the dark circles under her eyes, she decided that she could have gone for another shower. For all of twenty minutes the night before, after Enid washed the baby vomit off of herself, Wednesday had ducked into the shower for a moment of relaxation, which quickly became intense pondering and self-loathe. She had a desire to do that again, but she was likely to get into her own head and lose track of time amidst her silent, one-person pity party. She couldn’t risk wasting the morning away, especially since Divina was likely to awaken soon and whine for her needs to be tended to.

In the quiet of the early morning, she braided her hair again and tied them off with silky elastics. The steady drip-drip of the leaky faucet pleasantly reminded her of waterboard torture as she brushed her teeth. Foam produced around her mouth the harder she scrubbed at her teeth, and long after two minutes had passed, she spat it out into the sink and rinsed her mouth with water. 

The morning was going to waste away if she didn’t do something soon. She had very little energy to do much of anything, but her concerns and desires meant absolutely nothing. They never did as of late; a vast majority of her life consisted of discomfort and the prevalent fear of her stalker apprehending her and leaving Enid to mourn her absence. 

Death wasn’t anything to be inherently afraid of, but there was a knot in her stomach when she thought of Enid having nothing left of her except a cello and a typewriter, both of which she didn’t know how to use. She had been considering luring her stalker into the woods and waiting for death’s embrace to wrap her up in its eternal comfort, but when she stopped to think of Enid’s blue eyes flooded with tears and the indelible impact the loss would have on her, she couldn’t fathom it. 

Enid wasn’t going to lose her. At least, not if Wednesday had any say in it. And Wednesday absolutely hated that about her. 

After some ruminating and rolling on some deodorant, Wednesday sighed and passed by a slumbering Enid and Divina on her way to her closet. She was surprised to find that Divina had not made a single sound since her last feeding, and decided that she didn’t want to risk waking her. She was quiet about filtering through her clothing until she found her favorite sweater and pants. She never changed where Enid could accidentally catch a glimpse of her in her most vulnerable state, rather closing the closet door and discarding her pajamas into the laundry basket. 

She was slow to change into her clothes for the day. Every movement she made told her to sink into bed and allow the morning to pass in whichever way it chose, but she had to be persistent about finding a solution that didn’t involve anyone else. She had already involved Enid by default, and maybe it wasn’t exactly fair of her.

When she left the closet, she almost jumped when she found Thing sitting next to her typewriter. No one had seen him in nearly an entire day, and while that was mildly worrying to Wednesday, she didn’t exactly have the time to go investigate his whereabouts. 

“Don’t wake them,” she whispered to him. 

You screwed up, he signed, smug.

Her eyebrows met as she glared at him. “I know that. If you aren’t going to help me, kindly mind your own business. You have no place to speak; you’ve made a myriad of mistakes.”

Not this big, he said. 

“You’ve been gone for a day without saying anything or giving me your whereabouts. You don’t get to mock me for my irresponsibility,” she told him, folding her arms. “I’m going to fix this before it becomes a big deal to anyone.”

Too late. I saw Yoko and Kent talking to Weems. 

Intrigued, Wednesday squatted down so she was eye level with him. He backed away a bit and leaned against her typewriter.

“What did Weems say?” she asked. “I’m sure Yoko and Kent are upset.”

They’re going to report Divina missing once it’s been 24 hours, he signed, pointing to the sleeping baby. No one has seen her since three o’clock yesterday. 

“That means I have eight hours to fix this before her face is plastered on every milk carton in the country,” she huffed. She didn’t think eight hours was enough. “I have to do something.”

They don’t put missing kids on milk anymore, Thing corrected.

Wednesday frowned. “Well, they should.” 

Thing tapped at her. She brushed him off and dismissively stood up, beginning to pace as quietly as she could. Her first order of business was to fetch milk for Divina and breakfast for herself and Enid. They weren’t going to be able to eat outside of the dorm until the mishap was settled; if it ever settled, of course. 

“I’ll be back,” she told Thing, putting on her shoes. “Keep them company. Enid can only speak in babbles for so long.”

Thing saluted her in agreement. Wednesday nodded at him and left the room with the empty tray from dinner and every intention of grabbing breakfast before anyone could become wise to her presence. 

The hallways were silent and devoid of life. She didn’t hear a single noise until she neared the canteen, and then she recognized the sound of chattering and forks scraping against plates. She took a breath before entering and opened her eyes to find most of the tables empty and seats free. It was quite sunny out and everyone was probably having breakfast in the quad to soak up the morning sunlight. 

Everything was easy to disregard as Wednesday traded the dirty tray for a clean one. She browsed her main course options that Enid would dare to even sniff—waffles or French toast—and selected a waffle for her and nothing for herself. Enid loved scrambled eggs and bacon when she was in the mood for them. Wednesday hoped she was in the mood, because they ended up on her plate. 

She elected for a banana and a bowl of oatmeal for herself, deciding that it was sad and beige enough for her to consume. The tray was becoming heavy in her hands and only became heavier when she added a milk carton to it. 

The oatmeal almost flew out of the bowl when a hand grabbed onto her right shoulder. She jolted and spun around, face scrunched as if she were in agony.

“How dare you touch me—“

“Relax,” a familiar voice said. “It’s just me.” 

When Wednesday opened her eyes, she was looking into those of Bianca’s. It was absolutely infuriating just how often they crossed paths. Wednesday wanted to toss the tray at her, but Weems had already warned her that there would be no spats out of her unless she wanted to be on cleaning duty after dinner for the next month. That would have cut into her writing time, and that just simply would not do.

“You were the last to see Divina,” Bianca continued, accusatory. “What happened to her?”

Wednesday’s eyes drew over Bianca and took in the sight of the gold eyeshadow above her siren eyes. It glittered as Bianca narrowed her eyes at her. She knew that Bianca could read body language very well; it was one of the ways she could manipulate people without wasting her siren song. Bianca always knew when someone was guilty of a crime. She had sniffed Wednesday out early on and challenged her to push her to her last limit. Wednesday absolutely loathed that about her.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she replied. “I have to bring this upstairs. Enid isn’t feeling well.”

“Funny. She didn’t show up for dinner last night, either,” Bianca said, eyeing the tray of food. “And I guess you’re eating alongside her?”

“Isn’t that what you infer based upon the contents of my tray?” Wednesday snarked. “I have to go. It’s going to get cold before I get there if you continue pestering me about something that I have no information about.”

“Yoko and Kent are out looking for her,” Bianca continued to pry, shaking her head in dismay. “A couple of other sirens joined them, and I’m going to follow after breakfast. That’s my best friend, Wednesday, and if you had anything to do with it and don’t come clean, you are going to wish you’d never met me.”

Wednesday frowned. “And who says I already don’t?”

Bianca made a scoffing noise. It was just like Wednesday to be completely nonchalant and miss the entire point of a threat. She was an impossible character to understand and even more difficult to argue with. But that didn’t mean that Bianca refused to try. 

“I get it, Wednesday,” she finally said. “You haven’t been the same since, well, you know. You’re even colder than before. And I get it. But Divina is very important to a lot of people. Yoko is crying all the time, Kent is losing his mind, their parents are on their way from Louisiana to figure out why the fuck their kid just up and disappeared.”

“What I say doesn’t matter,” Wednesday replied evenly, clenching her jaw. “I’m going to be blamed regardless of my innocence. No one seems to believe me that I’ve done nothing to Divina to cause her vanishing. There are plausible reasons for teenage runaways. Perhaps she was feeling troubled and decided to end it all. After all, death is very enticing when you’re miserable.”

Bianca’s jaw went slack and almost hit the floor. Wednesday didn’t think that was a good sign of what was to come.

“Divina would never do something like that,” Bianca angrily snarled, stepping closer to Wednesday. “You are projecting. I know you’ve gotten the shit end of the deal after what happened, but not everyone thinks the same way you do. Divina isn’t depressed or suicidal. She wouldn’t just. . .do that.”

“And you know this how?” Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow. “Depression is a silent killer. It kills one’s spirit and will to live. It often goes unnoticed behind smiles and the insistence that one is okay. The people who insist they are fine and are pleased with themselves tend to be the most miserable inside. Maybe there was residual trauma or a lack of enjoyment in life because she’s been caged up in this prison for three years. You may brand yourself as her best friend, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you know who she is.”

So maybe she was projecting, but only a little, and Bianca didn’t have to know how she genuinely viewed life after Crackstone. No one had to know; not even Enid, who was already beginning to suspect that something was just not right.

“You are miserable,” said Bianca.

“Is that meant to be an insult?” Wednesday remarked. When Bianca went quiet, she nodded. “I’m going back to my dorm now. I hope Divina is well.”

She left Bianca wordless as she turned on her heel and made her way out of the busy canteen. Several pairs of eyes followed her and people were whispering as the passed them. There was a target on her back, and if she weren’t already at risk of expulsion and separation from Enid for her antics, she would have enjoyed knowing that there were so many people willing to put an end to her life. She had no room for more enjoyment for anything, and more than that, she almost felt as though she had become even more outcasted. 

If they wanted to kill her, she wanted them to take their time with it. It was probably the only enjoyment she would reap.

As she ascended the long staircase back to Ophelia Hall, carefully balancing her tray so she wouldn’t have a mess to clean up, she wrote a speech in her head. If she was going to be confronted after this became a huge deal and included the media and authorities, she had to have something prepared to clear her name. The most difficult task was going to be getting Enid to corroborate her story. Enid was too fidgety and sometimes forgot certain pieces of information. If Wednesday got caught for her mistake, it was surely going to be Enid’s fault for not following instructions.

When she carefully walked back into the dorm, she found Enid changing Divina’s diaper on her bed. The baby was now naked from the waist up, Enid’s shirt soiled with drool and spit-up nowhere to be found. Wednesday noted that the room was significantly warmer than when she had left.

Enid was babbling to Divina as she placed a strip of duct tape over the front of the diaper to keep the tabs closed. 

“Don’t worry about Wednesday,” she cooed to Divina as she sanitized her hands. “She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t like slimy things. It’s a texture thing, ya know? She’s a nice person. I feel safe around her. She’ll protect you, even if she acts like you’re a mistake. Well, maybe you could be considered one, but I still love you. Yes, I do.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Wednesday said as she set the tray on her desk.

Enid jumped and turned around. Her pink cheeks pulled upwards as she grinned.

“Oh, you’re back!” she exclaimed. “I thought you left us for good! I know you don’t like this whole parenting thing, but we’re in this together. Right?”

“I’m no parent,” Wednesday retorted as she grabbed her bowl of oatmeal and a spoon before sinking into her armchair. “We are merely babysitting, and until I find a reversal, you are going to be caring for her.”

Enid frowned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“But this is a good way for us to bond,” said Enid, pitiful as she pouted. “You have to help me with her.”

“And I did,” she responded, spooning oatmeal into her mouth. She nearly gagged over the grainy texture, forcing it down but setting the bowl aside. “I brought her milk for breakfast, and she can finish off my oatmeal.”

Sighing at Wednesday, Enid took the milk carton off the tray and tilted her head at the plate Wednesday had made up for her in the canteen.

“You don’t like bacon or eggs,” Enid told her. “Why did you get both? Divina can’t eat that. She’ll choke.”

“It’s for you,” Wednesday easily replied as she picked up her discarded book and opened it to its bookmark. “You won’t be leaving this room for quite some time, so I figured I also needed to feed you. I refuse to have you pass out and leave me to mind the cretin all on my own.” 

Enid didn’t want to blush, but it was quite difficult when she looked at the plate again and found that Wednesday had given her two bacon strips. She only liked two, not one or three. Just two. It was all the could eat at once because it was too greasy for her stomach.  

“Thanks,” she told Wednesday. “You know what I like.”

“I’m very observant,” was all Wednesday said as she got comfortable and resumed reading. 

While Enid was trying not to gush over the fact that Wednesday had paid enough attention to her to note that she only liked two pieces of bacon and her eggs so scrambled that they were almost rubber, she wondered if there was anything more behind it. Courtesy, maybe, but she also ruminated over the fact that Wednesday was more than surface level. Many of her choices and actions were rooted beyond that. 

Her pondering was shortened when a thump scared her out of her skin. Before she could fully turn around, there was a wail of pain. 

“Divina!” she cried, rushing over to pick up the screaming baby, who was face-down on the hard floor. “Shit! Wednesday!”

Wednesday looked up from her book, unsurprised to find that unattended Divina had fallen off Enid’s bed and hit the floor. Enid was bouncing Divina on her hip, brushing back the wild hair to reveal an angry red mark on her forehead. 

“I figured that was going to happen at some point,” Wednesday said, still unbothered by the wailing baby in Enid’s arms. “She can’t crawl yet. She shouldn’t be left unattended. Infants are simply tiny, intoxicated people.” 

“She looks okay, but she’s gonna be bruised later,” Enid told Wednesday as she continued swaying around the room with Divina sobbing into her shoulder. “Oh, it’s okay, little one. It’s okay. It was all my fault. You’re still so little and your big head makes your whole body unbalanced.” 

Divina’s sobs dwindled into soft whimpers as the shock slowly ebbed away. She was rubbing at her forehead with her fist, nuzzling into Enid and resting her ear above her heart. Once she soothed, her lips latched onto Enid’s collarbone and gave a demanding suckle of skin.

“Oh yeah,” Enid said, suddenly aware of the milk carton she had dropped on Wednesday’s desk. “You need food. Let me get your bottle ready.” 

Moving Divina to the other hip so her dominant hand was free, Enid popped open the milk carton and poured it into the bottle she had rinsed out when she was putting new sheets on her bed last night. Divina attempted to grab the bottle herself and rooted around until Enid brought it to her lips. She accepted it, and when Enid shifted her so she was cradled in her arms, her little hands grabbed onto the bottle and held it. 

“Look, Wednesday,” Enid said. “She’s holding it all by herself. Our baby is growing up!” 

“Riveting,” Wednesday deadpanned, not looking up even once. This was taking far too long. 

Enid continued cooing at Divina, who was grinning around the nipple until milk dribbled down her chin. Those siren eyes were crinkling at the edges, like she was trying to tell Enid something. 

“Stop staring at me like that,” Enid giggled.

Wednesday uncomfortably shifted in her chair and held her book to her chest. “I’m doing no such thing.”

Enid raised an eyebrow. “I was talking to Divina.” 

Of course she was. How could Wednesday have been so foolish to assume otherwise? She would never admit to sneaking precarious glances at her bubbly, bright roommate when she was preoccupied with something such as a squirmy baby, but she most certainly was, and what she hated the most about it was that she couldn’t stop. It was as if Enid had her own gravitational pull and Wednesday was hurtling towards her with such force. That in and of itself was terrifying. Enid was practically a black hole and Wednesday was past the point of no return.

Wednesday said nothing as Divina slowly worked on finishing her bottle and Enid hummed to her. There were still two ounces left when the bottle fell to the floor and the baby kicked against Enid’s arms. 

“All done?” Enid asked, holding Divina against her and kissing the worryingly red spot on her forehead. It was still warm to the touch but didn’t seem to have a bump, which was a relief, if nothing else. “Do you wanna watch Ms Rachel on my phone? All babies like Ms Rachel!”

Divina babbled nonsensically as Enid sat at the edge of her bed and propped her up in her lap. She grabbed her phone from the charger and went to open YouTube, but a text from Yoko caught her eye, and she quickly opened it.

Yo-Yo

6:58 AM

>I’m going out with Kent to find Divina

>please come with us when you wake up

>call me before you come so we can meet up

>please Enid

Enid’s heart sank. She sighed and proceeded to turn on Ms Rachel for Divina, keeping the volume quiet so she wouldn’t disturb Wednesday too much, and sat her against the pillows with her phone as she slid off the bed.

“Wednesday, this is going too far,” she said. “Yoko wants me to help her and Kent to find Divina.”

Looking up yet again, Wednesday shifted in her seat. “And are you going to go?”

“Well, I kinda have to,” Enid replied, nervously glancing at Divina, who was clapping her hands at Ms Rachel singing some sort of nursery rhyme. “I have to be a good friend. And I want to throw in the towel and just tell them—“

“—You will not tell anyone anything, is that clear?” Wednesday snapped. Her dead heart was nearly pounding its way right out of her chest. “I’m going to find a remedy at some point. You need to have a little more trust in me than that, Enid.” 

“And I do, which is why I’m not going to say anything,” she finished. “But I do have to go with them. Otherwise it’ll seem like I don’t care or I’m hiding something.”

It wasn’t that Enid wanted to cover for Wednesday—Wednesday could figure that out all on her own—but it was that Enid had an instinct to protect her roommate, and if she was the one to rat her out about her mistake, Wednesday would never trust her again. Building trust had become an important factor in keeping them both sane after the blood moon, and Enid would’ve rather died than to lose what they had already worked so build upon.

“And I suppose you’ll be leaving the cretin with me so you can spend the morning roaming the woods looking for someone who isn’t missing?” Wednesday inferred. Her dark eyes were filtering out the range of emotions flooding Enid’s face. “This is unnecessary of you.”

“It’ll just be for an hour or so,” Enid promised. “I’ll make up some half-assed excuse to leave. I just need to show up and give some effort, even if we’re just wandering in circles. I promise not to say anything, and I’ll be back before you even know it. She had her bottle and I’ll put on Ms Rachel on my laptop to keep her busy. I’ll text you when I’m coming back.”

Wednesday’s shifty eyes moved past Enid and took note of the baby waving around Enid’s cellphone. 

“That will be hard to do without a phone,” she remarked before burying her nose in her book.

“What—“

The cellphone hit the floor, and Divina clapped her hands again, falling backwards into the pillows and pulling her feet to her mouth. Enid rescued her phone from the ground and felt that deep-rooted anger sink into her stomach at the thin crack vining from the bottom to the top of the screen. Her cameras had been spared, though.

“Bad baby!” Enid scolded Divina. “Bad, bad baby!”

Divina managed to stick her toes in her mouth, still grinning at Enid. She had a sly look about her, little eyelids rapidly fluttering as if she was batting her faint eyelashes. 

“I can’t imagine what she’ll do to your laptop,” Wednesday stated, almost smug. She was certainly enjoying watching Enid become increasingly flustered. “I don’t suppose drool is easy to clean out of a keyboard.”

Enid decided that, in so little words, Wednesday was right. Letting Divina within a foot of her laptop was a terrible idea, so she was going to have to find another source of entertainment for the little one while she was out. She couldn’t imagine that Wednesday would be willing to play with her. The thought was nice, but it wasn’t at all realistic.

“I’ll put her on the floor to play,” she told Wednesday, already grabbing a blanket from her bed and parachuting it into the air to lay it flat in front of the window. “She’ll be safe. It’s not like she can crawl or anything.”

Wednesday accepted her fate. Enid had her mind set on leaving with Yoko and Kent to go on a wild goose chase for a goose that didn’t exist. When Enid was adamant on doing something, nothing was going to stop her. She was almost as equally stubborn as Wednesday, though the results were drastically less disastrous. 

After getting Divina situated on the blanket with a few stuffed animals, Enid retired to the bathroom to change and prepare for the day. She had already replied to Yoko’s text with a passive “okay” and hoped it hadn’t come across too nonchalant or careless. 

Divina was flopping around like a fish, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees as she tried, with fail, to reach for a stuffed shark. She clearly wanted to go for the fin so she would have something to teethe on. Her eyes zeroed in on the blue animal, arms shakily holding up her upper half. Her tiny toes gripped the blanket for traction as she attempted to shuffle her way towards it, but she lost her balance and fell onto her belly with a soft whine.

Sighing at the interruption, Wednesday tore her attention away from the book for just a moment to find Divina flailing her arms at the shark. Enid had put the damned thing too far away from her knowing she wasn’t mobile enough to fetch it by herself. 

Thing was nowhere in sight to be of service to Wednesday. She frowned and left her chair to stand over the squirmy baby. 

“I’ll do you this one favor so you don’t start screaming and interrupt my reading,” she said as she moved the shark within Divina’s reach. 

The baby immediately grabbed onto it and brought it to her mouth, slobbering around the fin. Satisfied, Wednesday returned to her chair and propped her book up on her knees. Divina’s happy noises overlapped the sound of the faucet running in the bathroom. 

Everything was comfortable in that moment; Enid was preparing for the long day ahead, Wednesday was divulging in her very frustrating hobby, and Divina was entertained by so little and not wailing for food or Enid’s doting and loving attention. Given the current circumstance, Wednesday considered it to be desirable. 

Enid returned sometime later and put her shoes on. She offered Divina what was left of her bottle and set it next to the shark in case the little one wanted it later. Wednesday was unlikely to tend to her if she was too engrossed in her spell book.

“I’m going out now,” Enid told Wednesday. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Wordless, Wednesday nodded and flipped another useless page. Enid took that as her cue to make herself scarce, so she kissed the top of Divina’s bruising head and quietly left the room with her cracked phone in her pocket and a pink snood over her head. 

The atmosphere darkened a bit. Divina mercilessly gummed on the shark fin and intermittently glanced at her bottle, pondering if she wanted to finish it off or not. She decided it wasn’t worthy of her time and continued fixating on the stuffed animal that was propping her upright on the blanket.

Wednesday thumbed through another chapter while Divina was still relatively quiet. She was growing weary as the morning light became brighter and signaled that time was wasting away. If Divina’s parents were serious about reporting her missing at the 24-hour mark of her vanishing, that left Wednesday with approximately seven hours to gather what she needed. Then Divina would magically—figuratively or not—appear with a halfhearted reason for her disappearance, and everyone would go about their lives. 

But Wednesday didn’t view that as a sustainable option. Finding a remedy in such a large book might as well have been a needle in a haystack. Even the table of contents were useless and provided nothing but vague topics and suggestions. Divina was still very much a baby and the day was still very much passing them by with little hope for the future.

Her legs became numb again. She untucked and stretched them out, startling when something brushed up against her ankle. Thing was tapping at her, telling her not to step on him.

“Good, you’re here,” she told him. “Entertain the cretin for me. She has a very mischievous look on her face. Either she’s plotting something or she’s very gassy.”

Divina giggled and rolled over onto her back with her bottle between her hands. She tilted it and began to suckle on the nipple, drawing forth lukewarm milk into her mouth. Thing carefully migrated to her and waved his index finger at her in an attempt to say hello. 

“Ah,” Divina cooed and rolled over again, the bottle rolling away from her. A milky trail of drool soaked into the blanket as she grinned at the hand, reaching out to touch him. 

Thing used caution. He hadn’t had too much experience with infants; well, infants that weren’t an Addams. Addams babies were much different than the rest. He was sure that Divina didn’t want to play Judge, Jury, Executioner with him wherein she would be the criminal. 

Wednesday began a new chapter, evenly saying, “Careful. She likes to chew.”

Thing noted that and remained reasonably far away from Divina, who was on all fours again and trying with all her little might to get to him. She babbled and giggled until he crawled a little closer and he could grab onto one of the stuffed animals. He pushed it towards her, and rather than swiping at that, she swiped at him and wrapped her slimy fingers around his. 

“I told you to be careful,” Wednesday snapped. “Find your way out from under her.” 

Divina continued to pull at Thing until he was comfortably rested in both of her hands. His fingers splayed out, surprising the curious baby. She shrieked and brought him down to her face. A cold little nose brushed up against his palm, and a wet mouth gummed away at his thumb. She was using him as a pacifier or nipple, like she was trying to feed from him. 

Suddenly, he was being scooped up into another hand. Wednesday held him up to the sunlight, that angry crease prominent in her forehead.

“You’re being of no help to me,” she said. “I just need you to ensure that she doesn’t choke on anything while I’m busy reading. If I don’t find a way to fix this soon, I will have to admit to my fault, and that’s not something any of us would want. I’m irritable when I fail.”

Thing wagged his finger at her, and she let him down to the floor before reprising her role in her chair. He stayed much further from Divina that time, observing her while she attempted to reach for her bottle again. He flicked it with his fingers and sent it rolling towards her. She caught it in her chubby hands and rested her head on the shark, reclining back and latching onto the nipple again. 

It took another half hour or so before Wednesday flipped yet another page, and the chapter title sucked her in and almost knocked the wind from her lungs. 

Chapter Eighteen: Infant Possession

She didn’t want to consider the possibility of Divina being possessed. There were too many different types of possessions, and Wednesday wanted nothing to do with any of them. They were all equally complex and involved too much brain power to undo. Yet, as her eyes trailed over the list of remedies and curses that could potentially reverse the irreversible, she decided that she was going to have to take the risk if she wanted what little normalcy she had back. 

What worried her more than the idea that Divina was possessed by the spell that had gone awry was the fact that Wednesday made an innate and impulsive decision to wait for Enid to return before she would attempt a reversal. 

For the first time, Wednesday didn’t want to be alone. She would have rather died than be left alone. But then again, she would have rather died than do a lot of things. 

—

A mile deep in the woods, Enid contemplated what her death would look like if she simply told Yoko and Kent that Divina was, in fact, a babbling fixture in her dorm. Wednesday would have murdered her and mounted her severed head above her fireplace like a game trophy, but maybe that would have been more favorable than wandering the woods in the late morning as the snow was beginning to melt and turn into sludge in the sunlight. 

Yoko was beside herself. She hadn’t had a blood bag in nearly an entire day and was beginning to grow weary. A heavy side effect of lack of blood was hysteria that only ramped upwards as time trickled on. She was fidgeting with a coin in her hand, twisting and turning it and running a thumb over the ridges. 

“She wouldn’t have just ran off like this,” Yoko told Enid, a puff of smoke withering into the morning air as her breath warmed it. “This isn’t like her. She wouldn’t leave Nevermore or Kent or. . .me. She wouldn’t just leave me!”

Enid climbed over a snowy log and slid off the ice. She had chosen the worst pair of shoes possible for this adventure. Wednesday had always warned her against wearing Ugg boots in the snow and ice, because they definitely were not meant for that kind of weather, and she refused to listen because they were so warm. She thought that maybe she should have heeded her warnings, because now she was creating her own Slip ‘N Slide.

“Are you sure no one has heard from her?” Enid questioned, squinting across a barren patch of field where Kent was calling Divina’s name into the void. “She left my room at 5 yesterday, and she was about to meet you for dinner. I don’t think anything could’ve happened between that.”

“I checked her location on Find My iPhone,” Yoko said. There was a soft crease in her forehead similar to Wednesday’s but not as angry. It was concerned. “It says it’s still at Nevermore. She doesn’t go anywhere without her phone. I just don’t understand how she could’ve just disappeared like this.”

Playing Wednesday’s game was going to get Enid killed, and if not that, she would be without friends. She didn’t want to egg this on and continue to lead Yoko and Kent on a manhunt, but she also didn’t want to seem like an inadequate friend for heading back to Nevermore and ditching Yoko’s tireless efforts. If that didn’t raise suspicion, it would surely brand her as a bitch. 

“I don’t think she left Nevermore,” Enid suggested. “I think she’s still there.”

Behind her protective lenses, Yoko narrowed her eyes. “How do you figure that? Someone would have seen her.”

“Unless something happened to her there,” Enid replied. “Maybe she fell down the laundry chute again.”

“Kent already looked there,” Yoko sighed, slamming her hand against her forehead. “All he found was a bunch of girls’ panties. Pervert really enjoyed that.”

Enid wrinkled her nose. “Okay, ew! And also, if she didn’t end up there, maybe she got stuck in the old elevator lift. It hasn’t worked since before you were born. Maybe she got a little curious and now she’s trapped there.”

Yoko paused for a moment, then shook her head. “She’s insanely claustrophobic. If that happened, someone would have heard her screaming bloody murder a long time ago.”

Enid had nothing left to suggest or consider. She didn’t know what else she had been expecting; Yoko knew Divina better than anyone, with the exception of Kent by default. Enid had elected to go on a manhunt for her with the two people who held Divina closest to their hearts, and she certainly did feel quite stupid about it. 

While Enid pondered another suggestion that would’ve made Yoko stop to consider, Kent was kicking around pebbles and twigs in the snow. The white blanket below their feet was indented with human and animal footprints and obscured anything that might’ve led them to Divina. The sun was melting it inch by inch, but when Kent looked to the sky again, snowflakes flittered down and disappeared on his nose. There was little hope of finding traces of his sister then. 

“Maybe—“ Enid began, jumping a foot in the air when Kent screamed. “Kent?”

Kent was standing on a log, staring down at an icy patch on the ground where the snow had mostly melted. The pinkness in his face had become ghostly white as he rapidly pointed like a toddler. 

“Is that a skull?” he asked. “Did someone kill her?”

Yoko was quick to rush to his aid, Enid following despite the lack of concern. When Yoko looked down in the direction he was pointing in, she found a small skull, completely dry and decomposed, buried in the snow as the morning dew collected on the frontal lobe. Her face fell as she breathed a sigh of relief, but she reached up and laid a smack to the back of his head.

“That’s an animal skull, you stupid!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think that she would’ve decomposed that fast?”

“How am I supposed to know that, Yoko?” he snapped at her. “I’m worried about my sister! She’s never run away before. What if someone took her? What if someone killed her? What if—“

“What if you shut the hell up and stop thinking like that?” She yanked him off the log by the front of his jacket. “Stop saying that she got murdered! I don’t want to think about that!”

Enid pressed herself up against a nearby tree and watched her friends argue over what might have happened to Divina. She thought of Wednesday and Divina, who had probably been left alone a bit too long for her liking. She wondered if Wednesday was playing with Divina in her absence, and once that thought dissipated into Wednesday’s cold and unforgiving expression, she had to wonder if Wednesday had a softer side, like an alter ego. She had seen it once, under the blood moon, when they were both battered and beaten within an inch of their lives. Those brown eyes had grown concerned and soft just before Wednesday threw herself into Enid. They had stayed there for quite some time, and even if Wednesday wasn’t a baby person, she was very much an Enid person, at times. That was promising.

“You are so useless!” Yoko shouted at Kent, drawing Enid’s attention. “Keep walking! I have to find her!”

While Kent shrugged Yoko off him, Enid sighed and migrated over to her friends. By that time, Yoko was already walking ahead, the snow crunching under her heavy boots. Dejected, Kent watched her go and startled when Enid put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s just upset,” she assured him. “She didn’t mean it.”

“And I’m not upset?” His eyes were round and wide. If Enid looked closely, she could see a wet sheen over the blue irises. “That’s my sister, Enid. We’ve been buddies since before we were born. She said that she wanted to eat me in the womb but didn’t because she decided that I’m cool.”

Enid gave him a soft smile and patted his shoulder. He leaned into it as the first of his tears rolled down his cheeks and nearly froze to his skin. 

Yoko turned around and flailed her arms about. She fondly reminded Enid of baby Divina when she was excited. 

“Are you coming or not?!” she shouted. A bird flew off a tree. “Hurry up!”

Looking up at Kent, Enid gave his shoulder another pat and squeeze. His siren eyes met hers for a moment, and for just that one second, Enid felt a gut-wrenching ache in her stomach.

“She’ll come back,” she promised him. “Soon. I promise.”

He seemed doubtful, but Enid always kept her promises. Always.

—

It was a little after ten when Enid returned to the dorm, clothes damp with morning air and shoes filthy and cold. When she quietly opened the door in fear of what she might find past it, she found Wednesday swaying around the room with a little bundle in her arms. Wednesday was moving about in the sunlight cascading pink and orange hues into the room, focused on the baby cooing in her arms. 

“Go to sleep, you little brat,” Wednesday hissed, adjusting Divina so she was cradling her head with her opposite hand. “Just wait until Enid gets back.”

Quietly closing the door just enough to leave a gap so she could spectate, Enid fondly smiled at the frustrated crinkle of Wednesday’s eyes as she attempted to pat Divina’s bottom. She might’ve not been a natural at it, but she seemed to have been doing an otherwise decent job. 

Divina began to soothe against Wednesday’s chest as the seer tucked the blanket tighter around her. When the baby was finally silent, Wednesday moved to the thermostat and turned it up a notch. That was quite surprising, given that Wednesday detested anything above 70 degrees. She seemed willing to accommodate Divina’s needs at the expense of hers, something Enid had never expected to see. 

Once Wednesday had gotten Divina completely settled and flaccid in her arms, she kneeled close to the floor and carefully transferred her into the laundry basket, swaddling her in the pink and baby blue fleece. Divina stirred for a second, but when Wednesday laid a firm hand on her belly, she relaxed and turned her face into the side of the basket. Enid took note of the angry purple mark on her forehead, fearing the contusion would only grow larger if they didn’t treat it.

“I thought she couldn’t have a blanket,” Enid finally said as she entered the room and closed the door. “SIDS or whatever.”

Wednesday gave an exasperated breath of air. “As long as we ensure the blanket is not over her face, she’s fine. She kept shivering, and it was annoying.”

“Because you care about what she needs,” Enid slightly teased, trying to read Wednesday’s body language. “You like her, even if you pretend she’s gross and annoying.”

“She is gross and annoying,” Wednesday muttered as she sank into her armchair and took a much needed breather. She had been trying to coax Divina to sleep for what felt like a century. “Now, if you’ll leave me to read in peace, I’ll be able to finish this chapter and maybe repair this before it can become a bigger deal.”

Enid stepped over the mess of stuffed animals on the floor and picked up Divina’s discarded bottle. She would have to wash it, just to do her part since Wednesday was clearly spent from having to look after a blabbering baby in her absence. Her intention was to create an equal partnership between them, even if they couldn’t have been considered partners by any means. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try, though.

“Kent and Yoko are really upset,” she told Wednesday. “They kinda had an argument when we were searching for her. I promised Kent that she’ll come back soon.”

Wednesday’s accusatory eyes met Enid’s baby blues. She was practically sucked into them, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t half-irritated by her werewolf roommate. 

“Make no promises you cannot keep, Enid,” she warned.

“But I keep all my promises,” Enid replied with a dismissive shrug. “I know you can do this, Wednesday. You’re way too smart not to figure this out. I know you made a mistake, but everyone makes mistakes sometimes. I know you can do this. And I promise you that, too.”

Enid was an excellent negotiator and an even better cheerleader for Wednesday. Whether it was her soft blue eyes that Wednesday could have stared at for days at a time or the way she softly yet firmly spoke her daily affirmations in the mirror to pep herself up, Enid was great at convincing Wednesday and giving her that final push she needed. 

So, she buried her nose in her spell book and continued to jot down notes on her writing pad, dismissing both Enid and Divina in favor of making good on Enid’s promise. She absolutely hated herself for finding affirmation in Enid’s words, but she couldn’t concern herself with that just then. There were more important matters at hand, and if she repaired her mishap soon, she would have more time to explore that fluttery feeling in her stomach. Not that she actually wanted to, of course.

While her roommate was occupied, Enid smiled and went to rinse the bottle under the faucet, leaving Wednesday to her own devices. If nothing else, at least she had the golden opportunity to witness Wednesday in a much softer light, even for a second. She wasn’t as terrible as so many made her out to be. In fact, Enid could have gotten used to having a Wednesday-shaped fixture in her life. 

She was going to miss her after graduation, which was still some time away yet a sickly thought in the back of her mind. Wednesday probably wouldn’t miss her all that much, even with the admission that the mark Enid had left on her was indelible—whatever that actually meant. Memories faded over time, lost to age and a maturing brain. Enid’s face was going to go from high-definition color to grainy black-and-white as Wednesday aged, and then she would be forgotten altogether. The human brain could only preserve faces and voices for so long before they became distorted and then nothing at all. 

Enid didn’t want to become someone Wednesday used to know; she didn’t want to be a passive name in her stories or a cutaway memory from her high school days. She didn’t want Wednesday to see a rainbow on a random Sunday and see her face in the colors for just one second before she returned to whatever held more importance in her life at that time.

And Enid; Enid didn’t want to be late-twenties, married to someone her mother paired her up with and expecting one or two pups. She didn’t want to be early-thirties and see a large, ancient book or hear a cello playing and think of Wednesday for a moment before tending to her husband and chasing around her children as if that part of her life, that Wednesday, never existed. In fact, she would have rather died. She refused to let Wednesday become a fond high school memory that she thought of in the spare time she had between cooking dinner for her family and soothing a wailing toddler on her hip.

She refused to become her mother. And that was another problem altogether, but she couldn’t have been bothered with it. For the moment, she considered what would happen if she and Wednesday left Nevermore as only friends. They would become acquaintances, at the very most, and disintegrate into tiny bursts of laughter and smiles when they recalled something stupid they did together, like this entire spell scandal. And then, maybe twenty years from now, they would forget, too wrapped up in their own lives. Wednesday would probably be a famous author, going on book tours and enjoying her solitude. Enid would probably be changing diapers and waiting for Wednesday to blow into town for a book signing.

It was all figured out, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  

The bottle was more than clean by the time Enid realized that she was almost sobbing and thinking of Wednesday and all she could never have.

Chapter Text

The next time Divina made a sound was when she turned over on her side and tipped the entire laundry basket over with her, again. The initial shock rendered her silent as she shook her head and came to with a soft whine. She managed to push herself up on all fours, the basket turning upright again. 

Enid slid off her bed and put her laptop aside, smiling down at the groggy baby, who was rubbing her red-rimmed eyes with closed fists. She scooped her up so quickly that Divina made a surprised noise as she rested her head on her shoulder and stuck her fingers in her mouth. Her eyes adjusted to the sunlight glittering through the window, squinting at the holographic effect that cast over her arms. She caught sight of Enid’s sunshine pendant shimmering in pink and orange, and wrapped her fingers around it in awe.

“Good morning, sleepyhead! Did you have a good nap? I’m sure you did!” Enid cooed at her as she patted her diaper. She crinkled her nose. “Eugh. You need a change for sure. Stinky.”

Divina’s eyes moved up to Enid, and Enid swore she saw her upper lip curl in anger. Suddenly the gold chain around her neck tightened as the baby yanked it into her fist until the chain sunk into her skin.  

“Ah!” Enid gagged, trying to unravel the iron grip Divina had on her necklace. “Let go! Wednesday! She’s choking me!”

The chain only constricted around her neck, Divina violently tugging away at it. The baby was grinning and showing off her two bottom teeth that she most definitely did not have yesterday.

“Wednesday!”

Wednesday sighed, still jotting down a few notes. “Stop being dramatic, Enid. I’m trying to focus.”

Enid took a deep inhale and worked her thumb between a slimy finger and her necklace, helping Divina unravel her appendages and loosen her grip. When her neck was finally free and she could breathe and the air filled her lungs, Enid glared down at Divina and softly tapped her thigh in what her mother would have referred to as a “love tap.”

“You are a bad baby!” Enid scolded. “Bad, bad, bad!” 

“She’s an infant, Enid,” Wednesday deadpanned from her place in her armchair. “She doesn’t understand the concept of bad behavior. She might have thought that your necklace was a toy and decided that strangling you with it would be a fun game. I admire her taste in play. Pugsley and I used to pretend we were alive during the Salem witch trials, an homage to our ancestors. They’d be proud.” 

Moving Divina to her opposite hip, Enid glared at Wednesday. “She’s got a look in her eyes before she hurts me. It’s like she knows what she’s doing. She thinks it’s funny. That isn’t normal at all.”

Finally, Wednesday gave Enid the time of day and looked up at her. “Enid, I’m extremely close to finding a remedy, and I would greatly appreciate some silence while I take my notes. I see that you are enjoying being a pseudo-parent, but keep it down. I’m not entirely prepared for this to go on any longer.”

“You don’t have much time,” Enid said as she looked at her watch. “They’re totally serious about getting the police involved. It’s after eleven already. You’re running out of time.”  

“Exactly, which is why I need peace and quiet in the meantime,” she retorted. “Change it and keep it quiet, will you?” 

Frowning at Divina, whose eyes darkened at Wednesday, Enid sighed and left a little kiss to the side of her head. Wednesday was being entirely too nonchalant about a situation that could have had them both expelled and shipped back home on opposite ends of the country. That was very much like Wednesday, though, and she wasn’t necessarily surprised by any of it. 

“I need to change her,” Enid told Wednesday again, like her own parrot, after a prolonged moment of eerie silence. She looked towards Divina, nuzzling her nose with hers. “Right? You need a change, don’t you? Yes you do!” 

Divina made a happy noise as she grabbed Enid’s nose in her little hand. She pinched it and giggled when Enid attempted to draw back from her assault. 

“That actually stops me from smelling how stinky you are,” Enid nasally said, using her free hand to pry the hand away from her face. She held it and brought it up to her lips to kiss it. “Now, let’s get you changed.”

Wednesday silently observed as Enid laid Divina on a blanket she had spread over her bed. There was a fresh diaper, the pack of wipes, and the roll of duct tape already there and waiting. Enid was always prepared; for the best, the worst, and the mildly infuriating. 

While Wednesday stole intermittent glances at her roommate, Enid was quick about peeling off the duct tape and getting Divina clean, her face painfully scrunched into an expression of disgust. She was still gentle, despite the dirty work she was having to do. That was a quality Wednesday admired of her. Enid was such a docile creature, even when presented with unpleasant tasks. She was docile under the blood moon, all bloody and beaten after taking down the monster, and she was still docile while handling a soiled baby. 

Sometimes, Wednesday was envious of that quality. Not enough to hate herself, of course, but there was still that thought in the back of her mind that craved the ability to treat others with such care and gentleness, to enjoy the warmth of another human’s flesh against hers. Her fingertips were often brash and violent. Enid’s were always soft and kind. 

“This is the worst part of babies,” Enid said as she continued wiping down the squirmy child, startling Wednesday out of her intense thought. “It’s grosser than blood or puke.”

“That’s what babies do,” she reminded. “Vomit, drool, urinate, defecate. That’s all they are good for.”

Enid wrinkled her nose at Divina and taped the diaper around her hips again. She disposed of the dirty diaper and helped Divina sit up against the pillows, where the little one reclined back and pulled her foot to her mouth. 

“You get the next one,” Enid shuddered as she was sanitizing her hands with her disgusting, fruity-scented sanitizer that was perfectly packaged in a pink spray bottle. “That was totally gross.”

Wednesday kept quiet, writing down a few more notes. The chapter on infant possession had been marginally helpful and offered her some insight as to what she might have done wrong—not that she wanted to admit that she had done anything wrong. It offered a simple yet promising remedy that required the use of a talisman, and though she was hesitant to use yet another object in her spell work, she decided that taking the risk was far better than leaving Divina a facsimile baby for her and Enid to parent in their dorm room. 

Eventually graduation would arrive and they would no longer be able to look after Divina together. Wednesday was certain that this wouldn’t last forever, that her time she shared with Enid at Nevermore was only temporary and nothing they did inside those four walls would haunt them when they were twenty or thirty. The memories would be fleeting and offer a sore comfort as she moved about her life before she would forget about it entirely in favor of writing another book. And sometimes, if Wednesday gave it some real thought, it frightened her. 

When she next looked at Enid, she realized that she had been staring a little too hard. Enid had all of her attention at different points of the day. Glances were frequently stolen and stares were given whenever Wednesday found her roommate painted in a pretty light; so, frequently. 

She couldn’t have been obsessed with her; no, she was merely just admiring. Wednesday didn’t obsess over people. True crime cases and her stalker, maybe, but never people. No one was ever worthy of that amount of time spent. She had never looked at a person with such intensity or gave them so much as a second thought. Some could have argued that she’d given Tyler enough attention to be considered infatuated, but when she had the time to recount her encounters with him, she quickly surmised that he was only manipulating her on behalf of Laurel. He had never actually loved or even liked her beyond what vulnerability she could’ve offered him. He wanted something from her, and though there was a valid argument to made—that it wasn’t really him and was all Laurel—she couldn’t shake the fact that she had been used. 

But Enid wasn’t trying to use her. At least, she didn’t think so. Wednesday was good at reading people, and judging by the way Enid smiled at her and excitedly shook her shoulders whenever her blog received a little more attention, she decided that the wolf wasn’t such a horrible person. Yet, there was doubt. Tyler had smiled at her and offered her pleasantries and made her feel pretty, even for a minute. And he hurt her and nearly murdered Enid, who was only trying to protect her. 

She didn’t trust people. Sometimes there was faint doubt that Enid was simply a normal teenage girl with normal ambitions. Sometimes Wednesday would sit up in bed in the middle of the night and observe sleeping Enid from afar, just to see if her roommate would shift into a monster. She would give it a good ten minutes before deciding that nothing was going to happen, and then she would sink back into the pillows and wait for morning light to arrive. 

“Wednesday,” Enid said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with Divina in her lap. “She needs to eat again. A bottle and some solids. You think she likes mashed potatoes? Teenage Divina loves them.”

“I don’t know, Enid,” Wednesday sighed, putting her pencil down. “Perhaps you could fetch her something soft to eat while I finish up this chapter. I’m running out of time. If anyone is genuinely serious about following through with a missing persons report, things are going to spiral very quickly if I don’t at least attempt to fix this now.” 

“They are serious,” Enid nervously said, standing Divina up in her lap. “They’re looking everywhere for her. Yoko hasn’t had blood in almost two days, and she hasn’t been eating. For a vampire, that’s dangerous. . .for everyone around her. She needs blood, and if she doesn’t drink soon, she might let the intrusive thoughts win and feed from someone she’s mad at.”

Wednesday’s eyes moved up to Enid’s. “And I suppose that someone is me. She has a vendetta against me. She immediately thought to blame me because I was the last to see Divina in her usual form. I don’t appreciate being blamed and accused without probable cause.”

“Well, there is probable cause,” Enid replied. “You don’t exactly have the best reputation around here. We’re so lucky that Weems hasn’t thought to tear our room apart. She’s clearly very sus about you. We’ve managed to escape her tirade.” 

Exhaling, Wednesday curled into herself. “For now.”

Enid nodded and stood up, bouncing Divina in the air. The baby giggled and reached for Enid’s hair again, fingers twisting into blonde and blue strands before she shoved it into her mouth. 

“I don’t know why I even bother showering anymore,” she sighed, wrestling Divina for her hair back. “You are so gross and slimy. Yes, you are!”

Releasing Enid’s hair, Divina leaned back in her arms a little and wrinkled her button nose. Enid went to boop it with her finger but was quickly reprimanded for her words by Divina taking it into her mouth and clamping down around it hard enough to draw blood with her two new teeth.

“Ow!” Enid cried. “Wednesday! She bit me!”

Wednesday was slightly amused and attempted not to give a sliver of a smile. She looked up from her book and watched as Enid fought to work her finger out from between two tiny lips.

“I told you to fetch her something to eat,” Wednesday said. “She’s becoming a cannibal.” 

Enid sighed to herself and brushed Divina’s hair away from her forehead. She stole a few precarious glances at her roommate, wondering if it would be an appropriate time to request a favor of her. Wednesday seemed relaxed enough despite the tension in her jaw, and Enid wasn’t afraid of her, even if she should’ve been. 

“Watch her,” she said. “I feel like she’s trying to cause trouble.” 

Suddenly, Divina was planted in Wednesday’s lap. Wednesday immediately reacted with a sound of disgust and recoiled in surprise as the little one wriggled around and flailed her arms like she was at a rave. 

“Enid, I’m not in the mood, nor do I have time to babysit,” she complained, shifting Divina so she was wedged between her side and the arm of the chair. Divina sunk into the divot, unable to move about. “I would have been done ages ago if it weren’t for all these distractions. I understand that you find her oh-so precious and think that this entire parenting thing is a fun role play, but there are more important matters at hand right now.” 

“But I can’t take her to the cafeteria with me,” Enid said. “And if you go to get food, you’ll definitely lose time. Also, Yoko is super fucking—sorry, fricking—mad right now. If she even sees you, she’ll jump you and start feeding from you. She hasn’t had any blood in awhile, and she also hasn’t been eating any food or drinking water. She’s a ticking time bomb. It’s not a matter of it, it’s a matter of when. So maybe it’s best that you don’t leave the dorm. She’s totally capable of feeding from someone. I’ve seen her hunt in the woods sometimes. It’s not a pretty sight.” 

Wednesday’s eyes did that shifty thing again. They moved from the book, to squirmy Divina, then up at Enid. She was mildly intrigued, holding her notepad and pen to her chest as she ran her tongue over her lips. 

“I’ve always wanted to be bitten by a vampire,” she finally said. 

Enid tossed her head back and sighed at the ceiling. “Wednesday. Stop it. I don’t want you to have any more run-ins with anyone. Weems is totally gonna get even more suspicious if she sees you grabbing food to bring back here.”

“She must be already suspicious by the fact that I’ve been forced to forgo my extracurriculars and other activities,” Wednesday replied, sorely thinking of her missed archery practice and what would have been a fulfilling fencing match with Bianca this afternoon. “I am very surprised that she’s not thought to check in with any of the staff to see if I even bothered to attend. More than that, I’m baffled that she hasn’t thought to interrogate you.”

Watching Divina slobber all over her hand and the leather of the armchair, Enid contemplated her next course of action. Of course, she was useless in the spell department, but it could have been argued that Wednesday was likely no better. She had to bring something to the table if she wasn’t going to be of any real use in finding a remedy. 

“Fine. I’ll go get her something to eat,” she sighed. “But if Weems catches on, we’re both dead. I’m gonna get expelled for this! Do you really want me to go back to San Francisco? Because that’s what’s gonna happen if this goes too far and Weems finds out that I’ve been your accomplice this entire time.”

Wednesday dropped her book into her lap and blinked a few times at Enid. She was making intense eye contact, analyzing the way the blue in Enid’s owlish eyes faded from ocean to sky and back again. They did that sometimes, whenever she was in distress. Wednesday despised herself for knowing that about her, and she despised the world even more for allowing her to see it so many times. 

“That isn’t going to happen,” she promised, shaking her head. “I will take the fall for this if it goes awry. I will ensure that you are not expelled. I, on the other hand, will accept my fate. I think I deserve that much. I’m great at negotiating deals and plea bargains.”

That didn’t seem to satiate Enid. She shook her head in disagreement, folding her arms over her chest. 

“That’s not any better,” she told Wednesday, suddenly going quiet. “Wednesday, I don’t want to be separated from you. Not for something as stupid as this, not for anything. I agreed to help you because you are my friend and roomie for life. We are a package deal. So much has happened in the past few months that we’ve known each other, and I don’t wanna see you go again. It hurt me so badly when you left the first time, before everything went down. I don’t like when stuff like that happens. It’s too scary for me.” 

Wednesday was more than puzzled by Enid’s words. One of the many traits of a neuro-typical person was their need for hinting and beating around the bush, as she had once read on Enid’s laptop when she had to borrow it after the library failed to provide adequate information. She knew Enid was attempting imply something without outright telling her, and that was absolutely infuriating. 

“If you are feeling or thinking something, just say it aloud,” she said to Enid, suddenly going cold on her roommate. “I don’t appreciate when people speak to me in riddles. I love to investigate and hunt monsters; I don’t like to sit here in boredom as you attempt to be mysterious with your dialogue, especially when I’m meant to be preoccupied with other things that require my attention.”

“Fine,” Enid said after a moment of hesitation. “I don’t want us to be apart again. I was stupid to leave the first time, when I was really pissed—I mean, angry—at you for the stunt you pulled at the Gates mansion. I had a really bad temper, and I so regretted it after I calmed down at Yoko’s. And then you got kicked out for being a little shit, and for awhile, that was the last time I saw you not bloody and beaten. You haven’t been the same since, and I get why, but I’m scared to be apart from you again, because you might not be the same as the last time I saw you. And that’s if I ever see you again. It’s possible that, the next time we’re separated, we’ll never come back.” 

Wednesday’s mouth dried out. Enid was standing there in the late-morning sunlight, full of glitter and sun rays. Wednesday had always hated sunshine and orange light, but on Enid, it fit just right. Enid was nothing without her Neapolitan-colored sweaters and the sunlight that made her eyes an ocean of words. There was so much she wanted to say, and all she had to do to be heard was to meet Wednesday’s eyes for one second.

In that moment, Enid was trying to tell her that she didn’t want to leave her, that she was terrified of what was to come after graduation. Wednesday didn’t have to be part of the neuro-typical crowd to understand that much.

“I told you that I would not forget you,” said Wednesday. “And I meant that.”

“Yeah, but. . .it’s not gonna be the same,” Enid replied. She was quiet and uncertain, staring at the floor. “We’re gonna be adults and forget about each other.”

“Enid,” Wednesday exhaled. When Enid’s eyes met hers, she visibly relaxed and tilted her chin up at her. “I will not forget you. Every time I see a rainbow smeared over the horizon or hear a wolf howling in the woods during my investigations, I will fondly think of you and reminisce on the time we spent together.” 

Enid’s metaphorical ears perked up. She tilted her head like a glorified dog and rounded her eyes. Wednesday wanted to murder her for that, for her ability to have such a tight hold on her with just her baby blues and pink lips that shined with pineapple-flavored lipgloss. What Wednesday loathed even more than the hold Enid’s lips had on her, was the fact that she frequently watched her roommate apply that same pineapple lipgloss in a compact mirror and wondered, just briefly, what it would taste like if she just—

“I promise I won’t forget you,” Enid added. “But just make sure to call or write or whatever it is you do. Okay?”

Wednesday nodded. “I might entertain the idea of a cellphone to keep in touch with you. I refuse to bow down to the addiction of technology, but if we are due to be on opposite sides of the country, perhaps farther than that, I suppose I should take advantage of such a quick communication method so there won’t be a wedding and a child between letters.” 

If Wednesday was honest with herself and did some genuine self-reflection, she didn’t want to even consider the possibility that she and Enid would become a few letters in the mailbox or a “hello, how are you?” text every few months whenever she saw a rainbow after a storm or heard a familiar pop song playing in a bookstore. She didn’t want a wedding invitation to greet her mail slot on a boring, rainy afternoon with an RSVP from former Enid Sinclair, soon to be Mrs. Whoever. She didn’t want to wake up one day in New Jersey and receive word from a past Nevermore acquaintance that Enid had given birth to a child in California and was doing “just fine.” She didn’t want to receive a random photo through text on Halloween of a baby dressed in a hideous pumpkin costume, only to be followed up with silence for a couple of months until she would receive the obligatory Sinclair-Whoever Christmas card in the mail. And then she would be invited to a first birthday party, where she would slide in, drop off a gift and tell Enid that she missed her, and leave without anyone becoming wise to how she truly felt. 

“I’m not gonna have that many kids, Wednesday,” Enid laughed to herself. “Or any at all. I don’t know yet.”

“Unfortunately my parents said the same thing,” Wednesday said, returning to examining her book. “And do not rely on the idea of birth control. One hour missed and suddenly you have. . .” Her eyes moved to Divina, whose eyes had a faraway look about them. “That.” 

Enid curled her hands into herself. “Are you saying that you’re a failed birth control baby?”

Turning another page, Wednesday looked up at Enid for a split second. “Broken condom.” 

It took all of Enid’s strength to prevent her from laughing. “And you know this how?”

“When I was thirteen, my parents decided that the moment our guests left my birthday party was the time to sit me down and have a nice chat about sexual health and protection,” she said, shuddering with disgust. “They made note that the only reason they had to organize my birthday party at all was because birth control is not 100% effective against pregnancy.” 

“So you’re only here because the condom broke,” Enid concluded. “Got it.”

“Pugsley was planned and conceived after a few months of. . .trying. I pity him. He was going to exist no matter the cost or trouble,” she sighed to herself. “I, on the other hand, happened by chance and mistake. Had my parents chosen to be abstinent that day, I would have been spared this existence.” 

“But then I wouldn’t have you,” Enid said, hopeful. “I love that the condom broke. Because now you’re here! And you’re the best roommate I’ve ever had!”

“I suppose them keeping me and raising me as an Addams was a better alternative than dumping me with another family who couldn’t handle my oddities,” Wednesday bitterly muttered, looking over at Divina, who had pulled her foot into her mouth. “I wouldn’t have ever assumed that her parents gave her and Kent up for adoption. They seem well-adjusted. Well, beyond that strange thing Divina does when she spaces out like she’s having war flashbacks.”

“Well, they’re still being raised by sirens,” she said, hesitating as Divina dropped her leg and leaned into Wednesday. “They don’t talk about their family much. I’ve met them once. They seem like regular people. Their birth parents were really young and knew they couldn’t take care of two kids fresh out of high school. It’s wild, really. Imagine us having kids at this age.” 

Wednesday made a discontented sound with her tongue as she begrudgingly watched Divina lay her head on her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re too far off.” 

If Wednesday looked closely enough, she swore she saw Enid wink. 

That werewolf was surely out to send her into cardiac arrest someday. Someday soon, even. Ajax frequently coined Enid as a “little flirt,” even after their breakup. At first, that term aggravated Wednesday, but the more she observed Enid’s mannerisms, the more she understood. Though, she would have rather used the word “charming.” 

“I think it’s time for you to fetch that food, no?” Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah,” Enid replied and shook her head. She was the human embodiment of a paradox, always contradictory and never in line with her mouth and brain. “I’ll be back soon.”

Wednesday didn’t watch her go this time. She heard the door open and shut, and then she looked towards Divina, who was hyper-fixated on a floral portrait hanging on Enid’s side of the room. Her cheeks were dimpled in intense concentration and her tiny hands were pressed to her wet lips. 

“Please don’t be soiling your diaper again,” Wednesday complained. “Enid just changed you. I’m not going to touch any of your bodily fluids or functions. That is not my job.”

Divina quietly mewled and brought her fingers into her mouth, sucking away as she continued to stare in a faraway trance, like she wasn’t even part of their world anymore. Wednesday took concern to heart and snapped her fingers in front of the baby’s face, startling the little one long enough for her to turn her head towards the sound.

“What are you thinking about in that pea-sized brain of yours?” she asked, moving Divina into her lap after reluctantly closing the book and setting it aside. She helped her stand in her lap, holding onto her hands to balance her. “Tell me. Are you conscious and aware of your existence?”

Divina made a noise that almost sounded like a “yes.” For a split second, Wednesday found herself doubting the spell. Divina seemed responsive more than a baby her age should have been. Babies did not have a concept of self until well over a year, and Divina couldn’t even crawl yet, so her finding awareness in her body and surroundings was a preposterous hypothesis. Still, Wednesday continued to ponder and looked into those siren eyes. 

“You keep zoning out and staring off into the distance like a character in a soap opera,” said Wednesday. “What are you thinking about? Is there something you would like to tell me but can’t?”

Staring directly into Wednesday’s eyes, Divina softly cooed and lowered herself into her lap. A chubby hand laid over Wednesday’s left cheek and stuck itself there. It was wet and warm and disgusting, just like a soiled diaper or a drool-infested blanket. 

“You are thinking about something,” Wednesday declared. “I don’t think you are an ignorant baby as I had once presumed.” 

She was suddenly acutely aware that there was a possibility that Divina’s mental state had not been reduced to an infant’s and she was still partially conscious enough to make sense of her surroundings despite being unable to take control of her physical being and actions. If that was the case, Divina surely had to have felt humiliated by being trapped in a regressed state of self and unable to help herself. She was probably longing for Yoko and Kent and even her parents, wondering if she would ever see them as she once did. 

“I’m going to fix this,” Wednesday promised her, allowing her to stand again. Divina wobbled on her feet and leaned into her for support. “For once, I do feel sorry for you. I take pity upon your existence, and though I’d never tell your teenage self this, I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you and those who care for you. I hope, once this has passed, you can find it in yourself to forgive me for my actions.” 

Divina responded to that by slapping Wednesday’s mouth and pulling at her braids, giggling to herself as she sank into her lap and used Wednesday’s knees to push herself off the chair, suddenly more than capable of moving on her own. 

Wednesday glared down at the baby, who was now on all fours, prepared to crawl away. 

“If you dare become mobile now, you’ll find yourself abandoned at the nearest firehouse,” she threatened. She could taste salty drool on her lips. “Don’t you dare move.” 

There was a twinkle in Divina’s eyes as she boosted herself up onto her knees and pressed her palms flat onto the floor. 

“You’re trying to punish me for all I’ve done this weekend,” Wednesday stated, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, though it was far too late to avoid whatever germs Divina had in her mouth. “Don’t do it, you little cretin. I refuse to chase after you.” 

Swiveling her head to give Wednesday a glance, Divina gave her a cheesy grin and pushed herself forward, finally getting that first real crawl she had been attempting for so long. 

Wednesday’s jaw trembled with disgust, and after a few minutes of watching the baby crawl around on shaky limbs and sweeping a trail of drool along the clean floor, the door swung open again and Enid entered with a tray full of food and two milk cartons. She stopped just before Divina, lifting her foot in surprise.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, balancing the tray in one hand. “Wednesday! Our baby is mobile! She’s crawling now!” 

“I know,” Wednesday muttered. “I have eyes.” 

Suddenly, she lifted her head and narrowed her eyes at her roommate. Enid had said the word “our,” with a heavy implication behind it. Wednesday didn’t want to claim Divina or Enid—what a nightmare that would have been—but she wasn’t exactly disgusted or repulsed by the idea. She didn’t challenge it, rather picking up her book and sticking her nose in it. 

She got nothing accomplished or read for the next half hour while Enid sat across the room and fed Divina, who intermittently looked up from her spoonful of applesauce to give Wednesday a grin that reached her eyes.

—

When Divina’s belly was filled to the brim with applesauce and a nice coating of milk to wash it down, she quickly ensured that it filtered out within an hour so Enid would have something to keep her hands occupied. She was uncomfortably squirming, holding onto an emotional support fidget cube that Enid had given her to bide herself some time as she wrangled the dirty diaper off Divina and began working to clean her up.

“Uh-oh!” Enid exclaimed with a soft coo as she was wiping Divina with a cold wipe. “Somebody has a diaper rash!” 

There was a smattering of red on Divina’s bottom. The patch was inflamed and angry, and surely it had to hurt the slightest bit, especially to a sensitive baby with soft, fragile skin. Divina seemed rather unfazed by it, too busy gumming on the fidget toy in her mouth. 

“I don’t have anything to soothe it,” Enid said as she pondered and surveyed the open space around herself. “Wednesday? What do you do for a diaper rash?” 

Wednesday shifted upon hearing her roommate’s voice return to its normal octave. Enid had been speaking in baby language and mother-ese for the past day, and as she dragged out every letter in a pitched voice, Wednesday contemplated just how much she would miss her if she murdered her.

“How am I meant to know that, Enid?” she sighed. “I am not interested in parenting. I’m not one to simply pick up a parenting magazine and flip through mind-numbing articles on the woes of dirty diapers and the over-exaggerated joys of nursing. This is not my forte. I’m only slightly educated in human behaviors and child development. I don’t know what to do for a diaper rash, nor do I want to know. That information is useless to me.”

“You could’ve just said no,” said Enid, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re frustrated, but so am I. This is a super stressful situation. We could both get kicked out for this. And Divina could stay like this. I feel frustrated, too, ya know. But I’m still helping you. So don’t give me the know-it-all, self-righteous attitude. It’s annoying sometimes.”

Wednesday went silent, lifting her head to give Enid an incredulous look. She didn’t want to become a disappointment to Enid, and she certainly didn’t want to hurt her. Enid had been taken advantage of more times than Wednesday would have liked to know about, and she had essentially been used as a doormat and placeholder for the daughter that her parents couldn’t have. She didn’t want to be yet another reason Enid felt used and abused by someone. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “I don’t have any valuable information on this subject. I cannot help you.” 

Enid nodded. “That’s better.” 

If Enid had been anyone else, Wednesday would have gone off the rails at Enid giving her such a pompous attitude about it, but Enid was Enid and Wednesday wasn’t inclined to stifle that about her. While Wednesday didn’t feel as though she needed to be put in “her place,” Enid was certainly good at shutting her up. 

“You know, Wednesday, I think you and I make a great team together,” the wolf continued as she finished cleaning Divina up and slid a fresh diaper under her bottom. She wasn’t looking at Wednesday, more so speaking to her via passiveness as she spoke. “How many other teenagers can say they raised a baby together and it didn’t die?”

“Let’s not be so sure yet. The day is still young,” Wednesday muttered. “And there is an epidemic of teen pregnancy. Plenty of teenagers have raised children. In fact, just a hundred years ago, it was quite common for people to become parents before their 20th birthday. This was due to a patriarchal society that promoted women tending to the home. They had no access to freedom to vote or decide if, when, or where they would have children. Those generations managed to survive in such conditions.” 

“Yeah, with lead poisoning,” Enid joked as she taped up Divina’s diaper. She scooped up the baby and propped her up on one hip, finally looking to Wednesday. “This has been fun, but I don’t know if I want kids. I mean, that’s kinda the point in being a werewolf, to continue the bloodline and continue mating. But I think there’s more to that. But I also know that my mom is going to pressure me to find a male wolf and settle down with him. She’ll be happy if I just give her one grandchild. Though everyone in my family has had at least two biological kids to keep things going. I have to give them at least two grandkids if I want to ensure our bloodline keeps going. Two gives us a better chance than one.” 

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. That’s an outdated notion that was phased out during the first feminist movement, when women were granted access to their own bank accounts and credit cards.”

“Yeah, but. . .” Enid paused, licking her lips nervously. “Your family is so different. You’re not pressured to have kids. You can do whatever you want and no one will say anything about it. For us, it’s different. Our whole existence revolves around finding a mate and settling down to have kids. Once the pups get older and can go to school, then I can get back to who I was before. But for about ten years, life revolves around raising the next generation. My mom still stays at home, and I’m the youngest of the pack.”

Enid was already speaking of herself as if she had already decided upon having children. Wednesday wondered if she had already selected names for them, and more sickening than that, she wondered what those names were. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what her offspring would look like, but she hoped they took Enid’s eyes and hair, at least. 

“Are you gonna have kids?” 

The question was easy and should have yielded an easy answer, but for Wednesday, things weren’t so simple. She didn’t want any children; at least, not at that particular moment. The idea of incubating a fetus for nine months and bearing the pain of childbirth to fit in with society was gruesomely disgusting. There was no appeal beyond her curiosity of just how painful unmedicated childbirth was. Everything else—the pregnancy, the feeling of something moving around inside of her, sharing her body with a new life for months after birth when it was so tiny and needed to suckle like a needy barn animal—made her skin crawl and her flesh peel off her bones. She didn’t understand how so many people could withstand such things and come out alive.

“Wednesday?” Enid startled her. “Are you having kids?”

“I am against the idea,” she replied. “My body has been my own for 16 years. Why must I sacrifice it to conform to society? I don’t quite enjoy the idea of chasing after children, wiping mucus and feces, and using a sensitive part of my body to nourish a newborn. I’m not very interested in that. In fact, I’d rather claw my eyes out and swallow them whole than do any of that.”

“You can adopt,” Enid continued to press. “I’m sure someone would give you their kid if you act normal around them.”

Wednesday made a growling noise. Enid took a step back and awkwardly shifted Divina to her other hip. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or anything,” she said. “I just meant that, if you want a kid—“

“I don’t want a kid,” Wednesday interjected. “Now if you’ll leave me be and keep that thing entertained, I might actually get through this without tearing my hair out.”

Enid lowered her head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I wasn’t offended,” Wednesday assured, completely monotonous. “I’m very flattered that you find me to be an abnormal specimen. However, I don’t want to discuss any future plans. I’m uninterested in having children or procreating, I don’t care about my bloodline, and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I enjoy that people dislike me. It sets me apart from the others.”

“Oh,” was all Enid could respond with. That wasn’t necessarily what she was anticipating to hear. “Well, I’m glad I could give you the compliment then?”

“Perhaps,” Wednesday halfheartedly replied. “Now be quiet. I have important matters to tend to.”

Nodding, Enid sat on the edge of her bed with Divina and turned on Ms Rachel to keep her occupied while she updated her blog. If the word of this mishap got out, she would have something intriguing to write about, but until then, she would have to settle for discussing the latest breakup between a couple of the vampires that nearly ended in bloodshed. 

—

“I’ve found a solution.”

After a few episodes of Ms Rachel and another hour of Wednesday slicing paper cuts into her fingers, she snapped the spell book closed and surveyed her notes. She had managed to fill an entire page of notes written sideways and along the margins when she ran out of space. 

Enid stopped blowing raspberries on Divina’s belly, looking up at Wednesday, who had suddenly materialized next to her bed. 

“You did?” she asked, sitting the baby upright in her lap. “Are you sure it’ll work?” 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Wednesday replied. “I need a talisman. Something in relation to the subject. Preferably something made of stone or a ring. Those hold more power, as they’re typically in relation to love or devotion. In theory, I could use my own talisman, but it’s much more effective if I use something of hers. There is an invisible string between us and the things we give power to.” 

Enid thought for a moment. “When I picked up her clothes, I found her ring, too. It’s real. Her mom gave it to her to wear for protection against evil. Kent has one, too. I put it in the pocket of her pants. Maybe you can try that.” 

“Bring it to me,” Wednesday demanded. “Let me have the child.” 

Careful of Wednesday’s frazzled demeanor, Enid slid off the bed and passed Divina along to her. Wednesday brought her to the center of the room and carefully laid her down where teenaged Divina once sat, taking care not to damage her head any more than it had already been. The bruise was a sickly purple painted above her eyebrow. Enid went to retrieve Divina’s ring from the pile of clothes she had stashed underneath her bed. 

“I need my salt,” said Wednesday, turning to her trunk to grab the salt she had used in the first ritual—the one that had gotten her into this mess to begin with. “This will act as a protective barrier.” 

Ring in hand, Enid stood up. “It didn’t protect you the first time.”

Wednesday wrinkled her nose. “It’s what the spell calls for. You are not to alter spells and rituals. They can end in catastrophe.”

“I don’t think it can get much worse than this,” Enid remarked, glancing at Divina, who was chewing on her toes again. 

“Just hand me the ring,” Wednesday demanded, ripping the opal ring out of Enid’s hand. “And remain silent. This is extremely serious and could have disastrous consequences for all of us if there are any rifts in it. Don’t give me a reason to kick you out.”

Enid pushed herself into a corner as Wednesday sprinkled some salt around Divina and clutched the ring in her hand. She had her spell book propped open on the floor, flipped to a page in the very back, where the spell was hiding from her. It was accompanied by all sorts of warnings printed in red ink, but that didn’t exactly deter her. 

“Wednesday,” Enid nervously said, biting her thumbnail.

“Enid,” Wednesday muttered. “Hush. Or you get out.”

Bowing her head, Enid closed her mouth. She didn’t want to argue with Wednesday any more than she already had. They were meant to be a unit, a team, a dynamic duo. They weren’t meant to argue and fight over who was right or wrong. Enid had her opinions, but she didn’t think that she would win an argument with someone as hardheaded as Wednesday.

Wednesday dimmed the overhead lights and picked up the book, sitting it in the crook of her elbow and using that same hand to hold onto the top of it so it was resting against her forearm. She had Divina’s ring in her opposite fist, sweaty and anxious against her palm. The weight of it was so much denser than she would’ve thought just by looking at the size of it. The stone was cool in comparison to her hand, which had warmed significantly with the worry that she wasn’t cut out for any of this. 

A shaky breath left Wednesday’s mouth. She reviewed the spell once more before closing her eyes again and lifting the ring over Divina, hooking it onto one fingertip as she moved it in a circular motion. She could hear Divina cooing and making those happy noises. Wednesday wouldn’t have been surprised if Enid was attempting to distract her by making silly faces and entertaining her so she wouldn’t roll over and lick the salt off the floor. 

“Lumbar, dison, pox and thither, curad, brattle, bone and brine,” she chanted, quietly and evenly. “Lumbar, dison, pox and thither, curad, brattle, bone and brine!” 

She peeled her eyes open, hopeful. Her heart plummeted to her feet as she took note of Divina, still very much an infant, grinning at her and gumming around her hand. The baby kicked her legs and giggled before bringing her feet to her mouth and taking interest in chewing her toes. 

“Bone and brine!” Wednesday exclaimed, glaring down at Divina, who made another sound and continued chewing her feet. 

Enid raised a concerned eyebrow at her roommate. Wednesday snapped the spell book closed and tucked it under her arm, lifting her head to look Enid dead in the eye.

“She’s stubborn,” she told her, her lower jaw trembling with what felt like genuine fear. “It works on cats!”

While Wednesday anxiously flipped through her notes and compared them to the spell book’s warnings, Enid concentrated her eyes on the floor and held her thumb in her mouth. She had already sloughed off the majority of the skin on her thumbnail, something that always annoyed Wednesday. Sometimes she would catch Wednesday staring in absolute repulsion, and once or twice, Wednesday yanked her thumb away from her altogether. She hoped Wednesday didn’t notice this time. 

As Wednesday cursed to herself and continued rifling through the book, Enid fixated on Divina, watching her roll around and ignorantly do all the things that babies did. Maybe being a baby for all eternity wouldn’t have been such an awful thing. The world was cruel and people were monsters. But Enid also had to consider Yoko and Kent. They were clearly devastated, and Yoko was worrying herself sick in the head the longer this went on. It wasn’t exactly fair to them, and more concerning than that, Divina’s vanishing was going to make headlines very soon. 

Jericho was still reeling from the monster finally being apprehended. If someone else went missing, there would be talk amongst the locals and suspicions and rumors flying around. Enid didn’t want to be one of two who knew the truth, and she couldn’t take care of Divina forever. They were already running out of diapers and their dorm was no place to raise a baby outside of the sunlight. Wednesday didn’t even want this predicament with Enid, much less decide that them parenting little Divina was a better alternative to coming clean about what had really happened. 

Wednesday absentmindedly twirled the ring in her hand, catching Enid’s attention. Enid pondered for a moment and quickly came to a conclusion. Her wet thumb dropped to her side. 

“Well, the ring is used for protection,” she told Wednesday. “Against witchcraft. Divina’s family is extremely Catholic and are close with the church. If they find out that she’s been involved with it, they’re going to flip their shit. They believe in the evil eye and all that.”

“Mal ojo,” Wednesday said, nodding. “I am familiar.” 

“If that ring is to ward off evil and witchcraft, it’s probably not going to work for this,” she concluded. “This is considered witchcraft. That ring is super old and was passed down to her from her mother, who got it from her mother, so on and so forth, blah blah blah.” 

Wednesday held the ring in her palm and ran a thumb along the smooth stone. She didn’t want to give Enid any power by telling her she might’ve been right about that suspicion, but she had to hand it to her. It seemed as though Enid had been paying more attention than she had once thought. Despite what anyone might’ve said about her, Enid was not shallow, nor did she fit the “ditzy blonde” trope portrayed in films and media. She was intelligent and it showed whenever Wednesday was around. 

“Perhaps you’re onto something,” she told Enid, looking up at her. “I need another talisman. Something important of hers that holds no religious value or protection against the evil they believe in.” 

Hesitating, Enid licked her lips. “You’re not gonna make me steal something from her dorm, are you?”

“Well, I’m putting in the work to perform the spell,” Wednesday huffed, expectant. “You can do your share and fetch something of value.”

“Get Thing to do it,” Enid whined. “I’m gonna get caught!”

“Enid, it’s either you do it, or we’re talking dimples,” she said, becoming flustered. Her heart fluttered in her throat, and she hoped Enid couldn’t tell.

“That’s not a bad thing,” she replied as she threw her hands in the air. “You have dimples!” 

“I do not!” 

She had been hoping that Enid wouldn’t have noticed those little dimples she had whenever she smirked or attempted to suppress a genuine smile. But Enid noticed everything. She understood everything about Wednesday. 

“I’m not doing this, Wednesday,” Enid continued to press, shaking her head. “I lo—I like you and all, but no.” 

She was trying to be succinct about it, but something pulled at her and insisted she offer Wednesday more. There was so much she wanted to tell her, so much that wanted to fall from her lips. Yet she couldn’t go so far; not when Wednesday was beyond worked up. 

“Enid, I’m asking for one favor of you.” 

Enid shrugged. “And I’m saying no. I think I’ve done enough favors. I mean, I can get in serious trouble with Weems. I’m not gonna go steal Divina’s stuff. Besides, I heard that her roommate is keeping guard of their room. She’s panicking and thinking whoever stole Divina wants her next.”

“I don’t want that mangy werewolf,” Wednesday said. “Nor do I care about her. She can’t stay there forever. She has to leave sometime.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” Enid insisted, quite literally putting her foot down as she angrily stomped the floor. “I know you’re used to getting your way, but I’m telling you no, and for a good reason.”

Wednesday lowered the book to her side and surveyed Enid with narrowed eyes. Enid wasn’t going to budge. She was standing firm and tall, hands behind her back as she sized Wednesday up—not that it was at all difficult to do. 

“You must enjoy this predicament,” she told Enid with a soft sigh. “Otherwise you’d be willing to get your hands dirty.”

“Trust me, they’re dirty enough,” Enid retorted, glancing down at Divina and back up at Wednesday. “I’m putting my foot down with you. You’re my partner in crime and everything else—“

“—What is that implying—?”

“—And I totally get why you’re being hardheaded, but I’m telling you no because you’re gonna get us both in trouble and we’ll never see each other again,” Enid completed with blatant disregard for Wednesday’s disruptive inquiry. Her face was warm to the touch. “And. . .I actually care about you. I know you might not understand that, because so many people have hurt you, but I do care about you.”

There was that painful lump in the back of Wednesday’s throat again. It was tight and felt like a golfball. Enid knew just what to say to have her tongue tied and dumbfounded. No one else could ever have that effect on her. Even Tyler hadn’t been good about rendering her completely speechless; not the way Enid did. Enid didn’t try, she simply did it. She never tried to gain Wednesday’s attention or make her any offers to win her over. All she did was treat her like a human being who just so happened to have certain quirks that would make anyone else violently ill.

“You don’t have to care about me,” she finally told Enid, shaking her head. “I’m not asking that favor of you. I’m asking you to assist me if you do care about me that much.”

“That’s pretty manipulative,” Enid replied. Her expression remained neutral, not wanting to provoke Wednesday further. “Our friendship shouldn’t be based on what we do for each other, and you shouldn’t try to use it to guilt me into things.” 

“Fine,” Wednesday conceded. “I guess I’ll just have to handle this myself.”

“You can’t—“

There was a knock at the door. Wednesday’s head swiveled so quickly, it nearly fell right off her shoulders. She looked at Enid and put a finger to her lips. 

“Pick her up and hide her,” she whispered. “I’ll get the door.”

Ever so obedient, Enid scooped up Divina and tiptoed to her side of the room. She threw around a few glances before settling Divina among her pile of stuffed animals on the floor, nestling her between a giraffe and a whale. She gave her a marker to suckle on and keep quiet before standing up and awkwardly leaning against the foot of her bed.

A shaky breath left Wednesday as she twisted the doorknob and carefully pried the door open just a few inches, sticking her head out. Her eyes met a cream-colored blouse and traveled up to find Weems frowning at her. 

“You seem very disappointed,” Wednesday said, leaving all pleasantries out of it. “I appreciate that I have that effect on you.”

“Miss Addams, open the door and come with me,” Weems demanded. “I have someone who wants to speak to you, right now.”

“Can’t it wait?” Wednesday asked, suddenly tense as her hand gripped the doorknob with force. “I’m due for fencing soon.”

Weems ran a hand through her hair that was done up in a messy claw clip. “Don’t give me any of that, Miss Addams. You missed archery.”

“I was under the weather this morning, but I’m feeling much like myself now,” she quickly replied. “I’m sure this conversation can wait.”

“It cannot.” Weems was practically seething. “Come with me.”

Divina made a soft sound around the marker. Weems’s eyebrows furrowed as she stretched above Wednesday’s head and attempted to get a peek into the room. Wednesday squeezed herself more in the doorframe. 

“What was that?” Weems inquired, growing concerned. 

“Enid,” Wednesday hastily rectified. “She’s watching something on her phone.”

“I see,” the older woman hummed, eyes narrowed and creased at the edges. “Come along. We need to have a serious discussion. I don’t want any excuses out of you this afternoon.”

“Fine, Ms. Weems, if that is what needs to be done,” she finally agreed, grabbing her shoes from beside the door. “Let’s go.”

Slinking out of the room and immediately slamming the door, Wednesday put on her shoes, leaving them untied. Weems put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to press too hard into her skin despite the blood rapidly pumping through her body, and guided her down the stairs.

“What do you feel the need to speak to me about?” Wednesday asked as they were descending the stairs. There was a quiver in her knees, like they wanted to buckle. “I’ve been obedient. I haven’t been exploring or being at all adventurous after nightfall.”

Weems sighed. “While I find that hard to believe, there is something else that needs some investigating.”

“Maybe I could help,” she offered.

“That you will, Miss Addams,” Weems positively hummed to herself. 

Wednesday’s teeth took hold of her bottom lip as they reached the end of the stairs and were weaving past students in the main lobby. The weight of the woman’s hand was surprisingly comfortable and safe against her shoulder. She didn’t want it to leave.

And then it suddenly left. 

They were standing before Weems’s office, and Wednesday stiffened with prominence as the heavy door groaned open. The room was quiet and aglow with orange firelight from the candles and fireplace burning bright. One of the windows had its curtains open to let in some sunlight that glittered over the glass globe sitting on one of the bookshelves. 

“Don’t be shy now,” Weems told Wednesday, easing the young girl into her office. 

Wednesday nearly flinched when the door shut. She took note of someone in a police uniform admiring one of the many painted portraits hung on the wall. They were facing away from Wednesday and only reacted when Weems cleared her throat. 

Weems brought Wednesday in front of herself and held her by the shoulders, soothing the tremble in the girl’s shoulders with a firm and subtle rub of her thumbs. The pressure felt much nicer than Wednesday would have admitted to. In fact, the touch was maternal and reminded her of being small and her mother attempting to reap affection from her. It was appalling, but she couldn’t move. 

“Sheriff, I’ve brought her,” Weems announced, keeping Wednesday close to her body. Her hands tightened around the bony shoulders. “You may question her.” 

Fire crackled and burned Wednesday’s nose. The figure turned around, and she immediately recognized the gait and posture, except he was now much more exhausted and withered than the most recent time she had seen him.

“Sheriff Galpin,” she greeted. Her dead heart was going to thump its way out of her chest as she surveyed him, intaking every new wrinkle in his face and the dark circles under his eyes. “I suppose I’m in some sort of trouble.” 

Sheriff Galpin removed his hat and sighed. “I’m not sure about that yet. But if you are, I’ll be the first one to find out.” 

Chapter Text

It took approximately ten seconds for Wednesday to register Sheriff Galpin’s words. His lips were moving but nothing was leaving them. She tilted her head and took a step back, suddenly unaware that Weems was still holding onto her shoulders and preventing her from toppling over like a breeze had swept in. 

“Sheriff, if I’ve done something to cause you to return here, you need to tell me now so I can return to my scheduled sulking,” she told him. “But I can assure you that I’ve been behaving myself. If you hadn’t noticed, we haven’t run into one another in town since. . .”

There was a pause. She wanted to bring up the monster—his son, who was locked away and restrained at all hours of the day—but she wasn’t that cruel of a person, even if she didn’t particularly like the man. 

“You don’t have to say it,” he gruffly interrupted. “I’ve been on a leave of absence since then, which might’ve been why I haven’t seen you. For all I know, you could’ve been running around town, terrorizing people.” 

“I haven’t,” she assured, lifting her head and looking at the large shadow he cast across one of the walls. “I’ve only recently returned from New Jersey. I’m not interested in causing pain at the moment. I, too, have taken a leave of absence, though not exactly by choice.”

Sheriff Galpin set his hat on the edge of Weems’s desk and sighed again. Everything about him seemed so exhausted. His shoulders were slumped and his uniform was slightly wrinkled. Even the way his eyes creased at the edges told Wednesday that the past few months had nearly sent him over the edge. If she thought long enough and opened her cold heart just a little, she pitied him.

“You are always at the center of a lot of bad things, but you’re a very intelligent girl,” he said. He was quiet a moment before he found the will to speak again, coming around the desk to stand a little closer to her. “Which is why this town is afraid of you.”

“I’m the least thing to be afraid of,” she replied, sure of herself, even as the warm hands clenched tighter around her shoulders. “I think you know that there are far worse things out there. Far worse than you could ever dream of.”

His tired eyes caught hers for a moment before he averted his gaze to the window and watched gray clouds roll in. It was going to rain soon, and Wednesday was beyond excited for it. Finally, something pleasant to offset what was certainly going to be a horrible day for her.

“I don’t think you realize that you’re the talk of the town,” he said. “At least, you are right now. A girl is missing from here and you were the last to see her alive.”

Weems slowly pushed Wednesday forward. “Why don’t we all have a seat and discuss this? I think Wednesday here is a bit tense because of her confusion.”

“I’m not confused,” Wednesday retorted, sneering at Weems as she was manipulated into walking towards the chairs in front of the desk. “I know that Divina is missing. And I have nothing to do with it.”

“Sheriff Galpin just wants to ask you a few questions,” Weems quietly assured as she forced Wednesday into a chair. “Just sit and cooperate and you may return to whatever it is you were doing.” 

Wednesday’s hands grasped onto the leather arms of the chair as she sank down and raised her chin up so she was looking at the woman above her. Weems was meeting her sight, not once wavering or giving her any signal that she was at all pleased with the situation. Her expression had gone cold and unforgiving, and the way her jaw was clenched told Wednesday, you move and you’re done for.

“I don’t appreciate being treated like some sort of suspect,” Wednesday told Weems. “Unless I’m being arrested again, I’d like to return to my room. I don’t know where Divina is. If I did, don’t you think I’d tell you to get you out of my hair?”

“I’ve had enough of your attitude, Miss Addams,” Weems warned. “You are going to sit here and answer the questions to the best of your knowledge. If you try to get up or make any sudden moves, you’re going to regret it.”

Wednesday almost laughed. “What could you possibly do to me that I’ve not done to myself?”

Taking a step back, Weems frowned at her. The coldness melted into that of concern and worry. The stress lines only became more prominent as she focused her attention on the girl sitting like she was guilty of something.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Weems asked. 

Wednesday was silent, having said too much. She loved her secrets, and that woman was not going to take them from her. She was already being accused of something she might have actually done, but that was only because she had built up a negative reputation with Jericho’s authorities. 

“We’ll have this conversation later,” Weems finally decided, drawing back from Wednesday. “It’s best we get this over with as to not waste the sheriff’s time.”

The room was quiet as Weems took her place at her desk and closed her laptop so she could give Sheriff Galpin her entire attention in between glances at Wednesday, who was clearly fighting an urge to curl into herself. 

“Have a seat, please,” she offered the sheriff, gesturing to the empty chair next to Wednesday. “Hopefully we can clear up some things.”

Sheriff Galpin took a seat and sighed as he turned to Wednesday. She was tapping the arms of the chair, feeling as though it had swallowed her whole. For the first time in her life, being confronted by the authorities did not feel or sound at all pleasurable. She didn’t appreciate or desire this, and she wanted to retire to her room and hide under her bed like the scared little girl she felt she was in that moment. 

“I have done nothing wrong,” she insisted. “You are accusing me of a serious crime with baseless speculations and making assumptions based upon my history.”

“That’s not what we’re doing here,” Sheriff Galpin said, shaking his head. It was as if even looking at the girl exhausted him. “You were the last person see Divina alive. I’m only here to figure out what happened to her, and I have to start with you. Her parents are worried about her.”

“How can assume that I was the last to see her alive?” she challenged. Her fingernails almost pierced the expensive leather. “How do you know she didn’t meet or speak to anyone after she left my dorm? Is there any way to prove that?”

“No one else has claimed they saw her since she left to your room for your project,” he replied, grabbing his notepad and pen from his pocket. “I just want to ask a few questions, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Wednesday wanted to burst into tears, and for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel good. She was angry that the blame was automatically being pinned on her when anything could have happened to Divina. All anyone did was blame her based on unfounded suspicions and claims. She would have never intentionally harmed Divina, but no one seemed to believe that about her. They only saw her for the trouble she had caused the town in the previous months. They didn’t see her for who she really could have been; someone who did care for others in her own twisted way. 

“Fine,” she gave in with every intention of stifling the suspicions once and for all. “Proceed with your nonsensical questions about something I have no knowledge in.”

“What did you do yesterday?” Sheriff Galpin asked, ink already seeping into the paper as he anticipated her snarky response. “What did your day look like?”

“As typical as ever. I thrive on routine,” she replied. “I woke up to horrible morning light that burned my corneas off, attended to my personal hygiene while my eyelids were practically swollen shut with sleep, dressed myself in my uniform that makes my brain itch even after ripping off all the tags, and said goodbye to Enid before I left to breakfast, where I had one banana and a slice of dry toast, as I do every morning. They were also serving pancakes. I don’t like pancakes that much. They’re extremely dry and flavorless.” 

Sheriff Galpin didn’t write any of that down. Instead he stared at her, unmoving and almost growing bored of her stories. Wednesday wasn’t at all lying; she had genuinely done those things that morning, as she had always done once she found some sort of routine that satiated her need for continuity. But of course no one believed her. No one ever believed her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she ended up behind bars by the end of the day.

“Could you speed this up a little?” he asked. “What happened the first time you saw Divina yesterday?”

For that question, she had to ponder. Divina wasn’t someone that Wednesday frequently took any note of. She was a boring fixture in an equally boring school, with a boring girlfriend and an even more boring twin brother. There was nothing about her that intrigued Wednesday. She wasn’t Enid and she would never be.

“I recall seeing her in the hallway on my way to first period,” she said, glancing at Weems, who was leaned in on her elbows. “She was in uniform and carrying her armload of books that she doesn’t read. Her hair was done up in a childish hairstyle that made her look like Pebbles from The Flintstones cartoon. She was walking alongside her girlfriend, Yoko. They were laughing together and making obscene gestures with their lips as they made out just outside the conservatory. No one paid any attention.”

“It seems you paid some attention,” he said, writing something down. His eyes caught onto hers and creased at the sides. “You sure do know the details.”

“I don’t know how anyone could miss such a ridiculous and inappropriate display of affection,” she snarled, trying not to kick her feet in anguish as she was being interrogated and judged under his tired eyes. “Can’t they do that in private?”

Sheriff Galpin’s hand paused mid-word. He looked up at her with concern. 

“You seem intolerant of that,” he stated. “Why’s that? What exactly about that bothered you?”

Wednesday’s bottom lip trembled like she wanted to cry. Angry tears welled up to the brim and almost spilled over as she suppressed a scream. She didn’t know what he was trying to imply, and he was certainly making bold assumptions.

“You’re insinuating something,” she said. “What are you trying to imply here, sheriff?”

“You just seemed very disgusted by them. . .being affectionate,” he continued. There was a very captious look about him. “I know there’s still divide about gay people.”

Suddenly she launched herself upright in the chair and leaned forward so she was mere inches from him. He didn’t flinch once, instead leaning into her space. 

“You are implying that I am homophobic and therefore wanted to harm Divina,” she scoffed. “You cannot be further from the truth. I have no negative or malicious feelings towards the queer community. In fact, I am—“ 

There was a large rift between her mouth and mind. She quickly halted herself and lowered her voice, willing her heartbeat to slow so it wasn’t fluttering in her throat. Finishing that sentence would have meant giving realism to what she had been feeling for weeks. Something had been building up inside of her and only strengthened whenever she looked at Enid. She couldn’t tell anyone. There wasn’t a need for that. 

“What I mean is, I am not against that, who they are,” she tried to clarify. “Their identity has absolutely nothing to do with this. I meant that people as a whole should stop passively making love in public spaces. Other people are trying to breathe and eat.”

“Alright,” Sheriff Galpin said, clicking his pen a few times. “Moving on. What happened next?”

“After a few classes that made me want to jab pins into my eyes, I attended lunch in the canteen. It was loud and my ears began to bleed,” she said. “I remember seeing Divina sitting with Bianca and Yoko. Kent was somewhere around.”

“Kent is her brother, correct?” Galpin asked, still scribbling. 

“Yes, her twin,” she replied, turning to face Weems. “Principal Weems, I don’t see how this is helping anyone. Recounting my long, boring day is not going to help you find her any sooner. Why not interrogate Yoko and treat her like a suspect? Or Kent? Or her roommate? Perhaps that mangy werewolf’s hormones started raging and an accident occurred in their room.” 

Weems sighed and nervously clicked her pen, like she was going mad. “Miss Addams, we’ve already spoken with both Yoko and Kent. They’ve given their perspectives and are grief-stricken. Her roommate also gave a statement, and it’s checked out. Now it’s time to give your side of the story. Maybe you noticed something about her that would lead the sheriff and his team to find her.” 

Sheriff Galpin cleared his throat. “I’m not doing this to target you as a suspect. I just want to find Divina. Her parents are on their way from their home state to speak with me in person. This is very serious.”

“And I’m not denying that,” she snapped, sitting back in the chair. “I’m saying that I have no idea what to even say to you that would be at all helpful. She and I have never been close beyond sharing a desk in class. We spent one hour together to work on our project. That’s about the closest I’ve ever been and will be to her.”

“Fast forward to the project,” he said, making a waving gesture with his hand. She assumed he was telling her to hurry it up so he could get out of there. “What happened then? What was the project for?”

“We were meant to cast a time-traveling spell,” she told him. “She arrived at my dorm at exactly 4:03 yesterday afternoon. We completed our spell with great success, and then she left. She didn’t clue me in on where exactly she was going afterwards. Perhaps to see Yoko, or to her room to settle down and do some homework, or maybe outside to bury her blockhead brother in the snow. I don’t know enough about her to speculate.”

“And what time did she leave?” Sheriff Galpin inquired. 

“Around five,” she said. “And as I’ve repeated several times, I’ve not seen her since.”

Sheriff Galpin nodded and closed his notepad before he stood up. Wednesday stared up at him, watching his shadow stretch along the wall amid the firelight. He looked as though he could have passed out right then and there, the exhaustion of having a monster for a son catching up with him. 

“Miss Weems,” he politely addressed, nodding at the woman and picking up his hat. “We will definitely be in touch. Divina’s parents are going to report to the station as soon as they arrive. Their flight was delayed.”

Weems stood up and extended her hand for him to shake. “Of course. I’m sure I’ll be seeing plenty of them as well. Thank you for stopping by and meeting with Wednesday here. I’m sure she was of some help.” 

Two blue eyes glared at Wednesday before those same eyelids were wrinkling with a smile as Weems came around the desk and politely ushered Sheriff Galpin out of her office. Wednesday took in the burnt smell of firewood crackling to ash, and then the door practically slammed shut and a pair of heels stomped their way over to her. Suddenly Weems was looming over her, hands on her hips.

“I didn’t do anything,” Wednesday said. “This was all a baseless attack on me.”

“You weren’t being attacked, Wednesday,” she replied and leaned against the edge of her desk, her hands diplomatically folded in front of her. “I’m doing my very best not to pin any sort of blame on you for this. You were indeed the last to see Divina before she vanished. I brought you in here to give your statement. That’s all.”

“Well, you’ve gotten what you wanted,” Wednesday replied, sitting up so she wasn’t slouched over. “Maybe I return to my room? Or is there a bank robbery you’d like to interrogate me about now?”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere,” Weems clicked her tongue in annoyance. “But while I have you firmly planted in that seat, I do want to mention something.”

Wednesday swallowed with fear. She didn’t appreciate the way Weems was surveying her. She only ever saw that shine in someone’s eye when she was trying to be figured out, like she was some sort of new virus or a specimen under a microscope. 

She hated feeling so small. 

“After some discussion with your parents, it’s been decided that you will return to your weekly therapy,” Weems said. “A new therapist has moved into Kinbott’s office and took over her patients, and I had the pleasure of meeting with her yesterday. She read over your file and is looking forward to meeting you next week.”

That was it. That was all it took for the levees to break. 

Wednesday shot up like a rocket. “How dare you? How dare you have an important conversation with my parents about my well-being and medical issues? You’ve got absolutely zero right—“

“I do have every right, Miss Addams,” Weems said, guiding Wednesday back into her seat with a firm hand against a trembling shoulder. “And sit down. We aren’t done here.”

“Get your hands off me,” she snapped, jerking away from the woman. Her voice was shaky as she spoke. “You had no right to make that choice without informing me first. And my parents. . .well, of course they would blindly agree. They left me here, under your care, and you three aren’t exactly strangers. You might as well be my third parent, with the way you make decisions for me.” 

Weems’s eyebrows raised. “I may not be your parent, but I certainly do care about you. My entire job is to look after my students. You are absolutely no exception to that. In fact, I have to keep a closer eye on you than I do the others. You run amok and get yourself into trouble more often than I would like.”

“So you’re keeping a leash on me,” she scoffed in response. “If you weren’t aware, Principal Weems, I’m more than capable of handling things myself. I do not need your constant hovering to keep myself alive. I never asked you to look after me like I’m some sort of infant.”

“If I were to stop paying attention and hovering, you’d be six feet under,” said Weems as she reached out to brush back a strand of hair from Wednesday’s eyes. She was surprised that her touch wasn’t rejected. “And don’t give me a sarcastic remark about your death. It isn’t at all humorous.”

Wednesday pursed her lips. “Well, I was going to say something witty, but perhaps I should remain silent.”

“You should,” Weems immediately replied. “I’ll call on Monday and make an appointment for you to meet her. She’s very kind, Wednesday. It’s going to be alright. She will not hurt you. I can assure you of that.”

Wednesday didn’t particularly care if her new therapist was going to hurt her or not. She cared that she would have a new therapist entirely. She had grown quite fond of Kinbott over the course of their short time together. She wouldn’t have ever expressed it, but she did miss the woman, in her own Addams way.

“I still feel as though you should have discussed this with me beforehand,” she replied. “You made an important decision for me without clueing me in. That is betrayal.”

Weems chuckled and shook her head. “I wasn’t meaning to betray your trust, but you are a very stubborn little thing. What’s that saying? It’s easier to beg for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission?”

“I don’t see you begging,” Wednesday commented. “You may begin now.”

“I won’t be doing that, Wednesday,” she said, brushing back that same piece of hair. “Now come on. I’ll escort you back to your room.”

Pushing herself up and out of the chair, Wednesday folded her arms over her chest. Weems was still looking down at her, though with much warmer features.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she declared. “Do I need to remind you of what I was forced to face just months ago? I’ve no fear.”

“Maybe not, but I’m still going to escort you,” Weems said, already putting a hand on Wednesday’s back and urging her towards the door. “You’ll come to find out that I don’t tire easily.”

“You’ve said that before,” said Wednesday, comforted by the hand bracing her back as they stepped into the hallway. “And I see you’ve held true to your word.”

Her stare of admiration was quickly cut short by two hands grabbing fistfuls of her sweater. She was rapidly torn from Weems’s warm touch and launched against what felt like a stone pillar. 

“You did this, you little shit!” a familiar voice shouted, followed by blubbered Japanese. “You fucking did something to her! I should kill you right now, at this fucking moment!” 

Of course it was Yoko. Wednesday didn’t expect anything less. 

Suddenly, Wednesday was being peeled off the floor, and the moment she thought that it might’ve been Weems trying to help her up, she was slammed against the wall. She brought her hands up and coiled her fingers in thickets of dark, purple-streaked hair, yanking it forward until Yoko made a hissing sound. Still, the vampire didn’t let up. She pressed Wednesday into the wall by her throat, and all Wednesday could catch sight of was two fangs making their way to the exposed flesh of her neck before her vision clouded around the edges.

There was a voice somewhere screaming, “Yoko! You’re gonna kill her!”

Yoko’s weight was lifted off Wednesday the second she felt something pointy trying to break the surface of her skin. When she blinked away the surprise, she found Bianca pulling Yoko away by her wrists and pinning her arms to her chest so she couldn’t flail about anymore.

“She killed her!” Yoko cried, struggling to pull free from Bianca. “She’s not getting away with this! She’s a murderer! A violent freak!”

Wednesday startled when Weems put two hands on her shoulders. The woman took brief stock of the minor damage Yoko had done to her and decided that the few scratches on her face and the bruising on her neck would have to wait. 

“Miss Tanaka!” she shouted. “Stop that!”

Yoko wasn’t going to stop. She was growling like a wild animal in a cage, clawing at Bianca. Bianca wasn’t one to give in from a few cuts and scrapes alone; she kept Yoko close to her body and eased her into the wall so the vampire could feel something cool against her hot skin. The marble’s chill soothed something inside of her, and she began to relax.

“Take it easy,” Bianca whispered to her. “You’re gonna kill her. If you drink enough from her, you’ll turn her into a vampire. Do you really want Enid to kill you for that? You need blood.”

Weeks took a breath, still holding onto Wednesday. “Miss Barclay, please take Miss Tanaka to the infirmary. Tell Nurse Diaz to give her a blood bag and monitor her vitals. If she refuses, I’ll be there shortly to sign off on a feeding tube.”

Yoko’s ears perked up at that. She went quiet, save for her labored breathing, and went limp. She wasn’t wearing her sunglasses, which might have only increased the hysteria, allowing Wednesday to note the crazed yet exhausted expression her bloodshot eyes held. Vampires didn’t need to sleep as much as everyone else, but to have gone so long without it, coupled with lack of blood, was becoming dangerous. She was clearly delirious and out of her mind with worry. Wednesday nearly felt bad for her.

“That’s what I thought,” Weems softly said. “Now go on to the infirmary. You need blood, and I don’t want to hear of you causing any trouble in there. I’ll deal with you later.”

Bianca quickly whisked Yoko away, whispering softly into her ear about something. Yoko put up the tiniest of struggles as she was practically a noodle in her arms. There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes as they left. She was no longer thrashing or hissing like a rabid cat, but the way she looked at Wednesday over Bianca’s shoulder was gruesome. 

Soft yet determined eyes met Wednesday’s as Weems briefly examined her with a tight facial expression. She ghosted her hands along the girls arms and took note of the red splotches on her face, sighing.

“For once you didn’t earn that punishment,” she told Wednesday. 

For once. 

Weems must have been implying that Wednesday had deserved everything she had been rewarded with up until that point. Perhaps she did deserve to be violently manhandled by the monster. Perhaps she did deserve to become Laurel’s hyper-fixation and brand-new plaything until she decided to stop toying with her and murdered her altogether. Perhaps she deserved the nightmares that left her in cold sweats and residual fear whenever she violently awakened to a cold, dark room.

She deserved everything horrible that would ever happen to her.

“I’d like to return to my room,” she told Weems. “There are prying eyes around. I have much better things to do with my time than to stand here and be falsely persecuted for something that did not involve me.”

Nodding, Weems spun Wednesday around and guided her up the stairs. Wednesday didn’t object to it. She had been both emotionally and physically manipulated plenty of times by that time. And she didn’t exactly hate the feeling of the woman’s hands guiding her. They were secure and firm yet forgiving and warm. She wasn’t being manhandled or thrown around, even if she should’ve been. 

“I’m not a baby,” she reminded Weems as they climbed to the top of the stairs. “Sheriff Galpin should spend more time focusing on his grief after losing who his son once was rather than trying to pin unfounded blame on me.”

“He’s doing his job, Wednesday,” Weems chided. “Unfortunately, you end up at the center of every terrible thing here. You’ve earned yourself a terrible reputation. It’s not extraordinarily strange to assume you’ve got something to do with an incident.”

Wednesday’s feet felt heavy. She wanted to stop there and sink into the ground. Perhaps that was burnout, or maybe she wanted to have a meltdown and curl up on the floor because she was tired of becoming lead suspect in everything that went on within ten miles of Nevermore. 

“This is unfair,” she elected to state. “Divina goes missing and suddenly I’m some sort of monster.”

Weems shook her head. “You are not a monster, Wednesday. You have been through quite the ordeal. If you hadn’t been the last to see Divina alive, you wouldn’t be involved at all. It’s not that people suspect you’ve done something to harm her; it’s that she was last seen with you.”

“And I suppose people assume I harmed her because she was last seen with me,” Wednesday muttered, staring at the floor as they made their way into Ophelia Hall. “I did nothing to her. She’s a very average person and does not interest me. If I had wanted to hurt her, I would’ve done it long ago. She never brings her supplies to class and asks to borrow mine. She’s a nuisance at best and an overbearing child at worst.”

“Well, I’m sure the sheriff appreciated your statement,” said Weems. “You are off the hook for now, though I can imagine that’s going to change once her parents turn up.”

They were standing just outside Wednesday and Enid’s dorm. Wednesday leaned close to the door and braced the doorknob before Weems could.

“I genuinely hope she’s found, but it has nothing to do with me,” Wednesday concluded. “May I be left alone now?”

Weems sighed and nodded her head. “I suppose. You were very cooperative. I need to drop in on Yoko. Not to worry, Miss Addams. I know how you feel about justice and revenge. I’ll be sure to have a lengthy discussion with her regarding her punishment for assaulting you.”

Wednesday didn’t think that much of anything was going to happen to Yoko for that stunt, but that was hardly her problem. 

“Stay out of trouble,” was all Weems said before she retreated down the stairs and out of Wednesday’s sight. 

A heavy sigh left Wednesday as she quickly entered her room and locked the door behind herself. Enid sprung up from her bed, stepping over a crawling Divina, who was taking interest in the salt left on the floor.

“What happened?” Enid asked. “I was worried!”

“Weems brought me down to her office to have a chat with Sheriff Galpin,” she bitterly said, kicking off her shoes and running her hands over her sore face. “His menagerie of detectives and officers will be prowling the streets soon enough.”

The color drained from Enid’s face. “The sheriff? So this is becoming a huge deal?”

“After everything that happened last autumn, I can’t imagine that the locals or the police department would take a vanishing teenager lightly,” Wednesday replied as she gathered up most of her mess from the floor and put her useless book away. She was still holding onto the ring. “I’m going to assume that they’re going to conduct a search for Divina. It’s going to make headlines.”

“Wednesday, you have to come clean, right now,” Enid urged, pacing around the room and furiously tugging at her sweater. “The only reason that this is going so far is because you just can’t admit that you made a mistake. If you would’ve went to Faye and said that you needed help, none of this would be happening! But you are just so stubborn! Now we’re gonna get in so much trouble and get expelled and we’ll never see each other again and—and why the hell aren’t you freaking out right now?!” 

As furious as she wanted to be with Enid for being so needlessly neurotic all the time, Wednesday couldn’t find it within herself to raise her voice. Her roommate was a reproduction of all sorts of emotions, good and bad. That was something she had become used to over time. Most of the time, Enid was a bright ball of sunshine to overcast Wednesday’s moonlight, but sometimes, she was a screaming and crying and blubbering ball of nonsense that needed a levelheaded pep talk from an unbothered Wednesday. 

It shouldn’t have worked. But it did.

“Because nothing is going to happen to you,” she assured Enid, ever so quiet. “I can promise you that.”

“Me? Me?!” Enid explained, stopping in the middle of the room to stare at Wednesday with wet eyes and her jaw on the floor. “You’re about to get kicked out or arrested and all you care about is me?!” 

“I don’t care about my fate,” she said, swallowing with force. “Some things aren’t worth stressing over.”

The room was quiet, save for Divina’s hands slapping the floor as she ambulated about on all fours. Enid wiped her face with the back of her hand and took stock of her roommate’s disposition. Wednesday seemed relaxed, like she had simply given up. 

“You should care about your fate, Wednesday,” Enid said, shaking her head. “I don’t wanna lose you. I keep thinking that one day, we’ll have to leave each other and never meet again. You’ll be very successful somewhere and forget about me while I’m forced to marry whatever stupid wolf my mom sets me up with, and then I’ll have a bunch of kids running around while you’re off living the life you always wanted. And that life doesn’t include me, and I’m trying to feel okay about that, but I’m not okay!”

“I’ve already told you, Enid,” Wednesday exhaled. “You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love, nor do you have to have children. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s your life, your body, your choice.”

Enid just about hit the ceiling. She slammed her palms into her eyes, groaning in frustration.

“Do you hear yourself right now?” she snapped at Wednesday. “You just totally missed the point of everything I just told you!”

“I don’t understand,” Wednesday said, frowning. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Scoffing to herself, Enid began pacing again, careful not to stomp on Divina. She made a few laps around the room, making gestures with her hands. Wednesday took note of the tremble in her knees and the way her shoulders shook with effort.

“I’m upset because you don’t care that we’re never going to see each other after Nevermore!” she cried. She was standing in front of the window, a mere shadow in the light surrounding her. “And you’ve put us both in a situation that could separate us a lot sooner than I expected. I don’t have time to emotionally prepare to be separated from you. That’s why I’m upset.”

Wednesday hesitated. Enid was a ticking time bomb whenever she was emotional. Wednesday liked ticking time bombs.

“Surely you understand that high school is only temporary,” Wednesday said, even and cold. “We can’t be together forever. I thought that was made obvious when we met. We can still continue our friendship once we graduate from this godforsaken place. I don’t know what that will look like for me or where either of us will be, but I’ve told you that I plan to keep in contact with you.”

Enid wiped the tears from her eyes. “But you still don’t get it.”

“No, Enid, I suppose I don’t.”

Wednesday was becoming frustrated with Enid. Enid was always so cryptic rather than outright telling Wednesday what she wanted her to know. There were little hints and implications behind her words, and even if Wednesday tried to crack her code, she couldn’t. 

Suddenly, Enid was just one foot away from Wednesday’s staring into her eyes with those baby blues that Wednesday could’ve floundered in for hours. 

“You need to be direct with me,” she told Enid. “I’m not understanding what you’re trying to say. You’ve said quite a lot but nothing at all.”

Enid took a deep breath as another tear rolled down her cheek. Wednesday battled an instinct to reach up and clean it from her skin. Tears didn’t belong on Enid’s face. 

“Wednesday, I just don’t want us to be apart,” she sniffled. “You’re my best friend in this whole world—don’t tell Yoko—and I’m gonna miss you so much. But just like my parents with all their old high school friends, we’ll eventually only talk to each other on the holidays and then not at all. I don’t want that to happen. I don’t wanna be in my thirties, with a ton of kids and a lazy werewolf husband, and never have time to talk to you or see you or whatever because I’m too busy changing diapers, going to PTA meetings, and cooking every meal for my man that just has to have something hot on the table.”

“Then don’t,” Wednesday said.

Confusion clouded Enid’s face. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t settle for a life that would force you to lose something that is important to you,” she replied with certainty. 

Enid was quiet. She didn’t exactly know what to say or if anything could be said at all. Wednesday was entirely nonchalant about it, viewing the future as a black-and-white decision, with no room from gray. Of course she did; that was a very Wednesday characteristic. But for Enid, there was plenty of gray and even more uncertainty.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she finally decided to say. That was a safe start. “You aren’t being pressured to live a certain way.”

“And who says I’m not?” Wednesday scoffed to herself. “You’ve not met my parents and their amorous ways. They adore the thought of me falling in love with someone that my family curse has destined me to meet. They want to watch me walk down the aisle in all black as my father hands me off to whatever sad, unfortunate soul has been fated with me. While I’m not pressured to have children, my mother kept all of my baby clothes in case I choose to procreate and spread my woeful disease to the next generation of Addamses. There was a time where I wondered if I should give into it and succumb to my fate as an Addams woman, but recently I came to the conclusion that I was not born to die for others and I will not sacrifice my misery to satiate the needs and beliefs of the world.”

Enid’s eyes were still glassy. She rubbed them again. 

“But there’s a difference,” she said. “Your parents won’t hate you for not living your life the way they want you to.”

Wednesday softly exhaled. “Well, Enid, if your parents are truly the type to shun you for living your life to its absolute fullest, you might as well make it worth your while. Sometimes it’s okay to be hated if it means you’ll love. Besides, I don’t exactly have hopes for whatever greasy werewolf they match you with. Your taste in boys is very poor, and it’s hard to imagine that they could screw up, but they’ll manage.” 

The corners of Enid’s mouth twitched. She was going to smile, and Wednesday wanted to see it. 

“So are you saying that my choice in Ajax was poor?” she giggled. 

“I’m not saying that it was good,” she replied. There was a smirk on her face. “You shouldn’t risk dating a Gorgon. All it would take to ruin your relationship would be for him to forget his hat and catch sight of himself in a window reflection. If no one can change him back, what would you do? Marry a statue?”

Enid laughed. “Doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out, anyway. We’re not getting back together.”

Wednesday didn’t want to tell her that was a great relief and a weight off her chest. Instead she nodded and looked down, finding that they were only inches from each other. Enid’s lips were so close, just right there, and as inviting as they were, she couldn’t bring herself to lean up and in and satiate her weeks-long desire. She couldn’t give into the intrusive thought that plagued her nightmares. It was too much of a risk. 

Enid startled when she felt something tug at her sweatpants, eyes tearing away from Wednesday’s. Amidst their conversation, they’d forgotten about the baby moving about their room. Divina was using Enid’s pant leg for support as she pulled herself up on her knees. 

“Oh!” Enid exclaimed as she reached down to pick her up. “Sorry we forgot about you, little one. You move like a cat.”

Divina put both hands on Enid’s cheeks and leaned forward to mouth at her chin. Enid made a disgusted sound and pulled the chubby hands away. 

“Enough drool for today,” she scolded Divina, kissing her cheek. “Stinky baby.”

“Mama!” Divina exclaimed at Enid, pulling at her hair.

Enid’s eyes rounded to the size of dinner plates. She looked up at Wednesday, concerned.

“It seems she thinks you are her mother,” Wednesday noted. “Very interesting.”

Divina’s head swiveled around and she stretched out her arms to Wednesday. “Mama!”

The sly smile slid off Wednesday’s face. 

Enid laughed to herself and brushed Divina’s hair from her face, bouncing her on her hip. “Yeah, you are never watching Ms Rachel again.”

—

Wednesday was forced to skip fencing later that afternoon. She knew that Bianca would be out of an adequate fencing partner and Wednesday’s stand-in would be some scrawny, limp noodle of a child who had little fighting ability, but there was more at stake than what she could rightfully reconcile with. She was sure that Bianca would confront her later about it, but she didn’t exactly have any sort of real excuse as to why she had to ditch her. She would have to figure that out at a more appropriate time. 

While Wednesday read over a spell book that Grandmama had given her, Enid propped herself up on her bed with Divina in her arms. The baby was nursing from a fresh bottle of milk as she watched an episode of Bluey on Enid’s laptop. Enid had been very serious about banning Ms Rachel from the lineup.

“So what’s your big plan of action now?” Enid asked Wednesday, stroking Divina’s forehead with her thumb. “Dinner is in two hours. If you go down there, you’re gonna get jumped by Yoko again. If I go, they’re all gonna come at me with questions and ask why I haven’t come out of my room since this shit went down.”

“I can handle the vampire,” Wednesday said, curled up in her armchair. “Maybe she’ll break the skin this time.”

“That is not funny,” Enid scolded as she moved Divina so she was sitting up against the pillows. She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sighed at her roommate. “This can’t go on forever. Something has to give, and it’s not gonna be you.”

Dark eyes met Enid’s. Wednesday’s upper lip curled into a sneer of disgust.

“What are you implying?” she inquired. “Are you implying that you are planning on informing someone of what’s happening?”

“Well, something has to be done,” Enid said, gesturing to Divina, who was blissfully unaware and focused on her bottle and the silly dogs on the screen. “Who’s gonna take care of her when we’re in class? We can’t take her with us. And I’d like to have a life!”

“I will figure something out later,” Wednesday halfheartedly replied, returning to her book. 

Enid jumped to her feet and made a gesture at her with her arms. “Later?! Later, when?! When is later?!”

Wednesday paused for a moment, thinking. “Okay, perhaps we’re all out of later. But I will figure this out if you allow me some time.”

“Time?! Time?! It’s been a full day and all we’ve done is teach her to crawl and call us mama!” she cried, looking at Divina and back at Wednesday. “And then you got jumped by Yoko and almost turned into a vampire! And Weems is already being all suspicious! And the sheriff interrogated you!”

“You are making a larger deal of this than it really is,” said Wednesday. “Nothing is going to happen. You have absolutely no trust or hope in my abilities.” 

“Duh, of course not!” Enid jumped off her bed. “We are both so totally screwed this time! Kent texted me earlier and said that their parents are here! They came all the way from the south just to find Divina, and they aren’t going to find her. They’re gonna tear this entire town apart and waste resources to find her, and when they end up with a cold case, shit is really gonna go down!” 

“Enid, I will fix this,” Wednesday promised with reluctance. “This is a very temporary problem. I am not the first to make this mistake, and I won’t be the last.”

“And you know that how?” Enid asked, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to pace again. Her foot rapidly thumped against the floor with urgency. “Did your crystal ball tell you that? Or are you making some wild assumption so you don’t feel so alone in this?”

Wednesday hadn’t even touched her crystal ball in awhile. Her parents hadn’t called and she wasn’t going to call them in return. Pugsley had informed her that their parents had been rather weepy upon their daughter’s return to Nevermore, claiming how proud of her they were. She didn’t want to open a can of worms she couldn’t close.

“You are working yourself up for nothing, Enid,” she calmly said. “Let them waste resources. They won’t find her. It would be much easier looking for a needle in a haystack. Though eventually, you’ll get poked and understand that maybe doing something so futile was very stupid.” 

“It’s not like she’s not here,” Enid said, pointing to Divina. “Did you not hear anything I said earlier? About us getting kicked out of here and never seeing each other again? Or was that in one ear and out the other?” 

“I heard you loud and clear,” she responded as she lifted her eyes over the edge of her book. “And I will avoid expulsion. However, I can’t promise that we won’t drift apart. That happens naturally as people age.”

Exasperated, Enid plopped down on her bed. Divina almost shot up in the air like a rocket, squealing around her bottle. 

“Oh, sorry,” Enid giggled, reaching over to grab Divina. She lifted her over her head and stuck her tongue out. “Hi, stinky little one!”

Divina took the bottle from her lips and held it in both hands, a trail of milk dribbling down the side of her mouth. She had that concentrated look about her, her nose scrunching with effort and lips puckered into a scowl. 

Enid worriedly frowned at her. “Are you gassy? Please don’t tell me you’re pooping again! That’s so gross!” She muttered something to herself as she stood Divina in her lap and went to pull the back of her diaper open. 

Wednesday looked up. “Enid.”

“Huh? Did you say something, Wed—“

The heel of the bottle jammed right into Enid’s throat. She gagged and moved to sit the baby on the floor, clutching onto her neck as her eyes screwed shut in pain. 

“She got me again!” she told Wednesday, still holding onto her throat as the throbbing pain subsided into something she could handle. She forced herself to swallow and glared down at Divina. “I should give you to Yoko! You are a bad little baby! We should’ve put you up for adoption!”

“Again?” Wednesday inquired. 

“Okay, that was kind fucked up of me to say,” she sighed, scooping Divina off the floor and sitting her in her lap. She kissed her forehead and snuggled her to her chest, wary of the bottle she was still grasping onto. “Enid is sorry for saying that. We’ll keep you. But you have to be nice to us. We don’t like getting hit and scratched and strangled.”

Wednesday’s eyebrows furrowed. “Speak for yourself.”

“Fine, then you take her, since you’re totally fine with getting beat up,” Enid said, carrying Divina to Wednesday. 

“I am busy,” she protested as Enid lowered the baby into her lap. She was surprisingly gentle about shoving her back into Enid’s arms. The sneer on her face, however, was not. “Take that thing away from me. She smells like sour milk.”

“Aw, don’t be so mean to our baby, Wednesday,” Enid playfully cooed. “She’s just a baby. She just needs a bath, that’s all.”

“Well, I suppose you can attend to that task while I’m here doctoring up a remedy so we can stop playing house,” Wednesday huffed. 

Enid smiled. “But playing house with you is fun. Well, kinda. I could use an extra set of hands with the baby, but it seems like Mama is too busy with her reading to help.” 

“Enough with your jokes,” Wednesday snapped. “I’ll have you know that I’m extremely capable of fixing this. You, on the other hand, can look after her all on your own. You don’t need me to change a diaper or make a bottle.”

Divina waved her hand at Wednesday. “Mama!”

“Stop calling me that, you cretin,” she snapped. “I don’t find that flattering.”

“Aw, Wednesday!” Enid teased, shifting Divina so she could see Wednesday in her entirety. “She thinks you’re her mama! That’s so cute!”

“Enid, I am very busy—“

Something hard hit Wednesday’s forehead. It took a moment for her to come to, and once she did, she looked down to find Divina’s bottle in her lap, milk dribbling out of the nipple and soaking into the pages of her book. It dripped three times before she realized that her century-old spell book, a family heirloom, was ruined. 

“Uh-oh,” Enid said to Divina. “Mama’s mad.”

Wiping a stray trail of warm milk from her eyebrow, Wednesday shoved the bottle into Enid’s hand. 

“Is adoption still on the table?” she asked. “Throwing her out the window and making her bird food would also suffice.” 

“She’s just a baby,” Enid tried to reason when she saw Wednesday’s jaw begin to quiver. “She didn’t mean it.”

“You may be right. I think she’s conscious—“

Enid jumped a foot in the air as her phone buzzed with a blaring alarm that she recognized during flash flooding or inclement weather. She quickly swiped it off her desk and lifted it with caution, silencing the notification so it wouldn’t upset Divina. 

AMBER Alert

Jericho, VT. Child is 16-year-old Divina Marsh, who was last seen at Nevermore Academy, wearing a blue sweater and gray sweatpants. She is 5’3” 125LB. Brown hair, Blue/Green eyes. Call 9-1-1 with information.

Chapter Text

When Enid received the announcement text from Nevermore’s faculty stating that the campus was locked down until further notice, it was an hour following dinner. She was giving Divina a bottle and reclining back in bed with the baby in her arms, watching Bear in the Big Blue House on her laptop, which was more to bring her comfort than it was to distract Divina. She frowned at her phone and glanced over at Wednesday, who had already retired to her armchair with an armful of spell books and talismans in her lap. 

“We’re on lockdown,” Enid announced to her. “No one goes in or out unless accompanied by a teacher.”

“A pity,” Wednesday replied without giving Enid a second thought. “I suppose you won’t be going on your weekly shopping spree tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t going anyway,” Enid bitterly said as she stood up with Divina perched on her left hip. 

The baby clutched onto her bottle and tilted her head back so quickly, Enid thought it might snap right off. Sighing, Enid let Divina down to the floor and patted her head, careful not to press her finger into her bruise that seemed to only swell further around her nonexistent hairline. 

“Wednesday, seriously! Now it’s affecting everyone else! No one can go out and have fun this weekend because they think she got eaten by some monster!” she exclaimed. “This has gone on long enough! Just tell Faye what you did. It’ll be so much easier if you just come clean now! Maybe they’ll let you off with detention!” 

The way Wednesday’s face twisted into an expression of disgust was not at all promising or indicative of her coming clean. She closed the book she was currently studying and looked up at Enid. Enid could feel her go cold against her. The hairs stood up on the back of Enid’s neck as she surveyed her roommate’s rigid body language. 

“How many times have I told you, Enid?” she snapped. “My project isn’t due until Monday. I have time to sort this out. Besides, I’ve already been hailed as the prime suspect in her kidnapping case. Nothing I do or say will expunge that from peoples’ minds. They see me and assume that I’ve done something malicious to her. I am determined to prove them wrong.”

Enid’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. She put her hands on her hips.

“That’s all you’re concerned about?” she asked. “You’re worried about how people see you? I have news for you, Wednesday. People are gonna keep talking shit about you, even if you try to clean up your reputation. That will never change. And who cares if they do? Since when did you start caring what others think of you?”

Wednesday hesitated, licking the dryness off her lips. She toyed with a creased page of her book and ran her fingers over the worn cover. She didn’t appreciate the way Enid was scrutinizing her with her soft eyes that still seemed angry and accusatory. Enid was rarely ever upset with her, and whenever she looked at Wednesday like she had committed a crime, there was a twinge of pain in her chest. She didn’t like the idea that Enid was scolding her.

“I don’t care,” she said. “I enjoy the fact that people despise me.”

“Then why are you in your redemption era?” Enid inquired. “If you don’t care that people think you did something to her, why are you trying so hard to fix it?”

“I’m afraid my pride won’t allow me to surrender to failure,” she admitted, quite passively. She was quiet and fidgety. “If I seek help, I’m admitting that I am a failure and have made a grave mistake. I would rather remove my own teeth with pliers than admit to anyone that I’ve done something like this. And that is as much vulnerability as you will ever receive from me, so enjoy it.”

Enid didn’t believe that for a second. She had seen Wednesday in such a vulnerable, feeble light more times than Wednesday had probably even realized. There were times, in the middle of the night, when Enid would turn over to find Wednesday wrestling with her blankets and making distressed noises in her sleep. She would have never told Wednesday that, in fear of her receding into herself and electing to sleep on their balcony to hide her shame, but she understood, to some extent, that her roommate wasn’t exactly rough-and-tough. 

“Wednesday, you don’t have to hide from me,” Enid told her, watching Divina crawl towards the other side of the room after abandoning her empty bottle. “It’s fine to say you fucked up.”

“And I did tell you that,” she snapped. “No one else needs to become aware of that.” 

“So what’s gonna be your big story?” Enid asked, leaning against her desk and prying an electrical cord from Divina’s hand. “How are you gonna present this without anyone asking questions when Divina randomly shows up again?” 

“Once I have this figured out, she will return as normal with a sob story about how she ventured into the woods for some quiet time away from the chaos and found herself lost upon nightfall. She took refuge in a cave for the night before venturing out again in search of civilization, where she stopped at a local diner and asked for help,” Wednesday explained. “The kind server pointed her in the right direction, and she was able to find her way back.”

Enid giggled. “God, Wednesday, even I don’t believe that. Why wouldn’t this supposed ‘kind server’ not alert the police that a random teenager wandered into a diner and asked for directions back to Nevermore? Especially with an Amber Alert out for her? I’m sure there’s some kind of reward. They’re going to ask what diner and what the server looked like. It’s gonna become a thing.”

“Enid, I’m not going to go back and forth with you about it,” she muttered. “That’s the story I’m going with. Everyone will be so relieved to have her home again, no one is going to concern themselves with all the details. Eventually the chaos will dwindle and everything will return to normal, as if it never happened.”

“And what if they make her go to the hospital to check for injuries?” Enid asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Her parents are, like, grossly overprotective of her and Kent. They did buy them and they were expensive, so they need to make sure all their parts still work.”

“That would be Divina’s problem,” Wednesday said with a dismissive shrug of her shoulder. “My only concern is reversing the spell and moving past this incident, and I cannot do that if you’re going to continue to lecture me about something that cannot be changed.”

Emerging from under Enid’s desk, Divina grabbed onto Enid’s legs with sticky hands and pulled herself up to her knees. She was slimy and damp in all the wrong places. 

“Mama,” Divina babbled, shaking one fist at Enid in demand. 

“Stop calling me that,” Enid huffed and reached down to lift her into her arms again, heaving her onto her hip like a sack of potatoes. “Oof. Obviously you’ve had too much milk. It’s gone right to your thighs.”

Unprompted, Divina’s hand slapped Enid upside her head, leaving the werewolf stunned for more than half a minute before she came to her senses and looked down at the squirmy baby with mock anger in her eyes. 

“Do you hate me?” Enid asked. Her lighthearted tone counteracted the playful scowl on her face. “I change your gross diapers, I get up in the middle of the night to feed you, I play with you, and all you do in return is hit me?”

Divina blew a spit bubble and messily gummed at Enid’s chin. 

“How charming,” Wednesday brashly remarked, returning to her book. “She takes after you, you know.”

With Divina’s hand halfway in her mouth, Enid spun to face her roommate, begrudgingly glaring at her.

“You created her, not me,” she reminded, hoisting the blabbering infant up onto her hip. “I think she takes after you. You know, with her constant physical abuse and that scary look she gets when she’s angry.”

“I don’t take offense to that,” replied Wednesday, dismissively moving onto another subject that didn’t imply her procreation or contribution to the human race. “I do believe she needs yet another change.” 

Enid snaked a hand around Divina’s bottom and patted her diaper. She made a wrinkly face at her and blew her a raspberry. 

“Looks like this is a job. . .for Mommy!”

Before Wednesday was capable of gathering a coherent thought, Enid deposited Divina in her lap and practically moonwalked into the bathroom. Wednesday frowned at the baby, looking between her and the bathroom door that now divided her and Enid. 

“Ma!” Divina squealed, holding her little fists to her mouth. Her head wobbled the slightest bit as she bounced in Wednesday’s lap. 

“Disgusting thing,” she muttered, setting aside her book and lifting Divina into her arms as she rose to her feet. “And do not make a habit of referring to me as your mother. If I were your mother, you wouldn’t even exist, because I’d have left you in the dumpster of a Planned Parenthood before you could even fully grow toes.”

“Wednesday Addams!” Enid exclaimed from the other side of the door. “Be nice to the baby!”

Wednesday grumped to herself, muttering a few words that could’ve been considered blasphemous as she maneuvered to the other side of the room with a rather large baby clinging to her hip. 

Divina slurped up her own drool from her hands as Wednesday situated her on Enid’s bed. Wednesday plucked a clean diaper from the dwindling stack on Enid’s desk, the pack of equally scarce baby wipes, and a marker to keep Divina occupied while Wednesday wrestled with her. 

“Hold still, you little brat,” Wednesday huffed to herself as she peeled the soiled diaper off of Divina. “You smell like you decomposed. Something died inside of you.”

Enid banged on the bathroom door. “Stop being mean, Wednesday!” 

“Perhaps you should come out and change this slimy, sick diaper and see how you like it,” she mumbled in return, quietly enough for it to fall on deaf ears. She tapped Divina’s flailing leg. “You are smearing feces all over the bed.”

Changing the diaper took more than a little practice. Wednesday wrestled Divina until she could pretzel her enough to take a handful of wipes to her bottom. The baby began to salivate, twitching with protest against the chill of the wipe while Wednesday diligently worked to clean her up. 

“You ruined chocolate pudding for me,” she told Divina, sliding the clean diaper underneath her and trying to rip a piece of duct tape off the roll. “Hold still!”

The marker laid lifeless and useless at Divina’s side as Wednesday gripped both little ankles and attempted to wrangle the wiggly baby. Divina suddenly flipped onto her belly, deterring Wednesday just long enough for her to scoot herself away on her knees. 

“I don’t think so,” Wednesday scolded, one hand clinging to the messy roll of duct tape and the other desperately pawing at Divina. “Don’t you dare throw yourself off the bed.”

Divina stopped an inch away from the edge of the mattress, fingers between her grinning lips. She was as naked as the day she left the womb, having escaped the confines of her diaper while Wednesday was struggling with the tape. She gummed on her index finger, the corners of her eyes twinkling. 

Wednesday used her teeth to tear off a decent piece of tape, eyeing Divina. She subtly put the tape aside and reached outwards for the baby. 

“Come here, you rat,” she demanded as she stretched over the bed at an unreasonable measure. “I’ve had it with you.”

A discontented sound left Divina. She sighed like she could feel the weight of the world pressing onto her shoulders, and pushed herself up onto her knees. With Wednesday’s guidance, she crawled forward and scooted herself within Wednesday’s reach. 

“Was that so difficult?” Wednesday remarked, grabbing onto Divina’s leg and pulling her back onto the awaiting diaper. She situated the tape and fluffed the ruffles around the legs. “Making me do extra work for—are you playing with your own feces, you disgusting vermin?” 

Divina had twisted around to grab hold of the dirty diaper that Wednesday mistakenly left open and unattended. Her grubby hand was now wrist-deep inside the mess. 

Quickly plucking Divina’s arm from the diaper, Wednesday pulled more wipes than reasonable from their package and began working to clean Divina up. 

“This is why you don’t have children,” she muttered to herself. “All they do is make messes and cause inconveniences.”

The pile of dirty wipes grew tall by the time Wednesday managed to scrape out the feces from under Divina’s almost invisible fingernails. She collected the soiled diaper and wipes into Enid’s nearby trash can, with the intention of throwing the entire bag into the incinerator, and helped Divina to stand up with her support.

“I pity the woman who was forced to squeeze your large head through her birth canal,” Wednesday tutted. 

As Wednesday lifted Divina onto her hip and went to put away whatever was left of the supplies, a knock at the door startled her. Initially she assumed it was Enid making a mess of their bathroom, but the knocks grew more frequent and urgent from the opposite side of the room.

“Miss Addams, I sincerely hope you are home.”

The bathroom door squealed open and Enid emerged with her arms outstretched to Wednesday. She quickly scooped the baby off Wednesday’s hip and bounced her to keep her quiet, because Divina pulling at her ear was not a good indicator of contentment. 

“In the bathroom,” Wednesday urgently whispered, grabbing Enid by the shoulders and steering her into the bathroom. “Turn on the shower. If she attempts to barge in, I’ll tell her you’re showering and it’s against the rules to walk in on a student while they’re using the bathroom.” 

Enid went to stutter her confusion but succumbed to the angry glare on Wednesday’s face. She closed the bathroom door, leaving Wednesday standing empty in the middle of the room. The shower soon after turned on and filled the dorm with a comfortable hum of water pelting the tile. The old pipes groaned under the strain, muffling the shaky sigh that left Wednesday’s lips.

Weems wasn’t one to shy away from her goal, and that was made abundantly clear when Wednesday opened the door to find her principal staring down at her with a concerned frown.

“Good. It seems you minded the lockdown order,” she said to Wednesday. “I feared you might’ve tried to skip town.”

“And why would I do that?” Wednesday asked. “That would make it look like I’m guilty of something.”

“You aren’t being accused of anything,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Though your persistent defense of yourself is raising alarm.”

“What’s right is right.” Wednesday squeezed herself between the door and frame, blocking most of the inside of the room. “You are fortunate I didn’t inform my parents of your accusations towards me. They wouldn’t have approved of you forcing me to speak to the authorities without their knowledge.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Weems said. “And I’ve only come by to check in on you and Enid. Speaking of Enid. Where is she?”

“Having a shower,” Wednesday immediately replied. “As you can imagine, she’s very distressed about Divina’s absence.”

Weems nodded. “Well, I can understand that.”

“Is there anything else you would like to ask me while we’re so acquainted at the moment?” It was meant to be snarky, but Wednesday’s voice faltered. 

“Yes, actually.” Weems turned up her nose. “Did something die in your room, Miss Addams?”

“My will to live,” quipped Wednesday. “Good evening, Miss Weems.”

She shut the door and the shower turned off as the unmistakable sound of heels retreated. 

Now she was certain that Weems was going to rush her next therapy appointment. 

—

Something sprouted inside of Divina as nightfall approached, and it came in the form of a new tooth. The only reason Wednesday and Enid were at all aware of the sudden rupture of a new appendage was the fact that Divina refused to eat her mashed potatoes or mushy peas for dinner and spent the entire meal slobbering on Enid’s shoulder.

“Enid, I would sincerely appreciate it if you could get that thing to settle before her crying alerts anyone of importance,” Wednesday complained from under her pile of crumpled papers at her desk. “I’m so close to cracking the mystery and I cannot hear myself think.”

Enid swayed around the room with Divina cradled in her arms like one would hold a fragile newborn. She tried rocking, shushing, humming, and she even allowed Divina to suckle on the neckline of her shirt to soothe the pain in her jawline. 

“Well, if you can do a better job, then do it,” Enid huffed, but she didn’t relent or pass the whining baby over to Wednesday to deal with. “I’m doing my best here. She won’t take the bottle or chew on anything else. Imagine calcified bone ripping and knifing its way through your inflamed gums for hours upon hours and you can’t do anything but take it.”

Wednesday spun around in her chair. “You seem to have forgotten that I’ve had an actual knife stuck in my torso.”

Enid visibly winced and patted Divina’s bottom as she made another circle around the room. 

They didn’t discuss it much, or at all, really. Wednesday was reserved about it and brushed off the questions and odd looks she received from people who thought the incident should’ve turned her into a damsel in distress. 

“Okay, but she’s a baby and doesn’t know how to handle pain,” Enid tried reasoning. “Seriously, Wednesday, do something.”

Spinning around in her chair again, Wednesday returned to jotting down notes. “Enid, there is nothing I can do. Any potions I could make to relieve the pain are not suitable for infants. Contrary to assumptions, I’m not interested in killing her.”

“She’s gonna wake everyone up and then you’re really screwed.” Enid sounded like she was on the brink of wailing right alongside Divina. “Please, Wednesday.”

Tossing a crumpled sheet of paper over her shoulder, Wednesday stood and silently moved to her cello case. She snapped it open and heaved the instrument out of the satin case, along with its bow. 

“Seriously?!” Enid exclaimed as she jostled Divina. “She’s freaking out and your solution is to play the cello?!”

Wednesday seemed affronted. “I’ll have you know that music, when composed and organized by someone with half a brain, calms people. Although I wouldn’t say that migraine-inducing noise you listen to is well-composed, you find comfort in it, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but how do you know she likes whatever you call that music you play?” Enid asked. “She could hate it.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Wednesday replied as she dragged her cello to the window and lifted the glass. “I’m not a fool, Enid.”

Enid bounced Divina, exhausted with both caring for a teething baby and mitigating arguments between herself and Wednesday. If this was what being a mother was like, any desire of that had already vanished.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, so do whatever,” Enid grumped, flipping Divina over to give her right elbow a break. 

As if Wednesday needed any permission. How laughable.

She snaked out of the room and brought her cello onto the balcony. She had left her chair and music stand there a few days before, which was an accidental smart decision on her part. Enid had complained about it being in her way but eventually decided that it wasn’t worth an argument.

While Wednesday set herself up and got situated on the balcony, cello between her knees, Enid rocked and shushed the whimpering infant in her arms. Enid was still fumbling around with a spinning brain and an equally unstable memory. She couldn’t recall when Divina last had a full bottle or anything of real nutrition. Maybe it wasn’t the teething pain anymore. Maybe she was hungry and couldn’t express it. It must’ve sucked to be a baby.

“Please don’t cry, Divina,” Enid pleaded. “I know you’re miserable, but there’s nothing I can do.”

The overture of a lullaby strummed through the window. Enid lifted her head and saw Wednesday gliding her bow over the strings of her cello. She was facing away from the window, chin pointed high so she could read the notes on her sheet music. 

Divina began to noticeably settle. She snuffled against Enid’s breast and nuzzled her sweater with her little nose. 

Enid smiled and cooed to the baby, who was growing drowsy and going limp in her arms as her heavy eyelids drooped with effort. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her sweatpants. She relied on her left arm to bear the whole of Divina’s weight as she fished it out. 

She wasn’t necessarily surprised to see a text from Yoko. 

>Divina’s parents are here

>They’re pissed and yelling at Weems

She had no immediate response to that. It was glaringly obvious that Yoko was in no mood to have casual conversation. She also didn’t want to snowball Yoko’s emotions by feeding into the idea that they were screwed out of finding Divina.

Her phone buzzed again, but more than twice. 

>They’re planning to take Kent back home

>They don’t trust this place

>I don’t either

>I told my dad to come get me tmrw night if they don’t find her

>Weems won’t say no

For the first time since the AMBER alert, Enid’s heart sank to her stomach. She blinked back a few tears and looked between Divina and Wednesday, then back at her phone. She left the texts on read, pocketing it and stroking back the fine baby hairs from Divina’s abnormally warm forehead.

A decision had to be made, and quickly. Enid was typically impulsive in her decisions and often found herself regretting her choices in hindsight, but she was certain that losing Yoko to Wednesday’s stubborn behaviors was not in her plans. 

Once Divina completely settled under the steady hum of Wednesday’s cello, Enid carefully laid her into her laundry basket, tucking a blanket around her. Divina softly cooed and brought her thumb to her lips, a new skill she recently learned to soothe herself. 

Enid wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand and lifted the glass, a rush of cold air sweeping into the room. She ducked under the panel and stood on the balcony in just a pair of socks over the sheet of snow. 

The music faded into nothing and Wednesday set her brown down at her side, turning to face Enid.

“She’s asleep,” Enid told her, then paused. “Thanks.”

“Told you,” Wednesday coyly replied. “Music always helped me regulate whenever I was upset and keeping my mother awake. That, or my uncle holding me. It was, perhaps, the only physical affection I tolerated. Up until I turned five.” 

They don’t talk about the embrace, either. Too taboo.

Enid thought for a moment and mulled over Yoko’s texts. And then—

“I’m telling Weems.”

Wednesday couldn’t release her cello without destroying it, but she still twisted her entire body around, one hand holding the neck of her instrument. 

“You won’t,” she demanded. “You won’t betray me that way.”

“Yoko is gonna leave Nevermore tomorrow if Divina isn’t found,” Enid said, voice straining to retain her tears. “I can’t lose her. I have to do what’s right, even if it means you get mad at me.”

“I’m so close to solving this, Enid,” Wednesday scoffed. “And I’m quite disappointed that you have so little trust in me.”

“This has nothing to do with trust,” Enid coldly replied. “It’s okay to make mistakes, but you have to own up to them. I can’t lose Yoko over something like this. And poor Divina. . .she deserves to live normally.”

Wednesday hesitated and gripped her cello tighter. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I’m tired of the back-and-forth with you, Wednesday.” Enid flailed her arms. “You can’t figure it out, and that’s okay. It isn’t gonna kill you to admit you messed up. I don’t get how you don’t see that.” 

Standing up, Wednesday went colder than ice. For the better part of the evening, she was accommodating to Divina and Enid, and she even forwent her writing hour. It was unfair of Enid to badger her that way, and she dared to admit that it was almost hurtful.

“What’s important to me is figuring this out on my own,” Wednesday said. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Perhaps it’s the only thing I have, the only thing keeping my attention. For the first time since. . .since the incident, I’ve found something worth my attention and effort.”

“So that’s it?” Enid passively asked. “You’re causing more problems just because you’re bored? That’s so selfish, Wednesday.”

“I told you that I am a selfish person and will always prioritize my needs above all else,” she snapped in return. “I don’t understand why you are surprised.”

“Care about someone else for once.” Enid’s voice lowered, almost defeated. “If you don’t turn her back by tomorrow afternoon, I’m telling Yoko and Weems. I can’t lose Yoko over this.”

Wednesday didn’t want to be selfish this time. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She didn’t want to hurt Enid by being the cause of her best friend departing Nevermore, never to be seen again. 

For the first time in her life, she wanted to care about someone. 

“That’s adequate timing,” she eventually said with some reluctance. “I’ll accept.”

That was shocking, but Enid made no comment. Wednesday was stubborn, but Enid saw something else in her eyes just then; softness. Her big Bambi eyes were round like almonds and a spark lit up inside them. 

Snow began to fall from the sky, and Enid decided she needed to return to Divina’s bedside to watch over her, so she wordlessly turned and lifted the glass again. She looked over her shoulder and noted Wednesday staring at her with longing as she held onto her instrument.

“Enid,” she said, and it was as gentle as the snowflakes melting on her nose. She exhaled. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Enid cracked a smile. “Well, I would say it was more than just one, but you’re welcome.”

The glass closed the moment Enid slipped into the room, leaving Wednesday covered in milky white on the balcony. 

Not long after Enid settled a fussy Divina back to sleep next to her in her bed, Wednesday’s cello played another song with the consistency of smooth butter, and Enid fell asleep with the baby safely tucked in her arms. 

When Wednesday crawled back inside and found them there sometime later, she placed her cello aside and carefully unwrapped Enid’s tired arms from around Divina, who stirred as she was transferred back to her basket but didn’t completely awaken. 

The next few hours were quiet, until Divina decided she deserved more attention and disturbed Wednesday’s reading. But that was going to happen anyway.

—

Sunday mornings were typically slow at Nevermore. This one was especially slow, given the lockdown and lack of shuttles running. The hallways were vacant and the dorms were almost silent and eerily devoid of life.

Every Sunday, Enid usually slept in and crawled her way out of bed around nine while Wednesday quietly tiptoed around her, but with a baby thrown in the mix, they were both up and about by seven, but only because Divina had fallen over in her basket again. 

Enid had brewed herself a coffee in the canteen and brought it upstairs alongside Divina’s morning milk carton. Nevermore only served drip-brewed and Wednesday would have rather keeled over than drink it, so Enid didn’t even bother asking if she wanted one.

“It’s so weird out there,” Enid said to Wednesday as she was making up a bottle for Divina. “Everyone is super quiet and acting weird. The nurse let Yoko leave the infirmary last night after giving her some blood, but she’s staying in her room. Weems has been bringing her food and blood since.”

Wednesday crumpled up her hundredth piece of paper, not once paying Enid any mind. “I’m going to hold up my end of the deal. You won’t need to concern yourself with losing that violent vampire.” 

“I hope so,” Enid replied, scooping Divina off the floor and moving to her bed. “I don’t wanna tell on you, ya know. But right is—“

“Right,” Wednesday coldly completed. “I understand your logic. I just wish you had more trust in me than that.”

Sat on her bed with Divina in her lap as she fed her, Enid sighed. “I trust you. But I also need Yoko. It’s a very shitty situation.”

“Literally,” she mumbled under her breath and looked at her analog clock. “I understand that I have four hours to figure this out before I’m expelled and have to return to New Jersey, where I will be forced to sit in a public classroom with people I’d love to murder. A pity, because this place was beginning to grow on me.”

The guilt trip had Enid wincing. Wednesday was a good actor, but Enid wasn’t going to let her sway her so easily. 

Divina happily suckled her milk and wrapped a chubby hand around Enid’s finger as she was rocked into a half-sleep. 

“You are so cute,” Enid gushed, nuzzling Divina’s cheek. 

“Oh. Well. . .I suppose I should thank you,” came from Wednesday’s mouth. “Although my goal is never to be found cute.”

Enid raised her eyebrows, amused. “I was talking to the baby.”

Wednesday’s shoulders visibly slumped and her cheeks felt hot. She picked up her pen and continued quietly scribbling in her notebook, her spell book propped open against her typewriter. 

“Of course you were,” she replied. 

“But you’re cute, too, if it makes you feel any better,” Enid said as she lifted Divina to her shoulder to burp her. She learned that helping her release gas halfway through a bottle made for far less baby puke. “Just in a different way, I guess.”

“I’m not cute,” she muttered with contempt, even it gave her a fluttery feeling in her stomach. 

“Whatever.” 

Divina burped with enough force to be considered an adult. Enid laughed and sat her down in her lap before offering the rest of the bottle, but Divina shook her head and pushed it away. 

“Playtime?” Enid asked as the baby clambered off her lap. “Don’t complain about being hungry later.”

She situated Divina on the floor with a few stuffed animals that were now covered in crust and filth, and stepped into the bathroom to rinse out the bottle while the little one ambulated about the room. She set the bottle at the edge of the sink to air dry, taking note of the prominent dark circles under her eyes. Anyone could reasonably have assumed she had been punched. 

When she returned to the room, she found Divina orbiting around Wednesday. Wednesday was still focused on writing, ignoring the grubby hands that gripped onto her pant leg. She absentmindedly jerked, startling the baby almost to the edge of tears. 

“No no, Divina,” Enid said as she pried Divina away from Wednesday. “Go play with the toys.”

Divina made a huffing noise and crawled away, leaving Enid hovering over Wednesday to get a peek at her notes. She didn’t understand the language Wednesday was writing. It was likely an old spell written in dead Latin, which only Wednesday could reasonably understand.

“So. . .should I visit Weems?” Enid asked, awkwardly dusting nothing off Wednesday’s desk.

The pen hit the desk and Wednesday snapped her head up. “That isn’t fair. I have more time. It isn’t afternoon yet.”

“But you’re clearly struggling.” Enid gestured to the massive pile of crumpled papers. “Just give up, Wednesday. I’ll defend you.”

“I’m a lot of things, Enid, but a quitter isn’t one of them,” she remarked. 

Her scowl morphed into surprise when there was a knock at the door. She exchanged a worried glance with Enid. 

“Uh-oh,” Enid whispered. 

“Ladies!” someone called, and it fortunately didn’t sound like Weems. “It’s Miss Crane! It’s laundry day!”

“Shit, our laundry,” Enid quietly exclaimed as she went to grab her laundry basket filled with dirty clothes and her uniform crumpled at the top. “We totally forgot.” 

“Hurry, before she opens the door,” Wednesday demanded, shoving her papers into a drawer. 

“Coming, Miss Crane!” Enid called. “We forgot to put it out last night!” 

Wednesday vacated her seat and scrambled to her open closet on her side of the room. She grabbed her laundry basket, which seemed heavier than usual when held in her hands. Enid probably put her overflow of clothes in there, as she sometimes did whenever her own basket got too full. Wednesday stopped complaining about it a long time before then.

Enid quickly stacked Wednesday’s on top of hers and opened the door until it was barely just ajar. Miss Crane was there, wheeling a large bin where she would collect laundry baskets to bring to the laundry room in the lowermost floor of the building and return their clothes clean and folded by the evening. 

“You must’ve fallen asleep early,” she playfully as she lowered the laundry baskets into the bin, noting Enid’s disheveled appearance. “Have you bought more clothes, Enid? This thing is heavy!”

“Something like that,” Enid awkwardly laughed. “Gotta have a lot of clothes, just in case.”

“I’ll bring this up to you around seven,” she said. Enid already knew that. “Have a good day.”

Usually Enid would respond with a chipper farewell, but instead she slammed the door and twisted the lock, leaning up against the wall with a hand over her hammering chest.

Wednesday stood in the center of the room, scanning the area. 

“Do you think she suspects anything of us?” she insecurely asked Enid. 

She seemed softer than normal—almost afraid, if Enid had to guess. Those big eyes pulled at Enid’s heartstrings and almost made her reconsider telling Weems. But Yoko was equally important to her, and right was still right, even at the expense of Wednesday.

Enid wanted to hate her for putting her in such a predicament, but she just couldn’t. 

“She seemed normal,” she replied with a shrug. “I don’t think she’ll ask questions.”

“Good, because I was afraid she would catch a glimpse of Divina,” she sighed. “You left the door open far too wide. You have no spatial awareness.”

Enid looked around the room and kicked away a stuffed seal that was dripping with drool. Divina had been playing with it for the entire weekend. It was quite possibly her most favorite toy from Enid’s vast collection of childlike objects that made Wednesday’s stomach hurt. Enid considered giving it to her once this ordeal was over.

“I should change her and clean her rash,” Enid told Wednesday.

Wednesday reprised her role in her chair. “You don’t need my permission for that.”

Whatever softness was gone and in came the cold sweep of a concentrated eyebrow. Enid sighed and turned on her heel to grab Divina from the floor, where she had been playing, but she didn’t find her there. She leaned down and took a peek under her bed, and then under Wednesday’s, both of which were occupied by dust bunnies and the occasional sock left behind. 

“Where’s Divina?” she asked Wednesday, emerging from Wednesday’s closet after toggling around with the shoes on the floor. “She’s not under the bed, not in your closet. Mine is closed. So is the bathroom.”

Wednesday sprang to her feet. “You lost it?!”

“I didn’t lose it!” Enid exclaimed, flailing about. “You lost it!” 

“Tear this room apart,” Wednesday demanded, already doing her part to throw Enid’s pile of stuffed animals to the ground. “Now.”

On any other day, Enid would’ve been offended by Wednesday destroying her unicorn collection that was meticulously organized against the wall, but she was too worried about Divina than anything else. 

Five minutes and a floor covered in stuffed animals and clothes passed on with Wednesday swearing and mumbling to herself, and then they were both empty-handed. They looked like fools, standing in the middle of a destroyed dorm, with no baby in sight.  

Wednesday lamely dropped a stuffed rabbit at her feet. It squeaked and said, “I love you!” She kicked it across the room and ran a hand over her face, turning to Enid, who was still spinning in a circle. 

“I don’t understand,” she said to Enid. “She was here when Crane came to fetch our laundry.”

Comically, they paused and surveyed the empty room before snapping their heads to face each other.

“You don’t think we just sent her with our laundry, do you?” Enid quietly asked.

“My basket felt heavier than normal,” Wednesday pointed out, finger tapping her chin. “It’s quite possible she crawled in while we were distracted.”

“And how are you calm about that?!” Enid cried. “We just sent a baby—my friend—down the laundry chute!”

Wednesday shrugged against the rapid thudding in her chest. 

“Well, it isn’t like she’s never done that before.” 

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe you lost it, Enid.” 

Enid popped her head up from under the bed, where she had been rifling through the pile of mess she had accumulated over time. Her hair was a wild halo of blonde hair around her face, sticking out like she had been violently electrocuted. 

For a moment Wednesday thought Enid looked like an angel child, a cherub, like the ones she often saw in the locker of a religious kid who bullied Pugsley when they both were still attending public school. She knew, though, that thinking such things, especially during a time wherein she thought her heart was about to come out of both her ears, was undoubtedly wrong. 

“Fuck’s sake, Wednesday, I told you I didn’t lose it!” Enid snapped at her, tossing a blue sneaker onto the bed. “But I did lose that.”

“Stop fooling around, Enid,” Wednesday said from over her shoulder as she closed her bottom desk drawer and stood up. She brushed guilt off her hands using her clothes. “We have torn this entire room to pieces and have yet to see that slobbering, feces-filled thing. I think we can safely assume that she was dropped down the laundry chute when Crane came to retrieve it. It is the only logical explanation for this. She didn’t vanish into thin air, as much as the townspeople might believe that.”  

Enid rose to her feet and stepped over mountains of stuffed animals and shoes as she came around to meet Wednesday in the middle of the room. She noted the way Wednesday had difficulty looking directly at her and was electing to look just beyond her. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” Enid admitted, chewing her bottom lip. “You’re the detective here; you figure it out if you’re so smart.” 

“The most obvious thing to do would be to sneak down to the laundry room and pick through the clothes and linens,” Wednesday said, checking the time on her watch. “Miss Crane always takes our laundry around this time. Ophelia Hall is always her final stop of the day, so therefore, our laundry should already be down the chute and piled in the laundry room.”

“Yeah, with hundreds of other people’s stuff,” Enid scoffed. “Poor Divina is probably being suffocated under a hundred pounds of panties by now.”

“A dream for her, no?” Wednesday remarked with little thought or recognition for what it might sound like. 

“Now is not the time for projection, Wednesday!” Enid threw her hands in the air and kicked away a stuffed animal. “If you think she’s down there, we need to go right now, before someone finds her, or worse, throws her into the washing machine. I can’t go to jail and catch a murder charge!”

“It would likely be manslaughter,” Wednesday easily corrected, already putting on a pair of shoes. “There is a difference between the two. The punishment for manslaughter is usually less than that of murder in any of the degrees.”

Enid shook her head at Wednesday. She understood that Wednesday often missed the point of conversations and sometimes lacked sense of panic and urgency, but she was beginning to think that she would have more luck going solo than having Wednesday as her wingwoman. The entire fiasco had brought them closer, by force, but Enid needed to hold Wednesday’s attention for more than a minute if this was going to work in their favor.

“Focus, Wednesday,” Enid finally told her, voice suddenly firm with authority. “Just stop talking and listen for once.” 

Going rigid and standing at attention like a curious cat with its tail perked up, Wednesday looked at Enid from where she was kneeled down and tying her shoes. She fixed her gaze onto Enid, suddenly distracted by the warm glow of morning light illuminating her like that of an eerie hallway in the middle of the night. 

“We’ll go down to the laundry room. I know a way to get there without anyone seeing us,” Enid continued, having the majority of Wednesday’s attention, although she caught her big eyes wandering astray as if Wednesday were trying to take a photo of her in her mind to remember her by. “We’ll look through what we can, but if we don’t find her, you have no choice but to tell Weems and Faye what happened to Divina. You can’t wait this out anymore. What you did was totally stupid and reckless, and I know you think you’re a genius detective, but even though you’re the smartest person I know, you still screwed up, big time, and as much as I wanna pat your head and tell you it’s okay, it’s not okay anymore.”

Wednesday paused, pursing her lips together before standing up. She was admittedly distracted by the yellowish light that encapsulated Enid. It was still morning and early in the day for a weekend, but the morning sunlight seemed much brighter today. It was flattering on Enid and fit her like a glove, like it had been tailored especially for her. 

“Fine, Enid,” she said. Her shoulders sagged with a feeling of loss. “I’m going to trust you. I understand that my actions may have resulted in catastrophe, and for that I’m going to apologize, but what I will not apologize for, much like your giggling when you text and the way you purposely misspell words on the internet, is my perseverance.” 

“And you don’t have to,” Enid replied. Her cheeks were blushing pink at the way Wednesday looked at her with determination. “I love that you’re stubborn. I just wish you would listen to me when I tell you that you messed up and it’s okay to make mistakes sometimes. Even if it’s not really okay right now, it’s okay to make mistakes.” 

A frustrated feeling washed over Wednesday. She despised the way Enid was staring at her with adoration and a sparkle of sapphire fondness in her eyes. She wasn’t used to being perceived in such a way that seemed so effortlessly forgiving despite all she had done in the past couple of days. 

“Let’s go to the laundry room,” she told Enid, glancing away from her. “I have a feeling the staff haven’t thrown a load in yet.”

Enid’s expression suddenly perked up, like a lightbulb had turned on. “Can’t you, like, have a vision or something? Maybe you can see where she is with your mind.”

Wednesday threw an incredulous look Enid’s way. “My visions do not work that way. I cannot induce them by touch or thought alone. They simply come about at random, sometimes triggered by certain elements.”

Enid knew about Tyler and the vision that had been born when he kissed Wednesday. She didn’t often think about it, because she didn’t exactly appreciate the image of Wednesday’s lips on anyone else’s. Wednesday had eventually told her about that evening at the Weathervane, and even provided the detail that something had seemed amiss shortly before the kiss. The most important detail of the story, though, was that Wednesday had admitted to Enid that she was a fool for entertaining what she thought was a normie. 

She didn’t want to think about Tyler or the fact that he once had the privilege of sharing such intimacy with Wednesday, so she sighed and took a big breath of air. Her eyes landed on Wednesday’s pouty lips, and she felt herself melting. 

“Let’s go downstairs. We’ll take the back way,” she told Wednesday. “If we run into anybody, act normal. Just say we’re going to the quad for fresh air since we can’t leave campus.” 

“Enid,” Wednesday scoffed, affronted by the statement, “you are directing me as if I’ve never told a lie to deceive myself out of trouble. Perhaps I should be the one giving you advice.”

Shrugging, Enid quirked up her lips into a smile. “I know I’m working with the best detective in all of America, but I’m pretty good at lying, too. Last summer I told my mom I had a fever and couldn’t go to my grandma’s house with her and my brothers. I used a heating pad to make my forehead hot and mixed some oatmeal and grits to make fake vomit and put it in the toilet. After they left, I snuck out of the house and went to a friend’s house for the day.” 

Wednesday tilted her head at that. “You’ve never told me this before.” 

“It wasn’t important,” Enid replied, shrugging again. “Though, she did find out about it, because I didn’t know she had put a tracker on my phone and was watching my every move. That was an ass-whooping I’ll never forget.” 

Wednesday’s eyebrows angrily scrunched in a comical way that made her look like a grumpy cat. She made a mental note to deal with Esther Sinclair at a more appropriate time. For the moment, though, she had to handle the matter at hand, and that was to get into the laundry room. 

“Let’s go find her,” she told Enid. “And if we do not find her, I’ll accept the lecture from you.”

Enid cheekily grinned. “I’m holding you to that, Addams.” 

—

Wednesday had never seen so many underwear and bras in her life before. There was an abundance of them; it was like a giant pool of push-up bras, boxer shorts, and skimpy undergarments that just had to be uncomfortable to sit in.

The laundry room was expansive and stretched almost further than Wednesday’s vision could properly absorb. It was almost like a standard laundromat in a small town. There were ten sets of front-loader washers and dryers, each stacked upon each other with a drying rack wedged in between each set. All of them were quiet and the doors were hanging open, much to Enid’s relief. 

“I don’t quite understand how they manage to not mix everyone’s clothing up,” Wednesday pointed out as she picked through a pile of feminine clothing. “The amount of laundry is absolutely bizarre. It’s a wonder all of our belongings have been returned and nothing has been lost in this abyss of thongs and sweaty, crusty tube socks.” 

Enid was on the opposite end of the laundry mountain, practically swimming through boys clothes that reeked of weed and awful masculine scents that reminded her of public school gym class on a rainy afternoon. “I heard that Crane has divination powers triggered by touch. She holds something in her hand and can see who it belongs to. She separates it by hand, I guess.”

“That would take an awfully long time,” Wednesday mentioned, flicking a pink bra across the room. “It doesn’t make much sense.”

“Maybe she has help,” Enid tried to reason as she rifled through a pile of very familiar clothing. She held a pair of sunset orange underwear in her hands. THURSDAY was printed in bold white letters on the back. “Found Yoko’s laundry!”

At the ghastly sight of the garment, Wednesday’s eyebrows did a twitch. “You’ve seen her underpants before?” She paused, eyes zeroing in on Enid. “I’m sure Divina won’t be pleased to find that out once she’s reverted to her natural state of teenaged angst.” 

“You’ve never had a sleepover with another girl before?” Enid inquired, tossing aside the underwear and resuming pushing aside another pile. “Divina knows. None of us wear pants when we have sleepovers. It’s normal girl stuff, ya know. Don’t sexualize it.”

Wednesday fiddled with a shirt she held in her hands. “That seems highly inappropriate and abnormal.”

“You wanna talk about normal?” Enid scoffed at her. “We’re standing in a million pounds of underwear that don’t belong to us, worried about a baby that you irresponsibly created, and you wanna talk about normal?” 

“You are making it sound like I had sex and created that monster myself,” Wednesday grizzled, throwing the shirt across the room. “Keep your voice down before someone hears you and assumes that I’ve made the mistake of reproducing. I don’t want anyone asking questions.”

“The police already did that,” Enid sourly reminded, now wading through another stack of clothes. She carefully tipped it over, disappointed to find only the cement floor underneath. “She’s not here, Wednesday. We keep digging and nothing is happening.”

Wednesday paused, surveying the damage they’d done to the room. If Crane had strategically placed any of the clothes in specific areas, she was certain to notice that they had been tampered with. 

It was undoubtedly quiet, a little too quiet, if Wednesday had to give her own opinion. A knot formed in the bottom of her belly, and she tried to dispel it with a few deep breaths, but it only made the coil wind tighter.

“I just thought of the possibility that she suffocated,” Wednesday admitted as her throat went entirely dry. “An infant so small could not survive the weight of clothing piled on top of her. A baby can easily suffocate under one blanket or having their airway restricted by a stuffed animal or crib bumper.”

Enid sucked in a large breath, glaring helplessly at the pool of fabric she was swimming in. She had not heard the wail of a baby calling out to her, nor could her werewolf sense of smell detect anything that often came along with a teething infant. It was silent, and the only thing she could smell was the must of sweaty gym clothes and stale perfume.

“She’s not dead,” Enid insisted. “I can’t go to prison, Wednesday. She’s not fucking dead. She’s here somewhere.”

Admittedly, Wednesday was growing nauseous at the thought of Divina perishing under her and Enid’s lackluster care. She understood that neither of them were adequately equipped to parent an infant without risking an infant homicide charge, but she hadn’t thought something of the sort would actually happen. 

“I don’t know what to say, Enid,” Wednesday openly said, shaking her head. “We have yet to find her. The only way I would imagine she isn’t dead is if we don’t find a body under all of this mess. And at that point, I’d be at a loss as to where she could be, and I will turn myself in. I will take the blame for this.”

Enid screwed up her face. Her cheeks were almost blood red with fury and her pupils dilated like she had just seen something absolutely terrifying.

“Yeah, you will take the blame for this,” she scoffed at Wednesday. “This is no one’s fault but your own. You turned her into a baby, you decided that your reputation as an amateur detective and a seer was more important than fixing the problem, you refused to tell someone what happened and put a stop to it before it got to this point. So yeah, you will take the blame, and I’m not going to admit to any fault on my part, because it’s not my fault. You dragged me into this, but I’m not going down with you. I will do a lot of things for you, Wednesday, but I have to draw the line somewhere, and that’s right here. So give up, go find a responsible adult, and come clean about it.”

Wednesday had never been so desperate to hear a baby mewl or smell the atrocity that often accompanied a soiled infant who needed changing. As Enid’s words began to sink in, Wednesday became increasingly resigned about the loss of Divina, whether the baby was now roaming freely throughout the school or had simply suffocated to death after anxiously crying out for help until her body couldn’t withstand the strain any longer. 

She felt as if she was mourning now, and not in the way she typically enjoyed on a cold Friday morning at a stranger’s funeral. This was much different, because she had lost a human child that she’d forced herself to take responsibility over, and she was surely going to be thrown into a cell by dinner time once everything would come to light. 

“Fine, Enid,” she whispered. Her throat ached whenever she spoke louder than that. “I do not want to admit defeat, but I have come to a dead-end, and there is nothing more I can do about it. I suppose now would be the ideal time to admit to my fault and confess to Weems what I’ve done.”

“Ya think?” Enid made a disbelieving sound, shaking her head. 

“I’ll ensure that you won’t be held accountable for any of it.” Wednesday dropped a pair of girls’ shorts, bitterly kicking over a pile of socks. “Weems will be livid with the both of us, as expected, but I’m quite persuasive. You won’t need to worry about being expelled or reprimanded for my behavior.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Enid quietly said, trying not to focus on a faint hissing noise emitting from the boiler. “I’m worried about you, Wednesday. I care about you. I don’t wanna see you get locked up or expelled for something this stupid. I do think you deserve a consequence, but I don’t want that to be you going away. I’ll miss you more than you think. You’re cold and rude, but I love that about you, because we work.” 

It seemed redundant to say. Enid had been ranting about her affection for Wednesday, ad nauseam, for days, but she couldn’t help herself but to repeat it until she was as blue as the streaks in her hair. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Enid, but you don’t need to worry,” Wednesday attempted to appease, even if her heart felt intensely heavier than it did the moment she had realized that Divina had gone missing under her neglectful eye. “It’ll be fine. I assure you.”

She was lying through her teeth, only trying to keep Enid quiet and stop her from saying such exaggerating sweet things about her, but she was also trying to maintain her composure and not spiral into a frenzy over losing Enid because of her own idiotic mistake.

“Let’s go see Weems, then,” Enid sniffed, already stepping out of the pool of clothing that kept her weighted to the floor. She felt needlessly trapped and her feet felt like rocks. “I hope Divina is okay. Yoko will never forgive me if she…you know.”

Wednesday quickly followed behind, although far less in a hurry. She had little to say to Enid to ease the palpable fear. There was nothing original to be said that hadn’t already been declared and spouted to placate Enid and prevent her from running to a trusted adult. 

The left the laundry room, walking together stiffly. Enid snuffled every other second, holding in a flood of tears, while Wednesday kept her face stoic and her eyes peeled for a wandering infant. 

“Enid, Wednesday!”

Quickly growing even colder, Wednesday stopped in her tracks, effectively bumping into a distracted Enid. They were only a few doors down from Weems’s office, standing between two stone pillars that seemed so much larger and more terrifying than they ever had before. 

“Ms. Faye,” Wednesday tightly greeted, sucking in a breath. 

“I went up to your room, but neither of you answered,” Ms. Faye said, winded. She wiped invisible sweat from her brow. “Ms. Weems would like to see both of you in her office. Right now.”

“How convenient,” Wednesday huffed. “We were just going there.”

“She asked that I escort you.” Ms. Faye beckoned them. “Come along.”

Enid stepped forward, all too eager to get it over with, but Wednesday abruptly put a hand in front of her. 

“What is this about?” Wednesday asked Ms. Faye, growing indignant by the way her teacher seemed too nonchalant. In her experience, that almost never ended well. “If she would like to interrogate me further about Divina’s disappearance, she may do so in the presence of my parents. I’ve had enough of her accusatory tone towards me. Somehow I am always at fault and to blame for every minor ordeal that happens here. They’ll be displeased to find out that Weems forced me to speak to Sheriff Galpin without their knowledge. I’m sure that alone was illegal.” 

The mere thought of involving her parents made her stomach twist and turn. She had yet to reach out to them for help, and it was far from her mind at that point. Grandmama might’ve been of some use to her, but not without word getting back to her mother about what she’d done to her classmate. None of it was worth it. Sometimes accepting punishment was far better than anything her parents could have done. 

“Wednesday, she would just like a word with you both,” Ms. Faye said, exasperated. “Let’s not get worked up and in a frenzy.”

With a soft sigh, Wednesday shuffled forward but didn’t hang her head. She kept her jaw tight and her eyes forward, feeling the warmth of Enid following closely behind as they were both herded into Weems’s office by Faye, who held a watchful eye on the back of Wednesday’s stubborn head.

Greeted by warm firelight and the smell of ash, Wednesday approached the large desk with Enid nervously twitching at her side like an obedient puppy. Weems’s chair was turned towards the window, leaving much to the imagination and perplexing Wednesday, who assumed that this was some ruse to rile her up and make her talk. 

Faye waved her hand and the heavy door shut, startling Enid. Wednesday was surprised to see that her teacher did not leave and instead came around the desk and folded her hands in a reserved manner. 

The chair quickly spun around and there sat a very exhausted yet quietly infuriated Weems, holding a squirming baby on her lap. She gave Wednesday a telling look filled with rage, electively ignoring the appall on Enid’s face, and shook her head.

“Ladies,” Weems coldly said, “I’ve summoned you for a reason.”

“Cute baby,” Enid blurted out. “Didn’t know you had one of those. Who’s the dad?”

Weems made no effort to react, staring boldly into Enid’s eyes with a look that seemed to be silent equivalent of beating her with a belt. Enid shrunk into herself, modestly wrapping her arms around her torso.  

“I have several questions, but we will start with the obvious,” Weems began, lifting Divina up so she was standing on her knees. She gripped the little one from around the diaper that could’ve used a change. “Is this duct tape?”

“Perhaps,” Wednesday answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Let’s not play games, Miss Addams. You’ve already been striking my nerves for far longer than I should have allowed,” Weems tutted at her, tucking Divina close to her chest and affectionately running her fingers through the baby hairs atop her fragile head. “Why didn’t you report your mishap as soon as it happened? The entire town is in a frenzy and I’ve been fending off the press.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Wednesday replied. “You’re accusing me again.”

Enid subtly threw an elbow into Wednesday’s side, glaring at her. Wednesday exchanged a nervous look with her before turning back to a frowning Weems, who was partially entertaining Divina with the silver pendant hanging around her neck.

“I know this is Divina,” Weems said, patting the baby’s bare back. “She has an identifying birthmark that perfectly matches the description her parents provided to the police. Ms. Crane found her in the laundry room and quickly brought her to me. You are fortunate she wasn’t injured or poisoned, although I do have concerns about this bruise on her head.”

Divina cooed, wiggling around in Weems’s lap. She managed to pivot herself so she could observe the world around her, suddenly interested in the voices. At the sight of Enid and Wednesday, she eagerly stretched out her little arms and shrieked. 

“Mama!”

Weems’s frown shifted into an expression of disdain and horror. She looked up at her two pupils, who were now completely stiff, and shook her head. 

“It seems that she has taken quite a liking to both of you,” said Weems. “That’s the most vocal she’s been since she was brought to me.” 

Divina clenched a fist and waved it in no particular direction, but her eyes were set directly between Enid and Wednesday. “Mama!”

“I’m not your mother, cretin,” Wednesday muttered. 

“Ma!” Divina pinched her eyebrows together, still flailing her hands. Her upset was palpable now. She fussed and whined, grunting like she was in pain. “Ma!”

Weems lifted Divina and set her on her desk with her feet flat on the wood. Divina bounced, her breathing excitedly heavy as she stomped her feet and reached out towards either Wednesday or Enid, demanding to be picked up. 

Despite the initial frozen terror that ran through her body, Enid thawed her muscles just enough to grab Divina. The baby immediately flopped onto Enid’s shoulder, tucking her nose into her neck and dragging a tiny trail of fingernail marks down her collarbone. 

“I want the truth and nothing but the truth,” Weems demanded. She turned to Wednesday. “Starting with you, young lady.”

The truth was beginning to elude Wednesday. She had not anticipated for any of this to happen, and if she had known, she would have prepared a more cohesively believable lie ahead of time, but now that she was looking in the face of an angry principal, she was choked up and almost speechless.

For once, she had no choice but to tell the entire truth. 

“The project Ms. Faye assigned me and Divina went terribly wrong the day we did it,” she told Weems, sparing her the gory details of her mistake. She pretended that Ms. Faye wasn’t standing somewhere nearby with a scowl on her face. “I must have read or recited the spell incorrectly, and as you can see, it had some…undesirable results.”

Weems nodded. “And then?”

“And then Enid discovered what I had done, and despite her relentless insisting that I report it, I kept Divina in our room while I attempted to find a remedy in my spell books. I was nearly desperate enough to contact my family,” she admitted. 

“But you weren’t desperate enough to tell someone what had happened,” Weems concluded. “Is that right?”

Wednesday nodded. “Perhaps.”

“And why was that?” 

Wednesday went quiet for a moment. Enid gently nodded at her, urging her with silent demand as she swayed Divina into a brief nap on her shoulder. 

“I assumed that I could handle the situation myself and utilize my lifelong experience in spell work to reverse the damage,” Wednesday said. Her chest was starting to noticeably ache. “And before you reprimand Enid, she didn’t have anything to do with this. She has been pushing me to confess, but I continued to refuse, until we realized that Divina was gone. I was going to come here to see you and admit my fault, but Ms. Faye escorted us here at the most convenient time.”

Weems sighed heavily. “Why did you lie when the sheriff questioned you?”

“I was certain I could handle this. I had every intention of turning her back,” Wednesday admitted. “You were already under the impression that I had done something to Divina before you’d even called me here to be forcefully interrogated by him.”

“Was I wrong?” Weems quirked a brow. “Was that an improper accusation to make? It doesn’t seem to be.”

Wednesday loathed when Weems was right. She oftentimes felt insecure around her, always taken aback by just how steadfast Weems could be in reading her.

“You were wrong in the sense that you had me interrogated, on the record, without my parents present,” she replied. “It’s the principle of the matter.”

“And I wasn’t too far off in my assumptions about you,” Weems chuckled, and it confused Wednesday. “Was I?”

Wednesday exhaled. “Perhaps not.”

“Right.” 

The vein in Weems’s neck began to throb, a telltale sign that she was bottling everything up, likely to avoid scaring Divina and damaging her reputation as a tenured principal. Wednesday could read her, too, almost as well as Weems could read her. 

“So what is my punishment?” Wednesday asked, almost too afraid. “I suppose expulsion is what you’ve already decided upon when you began playing judge, jury, executioner.”

As Weems went to say something, Enid quickly interjected, bouncing a sleepy Divina on her hip. 

“If you’re gonna expel Wednesday, you’ll have to expel me, too,” she said to Weems, nervously eyeing the girl standing rigid next to her. “She didn’t do this alone. I know she was the one who changed Divina into a baby, but I should’ve said something about it. I knew it was wrong. It’s not fair that she has to leave and I get to stay.”

Wednesday perked up at that, looking at Enid with surprise. Enid was comforting Divina by bouncing and swaying, but Wednesday could see that it was also partially to comfort herself. 

“I never said I was going to expel either of you,” Weems said, shaking her head. “Miss Addams is making very brash assumptions about my character as a headmistress.”

“You expelled me once,” Wednesday reminded. She refrained from wincing at the memory of leaving Enid she had tried so hard to shake away with deep breathing exercises and plotting mayhem. “You only want to keep me here because I was capable of preventing this entire godforsaken place from burning to a crisp and it would reflect poorly on you if you had still decided to expel me after the fact.” 

Weems made a scoffing noise, clearly affronted. “That is a very crass thing to say. But beyond that, I am not going to expel you for this little…stunt of yours. I halfway expected something to go awry when I discovered that you’d been assigned such a risky task. And before you assume anything more, I do trust your abilities, but I also understand that you are sixteen and are prone to recklessness by age alone, not to mention your familial history and the knack your family has for eluding the rules. In fact, I was prepared for this, just as I was the first time something like this happened with this assignment.”

Enid awkwardly squirmed. “You mean…this happened before?”

“Something alike, yes,” Weems hummed, like she was trying not to laugh. “It’s not every day a little girl toddles into my office after a spell gone wrong. Believe me when I say I cherish the humor. But I only cherish it when it’s immediately brought to my attention and not hidden behind closed doors for an entire weekend while the town brandishes their pitchforks at me under the impression that I allowed one of my students to come up missing.” 

Ms. Faye cleared her throat. “Wednesday, you should have told me that something went wrong with your spell. I’ve seen this before. It’s not always easy to remedy, but I’ve had a one-hundred percent success rate in bringing someone back. However, I’ve never attempted a remediation spell after more than a few hours. I’ll do my best to revert her back into her teenage self, but I’ve had to call in some extra hands, and we’ll have to wait until the moon is at its fullest. Let this be a lesson to you.”

The admonishing was gentle yet firm. Wednesday almost appreciated just how easy Faye was being on her, all things considered. She felt quite idiotic about it, wondering why she had to be so headstrong about her talents and skills. It wasn’t as if it had done her any good.

“I still don’t understand what went wrong,” Wednesday admitted. “I’m certain I recited the incantation perfectly. I’m quite fluent in Latin.”

“You didn’t break the salt circle during the spell?” Ms. Faye inquired. 

“No, it was intact when I realized that something had gone wrong,” Wednesday said, a chill traveling up her spine. “I assure you that the environment was ideal. After I recited the spell, the candles burned out on their own and the room was the perfect temperature to store a corpse.”

Ms. Faye hummed, contemplating with her finger tapping her chin. She was in thought for awhile, leaving only the ticking of the clock and Divina’s intermittent gurgling to be heard.

“You did it in the dark, right?” Faye asked, head tilted.

“I do my best work in the dark,” Wednesday replied with a firm nod. “I turned the lights out.”

“And you closed your curtains?”

Wednesday tried, admittedly with more effort than it should’ve taken, to recall the moment she had come to the conclusion that she was absolutely and utterly screwed.

“We don’t have curtains in our dorm,” she told Faye. “Natural light is always streaming through the glass. It’s our main source of light.”

Ms. Faye sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Well, that might’ve been the problem. These types of spells are not meant to be interfered with by light of any kind. It can hinder the results.”

“That was not specified at all,” Wednesday grunted, suddenly agitated. “That should have been mentioned somewhere in the book or attached to the assignment. It’s no wonder mishaps like this happen. You aren’t providing the necessary warnings and precautions to ensure it won’t happen.”

“The warnings stated that the room needs to be entirely dark,” Ms. Faye said. “And if you had been listening to my instructions in class instead of spacing out, you would have heard my warnings loud and clear. I understand that things are…different than they were last semester. I do not fault you for being a bit distracted.”

A knot tightened in Wednesday’s throat. She despised when people made bold generalizations about the traumatic experience she had suffered at the hands of Laurel and her obedient monster. It wasn’t as if Faye knew her very well at all. It seemed unfair of her to pin such accusations on Wednesday when she’d hardly said more than a handful of words to her.

“Fine,” Wednesday huffed, only because she didn’t want to take the risk of tears falling from her eyes if she attempted to argue that she, in fact, was not traumatized by what had happened. She looked to Weems, expectant. “What is my punishment?”

“We will discuss that in a moment, Miss Addams,” Weems gently said. She gestured to Ms. Faye. “Ms. Faye, would you please take little Divina and bring her to your classroom while you wait for Mrs. Luna to arrive? Keep a close on her so this might not happen again.”

Divina lifted her head at the sound of her name, her tiny hands gripping fistfuls of Enid’s clothes. She mewled like a hungry kitten, shaking her head when Faye’s maternal yet unfamiliar hands tried to pry from Enid. 

“Mama!” she wailed. 

“Bye, baby,” Enid murmured sadly to Divina.

Wednesday watched, pitiful, as Faye wrangled a whining Divina out of Enid’s arms. As she watched her carry Divina out of the office, she wondered if she would even miss the little cretin as she was. She was still of the opinion that babies were disgusting, but Divina had begun to grow on her, and she almost felt sad watching Faye tote her away. 

When the door shut and Divina’s sniffling quieted down into faraway echoes that were sure to plague Wednesday’s nightmares, Wednesday and Enid stood close together and listened to the flames roar in the fireplace. 

Weems sighed. “I’m disappointed in the both of you. And I should expel you both for this stunt, not because of what happened, but because you two hid it from me, but I’ve decided against it. I have to admit, when I first found Divina and tied her to you, Miss Addams, I was not surprised, but I was definitely livid with you. Sometimes I like to ignorantly think that you know better than to keep secrets from me. This was one of those times.”

If there was one approach to discipline that Wednesday absolutely hated, it was the “I’m not mad, just disappointed” approach. Most times that had no effect on her, and other times it was entirely laughable, but on the rare occasion it did work, like whenever Enid reminded her of just how terrible some of her behaviors could be, it felt like another stab to the gut.

“Are you gonna whoop us with a ruler like in the movies?” Enid asked. 

Weems chuckled. “That’s too outdated for me, I have to say. No, I have something much better, something that will give you plenty of time to reflect on what you did wrong. But before I get to that, I have another question.” Wednesday rolled her eyes, prompting Weems to continue. “What happened to Divina’s head? That bruise is concerning. I did have the nurse take a quick look, and she said it should be fine, but I’d like to know how it happened.”

Pursing her lips, Enid looked to Wednesday, who sighed. 

“She took a tumble off the bed and knocked her head on the floor,” Wednesday said. “We ensured she wouldn’t slip into a coma. She hardly cried.”

“You should know that babies are fragile creatures. They don’t know any better.” Weems frowned. “Did anything else happen while she was under your care? Anything you’d like to confess? Now is the time before I deliver your punishment.” 

“I suppose now would be the time to tell you that I attempted a reversal spell and it did not work,” said Wednesday. “However, it didn’t exacerbate any of the side effects or cause any adverse reactions, so I assume it’s fine.”

Weems pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be sure to inform Ms. Faye of that before the professional spell-caster arrives.” She sighed, reaching into a desk drawer. “If that’s all, I’m assigning you both the same punishment. I initially thought it made more sense for you, Miss Addams, to suffer far more severely, but on second thought, this was certainly a team effort, and I want to be fair.”

“Great,” Enid muttered. 

“Expulsion is too extreme, and detention is much too easy, and we haven’t paddled anyone in thirty years, so I had to get a bit creative with your consequence, but after some thought, I finally found something that might work. I know you’ll both grizzle about it, and that’s exactly what I anticipate,” Weems said. “Since you’ve made such a great team, you are going to clean the cafeteria floor every Friday and Saturday evening after dinner, for the rest of the semester, together, and I’ll be there to ensure that you do.”

As much as Enid hated the idea of losing her weekend evenings to cleaning, she didn’t think it was all that horrible in comparison to what she had assumed was going to happen to her, and so she spoke up. “That’s all? We can clean it in no time.”

“With these.” Weems dropped two toothbrushes, one pink and one black, on the desk. “I took the liberty of selecting your preferred colors, lest Miss Addams attempts to milk an allergic reaction.”

Enid’s jaw unhinged. “That’s gonna take forever!”

“Not with both of your efforts,” Weems said, smiling. “You’re a dream team. And not to worry about Wednesday here shirking her responsibility.” She threw Wednesday a knowing look. “I’ll personally escort her myself if that’s what it takes.”

Wednesday huffed. “You are callous.”

“I’m a disciplinarian.” Weems gestured to the door. “If nothing else is to be said, you may grab your toothbrush and go on.” 

Enid snatched the pink one off the desk, already stomping out of the office with little regard for seething Wednesday, who was still lingering at Weems’s desk with an infuriated stare. 

“I suppose Ms. Faye is intending to fail me for this?” Wednesday surmised. “Fortunately one F isn’t going to be detrimental to my overall grade.”

“That’s entirely up to her,” Weems replied. She sighed thoughtfully. “I admire how headstrong you are. You were doing what you thought was the right thing by trying to remedy this on your own, and while you’re one of the brightest students I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I’m disappointed in you for not seeking help. Even so, I’m impressed that you and Miss Sinclair managed to keep that little one alive, even with a few bruises.”

“Enid did a majority of the childcare,” Wednesday said, shrugging. “She’s shockingly decent at it.”

“I appreciate the creativity it took to keep an infant hidden and alive for an entire weekend,” she chuckled wistfully. “If anyone was going to be wrapped up in this situation, it would have to be an Addams child. If your parents are ever interested in giving me a heart attack, they’re more than welcome to enroll your brother. Although, I fear the consequences of that.”

“They’re considering,” Wednesday said, only to worry Weems. “I suppose I’ll leave now. I’m sure Enid is fuming. I’ll calm her down so you also won’t have a rabid werewolf running amok while the feeding frenzy is still here.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Addams,” Weems positively hummed. “You really are a uniquely frustrating child.” 

“It’s my hallmark,” Wednesday said. “I do it with my best intentions. I at least attempted to keep Divina alive when that was the last thing I wanted to do. Of course, that was mostly due to Enid’s nagging, but still, I didn’t toss her into a dumpster.”

“You might force me into an early retirement, but I’m only thankful that Miss Sinclair has positively influenced you into making more mindful choices.” Weems was still smiling, infuriating Wednesday. “I can appreciate the bond you two have formed.”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t as if I’ve had much of an option but to allow her to grow on me like a malignant tumor,” Wednesday grumbled. “She isn’t so terrible. When she’s asleep. Some days are easier than others.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your therapy appointments,” said Weems, sitting more upright and leaning forward, like she had been anticipating reminding Wednesday. “I’m going to see to it that you don’t escape this time, and that you are benefitting from your sessions.”

Weems rarely ever let things go, Wednesday quickly discovered. Every time Weems had to escort Wednesday to yet another therapy appointment, she kept close watch of her little menace and all the potential exits she might’ve tried to escape from. She was often overprotective and needlessly overbearing when it came to Wednesday leaving campus, sometimes even staying awake until ungodly hours to catch her in the act of sneaking in after yet another midnight escapade and then escorting her up to bed with a gentle reprimand and a goodnight. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Wednesday told her, picking up the black toothbrush. “I’m going to check on Enid. I have a feeling that she isn’t too pleased with me.”

“She’ll be alright,” Weems assured. “She’s upset because I’ve ruined her Friday night shopping sprees for the next few months.” 

“You’ve ruined my writing hour, too,” Wednesday said, running a finger over the bristles of the toothbrush. “You’re fantastic at angering me.”

“Perhaps, but it’s a lesson that’s going to be learned.” Weems pointed at the door. “Upstairs you go. No funny business. I’ll ensure that Divina is taken care of. You needn’t worry about her anymore.”

Wednesday almost laughed at that. “I wasn’t ever too worried about her.”

Weems’s eyebrow perked up. “She was fed and cared for, and while I initially thought the duct-taped diaper was a bit negligent, I understood that you did your best, even if Miss Sinclair likely took the brunt of the child rearing. If you didn’t care about Divina, you wouldn’t have gone searching for her when you realized she had vanished from your room and ended up down the laundry chute.”

“How did you know about that part?” Wednesday asked in a mutter.

“You just told me.” 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Wednesday sulked out of the room, but not before looking back at her principal with such a defeated look on her face. She seemed so small from so far away, especially in comparison to the alcove that enveloped her. 

“I understand why you never had children, Ms. Weems,” she said, shoulders relaxing with an overwhelmed sigh. “They are utterly exhausting.”

Weems chuckled at her. “Oh, I know. You’re more than plenty for me.”

Chapter Text

Sulking, Wednesday returned to the dorm she unhappily shared with Enid, anticipating finding Enid tearing the coloring book pages and pop music posters off the walls in a fit of werewolf rage. She had to take a sobering breath to prepare herself, toothbrush clutched tightly in her fist, before she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

To her surprise, everything was the way she had left it before they’d gone searching for baby Divina. It was no more trashed than it was before they’d left, and Enid was sitting on the edge of her desk with her beloved cellphone in her hands as she furiously typed what was surely a long-winded message to her followers about how angry she was at Wednesday for putting her in such an unsavory position and ruining her weekend evenings for the foreseeable future. 

Wednesday instinctively looked down, thinking she might see a baby crawling around her feet, and quickly came back to the present and shook the thought away as she shut the door. 

Enid’s head immediately lifted at the sound of Wednesday slowly approaching her. Her jaw was tense and her eyes were full of rage, but she was quiet about setting aside her phone and giving Wednesday her undivided attention.

“I wanna be pissed at you,” Enid began, dropping her hands into her lap. 

Wednesday sighed silently, only noticeable by the sag of her shoulders. “But?”

“But it’s just not worth it,” Enid continued. Her cheeks flushed pink and she glared at the floor, nudging away Divina’s abandoned bottle. “I understand who you are, and I understand that you do things like this, and I understand that I’m going to keep following you like a little puppy for as long as I’m allowed to know you, which is only gonna be a couple more years, and then we’ll graduate from here and move on and I’m gonna have a fucking litter of kids hanging off me and drive an ugly-ass minivan filled with car seats while you live your best life as a famous author, and we’ll forget all about each other by the time we’re thirty. So, it’s just not worth it, Wednesday. It’s really not that deep, even if my shopping sprees and movie nights are ruined for awhile. Eventually I’ll never see you again, and that’s worse than having to scrape shit off the floor with a toothbrush. So yeah, I’m pissed off and angry that I had to take the punishment for something you started, but I don’t have a lot of time left with you here, so I’m gonna choose to be the bigger person and move on from this incident because I love you too fucking much to fight with you anymore.”

Wednesday stood rigid, head tilting as she tried to process Enid’s words. It was, admittedly, very difficult to filter everything and fit the message into a neurotypical box without feeling like she was going to combust from what she was able to identify as overwhelm. So much was said but almost nothing at all, and Wednesday felt her insides twist up again. 

Enid looked up, red in the face, skin the color of a Valentine’s Day heart. She pursed her lips and took in the sight of Wednesday, who made absolutely no effort to move. 

“Say something please,” Enid muttered to her, planting her palms firmly on the mattress and grabbing fistfuls of her comforter. “Please?”

Wednesday felt the heaviness of another bated breath leave her as she exhaled through her nose. She didn’t know what to say, or what the right thing to say might have been, but she found herself taking up the empty space next to Enid. 

Nothing was said for awhile. It might have been a minute or an hour, but after an unspecified amount of time lapsed and the sunlight began to explode over the room as it peaked, Wednesday looked to Enid, who was glaring at a dried milk stain Divina had drooled on the floor. 

“I’m not good with feelings if they’re not inherently violent or self-deprecating, and I think you know that,” Wednesday attempted, sucking in a breath. “However, I think that the therapy sessions I’ve been forced to attend have done something to me, because I’m beginning to feel something besides that.”

Enid turned her head, and Wednesday saw the silver lines of tear stains trickling down her pink cheeks. 

“And what is it that you feel?” Enid sniffled.

Of course, Enid wasn’t going to expect much of anything from Wednesday if it didn’t involve murder or getting into some kind of trouble, but she seemed hopeful as her face softened the slightest bit. Wednesday couldn’t help but think that Enid was the prettiest thing she had seen in her lifetime, even if she wasn’t the kind of person who gravitated towards pretty. 

“I feel…well, without being too sappy and speaking like a Shakespearean poet about to drink the poison after confessing her love, I feel…” Wednesday swallowed what felt like sand in her throat. “I feel…”

Enid snorted. It sounded bitter, but under her hair that glimmered gold, she was smiling from ear to ear, and then she was laughing.  

“Jesus, Wednesday,” she giggled. “I know you suck at expressing yourself if it’s not forged in blood and mayhem and murder, but can you at least tell me you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re pretty,” Wednesday parroted easily, and then her heart stopped beating for a moment, or so she thought. She took a breath. “Was that all?”

“You don’t mean it,” she said. 

“I do mean it,” Wednesday insisted, turning a bit so she could see the gold in its entirety. “I am not good with these things, but I think you are pretty and all the other adjectives and synonyms that have ever been written, by quill or by keyboard, and I will firmly stand by that sentiment. When I get a glimpse of your gaudy eyesore of a wardrobe that could stop traffic on a busy highway during rush hour, I feel pins and needles in my eyes, and it feels so good.”

Enid perked up a bit but didn’t get her hopes up too much. She buried her elbows into her thighs and put her chin in her hands.

“You really have an interesting way with words, Wednesday,” she said, giving her half of a smile. “But I know that you don’t feel the same way that I feel about you. So just say it so we can move on and I can decide which stupid werewolf I’m gonna get stuck reproducing with. I’m pretty sure my mom has a whole box of my old baby clothes she can’t wait to pass down to me for my first kid to wear.”

Wednesday made a face that could have been considered constipated. She had watched Enid interact with Divina, and while Enid was arguably good at parenting and handling the messes that often accompanied tiny humans, Wednesday could not fathom her with a child of her own, especially one created with a boy that she wouldn’t ever meet. The idea of it even made her a little sick to her stomach. 

“You can’t reproduce with some stupid werewolf boy, Enid,” she said plaintively, shaking her head like that was going to dispel away the awful thoughts of Enid birthing a random man’s child. “You can’t.”

“Well, if you do feel something for me—and I hope that you do, because it would be totally embarrassing for me if I’m just assuming things and admitting to you that I really, really like you as more than a friend or a roomie—you gotta tell me, or I’m gonna be in the maternity ward in T-minus-ten years, because that’s all I’ve got left before my life totally falls apart,” Enid said. She made a scoffing sound. “And trust me, it’s already going to shit.” 

It was terrifying for Wednesday to think that she was the only thing dividing Enid and an unhappy marriage and a litter of children climbing on her like a matriarchal tree. She hadn’t often considered the fact that one day they would become distant acquaintances, in contact only by phone calls and letters exchanged every so often, maybe when Wednesday released a new book or when Enid spawned another baby that looked just like her unfortunate-looking husband that her mother had selected for her. 

She didn’t want to throw up on Enid’s shoes, so she looked into bright blue eyes with certainty and said, “I reciprocate your feelings towards me, Enid.”

Enid’s eyes lit up, and then the light dimmed just as quickly as it had appeared. 

“You don’t mean that,” she said dejectedly. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do you know me, Enid?” Wednesday asked, and before Enid could answer the rhetorical question, she continued. “I have spent my entire life rejecting the very idea of romance. I also don’t believe in succumbing to the societal construct that is marriage simply because it’s the right thing to do or the next step when you’ve hit a wall or a crisis. I would not be telling you this if it were not true.” 

Enid took a moment to ponder that. Her stomach felt queasy and she didn’t know whether to throw her arms around Wednesday or just vomit everywhere. 

“Are you sure?” she asked Wednesday, her voice so feeble that it almost didn’t sound like her at all. “Don’t lead me on. Just tell me the truth. We can both move on. I just don’t wanna lose you. When we were taking care of Divina, I thought about us growing up and drifting apart from each other after this. It happens to everyone. It happened to my parents. Like, ten years ago, my mom went to her twentieth high school reunion and didn’t recognize anyone. They all had kids and were married or divorced or pregnant or something like that. They all used to be friends and then…and then they left and never heard from each other again. And when they finally met again, it was like meeting a stranger. I don’t want that to happen to us. I don’t want you to see me in twenty years and I’ve got a ton of fucking kids I have to abandon at their grandparents’ house and a husband who doesn’t do shit but still expects sex.” 

“Enid,” Wednesday emphasized, placing a hand on Enid’s trembling knee, “you are being dramatic. I have already said that I reciprocate your feelings towards me. These scenarios that you are imagining, they are just that; your imagination.”

“But I know you, Wednesday,” she continued to blubber. “You aren’t a romantic person, and that’s fine, because I would never ask you to change for me or for anybody, but I don’t want you to pretend you are just to shut me up.” 

Cold fingertips suddenly grazed the soft outline of Enid’s jaw, and Wednesday brazenly leaned in and pressed her lips to Enid’s. It wasn’t like the movies where a romantic ballad would play in the background, and it also wasn’t like the most anticipated scene in a sappy teen romance book that would be described as the most healing event that could ever happen to the main character, like it was a bandaid slapped over a gaping wound that needed stitches and could erase all the pain and grievances that had happened in the book up until then. 

It did change Wednesday and it did feel healing, but when she came to and pulled away from Enid, they were staring at each other with wide eyes. Enid’s cheeks were magenta and Wednesday’s lips were blue and they were both quiet. 

“Breathe, Wednesday,” Enid encouraged, trying to rub life into her by running a hand over her shoulder. “Exhale!”

Wednesday’s shoulders sagged as she sighed. It felt like releasing air out of a balloon. A sense of immediate relief washed over her, and she looked over at Enid with her owlish eyes.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she told Enid. 

“Yes you did,” Enid immediately replied. She was smiling like it was amusing. “It’s okay. I…I have thought about doing that for awhile. I just…well, I guess I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I wanted to. I’m not afraid of being queer or anything like that. I guess I was just afraid of what you would think if I told you. I know that you’re probably totally turned off of romance, and that’s totally valid, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that I love you so much.”

Wednesday was breathing only shallowly. She could feel her pulse slow as fast as it had quickened. It was almost painful, really, how vulnerable Enid was making her feel just by looking her in the face and admitting to her that she was, indeed, in love with her. Fortunately, Wednesday enjoyed pain. 

“Why?” Wednesday asked Enid, almost accusatory as she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you love me so much?”

Almost taken aback by the harshness in Wednesday’s voice, Enid flinched. 

“Because I can and I do,” she eventually said. “I thought a lot about what’s gonna happen to us when we leave here. We aren’t going to be here forever, you know. And when I think about leaving you, I feel so much different than when I think about leaving Yoko and Divina and all my friends here. Yeah, I love them and I’ll miss them so much, but when I think about you—which is, like, a fucking lot, by the way—and when I think about the fact that soon we’ll have to separate and be adults with adult jobs and adult lives, it makes me so sick to my stomach. It actually gives me a bad tummy ache.”

“Firstly, never say tummy ache again, ever, not once in your life,” Wednesday gently reprimanded. She turned to face Enid more fully. “Secondly…I suppose now is the time to confess to you that I’ve felt similarly. I often dream of escaping this place, even if it’s begun to grow on me like a malignant tumor, but with that comes the reminder that when I leave, so will you, and I can’t say that I’m at all thrilled about that. Once or twice have I laid awake at night, trying to imagine monsters and murders to lull myself to sleep, and thought of the day we depart here for good. It only increases the dread. And not the good kind of dread that excites me. The kind that feels like a rock in my stomach.” 

Enid noticeably perked up. “So you feel the same way?” 

Begrudgingly, Wednesday nodded, completely wordless as she pursed her too-blue lips. 

“I suppose I do,” she replied. “You don’t understand how difficult it is for me to admit it. I would rather have my tongue cut out of my mouth than admit to it. But I do reciprocate your feelings towards me.”

It was as if the ground was swallowing Wednesday whole. Enid sank into her, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling Wednesday into her chest. Wednesday was taken aback for a moment, but as she inhaled the soft, sweet scent of Enid, she laid her head on a strong shoulder and buried her nose in equally soft, sweet skin. 

Enid held Wednesday there, and Wednesday admittedly felt like a helpless little girl clinging to a lifeboat. Her hands held fistfuls of Enid’s clothes and she sought comfort in the sound of a steady heartbeat drumming under Enid’s breastbone. 

A soothing hand smoothed over Wednesday’s back as Enid drew away from Wednesday. Those big blue eyes were shining with overwhelming beauty, the color of a coastal sea. 

“I love you,” Enid murmured, cupping Wednesday’s cheek and running her thumb over the cold cheekbone. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t,” Wednesday promised, leaning into the warmth of Enid’s palm caressing her skin. “I don’t want you to be Mrs. Whoever after we graduate from Nevermore. I don’t want you to become a few happy birthday texts in the years leading up to you forgetting about me after you have some disgusting man’s children. Because you might have the capacity to forget me once you’re swept away by married life and children of your own, but I do not have the capacity to forget you.” 

Enid kissed her again, more firmly this time. Wednesday embraced it, feeling the stress of the weekend melt away at her feet. 

“I love you so much it actually hurts,” Enid lamented when she pulled away. She kept her hands on Wednesday’s waist, although tentatively, and offered a squeeze. “I’m just so relieved that I don’t have to marry a greasy werewolf man and pop out a bunch of babies like a Pez dispenser. I mean, if you want me to have your babies—“

Wednesday put a hand over Enid’s mouth. 

“The idea of anything coming out of your body screaming and immediately sucking my finances dry is terrifying,” she said to Enid as she lowered her hand. “And I do not have the…necessary parts to impregnate you myself.” She glanced suggestively into her lap and back up at Enid. 

“But magic,” Enid suggested.

They both hesitated a moment, recalling the absolute disaster that had been past couple of days in just a couple of seconds, and then Enid shook her head to dispel the thought of a conception spell going wrong and producing a monstrous creature.

“Actually, never mind,” she said. “I don’t wanna give birth to a two-headed alien or something. Just one head looks super painful to push out enough.” 

Wednesday smirked. “Good choice.” 

—

No one saw Divina for the next couple of days, but the next time Wednesday did see her, in the middle of the week, she was in her teenage form and Yoko had an arm wrapped around her shoulders as they exited first period together. 

“Mama! Mommy!” Divina called when she saw Enid and Wednesday hesitantly approaching her and Yoko, who glared precisely from behind her glasses. “I thought you abandoned me!”

“We were going to, but we decided that you being abandoned for another to raise for a second time wasn’t in good taste,” Wednesday remarked, clutching her textbooks tighter to her chest. “You seem well, all things considered.”

Divina shrugged. “Faye and her entourage of spell-casters brought me back a couple nights ago. She kept me in my dorm to monitor me, just to be sure I didn’t suffer any adverse effects from being a baby raised by two idiots who don’t know that babies cannot have cows milk until they’re a year old. I was fine after my stomach stopped gurgling and I threw up all over Yoko.” 

“Well, what was I meant to do?” Enid asked, rolling her eyes. “Put my boob in your mouth? These wells are dry! And it wasn’t like I was gonna ask Wednesday to use magic to put some milk in them! She can’t even time travel!” 

“No thanks,” Divina replied, scrunching her nose up. “I don’t think I’d ever recover if you’d done that.” 

Wednesday gave her a once-over. “Why are you walking with a limp?”

“I still have a bad diaper rash,” she said, shuffling on her feet. “Yoko’s been putting cream on it for me. It hurts like hell. Both of you fucking suck at taking care of babies.” 

“So you are still experiencing the effects of everything we did, despite the fact that the spell was reversed,” Wednesday surmised, noting the patch of yellow on Divina’s forehead where she had hit her head a few days before. “Very interesting.”

Yoko tugged Divina closer to her, letting a hand roam down her back and to her waist. She seemed quite miffed at Enid and Wednesday, but she had been communicating with Enid via text messages, expressing her disdain for Wednesday, to which Enid had responded by using emojis to conceal the fact that she had Wednesday’s saliva glossed over her lips. 

Enid didn’t know when the appropriate to tell Yoko and Divina that she was now dating Wednesday would be. The wound of Divina going missing was still fresh despite having been sutured by Faye and her gaggle of professional spell-casters, and she didn’t want to break the thin ice she was already walking on when Yoko was still so fragile and recovering from such an emotional ordeal. 

She wasn’t going to say anything just then, but then—

“Why is Wednesday standing so close to you?” Divina pointed out, gesturing to the way Wednesday’s shoulder brushed up against Enid’s and how there was not a single inch of light flitting between them. 

Suddenly conscious about her spatial awareness, Wednesday sidestepped away from Enid, but Enid absentmindedly followed and stuck herself to Wednesday’s side again like she was at risk of disintegrating. 

Yoko took off her sunglasses and glared a hole into Wednesday’s forehead. “What the fuck?”

No one said anything for what felt like ages. Glances were exchanged and Enid cleared her throat and Wednesday avoided making eye contact with anyone in fear of the guilt becoming obvious. 

“Holy shit,” Divina said, eyes wide. “You two are fuckin’!”

Wednesday scowled. “That’s no way for a Catholic to speak.”

“Oh please, like I’m so worried about my religion when I just found out that my two mommies are actually together!” Divina jumped up and down. “I have two sets of parents now!”

“Three,” Wednesday muttered to herself.  

Enid subtly threw an elbow into Wednesday’s side and hugged her books to her chest, blinking owlishly at Yoko. “I’ll totally text you later and tell you everything. But right now I am super late for class. So, yeah, I’ll see you later.”

If it weren’t for Wednesday’s disdain for public displays of affection, Enid would have kissed her cheek before leaving, but she settled for a soft smile as she awkwardly slipped through the gap between Yoko and Divina. 

Silently, Wednesday slithered past the couple, blindly following Enid, who was already climbing the stairs to her next class. Wednesday knew she should have been walking the opposite direction if she wanted to make it to second period, but her stomach hurt and she hated that stupid look on Divina’s face. 

“Wait!” Divina shouted, chasing after Wednesday. “Mama, Mommy, come back!”

—

Now that Divina was back to normal and life continued as usual, with some odd looks from the student body thrown her way when they remembered watching Faye tote the infant version of her through the halls, she was able to settle down with Yoko for the first evening since being back in her adolescent body. 

“My parents just went back home,” she told Yoko as she sat at the edge of Yoko’s bed, leaning into her. “Weems is so lucky they decided not to sue the school board.”

Yoko made a dissatisfied sound, wrapping an arm around Divina’s waist and letting her settle on her shoulder. Divina sighed in absolute content, finally able to satisfy her craving for romantic touch. 

“They should be suing that train wreck of an Addams for emotional distress. I heard from Enid that Weems gave Wednesday’s parents an earful about it and all they had to say for themselves is that they would call her on her crystal ball and scold her for being irresponsible with black magic. I don’t want scolding, I want ass-kicking!”

Divina nudged Yoko’s cheek with her nose. “It’s fine. I think having to take care of me was punishment enough. Though, I did hear from Enid that Weems gave them both a good old-fashioned punishment for it.” 

“The paddle?” Yoko’s eyebrow raised in alarm. “I thought that was done away with a long time ago.” 

“That’s what I assumed, too, but no,” she replied, giggling when Yoko’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. “They have to scrub the cafeteria floor after dinner every Friday and Saturday for the rest of the semester.” 

Yoko blew a raspberry, dismissing that with a wave of her hand. “That’s nothing.”

“With a toothbrush,” Divina completed, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh.” Yoko chuckled a bit. “That’s hilariously fucked-up.” 

“I know,” Divina laughed, leaning further into Yoko. “They’re gonna be there forever. Fortunately, they probably don’t mind being glued together, given the fact that they’re now swapping spit every day.” 

A look of despair crossed Yoko’s face. “I guess I’ll have to get used to the idea of them being together now that it’s blatantly obvious that they’re madly in love. Stupid kids and their puppy love.”

“They’re really not a bad couple if you watch them interact,” Divina said, shrugging nonchalantly. “They did a decent job taking care of baby me, especially when you consider the fact that Wednesday hates children and Enid often gets too distracted.”

Pulling away from Divina, Yoko gave her an incredulous look, brushing her fingers over the yellowing patch of skin on her forehead. 

“How do you know that they did a good job?” Yoko asked. “You have a gigantic bruise on your head, and you have a bleeding rash on your butt because they can’t change a diaper.”

“I said they did a decent job,” Divina corrected. She paused a moment, pursing her lips. “And…I can kinda remember some of the things that happened.”

Yoko raised an eyebrow. “But babies are incapable of recalling memories until they’re at least two or three. You were too young to remember any of that.”

“I know, which is why the whole thing is so strange,” she said. “I don’t remember a whole lot, but there were moments where I felt this overwhelming sense of clarity overcome me. Kind of like having a lucid dream that you can actually control. I was suddenly aware of my surroundings and could actually control my limbs and such, but I just couldn’t speak because, you know, baby. Like, I remember purposely hitting Enid and choking her with her own necklace because I wanted to. And I remember Wednesday scolding me because I looked ready to crawl and she didn’t want to get off her deadbeat daddy ass to chase me. It was like…teenage me was still inside my baby body. But it came in short intervals. Most of the time I didn’t have any control over things. Like when Enid changed me, I didn’t feel embarrassed like teenage me would have if I was conscious, but I was able to hit Enid with intention. It was all so weird.”

Yoko pressed a kiss to Divina’s temple, sighing into the smell of baby oil—as ironic as that seemed, anyway. They’d both been affectionate with each other as much as they could in the past few days, but Yoko could hardly get enough of holding Divina, often prodding and kissing her to ensure she was real and not a name on an Amber alert. 

“They make a great team,” Divina said as she withdrew from Yoko. “I mean, they’re not totally great at parenting, but their teamwork is the only reason I’m still alive. They’re both such simps for each other. When I was having a burst of consciousness, I noticed Wednesday staring wistfully at Enid like she was in an emo music video or something. And Enid—Enid is an idiot if she ever denies her love for Wednesday. She often got pissed that Wednesday was being a deadbeat after turning me into a baby, and would threaten to spill the beans, but those were all empty threats because she’s either scared of Wednesday or madly in love with her. She played housewife just to keep Wednesday quiet.”

“Happy wife, happy life,” Yoko chuckled. “I’m still trying to let it sink in that they’re, like, actually together. I guess I didn’t expect it. It’s like watching a train wreck; you can’t help but to stare and watch it burn.” 

“They’re not so bad behind closed doors,” Divina said, laughing to herself. “They already fight like a married couple. But Wednesday would do anything for Enid, and vice versa. I can’t remember a whole lot, but the parts I do remember, they were either having a lovers’ quarrel or Wednesday was flirting with Enid in her own weird, scary way. If I had the ability to speak, I would’ve told them to get naked.” 

Yoko stuck her tongue out. “Disgusting! If they’d had done that in front of you, that’s considered a crime.” 

“I just wanted them to stop fighting and admit that they’d be sad if the other died,” Divina said, shrugging. “I know Wednesday gets a lot of sideways looks, but she’s not all that bad. She actually held me a couple times. Enid forced her to, but it still counts. She smells like dead flowers and patchouli oil. She reminds me of my grandma who homesteads on her farm.” 

“So she’s one of those hippie people that rubs themselves down in essential oil to cure cancer,” Yoko surmised. “I figured she was unorthodox.”

“I don’t think so. She has a whole bottle of cyanide in her room. Maybe she does believe in natural remedies, but on the opposite end of the cuckoo spectrum,” Divina said. “Whatever she is, Enid loves her for it. She drools at the sight of Wednesday and her Pippi Longstocking braids.” 

Squeezing Divina’s waist and drawing her in close, Yoko visibly sagged into her. “I’m just glad that all this is over. You’re back to normal, I’m eating again, and Wednesday and Enid are probably engaging in some very inappropriate and fucked-up acts a few doors down.” 

“They’re so gonna get married,” Divina commented, leaning her head on Yoko’s shoulder. “We’ll be in the wedding, I’m sure.” 

“You think they’re gonna have kids for real?” Yoko asked, muscles tensing at the mere idea of a tiny Addams-Sinclair child toddling about and destroying everything in its path. 

Suddenly, Divina peeled herself from Yoko and reached into her backpack. She pulled out her spell book and held it firmly in her hands, her eyes gleaming with what Yoko knew to be mischief.

“Why don’t we find out?”