Chapter Text
It's dark when she wakes and she curses her mother for having pushed such a healthy sleep cycle on her. She'd only just gone to bed two hours ago, but of course nobody can fight Evanora Harkness’ rigid schedule and win. “Agatha! Come down please, I want to go over some things before tonight's get-together.” Speak of the devil. Agatha rolls her eyes, grabs one of the stray pillows surrounding her and plants it firmly over her face, taking in the few peaceful moments she has left before- “Agatha!!” the voice shouts again. Eugh. “Alright, alright…” she mutters, as she turns on her bedside lamp and immediately regrets doing so, getting absolutely blinded by the sudden brightness. Her head hurts. She puts on an oversized jumper and blue tracksuit pants and stumbles over shoes and clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty has graced us with her presence,” her mother says when Agatha enters the room, without ever taking her eyes off of the selection of tablecloths she has laid out on the living room table. “I need you to be on your best behaviour today, do you understa-” Evanora’s voice catches in her throat when she finally takes in the wreck of a girl standing infront of her. “Morning,” Agatha says, putting on an overexaggerated smile. She hadn't bothered looking in the mirror yet. Having become numb to Evanora’s scolding when she was a child, she now delights in stressing her mother out whenever she can.
Several variations of “Do you know how important these events are to me?!” and “Why can't you ever be grateful for all that I do for you?!” later, Agatha is back in her room debating whether blasting music from her speakers to annoy her mother is worth worsening her throbbing headache. Just the thought of today's events had led her to overdo the amount of alcohol she had drank at her classmates' party yesterday. She couldn't understand how her mother managed to be friends with so many boring old ladies and why, oh why, did they all have to bring their goody-two-shoes daughters with them.
Agatha groans when she thinks of last time, when all the girls kept going on about how they were saving themselves for marriage and all that bullshit. She glances up at the small collage of posters that she'd carefully hung over her bed, all pictures of powerful women like Stevie Nicks, Diana Ross, Lorna Wu and Madonna. She smirks. Maybe she does understand why they want to stay away from men for as long as possible. No hurt in making out with girls in the meantime though, right? Agatha kicks at a pile of clothes on the floor, revealing her favourite leather boots and puts them on. She reaches for her makeup bag and rids herself of yesterday's mascara-turned-racoon-eye shadow. Once she has applied new mascara and filled in her eyebrows, she smiles a tired smile at the mirror, grabs two cereal bars that she had stashed in a box and makes her way back down the stairs.
“Agatha dear, we talked about this yesterday, but are you really sure you want to bake those cupcakes? I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself again…”, Evanora looks at her with pity in her eyes. As if it was her fault that last month's batch had burnt to a crisp! She had followed the recipe step by step and had really enjoyed making something from scratch. She so rarely managed to create something beautiful. “I want to try again, it was fun”, she replies.
“You're going to have to buy the ingredients yourself though. I'm not letting you waste my money like that anymore,” is all her mother says before turning her attention back towards a carefully planned seating chart. Agatha rolls her eyes, she had expected this. She checks her tracksuit pockets for the ingredients list and her purse, grabs her coat and walks out into the cold morning air.
Once she’s out of the house, she can feel her entire body relax. The wind swirling around her head feels like an ice-bath in the best way possible. These September mornings, when the temperature starts dropping at night, make Agatha feel so cosy. As she walks toward the main road, the last rays of the sunrise reflect in a neighbours window and catch her eye. Oh, how she adores nature. She decides to take the long route, along the river. There is much time left.
She walks past several residential blocks when she hears a voice from behind one of the large fences. “Come on, spin! Oh, come on… Ahrg come back!” Curiosity gets the better of her, so Agatha walks towards the gate, pokes her head around the corner and suddenly stares right into the face of a young boy holding a small bunny. “Oh… hey,” she greets the boy awkwardly. “Hi…” he responds. Agatha notices the name on the doorbell. “Wait, are you Tom Kaplan’s brother?” she asks. “Uh, yeah. I'm Billy,” the maybe 12 year old boy replies, “Why do you know my brother?” “He's in some of my classes, History and Geography…” She pauses, “Who's this?” Agatha points at the bunny struggling in Billy's arms. “This is Señor Scratchy, I train him when I feed him breakfast. Do you wanna see?” Billy asks, grabbing some muesli out of his pocket. “Alright then, what can he do?” Agatha leans over the fence to get a better view, as Billy carefully sets Señor Scratchy onto the ground.
“Okay Scratchy, this is your big moment,” Billy walks back a couple steps,” Come boy!” And lo and behold, the bunny hops forward, stopping just an inch in front of Billy's beckoning hand. “Good boy!” Billy squeals and gives Scratchy the flakes of food. Agatha laughs. “This is what we're working on at the moment,” he says, and takes a step back, “Spin!” With a new handful of muesli, he waves his arm in a circle above Señor Scratchy's head. But the bunny doesn't seem to understand what Billy is asking him to do, he stands up on his hind legs and tries to reach for the food. “Maybe you have to say it in Spanish”, Agatha suggests. Billy rolls his eyes, but a smile creeps on his face. She continues, “No, but go slower. He doesn't know what you want him to do.” Billy repositions himself and moves his hand in a circular motion, slowly this time. “He's following your hand!” Agatha exclaims and when Billy opens his palm, Scratchy excitedly munches on his treats. “Look at you Scratchy, you can do anything!” Billy says as he picks the bunny up,“ Do you want to hold him?” “Sure”, Agatha grins and readjusts her stance, so she isn't leaning quite so far over the fence. The bunny is soft in her arms and she can't help but squeeze it against her face. “You are so cute, so cute…” she murmurs. Billy giggles.
The sound of crunching gravel turns their attention to the side of the house, where Tom appears, “Breakfast is ready, Billy. Oh… hi Agatha?” “Hey, I was just passing by,” she replies, stifling a yawn. She passes Señor Scratchy back to Billy. “I only slept for three hours,” Tom says, grimacing. “No rest for the wicked,” Agatha smirks. “When'd you get home? You seemed quite drunk yesterday,” Tom says and Billy laughs. Agatha looks at them with slight annoyance. She isn't close with Tom, or any of her classmates for that matter. It's not that she necessarily dislikes them, she just finds them to be quite dull. Sure, she gets drunk and makes out with these people, but they're still no more than mere acquaintances. Who is Tom to comment on her life? Stop, you're being dramatic. “Yeah, we're having some people over…” Agatha sighs. “Oh no, poor Agatha has to be nice,” Tom teases. Agatha glares at him. “It's not that I don't like people, I just don't like boring people,” she huffs and steps away from the fence. Billy looks at his brother, confused. “Jeez, alright. Well, we'd better go have breakfast now. See ya,” Tom grabs Billy's shoulder and leads him towards the house. “Bye Agatha,” the younger boy calls out. “Bye guys…” she sighs. No. She doesn't care. She truly does not give a fuck about what people think of her. Not one bit.
Agatha continues walking down the block, along the road that leads to the forest which surrounds the town. After all this talk of breakfast, she suddenly realises that she's starving, so she grabs one of the cereal bars from her pocket and eats it in two bites. The sun has fully risen and the light dances on the yellowing maple leaves that make up the edge of the forest, giving them a subtle glow. She leaves the aptly named Shimmer Road behind and makes her way down the less inventive New Lane, the main path through the forest. Agatha has explored nearly every part of these woods, they're her safe space. She decides to take the less open route, through the thicket. Robins flutter in the bushes and she can hear mallards squawking overhead.
She makes her way down to the river bank and nearly trips over some loose stones. “Focus,” she tells herself. The river bank is overgrown with soft grass, slippery with dew. Agatha steps over roots, rocks and heaps of feathers as small waves splash against her shoes. She enjoys the way her boots leave light imprints on the ground. She finally decides to settle on some rocks near an oak tree and opens the other cereal bar. She eats it slowly, taking in her surroundings, and notices ants crawling over a dead tree stump. She decides to give them a few crumbs. The ants quickly sense the delicious treat and carry it off to their nest. Agatha marvels at their sense of self. Their only purpose is to provide, none of the fellow ants interfere with their work.
She catches the faint sound of voices making their way towards her. Agatha scrambles up the oak tree, not wanting to have to interact with anyone, even if it's unlikely they'd be walking along the river bank. It's easy climbing, there's lots of big branches to help her. As she reaches the middle of the tree, she slows and finally stops at about 30 feet above ground. Agatha can see the group of people, they seem to be a group of runners walking back after their morning exercise. She waits for them to pass by, then readjusts herself so that she can look out onto the river. The sudden exhaustion of having climbed so far up, paired with the gentle sounds of the river, leave her utterly peaceful, eyes nearly falling shut. She lets them.
When she opens her eyes again, she sees a figure move along the opposite river bank. Agatha moves to a different branch, to get a better view. It's a girl wearing a dark sage green jumpsuit over a white long-sleeved shirt and a black scarf. A pair of ducks make their way towards the girls’ side of the bank and she freezes as they waddle past her. She watches them shake out their wings and huddle up under a bush.
Agatha studies the girl intently, trying to make out her features. She's too far away to be sure, but she guesses, maybe even wishes, for her to be of Agatha’s own age. The girl makes her way downstream, to where a bunch of purple asters grow. She crouches down, letting her hand glide through the water. The autumn air has caused the temperature of the river to drop quite a bit, Agatha knows, but still the girl doesn't flinch away. Her eyes follow the girl as she walks along the river, until she's out of sight and then some. I should probably keep going too, Agatha thinks to herself and makes her way down the tree.