Archive of Our Own

PROPOSAL:

The school Newsroom is cold, cramped and smells faintly of printer ink.

Enid practically lives there when classes end.

She loves writing for the Jericho Chronicles for many reasons:

Reason 1: All her best friends are involved in it—Yoko’s also a writer, Divina’s a photographer and Ajax is their heaven sent tech guy who always fixes the printer.

Reason 2: Enid was appointed Editor-in-Chief at the beginning of her Senior Year, which is gonna look amazing on her college applications.

Reason 3: People in Jericho respect it and read it to be informed about the town’s news.

Reason 4: She loves being involved in every social event in town, even if it’s only to report it.

Reason 5: It’s a space where she can be creative and express herself in a way that is meaningful.

Reason 6: Her parents hate it and think it’s a waste of time that she should be using to prepare to take over Wolfpack Athletics, their chain of fitness gyms.

Reason 7: She gets to hear all the gossip first.

But sometimes she forgets she is not the boss, boss, and that there’s still someone who has the final say.

“What do you mean ‘a profile’?” Enid asks, sitting in front of Weems’ desk.

The English teacher, who also happens to be their Faculty Advisor for the newspaper (and the Principal! What can’t this woman do?), looks at her like she’s dumb.

“I mean a profile, Miss Sinclair. I know you didn’t get to be Editor-in-Chief without knowing what a profile is.”

“But—why?”

“Because,” Weems says, straightening the lapel of her gray blazer. “You said you wanted to be noticed by colleges, and I know for a fact that word of this case has reached my old colleagues at NYU.”

“But—why does it have to be Wednesday?”

“She’s the one who solved the Gates Case, is she not?”

“The police solved it.”

“Without her help, they would still be chasing their tails and our school’s reputation would’ve taken a much stronger hit.”

Enid rolls her eyes. She doubts this girl was as crucial to the investigation as Weems is trying to make it seem.

There’s been rumors, of course. Wildly spread and varied rumors about the events that transpired last year.

Things like Laurel hypnotizing Tyler through the intercom system, to the murders having been planned for decades, to Wednesday having a whirlwind romance with Tyler while this was happening.

Crazy things.

The kind of things that the student body at Jericho High School makes up when they’re bored.

But Wednesday couldn’t have done all the things that Enid’s heard about.

They don’t live in a noir thriller movie, come on.

This whole idea seems like a waste of her time, so Enid changes tactics.

“She’s not gonna want to talk to me.”

“And why might that be?”

“She just—she doesn’t like me.” Enid can’t help but pout a little.

Two years ago, when Wednesday Addams transferred to their school, Enid had tried.

She ignored the rumors about her trying to unalive the water polo team at Nancy Reagan High School.

She ignored the way people started whispering about her being a psychopath and her family being freaks.

She even ignored her deadly stares and cold demeanor, clear warning signs that she didn’t want to be approached or make friends.

And what did she get in return?

I don’t need friends, and even if I did, it would certainly not be someone who looks like they were assaulted by a rainbow.

Enid had thought she looked super cute in her pink skirt and pink, white and yellow sweater. But apparently she was the antithesis of everything Wednesday Addams stood for, so she had walked off offended and never tried again.

Through the years, Enid had watched her from afar.

Yoko likes to tease her that she’s obsessed with the goth, the only person who has rejected Enid’s friendship since she had wobbled up to Yoko at the park when they were 5 and asked her if she wanted to play wolves.

But it’s not that.

Enid’s fascinated by her.

She has virtually no friends, except maybe a tenuous friendship with Eugene Ottinger, a quiet kid from the Environmental Club, and a friendly rivalry with Bianca Barclay of all people, Jericho High’s queen bee and captain of the swim team.

She’s always quiet, but alert. Always watching the world with critical eyes; analyzing, judging.

Her grades are exceptional and she has the most interesting and wild takes about the books they read for English class.

She’s always cold and cutting in her responses, but she’s never cruel on purpose. And despite her dislike of absolutely everyone and everything, she’s never been a bully.

In fact, last year Enid heard that she threatened a group of jocks that were bullying Eugene.

Her clothes are really cool and fashionable, but consistently and strictly black and white.

She has a younger brother, Pugsley, who’s actually a sweet kid and Enid’s seen them talk in the hallway a lot. He seems to idolize her.

Enid hasn’t tried to approach her since that day two years ago. But Wednesday hasn’t given her any indications that she’d be open to friendship either.

Sure she catches Wednesday watching her some times. But Enid guesses she’s judging her clothes, or her hair, or her loud group of friends.

Her face is always impassive, never welcoming or open.

And, sure, Enid will admit it, she also happens to be very pretty.

With her brown doe eyes and her thick lashes. Her high cheekbones and her smattering of freckles. Her cute braids and her full lips.

She’s like, objectively pretty.

Whatever. Enid’s not blind.

She’s also really gay.

Bi, but like. Girls, ya know?

Getting off track.

“Miss Sinclair?”

Enid blinks. “Huh? What?”

“I said that it’s not optional, for either of you. She will be informed as well.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I want a profile on Wednesday Addams written by you and published by the Jericho Chronicles by the end of the semester.” Weems gestures dismissively.

The meeting is over.

“You can return to class now.”

Enid leaves the office with no idea what she’s gotten herself into.

SUBJECT:

File Name: Wednesday Friday Addams
Age: 17
Year: Senior
Student ID: 0413-57
Academic Standing: Excellent
Extracurriculars: Fencing
Disciplinary Notes: Numerous, but inaccessible
Teacher’s Comment: Highly intelligent and uncooperative in group settings. Unsettling presence in the classroom.

Enid looks at the scant notes that she has gathered, mostly from what the secretary has let her glimpse in Wednesday’s file.

This is nowhere close to enough to start a profile.

If she wants to take this seriously—which, let's be honest, she kind of has to, there’s no other choice—she needs to go to the source.

She catches her leaving the gymnasium.

Wednesday’s wearing all black fencing gear, her helmet held underneath her arm. Her bangs are mussed and her forehead glistens in sweat, like she took it off recently.

She actually looks kinda cool.

Badass.

Not that Enid’s gonna tell her that.

“Hey, hi!” She calls, stopping Wednesday in her tracks. “My name’s Enid Sinclair, I’m the Editor-in-Chief of the Jericho Chro—“

“I know who you are.”

“Right… has Weems talked to you?”

Wednesday watches her from under her bangs, unreadable expression on her face.

“I’m supposed to do a profile on you?” Enid tries. “Because of the Gates Case.”

“I already informed her that I’m not interested in having my life documented for public consumption.”

“No, yeah, I hear you, but—“ Wednesday turns to leave and Enid rushes to follow. “We kinda have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not for me. I need this profile to be noticed by the colleges I’m applying to.”

“Unfortunate for you.”

“Wednesday,” Enid sighs, taking the other girl by the elbow to stop her.

Wednesday turns slowly with a deadly glare pointed at Enid’s hand.

Enid lets her go immediately.

“Look, I know you hate me. But Weems said it’s mandatory for you too.”

“I don’t hate you.” Wednesday says. “Hate requires a strong emotion, which you don’t inspire. I only feel indifference towards you.”

Okay, that one stings.

Enid huffs. “Whatever, I don’t like this idea either, okay? But the faster we get through it, the faster we can both move on.”

Wednesday stares into her eyes for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Addams!” A voice calls out from the gymnasium door.

Bianca Barclay walks up to them wearing a white fencing uniform.

“You ran off like the devil was on your heels,” she teases.

“Places to be,” Wednesday replies.

Bianca glances between them like she’s trying to figure out why they’re talking.

“Hey, Enid.”

The school’s most popular girl turns her light green eyes to Enid and she feels her palms sweat slightly.

It’s not like she’s a loser or anything. Definitely has some pull in certain groups. She’s dated some really cool people too. But she’s also never been invited to Bianca’s parties.

So, that kind of in-between, really.

It also just so happens that one of her exes, Ajax, is now Bianca’s boyfriend.

Very recent, to be fair! Enid hasn’t had time to test the waters yet.

In any case, she really doesn’t want any trouble with Queen B.

“Hi, B. I mean, Bianca. Sorry. Ajax calls you B.”

Wow.

Amazing start Enid.

Not only is she overly familiar with her in their, maybe, third interaction ever, but she also mentions the ex in the same sentence.

Just, bravo.

Bianca for her part, just chuckles. “B’s fine. Everything alright at the Chronicles?”

“Oh yeah.” Enid smiles, overenthusiastic. “Printer’s in top shape.”

Bianca blinks in confusion. “Glad to hear.” She turns to Wednesday. “Coach wanted me to tell you that next class is cancelled, he has an appointment.”

“A shame.”

“Right. So I wanted to propose a friendly bout. Maybe you can make up for your loss today.”

Wednesday quickly glances at Enid before looking back to Bianca.

“You got lucky,” she grits between her teeth.

“Prove it. Next Tuesday. Same time?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good. Later Sinclair.”

“Bye, B!”

As soon as Bianca’s out of earshot, Wednesday turns a cocked eyebrow at her.

“Do you always get so flustered around popular girls?”

“No.” She’s blushing, she can feel it.

“Or is it because she’s pretty?”

“How is this relevant at all?”

Wednesday stares.

“I’ll do the profile.”

“Wait, really?”

“Weems said she’ll clean my Disciplinary File if I do this, and I would like to get accepted into a reputable college as well.”

“That’s what she has on you?”

“She’s a wretched woman,” she says in a deadpan.

“So… we’re doing this?”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” Wednesday starts to walk away again. “Maybe you can write that in your profile.”

“Wait! When can we talk?”

“I’m sure you’ll find me with your investigative skills.”

LEAD:

Last year, Wednesday Addams was the most talked-about student at Jericho High. Yet, as she sits in front of me, still as a statue, I realize that she hates being perceived.

“This is just for general introductory stuff,” Enid explains.

A cold October breeze blows through the trees and Enid wishes she’d brought a coat to school today, or maybe not worn a skirt, as cute as her salmon tights are.

She zips up her purple sweatshirt, noting Wednesday doesn’t seem bothered by the cold in the slightest.

Somehow, not surprising.

She flips pages in her sticker-stamped notebook.

Wednesday eyes it like it’s radioactive.

“Alright so, on the record. You transferred here from Nancy Reagan High because of an incident, can you tell me about that?”

Wednesday sits with her back straight, wearing a puffy black vest over a striped sweater and cargo pants.

They’re outside in the courtyard where Enid did find her with her investigative skills.

Okay, well, Yoko mentioned she was eating out here alone.

Whatever, Yoko was her source.

She’s a journalist.

“The water polo team bullied my brother Pugsley. I threw piranhas in the pool while they trained.”

Enid gapes at her.

“Shouldn’t you know this already?” Wednesday raises a challenging eyebrow.

“I couldn’t access your Disciplinary File,” Enid defends herself. “And I didn’t want to believe the gossip.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

Enid squints. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You deal in gossip as if it were currency and your newspaper certainly seems to take it as a legitimate source of information.”

“That’s so not true. We verify everything we publish,” Enid argues, fuming.

“You published a column that accused me of having a love affair with a murderer.”

Wednesday’s got her there, they did do that last year.

“Okay, that—that wasn’t cool. But I wasn’t the Editor-in-Chief then.”

“It was still a complete fabrication,” Wednesday hisses.

“Hey, I tried to stop it! I told them we had no proof, and that it was pure gossip. But they didn’t listen.”

“And you still want me to believe in the integrity of your paper.”

“Okay, how about—let’s clear the air then, huh? Tell me about Tyler.”

“No.”

“Wednesday—“

“No.”

“How is this going to work if you don’t cooperate?!” Enid asks exasperated.

A group of freshmen turn their heads at them from a nearby table. Enid lowers her voice.

“At some point we need to go over all of that, because the angle of this profile is going to be how you helped the police uncover Laurel Gates’ conspiracy and Tyler’s murders.”

“I didn’t help the police.”

“Huh?”

“I did their job.”

Enid rolls her eyes. “Right.”

Wednesdays squints. “You don’t believe me.”

“Look, I’ve heard some stuff and I’m sure you helped a lot but—“

Wednesday gets up and leaves.

“Wait! Hold on! What—“ Enid scrambles to follow.

“I’m not in the business of proving myself to anyone,” Wednesday says when Enid catches up. “So if you’re not going to believe me, I suggest you find another subject.”

Enid blocks her path. Wednesday stops short, very close to Enid.

Way too close.

She can smell her perfume, something musky and herbal like sandalwood.

Enid takes a step back.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was super unprofessional of me,” Enid admits. She takes a deep breath. “Give me another chance. I promise I’ll listen to everything you have to say and I’ll stay fair and objective.”

Famous last words, Enid Sinclair. You will remember them and laugh.

Wednesday considers her. She must see something in Enid's eyes because she softens ever so slightly.

“I don’t lie.”

“Okay, I won’t lie either. Just—honesty all around moving forward.”

“Last chance.”

Enid grins. “Yes, thank you.”

“Follow me.”

Wednesday takes her to a music room. There are several instruments around, a piano, a drum set.

Wednesday takes off her backpack and starts looking through some sheet music.

“You have 15 minutes until my practice starts.”

Enid sits sideways at the piano.

“What do you play?”

“The cello.”

“That’s really cool. I didn’t know that.”

“I doubt you know anything about me that is actually true.”

Enid frowns. “What do you mean?”

“The people in this town are obsessed with villainizing me and my family.”

Enid knows what she means. Her mother’s been the number one promoter of this movement.

“Tell me about them.”

Wednesday glances at her out of the corner of her eye. She moves to the piano and places the sheet music on top of the lid.

“My father, Gomez, likes to build train models to make them crash. My mother, Morticia, has a special interest in botany, particularly poisonous flowers.”

Enid listens with great curiosity.

“My uncle Fester has had several lobotomies but is still as sharp as he ever was and my brother Pugsley is a weak, sentimental kid, who was bullied at his last school. And like I explained to the water polo team: I’m the only one that gets to torment him.”

The corner of Enid’s smile quirks up at that.

“There are other members and they’re all equally strange and eccentric. But we are not freaks. And we are not evil.”

“They sound really fun.”

Wednesday looks at her then, her eyes piercing and analyzing, like she’s gauging if Enid is being sincere.

She seems satisfied with what she finds.

Enid points at the sheet music, “So, how long have you been playing?”

“Since I was 6.”

“Are you any good?” Enid asks with a little head tilt and a smirk.

“I’m exceptional.”

“Okay, wow, someone’s confident,” Enid teases.

“If you’re baiting me to perform for you, I told you I’m not in the business of proving myself to anyone.”

Enid sighs. “Shame.”

There’s a moment of silence filled only by the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Although,” Enid drawls playfully, “it’s almost 16:00 which I’m guessing is your practice time. And you’re here. And I’m here. And this room is free to use for any student. And I’m—“

“Enough.” Wednesday snaps. “You made your point.”

Wednesday sits and positions the cello between her legs.

Enid watches fascinated as Wednesday plays some practice scales before she positions the bow, takes a deep breath and starts an insane rendition of Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones, which Enid only recognizes because her dad is a classic rock type of guy.

Enid’s mouth slowly falls open.

Wednesday playing is mesmerizing to watch. Her body moves with the tempo of the song and her fingers dance across the strings like it’s effortless.

Her brow is furrowed in concentration, but Enid can tell she could probably play this in her sleep.

The performance ends and Wednesday looks up at her with the cello still between her legs.

Her combat boots planted firmly on the floor.

Her fingers still wrapped around the neck.

Her jaw clenching and unclenching.

Enid feels a certain type of way.

“That was alright,” she says, trying to sound casual.

“I thought we agreed on no lies.”

Enid rolls her eyes, blushing slightly at being called out.

“Fine, you’re freaking amazing. Did I stroke your ego sufficiently?"

Wednesday goes to stand next to the piano again.

“No need. Facts are facts. You should know, you’re a journalist.”

“You’re a little insufferable, you know?”

“Are you going to write that on your notes?” She points at Enid’s notebook with her chin.

“No,” she replies haughtily. “Just a personal observation.”

Enid swears she sees the hint of a smirk on Wednesday’s face.

Which is unheard of.

Fuck.

No one’s going to believe her.

“Do you play any instruments?” Wednesday asks.

“Oh, no. I have zero musical talent.”

“Any other talents apart from being persistently inquisitive?”

“Har-har, very funny.” Enid thinks about it for a second. “I’m pretty athletic.”

Wednesday gives her a once over, from her colorful hair clips, to her rainbow painted nails, down to her orange plaid skirt.

It makes Enid a little nervous.

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to judge a book by its cover,” Enid challenges.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I’ve actually seen you dance. I know you’re athletic.”

Enid’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“You have? Wait, when?”

Wednesday pivots unsubtly. “And your parents own a chain of gyms. You’re not the only one with investigative skills.”

“You’ve looked me up?”

“I didn’t have to.”

Enid tries to get her thoughts in order.

Has Wednesday been keeping tabs on her? Why does she know these things? The last time she danced in public was in her Sophomore Year’s talent show. Was Wednesday paying attention to her back then?

“Are the Sinclairs as overbearing as the grapevine has painted them to be?” Wednesday cuts off her train of thought.

Enid scoffs. “Uh, yeah. They sure are.”

Wait.

Pause.

What is going on right now?

How did she get so sidetracked?

“Hold on, that’s not how this works. You don’t ask me questions.”

“I see. So transparency is a one-sided arrangement for you.”

“I’m writing the profile.”

“So I can’t learn things about you?”

“Why would you want to get to know me? I thought you were indifferent.”

That’s a check.

It’s written all over Wednesday’s face.

But she bounces back.

“I believe it’s beneficial for a journalist to establish rapport with their subject. That requires reciprocity.”

Check to Enid.

Enid smiles cheekily. “Careful. That almost sounded like you’re curious.”

Check.

Wednesday’s eyes darken. She picks up her sheet music and backpack, ready to leave.

“Do not mistake tolerance for interest, Enid Sinclair,” she says by the door. “I will see you for my next interrogation.”

Aaaand that’d be a check mate.

NUT GRAPH:

Wednesday Addams is the central figure in last year’s Gates case, the incident surrounding Jericho High School’s Biology teacher Laurel Gates (alias Marilyn Thornhill), who manipulated the student Tyler Galpin into killing her former school bullies.

This profile aims to examine her role during the investigation, her brush with death at the hands of Sheriff Galpin’s son and paint a clearer picture of the silent heroine that stopped what would’ve been a murder spree never before seen in Jericho’s history.

“Delete that.”

“Jesus fuck, Wednesday!” Enid exclaims, a hand on her chest. “Wear a bell or something.”

Wednesday taps Enid’s laptop screen, right over the words ‘silent heroine’.

“Delete it.”

“Wha—stop peeking at my work.”

Enid slams the laptop shut.

She’s in a corner of the library, where she figured she’d have some time alone to put her initial thoughts together.

Apparently not.

Wednesday’s as sneaky as she is pretty.

Wait, what?

“I want to review what you write about me.”

“Doesn’t work like that. The ground rules are: I introduce myself as a journalist, I say we’re on the record and then anything you say I can add to the story.”

“I know how it works, Enid. Like I said, you’re not the only one who has investigative skills.”

“Right. You seem to be more hands on in your sleuthing, though.”

“Someone has to be willing to enter the wolf’s den.”

“You know, I hate that saying. Wolves are pretty chill.”

Wednesday eyes Enid’s notebook stickers. There’s one of a wolf howling at the full moon that reads ‘Bark Side of the Moon’. There’s another on her laptop of a cutesy wolf-girl in a skirt. There’s a small grey wolf plushie keychain on Enid’s pink backpack.

There’s horse girls and then there’s whatever Enid is.

“Right.”

“Anyway,” Enid continues. “If you want anything off the record just say: off the record.”

Wednesday nods once. “Very well.”

She sits in front of Enid and clasps her hands.

Enid blinks. “Oh, right now? Sure. Um, let me get my notes.”

The whole table has been monopolized already by Enid, so she just has to look through her stuff to find the napkin that she filled during lunch.

“A napkin?”

“When inspiration strikes, you know?”

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“So I’m working on the nut graph at the moment, which is like, a short paragraph that explains the main point of a story or a profile and why it matters.”

“I know what a nut graph is.”

Enid blinks at her. “Why aren’t you involved in the paper?”

“Is this on the record?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Very well, off the record: in all the years I’ve been here, the Jericho Chronicles has been too timid to write the truth, too indulgent in gossip, and entirely without direction or journalistic discipline. Also, I loathe social clubs.”

“I wonder why…” Enid whispers to herself.

“However,” Wednesday continues. Enid catches a hesitant look on her face. It only lasts a second, but she sees it. “I might’ve reconsidered joining if it had changed directions.”

“Well, you haven’t met the Chronicles with me in charge!” Enid grins.

“Jury’s still out.”

Enid chuckles.

“Okay, back on the record.” Enid checks her napkin. “Let’s start at the beginning; tell me how you first realized there was something wrong about Tyler.”

“He approached me.”

“Wait, hold on, do you mind if I audio record with my phone? This might be a lot for me to write down.”

Wednesday nods her consent. Enid presses record.

“Okay, you were saying.”

“He approached me.”

Enid waits.

“Oh, that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“You noticed something was wrong… because he approached you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s—why would that raise alarms?”

“No one approaches me.”

“I approached you!”

As soon as the words are out of Enid’s mouth, she wants to swallow them back.

And they’re recorded too!

Delightful.

“Yes, and I thought there was something wrong with you then, as well.”

“That’s dumb.” Enid shakes her head, incredulous. “Just—why?”

“I’m not an approachable person. I don’t want to be. I don’t particularly enjoy people and I don’t hide that fact. There must be something wrong with someone if they see these glaring signs and still try to befriend me.”

Enid’s at a loss for words.

Wednesday continues. “Let’s consider your line of questioning. Why did you approach me, then?”

There goes Wednesday Addams, turning the interrogat—the interview on Enid again.

“Because…” Enid feels a flush spread on her cheeks and down her neck. “Honestly, I just thought you looked really cool and you were the new girl and I thought you might be lonely, so I wanted to be your friend.”

“I’m never lonely. I enjoy solitude.”

“Right, well. I got the message loud and clear when you rejected me.”

Wednesday frowns.

“Was I that harsh?”

“You basically told me to fuck off and made fun of my clothes.”

Wednesday glances down at Enid’s clothes, then away into the hallway.

It’s the closest Enid’s ever gotten to seeing her apologetic.

“The circumstances of these past few years have changed me. I am more… accommodating of social interaction now,” Wednesday says.

“Is that your way of apologizing?”

Wednesday snaps her eyes back to her.

“It certainly isn’t.”

“Okay… so, if I asked to be your friend now, would I get the same answer?”

“Why would you want to?”

“Same reasons.”

“I’m not the new girl and you know I don’t care about being lonely.”

Enid blushes. She can tell where this is going.

“Mhmm.”

“So, you want to be my friend just because you think I ‘look really cool’?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“How would you put it?”

Enid feels a little cornered, not gonna lie.

“I just think you’re interesting and like, effortlessly cool.”

That’s good, you can stop there.

“And like, you’re talented and really smart.”

Okay, not too bad. Perfect place to stop.

“And it’s actually been kinda fun getting to know you.”

Okay that’s—stop it.

“And like, you’re nice to look at.”

Oh my sweet Jesus, Enid.

“From a journalistic standpoint! Like you’re aesthetically interesting. Because of the whole goth thing.”

Okay you kinda fixed it, now, shut the fuck up.

“I’ve never had a friend like you.”

You know what? You’re on your own here.

“So… Would you want to? Be my friend?”

Wednesday watches her for a few long moments.

The Voice Memos app on her phone records their silence, the line of the soundwaves dead as the seconds tick.

If it was sensitive enough to record Enid’s heart, that soundwave would be jumping.

“Very well. But I will not be held responsible for your disappointment later.”

Enid rolls her eyes.

“I think I know what I’m getting into.”

What did we say about famous last words?

“Shall we get back to Tyler?”

“Yes, right!” Enid goes back to her notes. “So he approached you and you thought that was weird.”

Wednesday and Enid talk for about two more hours.

The story is pretty straightforward:

Tyler came up to her claiming he liked her.

She refused him.

He insisted.

She finally gave in to his cute, nerdy, slightly awkward charms.

(Enid writes: her type? in a margin of her notes.)

She kissed him.

(Enid writes: probably straight :( in another margin, then strikes it out immediately.)

And soon after that, she found out he had killed Valerie Kinbott, Jericho High’s 1992 Prom Queen and main bully of Laurel Gates when they were teenagers.

The mystery became more complicated after that.

Wednesday continued meeting with Tyler to gain information from him, despite the fact that she had completely cut ties with him emotionally.

And even though she rejected any new romantic advances, that’s where the nasty rumor about her love affair with a murderer started.

She later found him in a fit of rage, spewing hate about ‘women like Wednesday, who didn’t realize he was a nice guy’ but also ‘popular kids in high school who thought they could do whatever with no consequences’.

Wednesday found out that Tyler had never been bullied in high school, and that’s how she figured out someone was brainwashing him and using him as a weapon.

And then she did some digging through the school’s old records, yearbooks and video tapes, and it became obvious that every murder victim had been one of Laurel Gates bullies.

And sure, Marilyn Thornhill had dyed her hair and put on some fake glasses, but Wednesday was smarter than that.

Problem had been that, as she got closer, Laurel realized she was onto her, and sicced her attack dog on her. Which he was all too glad to do, as he believed Wednesday owed him something and saw her rejection as betrayal.

Thankfully, Wednesday was resourceful, quick on her feet and proficient with a blade.

“You fought him with a sword?!” Enid asks.

“Yes, in the cafeteria.”

“When was this? Why don’t people know this?”

“It was after hours, no one was around.”

“Is that why they closed the school for two days?”

“Yes, to clean the blood and fix the doors he broke.”

“Blood?!”

“His.”

Enid’s relieved that she decided to record this conversation because she hasn’t written a single word for an hour.

She’s been so entranced by the story, so shocked, and frankly… so impressed.

“Holy shit balls.”

Wednesday cocks an eyebrow, amused.

Enid gets her second blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk from her.

She should start keeping a tally.

“Wednesday, that’s so impressive. You’re amazing.”

“I’m aware.”

“No, but like, everyone knows you had something to do with this, but why aren’t all these details out there?”

“You remember who Tyler’s father is, correct?”

“Ohhh.”

“Yes, Sheriff Galpin suspected his son was involved somehow and tried to protect him anyway. It would’ve been a huge scandal for the Sheriff’s Department so they took my investigation as theirs, sent Tyler to a Psychiatric Facility quietly and appointed a new Sheriff.”

“That is so fucked up.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

“I don’t care about recognition. I don’t need an award. I just did it so there’d be justice.”

Enid does write that down, and next to it she scribbles do NOT delete the word heroine from nut graph.

“Okay, phew, what a productive afternoon!” Enid exclaims.

She stands to stretch her back, and her flower-patterned crop top rides up on her stomach.

When she looks down, Wednesday snaps her eyes away, a subtle blush covering her cheekbones.

Oh.

Interesting.

She’s tempted to go back to her notes and amend that comment about her sexuality, but it’s just a look.

Could mean anything.

And Enid has pretty great abs.

“So for the next part of the profile, I need to know more about your home life, your fam… you know, where you come from and stuff.”

“I would be amenable if you wanted to do that part at my house, during the weekend.”

“OMG, you’re inviting me to your place?” Enid asks, eyes wide as saucers.

“Is that not what friends typically do?”

Holy shit.

They really are friends.

Enid Sinclair is friends with Wednesday Addams.

“Yes, it totally is.”

BACKGROUND:

People always assume my family made me strange, but they didn’t. They just never forced me to be palatable. In my family, the unusual is expected and the macabre is celebrated. It makes most social norms feel… performative.”

“Howdy, friend!” Enid says as soon as Wednesday opens the door.

“Enid.” Wednesday replies in greeting.

“Sorry I’m late, it took me a while to find your house.”

“Did you drive here?”

“No, biked.” Enid points at her hot pink bike, parked in the Addams driveway between a vintage black Benz and what looks like a funerary car.

It looks… ridiculous.

“Right.” Wednesday moves aside to let her in.

The house is huge.

Just the foyer is bigger than Enid’s room.

Oh, so the Addams are loaded.

Noted.

“Do you need to see the house for your profile or shall we go directly to my room?”

Enid gets a nervous little tingle in her stomach at her wording.

Get it together, Sinclair.

“I’d like to see whatever you want to show me.”

Wednesday nods, her eyes relaxed. She gestures at Enid to follow.

On the first floor, Wednesday shows her the living room with its many and eclectic decorations, and the kitchen, where she briefly meets the Addams butler, Lurch, who only speaks in grunts.

Next comes the mansion grounds and the graveyard, where all the Addams are buried. It has beautiful, gothic crypts and mausoleums.

Enid tells Wednesday as much.

Wednesday responds with a little smirk.

That makes it three. |||

In the greenhouse, they meet Morticia Addams, Wednesday’s mom. She’s a gorgeous woman, with raven hair and an hourglass figure, dressed in an elegant long gown.

Gosh, are all the Addams women going to be beautiful?

Not that Wednesday is—well, no, she is.

Of course she is.

But Enid didn’t mean it like—

Also a lie. She did mean it like.

So, what? She thinks Wednesday Addams is very attractive. We’ve established this.

“Hello, my little scorpion,” Morticia greets. “And who might this be?”

“Mother, this is Enid.”

Enid thrusts her hand out nervously towards the woman. For some reason, she wants to make a good impression.

“Hi! Super nice to meet you.”

Morticia shakes her hand slowly, twisting her wrist slightly to check her rainbow-painted nails. She looks her up and down, from her patch covered jeans to her paint-splattered pattern shirt and pink backpack.

She gives Wednesday a look.

“Enid’s my friend,” is all Wednesday says by way of explanation.

And oh boy, does the casual way Wednesday puts that word out there do wonders for Enid’s heart.

“Well, I must admit we’ve never had so much color in the house before.” Morticia seems confused and like her sensibilities have been offended slightly.

Enid did notice almost everything in the house is in shades of black and white.

But she does catch a glimpse of red at the fold of fabric on Morticia’s dress.

So, that’s something?

To her credit, Morticia recovers quickly,

“But we haven’t had any of Wednesday’s friends either,” she says with a smile. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Enid?”

“Oh, I…” she looks at Wednesday, who just stares back. “Sure?”

“Wonderful! I’ll tell Granny to cook for you as well.”

“Normal food, Mother,” Wednesday adds.

“Right,” Morticia winks at her daughter. “Good catch, darling.”

The basement’s a bit of a doozy for Enid.

She meets Granny Eudora there, who visually looks a couple fries short of a Happy Meal, but actually sounds incredibly quick-witted and sharp, chatting with them with a thick Mexican accent.

Wednesday then takes her to her favorite room apart from her bedroom.

Enid doesn’t know what to expect but it certainly isn’t a freaking torture chamber.

“It’s a collection of sorts,” Wednesday explains. “We mostly don’t use any of it.”

“Mostly?!” Enid walks around Wednesday to look her in the eye. “Wednesday, mostly?!”

“Relax, Enid. Just the stretcher when Father has back pain, or the spinning board to practice my aim.”

That’s not too bad, she supposes.

“And I like to read on the electric chair.”

Enid follows her to the second floor flabbergasted.

The first room Wednesday shows her is her father’s study. Pugsley and Gomez are there, playing with Gomez’s model trains together.

“Hey, sis!” Pugsley greets. He frowns at the sight of Enid. “Did you kidnap someone?”

“No, this is my friend Enid.”

Holy shit, she’s really throwing it out there like it’s an every day occurrence.

Maybe Enid should’ve tried to befriend her sooner after that failed first attempt.

“I didn’t know you had friends!” Pugsley exclaims. “Cool! Hi Enid, I’m Pugsley, I’m Wednesday’s brother.”

“That’s what the doctor said anyway, I still haven’t found proof,” Wednesday quips.

“And this is our dad, Gomez,” Pugsley adds, ignoring his sister.

The man hasn’t looked up since they entered, his eyes focused on the two trains that are rapidly approaching each other.

“Give him a minute,” Wednesday sighs.

Enid watches with her eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

Huh. So they’re all little weirdos.

Like.

Not one of the Addams is normal.

Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

She needs to be writing this down immediately.

The trains crash. The metal grinds, the nearby houses are destroyed and there’s even a small explosion.

Gomez hoots and claps.

“Nice one, Dad!” Pugsley says.

The man finally looks up, noticing two more people in the room.

“Mi tormenta,” Gomez greets with a frown, “did you kidnap someone?”

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

Should Enid start to get worried?!

“No, this is my friend Enid.”

That’s three for three. Three smiles and three times she’s called Enid a friend to other people.

But who’s counting right?

“How dreadful! We’ve never met one of Wednesday’s friends. You should stay for dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m—I’m staying.”

Enid twists the sleeves of her shirt over her hands.

How are these people so freaking welcoming? Don’t get her wrong, they’re still weird as shit, but they’re actually really nice.

Her mom would’ve kicked Wednesday out by now.

“We’ll be in my room until dinner, Father.”

“Very well, mija, I’ll send Lurch to fetch you.”

Wednesday’s bedroom is obviously last.

The room has a huge bed with an octopus engraved on the headboard, a high backed chair next to a bookshelf, a beautiful black cello on a stand, and a ton of really creepy decorations, like taxidermied squirrels and ceramic dolls.

Enid gets a chill down her spine.

“Those are a choice,” she says, pointing at the numerous beady eyes that observe her from the shelves.

“Yes, I crafted that one myself.” Wednesday points proudly at the squirrel sitting in a miniature electric chair.

“You’re so weird.”

Wednesday crosses her arms over her chest.

“I feel the same way about you.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Wednesday takes a pause. “Neither did I.”

Enid grins a little bashfully.

“Can I sit on your bed?”

Wednesday nods.

A black shape crawls from under Wednesday’s desk and jumps on the bed.

Enid stares in shock at a black raggedy cat with a missing eye and a big scar over it.

It blinks a singular yellow eye at Enid.

“Wednesday! You didn’t tell me you have a cat!” Enid holds her hand out and the cat sniffs it.

“Enid, meet Thing.”

“Thing?! You named your cat Thing.”

“What’s wrong with the name?”

Enid just shakes her head.

“Is he friendly?”

“Too friendly, I’d say.”

Enid spends the next few minutes petting Thing, who starts making biscuits on Enid’s leg, his tiny sharp claws catching on the denim.

“He’s such a sweetie.”

“Shall we begin?” Wednesday asks, sitting primly at her desk chair.

Enid takes out her phone and opens her recording app.

“Okay I’m recording and we’re on the record.” Enid pulls out her notebook. “Tell me, what’s it like growing up in the Addams family?”

Wednesday and Enid talk for hours and Enid writes down some amazing quotes that she’s sure she wants to use verbatim on her profile.

At some point, Wednesday joins her on the bed and Thing falls asleep on Wednesday’s pillow.

They end up sitting cross legged facing each other, Enid’s chucks and Wednesday’s platform sneakers scattered on the floor.

“I think I have more than enough.” Enid presses stop on the recording. “And we are now off the record.”

“Will you be using any of it?”

“Oh totes,” Enid says. “I think it’s super important to contextualize you. You can seem like, not a real person from afar.”

“Elaborate.”

“Like, you’re a bit like a myth in school. Like a legend. Or like a weather phenomenon, just something that happens and people watch from afar.”

“That’s ridiculous. I am a person.”

“I know!” Enid laughs. She pinches Wednesday’s arm gently and is surprised to find she doesn’t move away. “You’re like, flesh and bone.”

“Don’t let my enemies find out.”

Enid laughs again. “We’ll see if they read the Jericho Chronicles.”

Wednesday sighs. “This profile’s going to make me more approachable to people, isn’t it?”

Enid twists her mouth in sympathy. “I’m afraid so.”

“Great. I can’t wait to have another stalker.”

“Woah, woah, we’re not brushing past that. Another?”

“Yes. There’s this Freshman who’s been stalking me.”

“Wednesday! That’s so not okay! You need to report it!”

“It’s not worth it. She’s harmless.”

“She?”

Oh.

Oh, so it’s a she.

“Her name is Agnes. She’s the size of a nickel.”

“Yeah, well, newsflash Wednesday! You’re the size of a dime!”

“I have it handled, Enid. She’s just a little copycat.”

Oh, okay she’s not into Wednesday.

She just wants to be Wednesday.

That changes things.

“Okay… if you say so.”

They fall silent.

Enid inches her fingers towards Wednesday’s knee, taps with her fingertips, testing.

Wednesday just watches her.

Enid rests her hand on the other girl’s knee, feeling the faint warmth of Wednesday’s body through her sweats.

She swallows thickly. Waits for Wednesday to push her away.

She does not.

“I thought maybe you meant like, a stalker that wanted to date you or something.”

“If someone was stalking me with romantic intent, they’d be wasting their time and demonstrating poor judgment.”

“Do you… not date?”

Oh God, what is she doing? Is she being super obvious right now?

Control yourself, woman!

“I did with Tyler, briefly.” Wednesday’s jaw muscles tense. “You know how that ended.”

“Right, but that’s just a bad apple.”

“Don’t try to soften it with a metaphor.”

“I’m not. It was super fucked up what he did. I’m just saying, you know, don’t give up on love.”

Now she’s starting to sound like a Hallmark card. Great.

“Love is dreadfully overrated.”

“I don’t believe that, I think it’s pretty great.”

“Do you date?”

Okay, Enid, this is your moment to test the waters.

Be cool.

“I haven’t in a while, but yeah.” She wets her lips. “I dated Ajax from the newspaper and Bruno from the football team… and Anya, from the swim team.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

Does she go for it?

Now or never.

“I figured out I like girls more than boys.”

“Mmh.” Wednesday stares at Enid’s hand still on her knee. “I find all people equally disappointing.”

What does that mean?

What does that mean?!

Enid’s about to ask when there’s a knock on the door.

The hand on Wednesday’s knee is pulled back so fast she almost hits the headboard.

Wednesday eyes her a little weirdly before she goes to open the door.

It’s Lurch, coming to take them to dinner.

That evening, Enid eats a delicious, bloody stake and potatoes while the Addams enjoy a mysterious meat stew.

They ask about her too.

And about the newspaper.

And the profile.

They are delighted to know they’ll be a part of it.

Wednesday walks her to the door and Enid stands for a few seconds wishing she could hug her goodbye.

But something tells her Wednesday’s not the hugging type.

So she just waves and rides her bike home.

When she gets there, the lights are all off. There’s a note in the fridge telling her they ate without her and if she’s hungry, there’s frozen meals in the freezer.

Enid rips the note into pieces.

INTERVIEW:

ENID SINCLAIR: Would you consider yourself a good person?
WEDNESDAY ADDAMS: I don’t care about society’s moral metrics, I believe in fairness.
ENID S.: Gates is in prison and Galpin is in a Psychiatric Facility, do you think that’s fair?
WEDNESDAY A.: Yes. I think they should suffer for what they did.
ENID S.: Is suffering the same as justice?
WEDNESDAY A.: It can be.
ENID S.: You sound certain, are you ever wrong?
WEDNESDAY A.: Rarely.
ENID S.: If someone you cared about did something similar, would you take action against them?
WEDNESDAY A.: Depends on what they did and why they did it.
ENID S.: So you’d betray your sense of justice.
WEDNESDAY A.: My loyalty comes first.
ENID S.: So it’s fair to say you’re a fiercely loyal person.
WEDNESDAY A.: All Addams are.

They meet after school.

The Weathervane seemed like a good place to Enid, nice vanilla latte, soft music, comfy chairs.

But Enid forgot Tyler used to work here.

Wednesday hesitates as she enters.

It’s subtle.

Almost imperceptible.

But they’ve spent many hours together now and Enid’s observant.

Kinda has to be in her line of work.

It’s clear in the way she slows her walk, glances at the counter, and then accelerates towards the table again.

Fucking Tyler really did a number on her.

“We can go somewhere else if you want,” Enid says, her eyes soft.

“Why would we do that?”

“You’re uncomfortable here.”

“I’m never uncomfortable.”

Enid rolls her eyes.

“I can tell, you know.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Fine,” Enid agrees easily. “Let me go order and we can start. What do you want?”

“A quad.”

“Four shots of espresso?!”

“That’s what quad means, yes.”

“Four.”

“Seems like you’ve got a good grasp on the numbers. Maybe we can try colors next,” she deadpans.

“Is that what you usually drink?”

“Yes.”

“How are you alive?”

“At this rate, I’ll be dead by the time you bring me my coffee.”

Enid goes to the counter, still shaking her head.

“Here’s your caffeine bomb.”

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, it’s on me.”

Wednesday squints her eyes at her, but doesn’t insist.

And like, Enid only paid because she feels bad about choosing the Weathervane.

It’s not like they’re on a date.

She did put on some make up and perfume but she does that everyday anyway.

And she’s wearing her pink choker and her star-patterned shirt, which are super cute together.

And she has noticed Wednesday’s wearing eyeliner.

And a baggy leather jacket with a tight long sleeve underneath.

She looks very goth and, from the outside, it very much looks like a date.

But it’s not.

Because Enid’s working and she has a deadline.

“So, interview.”

“I thought all you’ve been doing these past weeks was interviewing me.”

“Yes, but with this interview I’ll actually transcribe some of the questions and answers down. Those I find interesting.”

“Are you saying my answers are not always interesting?” Wednesday asks with a tiny head tilt and a cocked eyebrow and.

Is that.

Flirting?

Is she flirting with Enid?

“I’m definitely not saying that,” Enid replies, tentatively trying to match her tone. “You are by far the most interesting person I know.”

“Is this on the record?”

Enid glances at her phone. The app is not recording yet.

“No.”

Wednesday clicks her tongue. “Shame.”

Okay, that’s flirting.

Enid’s not crazy.

Right?

“Okay, I’m recording now, so we’re on the record.”

“How many questions do you have?”

“Oh, so many. And I’ll improvise more as we go.”

“So we’ll be here all afternoon.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

Wednesday leans back on the seat, her leather jacket creaking. She looks at Enid expectantly.

“Okay, so, would you consider yourself a good person?”

The interview continues for a couple hours.

Enid learns more about Wednesday that she ever thought was possible.

She learns about her moral code, about her passion for crime solving, her sense of justice and fairness.

Enid tries to dig deeper into that; where that sense stems from and why she feels the need to settle the scores of the world around her.

And so, Enid learns about Nero, Wednesday’s pet scorpion that she had as a child and the first time the world failed her.

Kids are mean and Enid’s initial reaction to the mention of a scorpion is a grimace of disgust.

But Wednesday speaks of Nero with reverence and through her monotone recounting of the events, the hurt she felt as a child still sounds raw.

And Enid learns that Wednesday is capable of loving things, regardless of their shape.

Enid also learns about her most prized possession, the Viper de la Muerte novels that she’s writing. She figures out that Viper is a self-insert (not like she tells Wednesday this) and discovers that Wednesday recently added a new character to the story.

“What’s Evelyn like?”

“Aggressively upbeat, relentlessly enthusiastic and persistently emotional. Colorful.”

“Oh.”

Okay…

Did Wednesday just add Enid to her story or is this a weird coincidence?

There doesn’t seem to be recognition on her face. Either that or she’s hiding it well.

Enid moves on.

She packs her laptop and her notebook, letting the recorder do all the work for this part.

“I’m gonna rapid fire you now, so you just answer quick and with one word if you want, and we won't elaborate much.”

“I know what rapid fire means, Enid.”

“Jeez, sorry, I forgot you could be the Editor-in-Chief if you wanted.”

“Not to worry, Enid. I have no interest in stealing your spot.”

“Phew, what a relief,” Enid deadpans with a good-natured eye roll. And then, because Enid’s feeling a little high on Wednesday trivia, she winks at her.

Enid watches Wednesday blink, and then a faint blush bloom on her cheekbones.

Fuck, she’s so cute.

Focus, Enid.

“Okay, first question, biggest weakness?”

“I don’t have any.”

“If you had to say one.”

“I’m medically allergic to color.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I thought we weren’t meant to elaborate.”

Enid pauses the recording.

“Whatever, off the record, but… what the fuck? How can you be allergic to color?”

“It’s a skin reaction to most dyes.”

Enid bites her lip.

“So you can’t touch someone—I mean, something that is colorful?”

“I can. I take allergy pills.”

“Oh. And… why do you take them?”

“Unfortunately, the world is filled with color.”

“Right.” Enid hits record.

“Especially lately.”

She smiles, bashfully looks at her nails.

“Okay, back on the record. Do you believe in fate?”

“No. I reject the idea that my future is predetermined.”

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“I have FOBI.” She gets a blank stare as a response. “Fear of being included.”

Enid rolls her eyes. “A real answer now?”

Wednesday exhales through her nose. “Losing people I care about.”

That hits Enid square in the chest. She doubts Wednesday’s ever said that out loud before.

“Are you happy?”

“I prefer to be miserable.”

“Come on! I don’t believe that.”

“Wednesday’s child is full of woe.”

“Oh my God, you’re so emo, I can’t.”

Wednesday squints, not liking that title. “I can feel satisfied, content. But I don’t usually experience joy.”

“Okay, noted. What would you change about yourself?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Damn, could you bottle up some of that self-confidence and pass it around?”

“I…” Wednesday looks out the window for a moment. Her teeth grind together. “Sometimes I wish I was slightly taller.”

“Aw!” Enid coos. Wednesday turns murderously towards her, but she’s not deterred. “But you’re so cute the size that you are.”

Wednesday grabs the closest weapon, a tea spoon.

“Call me that again and they won’t find your body.”

Enid just giggles, eying the spoon bemusedly.

“Sorry, sorry. Um, okay. Favorite music genre.”

Wednesday huffs, dropping the spoon. “Classical music. Classic rock. Death Metal if I’m having a day.”

“Favorite food?”

“Roadkill pot pie.”

Enid scrunches her face in disgust.

“Favorite person?”

Wednesday takes a second to reply, just staring intently at Enid.

“My uncle Fester.”

“Favorite season?”

“Winter.”

“Because of the Christmas lights?”

“Because everything’s dead.”

“Favorite animal?”

“The raven.”

“Favorite book?”

“Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.”

“Favorite color?”

Wednesday looks at her in a deadpan.

“Alright, miss goth, I get it.”

“Yo, Enid!”

They both raise their eyes to the newcomers, suddenly realizing there’s actually a whole world going on outside of this table.

Yoko and Divina walk to their table hand in hand, bringing some of the chill from the outside.

Enid glances out the window.

The wind has picked up.

Fuck, she’s gonna freeze her nips off on the way home.

“And… Wednesday Addams.” Yoko seems delighted by this.

Enid sends her a warning look, mentally communicating: not one joke about my supposed obsession.

“Hey guys,” Divina greets with a wave. She looks at their drinks, their outfits, their flushed expressions, and innocently asks: “Are you on a date?”

Oh.

Oh, so it was Divina she should’ve been worried about.

Et tu, Brute?

“No!” Enid rushes to clarify. “No, no, we’re here because of the profile I’m writing on Wednesday for the Chronicles. This is not—I’m interviewing her.”

“Oh, cool. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Divina seems to sense the awkwardness. “I’m gonna see if our order is ready, babe.”

Yoko sits next to Enid, scoots close to her with a smirk and puts her arm around her shoulders.

“You’re looking cute, pup.”

“Pup?” Wednesday asks. She looks mostly apathetic, but Enid can see the tension in her jaw, the slight frown, the piercing widened eyes.

She’s not happy.

“Yoko and I have been friends since kindergarten.” Enid tries to subtly get out from under her arm. “I was obsessed with wolves and wanted to be one, so she started calling me puppy.”

“Totally platonic.”

Enid elbows her in the side, finally removing the arm on her shoulders.

“Oof, what? It is.”

“Yoko, I think your girlfriend needs you.”

Yoko glances at Divina.

“Nah, I think she’s fine.”

“Yoko, get the hell away from our table,” Enid hisses.

“Sheesh, sorry, I’m going.”

Divina and Yoko leave shortly after with a wave from Divina and a “have fun guys!” from Yoko.

“I’m sorry about them,” Enid says, mortified.

“Why?”

“If… they made you uncomfortable or—“

“They didn’t.”

“Right.” Enid looks at the time. “It’s getting late and I’m done with the interview basically so…”

“Let’s go.”

“Fuck, it’s freezing!” Enid says the moment they walk out.

The weather outside is worse than Enid anticipated. The temperature has dropped dramatically and the wind whips at her face with a vengeance.

Wednesday walks Enid to her bike.

“Okay, so… I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Where else would I be?”

“By the way, why don’t you give me your phone number and I can text you when to meet?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“What?”

“I hate being a slave to technology.”

“I—but… I can’t text you?”

“Not unless you write me a letter and mail it.”

“That takes forever!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to talk to me in person.”

“Okay, but, if you ever got a phone—“

Wednesday sighs. “I’d give you my number so you could text me.”

“Yay!” Enid claps her hands.

“And if I found out you betrayed my trust and gave my number to someone else, I would throw yours in the river.”

“Never,” Enid shakes her head emphatically. She puts her pinkie out. “Promise.”

Wednesday eyes her finger in a deadpan. Enid shivers.

“Okay, I really need to get going before I get pneumonia.”

“Here.”

Wednesday takes off her leather jacket and holds it out for Enid.

It completely fries her systems.

“Aren’t you cold?” Wednesday asks confused when she doesn’t take it, just stares at it, gaping.

“Yes, thank you.” Enid puts it on.

The smell of sandalwood and musky perfume hits her so hard, she has to hold on to the handlebar of her bike.

The jacket’s still big on her, as it was on Wednesday, but it’s so warm and cozy Enid can’t help but burrow into it.

Wednesday stands with her long sleeve black shirt, the sheer area around the neck showing off her collarbones.

Enid’s stomach does a flip.

“Won’t you get cold?” Enid asks.

“I like the cold.”

“Okay… I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

Wednesday nods and turns to leave.

Enid bikes home wrapped in warmth.

And if she sniffs the inside of the collar in the solitude of her room, that’s nobody’s business but hers.

ANECDOTES:

Wednesday Addams is peculiar in a way that can be endearing. The more you get to know her, the more her oddness becomes her charm. She rarely ever shows vulnerability, so when you get to see behind her carefully constructed facade, you feel like the most special person in the world.

Last month, she was caught reading a forensic report during a poetry reading.

For the Jericho Chronicle’s Superlative Special publication last year, she was voted both ‘Most Likely to Commit a Felony’ and ‘Most Likely to Help You Cover a Crime’ by the student body.

Yesterday, she saved me a seat next to her in the cafeteria, and then made up an excuse when I questioned her about it.

And last week, when I was cold|

“What’s on the agenda next?”

Enid jumps five feet in the air, knocking her knee on the Newsroom table where she’s sitting.

“Wednesday!” She hisses. “How? The door freaking squeaks when you open it!”

“It doesn’t if you’re skilled.”

“So you admit you’re just trying to jump-scare me.”

Wednesday smirks and sits next to her.

What’s the tally after all these weeks? Like 15 smirks and 7 smiles?

“So, agenda?”

“Right,” Enid hides her open doc with her half written profile and clicks back to her notes. “I want to get some more anecdotes about you, so I thought we could, um, spend a day together.”

“The whole day?”

“Or not! I know how much you hate company.”

“Yours is tolerable.”

Enid flushes up to her ears.

From Wednesday that might as well be a declaration of love.

But it’s not.

So stop daydreaming.

“So, this Saturday, maybe?”

“I will see you at my house.”

Enid is up bright and early on Saturday, coming down to the kitchen to see her brothers wolfing down breakfast.

There’s no plate for her.

There never is.

“Oh, good, you’re up early instead of lazing around all morning,” her mom says from the living room.

She’s sitting on the couch, working. Enid’s dad is also there, her silent shadow as always.

Esther has timetables and papers strewn over the coffee table. Enid spots a training routine and a dieting plan. Private client probably.

“I’ll be gone all day.”

“And where exactly will you be, huh?”

“I’m working on something for the school newspaper.”

“Oh, not this again, sweetie,” she moans. “How about you worry less about your silly paper and more about your legacy, huh? Do you even know that we’re expanding the Wolfpack in Richmond?”

Enid rolls her eyes.

“I’m happy for you, Mom.”

“For me? You’re part of this family, Enid. You should be involved and happy about it for yourself!”

“I’m really not, Mom.” She nods back at her brothers. “You don’t need me.”

“Oh honey.” Esther rises from the couch to put hand on her shoulder. “Of course we don’t, but how do you think it looks from the outside that one of ours is not part of the Wolfpack, huh? You have to think about the optics, sweetie.”

Enid pulls away, her eyes stinging but refusing to cry.

She looks at her dad, who just lowers his gaze.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Wolfpack! I hate gymbro culture, I hate dieting and I hate my stupid legacy! I’m going to be a journalist, whether you like it or not. And I’ll be an excellent one too. So stick your freaking optics up your ass, Mom!”

Enid grabs her furry pink jacket and her backpack in a flurry, her mom gaping at her behind her back.

“Don’t expect me tonight.”

And she slams the door.

She holds on to her tears the whole way to Wednesday’s, but as the girl opens the door, she breaks down crying.

“Enid! What—“

Wednesday looks around alarmed, trying to find the source of Enid’s distress. She pulls her into the house and towards the couch.

“What’s wrong?”

Enid cries into her hands.

“Enid. Just give me a name.”

Enid looks up confused.

“What?”

“A name.” Wednesday looks murderous. “Who do I have to kill?”

Enid can’t handle Wednesday being protective on top of everything.

She hugs Wednesday, letting out a sob.

But Wednesday doesn’t hug her back.

In fact, she puts her hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her away.

Enid looks at her, heartbroken, tear streaks on her face.

Wednesday studies her face with intense eyes before pulling her back in.

It’s a little awkward as hugs go. Enid thinks Wednesday doesn’t have a lot of practice.

But she still holds her silently, hands a solid weight on her back for the next minute or so as her crying subsides.

Enid pulls back, wipes her face with her jacket.

“What happened?”

“I had a fight with my Mom. They’re just… my family doesn’t care about me at all unless I join them as one of the poster children for Wolfpack Athletics. They want me to work for the gym, continue their legacy or whatever… but I hate it, Wednesday. I hate gym culture, all that shit about wanting to be bigger, stronger, an Alpha.” Enid takes a shuddering breath. “I just want to report the news.”

“So do it.”

Enid glances at her out of the corner of her eye.

“They’ll like, disown me or something.”

“Haven’t they already casted you aside?”

Enid’s lip trembles. She nods.

“You don’t need them, Enid.”

It’s subtle, and Enid only notices because she knows Wednesday’s voice so well by now, having listened and relistened to hours of recordings.

But Wednesday’s voice grows soft.

Enid didn’t know she had the range to do that.

Not only that, but her eyes are softer too.

Wednesday Addams being soft for Enid Sinclair?

More likely than you think, apparently.

“You think so?”

“You’re a decent journalist who will be accepted at a decent college and will go on to do decent things.”

Enid chuckles. “Gosh, you’re terrible at comforting people.”

Wednesday looks a little embarrassed.

“I’ve never done it before.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for the hug.”

Wednesday nods.

“So,” Enid says, taking off her jacket and shaking off the bad vibes. “What’s your schedule like for today? I was hoping you’d go about your day normally and I’d just shadow you.”

“Well, I woke up at 7:00, had a freezing cold shower to start the day on a good note, had coffee and breakfast and I was about to review a new case that fell into my lap.”

“Hold on, a case? Are you investigating again?”

“These crimes seem to find me.”

Enid’s eyes widen. “OMG, tell me about it.”

“Follow me, I’ll show you the board.”

In her room, Wednesday explains the case that is pinned all over her investigation board.

Body parts have been found separately around Jericho, an ear, a foot, a hand. Wednesday has the pictures of the crime scenes up.

Enid has no idea how she got them.

As Wednesday presents her hypothesis, she starts to feel a little faint.

“Oooh, I need to sit down.”

Wednesday watches her. “You’re a journalist, Enid, crime cases come with gruesome pictures.”

“I’m not a crime investigator! I just report the news! Besides, I’d like to focus more on culture and like, events.”

Wednesday pulls a face.

“If we ever work together, you can deal with the crime solving and I’ll just report your findings, how about that?”

“Acceptable.”

Wednesday works on the case for a few more hours. Enid lounges on her bed, petting Thing and checking her phone.

She gets a message from Yoko.

Yokes😈

Yoko: how’s that obsession going?

Me: it’s not an obsession, stop saying that

Yoko: crush then

Me: I don’t have a crush

Yoko: yes you do

Me: fine
Me: I do

Yoko: so?

Me: so I’m at her house
Me: on her bed

Yoko: 👀👀
Yoko: for real???

Me: [image]

Yoko: is that a cat?

Me: yes, his name is Thing 🐈‍⬛

Yoko: so Addams is a pussy lover

Enid chokes on her spit.

“Enid?”

“Nothing. Just… Yoko’s being annoying.”

Yokes😈

Me: Yoko!!!! You’re insufferable

Yoko: have you asked her yet?

Me: asked her what? And DONT BE GROSS

Yoko: loving pussy is not gross, Enid. It’s beautiful.
Yoko: pretty sure Anya taught you that

Enid’s face grows bright pink.

“Enid, are you ill?”

“Nope, I’m super fine. Just chilling. Don’t mind me.”

Yokes😈

Yoko: and I meant ask her out, dummy
Yoko: have you?

Me: I’m not even gonna respond to all that
Me: and no I haven’t
Me: I don’t even know if she’s into girls, much less into me

Yoko: from what you’ve told me she’s pretty sweet on you
Yoko: and the jacket thing…

Me: I was freezing and she’s like immune to the cold

Yoko: let’s not ignore the fact that YOU'RE IN HER BED

Me: I’m shadowing her today
Me: for the profile

Yoko: right…
Yoko: I still think you should just rip the bandaid off and ask her out

Me: Not that I would anyway without being sure
Me: but technically I can’t
Me: journalistic integrity
Me: ethical impartiality
Me: etc etc

Yoko: give me a break
Yoko: as if you’re not already failing all that
Yoko: you’ve been like
Yoko: super into her for years

Me: no I haven’t!!! You need to stop saying that!!!

Yoko: 🙄
Yoko: I’m gonna go, D’s taking me bowling

Me: ugh you guys are adorable

Yoko: could be you if you stopped fucking around!
Yoko: okay bye

Wednesday is staring when she looks up.

“What?”

“I’m done.”

“Oh.”

Enid rises. Thing meows annoyed.

“What are we doing now?”

“Field investigation. I believe I know where a new part of the body might show up.”

“Oh… fun…”

Enid spends the rest of the morning watching Wednesday poke around the riverbank of Jericho’s river with a stick.

She finally seems to finds something.

A pair of rubber gloves and ziplock bag later and Enid’s presented with a water swollen, half rotting thumb.

“Oh my God, ew.” She looks away. “Ew, don’t show me that!”

“Come on, we’re bringing it to the police.”

By the time they leave the Sheriff’s Office, Enid’s stomach is growling.

“Can we please stop to eat? We totally skipped lunch.”

“I thought you were nauseated.”

“Hey, I did pretty great in there, didn’t I?” Enid says defensively. “But seriously, I have a super fast metabolism. I need food, Wednesday. Oh my God, I would demolish a burger right about now.”

“Let’s find you one, then.”

“Yes!”

One burger and fries later, Enid sighs in satisfaction, leaning back on the booth of the diner.

“What now?”

Wednesday finishes her chicken salad, leaving her utensils on the bowl very properly.

Enid’s never seen anyone eat a salad with such poise.

The Addams really are something.

“Now we go back to my house.”

“Oh, by the way…” Enid smiles nervously. “Hah, I totally forgot to mention it, because I was so upset before…”

“What is it?”

“Can I stay at your place tonight? I kinda told my mom not to expect me and I really don’t want to go back there.”

Wednesday pulls out some money to pay for both their meals.

“You can stay.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Enid shadows Wednesday during her cello practice, as she does her homework and for her walk around the grounds to pick up cadaver mushrooms for dinner.

Enid’s kind of disgusted, but Wednesday assures her it’s just what they call them and they are perfectly safe to eat.

After dinner with the family, Enid and Wednesday relocate to her room and Wednesday sits at her desk.

“I will start my writing hour now. Don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.”

“Right, I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

Enid entertains herself scrolling through TikTok with the volume off, taking pictures of Thing, looking through Wednesday’s bookshelf.

She finds a well loved copy of Alice in Wonderland and smiles.

So there might be some whimsy in Wednesday Addams after all.

“I’m done.”

“Jesus,” Enid gasps in shock. Wednesday is right behind her. “Again? We’re in the same room.”

“I wasn’t even trying this time.”

“You’re like a ghost.”

Wednesday’s mouth quirks in satisfaction, her eyes sparkling at the words.

Only Wednesday would take that as a compliment.

“I’m going to get ready for bed, do you need clothes?”

“Oh, um, yes. If you don’t mind.”

Wednesday grabs some from her drawers.

“Follow me, I’ll show you the guest room.”

Well.

It’s not like Enid was expecting to sleep in her room.

Except she was.

But the house is huge.

She should’ve guessed.

The guest room is freezing. There’s a huge, dark armoire and a standing mirror that, as Enid turns off the lights, looks exactly like a person watching her from the corner.

She tries to sleep, she really does.

The floor creaks and she reasons it’s just an old house.

There’s a tapping on the window and she reasons, it must be a tree branch.

There’s a sudden soft breeze and she reasons, there must be a draft through the house.

But when she hears a groaning and a whispered voice, she leaves reason behind and runs for Wednesday’s room.

Her lights are off but she knocks anyway.

“Enid?”

“I’m so sorry, Wednesday. I tried, I swear, but I think the guest room is haunted. Can I sleep with you? In your bed I mean. Can I please, please, please, sleep in your bed?”

Wednesday lets her in.

“Did you hear my great-aunt Lenora?”

Enid sits on the bed and just stares at her.

“Did you?”

“Wednesday, what?”

“Her spirit manifests in that room. Did you hear her?”

“I must be hearing you wrong because for a moment it sounded like you knew the guest room was haunted and you still wanted me to sleep in there.”

“No, that is correct.”

“Wednesday!”

“What, Enid?” Wednesday asks exasperated.

“Is your house just casually haunted?!”

“Isn’t yours?”

Enid rubs her hands over her face. “Okay. Is this room haunted?”

“Just by the muse of my creative process.”

Enid rolls her eyes. “But no ghosts?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” Enid flops back into the bed.

It’s a lot warmer than the one in the guest room, which isn’t saying much. But it smells overwhelmingly like Wednesday’s shampoo and Enid’s body relaxes into the mattress.

Wednesday watches her for a moment, like she’s absorbing the image of Enid in her bed, between her black sheets, blonde hair dyed in pink and blue spread over one of the pillows.

“You okay?” Enid asks, voice quiet and private.

Wednesday opens her mouth, like she wants to say something. But she just snaps it shut again and nods.

Wednesday turns the light off and lays down next to Enid, her arms at her sides.

Their upper arms are barely touching, but Enid can feel the slight cold that Wednesday’s body always carries.

She moves her hand ever so slightly and her pinky bumps into Wednesday’s.

Her friend’s hand is even colder; it shocks her a little.

But Enid doesn’t move, her skin tingling at the point of contact.

It makes her stomach flip.

The silence is broken by the sound of her swallowing.

How horribly embarrassing.

But Wednesday stays very still. Enid can hear her breathing calmly.

Awake but unbothered.

Fuck.

Is this just in Enid’s head?

Is she really pining over the girl who feels nothing but apathy towards everyone?

Who only sees her as a friend?

Is she really freaking out about a jacket, a couple glances, and the brush of a finger?

How pathetic is that?

A gentle movement breaks her from her spiral.

Wednesday curls her pinky over Enid’s, holding on to it like they’re making a promise.

Enid exhales. Again, quite audibly.

Wednesday’s breathing gets slower as she falls asleep. Quieter too, almost like she’s dead.

Enid follows, their pinky fingers still intertwined.

The next morning Wednesday’s not in the room when Enid wakes up.

She follows the sounds, but mostly the smells of breakfast into the kitchen.

She finds Wednesday with Granny Eudora.

Accidentally, she eavesdrops on their conversation.

“You got an appetite all of a sudden?” Eudora asks, eying the absurd amount of bacon Wednesday is pilling on a plate.

“It’s for Enid.”

“Ohhh, the little flower with all the colors of the garden.”

“Yes, Granny, that one.”

“You like this one?”

“I barely tolerate most people.”

“Not what I asked, chamaca.” [girl]

“Your question was irrelevant.”

“Not irrelevant if I’m going to be seeing her around the house. She’s very colorful. I have to prepare my eyeballs.”

Enid coughs, paints an innocent grin on her face. “Good morning!”

“Morning florecita,” [little flower] Eudora says. “Sit, Wednesday made you breakfast. I’m going to the greenhouse to get some Belladona for the wine.”

“Morning, Wednesday,” Enid greets coyly as she sits.

“Good morning, Enid.” Wednesday points at the table filled with bacon, eggs, bread, honey, jam. “You said you have a fast metabolism, so. Eat.”

Eudora eyes them knowingly, slipping a satchel over her shoulder.

“Bueno, ahora le cuentas a la florecita que me vaciaste la cocina porque simplemente ‘la toleras’, ¿eh? A ver qué te dice.” [Alright, now tell the little flower you emptied my kitchen because you ‘tolerate her’, huh? See what she says.]

“Granny,” Wednesday hisses. “¿No que te ibas?” [Weren't you leaving?]

Granny leaves with a cackle.

“You speak Spanish?”

”My family on Father’s side is Mexican and Puerto Rican.”

”Ohh. I was wondering.”

“But I speak 7 languages.”

Enid should not even be surprised at this point.

“Which are?”

“English, Spanish, German, Italian, French, Latin and Tagalog.”

“Woah. That’s so cool.”

“It’s useful.”

“I bet.”

“Will you be returning to your home after breakfast?”

“Well, I mean. I don’t have to, but if you want me out of your hair—“

“I don’t care.” Wednesday puts some of the food on her plate, cuts the eggs with the knife and fork.

“Okay. I’ll stay. The longer I’m away from my mother, the more my aura heals honestly.”

“I’ll be reading in the graveyard.”

“I’ll… join?”

Wednesday nods.

Wednesday picks Alice in Wonderland, which she noticed Enid looking at last night.

They sit on a stone sarcophagus, their backs against the tombstone.

Enid glances shyly at the book as Wednesday starts to read.

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how much would you hate reading it out loud?” Enid asks. “I’d hate to be alone out here with my thoughts, you know.”

Wednesday seems to consider this, which is already a win in Enid’s book.

She starts to read out loud.

Her voice fills the silence of the graveyard, accompanied only by the breeze through the trees.

Wednesday is the perfect narrator.

Enid didn’t know it was possible to be attracted to a voice, but here we are.

She sighs and leans her head on Wednesday’s shoulder.

Wednesday stops for a second, clears her throat and continues reading.

“I liked him a lot as a child,” Wednesday says as they reach the meeting with the Chesire Cat.

“Is he your favorite?” Enid asks from her shoulder.

“No, the Queen of Hearts is. I had a decapitation themed birthday when I was 8 because of her.”

Wednesday turns her head when she feels Enid chuckle against her. “What’s funny?”

Enid lifts her head off her shoulder.

“I was just imagining little Wednesday screaming ‘Off with their heads!’ around the house.”

“It’s not inaccurate.”

Enid chuckles again.

And then she notices how close they are.

Enid can’t help it; she looks down at Wednesday’s mouth.

And when her eyes snap back up, she notices Wednesday’s do too.

Fuck.

Enid’s gonna go for it, isn’t she?

Fuck.

Wednesday looks down again and Enid totally catches her this time.

Her stomach erupts in butterflies.

Could it be that she’s not alone in this?

She starts to lean in.

Her phone starts to blast BLACKPINK’s ‘How you like that?’ from her pocket.

“Fuck,” she gasps, jumping to her feet and fishing her phone out. “That’s my mom’s ringtone.”

Wednesday stands at the other side of the sarcophagus, arms at her side and looking a little lost.

“What?!” Enid barks into the phone.

“Enid Sinclair! You made your point. You better show up to dinner tonight or else!”

“Or else, what? You’ll ground me? It’s not like you even care what I do or where I go.”

Esther takes a deep breath, her voice tearful. “You’re so ungrateful… everything I’ve done for you, for this family, and this is how you treat me.”

Enid groans.

Here comes the victim complex.

“You don’t want to be part of Wolfpack Athletics? Fine. But you’re still part of this family and I expect to see your face at least once today. So come to dinner, honey, please.”

“Will you stop insisting that I join the Wolfpack?”

“I believe I heard you loud and clear. You don’t appreciate the hard work we put into it anyway.”

Enid pulls at her hair, holding in a scream.

Wednesday moves in front of her.

They look into each other’s eyes.

Enid calms down.

“Fine by me,” she manages to spit out. “Will you stop interfering in my path to be a journalist?”

“You know what, sweetie? All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and successful, but if you want to throw your life away for a pipe dream, I won’t stand in your way.” Enid presses her fingers to her eyes.

She will not cry again over this.

“But don’t think for a second that your father and I are going to support you financially.”

“Wasn’t expecting it.”

“Good, then. We have an understanding. Can you please come back now and stop behaving like a wild child? People will start talking and it’s going to look bad for our business.”

Enid hangs up with a deep shaky breath.

Wednesday doesn’t touch her or say anything, but she hovers close the whole way to her bike.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Enid says, visibly frustrated as she straddles her bike.

“I could have a chat with your mother if you wanted.”

“What would that accomplish?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

Enid knows she means it in a threatening way.

She knows this, okay?

Her hormonal teenage brain hears it another way.

“I don’t doubt it,” she flirts.

However, Wednesday misses it completely.

“I have a few instruments that improve compliance.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Very well. The offer still stands.”

Enid survives the rest of the Sunday on the high of Saturday and the knowledge that Wednesday Addams has her back.

OBSERVATIONS:

• She acts indifferent, but she cares deeply.
• She hates physical touch, but doesn’t reject mine.
• She blushes only around her cheekbones.
• She has calluses on her fingertips from playing the cello.
• Her hands are always cold.
• She’s fiercely protective.
• She speaks 7 languages.
• She has dimples that only show up when she smiles, which isn’t often.
• She never raises her voice, but when she speaks, you just want to listen.
• She has a lovely voice.
• She keeps a perfect posture and eats with perfect manners.
• She moves quietly, like a ghost.
• She’s immune to the cold.
• She likes cats.
• She rarely blinks when she’s concentrating.
• Her eyes are so dark, sometimes they look black.
• She has gorgeous eyes.

A week later, when Wednesday comes into the Newsroom, Enid is not there, but Ajax is.

“Oh hey, Addams, right?”

Wednesday nods, looking around inquisitively for a clue of where Enid might be.

“I’m Ajax, I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

The boy offers his hand for a handshake. It’s stained with ink. Wednesday just startes at it.

“Oh shoot,” he says, finding a rag to clean it. “I was fixing the printer. Again. It’s a nightmare. If only the school spent more money on the arts and less on sports, am I right?”

“Where’s Enid?”

“Oh, uh. I’m not sure. She was working in here a little while ago.”

Ajax points with his chin towards the end of a table.

Enid’s laptop is there. Wednesday recognizes the wolf-girl in a miniskirt that she’s stared at for the past couple months.

She sits in the chair next to Enid’s seat and waits.

Her eyes wander to the screen.

There’s a bullet point list.

Wednesday has a curious, inquisitive mind.

Who could blame her?

She starts to read: She acts indifferent, but she cares deeply.

About 10 minutes later, Enid walks in, dabbing her shirt with a napkin.

There’s a blue ink stain on the peach colored fabric. Whatever happened, it looks like Enid made it worse by trying to fix it.

“Oh, hey you!” Enid greets with a blinding smile at the sight of Wednesday. “I didn’t know you were coming by. I thought you had fencing.”

“Coach is out again.”

“Ah.”

Enid sits and notices what’s open on her screen. She quickly saves the document and closes the window, glancing at Wednesday out of the corner of her eye.

She seems to be intently staring at a point on the wall.

So pretty normal behaviour.

“Fixed it!” Ajax throws the rag in the trash. “I hope I don’t have to do that again for another month. Hey, what happened to your shirt?”

“Pen exploded.”

“No shit.”

“I know! And this is a new shirt too. Look at the ruffle sleeves! It’s so cute.” Enid huffs. “Just one of those days, I guess.”

“I’m sorry dude… but hey, printer’s operational at least.”

“Thanks, Ajax.”

“I’ll catch you later, B texted that she has no fencing class today.”

“Yeah, see ya!”

The door closes behind him, leaving Wednesday and Enid alone with the buzzing of the fluorescent lights.

“Alrighty!” Enid grabs her notebook. “I didn’t have anything planned for today, but since you’re here, I was thinking we could go over some observations.”

“Like what?”

“Just some assumptions that I’ve extrapolated from what I know about you. And you can tell me if they’re totally bonkers or if they sound right, ‘kay?”

“Fire away.”

“Okay!” Enid hits record on her phone. “We are on the record now. First one: You don’t care what anyone thinks about you.”

“Mostly true.”

“Mostly?”

“Next observation.”

“You enjoy making people uncomfortable.”

“True.”

“You don’t lie.”

“Mostly true.”

Enid gasps. “You said that to me the first time we talked!”

“I omit the truth, I don’t lie.”

“Oh, how Machiavellian of you.”

“Thank you, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Enid rolls her eyes, but her cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You’re incapable of feeling sentimental.”

Wednesday sits on that one for a beat.

“Mostly true.”

Enid’s eyes widen.

“Wow. You’re full of surprises today.”

“Like a hand grenade.”

Enid looks at her notes again.

“You don’t trust anybody.”

“False”

“Really?”

“I trust a handful of people.”

“Huh. Okay, you only keep people around if they’re useful.”

“Again, mostly true.”

Enid huffs. “How am I getting them all wrong?”

“You’re getting them right, you just seem to be missing the fact that there are people that are exceptions.”

“Okay, let me try again. You don’t let people in, except a very select few.”

“True.”

“Back on track, baby.” Enid dances in her seat.

When she looks back at Wednesday, her eyes are soft in that way they sometimes get.

Enid wets her lips.

“Um. You notice things that people usually don’t notice.”

“True.”

“You analyze people to find weaknesses.”

“True.”

“Gosh, I bet you would make scarily accurate observations about me.”

“I could.”

Enid squints her eyes in challenge.

“Okay, shoot. Let’s see if you’ve gotten me figured out in two months.”

There’s a pause.

“You’re scared of silence and you tend to fill it.”

“Mostly true, I—to be fair, I’ve been learning to enjoy it lately.”

“You trust easily.”

“True… sadly. I’ve gotten disappointed a lot.”

“You’re afraid of letting people down.”

That kinda knocks the air out of Enid.

“Oof. You’re not pulling your punches, huh?”

“True?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re a ride-or-die kind of friend.”

“I’d like to think so, yeah.”

“You face problems in two ways: reckless optimism, or blind panic.”

Enid giggles. “OMG that’s so me. Yes. True. Totally true.”

“You can’t hide your emotions to save your life.”

“Ah, yes. Heart on my sleeve and all that.”

“You’re a romantic.”

“True, come on. That’s low hanging fruit. Everyone knows this.”

Wednesday huffs. “Fine. You’re the most free when you dance.”

“Wha—how… how do you know this?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, it’s true, but—I haven’t danced in public since the talent show in Sophomore year. And that was like a super rehearsed performance that I actually hated. So, how could you possibly know this?”

Wednesday’s quiet for a moment, her eyes piercing through Enid’s. Enid actually thinks she’s gonna move on any second now and she’ll have to wonder if Wednesday can read minds for the rest of her life.

“The music room was renovated last year because they found mold in one of the walls. If we wanted to practice, we had to use the dance studio.”

“Okay?”

“It first happened on a Friday. I walked into the dance studio to practice scales on the school’s cello and you were there, alone, dancing. The lights were almost all out except for the one illuminating around you, so I don’t think you noticed me.”

“I… didn’t.”

“I watched you for the last 10 minutes of your practice and when you started picking up your belongings I moved into the hallway. I waited for you to leave and then I went in and carried out my practice.”

“Oh.”

“I was never actively seeking you out after that, but it kept happening. Some weeks I wouldn’t see you at all, others I’d catch you finishing your dance routine.” Wednesday cocks an eyebrow. “I am very stealthy, but you are alarmingly oblivious.”

“You could’ve said something,” Enid says embarrassed.

“Why? We weren’t friends. I didn’t want to intrude. I was just waiting for you to be done.”

“That is weirdly considerate of you, which you are not.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “I also found it—you, fascinating to watch, so I didn’t interrupt.”

Enid blushes.

“You moved with precision and freedom at the same time. You were technical but raw. It was a strange juxtaposition and I would find myself… intrigued.”

Yeah, this blush isn’t going anywhere.

“In any case, they finished the renovations for the music room this year, so I assumed we wouldn’t cross paths again.”

“Wow.”

Enid clears her throat.

What.

The fuck.

Does she even say to that.

“So, I have a stalker too.”

Great work, Enid.

Excellent execution.

Insult the girl you like, that’ll help!

Wednesday looks at her in a deadpan. “Believe me, if I was stalking you, you would’ve never found out.”

“That was a joke. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Wednesday looks away then, her eyes in a squint, like she’s angry.

Enid thinks she’s a little embarrassed.

“I watched you too.”

Her head snaps back so fast her braids whip around her.

“What?”

“From afar. Ever since you rejected my offer of friendship when you transferred I became so like, curious and—“ fuck it, Wednesday used that word too, “fascinated by you. So I watched you, in class, at the cafeteria, at the library, in the courtyard. So there I guess, we stalked each other.”

Wednesday swivels in her chair, sitting sideways on it.

Her eyes stay fixed on Enid’s. Piercing, slightly widened.

Searching.

Enid doesn’t know how to continue this portion of the profile. They’re so far off the mark.

All she was supposed to do was tell Wednesday some observations.

How did they get here?

“Your eyes are… very blue,” Wednesday says suddenly.

Enid blinks in confusion.

“Is that… another observation?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sure. I guess they are.”

“I want to be off the record.”

Enid’s getting whiplash.

“Okay, yeah.” She hits stop on the recording app. “We’re off the record.”

Wednesday leans in and kisses her.

It takes Enid a second to understand what’s happening, but when she does, her whole body goes into overdrive.

Her stomach does a somersault and her heart thuds in her ribcage.

Her eyes flutter shut and her hands raise to cradle Wednesday’s face.

Her brain shuts down.

And she kisses back.

She kisses back once, twice, three times.

She loses count.

Her lips part, a hand grabbing Wednesday by the back of her neck pulling her closer.

Wednesday has to lean on Enid’s thigh with her hand.

Which Enid is fine with.

She just wants to keep kissing her.

Wednesday’s lips are soft and plump, and she kisses like her inexperience is not a hindrance but an advantage. Because she has no reservations and she doesn’t hesitate to take what she wants.

And what she wants, apparently, is to deepen the kiss.

Wednesday’s tongue in Enid’s mouth is a gamechanger. Enid lets out a breathy whimper and pulls Wednesday even further into her.

Their positions suck.

Wednesday can’t get closer, her knees keep knocking into Enid’s chair. But she’s not about to break the kiss to reposition them.

No, sir.

That doesn’t stop her from trying to pull Wednesday basically into her lap.

Enid’s nails are probably digging into the back of Wednesday’s skull and shoulder, but she’s not complaining.

In fact, as Enid drags a wet kiss over her mouth, she groans into Enid like this could be her favorite type of torture.

A door closes in a nearby classroom, snapping Enid out of it.

She moves her face to the side, panting into Wednesday's cheek and waiting to see if anyone’s coming towards this room.

The footsteps fade away.

She frees Wednesday of her desperate grip but only slightly.

Only enough to look at her face.

“What—“ she has to clear her throat cause all that comes out is a husk. “What was that?”

“I believe it’s called a kiss.”

Okay, smartass, it would sound snarkier if you didn’t sound completely out of breath.

Enid doesn’t say that.

But she thinks it.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“Why did you kiss me back?”

“Seriously?”

“What?”

Enid rolls her eyes.

Her hands still hold Wednesday; one on her neck, the other on her shoulder.

“You know why,” Enid admits.

“I want you to say it, not imply it.”

“Like you’ve been implying it? With the jacket, and the breakfast, and the looks, and the graveyard—“

“Enid.” Wednesday glances away, a blush on her cheekbones. “I would have an easier time saying it if you said it first.”

“Oh.” Enid breathes out, her eyes roaming over Wednesday’s face now that she’s so close.

Her freckles are so adorable.

She wants to take a bite.

Hello, cuteness aggression. Let’s not do that to the scary goth with excellent swordsmanship skills.

Enid grins. “You’re shy?” She teases and.

Does she actually have a death wish?

Mayhaps.

Wednesday sits back slightly and Enid drops her hands to her knees in a pout.

“If I were shy, I would not have initiated this.”

“Then why…?”

“I have been burnt before by a cute, charming nerd with a blinding smile. History tends to repeat itself, it seems.”

Okay.

So many things to go over.

Firstly: called it.

Totally her type.

“I think that might just be your type, Wednesday.”

Wednesday sighs through her nose. “Perhaps.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Enid,” Wednesday says, exasperated.

“Fine, fine.” Enid takes one of Wednesday's hands between her own. “I like you a lot, that’s why I kissed you back. Duh. I’ve been obsessed with you since you transferred here.”

She rakes her blunt nails lightly over Wednesday’s palm, playing with her fingers before intertwining them.

Wednesday lets her. It makes the butterflies in her stomach go crazy.

“Your turn. Why’d you kiss me?”

“I’ve been analyzing how I’ve felt these past months in close proximity to you and I’ve considered what I’ve learnt about you. I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I find you… more than tolerable.”

Enid huffs, indignant.

“Wow, how exciting. You find me tolerable. That’s just—“ she tries to pull her hands away from Wednesday’s, but the other girl holds fast. “What every girl wants to hear, Wednesday, really.”

“Enid.” Wednesday leans forward to look her in the eye. “I like you too. Okay? I thought it was understood. I don’t tolerate anyone and you’re leagues above everyone that—“

Enid kisses her this time.

She cradles her face again, because she likes it and she can.

And considering this is the third kiss of her life, she finds that Wednesday is a really good kisser.

“Okay, sorry,” Enid pecks her lips between words. “Continue, you were saying?”

Wednesday cocks an eyebrow, her lips kiss-swollen and her eyes dark.

Fuck, Enid’s never gonna be normal about this, is she?

She’s never gonna be normal about her.

“I think I made myself clear.”

“Yep, I got the general idea.”

Enid feels so giddy.

She thinks she might be vibrating in her seat.

“Are you done with your observations?” Wednesday asks.

Enid suddenly remembers where they are.

At school.

Where they were working on her profile.

And now it’s getting late.

And they should be heading home.

“I am, actually. We should probably get going before the janitor finds us.”

“Would you like to have dinner at my house tonight?”

Enid tries to hide a little self-satisfied smile.

Eager much?

“I don’t wanna stir the pot too much with my mom. I still have to live with her until next fall.”

Wednesady squints her eyes, like she doesn’t like this answer, but she accepts it.

It’s cold out again, so Wednesday hands her her leather jacket.

“Keep it, you have a terrible habit of misunderstanding the weather report.”

“You’re giving me your jacket?”

Good God, is Enid in a romcom right now?

Is it gonna start raining next?

Thunder rumbles far away.

She was kidding!

She still needs to get home on her bike.

“It’ll be more efficient than letting you borrow it every day.”

Enid snuggles into it, openly sniffing the inside of the collar.

“Can I ask that you still wear it every few days?”

Wednesday seems confused. “Why?”

“So it can smell like you again.”

“If that pleases you.”

Oh so she’s a pleaser, huh?

Jesus, Enid, come on.

Who are you? Yoko?

“It does.”

She pulls Wednesday in by the front of her sweater. They kiss for about ten more minutes by the bike racks before Enid goes home.

CONCLUSION:

FROM THE FACULTY ADVISOR’S DESK:

Miss Sinclair
I’m going to pretend I don't possess the information that you’ve gotten personally involved with your profile subject, because that would be a major breach of boundaries and a failure to journalistic ethics.

Go back through the document before presenting it again, revise it and edit it immediately.
Keep it objective, keep it professional, and try not to treat it like a diary entry about your emotional journey.

While I am personally pleased to see you’ve created such a strong bond and found understanding in each other, professionally, Miss Sinclair, this is unacceptable.

However, I believe your profile has great potential.

So polish, refine.

By next week.

Larissa Weems
Principal | Head of English Department | Faculty Advisor, Student Newspaper

Enid groans into her locker door, the note that Weems left her held in her hand.

How embarrassing.

She didn't even reread the whole thing before sending it back for revision.

God she thinks she might’ve talked about how dark Wednesday’s eyes are and how Enid feels very special to have been let into her life.

“Good morning, Enid.”

And just like that, her problems are gone.

She spins around with a blinding smile.

“Hi, Wednesday.”

Wednesday’s in a long skirt and a checkered sweater, her arms wrapped around two books.

Books that look to be ancient and cursed and definitely not something found in the library.

Coolcoolcoolcool.

“I see you heeded my words of advice.”

Enid looks down at herself. She’s wearing a yellow plaid skirt with a tight pink sweater and on top of it, a black baggy leather jacket.

She can’t remember the last time she wore black, but she feels pretty confident in this outfit.

It’s definitely garnered her some looks. Mostly because they can tell it’s Wednesday’s jacket.

So people have started talking.

The Newsroom kiss(es) just happened like three days ago, so Enid would love to get ahead of it.

It just so happens that Wednesday has something to say too. At the same time.

“So, before we get to class—“

“I want to show you something—“

Enid chuckles. “You go first.”

Wednesday pulls out something from the pocket of her skirt.

It’s a black phone.

“OMG, Wednesday!” Enid takes it excitedly. “This is amazing. I have so many memes to send you and—“

“Enid.” Wednesday’s eyes darken. “I trust you will use my number responsibly to communicate with me when necessary and not to send me low quality pictures with inane jokes.”

Enid is already saving her number and sending herself a text.

“This is so cool. I’m gonna text you all the time, oh my God.”

“Enid, I said use it responsibly.”

The bell starts to ring.

“Shoot, we’re gonna be late. I’ll see you in English, ‘kay?”

“Enid.”

“Check your messages!”

Wednesday 🖤

Me: hi ☺️
Me: so you look really cute from here
Me: the sun’s hitting you just right
Me: I can tell you hate it by your squinting
Me: oh you looked back 🤭
Me: totally caught you

Wednesday: Enid, pay attention.

Me: I can’t stop thinking about what happened in the Newsroom
Me: I saw you read this text and blush! I saw it!
Me: do you think we could do it again?
Me: I know the dance studio is empty during lunch
Me: ☹️
Me: you don’t want to?

Wednesday: I will see you there.
Wednesday: Now stop texting and pay attention.

Me: okay! Can’t wait! 😍🐺🖤🩷

As soon as the door to the dance studio shuts behind them, Enid grabs Wednesday by the waist and pushes her against the wall.

Wednesday doesn’t resist, actually leans up to let Enid kiss her stupid.

Kissing Wednesday on the mouth is like, 10/10, won’t recommend because she’s the only one that gets to do it (hopefully).

But Enid’s always been a bit greedy, and her attention span a bit short.

So, she kisses her cheek, over her dimple, down to her jawline and her neck.

Wednesday’s head thumps back against the wall and Enid starts sucking kisses and bites over her skin.

Wednesday kind of lets Enid do whatever.

While being super responsive to all of it.

How interesting.

So the goth is pretty assertive in her day to day, but when it comes to this… she seems to let Enid take the lead.

Which is ideal for Enid, to be honest.

Because she likes getting what she wants.

It’s about 15 minutes later that they stop to breathe. Wednesday’s neck look like she was mauled by a wild wolf and her eyes are dark and half-lidded.

“Um, so,” Enid says, catching her breath. “I left so many bruises.”

Wednesday looks to one of the mirrored walls to check the damage.

“So you did.”

“Is that okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“People are gonna suspect… they’ve already started asking questions.”

“You know very well how I feel about people’s opinions. And people.”

“Right but, okay.” Enid leans back a bit to give them both some space. “I’m wearing your jacket to school, and we’re around each other all the time, and now they’re gonna see you with—you know.”

Enid nods to her neck.

“I don’t understand what’s the problem with any of those facts.”

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend? Like, date me exclusively and hold hands in public, and be an official couple.”

“Yes, yes, not all the time, and yes.”

“Wait, which one—?”

“I’m not a big fan of public displays of affection. In fact I’ve historically despised them, but I think, maybe, with you, an exception could be made. But I can’t promise how often or how consistently. Hence the ‘not all the time’.

“Oh, that’s totally fine! That’s—I’m so cool with that. Whatever your speed is. Hold on, wait, you said yes! You’re my girlfriend?! OMG yay!”

Enid takes her by the face and kisses her again, pouring all her enthusiasm into the kiss.

Yoko catches up to them much later, as Wednesday walks Enid to her bike.

Wednesday’s neck looks like a Picasso.

Enid’s wearing her jacket.

They’re holding hands.

“Hey, you,” Yoko drawls. She lowers her sunglasses, which she only wears because of aesthetics, because it’s freaking winter.

“Hi, Yokes. What’s up?”

“What’s up with you two? You finally listened to me?”

“What is she talking about?” Wednesday asks.

“Um, Yoko’s been pushing me to ask you out for a while.”

“Yeah, for years.”

“Am I supposed to be thankful?” Wednesday snarks.

Yoko shrugs. “Nah, just confirm it for me, please? The people wanna know.”

“Who are the people?”

“Divina, Ajax, Bianca.”

“Yes, we’re dating,” Enid says with a satisfied grin. “You can tell everyone, it’s not a secret.”

Yoko nods at Wednesday’s neck. “Yeah, I don’t think you could’ve kept it hidden realistically.”

“Are we done here?” Wednesday asks.

“Yes, you’re free to go,” Yoko teases, bemused.

“Double date soon?” Enid asks back to Yoko as they walk.

“Absolutely not,” Wednesday answers.

In conclusion, my time profiling Wednesday Addams has opened my eyes to a few distinct truths about her character.

While Wednesday is often perceived as detached or difficult, behind a hard exterior hides a mind exceptionally suited to investigation, pattern recognition, and deductive reasoning.

There is also an undeniable pursuit of justice in the way she approaches the world. And although she is guided by logic and rationality, her biggest strength lies in her unshakable loyalty, that prevails above all else.

That sense of loyalty, however, is inseparable from her upbringing. Raised in a household defined by the contradiction of love and darkness, and growing up in a world that vilifies her as much as it puts her on a pedestal, Wednesday Addams embodies those dichotomies in her strange balance of rule breaking and defiance against oppression.

Whatever one thinks of her methods, it is difficult to ignore the results: last year Wednesday Addams saved the town of Jericho from a threat that many others, including the Sheriff’s Department, overlooked. And wherever she ends up in the future, that town should be glad to have such a brilliant mind ensuring criminals are brought to justice.

AUTHOR’S NOTES

Author’s Note:
This profile was compiled from direct observation and interview material collected over the course of one semester.

Certain details have been withheld or adjusted in accordance with school publication guidelines.

During the reporting process, the distance typically maintained between journalist and subject became increasingly difficult to maintain. While every effort has been made to adhere to journalistic integrity, complete objectivity would be dishonest to claim.

Wednesday sits at her kitchen table, browsing through Enid’s laptop while Thing purrs away in her lap.

Enid paces behind her, biting her lip and twisting her fingers in anxiousness.

“Is it up yet?” Enid ask for the maybe 17th time.

“No, Enid. Like it wasn’t three seconds ago. I will let you know when it is.”

“Why is it taking so long, what the hell? Oh God, it’s because they’re gonna reject me, isn’t it? I’ll have to go to like, my fourth option and you’ll move to New York without me and the distance will be too much for us and you’ll break up with me and I’ll never have my big break and I’ll see you with your new girlfriend on Instagram and I’ll be devastated and I’ll forget how to write and I’ll never win a Pulitzer!”

“It’s up,” Wednesday announces, having completely ignored her rant.

Enid whines long and high-pitched for a few seconds.

Like a puppy.

It all makes sense in the end.

“I got accepted.”

“OMG, yay!” Enid claps.

She wraps her arms around Wednesday from behind, one hand slipping under the half zipped oversized hoodie she’s wearing.

Wednesday’s chest and collarbone are a little cold.

She warms them up with her hand.

“Of course they did, duh. They can’t miss out on your brilliant, crime-solving mind.”

Enid kisses her cheek, her neck, grabs her jaw to press a sweet, long kiss to her lips.

“Congrats, baby.”

“I’ve repeatedly told you not to call me that.”

“And yet you blush so pretty and kiss me that much harder every time,” Enid teases.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, a blush indeed faint on her cheekbones.

“I’m checking yours.”

Enid’s off her in a flash.

“Oh God,” she groans, starting to pace again. “I’m gonna have a heart attack. Like, seriously, can I have a heart attack at 17?”

“Statistically unlikely, but not unheard of.”

“You’re not helping, Wednesday!”

“When have you known me to do that?”

And sure.

Wednesday’s cold (physically and otherwise) and detached.

She’s blunt and sarcastic.

And she’s not the best at comforting Enid.

But apparently that’s exactly what Enid wants, because:

She’s warm enough for the two of them and Wednesday never rejects her touch.

She finds her sarcasm amusing (and kinda really hot).

And as they get comfortable with each other, Wednesday’s getting better at the comforting part.

In her own Wednesday way.

Which Enid likes very much.

And Wednesday’s still crazy protective of her, still fiercely loyal, and has added Enid to the short list of people who she trusts.

And that’s just… phew.

It feels huge.

God, she just likes her.

It’s starting to feel like she should be using a stronger word in that sentence.

But it feels too soon to consider that; it hasn’t even been 5 months.

“You got accepted.”

Enid whips her head to the laptop.

“Tell me you’re not lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

“We both know that’s not true and just—are you serious, Wednesday?! Can you check? Can you double check?”

Wednesday pushes the laptop towards her.

There in bold letters at the top of the page it says: CONGRATULATIONS.

Enid reads:

Decision: Admitted — Bachelor of Arts in Journalism, New York University.

Enid squeals really high and pulls Wednesday up to her feet, dislodging Thing who scurries away with an offended meow.

She squeezes her girlfriend hard enough to cut her air flow.

Wednesday doesn’t complain. She just hugs her back.