Chapter Text
Wednesday thrived on routine.
She always had. And she’d perfected her own over the years.
It was a fine balance of strictness and liberties, with enough slots of undedicated free time that she could adjust her schedule should something more pressing come up that required her to sacrifice her precious time.
It had to be altered when she arrived at Nevermore. If not because of the new, inescapable sentient rainbow in her life, simply because she no longer shared close proximity to her family. No more twenty-minute slot of indeterminate torture designated for Pugsley, presumably to his disappointment.
At its crux, it was still the same, and carried all the regular tenets of the schedule of a teenage girl.
Consume sustenance. Practice hygiene. Periodically shut down to regain energy. Read for a minimum of sixty minutes per day so that her mind doesn’t go stale. Write for a minimum of sixty minutes per day to maintain her flow and keep her sane. Throw in a little taxidermy three times a week for pleasure.
And, the most recent addition: dedicate a solid portion of her evening to answering asinine questions from her roommate and tolerating hearing the sordid details of trivial social drama in order to maintain peaceful cohabitation.
There were time constraints for certain aspects of her routine.
Her writing hour began at 7 PM on the dot. That was a non-negotiable. Sleep occurred whenever she felt satisfied that she was finished with Viper for the evening.
Sometimes, a perfunctory sixty minutes of additions to her novel was all she’d manage. Other times, she would click and clack until she broached the unwavering boundary Enid had set after one too many incidents:
No typewriter usage after midnight.
Reasonable enough. Even if leaving her buzzing typewriter high and dry when she was on a roll made her sleep sour and unsatisfying.
Besides, Enid was not the only one who had established rules for the purpose of keeping the peace.
Seeing as Wednesday was not permitted to generate irritating noise after the clock struck twelve, she deemed it only fair to request the same of her housemate, who, generally speaking, went to sleep considerably later than her (sans the occasional nights she got too lost in the haven of her novel).
Really, her routine orbited around whatever her primary ambition was.
Usually, it was concocting an unnerving situation and plonking Viper in the middle of it to see how she witted her way out.
Recently, her focus had shifted.
And tonight, she was making use of one of her portions of free time.
Enid thrived on impulsiveness.
She always had. Even if select adults had tried to siphon it out of her and pump her up with something more productive.
Her mother was a prime example. But try as she might, no routine she tried to force on her daughter would last. Homework was never completed in the set time period. Bedtimes would be ignored (even if she paid the price the following morning). Exercise regimens put in place to help lure out her reluctant wolf (even though they were consistently useless) were delayed and complained through.
Enid Sinclair and structure were two opposing forces.
However, soon after beginning her student career at Nevermore, she was introduced to a much more potent opposing force that went by the name of Wednesday Addams.
When she discovered that her roommate had zero interest in her existence, she accepted it, figuring that she’d simply continue to live her life the way she had been and mutually ignore the new shadow cast over the other side of her dorm.
Unfortunately, Wednesday’s routine took up so much figurative space that she was sucked into its vortex.
Wednesday required silence to write her novel. Wednesday required occupancy of the bathroom from nine PM to ten. Wednesday required that all K-Pop was listened to on headphones, or not at all.
Wednesday was a control freak.
And even worse, Wednesday was rapidly becoming her friend, and fragrantly defying her routines was becoming untenable.
And even worse, Enid found that she wasn’t entirely bothered by Wednesday’s routine. Perhaps she didn’t require a personal one, and nobody required a routine as intricate as her roommate’s, but the extra dash of stability in her life wasn’t as disagreeable as she had always anticipated.
Somehow, even with the schedule, Wednesday Addams never failed to surprise her.
On the second week of their shared lodging, after nine days of identical evenings, Enid came home from dance club and an extended manicure session in Yoko’s room to find the dorm completely empty, including her new little friend, who was considerably easier to get along with than his headstrong relative.
Wednesday and Thing didn’t return until two AM. Enid only knew this because she had stayed up. After waiting, for four hours mind you, inquiring about her roommate’s moonlit excursion had only gotten her brushed off. The rushed apology from Thing tapped onto the shoulder he was hitching a ride on didn’t help much.
It eventually became clear that her roommate had gotten embroiled in investigating the unfolding local mystery. She eventually confessed this herself, if only so she could unwillingly bounce ideas off of Enid and show her disgusting, stolen crime scene photos that made her pass out.
Wednesday’s nightly disappearances became increasingly common (occasionally, she’d even tell Enid where she was going. If asked). Right up until her roommate’s expulsion. The night after: the blood moon, everything came to a crashing halt.
Wednesday personally solved the nefarious puzzle, prosecuted the two orchestrators of it, and essentially saved the school. Enid was honored to be able to offer an assist. And the night ended a lot better than it had started (Enid had been biding her time, trying to get Wednesday back in her arms. But nothing as poignant as a night of blood and chaos and wolfing out for the first time to save the life of her best friend had happened yet).
Then the new term started. And Wednesday was welcomed back with open arms (not Enid’s, yet) and multiple fan clubs, following a letter of reinstatement from a very grateful, recovering Principal Weems.
Second to the news of the miraculous reanimation of the presumed dead headmistress, Enid was simply relieved that it was all over. No more mysteries. No more justifications for Wednesday to sneak out and interfere with police investigations.
Or so she thought.
At least nobody had died this time.
Really, some episodic vandalism was small potatoes in comparison to the convoluted jigsaw that Wednesday was set on piecing together last year. But then again, Wednesday, by nature, still had a personal stake in this one. As did the whole school.
A string of destruction had cropped around Jericho, each act of petty crime carrying a consistent signature.
Smashed windows at Ed’s Pastries, with a messy graffiti doodle of a hatless gorgon drawn on the pavement by the scattered glass.
Slashed tires down at the Jericho Sheriff’s Department, with a very poor interpretation of a vampire scrawled directly atop the bonnets of the patrol cars.
And sprayed all over the vibrant face of Hawte Kewture was a disordered smattering of multicolored spray paint, a crude illustration of a werewolf dripping down the transparent front door.
In fairness, that one had violently triggered Enid.
Wednesday’s most burning theory was that a Normie was responsible for this, but framing the Outcasts to bring shame on their name, as if they needed more.
Her backup theory was that it was a moronic group of downtrodden classmates, taking out built-up resentment from a lifetime of oppression on select Normie organizations. Admirable in theory, but surely even her foolhardy peers weren’t stupid enough to add a signature to each misdemeanor pointing directly at their school like a giant fingerprint.
Hence, her original theory.
Whoever the perpetrators were, Nevermore had been thrown directly under the spotlight, and not in a positive way, and Wednesday couldn’t have it. Not while she was under the awning.
Again, it was no murder mystery. But Wednesday was never good at leaving well enough alone. Unlike Enid, who was royally done with all things illicit.
Unlike her first term with her new housemate, Enid didn’t return to the dormitory to find it unexpectedly vacant.
First, she had a feeling at dinner. An awful, tugging feeling. A suspicion, really.
The day before, she had begged, genuinely, pitifully begged, for Wednesday not to investigate the happenings in Jericho when she’d expressed an interest. Her friend had looked positively dumbfounded when the tears had started streaming. Admittedly, Enid felt the same. She hadn’t expected to cry. She hadn’t intended to. But apparently, the scars that the blood moon had left her with weren’t limited to her cheek.
The idea of Wednesday out there getting hurt again made it all resurface.
Sobbing with no warning or defensible reason, she’d made her promise not to investigate.
Wednesday had agreed.
Enid hoped it wasn’t just to placate her, and put a stop to the sudden onset of emotion that she detested so pathologically.
She was proved wrong/right when she crept upstairs halfway through her steak to find Wednesday half out the window, despite claiming that she was going to spend her evening reading in her chair. Frozen with her proverbial tail between her legs, she slinked back inside the room, quietly receiving a loud earful from Enid.
Wednesday had explained that she didn’t technically break the oath, as her exact words were “I promise that you will not catch me sniffing around Jericho”. And she hadn’t. She’d caught her hanging out the window.
The pitch of the earful got higher.
“I’m just saying, you guys seriously bicker like an old married couple,” Yoko proclaimed, her voice garbled through the O Negative blood congesting her mouth and the general cafeteria buzz. The sight of her sustenance didn’t make Enid feel as faint as it used to. She credited the desensitizing effect of living with Wednesday Addams, the topic of this evening’s dinner gossip.
“Are we gonna talk about this all night?” Enid whined into her steak, feeling more optimistic about finishing this one than last night’s.
“Yes,” The fang replied in unison with her girlfriend, who was sewn into her side, nibbling on a salad that made Enid’s inner wolf feel almost as nauseous as Yoko’s red meal made Human Enid.
“I could hear from you guys down the hall,” Yoko chortled, shoving her shades further up her nose. “Well, I could hear you.”
Enid swatted her upper arm with a disgruntled tut. It had no effect on her tickled demeanor.
“Divina could hear you all the way from Puck Hall.”
Enid’s canines malfunctioned, undigested meat trapped between her stationary teeth as she mumbled a muffled, “Really?”
“No!” The couple mutually denied. Enid wasn’t sure how they found the gall to talk about anybody else’s relationship when they were slowly becoming one compact unit with a collective hive mind.
“Are you really sitting here and telling us that Wednesday isn’t acting like a toxic husband?” Divina skeptically questioned, accepting Yoko’s arm into the crook of her own. It quivered with the paralyzing weight of her amusement.
“Wednesday is my friend,” Enid said exquisitely slowly so that the snorting, conjoined mutation could understand. “I’m not gonna sit here and… slander her. Everything’s fine. She understands this time. Loud and clear.”
The hive mind cut in at the same time, but with different digs.
“Emphasis on loud.”
“Men never understand, Enid.”
“Wednesday is not my husband!”
Enid had a history of immaculate timing. Hiding behind her steak proved ineffectual as the newly risen Principal strolled past, her passing face riddled with bemusement and something that looked strikingly similar to amusement. And most helpfully, the unapologetic guffawing from her tablemates had every head within a twenty-foot radius turning.
Another successful meal.
“She’ll understand, Thing. I’ve observed Enid being very reasonable. On four separate occasions.”
I hope she yells at you again.
A juvenile remark. But justified, considering the fact that she’d blackmailed him into joining her and zipping his metaphorical mouth.
And I hope I’m there to witness it, He pettily signed into the crunchy undergrowth as he traipsed ahead of his manipulative ward, dodging trees that looked like they were burning as they were backlit by the stark orange of the setting sun. The simmering planet would be sunk by the time the duo set foot and hand in town.
“I’ll ensure you’re in the line of fire with me,” She unabashedly assured, talking to the hand.
You cannot threaten me with nail abuse or imprisonment in your desk every time you want something. Visibly fuming, he shook a stray ant off his stump after unwittingly passing through a nest. Wednesday could see the proverbial steam rising from the punctures of his stitches. He uprooted a freshly bloomed spring flower and flicked it into a bramble bush.
“You pledged your undying loyalty to me,” She reminded, zipping up her oversized jacket as the cooling air nipped at her fingertips.
Under duress. I’m an exploited laborer. He flicked at the blades of grass. Some of them loomed over the top of his scampering little form.
The seer sighed and watched her breath enter the darkening forest atmosphere as mist. The frigid fall air was reluctant to dissipate even as the brown leaves turned green. “If they’re particularly exceptional, perhaps you’ll be rewarded for your efforts.”
Thing’s stride became unsubtly wooden, his vain blood pumping and his tail starting to wag.
Limited edition Chanel La Crème Main?
Wednesday huffed down at her relative. He could be so conceited. When it came to buying silence, she preferred to offer the stick than the carrot. “If you earn it.”
Thing ended up dramatically picking up the pace, and they made it to Jericho whilst the last specks of color were still dwindling out of the clear sky. The moon slowly faded into view, exchanging pleasantries with its vivid, orange cousin as it faded out, the sky a dull, washed-out yellow above them as they crossed the threshold of the pavement.
“The first incident occurred this way,” Wednesday told her suddenly focused family member. Thing loitered in the shadows as an elderly couple passed, and Wednesday didn’t care that it looked like she was chatting it up with thin air. “The current timeline indicates that our vandals are likely to commit their fourth malfeasance anytime from now to Thursday. They act when it’s dark, targeting Normie-owned establishments.”
Do you think it’s more than one person? Thing thoughtfully inquired.
“It would be a large undertaking for a single person. But I’m not ruling anything out until I can find some concrete evidence,” She explained, swinging around a sharp corner with her scuttling company in tow and giving the blurry image of the distant Sheriff’s department one of her time-honored scowls. Skulking around the station and inspecting the totaled cop cars was a non-starter if she was aiming to be covert. Hopefully, she would get what she needed from the other vandalized buildings. Curse their large windows. “I won’t be taking anything to Sheriff Galpin this time.”
Maybe he’s changed.
Wednesday’s scowl deepened at Thing’s treacherously optimistic statement.
“I can imagine that your firstborn receiving a life sentence before a driver’s license is a transformative event for any parent. Absent or otherwise.”
Apparently, her statement was a little too much for Thing, who froze in the shadows, evidently disappointed. If he was searching her face for remorse, he wasn’t going to find any.
“Perhaps he has changed,” She monotonously admitted, gesturing for him to keep on trotting. “That doesn’t mean he’s changed for the better.”
He sluggishly trailed after her. Who will you go to then? Principal Weems?
“If the perpetrator ends up being one of my peers, I’ll confront them myself. They all quiver at my feet or fall at them.”
Thing noiselessly scoffed at his relative. She could be so conceited.
And if it’s not a fellow student?
“Confront them with an ounce more caution,” She decided, her dark eyes locked on the invisible trail that led to the desecrated bakery they were closing in on.
Foolproof plan, She saw him walk-and-sign in her peripheral vision, the sloppiness of his digits a clear indicator of his sass. She turned the next corner as abruptly as she could. Confronting people went so well for you last time you were saving the day.
“I can handle any Normie that’s thrown at me,” The psychic insisted, not bothering to allow any ire to disrupt her even tone when she was so irrefutably correct.
Thing crossed his fingers. Wednesday could physically feel the palpable sarcasm rolling off him in crashing waves and had half a mind to boot him in front of the shrieking delivery truck clambering past them. But when it soared by, the face of a storefront was left in its wake, and her attention was instantaneously stolen.
The glass of the windows had been replaced with cardboard, shoddily duct-taped over the four holes. Wednesday scanned the street for loitering pedestrians before crossing the road, her shadow becoming harder to distinguish in the late evening hour.
“See what you can find.”
Thing obediently skittered away, running his pointer finger along a crack in the pavement. Wednesday took in the unremarkable bakery wall. It appeared exactly as the Jericho Ledger had depicted it. Predictably, the student gossip had exaggerated the destruction, as she didn’t see any char marks or defamatory words scrawled on the ripped, yellow awning.
She converged on the snake sigil on the ground, disappointed that her boots weren’t crunching on any glass. It must’ve been swept.
Her pant-covered knees met the concrete, and her uncovered hand floated over to the green paint. Before she could introduce her palm to it, she was interrupted by the thud of Thing’s as it slapped down on a drain.
Sit down properly, He signed, once he gathered her attention.
“Excuse me?”
You won’t figure this out if you crack your head on the pavement, Thing told his kneeling charge. You can do that once you’ve solved it.
She wordlessly heeded his veiled warning, swinging her legs around so that they were splayed out in front of her in a V-shape, the green doodle waiting for her between her feet. Thing bowed in approval, and Wednesday finally connected her fingers with the stained concrete. She had already loosened up her neck, as she had expected it to be rocked back with the punishing force of a vision. She had counted on it, actually.
Three dark figures flickered in front of her mind’s eye. They eventually solidified and molded, becoming distinctly human-shaped. Whoever they were, they weren’t exceedingly professional, loudly chortling away in the dead of night as they bashed the windows in with the barrels of several metal baseball bats.
The residents of this street must be ludicrously deep sleepers, Wednesday pondered, before coming to with her eyes pointed at the new sprinkling of stars. The sight was blocked by a nosy hand.
What did you see?
“Three vandals. Woefully inexperienced.” She straightened up, quickly surveying the street to check that they still had it to themselves. “Does Jericho High have a baseball team?”
Probably. They’re white Normies, Thing provided, after being unkindly launched off her shoulder.
“Time’s ticking.” She ascended from the ground, and Thing climbed up her leg like a spider would a drainpipe. “Enid will have just finished dinner.”
Do you really think that your closet subterfuge will work? He tapped onto her shoulder. Wednesday interpreted his communication purely by tactility.
“It’s a last resort, should time slip away from us. In all probability, I won’t need it to.
The defacement of Hawte Kewture was an improvement. She would never say as such to Enid’s face, there’d been enough yelling recently, but she couldn’t reject the innocuous thought.
What was once a peaceful, pale pink was now a kaleidoscopic visual cacophony of various monochromatic hues. Plonked in the centre was a simplified painted werewolf. It was anatomically inaccurate, almost like a caricature. More evidence that this was the work of a sour townie.
Wednesday lowered herself to the pavement before Thing could annoy her by ordering her to. She laid her hand on the head of the wolf and braced herself for the incoming vision.
The trio returned. She observed them as if through a security camera as they unceremoniously sprayed the face of the heinous store her roommate so deeply coveted. Nothing overly exposing was revealed to her until the very second before she was freed from the tight grip of her psychic episode.
The briefest, blurry flash of a car’s bonnet swam past her semi-conscious mind. She caught the tail end of the license plate. It definitely ended with a five. Preceding it was either an eight or a three. And it was grey. A dull, washed-out grey. She hadn’t seen enough to determine the make.
“Same people,” She described to her lieutenant the moment she rose. “They drove a grey, unidentifiable car. I caught at least one number from the license plate.”
That’s definitely something.
“It’s not enough.” Endlessly optimistic, she gracefully scrambled off the ground, little stones falling off her colorless clothes.
Not yet. He raised his thumb in a shrug. At least Enid won’t be back yet. You have time to note your findings.
Placated enough not to commit any vandalism herself, Wednesday presented her leg for Thing to mount, and began her trudge back to Nevermore when he’d perched on her shoulder like a parrot.
Does it involve murder?
“It can.”
Of a specific person?
“No.”
Was it made illegal this century?
“No.”
Was it originally intended to be defensive?
“Yes.”
Is your crime the placement of mantraps and spring guns?
“Correct. Your turn.”
Let me think.
As Thing took a moment of silence to select an illegal activity for his relative to guess as they made their way out of Jericho, Wednesday’s attention was swiped by a bizarre, indecipherable noise echoing through the alleyway they were passing by. She froze by the entrance of it. Abruptly; Thing almost went flying off her.
What is it?
She waited for a gust of wind, then sniffed the air like a bloodhound. A sharp, indisputable tinge poisoned the air. A mundane scent for most, but for Wednesday, the chemical stench of nearby paint carried with it whispers of opportunity. She could solve this all in a single night.
“Vandals.”
Let’s come up with a plan-
Aware of nothing but the vigorous pumping of her blood and her fixed destination, Wednesday slithered through the murky alleyway with a gesticulating hand on her shoulder. She peered around the corner, oblivious as Thing maneuvered himself onto her opposite shoulder to get a better view. Illuminated by a convenient lamppost was a triad of murmuring, bat-wielding youths. Wednesday felt her rushing blood start to burn.
Spying as the Normie teens roughhoused and snorted in the middle of the empty street, Wednesday should’ve been more satisfied that her initial theory was correct. But the hurtling fire in her veins had burned all her gratification to a smoldering crisp. She felt an irritating pressure on her neck and blinked down at her disrupting relative.
What is the plan?
“Confrontation,” She ground out, observing them as they stepped up to what was presumably a flower shop, based on the overflowing shrubbery and the potted plants strewn about by the entrance.
That’s not a plan, Thing concisely pointed out, backing up to use her neck as cover, crouched atop her jacket in a claw.
Although discreetly enjoying the show of the delinquents decapitating the heads of roses, Wednesday couldn’t let it be when she knew who would be taking the fall for it.
Rising to her full, unthreatening height and ignoring the taps of protest from Thing, Wednesday unthinkingly clasped the brick corner, about to slip past it. Only when she touched it, an electric sensation wriggled up her arm like a clew of intermingling worms. Her hand went slack with the rest of her. The only part of her that wasn’t flaccid was her neck. It stayed ramrod straight even as the back of her head connected with the concrete.
Enid plonked her crumby tray atop Divina’s, abandoning them in the pile that the kitchen staff would soon collect and hose down.
“It’s probably a werewolf thing,” Yoko theorized once they had reached the top of the staircase, leading the charge to her dorm, the designated hangout spot. Enid wished this were another manicure night instead of a homework one. “Dog brain.”
“I’m not that bad at math,” The fur defended, pottering inside the moody room and claiming her friend’s bed for herself. She might as well have said she hated ribeye. Divina stole the spot next to her, leaving a huffing Yoko alone on the floor. She deserved it.
“Is Wednesday good at math?” Divina inquired, peeling open her textbook and faux sobbing at the senseless contents.
“I think Wednesday’s good at everything,” She replied with a bashful shrug after a moment of dreamy pondering, feeling decidedly odd about the subject in a way she couldn’t quite place. Was she jealous? That didn’t seem to fit. Impressed, perhaps. Although, why that was making her fidget, she had no idea.
“Except honesty,” The siren muttered.
“Our useless little savant,” Yoko chimed in with zero subtlety, a hand over her heart as she wistfully shook her head. Said head was immediately walloped by a flying pen. “Ow! Werewolf strength, Enid!”
“Good.” The fur didn’t spare her a glance up from her work. Even though it might as well have been written in Chinese.
“Yeesh.” Yoko finally dragged out her own cobweb-crusted algebra book. “Don’t poke the wolf.”
“Is Wednesday coming to your dance showcase this time?” Divina asked from her left. Enid couldn’t help but notice that all of her questions were Wednesday-related.
“I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t ask her at all,” Yoko recommended, tugging the lid off her ballpoint with her fangs. “A bit of reverse psychology. Considering what happened last time…”
“And the time before,” The scale unhelpfully added, as if Enid didn’t distinctly recall the empty seat that taunted her from the crowd for the entirety of her last two performances.
“I’m going to ask her,” She resolutely declared, flipping the page with the vain hope that the succeeding one would be easier to decipher. “And she’s going to be there. Things are different now. After…”
“HugGate?” Divina popped up again.
She rolled her eyes. “After everything.”
Her friends were tellingly silent, making eyes with each other skeptically.
“I know she wasn’t the perfect friend last year,” Enid admitted, pulling away from the stifling orbit of her homework. “But is her saving of the school seriously not enough proof for you guys? She’s changed. I’m serious. Can you just trust me on this one? Until you see it for yourselves?”
“Well, we’ll have a chance to on Saturday, right?” The vampire said after a beat, removing her sunglasses to punctuate her rare severity. “If she’s really changed, she’ll be there.”
“She’ll be there,” Enid assured, sharing eye contact with Yoko without the usual translucent plastic barrier between them.
The vampire relented with a shrug, evidently dubious. But that was fine. Enid had faith, even if Yoko didn’t. She had more than simple belief actually, she had trust. Wednesday would pass this test.
Wednesday would- Wednesday was- Wednesday was in the dorm, right?
There was no ambiguity to the promise she’d forced her to make last night.
I promise I will not investigate the vandalism in Jericho.
No loophole to slither through. No gap to shuffle past. Nothing. If she were in town right now, she will have plainly broken a promise.
Wednesday wouldn’t. She trusted that Wednesday wouldn’t. So why was that sinking feeling back in full force?
It stuck with her like an unwanted guest for the full hour she spent pretending to understand algebra in Yoko’s. She wanted to investigate the second the feeling descended into her gut, but considering the fact that she’d just been trying to convince her friends of her roommate’s integrity, she’d surely seem like a massive hypocrite.
This was completely different anyway, she tried to convince herself, as she eventually made the trek back to her own room.
Wednesday’s obsessions didn’t directly correlate with her stake in their friendship. Even if she was potentially lying, it didn’t mean that she didn’t care. Criminal activity just captivated her attention. It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t come to the showcase.
Regardless, she was getting all twisted up about a hypothetical. Thing had also made a promise. He would keep an eye on Wednesday and inform Enid should she slip away again. If her trust for Wednesday hovered around the 50 percent mark, her trust in Thing sat at a solid 90. And this was purely about sneaking out and getting into hijinks.
Her trust in her friendship with Wednesday was an easy 100.
However, if she were to enter her room and find Wednesday’s side of it vacant, that did not mean she would not hit the ceiling.
Shuffling toward the second floor staircase that led only to her and Wednesday’s tower room, she was mentally preparing herself for anything. Because, for all their talk of Wednesday being good at everything back at Yoko’s, if Enid had to select her peak skill, it would be keeping her on her toes.
But, as she traipsed to the end of the corridor and slapped a hand onto the bannister, it wasn’t Wednesday that surprised her. It was a sound.
The building was old. It wasn’t uncommon to hear it generate noise. Especially at night, which always terrified 14-year-old Enid. 17-year-old Enid was more than used to it; however, the dainty, animalistic purr was not a sound she had ever heard from the dilapidated inner piping of the academy before.
Nor was the pattering of soft footsteps, thumping closer and closer.
Enid made her own sound, something between a gasp, a scoff and a coo.
“How did you get in here?” She asked in awe, converging on the tense, miniature animal. The fur bent down at a polite distance, hoping that her werewolf scent wouldn’t spook the already timid feline. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m a friend. I promise I won’t eat you.”
The collarless cat stared up at her with unblinking eyes that didn’t quite meet her face. Her pupils were big and undiluted black in color, which matched her scruffy fur. They sat in the middle of a green sclera, like a dark rock floating in the centre of a swamp.
She was gnawingly adorable. Not quite a kitten, but certainly not fully grown. Enid didn’t know how she could have gotten through the front doors without being caught by faculty, let alone traveled all the way to Ophelia Hall. Perhaps she took Thing’s sneaky route.
Enid pouted in pity as the scrawny cat shrank away from her extended hand. “I’m sorry. How long have you been here, anyway? You hungry?”
She looked hungry. She looked malnourished, actually, even with all of the dark, engulfing fluff.
Enid spun her head around and peered up the staircase that waited behind her. She squinted at the nervous little trespasser, but she didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere.
Crossing her fingers, Enid stood up; slowly, as to not startle her new friend. She took off her pink and black jacket in the same calm manner, then cautiously laid it out on the floor near the black cat.
“I’ll be right back, ok? Wait right here.”
As soon as she was a safe distance from the cat, she shot into a sprint, thundering up the stupidly long staircase. She burst into her room, then yanked open her drawer, then dashed right back out. Just about to descend the steps at a dangerous speed, she froze with the packet of chicken-bites swinging in her grip.
The dorm was empty.
With her lungs working double time, she whipped back around and charged back inside to check that Wednesday hadn’t simply been blending in with the shadows again.
Stagnant in the dead centre of the dorm, Enid felt a profound disappointment trying to drown her. She was almost pulled under, but a wave of anger tossed her out onto the shore. And then a gunshot of relief gave her a euphoric case of whiplash.
Wednesday’s closet door was shut. It was only ever shut when she was in there. When she wasn’t, it was only left near-shut, with a one-inch crack left between the door and the hinge.
Possibly one of the most random parts of Wednesday’s routine, but Enid had never been so happy that she’d accidentally memorized it all.
“Hi, Wednesday!” She elatedly greeted her through the door. “I’ll be back in a minute, and I might have something really awesome to show you!”
She threw herself back down the stairs and, for the second time in 60 seconds, experienced the full spectrum of emotions.
The cat wasn’t there. And then it was. Enid giggled, realizing it had simply elected to rest on the thin, black arm of her jacket, instead of the comfier pink inside.
She giggled some more, mentally noting the similarities between the cat and her roommate.
Wednesday really wanted the poking to stop. She groaned at it. Then she really wanted all sound to stop. So when it prodded at her cheek again, she simply backhanded the intrusion away, whatever it was.
What it was, apparently, was relentless, continuing its flagrant assault on the other side of her unmoving face.
Perhaps it would be in her best interests to determine the identity of her assailant. But surely if they were going to murder her, they would have done so already. So, really, what was the harm in waiting for another few minutes? Just until the pressure in her skull had lessened, and that intermittent bell stopped blaring in her ears.
Her eyes fell open without her permission when a smooth, velvety palm walloped her across the jaw. For some reason, she had expected to be greeted with glaring light, but the dull, navy evening stung her reanimated pupils just as much. She naturally glanced down at the only thing around her that was moving and spotted Thing.
She was unexpectedly relieved when she placed his identity, as she couldn’t place where she was or what was happening.
“Thing.”
For a second, I thought you might have met a very undignified death, He slowly signed onto the ground, a light tremble working its way through his fingers. It signified that she had been on the floor in her compromised state for an interminably long time, and Thing had either caught a chill, or succumbed to something not physically damning, but that more malicious, emotive kind.
“Maybe next time,” Wednesday mundanely uttered, although she had no idea what had happened this time. She spread her digits on the unpliable ground at both her sides, then pushed off the stone, shakily maneuvering herself into a sit. She immediately flopped back over like a wilting sunflower, only spared another thump to the head by two inhumanly strong digits supporting the weight of her back. Thing lowered his charge back down to the floor of the alley.
The night is still young. He uselessly spun himself around, his nervousness palpable. What happened in your vision?
Wednesday’s sore eyes were moistened by a rare blink. She couldn’t remember any vision. But the mere word at least granted her the memory of what she was doing out in Jericho tonight.
She was investigating the vandalism. She had Thing’s company and confidence after blackmailing him, which was perfect, because Enid was convinced she had the same, and could trust his slippery word. And, of course, Enid couldn’t find out about any of this. Which was why Wednesday had planned to be back at Nevermore by 10 PM at the latest.
A hapless vision must have been the culprit for her disoriented state. It wasn’t the first time she’d thwacked her head against a solid surface, but her brain usually wasn’t affected after a minor jostling.
It was a genetic thing. Uncle Fester said Addams’ brains were like shoes. They worked better when they were worn in a little. Well-loved. Sometimes he gave himself concussions when his brainstem felt a little stale or his thoughts were uninspired. He specifically described his brain as a rubber ball. If it bounced against a surface, it would bounce right back even stronger.
Wednesday’s brain did not feel like a rubber ball. It felt more like a cracked egg. She wondered if any yolk had spilled out onto the concrete.
Now that the plan had returned to her room of recollection in the damaged structure of her head, Wednesday needed to figure out what stage she was at and reestablish her bearings.
“What time is it?”
Concerned, he nudged her wrist by her watch. She turned her heavy head and slowly read the time it displayed. She was even slower to realize that the hour handle was teetering near ten.
“We need to get back.” She felt distinctly irked as her words spewed out with a profound lack of haste. Her sluggish lips clearly didn’t understand the harsh time constraint she was under.
Wednesday, can you even sit up?
“Of course.”
Are you just saying that?
“Of course not.”
Wednesday sat up again. This time, she pulled at the pebbly floor with a measly grip instead of pushing off it. She swayed like a flag post in gale-force winds before crumpling over like a wet piece of paper. She had the foresight to slump forward instead of backwards this time.
Enid saw two ears twitch as she tore open the snack packet. She popped one of the chicken pieces in her mouth. Just to check they were… safe, then tipped a few more into her palm.
“Here. You’re gonna love these,” She informed the cat mid swallow, tipping the beige chunks of meat onto the sleeve of her jacket where the animal loafed, then cautiously withdrawing her hand.
Big, inky pupils tepidly swept over the feast. A little whiskered nose, black like the rest of her, inched forward, giving the chicken an olfactory inspection. Her tongue sprouted out, a distinct pop of color against the shadow of a feline, and scooped one of the lumps into her mouth.
Enid smirked in victory as she observed her quickly going in for more, evidently realizing how hungry she was.
“Told you. Good, huh?” She chuckled as the cat polished off her pile and tipped out a few more. “Don’t worry. Yoko got me ten whole bags for my birthday last week.”
Isolated pieces of chicken dropped into her salivating maw as she ate with her shaggy pal for a few minutes. In an effort to establish trust, she poured some food into her open palm and set it down in the cat’s line of sight. When she realized the human was not simply dropping off another delivery, the cat begrudgingly edged closer to the limb, secure enough to eat off her hand.
“See? Just a friend,” She reassured her, not risking rushing into any unwanted physical contact (she had some experience), but allowing the cat to sniff her fingers and suss her out. She pouted at the leaves littering her fur. “You thirsty?”
Descending the stairs with a basin of water was surely a recipe for disaster. Ordering the cat to stay put and pouring the remaining chicken onto her jacket, she zipped back up the stairs and then manifested back down in the hall with a fresh, sealed packet.
It only took forty seven interminable minutes to lure the cat up to the dorm with a trail of chicken and endless coaxing.
Restless, Thing waited on the landing as Wednesday slothfully conquered another row of steps. His anxiousness was poorly hidden, tapping on the floor like he was tickling the keys of a piano, playing a very up-tempo melody.
“Thing, run ahead and survey the room. Don’t get caught,” She wearily demanded, a death grip on the granite bannister as she ploddingly gained on the looming balcony. “If she’s there, you’ll have to send her on a wild goose chase so I can sneak in.”
He picked at the ground, timidly. Will you be ok?
“If I do end up toppling down the stairs, your presence, or lack thereof, will not change the likelihood of my death.”
Thank you for the reassurance. I’ll carry that with me, He sardonically signed at her before mounting the bannister and skittering to a higher altitude.
She regretted spinning her orbs around in exasperation when it rekindled the fire in the back of her head. It nipped at her skull and melted the bone, bleeding into her brain and eyes. She moved slowly upwards, keeping her eyes closed to dull the flames and blindly guiding herself with an extended arm on the granite wall. Until the pattering of fingertips returned.
It’s empty.
Her newly opened eyes narrowed. She would’ve bet on the dorm being occupied. Although, Enid had been doing math homework tonight, which wasn’t exactly her forte, so perhaps she’d taken extra time to ensure she understood the work. Or perhaps, more characteristically, she’d simply procrastinated through it.
“Did you check her closet?”
What do you take me for?
With the unexpected news that she was going to get away with this excursion without further deception, Wednesday walked with a renewed spirit, now managing the pace of an elderly person instead of a snail.
Contorting herself through the window, an action that had been seamless and automatic the previous three hundred times she did it, Wednesday surely resembled some kind of clumsy hunchback.
She didn’t have long to set the scene. It was past ten PM, which meant she should either be winding down or writing. With her pre-planned outing today, she’d spent the precise minimum of 60 minutes romping with her typewriter, then promptly departed.
Thing had ambled ahead of her, executing a practiced parkour jump from the frame of her bed to the handle of her closet, sending the door flying open. Wednesday dutifully trailed in. If it hadn’t been a personal risk to her, she would’ve walked purposefully slower to irritate him. But they were in the same boat, desperately trying to avoid the same blonde iceberg. They could come crashing into it at any second.
Wednesday changed into her nightwear without interruption (if you didn’t count the muted sound of Thing’s nervous pacing from outside the door), relieved that she had no visible evidence of injury (which, in turn, meant no visible evidence of having left the dormitory). Thank you, blunt force trauma.
She safely made it to her desk to begin her evening notes. During the walk back from Jericho, she’d informed Thing that they would go over what they had discovered tomorrow when Enid was at her dance club. It was too dangerous tonight. Her roommate was nosy to a fault, and her werewolf hearing was disproportionately powerful.
She was grateful that she’d had the foresight to blackmail Thing. Hopefully, he could fill in the gaps that had formed in her bruised brain.
Fingers used the handles of her desk drawers as a ladder. One concussion closer to Fester.
Wednesday elected to adopt Thing’s style of communication instead of fracturing the soothing quiet. It was imminently going to be crushed by a blonde disco ball, and the concussed psychic wanted to enjoy the final, dwindling scraps. I’ll never catch up to his record.
That might be for the best. It’s an enviable number, but you need all your IQ points. I think he loses a few every time.
Wednesday tilted her head in pondering, then painfully snapped it straight as she heard the door open. The subsequent thudding of Enid’s yellow sneakers on the hardwood flooring didn’t follow as it typically did, which spurred Wednesday to suspiciously turn around in her chair. She ignored her brain as it pulsed in protest.
There was a sizable gap, but the door wasn’t open all the way. Not enough room to fit a human through, but there was space enough for a chunk of chicken to fly into the dorm and slap down on the floor. A scraggly black cat followed suit, halting by the meat and efficiently nibbling it up.
Wednesday’s eyelids pulled together wearily. How much torture could she be expected to endure in one night?
“Do you see her?!”
“Yes.”
The entrance burst open all the way. Enid all but somersaulted inside, exuberantly kicking the door closed with her foot, her fluffy jacket draped over her shoulder.
“Isn’t she just the cutest?!” The she-wolf asked, presumably rhetorically, vibrating inhumanly.
“On what scale?” Wednesday answered anyway, arriving at her friend’s side to inspect the visitor and feign normalcy. Her head continued to passionately resist.
“Look at her!” Enid stage whispered, ecstatically shaking Wednesday’s dangling arm, probably unaware that she was giving her vertigo.
Her eyes were blatantly fixed on the unexceptional creature. “I am.”
“She hates color too,” Enid was excited to point out, beaming down at the animal as it sniffed at the meat residue on the floor.
“Did she tell you that?”
Thing trotted over and entered the ridiculous bubble, eye-level with the unidentified feline.
“I found her downstairs in the hall,” She explained, although it did not explain why she had coerced the cat into their shared living space. “Where do you think she came from? How do you think she got in here?”
“She must’ve evaded the security cameras and hopped the lasers,” Wednesday sardonically replied, watching with expertly concealed amusement as Thing was defensively pawed at by the presumably abandoned cat. He retreated behind Enid’s legs for safety.
“She’s a little nervous,” She said by way of apology. “She’s all skinny, too. Probably needs some actual cat food.”
Thing dashed to use his relative’s legs as cover from the beast as Enid’s disappeared, rushing to her desk and tugging open a drawer. Wednesday’s eyes flitted between the dark feline and her roommate’s shrinking form. She peered down at the cowering hand with a cocked brow.
Don’t. She’s bear-sized for me.
“I’m gonna get her some water.” With the slam of a door, Enid had suddenly vanished.
The two Addams stared at the cat.
Her scruffy head angled toward the door, her overgrown fur bouncing around. Wednesday’s headache screamed as the cat did. Thing flinched behind her ankles. Enid eventually came back with a bowl full of tap water and placed it in front of the cat with a maniacal grin.
“There you go. Are you thirsty?”
She spared a quick glance at her roommates from her crouched position by the cat, then her face doubled back, donning a bemused smile, when she noticed their stupefied appearances. “What?”
“She was generating noise.”
“What noise?”
Wednesday almost winced as the stupid question caused her sensitive mind physical anguish. She became abruptly aware of her cumbersome exhaustion. “She opened up a dialogue about the unseasonal Vermont weather.”
“Huh?” Enid muttered, her focus split between two guarded creatures.
“She’s a cat, Enid,” Wednesday tiredly reminded, resisting the urge to bring a hand to the throbbing bump hiding in the shrubbery of her scalp. “They only make one sound.”
She scoffed at the needless but unsurprising attitude from above her, but softened as she looked below and observed the little feline driving its tongue into the water and lapping it up. “Well, was it a happy sound?”
Registering that it was an emotional question, she turned to her relative for his opinion. It was only wiser than hers on this single, nuanced subject.
Thing peeked out from the safety of her pajama-clad shin. I think she missed you.
Wednesday suddenly wished she hadn’t handed the proverbial mic to Thing, as the high-pitched ‘aww’ that screeched out of her roommate’s mouth almost prematurely ended her life. Her brain was surely liquified, leaking out her ears, which were still dully ringing with discordant notes.
“That’s so sweet!”
“When is she leaving?” Any lingering patience for the interloper had just shattered and died.
“Well,” Feeling antsy, Enid fidgeted with the frayed edges of her left sleeve, “It’s pretty late. She has to at least stay the night…”
“Tomorrow morning then,” Wednesday decided for her, disquieted by the wet noises coming from the clearly parched mammal.
“Yeah."
Perhaps if Wednesday’s skull wasn’t splintering, she would have picked up on the disturbingly noncommittal tone from her roommate. Alas, she merely shuffled over to her alcove, grateful to be back under the shelter of the shadows. Thing bolted from the fuzzy intruder, slamming the door to his own miniature domicile shut. The sound of a lock snapping echoed throughout the dorm.
Before she could slip inside her bed and let the duvet force her under the vast, surging surface of sleep, Wednesday stilled as she heard the soles of Enid’s shoes treading closer, following. Unless her friend’s sneakers had become sentient and trod over by themselves, she was likely standing behind her.
“Um, can I talk to you about something?”
Wednesday spun around so smoothly it was like her feet were wheels. Her passive outside demeanor opposed her alert insides. This could be about anything, so there was no need for her heart to be thudding like a jackhammer. She couldn’t know. “You have the physical capacity to.”
“Right.” She folded up her jutted lips, nodding in acceptance of the technicality. “Did you know that my dance showcase is coming up?”
If she had once known, the rampant concussion had wiped away her retention of it. “I did not.”
“This weekend,” She enlightened her terse friend with the details. “Saturday at four. I know that’s one of your free little nuggets of time, so…”
Wednesday did not appreciate the verbal infantilization of her routine. However, it quickly dawned on her that Enid’s evasive bumbling was actually a poor effort at gifting her an invitation. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Unfortunately, it was the first time Wednesday felt a crushing weight of something akin to responsibility, putting an oppressive pressure on her chest (she felt one in her head too, but there was no correlation).
“My reserved slots of free time are intended for my most pressing affair in that precise moment in time,” She passively stated, lingering in the darkness whilst Enid didn’t quite breach its border.
“Yes,” The blonde confidently acknowledged. She was quite aware.
“When Saturday arrives, I will determine what that is,” Wednesday evenly explained, not appreciating Enid’s emerging grin, growing from something covert to something big and bold.
She shook away her smirk, exchanging it for a wink. “Right. I gotcha. We’ll just see what happens.”
Wednesday’s eyeballs flit from left to right. Her blunt brainache became sharp. “Yes.”
“Exactly,” Enid nodded. “We’ll see. On the day.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I know, I’m agreeing.”
“But-“
“Goodnight, Wednesday,” She chirped, fleeing Wednesday’s territory in a skip, pausing by the cat to check on her progress with the water.
The raven watched the aggravating scene, noting a thick, uncomfortable sense of resignation circuiting her vascular system like a sludge.
Wednesday evenly exhaled to soothe her temper and climbed into bed. Her temper waxed when it occurred to her she couldn’t put pressure on the back of her tender skull. Lying on her side for the first time in twelve years, she came to the plaguing realization that the idea of shattering Enid’s expectant heart into tiny, meaty fragments sat worse with her own dark heart than being subjected to twenty pirouetting teenagers spinning around to the harrowing tunes of twenty-first-century pop in neon leotards for one hundred and twenty minutes.
Recognizing what she had become was enough to ward off sleep.
It would never be said that Wednesday Addams was optimistic. But there was a difference between hope and expectation. In an effort to subdue herself to sleep as she tuned out the piercing sound of her roommate yapping away to a surely uninterested feline, she pictured the best-case scenario for the following morning.
Like some of Fester’s more minor concussions, the brunt of her head injury will have diminished when she woke up. The cat will be gone along with all the traces of it, and Enid will hold zero suspicions of tonight’s dubious activities.
Her heavy head felt lighter as she succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness.