ã€ŠHis Pigtailed Crucible of Fateã€‹


 Wednesdays Child Is Full of Woe (Part One)

    She cut through the crowded school corridor like a shadow, passing through a sea of colorful garments, pinned backpacks and brand logos ¡ª the collective effort of impressionable teenagers to fit in amongst their banal social cohort. Wednesday Addams'' only concern ¡ª dressed head to toe in black ¡ª was that she was not distinctenoughfrom the other buffoons her age. She rounded the corner and turned toward her locker ¡ª two bubblegum-chewing girls leant against it, preventing her access. One of them belonged to Wednesday''s English class, and based on her endless yammering about it from the back row last period, was insecure about her new haircut.

    Wednesday stood in front of them with her arms folded, sporting a hostile glare.

    They looked her up and down with a snicker.

    ¡°What could you possibly need from in here, weirdo?¡± one of them jabbed, ¡°I know you don¡¯t have any makeup to reapply.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably where she keeps her imaginary boyfriend tied up,¡± the other chimed in snarkily.

    Wednesday was unfazed.

    "No, I had a paper bag I thought you could use to cover your hairdresser''s mistake," she retorted.

    The girl straightened up, looking as though she might protest, but simply rolled her eyes and turned to her friend.

    "C''mon, she probably has her own special type of food or something," she mocked.

    "See you in cafeteria, loser, hope you find somebody to sit with today," the other jeered as they both vacated from Wednesday''s locker.

    She didn''t bother returning their remarks, stepping toward her double-padlocked locker and breaking inside. Her school textbooks lay tattered at the bottom underneath a spare pair of boots, though she imagined Nancy Reagan High would take less of an issue with that than with the pet she was keeping on the top shelf.

    Wednesday reached into the waist-pocket of her dress and pulled out a ziplock bag containing two dead crickets she''d caught earlier. She deftly opened the lid of the terrarium she had on the top shelf, slid them inside and then closed the lid again. Inside, from behind a stone and a twig, a full-sized Hogna Carolinensis wolf spider emerged to secure its new feast, eliciting a small smile from Wednesday.

    "Good boy, Kessler," she murmured, slamming the locker shut. She was aware that any at this school who held ire toward her might try to take it out on the innocent spider, so she did her best to keep him hidden.

    Her stomach grumbled.

    ''Time for another disappointing meal...''she thought to herself, turning and begrudgingly heading for the cafeteria. Jet-black braids hugged her slender shoulders as she marched, her dead-eyed gaze locked on her straight-line path. Nothing, nor no one, at this prison of a school elicited her attention ¡ª she imagined she''d find the walls of anactualprison more interesting.

    Reaching the hall and taking her tray, she examined her lack of options: a rectangle slice of pizza, a helpful of corn, a container of peach slices suspended in juice, and a carton of chocolate milk.

    ''If the school were attempting to poison us, it''d be able to do it purely out of the banality of these meals...'' she grimaced.

    She turned and surveyed for an empty table. While the buffoon from earlier was technically correct about her typically sitting alone for meals, Wednesday certainly didn''t desire otherwise. She''d found that the experience of sitting among other students usually involved vapid conversation and occasionally having flecks of food spat on her by teenagers who apparently hadn''t yet learned to keep their mouths closed while eating.

    She quickly spotted a person with whom she didn''t actually mind sharing a table, and took a seat at the opposite corner from them.

    Pugsley Addams appeared not to notice her sit down, in the midst of chewing. He held an uneaten Twinkie in one hand.

    "How on earth can you stand eating those things, Pugsley?..." she asked her brother stonily.

    He looked up from his meal. He had recently taken to using gel to spike up his hair as though he were a punk-rocker. Though he likely adopted the look purely based on his enthusiasm for spiky things generally.

    Pugsley met her eyes and gave a lackadaisical shrug.

    "The creamy filling?" he suggested.

    She gave an expression of aversion.

    A group of boys wearing letterman jackets passed by Pugsley''s side of the table, one of them carelessly bumping shoulders with him. The boy jerked his head around and locked his gaze on Pugsley.

    "Hey, fatass!" he scolded, "even the table can''t hold all of you, you''re leaking out into the aisle!"

    The rest of his group joined in a chorus of snickering and laughter.

    Pugsley appeared to genuinely find finishing the rest of his meal more interesting than engaging with his antagonizer.

    Wednesday however, stood up and glared the boy''s way. He looked to be a football player, but somewhat more slender in frame than his friends.

    "How''d your father feel the first time you wore that jacket home, considering you barely fill out the sleeves?¡± she mocked.

    The boy turned and narrowed his eyes at her, but said nothing. Too early to tell whether she¡¯d successfully struck a nerve.

    He turned back to Pugsley.

    "You need your freak sister to stand up for you, that right, butterball?" he continued. He leant a little closer.

    "Or is she really your girlfriend?" he said with as much vitriol as he could muster.

    The boy suddenly jolted upright, raising his hand to his neck with a look of panic. His hand found the handle of a metal fork, jutting out of his neck.

    Pugsley glanced up out of curiosity at the commotion, and then back at Wednesday, who returned a smirk.

    The boy began screaming and hopping around, eventually bursting out of the cafeteria with a wail, his cohort trailing after him and offering to pull the throwing weapon out of his neck.

    Pugsley giggled.

    "Well, this school was fun while it lasted," he shrugged, steadfastly returning to his meal.

    Indeed, expulsion due to poor behavior was a feat with which the two siblings had both had repeated experiences.

    ''Not all had been quite as satisfying,''she thought to herself as she continued to watch the boy she''d impaled shriek down the corridor.

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    Another bend snaking through a suspiciously unoccupied forest road caused Wednesday to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her spider, Kessler, lay atop her lap in his terrarium. She looked up at her parents as they both nodded their heads to Strauss''Voices of Spring Waltzplaying on the car stereo. Her father, Gomez, caught her glance.

    "Wednesday!" he said, ever-bombastically, ¡°A new type of glum, is it?¡± He gestured toward her disposition. ¡°This isn¡¯t your usual melancholy¡­?¡±

    "It''s only the extended car ride, father," she grimaced.

    He pursed his top lip, his pencil-thin mustache twitching with it, before turning to the lumbering, pale man playing chauffeur.

    "Lurch!" he exclaimed jovially in his Castilian accent, "not so tight on the corners,ay? My poor daughter is on the verge of puking, all over us! ¡ª I just had this suit pressed!"

    Wednesday let out a small grin in amusement as her father winked back at her.

    Her mother Morticia placed a hand on her husband''s shoulder.

    "This is the final road, my love," she reminded him.

    Wednesday met her mother''s gaze for a moment.

    "Wednesday, your hair, please," Morticia implored.

    "What?..." she replied.

    Morticia made a gesture at her right side, leading Wednesday to find that one of her braids had loosened.

    "You know I''m not typically this way, Wednesday," she continued, "but understand, please, that the opportunity to have you sent to this school is a personal favor to me by an old acquaintance ¡ª as horrid as it may seem, gratitude may be the only way to ensure it."

    Wednesday partially rolled her eyes.

    "Forgive me, mother," she began facetiously, "but I struggle to understand the intensity of your desire to have me sent here."

    "At a time," Morticia said after a pause, "we did wonder whether having a more...normalupbringing might have been better for you, Wednesday, but... well, now that we find ourselves at this crossroad, we do feel that¡ª"

    Morticia looked at Gomez warmly. "Well, Nevermore is aspecialplace..."

    The two clasped hands. Wednesday cringed and turned away, peering out of the window instead.

    At that moment the car approached a wrought-iron gate, which read "NEVERMORE ACADEMY." It opened automatically for them, though no gate guard appeared to have been present to observe their arrival.

    Though Wednesday possessed many talents, magical ability was not among them. She wondered whether this might put her at a disadvantage against whatever these other students were that she was about to be thrown in with.

    She glanced over at the empty car seat next to her. For once, she''d managed not to get her brother in trouble for her own antics ¡ª Pugsley had avoided expulsion and was to remain at Nancy Reagan High. She was fairly certain he''d get on fine without her, despite the inordinate amount of time she typically spent fending off his bullies ¡ª he wasn''t the type to let the opinions of others get to him, nor could he be pushed around easily. Wednesday hoped she might have had a hand in shaping his resilience, though it was more likely just an Addams family trait.

    Of course, Wednesday couldn''t help but feel that life at this new school might be fractionally more unpleasant without her childhood companion there for her to bother.

    They passed a pair of ornamental stone gargoyles and reached the end of the drive, where Lurch pulled around and parked in front of what could only be described as a victorian-gothic castle, complete with a set of mechanical clock towers, aggressively steeped mansard roofs, and no inch of stone wall left bare of its anachronistically ornate masonry.

    For the first time that day, Wednesday''s interested had been piqued.

    Gomez hopped out first, holding the door open for Morticia with one hand, and lighting up a cigar with the other.

    "Oh, this is turning into a beautiful day, Gomez," Morticia exalted as she stepped out of the vehicle, in response to the overcast weather and looming storm clouds.

    Wednesday hopped out with her terrarium under one arm, carrying her trunk with the other. Smelling the dew in the frigid air, she had to agree with her mother that the day was turning for the better. Her next sight made her doubt this conclusion, however.

    A tall, slender woman, perhaps even beating out Morticia in stature, flung both entry doors open and marched over to greet them with an overwrought smile. She had blonde, cropped hair, thick red red lipstick and sported a plush, white business skirt and jacket combo, in stark contrast to the three dark-outfitted Addams'' she strode over to meet with.

    "Morticia!" she exclaimed with outstretched arms.

    "Larissa, dear," Morticia leant in and gave a polite kiss on the cheek, but did not return her full embrace.

    "It was so nice to hear from you again over the telephone, after all these years," Larissa Weems said warmly, as Morticia nodded with a smile.

    "And Gomez!" Larissa continued, as Gomez planted a kiss on her outstretched hand, making her a little flushed.

    "Oh¡ª thank you! My, you both look just as you once did," she continued, now turning to Wednesday, who met her gaze with dead eyes.

    "And you must be young Wednesday," she beamed, clasping her hands together, "I must admit, I am a sucker for unique names ¡ª was that your doing Morticia?"

    Morticia smiled graciously in confirmation, glancing toward her husband. "Gomez would have had us name herWoebegoneAddams."

    Gomez guffawed. "Perhaps if another daughter blesses us!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    The two exchanged a moment, taking one another''s hand.

    Wednesday was ready for this ordeal to be over.

    "Oh, well it was a most wonderful choice," Larissa continued, "and such a pretty¡ª"

    She noticed the terrarium under Wednesday''s arm. "Oh, you have a friend with you... that''s¡ª"

    The sound of the hour chime rung out in a cacophonous chorus, with both clock towers striking at the same moment.

    Larissa glanced over and then back. "That''ll be the end of first period. Perhaps we ought not spend too much longer becoming reacquainted, I''m sure Wednesday is itching to get settled¡ª"

    "Oh, certainly," Morticia agreed, "those would be my thoughts exactly. Gomez, please, help Wednesday with her trunk."

    Wednesday begrudgingly handed it to her father and followed the party through the oak doors and into the entry foyer of the building.

    Further down the hall, she observed various crowds of students in deep purple uniforms scurrying off to their next classes. They seemed to all look like regular children, for the most part.

    Larissa turned back to face her.

    "Your mother and I were quite the model students back in our day, Wednesday, does she ever tell you the stories?" she beamed.

    "None that mentioned you," Wednesday replied plainly.

    Morticia blushed slightly.

    "Oh, Wednesday never listens to her mother''s stories, though I''ve no doubt told them," she lied.

    Larissa gave a polite laugh.

    "Well, Wednesday, as a mid-term enrollee there is quite a bit on which to get you up to speed ¡ª perhaps you''d like to make your goodbyes," she suggested.

    "Not particularly," Wednesday stonily replied.

    Gomez let out a hearty laugh.

    "Isn''t she a riot!? Come here, my dear," he grinned, stepping over and hugging her.

    She returned her father''s embrace, squeezing him tightly.

    "We shall see you again, before term''s end, no doubt," he winked, as Wednesday nodded with a slight smirk.

    He traded places with Morticia, who bent down to be close to her.

    Morticia simply looked her up and down for a moment.

    "Wednesday... unlike your previous schools, you will find that maiming or seriously injuring these students won''t prove quite so trivial a task. My only wish... is that you don''t take up the challenge, this time.¡± She promptly patted her on the cheek and stood back in line with Gomez.

    Wednesday did in fact appreciate the lack of drawn-out goodbyes, though she did acknowledge that this would likely be the longest she''d spend away from her family since that one break she''d spent at a summer camp.

    Morticia turned to Larissa one last time.

    "We must thank you once again for accepting her on such short notice," she said warmly.

    Larissa excitedly exhaled and nodded her head.

    "She''ll be well taken care of here," she remarked, "as you well know, Nevermore prides itself as a place in which individuals of an unorthodox bent can truly discover themselves ¡ª I trust that Wednesday''s experience shall be no exception."

    Yes, of course," Morticia replied and then paused. "Any hospital bills you may forward to our accountant," she added politely.

    "Oh!" Larissa exclaimed, "does she have a condition?"

    Morticia cordially shook her head. "For the other students."

    Larissa offered somewhat of a courteous smile. "I''m sure things will be fine," she replied.

    Morticia brushed a hand over Wednesday''s cheek once more, who stared expressionlessly back up at her, and then finally turned to leave.

    As her parents shuffled back outside, the headmaster promptly spun to face Wednesday.

    "Now, I''ll show you to your dorm and have you set up with your class schedule, with the aim of having you attend third period, at 11," she said, a certain sternness entering her voice.

    "You may refer to me as Principal Weems going forward," she continued, flashing a professional smile.

    "Please, follow me," she began up a lavishly decorated spiral staircase. Wednesday let out a sharp exhale and trailed after her.

    The carved oakwood walls were full of ornately framed paintings of what Wednesday presumed to be past alumni. She expected to see depictions of her mother and father sooner or later.

    Principal Weems glanced back at her as they ascended.

    "Oh, yes, this place has been around to teach generations of children much like yourself, Wednesday," she mused, "you''ll be among peers who''ve experienced similar difficulties fitting in with society ¡ª you''ll have no need for that guarded exterior of yours any longer."

    She observed a look of dubiousness on Wednesday''s face.

    "In any case, you''ll find your time here to be far preferable to that at your old school," she continued.

    Wednesday looked up at her. "I wouldn''t be so sure," she said confidently.

    The principal joylessly raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" she enquired.

    "I hadn''t been expected to make any friends at my old school," Wednesday replied, to which the principal gave a curt chuckle.

    They reached a closed door at the final landing. The principal pushed it open without knocking.

    Sat at a desk to one side of the mid-sized dorm room, a petite young girl donning the purple school uniform yelped in fright.

    "Principal Weems! How¡ª uh, hi! I... had a free period!" she bumbled.

    The contrast between the left and right sides of the dorm were jarring ¡ª the girl''s side was overladen with plush toy animals, pillows and blankets of every color, with some even draped from the ceiling. Her desk was littered with markers and notepads to map out the rainbow, and even the girl''s side of the window had been painted over in acrylic, such that the light shone through multicolored.

    ''Surely this should be enough to make anybody puke...''Wednesday gagged internally.

    "That''s quite alright Enid, I simply expected you might instead have been out in the quad, socializing, perhaps," the principal waved her hand dispassionately.

    Enid gave a half-hearted smile.

    "In any case," she continued, "You have a new roommate ¡ª this is Wednesday Addams. Wednesday, meet Enid Sinclair¡­¡±

    The girl hopped up to greet her. She had pink and blue streaks through her platinum blonde hair, and a certain bounce in her step which made Wednesday almost as queazy as the rainbow decor did.

    "Howdy, roomie!" Enid squealed, as though this were the most exciting thing to ever happen to her.

    Wednesday curtly looked her up and down, but said nothing.

    "Oh," Enid said, suddenly in concern, "are you feeling okay? You look a little... pale."

    "I did mention she was an Addams, did I not, Enid?" Principal Weems said from behind Wednesday. "I think it would be fair to say," she continued, bending down and placing her hands around Wednesday''s shoulders, "that young Wednesday is allergic to color."

    Enid reacted as though the statement were literal.

    "Oh!... What happens to you?" she exclaimed with concern.

    Wednesday looked down her nose at her.

    "It''s not what happens tome, but to those in my proximity," she retorted, shrugging the principal''s hands off of her shoulders.

    Weems derisively chuckled again.

    "Well, seeing as you have the free time Enid, perhaps you might give your new roommate a short tour of the grounds after she unpacks."

    "Oh, yes principal Weems!" Enid agreed in a jittery voice.

    Wednesday turned and began toward her new bed, but the principal demanded her attention once more.

    "Wednesday?" Weems nodded toward the terrarium in her hand, "if I see that thing wandering the corridors, it will be confiscated."

    For once, Wednesday held her snide remark.

    "Yes ma''am..." she replied.

    The principal shut the door decisively behind her.

    Wednesday turned her back on her colorful roommate and began unpacking, placing Kessler the spider on her bedside desk.

    Enid wasted no time popping up right beside her.

    "You really have a pet tarantula?" she asked, incredulous.

    Wednesday turned her head and glared at her until she took a half-step back.

    "It''s a wolf spider, not a tarantula," she finally replied.

    "Oh!... They don''t eatactualwolves, do they? ''Cause then I''d be, uh," Enid attempted to joke.

    Wednesday turned to her, raising an eyebrow slightly.

    "You''re a werewolf?" she surmised.

    Enid raised a hand of multicolored fingernails and extended them into claws.

    "Rawr," she giggled.

    Wednesday took a moment. "...Is this whole, baby-girl-pastel-paradise look a tactic to lull your adversaries into a false sense of security before you tear out their esophagus?" she genuinely enquired.

    Enid''s expression changed to one of bewilderment.

    "If it is," Wednesday continued, "then I¡¯m only willing to tolerate it out of respect. If it isn''t, then please take the rainbow nail polish away from me and allow me to unpack without being disturbed."

    Enid was silent for a moment. Wednesday would have been grateful if she didn''t also find it likely that the pink-haired ditz might begin sobbing after having had her feelings hurt.

    To her surprise, the girl''s demeanor hadn''t been deterred in the slightest.

    "You''re going to be such a character around here!" Enid exclaimed instead.

    Wednesday rolled her eyes. Having sorted through her trunk, she unzipped open her smaller duffel bag. A spindly-legged creature scattered out from the opening and onto Wednesday''s arm, to a shriek from Enid. Though, it wasn''t another spider, it was ahand¡ª animate, though detached from any governing appendage.

    "Thing¡­¡± Wednesday said, as though greeting an old friend. "I hope you didn''t stow away solely in an attempt to frighten me," she continued, "because that was a pitiful attempt."

    It appeared to wave a couple of its limbs in protest.

    "Not even close¡­¡± Wednesday reiterated.

    Enid''s widened eyes darted back and forth between the two, demanding answers.

    Wednesday turned with Thing still perched on her arm like a falcon.

    "Thing¡­ meet this waste of space I have for a roommate," she said to it.

    Enid recoiled backward. "Woah, woah, what¡¯s¡ª?¡±

    "Thing is a family member," said Wednesday, not presuming this would reassure her, "who¡­ probably shouldn''t be here..."

    She turned to Thing. "You might not find this place to be overly hospitable toward you," she warned, "there''s a giant lady here playing jail warden, and I''ve already observed her disdain for spiders ¡ª if she sees you scurrying about, she''ll likely try to capture you."

    Thing made a motion with its fingers in response.

    "Yes, Kessler''s here too," Wednesday replied, placing Thing down on the desk by the spider terrarium. The two creatures appeared to greet one another through the plexiglass.

    "He''scontented to stay inside the box and not get up to hijinks, though," she added sternly.

    "Um," Enid broke in, "so you guys grew up together...? You, and... the hand?"

    "Don''t be absurd," Wednesday retorted, "Thing''s been with us since long before I was born."

    "Right..." Enid murmured, somewhat dumbfounded.

    Wednesday returned to her conversation with Thing.

    "Actually, why don''t you do something useful for me and keep him fed throughout the day," she said, nodding in the direction of the spider.

    Wednesday glanced and found Enid at her side again.

    "I''d like to say sorry for freaking out earlier," she said to Thing, "it''s nice to meet you, Thing¡­ my name''s Enid!¡±

    She extended out her hand, and Thing rolled back onto its nub of a wrist and shook it.

    Wednesday''s eyes shot between the two. She''d have to find a means of vanquishing this girl''s incessant friendliness before term''s end, Wednesday thought to herself.

    Enid then turned to Wednesday.

    "Sorry, but Principal Weems will have a cow if I don''t at least show you to the registrar''s office for your uniform and class schedule before next period starts," she begged.

    Wednesday exhaled.

    "Very well," she said, glancing at Thing. "Stay hidden," she warned, "or I''ll have your thumb."

    Thing bopped up and down in acknowledgment.

    She gave it a knowing nod, and then allowed herself to be led by Enid as she absconded from the dorm in a whirlwind of hyperactivity.

    They descended the staircase and passed back through the familiar foyer, without a second of silence from Enid, who opted to recite to her the entire history of the school''s founding.

    "¡ªbut ever since they attached lightning rods to each of the spires on the roof, nothing like that''s ever happened again," Enid babbled on.

    Wednesday glanced at her. "Did you say somebody died from being struck by lightning?"

    "Yes, Nevermore''s third headmaster, Principal Dirge," she repeated, ¡°¡­you weren''t even listening, were¡ª oh, hi Mrs. Oom!"

    They''d evidently reached the registrar''s office, where they met with an elderly lady with a single, bulbous eye in the centre of her face ¡ª the registrar, no doubt.

    Enid turned to Wednesday.

    "Mrs. Oom is a cyclops," she beamed.

    Wednesday eyed Enid with derision.''You don''t say...''she thought.

    Mrs. Oom kind of grunted in her direction, sliding an old, leather-bound ledger over the counter for Wednesday to sign her name into.

    Wednesday observed her enormous eye roll back and forth between the lines on the page. She found the lady to be rather unnerving, and for that reason she was more than glad to comply with her request.

    Wednesday was handed a sheet of parchment, with her class schedule written upon it in ink calligraphy.

    ''The crone certainly is dedicated,''she remarked internally.

    "Oh my god, we have botany class AND ancient Mesopotamian mythology together, roomie!" Enid celebrated, peeking over Wednesday''s shoulder.

    Wednesday observed the timetable ¡ª botany would be her first class of the day, starting in about half an hour. She grimaced at the realization that she wouldn''t be able to escape her chatterbox of a companion until after lunch.

    "I know ¡ª I''m excited too!" Enid squealed.

    Wednesday stared at her, and Enid seemed to get the message. She turned and thanked Mrs. Oom on Wednesday''s behalf, and then led her back behind the office where the new uniforms were kept.

    "Well, um, you know," she waffled, "let me know if you have any trouble finding your size or whatever¡ª"

    "Is purple theonlyoption...?" Wednesday lamented.

    Enid looked confused. "Well, yeah," she replied, "have you not ever been to a uniformed school before?"

    Wednesday carried an expression of dread. "My parents hadn''t previously been that cruel..." she explained.

    Enid sighed, attempting to empathize.

    "I can tell you probably put a lot of effort into that outfit," she said, ¡°it does have a certain¡­ charming¡­ shabbiness to it!¡±

    Wednesday side-eyed her. ¡°Whatever,¡± she curtly replied, marching over toward the rack, "this one looks like it might¡¯ve once been worn somebody my size¡­¡±

    She promptly disappeared into the changing room.

    "Oh, did you want me to bring you the other two sizes?" Enid called out from outside, "you know, to compare?"

    Wednesday didn''t answer her, focussing on the task at hand.

    She pulled the curtain across and stepped back out, clad in purple pleated skirt, sweater and blazer, over a white shirt and black tie. She still wore her black tights underneath, as well as her black leather boots. She couldn''t bear to bring herself to look in the mirror.

    "Oh!¡ª" Enid looked equal parts excited and concerned. "Are you sure you don''t wanna try a size down? I feel like it could sit tighter around¡ª"

    "We''re done here," Wednesday said through her teeth, already exiting the room.

    Enid waited for Wednesday as she made a return trip to their dorm to drop off her things, and they continued their tour.

    Passing through a wide, pointed archway, the building opened into a grassed outdoor area, with colonnade walkways encircling the perimeter at straight angles. Pockets of purple-uniformed students who were also enjoying a free period occupied the stone benches and tables that were littered about. The students at the table closest to them curiously all wore large, tinted sunglasses, and their skin was even paler than Wednesday''s.

    "Welcome to the quad!" Enid declared feverishly.

    Wednesday paused, assuming she might have more to say.

    "It''s a pentagon..." Wednesday corrected her.

    For once, it was her words that were falling on deaf ears ¡ª Enid appeared to be distracted by some commotion of students at the opposite end of the ¡®quad¡¯. While seemingly an eclectic group, they all wore head coverings of some sort ¡ª hats, beanies, turbans, and the like.

    ''Perhaps they were all scalped at a young age, and become cold in the open air,''Wednesday wondered ghoulishly.

    Enid''s mind returned after a moment, and she continued without skipping a beat. "The east wing is where the greenhouse is," she gestured, "that''s where botany class will be, and that way is also the infirmary ¡ª you know, if you hit your head, or if your claws come out while you''re having a nightmare and you gash yourself up so bad that you bleed through the bedsheets your mom got you for Christmas...!"

    Wednesday raised an eyebrow at her.

    Enid took a breath. "Anyway," she went on, "most of your other classes will probably be in the west wing near the library, that''s where all of the regular old boring classrooms and stuff are."

    She turned to Wednesday excitedly. "But now that we''ve sorted that, I know what you''ve really wanted to find out about are all of the student cliques!"

    At the mention of such banalities, Wednesday abruptly turned and walked away. By some miracle, Enid didn¡¯t immediately spring back up by her side again, either.

    She wandered down the colonnades, until she reached a boy walking the opposite way, who decided to stop and engage her in conversation.

    "Woah, you''re new here, huh?" he opened. He was one of the head-covered students she spotted, wearing a purple beanie, and a vacant expression to go along with it.

    "You''re like, a ghost or something, right?" he concluded.

    Her plan had been to continue walking past him, but his question was just inane enough to engage her.

    She looked at him. "How do you imagine I died? I''ll give you a clue ¡ª it was during the school day, as you can tell by my uniform," she explained with a thick layer of condescension.

    He expressed mild surprise. "Wait¡ª you''re dead?!"

    "Ajax!" Enid blurted out from behind, catching up to them, "this is Wednesday, and no, she''s not dead, she''s just messing with you."

    She shot Wednesday an uneasy look.

    Ajax turned back to Wednesday. "Woah... right on," he said, giving a lackadaisical smirk, "you really had me there."

    Wednesday, mid eye-roll, noticed that the clock tower was about to chime on the eleventh hour.

    "Are we expected to be there on time?" She asked Enid.

    "Oh¡ª well, there''s a leeway for if you''re coming from another class, so, we won''t be late," she replied, turning to Ajax. "What class have you got? Wait¡ª don''t tell me... you''ve got stonemasonry ¡ª right?" she giggled.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he reacted, ¡°¡­did you read my mind just now or something? Wait¡ª can werewolves do that?"

    "No," she giggled, "I just remember from last week, silly."

    ''They''re somehow more insufferable together than they even are apart,''Wednesday grimaced.

    She was put out of her misery by the chorus of chimes from the clock towers.

    "Well, carve¡ª or, grind something cool for me!" Enid waved goodbye.

    ¡°¡­Chisel seems more likely,¡± Wednesday muttered to herself.

    She led the way to the greenhouse, as Enid hurried over to walk alongside her.

    "I''ve thought about dating Ajax before," she chattered, "but let''s be honest, it wouldneverwork out, ''cause¡ª"

    "Enid," Wednesday interrupted.

    "Yes?" she smiled.

    Wednesday turned and looked at her with dead eyes, which seemed to say all that needed to be said.

 Wednesdays Child Is Full of Woe (Part Two)

    Their botany professor spent the first few minutes of class wrestling with a man-sized Venus flytrap after its muzzle had mistakenly fallen off, and the next ten he spent explaining the importance of safety-wear when handling carnivorous plants.

    Wednesday''s gaze drifted around the spacious greenhouse in which they sat, with desks and chairs arranged as in a regular classroom. The glass structure was domed at the roof, and incredibly humid, given all of the moisture required to keep its many exotic plants from wilting.

    She glanced over at Enid, who had insisted on sitting next to her. She held a sparkled blue pen and appeared to be experimenting with different handwriting styles. Wednesday recalled going through a calligraphy phase when she was younger ¡ª she''d found enjoyment in decoratively drafting her own death certificate.

    "¡ªAnd of course, there is further granularity within the genus," the professor''s deep British voice reverberated through the space, "when one discerns between actively animate species and the passively animate."

    He wore an olive green tweed jacket, and an earth-toned ascot around his neck. His face was rugged and tanned, and upon his nose rested a pair of pince-nez glasses, with their suspension chain dangling off his lapel. Wednesday imagined he was the type to keep a hunting rifle mounted in his living room.

    "Now, just as last week," he continued, "it is my desire that you be able to identify these by smell alone, so now partner up with the student beside you and decide who is to wear the blindfold first."

    Wednesday didn''t find herself entirely uninterested in the direction the class was taking.

    The professor did the rounds handing out sample kits and lengths of thick fabric to the class. Enid hurriedly ushered him over as he reached their table.

    "Professor Ludlow! Did you notice our new student?" she beamed, "this is Wednesday Addams."

    He shot a startled look at Wednesday, as though she''d just appeared out of thin air.

    "Ah!¡ª dear, yes, you are a new face aren''t you? My apologies for not having taken note of you earlier," he said. "Wednesday¡ª indeed, is it?"

    "Correct," Wednesday said stonily. "I''d like to wear the blindfold first."

    "Oh¡ª of course, my dear," he blustered, handing over the materials. "In any case, it is good to have nice and even class numbers once again ¡ª Enid, it seems you won''t need to share a partner this week."

    Enid shuffled in her seat excitedly.

    Wednesday glanced around at the other students as they all partnered up. She began to notice some of their more discerning features for the first time. Some had fur sprouting from their hands and necks, and appeared to experience great difficulty sitting still in any way ¡ª reminding Wednesday of somebody... Though, unlike Enid, they appeared to be further onto the werewolf side of their metamorphosis ¡ª she looked entirely normal by comparison, with the exception of her sickening preference for bright colors.

    A pair of mysterious looking girls sat partnered together, one with flowing, long hair, and the other without a hair on her head. In common however, was their skin, which appeared to transition into luminescent scales on certain parts of their bodies, the same as would be found on an exotic sea creature. Their eyes also struck her ¡ª the pupils shone an intoxicating silver.

    A few from the hat-wearing clan were also present, and Wednesday had figured out by now what they were hiding underneath their ridiculous overgarments ¡ª a head of snakes. They were Gorgons ¡ª the same stone inducing creatures as the mythical character Medusa.

    ''So,'' Wednesday counted in her head, ''we have a cyclops registrar lady, werewolves, Gorgons, vampires,'' ¡ª she''d realized this of the pale, sunshade-wearing crowd after having dispelled her erroneous assumption that the red drink they''d been carrying around and sipping on had been cranberry juice.

    ¡®And, finally,'' she thought, turning her attention to the bald, scaly-skinned girl, ''sirens.'' Their beauty was freakish, as though artificial, and Wednesday imagined that any weak-willed individual might find themselves easily entranced by the girl''s incandescent silver eyes. Wednesday found herself somewhat in admiration of the concept.

    "Oh¡ª Professor Ludlow!" Enid badgered, "we didn''t get a scalpel!"

    "I''ll get one," Wednesday quickly replied, saving the teacher the trouble. She''d had her eye on the desk of cutting utensils on the other side of the room since she''d entered.

    She waltzed over and perused over her options. The monstrous man-eating plant Professor Ludlow had fought with earlier stood sedately in the corner, its head slowly following Wednesday as she moved. She imagined it desired for her to approach it.

    ''What a humorous end that would be...'' she devilishly grinned to herself.

    She returned her attention to the table of instruments, and picked up a thirteen-inch steel hand saw, giving the creature a curt glance. It merely twisted its head slightly, continuing to beckon her.

    "Hm," Wednesday murmured to herself with a slight grin. She placed the saw back down and retrieved their necessary scalpel, as well as an extra pair of forceps.

    As she spun around to return to her desk, she collided with another student. Wednesday stumbled slightly, bracing herself against the nearest thing her hand could find.

    They''d both clearly had their backs to one another as they¡¯d crossed paths ¡ª the other student spun around to apologize to her, adjusting his eyeglasses. He''d dropped the contents of his sample kit onto the floor.

    "Oh, geez, that was my fault, I''m s¡ª" the boy fell silent mid-sentence, jarringly transitioning from bumblingly apologetic, to shell-shocked by the sight of Wednesday, almost as though he recognized her, or something.

    "I''m fine," Wednesday replied dismissively.

    The professor strode over with a look of concern.

    "Had a spill, did we?" he asked, eyes darting around to assess the mess. As he turned to Wednesday, he fixated on her hand.

    "Oh¡ª my dear," he said with worry, "you... didn''t happen to cut yourself on that there Echinopsis aegrotatio, did you?"

    She followed his gesture to notice a shriveled, blackened cactus-like plant in a pot on the table to her left side. She then looked down at the hand she''d used to brace herself when she stumbled, which trickled blood from a small nick. She hadn''t even noticed the cut, as there had, disappointingly, not been any pain.

    "Rowan," the professor addressed the boy who''d bumped into her, who perked up to comply with the teacher''s request, "would you in fact mind taking our dear Wednesday here down to the infirmary..." He glanced back at Wednesday''s hand once again with a look of dubiousness.

    "I''m fine," Wednesday asserted, "...or, I''ll go on my own."

    "Well, it''s just that," the professor blustered, "and while I appreciate the bravery Wednesday, a prick from that plant when healthy would typically transmit a poison which, while not technically lethal, would have some deleterious affects on the body... Of course, this particular specimen has been dead for many weeks, despite my attempts to revive it!"

    He chuckled to himself awkwardly as Wednesday observed some of the other students taking a morbid interest in the professor''s implication. All except Enid of course, who looked catatonic at the thought.

    "In any case, Rowan, if you would please," the professor urged, "in the event that she succumbs to paralysis in the hall, I''d like somebody there to bring her the rest of the way."

    Wednesday cringed. ''Yeah, right...'' she scoffed inwardly.

    "Professor!" Enid stood and blurted, "I''d like to go as well ¡ª what if something happens to the both of them?!"

    He waved his hand in dismissal. "There''s no need to send the entire cohort along, Enid, all is taken care of."

    Enid sat back down with reluctance, looking like a nervous wreck. Wednesday couldn''t help but pity her.

    Wasting no time, she marched out of the greenhouse leaving Rowan trailing behind her ¡ª she didn''t care to hear any more profuse apologies. Though, from what she could gauge from a glance, he still appeared to be in some state of shock. What from, was anybody''s guess.

    Wednesday halted at a junction in the hallway. There was no signage anywhere to be observed.

    She turned to Rowan expectantly.

    "Oh¡ª is the paralysis beginning?" he worried.

    She ignored him. "Which way...?"

    "Um, on the right," he gestured feebly.

    She stormed away once again, not allowing the opportunity for small talk.

    Finally spotting the ''INFIRMARY'' sign above a door along the hallway, Wednesday entered and took a seat upon an empty bed. She glanced around at the sterile room. Nobody came around to meet with her ¡ª except for Rowan, who managed to finally catch up with her, still with an expression on his face which indicated he thought she might suddenly succumb to the world''s slowest-acting poison.

    Wednesday figured she may as well take a look at the cut herself, seeing as no real medical treatment was being provided here. It seemed possible that the wound may have swelled slightly ¡ª she wasn''t used to seeing any pink coloration in her skin.

    Rowan took a seat in the corner, looking uneasy. Though, Wednesday''s assumption that his demeanor was caused by a concern for her was beginning to dissipate.

    She stole a glance his way. He was staring straight at her, and trembling slightly.

    ''Why is this idiot looking at me like that...?'' she wondered, almost aloud.

    At that moment the school''s nurse hurried through the doorway, apologizing profusely that she''d been otherwise detained ¡ª something about a werewolf-vampire breakup which took a turn for the dramatic.

    The nurse gently cleaned the blood and then dabbed Wednesday''s wound with some sort of tonic, alleviating the swelling.

    "Will it scar...?" Wednesday asked absent-mindedly.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The nurse assured her otherwise, to Wednesday''s disappointment.

    "Well," she grew impatient, "I''m assuming it won''t be lethal. I''d better get back to class ¡ª my chaperone is becoming... fidgety."

    It was true ¡ª Rowan had begun rapidly rocking his leg up and down and was compulsively glancing out into the hall.

    ''Is he psychotic?'' Wednesday earnestly wondered.

    The nurse allowed her to leave, and they both set off back toward class. This time, it was Rowan who sped ahead of Wednesday so as not to be near her. It was all very curious, she thought.

    She spent the last few minutes of botany class fending off Enid, who''d been petrified of losing her new roommate on the very first day. Wednesday instead directed the conversation to what had perturbed her more than the prospect of spontaneously losing motor function.

    "What was that kid''s name again? With the glasses and the sweater vest?" she asked while glancing his way.

    "Rowan?" Enid responded, "oh, was he good moral support? If I''d have been there Wednesday, I would''ve¡ª"

    Wednesday drowned her out. She was almost tempted to ask Enid what Rowan''s deal was, but she knew she''d only be waterboarded with frivolous details, like high-school crushes, and such.

    The clocktowers rang out, indicating end of period.

    "Oh!¡ª What class do you have next, roomie?" Enid exclaimed.

    "Don''t... call me that in public..." Wednesday replied sharply.

    Enid went silent, biting her lip.

    "I... have 18th century oil painting next," Wednesday offered, and then groaned through her next statement, "...what class do you have next, Enid?"

    This seemed to reinvigorate her new friend, who began regaling Wednesday with her experience with taking the very same subject last year, and how she improved from a passing grade all the way to an A minus.

    "Oh¡ª and I have Transylvanian history next," she finished, "thank you for asking, roomi¡ª um, Wednesday!"

    She gave Wednesday the bubbliest of smiles, as they finally were able to head their separate ways to their next classes.

    As she walked away, Wednesday struggled to come up with a reason why she''d just put up with all of that. She became mildly less irritated when she stopped and recognized the sound of rain. Glancing around, she spotted an open entry door leading outside, and ventured toward it. She stopped close enough for the raindrops to tickle her fingertips, and closed her eyes, appreciating its scent.

    She imagined she still had a few minutes until she''d be expected to arrive at her next class, so she took a step outside into the shower.

    Closing her eyes and allowing the water to grace her skin, she peeled back her thoughts and focussed on the comforting, pattering drone. It was about as much bliss as she ever allowed herself to experience, but it wasn¡¯t insignificant.

    When she reopened her eyes, she noticed a tall, slender boy leant against the wall, underneath a small alcove nearby her, shielding him from getting wet. He seemed to also be observing the rain.

    She decided it wasn''t particularly ideal for her clothes to become drenched, so she thought to wander over and join the mysterious student under his shelter. He at least didn''t seem like the type to try to bother her, on first glance.

    If anything, the boy seemed to look somewhat upset. Perhaps he, like her, was out here for the gloomy weather¡¯s stress-relieving properties.

    Before she became close enough to attract his attention, a loud cracking sound emanated through the air. Not thunder, Wednesday thought, but more akin to the sound a large rock might make if it were shattered into pieces.

    Wednesday and the boy under the alcove both shot their heads toward the source of the sound.

    "Hey, look out!" the boy yelled out to Wednesday, who watched with curiosity as a stone gargoyle from the castle rampart mysteriously dislodged itself and began its descent toward where she was standing.

    The boy had quickly closed the distance between the two of them, and before the gargoyle reached the ground, he managed to tackle her out of its path. She landed violently on the ground, knocking her head¡­

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    Wednesday awoke in a familiar setting, laying down on a hospital bed with a throbbing pain through her skull.

    ''A third trip to the infirmary on my first day and I might set some type of record...'' Wednesday grimaced.

    She sat up slowly, regaining her faculties to find the boy from the rain sitting by her bedside, seemingly waiting on her to wake up.

    "Can I help you?" she asked impassively.

    "Oh¡ª welcome back," he began, "I figured since I kind of put you in here that I should at least see that you''re okay."

    She sat up the rest of the way, darting her eyes around to shake the fog from her vision.

    "How''s the...?" he gestured to his own head.

    She looked at him. He had brown hair tied into a short ponytail, hazel eyes, and unblemished porcelain skin. Wednesday presumed he might have been a vampire given his regal appearance, though she hadn''t noticed any fangs in his mouth as he spoke to her.

    "Unconcerning," she replied plainly, "it''s no less pain than I''d have been caused had you not been there to rescue me."

    ¡°Uh,¡± he half-chuckled, ¡°no, I''m pretty sure that thing would''ve splattered you.¡± He looked at her with some curiosity. ¡°You were really just watching that thing come down on you, huh?¡±

    Wednesday stared deadpan back at him.

    "I was prepared to die in that moment," she retorted.

    "Oh..." he puzzled, "well, I guess I apologize, then."

    His comment almost elicited a smile from her.

    "You, uh," he continued, "you don''t remember me at all, do you?"

    Her face dropped back into its usual sullen expression.

    "What do you mean?" she asked with suspicion.

    "My name''s Xavier ¡ª Xavier Thorpe," he added, to no recognition from Wednesday.

    "Well," he continued, "that''s understandable, I suppose, last time we met I was about two feet shorter, forty pounds heavier¡ª"

    "What happened?" she interjected.

    "Uh, puberty, I guess," he replied jokingly.

    Wednesday ignored him.

    "What happened last time we met?" she pressed.

    He let the slight smirk fade from his face.

    "Well, yeah, I¡ª it was my godmother''s funeral," he said, "apparently she was friends with your grandmother, or something. We were told that they spent their twenties together in Europe, uh, swindling the rich and notorious, I don''t know¡­¡±

    Wednesday patiently awaited the conclusion to his story.

    "But, we were about eight or nine, or something, and we were bored," he went on, "we decided to play hide and seek. I had the inspired idea to hide in her casket... I got stuck, as it was headed to the crematorium¡ª"

    "I''d heard muffled screams," she suddenly perked up in recognition, "I just figured your godmother had cheated death and was trying to claw her way out."

    "Yeah, well," Xavier chuckled, "either way, you hit the big red stop button and stopped me from being flame-broiled, so..."

    "So this was you attempting to return the favor?" she guessed.

    "Yeah, sure" he looked down in self-deprecation, "failed attempt, I suppose, seeing as I clearly should''ve let you... perish, or whatever."

    Wednesday smirked a little.

    "Well," he stood up, "I don''t wanna like, smother you or anything, plus I have to explain to my professor why exactly I''m half and hour late for class, so, I''ll, uh..."

    She nodded as he somewhat awkwardly left the room.

    Wednesday lay back into her pillow and rested her eyes for a bit. ''Never a dull moment around here, I suppose.''

    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

    The remainder of the school day had been less eventful than the morning ¡ª Wednesday had managed to find an old tree near the edge of the school grounds under which to eat her lunch without being disturbed by Enid, and her final three classes had, miraculously, not seen her taking a third trip to the infirmary.

    It had been a stimulating day by all accounts, however there was something about Nevermore''s seemingly stone-etched mantra of "it''s okay to be different!" which Wednesday found tiresome. In her experience, a school, by nature, was not an institution celebrative of nonconformity ¡ª the entire purpose of a school was to produce a product: an obedient child. Principal Weems'' ultimate designs were no different ¡ª Wednesday surmised this based on their very first conversation. Nevermore describing itself as an ''Academy for the Gifted'', and exclusively enrolling children who were otherwise outcasted from society, did nothing to alter the paradigm.

    Perhaps it was cynicism, but Wednesday didn''t imagine that her "being different" would be tolerated the day that she refuses to volunteer for school outreach, or forms her own extra-curricular club due to the existing ones placing an overwrought emphasis on "camaraderie."

    Hell, Nevermore had already stripped away her ability to appear the way she wished, and stuffed her into a grotesquely-colored uniform, so as to look in concert with the other students.

    ''No,'' she thought to herself, ''my fate at this place will be no different than at any of the other schools which tried, and failed, to groom me for conformity¡­¡¯

    Having changed out of the ghastly purple attire the moment she''d arrived back at the dorm, Wednesday sat down at her desk and lay back into her chair, letting out a sigh. She peered out of the window at the evening sky, already darkening. It held a faintly visible full moon. She wondered whether that meant she''d have the dorm to herself tonight, or that her roommate was about to become even more difficult to cohabit with. Either way, she imagined she''d struggle to sleep through what would likely be a night-long chorus of howling from the other werewolf students.

    She glanced over at Thing, which lay on her bed with its peripheral fingers draped comically over its knuckles, conjuring the image of one covering their eyes.

    "I''ve finished changing, you can look again," she said.

    Thing obliged and scurried over onto the desk in front of her, then perched expectantly.

    "It''s nothing," she dismissed, "just... nothing. Anyway, I need to finish unpacking."

    She fed the closet her remaining clothing, and then pulled the final item from her trunk: a vintage typewriter. She placed it on her desk, wiping it off slightly. This particular contraption had been her one true escape for most of high school, so she''d of course elected to have it with her now, given she¡¯d be living here for at least the next few weeks.

    Thing waltzed over and tapped on the machine, as if in question.

    "I intend on beginning a new story, actually," she responded, "I feel as though my characters in my other works have become too redeemable to remain interesting."

    She sat back down and inserted a sheet of old paper into the top of the typewriter, twisting the roller knob to feed it through. She lay back and contemplated for a moment, before an idea hit her. However, before any of her outstretched fingers reached the keys, Enid burst into the room to greet her.

    "Howdy roomie!" she blurted with her usual unbridled excitement. "Sorry I wasn''t back after class ended, I was just meeting with my Poe Cup team."

    Wednesday didn''t particularly know what that meant, but she assumed it wasn''t anything interesting.

    "I assumed you''d have been out growing hair and canines, howling at the moon," Wednesday mocked.

    Enid conspicuously avoided looking out the window, as though it were a sore spot for her.

    "Yeah¡ª well," she stammered. Her face seemed to contort into something horrid, an expression that Wednesday hadn''t seen from her before ¡ª she began sobbing. She ran over to her bed and buried her head in her colorful pillows.

    Wednesday looked around awkwardly. Thing seemed to make a shrugging motion.

    "Perhaps it was something you said," she murmured to it.

    "Okay, I lied, Wednesday¡­¡± Enid lifted her head and said, tears still streaming down her face, "I wasn''t actually at the Poe Cup team meeting... I was in the bathroom, crying..."

    "And yet you still evidently had tears to spare..." Wednesday muttered aloud.

    Enid made an expression such that she appeared to be genuinely hurt.

    "I know you must find this all very funny, Wednesday..." she sniffed, her lip quivering.

    Wednesday, for a reason unbeknownst to her, held at bay her look of contempt and mustered an empathetic voice. "What upsets you, Enid?" she asked.

    Enid sat up, dabbing her eyes with the ends of her sweater sleeves.

    "Well," she began weakly, "the truth is... I''ve never actually... you know, wolfed out."

    She glanced at Wednesday, as though she expected a reaction. Wednesday simply continued to listen.

    "My mom," Enid weeped, "she says some wolves are late bloomers, but, I''ve been to the best Lycanologists... I don''t know, maybe I should just accept that I may never... you know...."

    Wednesday opened her mouth, but held herself from speaking, as the only words she could seem to find were mocking in nature ¡ª she wasn''t feeling particularly empathetic to the girl''s plight.

    Apparently Enid didn''t require any actual tangible advice, however, as she stood up and sauntered over to Wednesday with a smile on her face.

    "Oh¡ª Wednesday, thanks for hearing me out," Enid said warmly, "I think if any of us is guilty of judging a book by its cover, it''s me ¡ª you''re actually a great listener, roomie!"

    ''Seriously...?'' Wednesday thought, disgusted with herself.

    Enid then abruptly leant in for a hug.

    "No¡ª" Wednesday protested, but Enid had already tightly embraced her.

    After an excruciating few moments, she finally released her. Wednesday immediately turned to continue typing.

    "Ooh, whatcha writing?" Enid eagerly enquired, wiping away the last of her tears.

    "An autobiography," Wednesday lied ¡ª she decided in that moment that the first murder victim in her new story would be a petite young girl with colorful hair and a four-letter name.

    "I see," Enid said charismatically, "well, you''ll have to let me know how it ends!" She gave Wednesday a wink.

    Wednesday rolled her eyes, and began typing with even more ferocity.

    "You type pretty loud, huh?" Enid commented over the clacking, "in that case I''ll probably just listen to some music on my Discman for the rest of the night."

    She hopped back over to her bed, put a pair of orange headphones over her ears and began to groove out.

    In Wednesday''s story, the young girl met a grizzly end at the hands of a blood-craving sociopath, who force-fed her sparkling pens to her before smothering her with her multicolored pillows, and finally drinking her blood.

    By the end of the night, Thing lay curled up next to Kessler the spider''s terrarium, and a wave of tiredness hit Wednesday also. She nodded in satisfaction that Thing had placed a dead cricket inside with Kessler for whenever the nocturnal creature decided to wake. She even contemplated opening the lid for Kessler to wander around the dorm while everybody slept, though she imagined Enid might not have had the stomach for such an arrangement.

    Wednesday gave a silent yawn and proceeded to turn in for the night.

    She put out her bedside lamp, pulled her covers over herself and lay in the classic Draculean pose ¡ª the only way she''d ever been able to sleep ¡ª with her arms crossed over her chest.

    As she shut her eyes, the werewolf howling began outside. She sighed herself to sleep.

 Wednesdays Child Is Full of Woe (Part Three)

    Wednesday''s eyes bolted open the following morning to a distinct, repeated tapping sound emanating from her bedside table.

    She uncrossed her arms and sat upright, directing her fury toward the source of the irritating racket.

    "What earthly idea possessed you to wake me up at this hour, Thing?" she lashed.

    Thing finally halted tapping on the table and pointed out of the dorm window, with morning light streaming through.

    "It''s Saturday," she scolded, "I''m not late for anything."

    Thing pointed again, in reiteration.

    She begrudgingly picked herself up out of bed and peered out of the window to gleam what it was that Thing was so intent on. There was a black shuttle bus parked out front of the school grounds, with a handful of backpack-wearing Nevermore students leant against it, chatting loudly.

    Wednesday turned back to Thing, unimpressed.

    "Why would I want to go into the local town?" she protested.

    Thing responded with a complex series of gestures.

    "I''d much rather stay in this weekend," she groaned, "we can terrorize the townsfolk some other time."

    Thing concluded its argument with a "putting the foot down" motion.

    "Ugh, you''re insufferable," she acquiesced.

    Wednesday resurrected herself from bed and changed into her familiar dark dress with white collars, along with her black tights. As she laced up her boots, she wondered where Enid might have scurried off to ¡ª her bed was left unmade.

    Thankfully, Wednesday didn''t happen upon her on her way down through the foyer and out to the shuttle bus, which appeared about ready to leave. She peered at the decrepit bus driver as she entered the vehicle ¡ª a stiff, grey-skinned old man who somewhat reminded her of Lurch, had he been similarly battered by the sands of time.

    She took her seat assuming she''d be last to board, however another student sheepishly approached as Wednesday waited impatiently.

    She eyed with suspicion as the glasses-wearing boy, Rowan, hopped on and immediately took a seat at the front, without giving a single glance down the rest of the bus. Wednesday raised an eyebrow slightly ¡ª she doubted that his odd, anxious fascination with her had simply disappeared.

    Her face dropped into a scowl as Principal Weems'' lofty frame entered the bus next. The two of them made eye contact almost immediately ¡ª Weems returning Wednesday''s glare with a false-pleasant smirk. As soon as it was over, Wednesday looked down into her backpack.

    "You''ve brought me on a supervised trip, you idiot," she quietly scowled at Thing.

    She zipped the bag closed the rest of the way as Principal Weems sauntered down the aisle toward her.

    "Well, it''s certainly a surprise to see you here, Wednesday," she spoke with veiled condescension, "your mother typically spent her weekends as a shut-in while we were roommates."

    "I can only hope to measure up to her some day," Wednesday retorted.

    "Hm," Weems voiced dismissively, turning her attention to another student. "Why Damian, I''d heard your blazer had been torn asunder by¡ª"

    Wednesday tuned her voice out and looked on out the window waiting for the bus to begin moving. She placed her head atop her folded arms resting on the windowsill, ignoring Thing as he wriggled around inside of her bag. She considered getting off the bus and returning to her dorm as Principal Weems had assumed she would, however part of her had another idea...

    <hr>

    Their deathly bus-driver wrenched the noisy transmission into park, and the students hopped out in front of a worn-down town hall.

    Principal Weems exited the bus last. "Now, before you all scurry off," she announced, "for any students who have not visited before: welcome to Jericho. Go off and run any errands you need, however kindly refrain from disturbing the locals, and be back here before 4pm when the shuttle leaves if you wish to sleep in your own bed tonight."

    The students agreed and set off to wander the town. As Wednesday glanced around at the town''s pretentious flags, she realized she''d lost sight of Rowan, who must have gone off with the others.

    ''At least I don''t have to worry about that idiot following me,'' she thought.

    What she did seemingly have to worry about, however, was Principal Weems, who had her eyes trained on her like a hawk.

    "We both well know that you have a penchant for causing trouble, sweetheart," she called out, in response to Wednesday''s glower.

    Wednesday rested a hand against her backpack to verify that Thing hadn''t yet escaped, and then swung it over her shoulder to begin wandering about.

    Jericho seemed to be a quaint town; working class. Small businesses of a remarkable variety lined the quiet, two-lane streets ¡ª there wasn''t a single mall or franchised coffee shop in sight.

    In Wednesday''s experience, pockets of society such as these tended to be fairly tight-knit communities, however were typically not very welcoming to those who didn''t look like them. She didn''t imagine Jericho to be much different, given Weems'' implication that Nevermore students often "disturbed" the residents here.

    What interested Wednesday was the principal''s motivation in having students visit here every weekend.

    ''Does she desire to bridge the gap between these folk and the people they consider outcasts?'' Wednesday wondered, ''and if so, why? What would she stand to gain?''

    Wednesday noticed that Principal Weems wasn''t trying particularly hard to match Wednesday''s walking pace, so she took a few turns through some alleyways and fairly easily shook off her chaperone.

    The sight she was met with delighted her to no end, though nobody was present to witness her ghoulish grin. The town''s cemetery sat before her, vast and sprawling ¡ª to a surprising degree given the presumably small population of the town.

    The sky rumbled above her. The dark rainclouds couldn''t have been more than an hour away.

    "The gods smile upon us today, Thing," Wednesday mused, as Thing knocked obstinately on the walls of its backpack prison.

    "Calm yourself," she replied, dropping the bag off of her shoulder and letting Thing free, "I was only waiting until we lost our pursuer."

    They both set off down the cemetery''s cobbled path, taking turns guessing the death years of the graves they passed, judging by the styles of the tombstones.

    Thing veered off from the path, and scurried toward a large, stone mausoleum, scaling it and perching atop its roof.

    "You''re in an exploring mood today, aren''t you?" she commented.

    Thing pointed back down at the structure''s inscription, containing the names of those inside the tomb.

    "Well, obviously our family''s is bigger," she replied, "it has room for three generations of Addams'', as well as a spot for Lurch."

    Wednesday''s eye was suddenly drawn to a building just beyond the exterior fence.

    "Is it my eyes failing me, or does that say ''County Coroner'' over there?" she asked Thing, who turned in the direction she was looking to confirm her query.

    "Morgue right by the cemetery," she murmured, "that''s fascinatingly efficient."

    She lifted her arm to allow Thing to crawl down from atop the mausoleum.

    "Shall we give it a look?" she asked Thing, who agreed.

    They traipsed over, circling the small building and finding a maintenance door without anybody securing it. Inside, they sat tight for a moment, listening out for any voices. There was only one: a man theatrically humming to himself.

    Wednesday stayed low, but let Thing lead the way down the corridor. Stopping at the first doorway, Thing communicated that it was only the one man inside. She creeped along, allowing herself a look.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The coroner was indeed alone, taking his embalming tools to a horribly deformed body ¡ª it appeared as though it had been violently mauled by a wild animal.

    After having watched him work for only a few moments, the coroner suddenly straightened up in alert, sniffing the air. Wednesday and Thing both ducked out of the doorway before he could turn around.

    Wednesday glared at Thing and pointed at her hand, communicating that she believed it was Thing''s excessively fragrant hand lotion the man was smelling.

    Without having heard the man''s footsteps, he stepped out into the corridor to immediately find her, crouching like a ninja. She could only stare wide-eyed back up at him, while he puzzled over his finding.

    "Well, I''m sure you shouldn''t be in here," he said pleasantly.

    He had curled, silver hair and a matching beard, and had a certain kindness in his eyes which Wednesday hoped meant that he wasn''t upset by her intrusion.

    She stood up slowly, observing Thing scurry around the corner behind the man.

    "I''m¡ª" she began, "I''m doing a school project... on rigor mortis."

    "Oh, is that so?" he chuckled, "well all of the sneaking about is quite unnecessary, dear girl, I''m sure I would have been happy to make an appointment with you if you''d called!"

    He turned and nonchalantly led her into the autopsy room.

    "If you''re classmates with my daughter then I''m sure she would have opted for a different assignment," he continued, "she finds her father''s profession beyond repulsive, the poor girl."

    The man''s demeanor was surprisingly jovial, given his line of work, Wednesday thought.

    "So... you''re comfortable with me being here?" Wednesday asked optimistically.

    "Well, if it''s court-side seats you''re after, I''d ideally like you to place on that surgical gown and set of gloves," he replied, "but otherwise, yes, you''re fine, dear, ask away!"

    Wednesday found it difficult not to immediately ask about the mangled body the man was working on, and to which her eyes were desperately fixed, but she tempered herself.

    "...Thank you," she began cordially, "firstly, how long have you worked as a coroner?" She pulled a notepad out of her bag and pretended to write.

    "Oh," he responded, "my dear, I''m at the tail-end of a 45 year long career, in fact I''m set to retire next month once the out-of-towner ships in to replace me."

    "I see," Wednesday scribbled aimlessly, "and you¡ª"

    "¡ªplease, Doctor Anwar, dear," he offered with a smile, "Rajesh is my first name."

    "A-N-W-A-R?" she asked.

    "That''s it," he grinned.

    "Got it, fantastic," she continued, "now, roughly how many hours post-mortem would you say that rigor mortis reaches its peak?"

    "That would be the 12 hour mark," he answered as he worked.

    "Correct," Wednesday replied.

    He looked up, with a quizzical expression. "I''m sorry, dear?"

    "¡ªOh, I mean, thank you for giving me the answer," she replied, not actually having intended to be rude to the man.

    "Next question," she continued, her curiosity burning, "what have you determined as the cause of death on this body?"

    Doctor Anwar chuckled. "Oddly specific for your assignment, no? I''ll give you this, my dear, you have a strong stomach to have been looking upon it for as long as you have."

    Wednesday stepped a little closer.

    "Unfortunately for this poor fellow," he went on, "he experienced hemorrhagic shock as a result of these injuries, likely inflicted by a bear ¡ª we haven''t ever seen any other wild animals of such a size around here."

    "These lacerations seem deep even for a bear," Wednesday weighed in.

    He gave her a look. "You certainly seem to have a curiosity for the morbid, dear," he said with amusement, "quite unusual for girls your age, no?"

    "It would be a mistake to compare me with girls my age," she replied, a small grin forming on her face.

    Doctor Anwar continued to find her amusing. "Well, certainly not my little girl," he said, "she''s declined to visit here on bring-your-daughter-to-work days more times than I can count. Not that I''d ever blame her of course, she''s grown to be a perfectly well adjusted person, unlike me..." He let out a wistful chuckle.

    Wednesday offered a look of sympathy, though it felt alien to her. After a moment, she managed to tear herself away from the sight of the gruesome body in order to observe to other materials laying about the room. She glanced over some coroner''s reports laying open on the table against the wall ¡ª they even contained photographs. Titillated, Wednesday considered making visiting Jericho a weekly routine from here on out, if only to come here every time.

    She tilted her head slightly, noticing something as she flicked through a few different reports.

    "These other victims also died of bear attacks," she began, spinning around to face him, "there were three others just within the month, is that not considered high?"

    "Well¡ª yes," he answered, "I mean, I don''t pretend to know whether there are reasons these animals might come out of hibernation early, in... heightened territorial moods, I haven''t a clue ¡ª we don''t have such expertise in this town, and the sheriff here is stretched thin as it is."

    "I see," she said, in thought. The occurrence was beginning to intrigue her. She supposed it were possible that the chakra-finding techniques taught to the werewolf students at Nevermore weren''t a failsafe, and that an angsty wolfy teen could be the culprit, however the damage inflicted in these cases seemed somewhat extreme to be within the capability of a juvenile werewolf. Besides, given the full moon the previous night, that would only go to explain the most recent attack.

    "I''d like to investigate this," Wednesday said after a moment, "may I use your photocopy machine?"

    This time Doctor Anwar was truly puzzled. "Inves¡ª I... I mean, I suppose so," he waffled, "you know, dear, you ought not believe those stories people tell about that Nevermore place up the hill... these are just things the older kids make up to frighten you ¡ª there aren''t really any monsters or anything scary like that up there."

    Wednesday pondered how he might react were she to tell him she was in fact a Nevermore student. She supposed he must have simply been under the impression that she was into goth, or some such shallow teen fad.

    With her materials in hand, Wednesday turned to take her leave, eyeing Thing awaiting her in the corridor just outside of Doctor Anwar''s view.

    "I''ll... be sure to make an appointment first if I decide to visit again," she said awkwardly.

    He looked up and smiled at her. "I do hope you will, my dear," he replied warmly, "despite being by my lonesome here, I do in fact enjoy company."

    She managed a nod in gratitude and headed out through the front door this time, sweeping up Thing as she passed by.

    "I don''t know what your plans are," she murmured, "but I need a hot beverage while I mull over these cases, feel free to meet back up with me when the bus is set to take us back to Nevermore."

    Thing looked unimpressed, but hopped off of her to have its own adventure while Wednesday searched for the nearest coffeehouse.

    ''WEATHERVANE CAF¨¦ & BAKERY'' a corner shop sign said. It would have to do.

    Wednesday found a vacant booth for herself with relative ease ¡ª it would have been well past the lunch rush, if such a thing even existed in this small town. She wrestled against the tacky laminate seats for a moment, attempting to find a comfortable sitting position, when a barista approached her.

    "Yeah, ''bout as comfortable as a plastic-wrapped sofa I''d say, sorry about that," he said with an easy charisma. "Don''t think I''ve seen you in here before, by the way ¡ª I can usually remember a face."

    The boy was about her age. He was tall, sporting well-kept, chestnut hair, and soft, blue eyes ¡ª he had the same type of sickening boyish charm as those teen idols Wednesday often saw on the front of those insipid fashion magazines.

    She didn''t particularly appreciate his candor, and shot him a look to convey as much.

    "I was under the impression I''d be going up to place my order," she curtly replied.

    "Oh, it''s pretty casual around here," he smiled, undeterred, "the machine tends to act up sometimes as well, would hate to have you waiting up there while I kicked the thing into shape ¡ª you seem like you''re probably here to read."

    Wednesday didn''t see any way out of the conversation other than to place her order.

    "I''ll take a quad. Black," she glared.

    "Black, got it," he tapped his pen to his head. "And that''s... black so as to, like, match the aesthetic of your whole getup here, or because your taste preference is all things bitter?" He gave her a goofy smile that he probably practiced in the mirror.

    Her glare turned to daggers.

    "I don''t know if this whole "negging" routine typically has the girls dishing out their phone numbers like confetti at a parade," she lashed, leaning forward in her seat, "but all it''s going to earn you in this instance is a fork plunged directly into your eye. Do I make myself clear?"

    The boy pulled back a little, but his confidence didn''t appear to be diminished by her chastising.

    "Got it," he chuckled, "a quad, coming up." He paused. "And did you wanna give a name for that order, or¡ª"

    This time she looked at him as though she really might kill him, so he hopped away to go prepare her beverage.

    While she waited, she began perusing the materials she''d brought from the coroner''s, continuing to be perplexed by the details of the deaths that had taken place. As well as the deep gashes through the abdomen, the victims all apparently had extensive amounts of blunt force trauma in common. Wednesday tried to recall from the handful of textbooks on native predators she''d ever read, whether grizzly bears had ever been observed this far north-east in the country. She perhaps should have confirmed with Doctor Anwar, but she was fairly confident that the largest type bear of bear this town was likely to ever see was an American black bear ¡ª hardly the calibre of strength and claw length against which these victims appeared to have met their end.

    "Some uh, light reading there? Holy hell," the boy startled her.

    He stood gawkily with her coffee in hand.

    "If you''re going to puke," she glared, "I''d like you to place my beverage down first."

    He appeared to be genuinely haunted by the images that lay open on the table, setting her drink down without taking his eyes off of them.

    "Wait," he murmured, "are those... they''re real people?"

    Wednesday abruptly closed each of the folders.

    "Do you always hover like this?" she demanded.

    He turned to look at her, but was silent, as though his mind was elsewhere.

    The moment was somewhat interrupted by the pitter-patter of rain on the roof outside.

    Wednesday instinctively turned to face out the window, expressionlessly rejoicing over the change in weather.

    "Um," the boy mumbled, seeming to have regained some of his faculty for speech.

    Wednesday turned back to him impatiently. "What do I owe you¡­?¡± she asked.

    "Oh," he replied, "it''s a dollar fifty, but¡ª"

    Wednesday held out some cash. "Here''s five dollars. Keep it and leave me in peace."

    His facial expression remained distractingly vacant, however he took the money and returned to the counter.

    ''What a dolt,'' she remarked internally.

    Continuing to window watch, Wednesday mused over how something as trivial as rainfall seemed to sap the joy out of people, as she observed the various townsfolk grumpily scurry indoors, or wrestle open flimsy umbrellas. It easily equalled her favorite aspect of the gloomy weather phenomenon, along with the way it felt on her skin.

    Her attention was momentarily diverted to the joyful chatter of a group of teenagers, dancing about in the rain in animated conversation ¡ª perhaps she wasn¡¯t the only one with a fondness for rain. As she watched them, she had to begrudgingly admit to herself that she recognized a few as her peers from Nevermore, despite their lack of purple uniforms.

    One was the girl from her botany class with the mildly luminescent skin, whom she had earlier concluded must be a siren. She appeared to be giving most of her attention to the tall, pale-skinned boy who had narrowly spared Wednesday from death by falling statue the previous day ¡ª Xavier, she remembered.

    Wednesday shifted uncomfortably as she realized the group were headed toward the caf¨¦ ¡ª she dreaded the prospect of any of them coming over to bother her.

    It was too late to leave without running into them, so she did her best to keep her head down at her booth, as they noisily paraded up to the counter.

    ~~TBC~~