Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In order to properly warn one of the coming events this was required. A note from the many authors. The following events have been compiled by the following: Wednesday Addams, Bianca Barclay, Calypso Galpin, Daisy Kinbott, Ajax Petropolus, Enid Sinclair, Xavier Thorpe and Lucas Walker. 

After everything that occurred during these last years we decided that we need to all know the whole story, to get everything out in the open and to have all of the truth organized. We do not plan to share this story with anyone outside of our group, but if there ever comes a time where it is required, then we will know where to find it. 

Each of the... for lack of a better term, chapters will hold one perspective of the events of the story. Some of the chapters may also include a note from fellow authors. 

Now to continue with the warning. 

If you were to ask any of us if we would want to repeat the past two years and the answers would be the same across the board. Despite a few precious moments, we don’t tend to look back on these as good memories. 

If we could go back and change things though, none of us would really change much regarding how we grew and changed. How could we when we are all stronger than we were before and the bonds between us will last throughout time? If we did change things then different versions of us would find their way through time and end us for screwing things up. 

Instead, let us take you back to the (vague) beginning of this story in which we found our purposes, home and family with the last people we thought. Don’t worry, this is far from a “feel good” story. If there is one thing that we wouldn’t stand for, it is a boring story. 

- The Nightshades

Chapter Text

My parents are kissing passionately in the seat across from me. It’s a good thing we drive a funeral vehicle, because I’m seconds away from expiring. Cause of death: pure revulsion. 

I’m convinced a coffin six feet under would be a more preferable destination to the one I’m heading for. Nevermore Academy. The very campus I swore, as a child, I would never set foot on. Anything that makes my father misty-eyed is something I reject summarily – including my mother, who surfaces for air and turns her imperious gaze on me. 

“Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?” she asks. 

I don’t turn my gaze from the window. “Lurch.” I say in an even tone, addressing the family’s monstrous butler in the driver’s seat. “Please remind my parents that I'm no longer speaking to them.”

Lurch moans as he’s wont to do. Right now I prefer it to the conversation my parents have been trying to have with me since we left this morning. I know my father understands the warning in his tone, but he ignores it.

“I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore. Won't she, Tish?” My father is incapable of having an opinion my mother doesn't share. It's unnatural, and it only increases my nausea. 

“Of course,” my mother says. “It's the perfect school for her.”

These words grate against my already frayed nerves. I abhor a cliche, but certain adolescent experiences, I suppose, are universal, and there's nothing I detest more than being told who I am or what's good for me by my mother. 

“Why?” I snap, breaking my silence against my will. “Because it was the perfect school for you?”

She doesn't even deign to respond, just smirks in that way of hers, nonverbally suggesting that everything she thinks is objectively correct. Baiting me with that knowing silence.

And I bite. Which only makes me more furious at the both of us.

“I have no interest in following in your footsteps,” I say. “Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the Dark Prom, president of the Séance Society.” I try to infuse these accomplishments with as much disdain as possible, but of course she looks even more smug. 

“I merely meant that finally you will be among peers who understand you,” she says. “Maybe you'll even make some friends.”

I don't dignify with a response. Friendship, in my experience, requires opting into a series of identifiers that I have never had any interest in. Psychologists say adolescent friendships are made and broken almost entirely on being in or out of a group. and I've never been part of any group. I don't intend to start with the one that would have my parents as members. 

Besides, I don't believe my mother has ever had a friend. She’s had followers. Sycophants. She's been trying to get me to join their ranks since I was born.

“Nevermore is like no other boarding school,” my father says, gazing at her, utterly proving my point. “It's a magical place. It's where I met your mother. And we fell in love.”

You think I would be used to that moony look on his face, the way he takes her hand in his and size like the car is powered by his personal carbon dioxide emissions and not fossil fuels that are burning the planet and everyone on it at an alarming rate.

I know there's no use trying to interrupt them. Even my most carefully sharpened verbal barbs have always failed in that endeavor. Instead, I turned back towards the window, taking refuge in the last memory that brought me peace.

I can almost feel the cheap linoleum flooring of Nancy Reagan High School beneath my Mary Janes. See the half-close locker barely containing my brother, who spills out, red-faced and humiliated, an apple jammed in his mouth. I touch his arm and it happens. A vision. A jolt of past or future that violently overrides my circuitry. It's hard to explain how it feels...  like electroshock therapy without the satisfying afterburn.

These visions have been plaguing me the past few months. But this one showed me something actionable, at least:  the identity of my brother's tormentors. From there vengeance wasn't hard to obtain.

It took me a few days to get the piranhas. My guy at the exotic animal store dragged his feet until I unearthed some photos of him and his current mistress that considerably dampened his curiosity about what I wanted them for.

The memory of standing at the edge of the pool during water polo practice carries me all the way up the drive to nevermore. The amusement turned panic in the culprits’ eyes. The sleek silver bodies of the fish streaking through the overchlorinated water. the way they somehow knew to go straight for the family jewels.

Never forget the way the Vivid red blood contrasted with the blue of the water, or the screams filling the water sports practice center. I couldn't have set the stage better – incredible acoustics. 

They lived, unfortunately. My one solace is that their parents didn't press charges for attempted murder. Imagine a lifetime of anyone looking at your record knowing you'd failed to finish the job. 

The Nevermore principal’s office is exactly the kind of academic self-importance fest I most loathe. Leatherbound books and furniture, polished mahogany and bronze. The kind of room that makes stupid people feel intelligent and intelligent people want to vomit. 

I sit in one of the leather chairs between my parents as the principal examines my file with a pained expression on her face. I know the file contains my transcripts. Probably some warnings from past teachers and counselors. Nothing out of the ordinary – unless you’re not used to vigilante justice. 

“Wednesday is certainly a unique name,” she says at last, latching onto what is potentially the sole inoffensive detail in the tome. “I'm guessing it was the day you were born?”

“I was born on Friday the 13th,” I correct her, keeping my stare level to show her this means exactly what she fears it does. 

“Her name,” my mother cuts in, pacifying, “comes from a line from my favorite nursery rhyme, ‘Wednesday's child is full of woe’.” 

The one time she really understood me, I think. 

“You always had a unique perspective on the world, Morticia,” the principal says. “Did your mother tell you we were roommates during our time at Nevermore?”

Suddenly, Larissa Weems is more than just a barely distinct talking head to me. I try to imagine her young – was she this prim and uptight then? I wonder. She can’t have been popular if she’s working here now. In-group adolescents almost never return to the scene of the crime. 

So she’s reliving something, I deduce. And she doesn’t seem to be a sycophant of my mother’s, which means she was at least partially immune to the legendary Morticia Addams charm even back then, when it was most concentrated. Perhaps there’s something I can learn from this woman after all. Not that I’d give her the satisfaction of telling her that.

“Impressive,” I say in my most neutral tone. 

“What is?” she asks politely. 

“That you graduated with your sanity intact.”

Is it my imagination or does she take another look at me too? If so, she has the sense to stop before my mother takes notice. 

“You've certainly had a very interesting educational journey,” she says, returning to the file. “Eight schools in five years, each tenure ended by an... incident of note.”

“I’m a strong believer in vigilante justice.”

She presses on ignoring this. “Nevermore doesn’t usually accept students in the middle of a term, but you’re clearly a bright girl, and your family has a long history with the school. The board understands that students who thrive here are often... underserved in other educational environments. We’ve made an exception in the hopes that will prove true for you as well.”

“They haven't built a school yet that can serve me,” I parry. “Or one that can hold me either. I don’t imagine this one will be any different.”

“What our daughter is trying to say,” my father interjects with a pointed look in my direction, “is that she greatly appreciates the opportunity.”

“Yes,” my mother agrees. “And she’ll prove it by being a model student, as well as attending her regular, court-ordered therapy sessions.”

“Ah, that brings me to my next point,” Principal Weems says, brightly. “Many of our students require extra psychological support. We have a relationship with an excellent practitioner in Jericho who can meet Wednesday twice a week.”

My stomach clenches at the thought of therapy. I avoided the requirement during my last seven expulsions, but this time it was either counseling or juvenile detention. Pity they let my parents decide. I’ve always been fond of stripes.

“We'll see if your therapist survives the first session,” I say.

Principal Weems isn’t fazed. It’ll take more than a few oneliners to put her off, I see. I’ll have to work harder – but I enjoy a challenge. I make note to find out her worst fear and exploit it before I make my escape. Assuming there’s time.

The principal gets to her feet. She’s tall. Much taller than I expected. She and my mother look like giants, and I curse my father’s genes for my diminutive size. 

“I've assigned you to your mother's and my old dorm,” she says in that forcedly bright tone – which sounds even more condescending from her twelve inch altitude advantage. “Ophelia Hall.”

My mother gasps, delighted, and claps her hands. I loathe Ophelia Hall on principal before I even set foot in it. 

“Ophelia's the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?” I ask my mother. 

“Should we go meet your new roommate?” Principal Weems asks before my mother has a chance to answer – not that she would have bothered. 

Roommate. 

Just the word makes my blood run cold. No one mentioned a roommate. I’d pictured myself in some try-hard, moody room with arched windows, ravens circling overhead. Playing my cello. Writing my next great novel. Plotting my inevitable escape. 

I hadn’t pictured doing any of that with an audience.

Chapter Text

At Nevermore there are eight towers and four halls. Each of the towers had three doubles, two triples and four singles. Each of the halls had two doubles, one triple and two singles. 

The first two towers, Iago and Bradbury Tower had been shut down years ago. Iago Tower because of an explosion thirty years ago and disappearance of a student and Bradbury Tower because it had been completely destroyed by a party ten years back and the school just decided not to fix it and instead blocked it off.

Then there was Viola, Juliet and Titania, they were the girls towers and Benedick, Prospero and Macbeth were the boys towers. 

The halls were Ophelia, Thisbie, Puck and Caliban. 

Ophelia Hall, in my opinion, is the most beautiful. The view is perfect and all of the rooms have a window that opens to the balcony. In room three of Ophelia Hall, mine and now also Wednesday’s, I had covered the window with colorful vinyl so that when the sun shined through the window the entire room would be covered in colors. 

I did have the permission of my old roomie, McKenna, but she left because of a disagreement and moved in with Divina, leaving me alone in a double. Which was part of the reason why I was so excited to have a new roommate. 

I had spent most of the day so far tidying and preparing for my new roommate and when I heard people approaching, I tripped over myself to greet them. Principal Weems knocked twice and opened the door without waiting for a response. 

The group that followed her in was... monochromatic. My new roommate was wearing a black dress that looked like a fashion emergency. Her mother was wearing a floor length black gown and her father was wearing a black and white suit. 

“Oh my,” her father mutters from behind her. “It’s so vivid.”

I glance around the room, a bit self-conscious about it now, but I approach my new roommate with a bounce in my step. 

“Howdy, roomie!” I say as I go to embrace her. 

She takes a step back and looks at me as though I am a creep. 

“Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair,” Principal Weems says. 

“And you are not a hugger,” I comment, still hopping. “Got it.”

“Please excuse Wednesday,” her mom says. “She's allergic to color.”

Her mom has a smirk on her face as she looks around my room that makes me stop hopping. 

“Oh, wow,” I say, concerned. “What happens to you?”

“I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones,” she says, staring me down. 

“Luckily, we've special ordered you a uniform,” Principal Weems chuckles. Enid, please take Wednesday to the registrar's office to pick it up along with her schedule. Then you can give her the grand tour while her parents and I fill out some paperwork.”

“Lead the way,” Wednesday says and I smile brightly. 

While we are on the way I start the grand tour which she tries to convince me is unnecessary. I spent a bit of time telling her the history of the school. She tells me about how she plans to leave and then I ask her the question.

“Why do you want to leave? This place is great! Way better than normal school.”

“This was my parents idea,” she says, eyeing a picture of the fencing team from thirty years ago, I look a bit closer and I see a girl who looks like Wednesday with her hair down and a bold red lip and know that this is her mom. “They’ve been looking for any excuse to send me here. It’s all a part of their completely obvious plan.”

“What plan is that?” I ask. 

“To turn me into a version of themselves,” Wednesday replies plainly. 

I nod for a moment before asking the question that has been bugging me since I found out who would be my roommate. 

“Okay, as long as we’re sharing?” I start. “Maybe you can clear something up.”

“I doubt it.”

I plow ahead despite her response. “Well, rumor has it you killed a kid at your last school, and your parents pulled strings to get you in here even though you’re, like, a danger to yourself and others.”

“Totally wrong,” she says and I let out a sigh of relief. “It was two kids. But who’s counting, right?”

For a moment I looked at her, my mind trying to decide whether to choose terror or amusement and I let out a squeak. We reach the Quad and I decide to move on. 

“Welcome to the quad,” I say. 

“It's a pentagon,” she replies, bluntly. 

“The whole snarky Goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different,” I snapped then paused, taking a breath. “Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene.”

Somehow this short, snarky, goth girl was able to get under my skin in a way that I wasn’t a fan of. 

“I'm not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés,” she replies with just as much boredom as before. 

“Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain,” I say sarcastically before continuing, there is a look on her face that I can’t quite place, but it isn’t the same deadpan as before. “There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales. Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires.” The Fangs all sit at the same table out of direct sunlight while they scroll on their phones. “Some of them have literally been here for decades. That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!” The Furs barely look at me, but they start howling from something someone said. “Full moons get pretty loud around here. That's when Furs wolf out. I suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones.”

“I'm assuming Scales are sirens?” Wednesday asks as we stop and look toward Bianca Barclay and her posse. 

“You catch on quick,” I compliment. “And that girl, Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty. Although her crown's been slipping lately. She was rejected by our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. Reason unknown.”

The reason was known. Everyone at Nevermore knew. We were all just a bit too scared to mention it. The reason was Calypso Galpin. 

She had been the nicest person ever, never cared if you were normie or outcast, but if you were a bully she would put you in your place. She had been dating Xavier Thorpe and was best friends with Daisy Kinbott when they had a falling out and suddenly everything shifted in Jericho, but no one really knew what had happened between them, just that things shifted fast. 

Xavier had never really moved on from her and that was why he rejected Bianca. 

“Fascinating,” Wednesday replies to my gossip. 

“I know, right?” I said, excitedly. “My vlog is, like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip.”

“Yo, Enid!” Ajax calls as he jogs over. “You're not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate.” I motion for him to shut up, but he is clearly not getting the message. “She eats human flesh. Chowed down on that kid she murdered. You better watch your back.”

I stepped to the side revealing Wednesday to him. 

“Quite the contrary,” she says. “I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets.”

“Good going, Ajax,” Daisy Kinbott’s voice comes from behind us. 

Wednesday and I turn to look at Daisy as she goes to stand beside Ajax. 

“Daisy, Ajax, this is my new roommate, Wednesday,” I introduce them. 

“Whoa,” Ajax says. “You're in black and white. Like a living Instagram filter.”

“Ignore him,” Daisy comments. “Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned.” Ajax jogs away as another stoner calls him over. “He's cute, but clueless.” Daisy holds out her hand and I can feel the static electricity in the air. “I’m Daisy, my room is just down the hall from yours.”

Wednesday eyes her hand. 

“You’re electric,” she observes. 

“Good catch, little raven,” Daisy smiles. “I’ll see you around.”

Daisy walks over to Xavier and I see her point towards us as she talks to him. 

“The rumors will clear up once we get you on social media,” I tell her. “There wasn't much online about you, so people feel free to fabricate. You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok.”

“I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation,” Wednesday replies. 

I nod, not knowing what to say. 

Chapter Text

The first thing I remember is running through the woods. It was the night of the full moon and I don’t know why I was running or if there was something wrong. The first person I saw was Calypso Galpin. She was at Skull Tree reading a book when I came running out of the woods full speed. 

She ended up getting me to the police station and from there we found nothing on me. They decided to call me Daisy and I was taken in by Doctor Valerie Kinbott and she eventually adopted me. There had never been any memories of what happened before the woods, who I was, or where I came from. 

That was five years before Wednesday Addams arrived at Nevermore. 

I’m not exactly sure what was drawing me to Wednesday Addams, but I remember seeing her from across the Quad (Pentagon) and drifting towards her and that was when I heard Ajax’s comment and made my entrance. 

I was focused on Wednesday Addams’s eyes when she made the comment about me being electric. They seemed so... familiar. 

After leaving her and Enid, I went to Xavier. He was one of my best friends, practically my brother, and also the only person other than Calypso Galpin, my mother and the police, who knew the truth about my amnesia. 

“She’s familiar,” I said as I approached Xavier. “I feel like I’ve met her.”

Xavier almost dropped his brush at my words. 

“Who?” he asked, looking in the direction I pointed. “Wednesday Addams?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I think I’ve met her.”

“When?” Xavier asked. “Before?”

“I don’t know,” I said, watching as Wednesday left the Quad (Pentagon) and Enid stood there.

I’m not ashamed of what I did next. I followed her. I watched from a distance as she said her goodbyes to her family. I had my journal and I sketched a picture of her family. As it turned out, it wasn’t just Wednesday who looked familiar, but the whole family.

“Why don't you boys wait in the car?” Wednesday’s mother said. “Wednesday and I need a moment.”

Wednesday looks uncomfortable as her father gives her a hug. Her brother steps forward next and circles her with his arms. She stands perfectly still as he does this. 

“Pugsley,” she says and he releases her. “You're soft and weak. You'll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops.”

“I'm gonna miss you, too, sis,” he says, sadly. 

He and Wednesday’s father get in the car as the butler holds open the door. Wednesday’s mother approaches and despite her quiet tone and being across the way, I can hear her voice clearly. 

“Any plans you have of running away end right now,” she says. “I've alerted all family members to contact me the minute you darken their doorstep. You have nowhere to go.”

“As usual, you underestimate me, Mother,” Wednesday replies. “I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again.”

Wednesday’s mother sighs. “You are a brilliant girl, Wednesday, but sometimes you get in your own way.” She smiles now. “I'm sure you'll grow to love Nevermore, and find it as life-changing as I did.” She holds something out to Wednesday. “Oh, I got you a little something. W... M. Our initials. It's made of obsidian, which Aztec priests used to conjure visions. It's a symbol of our connection.”

“Which one of your spirits suggested this toe-curling tchotchke?” Wednesday takes the necklace anyways. “I'm not you, Mother. I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family.”

Wednesday’s mother sniffs. “I'm told girls your age say hurtful things, and I shouldn't take it to heart.”

“Fortunately, you don't have one.”

“Finally, a kind word for your mother,” she replies. “Lurch, the crystal ball, please. We can't talk to you for the first week while you're settling in, so we'll call you next Sunday.”

I watch as Wednesday leaves and the Addams Family car drives off. Though I am no longer the only one in the drive as I see a disembodied hand drop from beneath the car and run into the building in search of Wednesday Addams. 

Anyone who thought this year was going to be boring, was going to very quickly be proved wrong. 

I was sitting beside Stacey Glau watching the fencing class as I told her about the night before and how Wednesday Addams clearly had a very unique way of getting on Enid’s nerves and the same went for Enid stomping on Wednesday’s. 

Neither Stacey nor I were allowed to participate in the fencing activities after what happened last time. 

Last time being when I was paired up with Rowan and kept shocking him through the swords connecting and Stacey, who was paired with Bianca, kept “accidentally” breaking her sword. 

“I heard Ms. Thornhill brought Wednesday a Black Dahlia,” Stacey said. 

“Like the murder?” I immediately compared the two. “I bet Wednesday appreciated it.”

“You and her are a lot alike,” Stacey commented as my attention was drawn to the doors. 

A moment after I felt the current change, Wednesday walked through the doors. She was wearing a black fencing uniform and held her mask under one arm and her sword in the other. 

As she walks through the room, people stop fencing. I glance to where she is walking and see Bianca make a clean hit on Rowan and he goes crashing to the floor. 

“Coach, Coach, she tripped me,” Rowan says immediately, pulling off his mask. 

“It was a clean strike, Rowan,” Coach Vlad replies and I can tell he is as tired as the rest of us are of Rowan. 

“Maybe if you whined less and practiced more, you wouldn't suck,” Bianca says to Rowan before getting loud. “Seriously, Coach, when am I gonna get real competition? Anyone else want to challenge me?”

I start to stand up, but Stacey pulls me back. I’m not a big fan of Bianca and I would really want to take her down a peg, but part of me knows that Stacey is right in stopping me.

“I do,” Wednesday says. 

Bianca turns as if she only just now saw Wednesday. “Oh, you must be the psychopath they let in.”

“You must be the self-appointed Queen Bee,” Wednesday counters. “Interesting thing about bees. Pull out their stingers, they drop dead.”

“Rowan doesn't need you to come to his defense,” Bianca informs her. “He's not helpless, he's lazy.”

Wednesday draws her weapon. The flicking sound it makes against the air draws everyone else’s attention. “Are we doing this or not?”

“En garde,” Bianca says. 

I can tell immediately that Bianca is paying too much attention to what everyone else thinks. It leaves wide open for Wednesday to strike. A few seconds in Wednesday gets her first touch as Bianca considers angles. 

Abruptly, the siren is furious. 

“Point to Wednesday,” Coach Vlad announces. 

Since the start of the Year Bianca and I have gone against each other in practice in the afternoon. I know how good she is. I can see in Wednesday's eyes the moment that she realizes Bianca is dangerous. I watch Bianca's whole body honing on Wednesday as if she's taking it seriously for the first time.

Bianca knows her weakness. She's just not used to being held accountable for having it except for against me.

When Bianca goes on the offensive Wednesdays barely matching her steps. She's half a step behind as Bianca's foil makes contact. 

“The score is even,” Coach Vlad says. 

“That first point was clearly beginner's luck,” Bianca comments. “Let's finish this.”

“For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge,” Wednesday proposes. “No masks. No tips. Winner draws first blood.”

I watch Wednesday remove her mask and Bianca glances back at me and I know she is thinking the same thing. Wednesday thinks that it will knock her off of her game if beauty is involved. 

“It's your decision, Bianca,” Coach Vlad says. 

“Let's see if you bleed in black and white,” Bianca replies, removing her mask. 

Bianca begins about with a confident lunch. I realize in Bianca's first step  that Wednesday has realized her trick hasn't worked. Bianca moves faster as though she's the water that she draws her strength from. 

I watch as Wednesday leaves an opening, a trap I recognize, having used it against Bianca before. Bianca perries taking expert advantage of Wednesday's ploy and I watch as a line of red appears on Wednesday’s forehead. 

“Your face finally got that splash of color it so desperately needed,” Bianca comments. 

“One of you needs to take Ms. Addams to the nurse,” Coach Vlad says. 

“I will,” I stand and just as I do, Rowan has the most unfortunate timing. 

His nose starts bleeding. 

I scowl as I now have to accompany Rowan to the nurse as well. 

As I wait for the nurse to come back so that she can fill out the proper paperwork I watch Rowan and Wednesday talk. 

“You're Wednesday, right?” Rowan asks. 

“Rowan,” Wednesday replies and I watch Rowan nod. 

“I know how you feel,” Rowan says. 

“I guarantee you don't.”

“My mother promised me I'd finally fit in somewhere,” Rowan continues. “I never thought it was possible to be an outcast in a school full of outcasts. But it looks like you're gonna give me a run for my money.” There is silence for a moment. “Uh... Sorry about the... nick.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Wednesday replies before she walks out of the room just as the nurse returns. 

Chapter Text

After ending up in the Infirmary where the nurse left me with an embarrassingly large synthetic band across my forehead, broadcasting my defeat to anyone who glances at my face and having to talk with Rowan, I left before he could make any further attempt to commiserate. 

Outside it's beginning to pour. Typically, I'm not one to try to control public perception, but I take a Less Traveled path back to my room. I don't want people to know Bianca bested me before I have a plan to even the score.

I'm weighing my options between an insect infestation in her room and a horse head shipped to her dorm when the scraping of Stone from high above catches my attention. It's a gargoyle –  slightly on the nose as far as decoration goes –  but at the moment I'm more concerned with the fact that it seems to be scraping toward the edge of its perch. 

And the fact that I'm directly below it.

There’s little time to act, and while quick decision making is typically my forte, I find myself tangled up in knots of my previous defeat. I experience a moment of self-doubt. and that's enough to snuff me out like a candle. The last thing I consciously think is that the impact is coming from the wrong direction, and then everything goes dark. 

The next thing I know, I'm awakening in the infirmary with an awful pain radiating through my head. I've been taught to weather extremes. It's nothing I can't handle. And yet I can't help but wonder how I survived at all.

“Welcome back,” says a slightly raspy voice from somewhere to my left. 

I sit up quickly, aware that my prone position leaves me at a disadvantage. 

“Just take it easy,” the voice continues. “Nurse said you don't have a concussion, but you probably have a nasty bump, huh?”

“The last thing I remember I was walking outside feeling a mixture of rage, pity and self-disgust,” I say more to myself than my companion, whom I’ve already profiled. Not a threat or an ally. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt exactly that cocktail of emotions before.”

“Losing to Bianca has that effect on people, I think.”

I refuse to acknowledge that my fencing defeat is already school-wide knowledge, but the rest of my memory of the incident is returning to me, and my curiosity is peaked. I turned to look the boy in the eye, hoping to unsettle him into telling the truth. 

“Then I looked up and saw that gargoyle coming down and I thought, ‘At least I'll have an imaginative death.’ But the impact came from the wrong direction, which means you tackled me out of the way. Why?”

He appears amused by the question. as if people do unselfish things more than 2 percent of the time on average. “Call it instinct.”

“So you were guided by latent chivalry, the tool of the patriarchy, to extract my undying gratitude?” I asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” he nods. “Most people just say thank you.”

“I didn't want to be rescued,” I say, irritated by his nonchalance and the throbbing in my temples.

“I should have just let that thing smash all your bones?”  

“I was taking care of it,” I acknowledge this is a lie. In fact, I remember having distinctly failed to react in a timely fashion, which had contributed to my feelings of self-loathing. “I'm quite used to saving myself.”

The boy has the nerve to scoff. “Good to see you haven't changed,” he says unnervingly. “If makes you feel any better, let's just say I returned the favor.”

At these words, I'm forced to examine him again. there's nothing familiar, and I pride myself on maintaining an accurate catalog of names and faces. 

“Xavier Thorpe?” he supplies. Does ring a bell, but only from Enid's insipid social hierarchy speech. I note with mild interest that this is the boy who mysteriously rejected Bianca Barclay and then consider bloodletting to rid myself of the impulse to care. “You probably don't remember me. Last time we met, I was about two feet shorter, forty pounds heavier.”

“What happened?” I ask. 

“Puberty, I guess,” he replies.

“What happened the last time we met?” I clarify

“Oh, uh,” Xavier leans back in his visitor's chair, as if  reliving the memory. I wish, not for the first time, that I could simply read minds. much more useful than my mother's visions, and it would save me so much obnoxious chit chat. “Yeah, it... it was my godmother's funeral. She was friends with your grandmother, and they spent their twenties in Europe, swindling the rich and notorious. I don't know, but we were ten, and we were bored, 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.”

At last, I remember. The funeral. I'd begged my mother to let me come. I loved the scent of a decaying rose wreath. The grating sounds of grief, like music. The peaceful presence of death so close. 

“I'd heard muffled screams,” I say as I recall the details. “I just figured your godmother had cheated death and was trying to claw her way out.” I leave out that this was one of my most cherished funeral fantasies, and one I've yet to cross off my list.

 Xavier smiles. in it, I see a bit of that round-faced boy. I've always had a soft spot for the underdog. “Either way, you hit the big red stop button and saved me from being flame-broiled. So... now we're even.”

I don't tell him, but this does actually make me feel slightly less humiliated.

Once I'm finally released from the clutches of the school nurse, I make my way back to my dormitory, delighted to find Enid out and the room deserted. I'm behind two days on my writing, and the familiar clacking of my typewriter soothes me.

I’m deep in this installment of girl detective Viper de la Muerte's story when I catch a whiff of something familiar. a smell that should be nowhere near Nevermore academy, because it belongs back at home. 

Following my nose, I tiptoe over to the bed, ripping off the quilt dramatically to reveal a severed hand, which cowers predictably in fear as I stand over it, triumphant for the first time today.

The handed question bolts, making for the iron bed frame, clinging On with three desperate, traitorous fingers. But I've caught bigger rats, and soon this one is clutched in my own hands, trembling in a way I know denotes pleading.

“Hello, Thing,” I say conversationally. “Did you think my highly trained olfactory sense wouldn't pick up on the faint whiff of neroli and bergamot in your favorite hand lotion?”

He struggles, as if I wasn’t already overpowering him like he was a toddler in a pram. I tighten my grip. 

“I could do this all day,” I warn, slamming him down onto my desk. “Surrender?”

Thing taps three times, the signal. I let him up, but I keep my eyes on him. He’s a squirrely one. Presumably that’s why he’s here.

“Mother and Father sent you to spy on me, didn't they?” 

He declines frantically. Protecting them even now, in the hour of his defeat.

“I'm not above breaking a few fingers,” I threaten. “That they thought I wouldn't find out proves how much they underestimate me.”

Thing begins signing as quickly as he can. I get as far as the word worried before I roll my eyes. 

“Oh, Thing, you poor, naive appendage. My parents aren't worried about me. They're evil puppeteers who want to pull my strings even from afar.”

He doesn’t sign anything more, but I can tell by his posture that he disagrees. It doesn’t matter. He can underestimate me along with them. They’ll all be sorry in the end, but I won’t be undermined. I seize my desk lamp and turn it on him. 

“The way I see it, you have two options,” I tell him before pulling open the top desk drawer. It’s shallow. Sturdy. Lockable. “Option one, I lock you in here for the rest of the semester, and you go slowly insane trying to claw your way out, ruining your nails and your smooth, supple skin. And we both know how vain you are.”

He trembles and I know he’s picturing cuticle damage. Wrinkles. Sagging knuckle skin. 

“Option two,” I offer magnanimously. “You pledge your undying loyalty to me.”

Instantly, he drops to his middle and pointer finger in an unmistakable kneel. The perpetual chessboard in my mind reorients, a new piece beside the queen on the board. My petty loss to Bianca today suddenly seems trivial. The unsettling encounter with Xavier even more so. I meant what I said to Principal Weems during our first meeting. This school could never hold me. 

“Our first order of business,” I say to Thing. “Escape this teenage purgatory.”

Thing begins to sign in response, and I scoff, rolling my eyes. 

“Of course I have a plan,” I say as all its different elements start to become clear in my mind’s eye, connections forming, possible futures shifting and settling. “And it begins now.”

For my entire life so far, I’ve avoided being truly psychoanalyzed. As I’m sure you imagine, it hasn’t been easy. Someone with my aesthetic and sensibilities seems easy fodder for the bottomfeeders of this profession. 

Typically, the plan is simple and effective. Control the narrative from the outset. Prey on the obvious wounds they offer up along with the introductory small talk. Shock and awe so they’re too busy reacting defensively to see that you’re blocking their attempts to dredge up some petty childhood trauma to earn their paycheck. 

This time, things will need to be slightly different. I can’t imagine someone whose client list is filled with Nevermore students would be as easy to spook as the guidance counselors I’ve tried it on in the past. I can’t count on her leaving the room screaming, so I’ll have to do the leaving part myself. 

Dr. Kinbott’s office is your classic quirky-neutral space. Probably put together by some office designer. I wonder if these “personal touches” are even personal to her or just things to prompt comment.

“So, Wednesday,” she says, coming in and closing the door behind her. “I read the notes from your school counselor.”

“Mrs. Bronstein,” I offer. “She had a nervous breakdown after our last session and had to take a six-month sabbatical.”

Dr. Kinbott appears unfazed by this. She gestures for me to sit, and I do. If only to lure her into a false sense of security. It’s part of phase one. “How did you feel about that?” she asks. 

Really reinventing the wheel here, I think. “Vindicated,” I say. “But someone who crochets for a hobby isn't a worthy adversary.”

She sits down across from me. Blond, thin, dressed in business comfortable. Pretty, but her stare is a little too intense. 

“Well, Wednesday, I hope you don’t think of me as your adversary,” she says. “I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect!”

I scoff. As if I could ever respect someone who coordinates her watch band and loafers.

“This is a safe space, Wednesday,” she enthuses. “A sanctuary where we can discuss anything. What you're thinking, feeling, your views on the world, personal philosophy.” She smiles at me after this, as if she’s offered me a real treat.

“That's easy,” I tell her. “I think that this is a waste of time. The world is a place that must be endured. And my personal philosophy is kill or be killed.”

To my extreme annoyance, her eyes light up at this. “Yes, for instance, when someone bullies your brother – your response is to dump piranha in the pool.”

How dare she. I’m aware my proclivity to protect Pugsley and the other sweaty, inept misfits who remind me of him is my one identifiable weakness. But to bring it up in the first five minutes is bad form, even for a shrink. 

“The point I’m trying to make is that you assaulted a boy,” she says, “and showed no remorse for your actions. That's why you're here. Because I believe you have deeper feelings that the judge understands. That maybe you’re hiding them. From the world. From yourself.”

This assessment makes my skin crawl. “He was a vicious, stupid bully,” I say. “If you’re wondering about my hidden emotions on the subject, allow me to enlighten you. He lost a testicle. I’m disappointed he didn’t lose them both. It would have been a favor to the world. People like Dalton shouldn't procreate. I've answered all your questions.” I get to my feet.

“We're not done yet,” Dr. Kinbott says. There’s a thread of steel in her voice that makes me wary. This is going to be harder than I thought. 

I sit back down, mentally diagramming a new approach. 

“Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself,” she says, back to her kindergarten teacher voice again. “It can help you build a life that you want.”

“I know the life that I want,” I say, shaking my head.

“Tell me about it,” she offers, leaning forward. “Everything said in these sessions is strictly confidential. Do your plans involve becoming an author? I understand you've written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte. Can you tell me about her?”

The intrusion of this stranger knowing about my books, about Viper, is enough to make me fast-track my plan. I give her the bullet points as I look for the exit. 

“Viper is smart, perceptive, chronically misunderstood,” I say.

“Any luck getting your work published?” she asks. 

“Editors are short-sighted, fear-based life forms,” I reply. “One once described my writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested I seek psychiatric help.”

“Ironic, isn't it?” she comments. “How did you take that?” 

“I sent her a ‘thank you’,” I replied thinking about the mousetraps I had sent her. “I've always been open to constructive criticism.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” she says. “Because I was sent the manuscripts as part of your psych evaluation. The relationship I found most intriguing was that of Viper and her mother, Dominica. Why don't we dig into that? Part of this journey requires us going to uncomfortable places emotionally.”

“I don't travel well,” I say with a smirk. “Would you mind if I use the powder room first?”

In the baby blue room, I open my bag. 

“Nail file,” I tell Thing, who passes it to me obediently. 

I am opening the window when I bump into something and it hits the floor with a bump.

“Wednesday?” Kinbott calls. “Is everything okay? You can't hide for the rest of the session.”

“I'm all right,” I called back to her. “Just preparing myself for our uncomfortable journey.”

By the time Kinbott calls out again, I’m already shimmying down the drainpipe to the sidewalk. I will Morticia to stay upstairs with the good doctor. Carrying her around has never done me any good. 

I know for a fact Principal Weems is waiting for me out front. She offered to take me for hot chocolate after my session. The only reason someone of her paygrade would be personally escorting me to therapy is to prevent an escape attempt. Even she wouldn’t expect me to get out within eight minutes, though. That gives me a head start – if only a small one.

Luckily, Jericho is the size of a postage stamp. I see the dinky little cafe she mentioned just up ahead. The Weathervane. I’ll get a jolt of caffeine and get some townie to call me a taxi. It doesn’t even matter where it takes me at this point. 

Crossing the street, lost in my plans, I collide with a farmer carrying a box of apples. 

It comes immediately. Just like it did with Pugsley in the locker. Suddenly, I’m not in my body anymore. I’m somewhere else. Seeing something I didn’t ask to see. This time it’s the apples, scattered along the side of the road. The farmer’s truck is wrecked. His neck is bent at a nauseating angle.

Before I can see the details, it’s over. The farmer in question, with his vertebrae neatly stacked, is staring at me like I’ve just confirmed his worst suspicions about Nevermore students simply by stumbling into his arm. 

You’re going to die, I think about telling him. 

“Who let you out?” he rasps. “You goddamn weirdo.”

I walk away without saying a word. 

Chapter Text

The bell over the cafe door rings as it opens again. I don’t look up, bracing for another annoying complaint about how the espresso machine is down from someone who wouldn’t have any idea how to even use it without burning themself. 

I finally glance up when I don’t hear the complaint, cough or impatient sigh of someone who needs coffee. The espresso machine lets off a puff of steam right into my arm and I yelp as I lower it, blocking it from sight. 

Standing before me is Wednesday Addams. Her black hair is in twin braids and she is wearing a black and grey Nevermore uniform. She is watching me for my reaction. I turn to face her and she looks me up and down. 

“Do you make a habit of scaring the hell out of people?” I ask her. 

I remember meeting Wednesday once when we were younger. She and I had been sent to the same Summer Camp. I doubt she remembers me, or Joel. I was twelve, she was ten and Joel was eleven. We’ve all changed a lot since then. 

“It's more of a hobby,” she replies. 

I smile as I glance back down at the instructions and read a few more lines. Italian isn’t really my favorite language to read in, but I get by pretty well. 

“I need a quad over ice,” I don’t look at her, just raise my brows. “It's an emergency.” At these words I look up at her. “It's four shots of espresso.”

I raise the manual and gesture to the espresso machine. I glance at my arm, not blistered, just red and hot. 

“I know what a quad is, but, spoiler alert, the espresso machine's having a seizure, so all we have is drip,” I reply. “So you can join the other people who hate themselves enough to have drip or you can get out. You can even throw in a few hateful words or throw some stuff across the room for me to clean up.” I look back down at the manual and ignore Mr. Jones glaring at me from the pot. “It wouldn’t be the first time today.”

“Drip is for people who know their lives have no real purpose or meaning,” Wednesday says. “What's wrong with your machine?”

“It's a temperamental beast with a mind of its own,” I reply. “And the earliest someone can get out to fix it is next week so I’m trying to brush up on my Italian.” 

She moves towards the counter and lifts the section of counter to let her back with me. 

“I need a tri-wing screwdriver and a four-millimeter Allen wrench,” Wednesday says, pulling off the front to get to the inside machinery. I hand her the tools and she continues. “Here's the deal. I'm going to fix your coffee machine, then you're going to make my coffee and call a taxi.”

“No taxis in Jericho,” I lean against the counter, watching her fix the machine. “Try Uber?”

“I don't have a phone,” Wednesday replies. “I refuse to be a slave to technology.”

“Then you're out of luck,” I sigh. “Where you going anyway?”

“That's on a need-to-know basis,” she replies. “What about trains?”

“Nearest station is Burlington,” I point in the general direction. “It's a half an hour drive away.”

She smiles and I watch as she continues to poke around the machine, clearly making it seem like she was doing me a bigger favor than she actually was. “You have a valve issue. I've seen it before. It’s the same one my steam-powered guillotine had. My poor dolls were doomed to partial decapitation until I figured it out.” 

The steam stops. I look Wednesday up and down. Scanning her the same way she has been scanning me. 

“Thanks,” I say, taking the tools back from her. “You’ve really done me a solid.” I put the tools into the little tool bag with the instructions. “I’m Calypso, by the way.”

“Wednesday.”

“How about, to show my appreciation, I drive you to Burlington?” I offer her as I start to make her Quad. 

“Perfect,” she says. “Put that quad in a to-go cup.”

“I don't get off for another hour,” I reply. 

“I'll sweeten the pot,” she holds up twenty dollars and I raise my brow. 

“Twenty whole dollars...” I comment. “Tempting, but no.”

“I'll make it forty,” she offers again.

“Listen, Wednesday, one fun fact about me... I can't be bought, so either wait, or find someone else to drive you,” I give her an ultimatum and her quad over ice. 

She stands there a moment, contemplating the choices before she takes her quad to the booth in the corner. 

I mentally cursed her poor choices in the booth. There are only six people in all of Jericho who sit there. Lucas and I, Xavier and Daisy and, of course, Jonah and Carter who are walking in right now. 

Wednesday doesn’t look up as Jonah and Carter stand beside the booth, looking down at her. 

“What's a Nevermore freak doing out in the wild?” Jonah asks. “This is our booth.”

“Why are you dressed like religious fanatics?” Wednesday asks, taking their bait. 

“We're pilgrims,” Carter defends his outfit as though he is personally offended Wednesday asked. 

“Potato, po-tah-to,” Wednesday shrugs. 

“We work at Pilgrim World,” Jonah flips over the menu and shows Wednesday the advertisement. 

“It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide,” Wednesday says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear her. 

I watch as Wednesday gets up and I make my way over to them ready to stop whatever bullshit they start.  

“Guys, back off,” I say to them, getting between them and Wednesday. 

“Stay out of this, Galpin,” Jonah threatens. 

“Get out,” I point towards the door. “Leave and learn some manners.”

I notice Carter clench his jaw and I see him move his fist, but I don’t react. His fist hits my jaw and I feel it pop and the force knocks me off my feet. From the floor I reach for my jaw, staying there for a moment before standing up, wiggling it, a bit sore, but nothing I can’t deal with. 

I watch Wednesday spin kick Jonah in the chin and I glance around at the other patrons who are watching in shock. 

“It’s fine,” I say to them. “Everything had been handled.”

The door opens and I see my father walking into the cafe. 

“Dad,” I say as he walks in, heading back behind the counter. 

“Cal, the hell's going on in here?” he asks. 

I don’t look up as I prepare his coffee. “They were harassing a customer, and she put them in their place.” 

“This little thing took down two boys?” he asks. 

The bell rings and I see Principal Larissa Weems walk in. I glare at her and she returns the disdainful look before turning to my father. 

“Apologies, Sheriff,” she says. “This one slipped away from me. Come on, Miss Addams, time to go.” 

My father freezes as I’m handing him his coffee. He stops Weems and Wednesday. 

“Wait a minute, hang on,” he says. “You're an Addams? Don't tell me Gomez Addams is your father? That man belongs behind bars for murder. Guessin' the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm gonna keep my eye on you.”

I watch Wednesday shift and then Weems is dragging her out the door. 

My father turns back to me and takes the coffee. Drip, of course, with sugar. 

“You stay away from that girl,” he says. 

“Got it,” I reply as I turn away from him. 

My phone dings with a message and I wait for him to leave before checking the message. 

Meet me. 11 o’clock.

Chapter Text

I avoided the room as long as I could, spending time with Ajax, Divina and Yoko in the library. Eventually it reached 9:30 and I had to get back before curfew. 

I slipped inside the room and noticed that Wednesday was not there and was about to start getting ready for bed when I heard the music stop. About thirty minutes ago everyone had heard the music begin, but none of us knew where it was coming from. 

I looked out the window and saw Wednesday sitting on the balcony with some kind of string instrument. 

“No, I don't really feel better,” Wednesday says to someone outside. “There's just something wrong about this place. Not just because it's a school.”

I open the window and step outside onto the balcony. I hear the other wolves in the distance and frown before facing Wednesday.  

“How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?” I ask her, trying to keep up the bitterness from earlier. 

But I just don’t have the energy to be convincing. Not now anyways. 

“I had an extra hand,” she replies and I watch as a disembodied hand waves to me from her music stand. 

I step closer out of sheer surprise. “Whoa. Where's the rest of him?”

“It's one of the great Addams family mysteries,” she... smiles. Maybe. I’m almost sure that she’s smiling. Then the wolves howl again and I step towards the edge. “Why aren't you wolfing out?”

 I rock back and forth on my heels before answering. “Because I can't,” I flash my claws at her. “That’s all I got.” I step closer to both her and the balcony, leaning against it I continue. “My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I've been to the best Lycanologist. I had to fly to Milwaukee, would you believe it?” I smile, almost trying to cover up the hurt. “Yeah, she says there's a chance I may never... you know.”

I glance back at Wednesday and see that she has risen from her chair. She stands behind me with her arms crossed. 

“What happens then?” she asks. 

“I'd become a lone wolf,” I look up at the full moon. 

I’ve considered this loads of times. Back when Nevermore kids were still on good terms with some of the Normies, I remember having someone who was also an outsider among her people on my side. I miss those days, but it just all became complicated...

“Sounds perfect,” Wednesday comments. 

“Are you kidding me?” I ask her. “My life would be officially over. I'd be kicked out of my family pack with no prospect of finding a mate.”

Before it probably wouldn’t have bugged me as much, when I still had people that I could turn to, but now... it just felt like it would be lonely. 

“I'm failing to see the problem here,” she sounds genuinely confused and she 

“I could die alone,” I say, angrily. 

“We all die alone, Enid,” she says with more emotion than I thought she was capable of and I start to cry. 

“You really suck at this,” I place my head in my hands and focus on the stone balcony. “Cheering people up.”

“Why are you crying?” Wednesday asks. 

“Because I'm upset!” I raise my voice as I turn to look at her. “Haven't you ever cried, or are you above that too?”

There is silence between us and I watch her as her face changed ever so slightly before she begins talking. 

“It was the week after Halloween,” I turn my head towards her and listen to her story. “I was six years old. I took my pet scorpion, Nero, out for his afternoon stroll, and we were ambushed. They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion for a pet. Two of them held me down and made me watch... while the others ran Nero over until…” She pauses and I can see her lost in the memories. “It was snowing when I buried what was left of him. I cried my little black heart out. But tears don't fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again.”

“Your secret's safe with me,” I nod, looking out at the full moon. “Still think you're weird as shit, though.”

“The feeling is incredibly mutual,” she meets my gaze and for a moment I realize that we might actually be friends, until she says her next words. “How would you like your single room back?” I looked at her confused since I had thought that we were bonding. “You just need to show me how to use your computer.”

Thing left soon after I gave Wednesday the phone number and I wasn’t exactly sure who she was trying to reach out to since she really hadn’t been here all that long. I gave her a quick run down on how to use my laptop and then I moved back over to my side of the room to write my blog for the day. 

I didn’t look up when the computer rang, but I did make sure to listen for the connecting noise to make sure Wednesday knew what she was doing with my laptop. 

“Uh... hi,” came the voice on the other side of the screen. 

Despite the distortion from the audio, I knew the voice immediately. 

“Calypso?” I ask. 

“Enid?” she asks. 

“You two know each other,” Wednesday asks. 

“Yeah,” I replied. “She’s the one giving you a ride out of town?”

“I think so,” Calypso says. “When do you want me to come get you?”

“This weekend,” Wednesday answers. “The Harvest Festival. Attendance is mandatory; it’ll make for the perfect cover. If you drive me to the train station, I can make it worth your while.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” Calypso says. 

I watch as Wednesday tenses. “Why?”

I still can’t see Calypso, but I can hear the sadness in her voice when she speaks. It is unfamiliar. I can’t remember a time when Calypso Galpin was ever sad. 

“Because I wish I was going with you,” she admits. “At least someone is getting out of this hellhole town.”

The conversation ends pretty quickly after that and I take the laptop back from Wednesday. 

“Why did you sound so surprised when you found out that Calypso was driving me?” Wednesday asks. 

“Because of what happened with her and us,” I reply thinking back to Outreach Day. “She and Xavier were together and Daisy was her best friend. Then...“ I hesitate as I try to find the words. “The incident occurred. She and Xavier broke up, Daisy and her got in a huge fight and it seemed like something that they would get over, but then they didn’t. And then once everyone got back from winter break we found out that she was best friends with Lucas Walker, who we all know hated outcasts, and we just stopped talking to her. It really sucks because she was like a sister to me and then we just lost her.”

“What is ‘the incident’?” Wednesday asks. 

“No one except Daisy, Xavier, Calypso and Lucas Walker know,” I reply. “The rumor is that there was some kind of incident that landed Calypso and Lucas in legal trouble and then all of them had to sign NDA’s for it. But I think it’s just something that none of them want to talk about.” I look at Wednesday who seems to be considering the new information. “Just be careful while you’re doing this. I don’t want to hear that something bad happened.”

Chapter Text

Calypso and I had been good friends for about a year, but we had known each other since we were kids. Since my dad is the mayor and hers was the Sheriff, we spent a lot of time hanging out as kids. I remember in middle school when there was a poll going around for the yearbook of the pair that was most likely to end up together. While Calypso and I weren’t as close at that point we were still voted for and ended up with our picture together in the yearbook. 

Neither of us really minded that our classmates thought we would end up together, but it did make me consider her in a new light. Then last year I asked her out and she told me that she was already seeing someone, but she did want to be friends again. 

Calypso was historically a very nice person and I couldn’t be mad at her for rejecting me. We ended up becoming good friends, especially after the incident, and we still are. 

There were several reasons why Calypso and I were being forced to come to the Harvest Festival. The first being our dads and the last being that someone (my mom most likely) pulled strings and got Calypso and I chosen as the Harvest Festival King and Queen. This of course meant that on Friday we got crowned at the dance, Saturday we were in the parade and on Sunday we had to walk around the festival and pretend to be enjoying ourselves. 

Calypso and I arrived separately and when we met up at one of the many food stands she had a look on her face that made me pause. She held out her popcorn as she smiled at me. 

“No,” I narrowed my eyes at her. 

“I haven’t even said anything,” she looks offended and I shake my head. 

“You have that look on your face that says that you’re going to need an alibi,” I say, taking some popcorn. “Am I right?”

“I just need you to spend the night avoiding my dad so that I can claim I was with you,” she starts walking towards the games and I sigh before following her. “I can ask someone else–”

“No,” I agree. “I can do that. What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m taking someone to the train station in Burlington,” she says. 

I follow her gaze to two girls standing together at the edge of the games. I recognize one of them as Enid Sinclair, an outcast that had practically imprinted on Calypso like a duckling. The other girl I don’t recognize, but I have heard about how she took out Carter and Jonah at the Weathervane. 

“Calypso,” I say. 

“Lucas,” she echoes.

“Please tell me we are not getting involved with the Nevermore students again,” I practically beg. 

“There is no we,” she replies. “And all I’m doing is taking Wednesday to the train station.”

“After what happened last time there is always a we,” I tell her. “And I’m holding you to only taking Wednesday to the station. Just... make sure you text me when you get to the station and when you get back. If I haven’t heard from you by one I’m calling your dad and telling him everything I know.”

“Got it,” she smiles. “Thank you.”

We walk over to Enid and Wednesday who are at a dart game. Enid is already holding a panda and Wednesday wins a second one. Calypso stops walking suddenly and I stop just behind her. 

I see it immediately. 

Daisy Kinbott and Xavier Thorpe have stopped to talk to Enid and Wednesday. 

“Jeez, you get any better at this, you'll be taking home a whole pack,” Xavier comments. 

“Pandas don't travel in packs,” Wednesday replies. “They prefer solitude.”

“Message received," Daisy says.

“You should know we’re waiting for someone,” Wednesday replies.

“Oh yeah, who's the lucky guy... or girl?” Xavier asks. 

“What does it matter to you?” Enid questions. 

Calypso finally walks over to the group. 

“Didn't mean to interrupt,” she announces her presence. 

It is like lightning had struck the group. Wednesday remains unfazed, but Xavier, Enid and Daisy freeze up before turning to Calypso. 

“Cal,” Daisy says. 

“Don’t,” Calypso’s voice gets cold. 

“You changed your hair,” Enid comments. 

Calypso had changed her hair during the spring break which was a few months after any of them last saw her. Her long dark brown, almost black hair, was now short and blonde. 

“Yeah,” Calypso reaches for the ends of her hair. “I did it a while ago.”

“We’ve got to meet up with the others,” Daisy says. 

I watch her and Xavier leave and Calypso smiles at Enid and Wednesday. 

“I've got some dead weight I need to lose first,” Wednesday says and we all glance back and see Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore, watching us ‘discreetly’. “Meet me behind the parking lot when the fireworks start.” She turns towards the attendant. “You see that sad, lonely woman over there? She needs this pathetic validation more than I do. Would you mind distracting her?”

Calypso and I head to the parking lot and she pulls out a file. 

“If we end up in trouble I’m going to kill you,” I tell her. “Because that had better not be a police file. Please tell me that is not one of your dad’s police files.”

“Don’t worry,” Calypso says. “It’s a cold case.”

“For goodness sake, Calypso,” I exclaim. 

Wednesday approaches us and Calypso holds out the file to Wednesday.  

“Hey, before you leave,” she says. “I wanted you to have this. It's your dad's police file from when he was at Nevermore. I think it's the reason my dad hates him.” She looks confused and Calypso glances back at me. “You okay?”

“I'm not used to people engaging with me,” Wednesday replies. “Most see me coming and cross the street.”

“You're not scary,” Calypso replies. “You're just kinda... kooky.”

“I prefer spooky,” Wednesday corrects. “Now my train leaves in an hour. We're burning moonlight.”

I’m about to head back to the festival for a long night of avoiding both of my parents and the Sheriff when I see Jonah and Carter holding baseball bats. 

“Cal,” I call, but she has already seen them and she is shoving Wednesday through the crowd. 

I follow Calypso and Wednesday as they move through the crowd. I watch as Wednesday collides with a Nevermore kid and then something happens and she falls towards the ground. Calypso and I catch her and after a moment she wakes. As soon as she is awake she is ignoring our concern and running after the Nevermore boy. I quickly lose track of her and Calypso in the crowd. 

I’m near the edge of the forest when I hear a shout of surprise from someone that sounds like Wednesday. I thought we had gotten away from Jonah and Carter, but if they had found Wednesday... I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid for her or them. 

“What are you doing?” Wednesday shouts. 

I am about to rush forward into the clearing when I spot the Nevermore student that Wednesday ran into holding up his hand and Wednesday was against a tree. I, understandably, froze in my spot. 

“Saving everyone from you,” he grunts. “I have to kill you.”

“The gargoyle, that was you?” Wednesday asks. 

He nods and I watch as a piece of paper flies up beside her face. It’s far enough away that I can’t clearly see the image, but she is clearly surprised. 

“Girl in the picture,” he says. “That's you.” 

“You want to kill me because of some picture?” The astonishment in her voice is almost equivalent to the surprise I feel. 

“My mother drew that picture 25 years ago when she was a student at Nevermore,” he says. “She was a powerful Seer. Told me about it before she died.”

“Rowan, put me down,” Wednesday orders. 

“No!” he, Rowan, shouts. “My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore, because she will destroy the school and everyone in it.”

The wind starts to blow and I realize that Rowan is doing it.

“Rowan,” Wednesday shouts. “Rowan.”

She reaches towards her neck and I unfreeze. I run towards the kid, but before I can get to him, something else has. 

It is taller than any person could be, maybe ten feet tall. Its eyes are huge and its skin is grey. It has claws that are probably five or six inches long and then I cannot see them anymore because they are buried in Rowan’s chest. 

It looks absolutely monstrous. 

I hear Wednesday fall to the ground by the tree, but I don’t turn away from the monster until it has run back into the trees. I look down at Rowan and see the paper fall onto his chest. 

The page shows a girl who looks exactly like Wednesday holding a sword as Nevermore burns around her. 

Chapter Text

I walk through the woods with a destination in mind. It is chilly, understandably. It is mid October and I am carrying the tattered remains of my clothing and my boots that I had taken off.

I finally reached the tree and I pulled out the bag of clothes that I had stashed a while ago. There were several stashes around the woods that I could choose from if need be, but today it was more important that I go with something close by. 

The clothes inside the bag were a pair of black leggings with a white tank top and my red jacket. I pulled on the clothes and started to run towards the scene and I see Weems is talking to Laurel. She is convincing Weems to make it seem like Rowan wasn’t actually dead.

I catch her eyes as I move towards the Festival. Her gaze hardens and I know that I’m in for it. 

I finally get to the Harvest Festival and Bianca is nearby Wednesday and Daisy is right beside her while Xavier lurks over her shoulder. 

I feel a hand touch my arm and I turn, swinging. 

Lucas steps to the side, anticipating my response. He only had to get clocked three times before he caught on to my instincts. 

“Cal,” Lucas says. “Something happened.”

“What is it?” I ask him. 

Lucas and I sit down and he explains it all to me. How he saw Wednesday getting attacked, about the painting, and then about the monster that killed Rowan. 

“It was like nothing I had ever seen,” he says. “I have never seen anything like it.”

“Do you think Wednesday knows what it is?” I ask him. 

“I don’t think Wednesday knows I was there,” he replies. “But I think that that’s the thing that’s been killing people in the woods.”

“We need to tell my dad,” I say. 

“We can’t,” Lucas says. “He’ll never believe us. I heard that Weems is going to cover it up. It’s our word and the word of Wednesday Addams against a Nevermore cover up.”

He is, of course, right. No one has believed us since the incident. 

I watch Weems leave the clearing, straighten her blouse and then she places a call. If I focused I could hear the call, but I don’t need to. She’s calling people to cover it up before Wednesday can get the proper authorities involved. 

“You realize what this means?” I ask him. 

“You can’t say it until tomorrow,” he replies. “Would you mind driving me home?”

“Yeah,” I agree and then say exactly what we both know. “You just got us involved in Nevermore again.”

He groans and we stand up and head towards my car. As we’re walking away I notice Xavier looking at me, confused. I just head to the driver’s side and Lucas gets in the passenger side. 

I drive up to my house and I park. From there I head directly into the woods and head towards the cave where I know Laurel will be waiting. 

The last time Laurel called on me was a few days ago, but it is still fresh in my mind. She wasn’t happy that Wednesday wanted to leave and she wanted me to find a way to get her to stay. 

Laurel is waiting for me when I get to the cave. She is holding a knife in her hands and I face her as an equal for a moment before she gives me a look and I get down on my knees. 

“Why did you reveal yourself?” Laurel asks in a deceptively sweet voice.

I take a moment before answering her. “The Nevermore student was going to kill her. You wanted her alive.”

“I need her alive, yes,” Laurel agrees. “But you didn’t have to reveal yourself. You have handled the situation without revealing yourself.”

“Yes,” I say. 

“That wasn’t a question,” Laurel slashes with the knife and I feel it slice through my cheek. 

“Sorry, Master,” I say. 

I know the wound has healed before the blood can even drip from the wound. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to her?” Laurel asks. 

“You wanted me to make sure that she stayed here,” I replied. “I thought that if she had a mystery to solve then she would stay to solve it.”

“Did you think that she would save you?” Laurel questions. 

“Save me?” I ask. 

“Did you think that Wednesday Addams would be able to free you?” 

“No,” I reply. 

While I hoped she might figure it out, I doubted that anyone could save me now. 

“Good,” Laurel says. “I want you to skip all meals for the next two days. And remember, you cannot tell anyone what we’re doing here, sweetie.”

She leaves the knife behind and I sit in the cave for a moment pondering the last words. 

You cannot tell anyone what we’re doing here.

Who would I tell? 

No one would believe me. 

Chapter Text

I wake in my dorm room to the sound of my crystal ball ringing, I have no memory of how I got there. The last thing I remember is stumbling out of the woods, having only reluctantly left Rowan’s mangled body behind. 

Bianca Barclay, I recall vaguely. She was the first person I saw. I asked her to go for help. Most likely I lost consciousness after that. It’s not my proudest moment, but the body does strange things to protect itself from trauma. And as much as I’ve fictionalized death in the past, Rowan’s murder was the first time I’ve ever seen someone torn apart in front of me. 

Although hopefully not the last. 

“Hello, my little black cloud!” my father says as I wave my hand over the crystal ball and answer the call. 

My mother is there, too, of course, pushing him out of the frame. “So tell us darling,” she says. “How was your first week?”

I flash back on all that has happened since I was dropped off on the Nevermore grounds. It feels like so much more than a week has passed. I’ve narrowly avoided death twice, discovered my father may be a murderer, learned that I could potentially destroy the school, and was saved by a homicidal monster. 

“As much as it pains me to admit,” I begin, “you were right, Mother. I think I’m going to love it here.”

My parents beam. They want details but I can’t get them off the crystal ball fast enough. I need to speak to Weems and the sheriff immediately. Find out what they know already. Offer my firsthand account...

“Wednesday,” Weems says, alarm on her painted features when I catch her and the sheriff walking into the entrance of the main building. “I’ll have to connect with you later. The sheriff and I are on our way to my office to discuss–”

“Rowan’s murder,” I cut in. “I was there. I saw him die.”

The sheriff is already shaking his head. “The girl told us what you said, and we looked all night. But there’s no evidence of a murder. No body, no blood, no sign of a struggle. Nothing.”

Suddenly, I’m back there. As if it’s happening right in front of me again. Rowan, eyes open wide in terror. His blood splattering everywhere. No evidence... I think. But how can that be?

“Your search party must have left their seeing-eye dogs at home,” I snap. “I saw that monster kill Rowan right in front of me.”

The sheriff pauses on the landing of the Nevermore entrance hall stairs. When he looks at me, I see the same suspicion in his eyes from the Weathervane, and I know he’s seeing my father in his youth. What I wouldn’t give to know what else his recollections are showing him. 

“Did you get a good look at this monster thing?” he asks. 

Hulking mass, large yellow eyes, strangely intelligent for a brute. “It didn't stick around for a chat,” I say, I’m not going to share information if I’m not getting as good in return. This interaction is a transaction, plain and simple. 

“Maybe it was one of your classmates,” the sheriff says, stepping closer. His eyes are bloodshot. Grief, I think. Or self-doubt. Something’s eating at him. 

“Sheriff, I find that question offensive!” Weems exclaims, escorting us farther up the stairs, breaking this strange staring contest we’re engaged in. 

“I don't care,” Galpin growls. “I got three other dead bodies in the morgue. Hikers just ripped apart in the woods.”

Flesh tearing. Rowan screaming. Blood splattering. 

With us now in the safety of her office, Weems turns a critical eye on the sheriff. “The mayor said those were bear attacks,” she says pointedly. 

Galpin finally looks away from me to focus on Weems – she towers over him by at least a foot, but he doesn’t look intimidated in the least. “Well,” he says, “the mayor and I disagree on that.”

I watch like I’m at a tennis match. Weems puffs up to her full height. “Oh, so you automatically assume a Nevermore student is the murderer, even though there's no evidence a crime was even committed.”

Sheriff Galpin grunts. “I'm sorry. I forgot, you only teach the good outcasts here, right?”

The moment of tension hangs between them for longer than a beat. It feels thick and storied. I wonder what history is between these two. Is this just Weems taking Outcast advocacy to the nth degree? Or is there more to it...?

But then, before I can surmise any more, Weems shakes it off. Her countenance settles on coolly professional. “My guess is Rowan ran away. State troopers have put out an alert, and I've contacted his family, but they haven't heard from him either.”

My chest, compressed by telekinesis. Rowan’s drawing. His determined tearful eyes...

“Dead people are notoriously bad at returning calls,” I say, and the sheriff seems to remember I’m here at last.

“What were you doing out in the woods with him, Ms. Addams?”

“I heard a noise in the forest and went to investigate,” I answer promptly. “That's when I stumbled upon the attack.” Lying to authority figures has never been a moral qualm of mine. Besides, if Sheriff Galpin thinks I’m an Outcast now, I doubt detailing the neural malfunctions that cause my visions will endear me to him as a reliable source. 

“Then what happened?” he asks. 

“I left the woods quickly, ran into Bianca Barclay, felt myself becoming faint from shock, and I told her to go for help. Next thing I remember, I was waking in my dorm.”

“And just to be clear, this monster wasn't a bear or some other wild animal?” Galpin asks. 

“I've hibernated with grizzlies,” I reply flatly. “I know the difference.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. I think Miss Addams is done now.” Principal Weems says in a tone that suggests she’s doing me a favor. 

“Actually,” I interject. “I would like to speak to Sheriff Galpin. Alone.”

Weem’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I'm not sure I can allow that.”

But the sheriff’s attention is piqued. “I'm sure I could take her to the station and get a formal statement? Come with me, Miss Addams.”

I’m about to submit calmly to police escort for the first time in my life and Weems folds like a napkin. “Fine. You have five minutes,” she says, stepping briskly toward the door. “And everything is off the record.” At the door she hones in on the sheriff with those intimidating, narrowed eyes. “Play nice... or I will call the mayor.”

And with that she’s gone. 

I know I need to make the most of my time, so I turn to Galpin immediately. “Someone is trying to cover up Rowan's murder,” I blurt out. “That's the only reason to scrub the crime scene.”

He looks skeptical to say the least. “Is that your professional opinion as the daughter of a murderer?” 

“My father's twice the man you are, and the only thing he murders is the occasional opera in the shower,” I reply. 

“It's been a long night,” he says. “I'm tired of your games.”

“I'm not playing games,” I reason. “I'm telling the truth. You want to reject my claims but you can't.”

“Why is that?” he asks. 

I step closer, lowering my voice so he has to step closer to lean in to listen. “Because you and I both know there's a monster out there. And Rowan is his latest victim.”

A feeling of power courses through me, electric as the sheriff’s expression registers his agreement. I know I have him then. That with his help I can find out what really happened to Rowan. What the beast is. Why is saved me, and — 

“Sheriff?” comes the voice of his deputy as she opens the office door. 

“What?” he snaps, still not looking away from me. 

“You’re gonna want to see this.”

The door grows wider, and I can’t help but follow his gaze to Rowan. Plaid shirt, hoodie, glasses, an embarrassed smile on his face. He waves, and just like that I’ve lost the sheriff. Lost my theory. Lost everything but my favorite Edgar Allen Poe quote: Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see. 

Poe is Nevermore's most famous alumni. 

No wonder he became a drսg madman. 

“Help me understand why you claim you witnessed a murder,” Kinbott says. “Was it to gain attention?”

“Why should I bother telling you anything?” I ask her honestly. “You've already decided I'm lying. I know what I saw.”

“Your life's had a lot of upheaval recently,” Kinbott assures me. “It's okay to be confused about things.”

“Don't try and lure me into one of your psychological traps,” I warn her. 

“No one is trying to trap you,” I know she is lying. “I'm here to help you process your emotions.”

“Emotions are a gateway trait,” I tell her. “They lead to feelings, which trigger tears.” I think about Nero and how I told Enid about him. “I don't do tears.”

“Tell me how you're adjusting to school,” she asks. 

“Sartre said, ‘Hell is other people’,” I quote. “He was my first crush.”

“Wednesday,” Kibott says. “Part of the reason your parents sent you to Nevermore is so you could find your people. Become part of a larger community.”

“I like being an island,” I reply. “A well-fortified one surrounded by sharks.”

“Have you considered your antisocial tendencies might be motivated by fear of rejection?” Kinbott asks. 

“If you were to reject me, I would not be upset.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily,” she looks at the clock. “And look, you made it through an entire session without trying to escape. I'll take that as a win.”

I am on my way out of Doctor Kinbott’s office, ready to purge my tortured brain of her platitudes, when I run into Calypso Galpin. 

“Hey,” she says. “Guess you decided to stick around Jericho.” She pushes a few golden strands of hair behind her ear and adjusts her headband. “I didn’t know you see Dr. Kinbott too?”

I don’t bother to stop walking. My head is full of the good doctor telling me that keeping people at arm’s distance emotionally stems from a fear of rejection. Revolutionary. The truth is that Calypso is Sheriff Galpin’s daughter. And I don’t want to hear that she thinks I’m as crazy as her father does.

“You should know I'm legally required to be here,” I say when she follows me across the street. 

“Me too,” she smiles for no earthly reason. “Court ordered.”

She glances back at the building. 

“Look at us,” I say. “A couple of teenage tearaways.”

“So, last night,” she says. “Are you okay? I heard from Lucas what happened and...”

Calypso trails off. She wants me to finish this for her. Admit I was doing it for attention. Prove her right about Outcasts and weirdos and Nevermore. 

I whip around to face her at last. If she’s going to force this, I’m not going to make it easy on her. “Everyone, including your father, believes I made it all up.”

I am about to continue when she cuts me off. 

“I know what it is like to not be believed,” she says. “But I believe you, Wednesday. So does Lucas.”

Her phone rings and interrupts her. She looks down at it and then glares up at the building where I now see that Valerie Kinbott is watching from her window. 

“I have to go,” Calypso’s tone is more bitter than I have heard before. “Just remember Lucas and I believe you about what happened.”

I think back to Calypso’s friend who was standing in the background yesterday. 

Somehow this does make me feel better, knowing that Calypso and her friend believe me. 

Chapter Text

The day had started way too early with Enid banging on all of the doors in Ophelia Hall. Of the nine residents of Ophelia Hall, six of us were working on the Poe Cup boat and Enid, Yoko and I were going to be in the boat. 

Enid had been a nervous wreck the past couple weeks leading up to this and now we finally had to put in the last work. 

Everyone had decided that in order to avoid sabotage we would build the boat the day before which is why Enid was ready to go at the crack of dawn. 

We had allowed the kiddos of the dorm to sleep and of course Wednesday was allowed to skip after what happened yesterday leaving us with six people and Enid was not going easy on us. 

“Ladies, come on!” Enid shouts. “Let's work on those teeth. More scowl. This kitty is taking no prisoners. If Bianca Barclay wins again this year, I will literally scratch my own eyes out!”

“She does realize that Bianca is definitely going to win, right?” Stacey asks with a yawn. 

I ignore her as Wednesday walks up to Enid. “I would pay money to see that.”

“Howdy, roomie!” Enid’s mood takes a sharp turn upwards and I share a look with Yoko. “I'm so glad you decided to stay.”

Wednesday looks a bit surprised, but Enid doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I thought you wanted your single room back,” Wednesday asks.

“Full disclosure, I don't like living solo and Thing gives a killer neck massage,” Enid smiles brightly. “It's a win-win. So... why the change of heart?”

“I refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else's corrupt game,” Wednesday replies as she walks by us. 

“You mean Rowan?” Enid asks, her expression is pitying and I know Wednesday isn’t going to like that. 

“I witnessed his murder, Enid,” Wednesday insists. 

“It's just, we all saw him this morning,” Enid smiles, sadly. “Very much, like, not dead.”

I watch Wednesday’s fists clench. She stands for a moment and then responds to Enid. “I know. Which leads me to believe I've been losing my mind. It's not nearly as fun as I had anticipated.” Enid smiles again, this time it is genuine. “You're Nevermore's gossip queen. What's Rowan's story?”

“Other than being a weird loner...” she says. “Uh... No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Xavier Thorpe's his roommate,” for a moment I consider texting Xavier a heads up on the high likelihood that Wednesday was going to look into him. “If you had a cell phone, you could just text him and ask him...” She trails off for a moment before her eyes focus on Yoko’s hands. “Yoko. Come on! Flare those whiskers. The Poe Cup droops for no one.”

Yoko and I exchange looks. Enid is taking this a bit too seriously. 

“What is the Poe Cup anyway?” Wednesday asks. 

She sounds curious, but I can’t help but wonder if it is genuine curiosity or just her feigning interest. 

“My entire reason for living right now,” Enid answers with enthusiasm. “Part canoe race, part foot chase, no rules. Each dorm has to pick an Edgar Allan Poe short story for inspiration. You could grab a brush. Ms. Thornhill's just ordered pizza. Want to take a stab at being social?”

In my head I consider the fact that Wednesday is more likely to stab us. 

“I do like stabbing.” My point is proven. “The social part, not so much. Besides, it'll cut into my writing time.”

“No worries,” Enid replies. “Just as long as you're lakeside cheering us to victory on race day.” There is a silence as Wednesday looks at Enid. “Or you can just glare uncomfortably. Whatever works for you.”

I was in a meeting with Weems when Wednesday burst in. 

“I need to speak with Rowan,” she is clearly trying to sound authoritative, but Weems and I are unimpressed. “I can't find him.”

“It won't be possible, I'm afraid,” Weems replies, almost casually. “He's been expelled.”

“For what?” Wednesday looks completely surprised. 

“Never you mind,” Weem says. “He'll be on the first train out this afternoon. What were you doing out in the woods with him?”

“I told you already,” Wednesday looks at me suspiciously. “I heard a noise, and I went to investigate.”

Weems scoffs and for a moment I wonder if she has forgotten that I am present. “That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can't fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn't you?” Wednesday freezes and I know Weems struck gold. “I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck. Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable and dangerous.” As it is for most people who have psychic visions. “I remember at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them?” There is a silence that covers the room. “Clearly the person withholding information here is you.”

“May I go now?” Wednesday asks, curtly.

“Not until you've picked your extracurricular activity,” Weems looks over the paper that I had put together. “We want our students to be well-rounded.”

“I'd prefer to remain sharp-edged,” Wednesday comments. 

“I arranged for a list of clubs that have openings,” Weems replies, ignoring Wednesday’s sharp barb. 

“How thoughtful,” she says, clearly peeved.

“You need to have picked one by the end of the day,” Weems says. “Miss Kinbott will show you each of the clubs.” She hands me the paper and I fight the urge to cringe. I doubt Wednesday was aware of my connection to Dr. Kinbott before, but she obviously was now. “No doubt you'll find something that tickles your fancy.”

“Miss Kinbott?” Wednesday asks. 

“Dr. Kinbott is my official guardian,” I reply. “She’s my adoptive mother.”

The walk to the choir practice is long and tense. I already know that this will not be the school activity for Wednesday, but I know that she will want to speak with Bianca and this is the best place to do so. I allow Wednesday to trail behind me, but I keep an ear out as she speaks to her dear severed hand. 

“Weems is clearly trying to keep tabs on me,” Wednesday says. “Keep an eye on Rowan. Don't let your fingers out of his sight.”

As we approach the choir I am reminded of just how exclusive the choir is. There is no one else involved except for sirens. Bianca is conducting the choir, most likely because the former botany teacher was the choir head, but since Thornhill replaced her there had been no replacement chosen and therefore Bianca lead the choir. 

“Weems said you'd be stopping by,” Bianca turns to face us, looking us up and down. “But to be honest, after your performance at the Harvest Festival, drama club might be more your speed.”

“After I passed out, who did you tell?” Wednesday asks immediately. “The sheriff?”

“You think I'd trust normie cops?” Bianca asks. “I went straight to Weems and let her handle it. If anyone knows how little we should trust normie cops it would be Daisy though, have you talked to her? She was the one who brought you back to the school.” I glare at Bianca, I was kind of hoping to avoid the interrogation list. “Anyway, let's get this audition over with. What are you? Alto, soprano or just loco?”

Wednesday opens her mouth and sings a note. For a moment there is nothing and then I see the glasses on the piano player shatter and the windows around us crack. 

“What was that?” Bianca asks. 

“A note only dogs can hear,” Wednesday replies in a deadpan voice. 

“We should be going,” I say quickly. “Lots of clubs to visit.”

I lead Wednesday away from the choir rehearsal just as three werewolves run into the Quad (Pentagon). 

“Great job, little raven,” I compliment her. 

She looks at me questioningly, but we don’t say anything more.

Xavier is waiting by the targets. He isn’t hitting the targets as he warms up and I know for a fact that he is thinking about Calypso Galpin. 

When was he not though. 

Xavier didn’t look at us as we approached. 

“Ever shot a bow and arrow before?” Xavier asks. 

“Only on live targets,” Wednesday replies as Xavier releases another arrow. 

This one strikes the center of the target. 

He hands the bow off to her. “Then you already know the proper stance. Though you should probably keep in mind that Weems and the other teachers discourage hitting live targets. Any questions?” 

Wednesday takes an arrow and strings the bow as Xavier and I watch. 

“When's the last time you saw your roommate Rowan?” she asks. 

“You mean the one that was killed by a monster?” Xavier asks, mocking her, a bold move considering she is now holding the bow and arrow ready. “The Harvest Festival. I haven't talked to him since. But his side of the room was all packed this morning.” 

There is a silence and Wednesday releases the arrow before handing the bow off to me and Xavier continues. “Rowan's always been a little off, but, uh, the last couple weeks he's been more erratic. You know, telekinesis can mess with your head, you know. He's... It started to freak me out.” 

I consider the bow in my hand and I take out an arrow. I haven’t done archery before, at least not as far as I can remember. 

“So what's the deal with you and Calypso?” I lower the bow as I look at him surprised. Even between the two of us she is a taboo subject. “I'm sorry, were you the only one who got to ask non-archery questions?”

“There is no deal,” Wednesday replies. “She was doing me a favor driving me out of town.”

Xavier is about to respond when I raise the bow, barely taking the time to aim and release the arrow. Right where Wednesday’s arrow had made the bullseye, my arrow had split hers down the middle. 

Wednesday and I are walking through the woods to get to the final group on the list, the only one that I thought she might actually enjoy when she starts interrogating me. 

“Why were you the one to drive me back to Nevermore?” she asks. 

“I had a car,” I tell her honestly. “And I’m in Ophelia Hall. Thornhill asked me to.” I glance at her as she walks behind me and I notice the quizzical expression on her face. “What is it?”

“You seem familiar,” Wednesday admits. “Have we met before?”

“Before meeting in the pentagon shaped Quad?” I ask. “I wouldn’t know. I have the tragic backstory of not knowing anything from before I was found running for my life in the woods.” She stops and I look back at her. “The first thing I can remember is running through the woods. I know that I was terrified, but I don’t know what I was scared of. I had blood all over me, but the cops never found out who the blood belonged to, or who I was before. I got given the name Daisy and I got adopted by–”

“Doctor Kinbott,” Wednesday finishes. “And the lack of answers is why–”

“Why Bianca said what she did,” I reply. “Up ahead is the Bee Shed. I think you’ll actually like this one.”

We reach the shed and Eugene Ottinger is waiting for us. 

“Are you interested in the ancient art of beekeeping?” he chuckles and introduces himself. “Eugene. Eugene Ottinger. Founder and president of the Nevermore Hummers.”

“Wednesday,” she replies, reaching out to shake his offered hand. “Wednesday Addams. Are we late or is it only you?”

“The hive life isn't for everyone. Most kids are afraid of venomous insects.” He steps forward, smiling. “Are you willing to feel the sting?”

Wednesday nods and I leave to tell Weems about the club that Wednesday has chosen.  

Weems was not in her office so I went down to the front entrance to watch the birds. Rowan is being shown out as I arrive by Thornhill and then I see the little raven arrive. 

“Rowan!” Wednesday shouts, clearly out of breath. “We need to talk.”

He turns, locking eyes with Wednesday. 

“Wednesday, I'm not allowed to speak to anyone,” Rowan says. 

She scoffs. “You had a lot to say when you tried to kill me. Told me I was destined to destroy the school, remember? Where did you get that drawing?”

I look up in surprise and I see that Rowan too is surprised. 

“I just went into the woods to clear my head,” Rowan says, echoing the story that Wednesday told Weems. “Then you came after me.”

That’s when I realize what has happened here.

“Wednesday,” Thornhill says as she approaches. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Yeah, back off and leave me alone,” Rowan says as he gets into the car. 

I look at Wednesday and then back at the car as her sidekick clings to the bumper of Thornhill’s car. 

“Hey, Wednesday,” I call out to her and she turns to look at me. “Did you know that all of the year books are kept in the library. Section thirty-seven, if I’m not wrong.” I stand up to head back inside. “Just in case you want to look at your parent’s yearbooks.”

I head back inside and think about the yearbooks that sit safely in section two of the library and about page thirty-seven that holds the talent show pictures. 

Chapter Text

The school days at Jericho Public High School felt like forever. The Vermont legal amount of days was a hundred and seventy-five and the Jericho district chose to do classes from eight to three except on Fridays when they let out at one for teacher professional development. This meant that most days Lucas and I were trapped in a building with people who hated us for eight hours a day, six on Fridays. 

Because of the way I had chosen my classes in the first two years of high school, along with the fact that I had arranged with “my father’s permission” to take classes during the summer, I was left with only art classes this year and next year I could do independent study in art. 

Lucas was not as lucky. He had taken the typical freshman and sophomore classes and so, with my assistance in building his schedule, he would be able to finish all of the credits in time to be done with high school in the winter. As long as he passed all of his classes. 

Today was a Tuesday, but with the very nice parent portal that my dad had me set up, I was able to get myself signed out of school and I helped Lucas fake sickness and get sent home. 

We did not go to either of our homes though. We went to the train station in Burlington. Lucas followed “Rowan” as I sat in the car watching the train station entrance. 

Lucas had heard about Rowan showing up alive and he had asked me if I could drive him up to Burlington to figure out what was going on since his mom tracked his car after the Incident. 

“I was right,” Lucas says once he gets into the car. 

I immediately pull out of the spot and start heading back to Jericho, probably breaking a few speed laws. 

“What happened?” I ask him once we have gotten onto the road that will take us straight to Jericho. 

“The Principal of Nevermore,” he says. “She’s a shapeshifter?”

“Yeah,” I reply, Daisy and I had found out while we were looking through yearbooks to see if we could find someone who looked like her. 

“Then I think that “Rowan”,” he uses finger quotes with the name. “Is actually Weems in disguise because he went into a bathroom stall and left as a completely different person and then I saw Weems get into their botany teacher’s car.”

“A Nevermore cover up,” I mutter. “And if they are planning to cover this up then they want Wednesday to let it go.”

“Something tells me that she isn’t the letting it go type,” Lucas sighs. 

That is when Thing shows himself by falling into the car through the open sunroof. Lucas screams and I almost swerve off the road in surprise. 

I slam on the brakes sending Thing flying into the windshield and Lucas screams again. 

“What the hell, Thing!” I shout. 

“You know this thing!” Lucas’s voice comes out high pitched and panicked. 

“His name is Thing,” I calmly explain. “He is Wednesday’s partner in crime.” Then I turn to Thing. “What the hell are you doing dropping in like that?”

When I met Thing on because Wednesday was trying to contact me I swung at him with a bat. The two of us came to some kind of truce when he saw (how does a disembodied hand see?) my ring. 

The ring that had of course belonged to my mother and was her family ring, so that made a sort of sense. 

Thing was signing very quickly as I watch. Lucas looks between me and Thing extremely confused.  

“He says that Wednesday asked him to keep an eye on Rowan and see if he could figure out how Rowan came back,” I tell Lucas. “Apparently she doesn’t believe the cover up.” He signs again. “And he wants us to drop him off at Nevermore.”

I continue driving as Lucas still looks shocked. 

“Is he like... Wednesday’s pet?” Lucas asks. 

I don’t have to look over to know that Thing is flipping him off. 

“He’s sensitive,” I reply. 

When we got back to town I dropped Lucas off at his car at the school and went home to drop off my stuff before Lucas and I met up at the Weathervane. 

There I saw my dad putting Elvis into the back of his truck. Of course on his day off he would go looking for evidence in the woods. 

“Hey,” I walk up to the truck. “Where you going with Elvis?”

I lean against the truck and Elvis walks over expecting pets. I oblige and start scratching behind his ear. 

“Just, uh... following a lead on a case,” Dad replies, shutting the tailgate. 

“You still believe there's a creature out there, don't you?” I ask him. “I heard you and Santiago talking. You think it's a Nevermore kid?”

There is a moment of silence as my dad thinks of what to say. 

“Ran into your shrink,” he changes the subject, or course he does. “She was kind of tight-lipped about your progress.” 

“It's called doctor-patient confidentiality,” I comment moving away from Elvis. “It’s illegal to talk about my sessions unless I have given permission. Wouldn’t want to break the law with the Sheriff there.”

“How about father-son confidentiality?” he asks, ticked off. “What are you two yakking about?”

“Video games, cancel culture, oat  milk versus soy, it's a wild time,” I tell him sarcastically. 

“I pay the bills, I got a right to ask,” he shoves past me to get to the door.

“We talk about Mom,” I say and he stops. “Remember her?”

He turns halfway. Elvis whimpers, sensing the tension. 

“Better not be talking crap about your old man,” he says as he turns back to the front, hopping into the truck. “I'll be home late. You're on your own for dinner.”

“Oh, damn,” I say as he starts the truck. “I... I was hoping we could make steak and watch some old fashioned horror movies.” He pulls out of the driveway. “Love these warm, fuzzy memories we're making, Dad.”

I watch as he speeds away before I head towards the house. I open the door and toss my bag onto the chair. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Lucas. 

“Hey, I might be a bit late,” I tell him. 

“Any reason why?” he asks. 

“My dad is looking in the woods,” I reply before hanging up. 

When I am in the woods, part of me is always aware of how far from the cave I am (about three miles), how far from Skull Tree I am (about five miles), and how close the clearest clothes pack is (about two hundred feet). 

Part of my brain just comes alive in the woods, it always has. Even before Laurel Gates triggered the Hyde in me. The woods have always been my safe space and it was where I met Xavier years ago. 

We had first met at Skull Tree. Xavier and Ajax had snuck out to hear the ticking of the clockwork heart and I had been there because Skull Tree was where I came to be alone. 

Skull Tree had been known for being haunted and so the Nevermore kids stayed away and it was close enough to Nevermore that the normies stayed away. 

Ajax had gone running when he saw me, but Xavier had frozen. A typical fight or flight response. 

Xavier and I had gotten to talking and we had become friends. The next time we met was at the Weathervane when we realized that we were both friends with Daisy and the trio had been formed. 

Things have changed so much since then. 

I hear a crunch of leaves and I turn to see Wednesday watching my father from another angle. I carefully walk to the tree Wednesday is behind and I grab her around her waist, pinning her hands down and covering her mouth with my other hand. 

I watch through the branches as Elvis sniffs the air and then barks. My dad and Elvis pass by. 

“Sorry,” I release Wednesday, whispering to her. “I didn't want Elvis to pick up on your scent.”

“Thanks,” she says. “How'd you throw them off?”

“Uh…” I chuckle before showing her my secret. “Coffee grounds? Deer-hunting hack. One of the perks of being a part-time barista.”

“I assume your father didn't bring the bloodhound to play fetch,” she comments. 

“He doesn't tell me shit,” I reply. “Like earlier, he just lays into me about therapy. Tells me he’s paying for it, so he deserves to know what we talk about. And then when I tell him that I talk about mom, he just shuts down. Takes the dog, won’t tell me where he’s going. I’m on my own for dinner again, big surprise.”

Wednesday looks extremely uncomfortable with the topic and so I change it. 

“I’ve heard about what happened during the Harvest Festival,” I tell her. “What really happened?”

“I thought Rowan was in danger,” Wednesday replies, looking at me for a long moment. “Turns out I was wrong. Then he proceeded to use his telekinesis to try and choke me to death. That's when this monster came out of the shadows and gutted him.”

She continues walking looking for something. 

“And you have no idea where he got the page?” I ask her. 

She freezes and I realize my mistake. 

“You never mentioned the drawing,” I say. 

“No,” she agrees, turning to look at me. 

“Lucas saw it,” I tell her. “He saw the whole thing, even ran out to save you from Rowan, but then Rowan was killed.”

“And the monster didn’t kill him,” she comments before looking back at the ground. “These are Rowan's.” She picks up the glasses that have blood on them. “I knew it was a cover-up.”

Wednesday stiffens as soon as she touches the glasses and then she falls back. I catch her and she just lays there stiff as a board. 

“You okay?” I ask her as she gasps awake.

Chapter Text

Years ago, I took up running. The first few weeks were difficult, but eventually it got easier. Especially when I adjusted my run to include the Weathervane. I used to arrive there at the same time the Jericho High School was getting out and there was Calypso Galpin sitting in the back corner booth doing some kind of homework every time. 

I would buy myself a coffee and her a latte with oat milk and join her. We would talk and she would tell me about her day. Sometimes we would just sit there and she would work on her assignments with this focused face and I would sketch her. 

Then the Incident occurred and I stopped going to the Weathervane and ended up finding an old shed in the woods. It became my spot where I could do art and no one could bother me. 

Unfortunately it also became where I painted, sketched and drew Calypso hundreds of times. And then recently it became where the pictures of the monster were kept. 

The monster that was plaguing my dreams and would not leave me alone. 

Just like Calypso. 

It was like the two of them had tag teamed it. If I wasn’t dreaming about the monster attacking people, then it was Calypso. 

In my opinion the Calypso dreams were much worse. 

If there was one thing that I wanted gone from my head it would be her. 

When I got back to my room from one of the runs, I grabbed the towel off of my bed and went to the shower to try to cleanse my mind of the girl who had ruined my life. 

It, of course, doesn’t work. 

I get dressed in the bathroom out of habit and it is just in time because there is a knocking on my door. 

I open it and see that it is Bianca Barclay and Daisy Kinbott. Two people that I really didn’t want to see right now. 

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” but I pull the two of them into my room anyway. “How’d you get past the housemaster? Use your siren powers?” 

I think about the time that Bianca had asked me out. We had been friends before and maybe I would have said yes to her, but she had used her siren abilities on me to ask me out. I was going to have no choice but to say yes, but Daisy had recognized the dazed look in my eyes and she had dragged me away. Later Bianca and I had a huge fight in the Quad and the whole school found out that I had rejected Bianca Barclay. 

“Not while wearing this,” Bianca replies, touching her pendant. “Would it kill you not to think the worst of me for once?”

I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge of the bedframe. 

“What do you want, Bianca?” 

My tone is cold as I ask which is exactly what Bianca deserves. She looks surprised. 

“To see how you’re doing,” she replies, moving to stand in front of me. “I’m sorry about Rowan. I know you guys used to be close.”

“Since when do you give a damn about Rowan?” I ask her.

I glance over at Daisy and she just gives me the good old ‘we need to talk’ look. 

“Hey, you were the one who turned on him, remember? You said you were afraid he’d do something to Wednesday. Isn’t that why Daisy has been following her around?”

I glare at Bianca and Daisy stands up straight, walking over to stand beside me. 

“Leave me out of this, Bianca,” Daisy says. “You’re lucky that I didn’t report you to Weems for what happened.”

I walk away from Bianca and Daisy, heading for my desk. I notice immediately that my sketchbook is open to a graphite drawing of Calypso. I slam it closed trying to look casual. 

“Seriously,” Bianca presses. “What is it about her? I mean you have always liked girls with a darker aesthetic for friends, but Wednesday is way darker than–”

“Shut up,” Daisy and I say in unison. 

“What’s your obsession with Wednesday anyways?” I ask her. “You seem to hate her guts for no reason.”

“Because she thinks she’s better than everyone else,” Bianca replies, heated. “I can’t wait to crush stupid Ophelia Hall tomorrow and watch her werewolf roommate crumble. It’s going to be a Poe Cup to remember.”

“I hate to think what you’ve got planned,” I shake my head. 

“Oh, my game has already started,” Bianca boasts. “I like to win. Is that so wrong?”

She walks out of the room and leaves the door open. Daisy walks to the door, glances out and then shuts it. 

When she turns around she is holding the yearbook in her hands, but not the one from this year. The one from 1991. 

She hands it to me already open to a page and I immediately see Morticia Addams’s face staring back at me. 

“This is Wednesday’s mom, what about her?” I ask. 

“The person beside her,” Daisy says. 

“Judy Garland,” then I realize the name at the bottom is our principals. “You don’t think–”

“I think if someone wanted to cover up a murder then they would want to have an entire school see the victim leave after the murder occurred," Daisy says. “Would you really put it past her?” 

“No,” I sigh. “That means that there have been four deaths in the last few months.”

“They’re picking up speed,” Daisy agrees. 

I turn around and touch my sketchbook. 

“Have you drawn any more?” Daisy asks. 

“No,” I lie to her. “Just the same old drawings.”

“Just Calypso,” Daisy assumes. 

I toss the sketchbook on my bed and head to the door. “I’m going to the library. Do me a favor and don’t get caught.”

I know what I’ll find in the Nightshade library, but I want to look again. Every time I have drawn the monster, it has been a bad experience, but I can’t get it out of my head that maybe the monster isn’t a monster.

But I can’t find anything to prove that it even exists...

I enter the library and it is almost like I can feel eyes on me. I look towards the feeling and see the portrait of Ignatius Itt. Walking over to it, I almost feel like I know this portrait. 

Something in me takes over and I raise my hand to the portrait.

Somewhere under all the hair a hand appears and a paper with three numbers is shown. The portrait opens and I see a safe that I haven’t seen before. Quickly I try the code in the safe and it clicks open. Inside is a book.

Inside the front cover of the book is a letter. 

To Xavier Thorpe,

I left this letter and painting with the Faulkner family with instructions for this book and this safe. I made sure that they would honor my wishes and ensure that the diary would not be found by those who would do us wrong.  

My close friend informed me that this safe would be found over the years, but the book would remain safe for you to find. She was the infamous Joan Addams. She was a powerful seer and told me that you would need the information inside of this book. 

Do not let this book leave the Nightshade library. It must not be removed until the descendant of my dear Joan finds it. 

Take this letter and when the time comes you must tell Wednesday that she does not need to take the solitary path of the Raven. She can have her people beside her and that is the only way she will be able to defeat the evil that my dear Joan allowed to fester. 

Joan made many mistakes throughout her life, though her biggest one was thinking she had to do things alone. She created the Nightshades to help her, but she did not let them when she needed them the most. 

Don’t let the descendants of Crackstone destroy what Joan and I tried to build and what Faulkner completed. 

Your Long Deceased Ancestor,
Xaverius Thorpe

PS When the time comes and you are about to lose your world, bring this letter to Eudora Addams and she will know what to do. 

Chapter Text

To give some explanation as to how Wednesday got out to the forest without drawing any attention to herself, I got stuck outside with Eugene Ottinger while the others got dinner. 

This meant that I wasn’t there to smell the garlic on Yoko’s breadsticks and now I was down one member of the Ophelia Hall team. 

And everyone else had already called “not it” on participating. 

Wednesday was quite literally my only option at this point. 

And when I got to our room she and Thing were nowhere to be found which led to my minor freak out. Which is where Wednesday found me when she got back ten minutes later. 

“Are you hurt?” she asks as she sees me. 

If I didn’t know any better then I would think she was concerned about me. 

“Where have you been?” I cry out. “I'm literally having a heart attack right now. Yoko's in the infirmary!”

“What happened?” she asks as I start to pace before her. 

“Garlic bread incident at dinner,” I exclaim. “She had a major allergic reaction. She's out of the Poe Cup. I don't have a co-pilot.”

“It wasn't an accident,” Wednesday says, matter of factly. “Bianca's behind it.”

Of course I knew that one of the competitors was behind it, but for sure Bianca? “How do you know?”

“Doesn't matter,” she replies. “You and I are going to take her down tomorrow.”

“Wait,” I stop pacing and turn to face her. “You're joining the Black Cats? You're willing to do that? For me?”

I step towards her and she steps back.  

“I want to humiliate Bianca so badly that the bitter taste of defeat burns in her throat,” her eyes flash darkly as she says this. 

“Yeah, but mostly you're doing it because we're friends, right?” I say seriously. 

She turns around, clearly thinking about something. Her thinking face is very similar to Daisy’s. 

“Tell me how she keeps winning,” Wednesday orders. 

“It's a real brain cramp,” I tell her. “The past two years, no other boat has made it across and back without sinking.”

“Sounds like sabotage,” Wednesday concludes. 

“There are no rules in the Poe Cup, and she is a siren, which makes her master of the water,” I remind her. 

“Then we just need to beat her at her own game,” Wednesday turns back to me, meeting my gaze. 

“We're all set,” I tell Wednesday as Daisy and I join her. 

“Good,” Wednesday replies. “Thing's in position.”

“Wanna tell me what you two were up to?” I ask, curiously. 

“And spoil the surprise?” Wednesday sounds offended. 

“Speaking of surprises, your costume's in the tent,” Daisy says. “I just finished alterations.”

“Costume?” Wednesday looks from Daisy to me. 

Wednesday goes into the tent and when she comes out she is wearing the came black cat suit that Daisy and I are wearing. 

“OMG, you look purr-fect!” I smile at her. “Only thing, where are your whiskers?”

“Ask again, and you'll be down to eight lives,” Wednesday says. “Focus.”

The three of us get into the boat which sits between Puck Hall and Caliban Hall. 

“What do we have here?” Bianca asks. “The runt of the litter.”

Wednesday stares her down. “For the record, I don't believe I'm better than everyone else. Just that I'm better than you.”

Looking at Bianca’s face I know that means something and when I look at Xavier and Daisy I see that they are similarly affected. 

Across the field Weems takes the microphone. “I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions, dating back 125 years. Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk. First team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges. Let the Poe Cup begin!”

The gun fires and we’re off. 

The three of us work in unison and I watch as many boats are taken out before they even get to the island. 

“Thing,” Wednesday says. 

I see the glint of something flying through the water, but I ignore it. We got to the island unscathed. 

“It's over here,” Xavier shouts as he and another joker run towards Crackstone’s crypt. 

“Stay here and make sure Bianca can't sabotage our boat,” Wednesday orders. 

Wednesday runs off and Daisy is in the boat ready to keep going. 

“Thing, I need you to distract a couple of jokers,” I tell him. 

“What?” the first joker asks. 

“Come on,” the second one says. “Go. Let's get it.”

They take off after Thing and I bring out my claws. 

Wednesday still isn’t back when the jesters leave or when Bianca gets back to her boat, but she finally appears running through the woods. 

“Hurry up, we have to go!” I shout to her. 

She is barely in the boat before we take off. We are paddling as fast as we can when we see the jesters sinking. 

“What's going on?” Xavier asks. 

“See ya, jokers!” I shout back.

“Cheaters!” Xavier calls after us. 

“I just asked myself, ‘WWWD’?” I smile at Wednesday. “What Would Wednesday Do?”

We get to the final stretch and it is just us and Bianca’s team. 

“Come on,” I shout. 

We start floating closer to the buoy and then I see Thing jump off the side and the pushing stops. 

We scrape along the side of the Gold Bug and then their boat is taking on water. 

We get out of the boat and Wednesday and I are holding the flag together as we run across the finish line. 

I am smiling so wide that I feel like I could split open. 

“Yeah, we did it!” I exclaim. “OMG, Wednesday, we did it!” Part of me wants to hug her, but I stay back since she doesn’t like contact. “This is the greatest moment of my entire life. Admit it, you kinda got into the whole school spirit thing.”

“You didn't tell me it was a dark, vengeful spirit,” she smirks. 

For the first time I almost feel like I understand why Xavier cared so much about Calypso. 

“The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to not only honor Nevermore's most famous alumni, but to celebrate those values that all outcasts share,” Weems announces. “Community, perseverance, and determination. And we certainly saw those values on display today.”

Weems hands me the trophy. 

“Congratulations to Ophelia Hall!” she says. “As a former resident, I will be happy to see the cup back on the mantle after all these years.”

I notice Wednesday slipping away and I slip after her. 

Chapter Text

After my unsuccessful investigation to find the book that Rowan had gotten the picture from I had given up on the library. It was very clear that my fellow students cared more about physical pleasure than reading or research. 

Since the Poe Cup I haven’t had a moment of time to consider the vision I had had while in the crypt. 

A woman with blonde braids had stood before me and told me that I was the key. 

I sit before the statue of Edgar Allen Poe, considering the fact that I feel like a wrung out old sponge. I tip my head back to see if old Poe has any advice on how to deal with people suddenly being aware of your existence when you prefer the shadows. He doesn’t, but what he does have is much more interesting. 

I’ve walked past this statue daily since I started here — seen photos of it at home since I was old enough to scowl. How did I never notice the book? And more importantly, what’s on the cover. The symbol that matched the book cover that I had seen in my visions. 

The symbol of the Nightshade society. 

Thornhill had mentioned that they were an old student society that had been disbanded, but she didn’t know why. 

Suddenly I am energized again. Just in time for Enid to come rushing into my sanctuary. 

“What are you doing down here?” she asks. 

I turn away from the statue abruptly. “Hiding,” I confess. “People keep randomly smiling at me, it's unsettling.”

“It's called having your moment,” Enid says, bumping her shoulder with mine that’s both unexpected and not entirely unpleasant. “You took down Bianca Barclay. Try to enjoy it.”

We head back down to the quad. Some of the hubbub had died down, thankfully. People are sorted into their usual social groups at the long table instead of milling. 

“The girls wanna know if you wanna hang out later,” Enid says, hopefully. 

I let my expression answer for me. 

“Oh, come on, it won't kill you.”

I’m about to retort that it very well might and that death might be preferable. But then I remember Enid calling me her friend. What Would Wednesday Do? There’s little chance that I’ll ever become the type of person Enid looks for in a friend, but if she’s willing to accept me for who I truly am, perhaps I can meet her partway. 

“I'll think about it,” I say. She doesn’t push, nor does she try to hug me, much to my surprise. It’s a good sign. 

When she bounces off to rejoin the team – and the giant trophy – Weems approaches me on the sidelines. “It's good to see you fitting in,” she says. “Just like your mother.”

“My mother and I are two different people - slash - species - slash - everything,” I say, quickly and forcefully. 

“Hmm,” Weems begins. “The last time Ophelia Hall won the Poe Cup, your mother captained the team. I was her co-pilot. Maybe you two are more alike than you think.”

She’s gone before I can tell her that’s impossible. That while my mother and I may physically resemble one another, any similarities end there. 

As I peer over at Bianca’s table, see the siren (back on two legs now) with a black eye courtesy of Thing, I know I’ll never be like her. Never. 

The moment Enid is asleep, her arms around the Poe Cup as if it’s a teddy bear, I make my way back to the entrance hall. The statue. 

Edgar Allen Poe’s riddles were legendary, and when I step up onto the platform to view the pages of the book he holds, I’m forced to concede this might be his cleverest yet. 

It’s not one riddle, but a series of them. I pull out my notebook and begin to answer them one by one. Looking for a pattern. Something to convince me this isn’t all a coincidence. 

The opposite of moon. Sun. 

A world between ours. Nether. 

Two months before June. April. 

A self-seeding flower. Pansy. 

One more than one. Two. 

Its leaves weep to the ground. Willow. 

It melts in the sun. Ice. 

Its beginning and end never found. Circle. 

Every rule has one. Exception. 

When every riddle is answered, I look down at my list. It’s not a code, I don’t think. And the words spelled backward reveal nothing, But the first letter of every word... that might be something. I circle them all, one by one, and when I have my answer, I can hardly believe it. 

The answer will make a sharp cracking sound. 

I snap twice. 

Before me, Edgar’s statue becomes suddenly mobile. He slides out of the way, revealing a secret passage at his feet. An entrance to the place where Rowan found the book with his mother’s drawing in it. The one where I stand before the flames, destroying Nevermore and everyone here. 

This is my chance to change the future she saw. 

I descend the staircase. Paintings line the wall on the way down, Shadowy faces. Smirks. Hooded eyes. No one I recognize. 

At the bottom, the floor is a custom job. A flower with a skull. The symbol of the Nightshade Society. There are cobwebs everywhere. My flashlight falls on a portrait of my parents, and I’ll deny it to the grave, but it makes me feel a little less alone down here. 

In a recessed shelf in the wall are a hundred purple volumes like the one my vision showed. I step forward to remove the one with the least dust in the front of it. There, at the center. A torn page. The other half of Rowan’s mother’s drawing.

There’s a tingling in the air. An anticipation. After days of hoping, have I finally found the answer? I put the book in my bag and turn to mount the stairs again. 

That’s when the sack descends over my head, and my ill timed abduction begins. 

Once I’m wrestled into a chair at what feels like the center of the room, I assess the situation as I always imagined I would when I was eventually kidnapped. 

Bag over my head for optimal disorientation? Check. Wrists tied tight enough to cut off circulation? Check. I have no idea if I'm going to live or die, which feels thrilling after a day of high school drama. 

In short, just the way I like to celebrate a victory. 

My mind is whirring with possibilities. Is this someone connected to the monster that killed Rowan? Someone connected to Rowan himself? His psychic mother? Or is the sheriff worried about my insistence that Rowan was murdered – he was in the woods alone that day I found Rowan’s glasses. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t leave Weems off the list. She appears benevolent, but I never trust people who dress that well. 

The bag is ripped off my head. Bright lights shine from every direction, causing me to squint, unable to see who’s behind them. Hooded figures, I think. No idea how many. If I’m lucky, maybe twenty. I won’t break the silence first. 

After a long moment, however, one of my assailants speaks, and my hopes of high intrigue and a narrow escape are dashed against the rocks of bitter disappointment. 

“Who dares breach our inner sanctum?” The voice is unmistakable. Our resident queen bee, muffled by some kind of face covering.

“You can take the mask off, Bianca,” I say, not bothering to hide my regret. 

The lights die out. Bianca, in a purple robe, removes the mask identical to the one I found under Rowan’s floorboards when I had been investigating his room the day prior. Everyone else removes theirs too. It’s just the in-crowd of Nevermore. Yoko, Xavier, Ajax. A bunch of other kids whose names I’ll never bother to learn. Surprisingly Daisy is not among them. 

My foe is no psychotic killer intent on psychological torture before the inevitable end. Just a bunch of high school bullies playing dress up. 

“How did you get down here?” Xavier asks. 

“Rowan showed me,” I say, nodding to my skirt. “Left pocket.”

He steps forward to Bianca’s obvious and intense displeasure and removes the drawing. Me and the flames. 

“I tracked the watermark to the Poe statue,” I say. “Then I solved the riddle.”

“Wait, there's a riddle?” one of the boys says, looking at Bianca. It’s the siren from the Poe Cup this afternoon, still sporting the black eye that Thing gave him. I think his name is Kent. “I thought we just snapped twice.”

“Well, aren't you the brightest in the bunch.” I was supposed to be facing off against a famous serial killer dressed like a clown or something by now. This is a poor substitute. 

“The Nightshades are an elite social club,” Bianca continues. “Emphasis on elite.”

I can practically feel her sizing up my outfit. As if we don’t all wear a Nevermore uniform. 

“We have roof parties, campouts, the occasional midnight skinny-dip.”

This girl I recognize as Yoko, the one Bianca put in the infirmary last night with the garlic bread incident. 

So much for the enduring bonds of fellowship, I think. 

“And Yoko's an amateur mixologist,” says another girl in the group, one with a slicked back brown bob. I later learn her name is Divina. 

“She makes a killer virgin mojito. It can get pretty wild,” Ajax added. 

If anything this makes me hate the social upper crust of this school even more than I did before. Centuries of history, secret society gravitas, a hideout behind a statue of Edgar Allen Poe and all they can do is throw virgin cocktail parties? It’s pathetic. 

“Wow,” I deadpan. “Do you guys even have a bedtime?”

Bianca sneers at me, but I don’t wait for whatever unimaginative retort she’s planning. “Last I heard, the Nightshades had been disbanded.”

Xavier speaks up this time. “Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter thirty years ago after some kid disappeared. But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves.”

“Someone like Rowan?” I ask sharply. I know he was once a member – I saw his mask. Does that mean the people here know about his mother? Her vision? It came out of one of these books, after all... 

“We booted that loser last semester,” Bianca says dismissively. I remember her feigned concern in Xavier’s room yesterday. “Question is, what are we gonna do with her?” She poses the question to the other Nightshades as if she’d ever consider and opinion besides her own. “Only members are allowed in this library.”

“I say we invite her to pledge,” Xavier says, still standing next to me. “She is a legacy.” He shines his flashlight on the portrait of my parents in their youth. My mother is in a large circular armchair. My father standing next to her, dotingly holding her hand. 

I’m about to say they’d be disappointed at the diluted sham this organization has become, but Bianca is already objecting. 

“After the crap she pulled in the Poe Cup, there's no way in hell. We talk about not making waves? She's a tsunami.”

Several students nod in agreement. Xavier is clearly about to speak up in my defense, despite my clear instructions not to attempt to rescue me again. 

“Just because I beat you at your own game?” I say before anyone else can speak. “Let me save you the trouble. I'm not interested in joining.”

Yoko scoffs. “You're seriously turning us down?”

“Can you believe it?” I intone, borrowing her insipid Valley girl patois, though I know my sarcasm is lost on her. 

Bianca alone seems satisfied. “Untie her,” she says, snapping at her siren lackey. 

I get to my feet, holding the rope out to him when he approaches. “I freed myself five minutes ago.” 

Everyone watches in disbelief as I snatch Rowan’s drawing back from Xavier and make for the stairs. I intend to leave them with no further comment, but halfway up the stairs the disappointment and rage are too much to contain.

“It's amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad name,” I say to the crowd below me. 

“You realize she’s taking that book with her,” Divina says. 

“Leave it,” Xavier replies. “She’s not the only non-Nightshade to know about this place.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bianca asks. 

“Daisy followed you down here,” he retorts. 

Chapter Text

Wednesday is sitting alone at a table when I join her. There is a book in front of her that looks like the Nightshade journals. 

I sit down and she shuts the journal, but now before I can see the image sketched on the pages. It’s obviously the Quad (Pentagon), but it is on fire and in the middle is clearly Wednesday and someone else that I don’t quite get to see before she shut it. 

“Doing some light reading before the Nightshades try to recruit you?” I ask her. “Don’t worry, they only bugged me for three months when I found out.”

“You know about the Nightshades?” Wednesday asks. 

“Yeah,” I reply. “Xavier was sneaking off and I thought he was cheating on Caly. I found the clues and made it seem like I had followed Bianca into their ‘inner sanctum’.” I laugh lightly at the words Bianca had used. “I rejected them and I just borrow a book from there every now and then.”

She looks at me as though she is seeing me with new eyes. 

I guess she didn’t think I would be one to shove it in their faces that I rejected them and they couldn’t do anything about it. 

Wednesday looks like she is about to say something when Weems steps up to address the students that have been packed into the Quad like sardines. 

“All students will report to their jobs at ten o’clock sharp followed by a community lunch at one.”

Wednesday puts the book into her bag and we both stand up, joining the line to the buses for Outreach Day. 

In my opinion Outreach Day is the worst idea that Nevermore has ever had. Trying to force the people of Jericho to accept Nevermore doesn’t work and every year something happens. 

Last year was the Incident. 

Where everything with Calypso Galpin fell apart. 

I suppose someone should say what the Incident was. 

Last year Xavier had this beautiful mural that he designed. It got approved by Weems and the Mayor and it was supposed to be revealed during the ceremony. Then Xavier got attacked by Lucas Walker and when I came to find him because he was late to lunch I found Calypso throwing paint at the mural, ruining all of Xavier’s work. 

Lucas and Calypso both ended up getting arrested for assault, but they kept insisting that it wasn’t them who did it. 

A week later while I was dress shopping we saw Calypso for the first time since that day. She admitted that she and Lucas did it together and that she hated us for being Outcasts. 

After that Xavier broke up with her officially and I made sure Enid didn’t go near her. 

She didn’t deserve to have her heart broken the way we did. 

That was the last time we heard from her until the Harvest Festival. 

“As you know, this year Outreach Day culminates in a very special event,” Weems continues, sounding as through she actually believes it. “The dedication of a new memorial statue in the town square, which will also include performances by Nevermore students.”

I am standing near Wednesday during the announcement and Enid bounces over. 

“As representatives of our school,” Weems cautions as teachers begin handing out envelopes in the crowd, “I trust you will all put your best face forward.”

Thornhill reaches us just as the speech ends. The three of us get our assignments. Enid squeals as she opens hers, Wednesday looks indifferent and I know there is a scowl gracing my face. 

“Yes!” Enid exclaims. “I got Pilgrim World. I have natural people skills and a love of performing, so it's kind of the obvi choice. What'd you two get?”

“Uriah's Heap, whatever that is,” Wednesday reads. 

“Ew,” Enid’s look of distaste makes me smile, Uriah’s Heap isn’t actually that bad. “It's this weird, creepy antique store. You'll love it though.”

“I got Pilgrim World,” I say, looking over at Lucas Walker who is already in a Pilgrim outfit. 

I look over Xavier’s shoulder at his assignment and cringe. 

“Oh my God, I got the Weathervane,” he bumps Ajax’s shoulder. “Dude, trade with me. Come on, trade with me!” 

“Wednesday, don't worry about your cello,” Weems approaches with a smile that makes me scared for what she is going to say. “I'll have it brought to the town square this afternoon.”

“My cello?” Wednesday asks, confused.

“I caught your rooftop serenade the other night,” Weems replies. “Impressive.” Everyone had heard Wednesday playing her cello. Stacey had even gotten out the werewolf headphones to block it out. “I volunteered you to accompany the Jericho High School marching band at the ceremony. I'm sure it won't be too challenging to play an uplifting Fleetwood Mac melody.”

It takes effort not to let my surprise slip onto my face as I share a look with Enid. It is a very real possibility that if Wednesday is forced to play something upbeat that she will break out in hives. 

“As long as you promise to hang me as a witch afterwards,” she mutters. 

When I catch up with Xavier later he is staring at the wall where everything fell apart. I rest my head on his arm as I move to stand beside him. He glances at me and then back at the wall. 

I know he is thinking about Calypso. 

I feel kind of bad for him, being stuck in the Weathervane with her after a year of the two of them ignoring each other. 

It sounds like hell. 

“Why are you two staring at a blank wall?” 

I turn and Wednesday is standing behind us with Enid beside her. 

“It wasn't blank last Outreach Day,” Xavier says, turning to head into the crowd. 

“Are you still stewing because I rejected your invitation?” Wednesday asks. 

“I couldn’t care less,” Xavier says. “You’re a legacy so you should at least have the chance to join.”

“Well I have more pressing issues to deal with,” Wednesday replies. “Like tracking down the monster that killed your former roommate.”

“Wednesday,” Enid says. “Rowan was expelled. We all saw him leave.”

“Actually we didn’t,” I tell her.

“What?” Enid asks.

“I don't know why you care,” Xavier says to Wednesday. “It's not like you knew the guy.”

“I'm not sure why you care so little,” Wednesday replies. “People can dismiss me and make a million other excuses, but I'm not gonna stop.”

Wednesday pulls out the book from her bag and shows it to Xavier and I. 

“Can someone explain this whole conversation?” Enid questions. 

“Wednesday saw Rowan get killed by some kind of monster during the Harvest Festival,” I reply. “Then Weems decided to cover it up by having a fake Rowan leave the school. I’m assuming Rowan tried to kill Wednesday and showed her this picture prompting her to break into the Nightshade Library. The Nightshades being a secret society. Now Xavier is looking at me like I just spoiled everyone’s fun by catching you up and Wednesday wants to know how I knew all of that and I know all of that because I have been piecing things together in my head for a while.”

I look between Wednesday, Enid and Xavier. 

“There’s a secret society at Nevermore?” 

“Yes,” Xavier says. “But it is supposed to be secret.”

“You didn't seem surprised when I showed you this last night,” Wednesday points to the picture. “You've seen it before, haven't you?”

“Yeah,” Xavier admits. “A couple days before the Harvest Festival. It was open on Rowan's desk. I assumed he stole it after we kicked him out of the Nightshades. Then I confronted him about it, and he kind of went ballistic on me.”

“He threw you against the wall with his telekinesis,” Wednesday says. 

“He did what?” Enid and I ask in unison.

“Yeah,” Xavier confirms. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” Wednesday replies and I want to bash my head into the brick wall. 

“It's weird that you're in this,” Xavier says. “This journal is like, what, 30 years old? What's Crackstone doing in the picture with you?”

“You know who that is?” Wednesday asks. 

“You don’t?” Enid asks. 

“It's Joseph Crackstone,” I tell her. “He's Jericho's founding father. He's a big deal around here.” We round the corner and I gesture to the banner above the streets. “Yeah, look. That's him.”

We all enter the main area where there are chairs set up. Weems and Mayor Walker make a quick announcement and then they send us to do the assignments. 

“Enid,” Wednesday says. “Switch volunteer assignments.”

“What?” Enid asks. “No. Uriah's Heap is definitely not my bag.”

“It's an emergency,” Wednesday replies. “I need to check out Pilgrim World.”

“Here,” I tell her. “Give me Uriah’s Heap.”

She hands me her assignment and I hand over mine. 

Best of luck with Mistress Arlene, Wednesday. 

I turn towards the entrance to Uriah’s Heap and see Ajax standing in front of the door. 

Oh, my heart skips a beat. This could be interesting. 

Chapter Text

In my opinion Outreach Day is the worst idea that the town of Jericho has ever had. 

Followed closely by Pilgrim World. 

I can see Lucas from across the square. He clearly was not as successful as I was in getting out of the volunteer work. 

He is dressed in a pilgrim outfit and he is scowling at me from across the way. 

“You aren’t dressed up?” he asks. 

“Nope,” I reply. “Sabrina called out of work and the manager asked me to cover her shift.”

“Lucky bitch,” he mutters. 

“You could always call Anwar and ask if you can pick up a shift,” I offer. 

“I already tried,” he says. “Instructions from my dad.”

Lucas and I walk over to where his dad and mine are talking. 

“You remember my son, Lucas?” the mayor says. 

I roll my eyes as my dad nods. Of course he remembers Lucas, the two of us got arrested together last Outreach Day.

“I sure do,” my dad replies.  

“I’d better get to my assignment.” Lucas scowls. 

“Hey, no trouble today,” Lucas’s dad warns him. 

Lucas nods and walks away. 

“That goes for you two,” my dad adds. 

“Didn’t do anything last year,” I tell him as I turn away. 

“Calypso,” he grabs my arm. “I mean it.”

“So do I,” I tug my arm out of his grasp just as the Nevermore students enter the square. 

I walk away from them and head for the back entrance to the Weathervane. In the back room I grab the apron and tie it loosely in the back. I wash my hands and despite my efforts I remember last year. 

Xavier and I were good, Daisy and I were friends. I was assigned to work at Pilgrim world and it was horrible. Especially when I started to have a panic attack. Lucas ended up taking me into one of the closed sections and he helped me out. 

Then an hour later some of my dad’s officers came in and arrested us because we had "assaulted Xavier” and “destroyed his mural”. According to Daisy she had seen me destroying the mural and Xavier claimed that Lucas had attacked him. 

Lucas and I were kept on lockdown with his mom for the next few weeks and when I got my phone back from my dad I had gotten messages from Xavier and Daisy telling me that things were done and to stay away from them and their friends. 

Lucas and I kept arguing that we were innocent, but no one believed us. We got punished for it, it ended up on our permanent record and everyone stopped believing us. 

It also didn’t help that we became social pariahs among our peers. 

“You’re late,” Mariah says as I walk up front. 

“It’s nine-fifty-nine,” I look at her in surprise. 

“You’re supposed to be clocked in at fifty-five,” she says as she clocks out. 

The volunteer isn’t even here yet, it isn’t like it was some huge thing. We didn’t have to be clocked in until ten, the earliest we could clock in was fifty-five. 

I take a moment to appraise the situation that the counters were left in. It wasn’t unusual for the counters to get messy or sticky. I know for a fact that Mariah had no customers and wasn’t busy and yet the counter was covered in all of the syrups, there were coffee spills, drip was empty, and the dishes hadn’t been cleaned. 

Nothing had been cleaned, most likely since we opened at six. 

It was fine, I still had some time. The bell rings as the volunteer walks in. I barely glance up, but then my head snaps up and I look at Xavier Thorpe standing by the door looking at me in almost the same expression I am probably wearing. 

“You’re the volunteer,” I say. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. 

“You can just head to the back,” I tell him. “There’s aprons hanging up in the first room.”

He does so and I want to bang my head against the counter. As if this day couldn’t get worse. 

I start scrubbing down the counters and get them back to baseline. The drip gets started. The floors get lightly swept. I load the dishes onto a tray and carry them to the industrial dishwasher in the back and load up a tray before sending it through. 

“You got this done fast,” Xavier’s voice causes me to jump out of my skin and I look at him. 

“Sorry,” I say to him. “I’m not used to working with anyone.”

“It’s fine,” Xavier says. “So what do you want me to do today?”

“I am going to have you man the dishwasher and clean up the tables,” I tell him. “Because I don’t have the time nor the energy to show you how to make any of the coffees since you’re only working here for one day.”

“Got it,” Xavier says. 

We head up to the front and I show him the rags. 

“Blue is for the tables, black is for the booths, purple is for the counters back here,” I push the purple back so that the blue and black are closer to him. “Just clean the table, take the dishes back to the dishwasher, load the dishes, send them through and bring them back to the counter.”

“Simple enough,” Xavier comments. 

About thirty minutes later things seem to be smooth enough that Weems was sitting in a booth stirring her cup of chamomile tea with honey. She had her gaze fixed on Uriah’s Heap across the road. 

Laurel Gates was standing before the counter, holding a donut as she gave me a reminder of the toes that she needed. 

The bell rang and from the footsteps I could tell it was Mayor Walker coming in, but I didn’t look up from the double-cap, no foam, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla.

Laurel Gates was here and the one person who I knew could recognize her was standing in the doorway. 

“Principal Weems,” the mayor greets. 

“Well, it looks like another successful Outreach Day is upon us,” Weems chuckles. 

“And, uh... thank you for your generous donation to my re-election campaign,” Walker says. 

Of course, who doesn’t love a bit of corruption with their coffee. It wasn’t new to me that Nevermore was helping keep Walker in as the mayor, Lucas and I found out that bit last year. 

“Consider it a token of our ongoing cooperation,” Weems says, clicking her tongue. 

“Make sure I have them tonight,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t want to have to punish you, sweetheart.” I shudder lightly at the thought. It isn't necessary for her to hurt me, but she does it anyway, I think she just likes feeling more powerful. With those last words she heads over to Weems and Walker with a big smile on her face. 

“Apparently everyone is off to their assignments,” she reports. “And so far no incidents.”

“Mayor Walker, I'd like you to meet Marilyn Thornhill,” Weems introduces the Mayor to Laurel. “In the spirit of outreach, she's Nevermore's first normie teacher.” 

He laughs. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. Hey, have we, uh... Have we met before?”

For a moment I feel a glimmer of hope. Let the mayor realize the truth. Then it is crushed by Laurel Gates once again. 

“Not officially, but I see you here every morning,” she answers. “You're always tucked into that back booth when I come for my daily matcha latte.”

I don’t like the way she lies about everything. Anyone who lies often would know that the best way to lie is to keep it as close to the truth as possible. 

“I knew it!” the mayor chuckles. 

“Miss Thornhill, please keep me posted, especially about a certain pig-tailed upstart,” Weems requests. 

“Right,” Laurel nods. 

She gives the mayor another nod before leaving. I feel my muscles relax as she leaves and walks down the street. 

I head into the back to get a drink when I run into Xavier. Looking up at him just made me feel a little sick, I didn’t want to lie to him or any of them. 

I just didn’t have a choice. 

And even if I did, who would believe me? 

“Sorry,” I mutter, slipping around him and walking into the back room. 

Part of me thinks I can feel his eyes on me, but the more rational part tells me that he hates me and wouldn’t do that. 

Chapter Text

Pilgrim World is amazing. Wednesday looks at the different buildings as Mistress Arlene welcomes us. 

“Yonder, behold,” Mistress Arlene says. “The meeting house. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to Jericho's most beloved and pious founder, Joseph Crackstone.”

“I haveth a query,” Wednesday says, suddenly showing interest.

“Pray, be quick, child,” Mistress Arlene replies. 

“In the meeting house, which of Joseph Crackstone's artifacts are on display?” Wednesday asks. 

Mistress Arlene looks as though she were in physical pain as she responds. “It is truly a treasure trove, including original farm tools, tableware, even the Crackstone family chamber pot.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Wednesday replies. “I volunteer to work in there.”

I am about to volunteer to join her when Mistress Arlene smiles. 

“Pray, no,” Arlene seems happy to say no to Wednesday. “That exhibit is being renovated. Today, thou will all be working at the beating heart of Pilgrim World.”

She turns to gesture behind her to reveal the fudgery. 

“Ye olde fudgery!” Wednesday’s friend from the bee hives exclaims. 

I look over at Wednesday who looks extremely unhappy with this turn of events. 

Once we have been given our uniforms and instructions – samples lead to sales! The tourists are always right! Don’t forget to smile! – we’re sent out to pass out samples of fudge. 

Somehow I never expected anyone to be able to make the Pilgrim outfit work, but Wednesday makes it look good. On me however, the baggy dress just looks weird. 

And the fabric is making my skin itchy. 

I hold the tray of fudge out to some people and they take fudge before walking away. 

I look over at Wednesday and she is saying something in another language, possibly German, to a group of tourists. 

She holds out the tray and they back away from her, muttering. The people walk away and Wednesday sets down her tray and walks away. I set my tray down and follow her out. 

I get outside and immediately I see Wednesday’s friend covered in puke and Wednesday is beating up two boys, Carter and Jonah. 

I watch in awe as Wednesday traps one in the stocks and the other one runs off. 

I look at Wednesday’s friend who is covered in sick and at this point he looks ready to cry. I help him to his feet and suddenly Wednesday is at my side. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” Wednesday says. 

I realize what Wednesday snuck out to do once her friend (Eugene) is cleaned up and we stand before the Meeting House. 

“Give me your retainer,” Wednesday orders him.

“What? Why?” he asks. “Your teeth are really good. Not as straight or white as Enid's, but...”

I cringe lightly when he says that. 

“Hand it over!” Wednesday repeats. 

“What if Mistress Arlene catches us?” Eugene asks as he hands over his retainer.  

Wednesday grabs it and starts twisting it and then she shoves it into the lock.

“Hive code, deny everything,” Wednesday replies.

“That's not hive code!” Eugene exclaims. “What's the big deal anyway? The fudge is definitely the best thing about this place.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I scratch at my neck. 

“Stop talking,” Wednesday says. “Keep watch.”

Wednesday slips inside and Eugene smiles at me. 

“Keep watch,” I tell him. 

I follow Wednesday inside. I have never actually been to Pilgrim World before today, so when I saw the inside of the Meeting House, it was for the first time.

It’s a long and narrow room with dust everywhere. In display cases there are artifacts, most likely belonging to the Crackstone family. There are also old paintings on the walls. 

In the center of the room there is a wax figure of Crackstone and he is holding a gnarled oak staff. Wednesday looks at him. 

I see something ruffle her skirt and let out a squeak before I realize that it is Thing. Wednesday looks towards me. 

“What exactly are we looking for?” I ask her. 

“Anything that can help with figuring out that drawing,” Wednesday replies. 

“Cool,” I mutter as I start looking around. “Very specific.”

We don’t have to spend long looking before Wednesday finds something she was looking for. 

“This is the girl from my vision,” Wednesday says. “She's even holding the same book. That black one she had outside Crackstone's crypt.”

“Vision?” I ask. 

I look at the painting that she is pointing out and see a blonde version of Wednesday, and it isn’t a good look on her.

“This is the same book,” I point out. 

“Codex Umbrarum,” Wednesday says, reading the book cover. “That's Latin for ‘Book of Shadows’.” She picks the lock and grabs the book from inside the case. I look over her shoulder as she opens the book. “Great. It's a fake. I don't know who Etsy is, but I doubt she was an outcast settler.”

Just as I am about to explain that Etsy is an independent craft website Mistress Arlene bursts into the meeting house holding Eugene by the back of his collar like some kind of kitten. 

“Just what the fudge are you doing in here, missy?” she asks. 

“Mistress Arlene,” I say, itching my arms. 

“How now?” Wednesday greets. 

“How now, indeed,” Mistress Arlene snaps. “I proclaimed the meeting house is under repair. I know thoust heard me.”

“I told her the door was unlocked and you were dying to learn more about Crackstone,” Eugene explains. 

“Yes, and this display case was already open,” Wednesday adds.

“Well, you’re wasting your time,” Mistress Arlene says, dropping the pilgrim persona. “That book's a replica. The original was stolen last month during the two o'clock witch trial.”

“It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?”

“Hold thy tongue,” Mistress Arlene bites. “I'm reassigning you both. To fudge-churning duty.”

“The original meeting house, the one in that painting, where is it?” Wednesday asks.

“How the hell should I know?” Mistress Arlene asks. “I only moved here from Scottsdale in April.” She goes to grab my arm, but she jumps back. “What is happening to you?”

Wednesday looks at me and her eyes flash with a bit of concern. 

“She’s having an allergic reaction,” Wednesday says. 

I look down at my arms and they are covered in hives and scratch marks. 

“You take her back to your school,” Mistress Arlene orders. “Don’t let any of the guests see you.”

Wednesday leaves the building and I follow her.

“What are you allergic to?” she asks me once we’re far enough away. 

Chapter Text

Daisy Kinbott is standing next to me. 

Daisy mother-freaking Kinbott is standing next to me. 

The girl that I have been in love with since I was twelve years old. 

I must say that I was not super enthused when I got Uriah’s Heap for Outreach Day, but when Daisy Kinbott walked in, my day really looked up. 

Now as we look at the taxidermy road kill on the shelves, I could think of a few more romantic places.

“I'm pretty sure it's dead,” I tell her. “See the tire treads across its tail?”

“Local artist scooped that fella up right here on Route 22,” Mrs. Uriah says from behind us. 

The two of us spin and look at her. 

“Do people actually buy these?” Daisy asks her.  

“Can't keep them on the shelves,” Mrs. Uriah replies. “Got a whole section dedicated to these beauties. Squirrels, skunks, snakes, and my personal fave... family of ferrets at a clambake. Too cute.” She holds out two plastic combs. “You two want to make yourself useful? I reckon they could use a good brush with a Tangle Teezer. It freshens up the fur.”

“Maybe we can do that after, like, a...” Daisy trails off and she looks at me, her eyes are such a pretty green-brown. “An extended coffee break.” Her hand touches my shoulder as she steps back. “Right, Ajax?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “We'll hit the Weathervane. Want us to pick you up something?”

“No need to pay for that overpriced hipster swill,” Mrs. Uriah tells us. “I'm brewing chaga. It's my own blend.” She says to us. “Mushroom tea. I foraged the little buggers myself. Better get teasing. You're in for a treat.”

“Okay,” the two of us mutter. 

I take the blue comb and Daisy takes the pink one. 

I remember when Daisy had blonde hair as opposed to the brown that she has now. When she had her light blonde hair her skin looked brighter and the green in her eyes popped more, now that her hair is caramel brown, the brown in her eyes is more defined and she looks a bit more pale. 

This is more noticeable than normal when we are in Uriah’s Heap with the lighting and especially when she is cautiously approaching a man who looks like he is homeless. 

“Can I help you?” she asks and he goes running out of the door, she moves back over to me and picks up the pink brush again. “That gives me the heebie-jeebies.” 

I look at the stuffed squirrel and rat that stand together as a couple on their wedding day. 

“I don't know,” I say to her. “You think squirrels and rats could ever work out? I mean, they're two totally different species.”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies with a smile. “I mean, totally. Why not? They have more in common than you think. Most people are scared of them, so it would just be them against the world.”

I look over at her and I notice her pink lipstick. It looks good. The color suits her. “Wow. That was... deep.” She smiles wider and I know for a fact that I never want her to stop. “You know, by the way, I really liked how you were at the Poe Cup. It was pretty badass.”

“Thanks,” she says. “You're not mad you lost?”

“I was just doing a solid for Xavier,” I tell her. “I mean, he's my boy, but he's super competitive. Seems so laid-back. Bro's got a darker side most people don't see. I think it's because his dad is... well, you know, famous. All that pressure. 

“Yeah,” she says. “I know. Xavier’s my best friend.” She shrugs. “He’s been going through it this last year.”

“Because of Calypso,” I ask. 

“Because of Calypso,” she agrees. 

We stand there for a moment before she speaks again. 

“I think this is the longest conversation that we have had without Xavier,” she says. 

I barely touch my hat before speaking. “Gorgons are taught not to engage. You know, I don't want to accidentally stone someone.”

“I'm not afraid of being stoned by you,” Daisy says and I look at her surprised. “It's just temporary.”

“Really?” I ask. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “So, um, I was thinking of sneaking behind the greenhouse tonight. Supposed to be a blue moon.”

“Cool,” I tell her. “Hey, have fun.” Part of me hopes that she might be asking me out, but there is no way. She’s Daisy Kinbott. “You know that's where a lot of kids go to hook up, right? I mean, it could get awkward.”

She looks frustrated and honestly, it’s a very cute look on her. “Ajax! I just spent all morning flirting and hinting and trying to act cute while brushing some roadkill just so you would ask me on a date. I give up! Do you want to meet up with me behind the greenhouse and make out and maybe if that isn’t absolutely terrible we could be something more?”

“Oh!” I say as the realization hits. “Oh!” I look at her in surprise. Daisy Kinbott is asking me out. “Yes. Yes, I do.” 

I hope it comes out more calm than I think it did. She smiles wide and I want to freeze this moment in time because she looks beautiful. 

“Ajax, can you help me move the badger dentist to the front window?” Mrs. Uriah calls from the back. 

I don’t look away as I back towards Mrs. Uriah and the badger dentist until I trip over something and kit the ground with a thud. I hear Daisy gasp in surprise, but I am up in record time. 

“I’m okay,” I tell her. 

I am much more than okay. 

Daisy mother-freaking Kinbott just asked me out and I said yes!