Chapter Text
The final assembly of the school year began twelve minutes late.
Wednesday considered this appropriate.
Nevermore Academy had never displayed any particular respect for time, order or the structural integrity of its student population. Beginning an allegedly important assembly late was merely the institution maintaining its standards.
Beside her, Enid’s right knee bounced fast enough to destabilise the bench.
Wednesday placed two fingers against it.
The movement stopped instantly.
Enid looked down at Wednesday’s hand, then up at Wednesday.
Wednesday removed her fingers.
“Your incessant vibration was interfering with my ability to catalogue the available exits.”
“You already catalogued them when we walked in.”
“Circumstances change.”
“In the last four minutes?”
“Ajax could remove his beanie.”
Three rows behind them, Ajax clutched his hat protectively.
“I heard that.”
“You were intended to.”
Enid bit her lip, unsuccessfully attempting to conceal a smile.
Wednesday turned her attention back toward the stage.
They had been summoned to Ophelia Hall shortly after breakfast, along with every other third-year student. None of their teachers had been willing to explain why. The official notice had contained only the words MANDATORY END-OF-YEAR ASSEMBLY, printed in a shade of red intended to suggest importance but which Wednesday considered disappointingly arterial.
The rest of the students had filled the silence with speculation.
Kent believed the academy was announcing an international exchange programme.
Divina thought they were being given their fourth-year room assignments early.
Ajax had suggested a school trip.
Yoko had suggested a school execution.
Agnes had immediately volunteered to assist.
Rowan, seated at the end of their row with his arms folded, had spent the past ten minutes insisting that the sudden assembly was probably nothing significant, which meant he was more anxious than anyone else present.
Bianca sat directly in front of Wednesday, her posture elegant and apparently relaxed. Xavier occupied the seat beside her and had been sketching in the margin of his notebook since they arrived.
Wednesday could see enough of the page to recognise two figures.
One was small, black and rigid.
The other appeared to possess an unreasonable amount of hair.
Wednesday leaned forward.
“If that drawing develops the ability to move, I’ll break each of your fingers before it reaches the edge of the paper.”
Xavier covered the image with his hand.
“It’s not you.”
“The braids are distinctive.”
“It could be anyone with braids.”
Enid peered over Wednesday’s shoulder.
“Is that me?”
“No.”
“The sweater has the little rainbow clouds I wore yesterday.”
Xavier closed the notebook.
“It’s an observational study.”
Bianca glanced back at him.
“Of what?”
Xavier looked between Wednesday and Enid.
“Poor decision-making.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
Before she could request clarification, the doors at the side of the hall opened.
Conversation drained from the room.
Principal Evangeline Harrow entered with the calm, predatory stride of a woman who had spent her first six months at Nevermore establishing that she could not be intimidated, bribed, blackmailed or easily poisoned.
Wednesday had tested three of the four.
Harrow reached the lectern and placed a thick black folder upon it.
She waited.
The remaining whispers died without her needing to request silence.
Wednesday respected that.
“Good morning,” Principal Harrow said.
No one answered.
Her gaze swept across the students.
“I am delighted to see the enthusiasm with which you have greeted this final academic obligation.”
A low groan moved through the hall.
“Your delight appears poorly calibrated,” Wednesday observed.
Enid nudged her with one elbow.
Principal Harrow’s eyes found Wednesday immediately.
“Miss Addams. How reassuring to discover that your conversational restraint has survived another year.”
“It remains one of my less developed qualities.”
“I am aware.”
Something almost resembling amusement touched the principal’s mouth before disappearing.
“As many of you know, Nevermore was founded to provide a place of safety and education for young outcasts from every community. Sirens learn beside gorgons. Werewolves share classrooms with vampires. Psychics, shapeshifters and students whose classifications remain legally disputed all live within the same walls.”
Agnes raised her hand.
Principal Harrow regarded her cautiously.
“Is this about me?”
“No, Miss DeMille.”
Agnes lowered her hand, visibly disappointed.
“However,” Harrow continued, “coexisting at school is not the same as understanding one another.”
Wednesday felt Enid’s knee begin to bounce again.
This time she left it alone.
“You have learned how your classmates behave in lessons, during competitions and within the carefully regulated environment of Nevermore. You know their abilities, habits and preferred methods of retaliation. What you do not necessarily understand are the families, traditions and communities that shaped them.”
A murmur began.
Bianca’s shoulders stiffened.
Rowan stopped pretending to be bored.
Yoko slowly lowered the sunglasses she was wearing indoors and looked over their rim at the principal.
“This year,” Principal Harrow said, “the third-year curriculum will conclude with a new programme. The Interfamilial Outcast Immersion Project.”
Silence greeted the announcement.
Then Kent raised his hand.
“Is that as terrible as it sounds?”
“It depends upon your family.”
Several students exchanged grim looks.
Principal Harrow opened the folder.
“You have each been assigned a partner. For the first three weeks of the summer, one student will reside with their partner’s family. For the following three weeks, the arrangement will be reversed.”
The hall erupted.
Wednesday remained still.
Beside her, Enid made a tiny noise.
It was not quite a gasp.
It sounded more like a balloon being strangled.
Principal Harrow raised her voice without appearing to exert herself.
“For the seventh and final week, all participating students and their immediate families will gather at one of the Addams family’s private estates.”
Wednesday’s head turned very slowly toward the stage.
Around her, the eruption stopped.
Every student within visible range turned to stare at her.
Wednesday stared at Principal Harrow.
Principal Harrow continued with the composure of a woman announcing a minor timetable alteration rather than Wednesday’s public execution.
“The Addams family has offered the estate as the location for the programme’s concluding residency. During that week, you will attend moderated family discussions, identify areas of cultural misunderstanding and complete a joint presentation demonstrating how contrasting outcast communities might communicate more effectively.”
Wednesday’s expression remained blank.
Internally, she began selecting methods of matricide.
“The residency will conclude,” Harrow said, “with a formal Outcast Appreciation Ball, hosted by the Addams family and attended by all participating households.”
Silence swallowed Ophelia Hall.
Then Ajax whispered, much too loudly, “A ball?”
“A formal ball,” Principal Harrow confirmed.
“At an Addams estate?” Kent asked.
“Yes.”
“With everyone’s parents?” Divina added.
“Yes.”
“And Wednesday knew about this?” Yoko asked.
“No,” Wednesday said.
Her voice cut through the hall with surgical precision.
Principal Harrow met her gaze.
“Your family requested that the announcement remain a surprise.”
“My family has weaponised hospitality.”
Enid’s hand had risen to cover her mouth, but it failed to conceal the delighted smile spreading beneath it.
Wednesday noticed.
“You appear pleased by this escalation.”
“It’s an Addams ball.”
“It is an academic captivity exercise disguised as a social event.”
“At one of your family’s estates.”
“Where my relatives will have unrestricted access to the guest list.”
Enid’s eyes widened further.
“Do you think Cousin Itt will be there?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Oh my God.”
“That response is proportionate.”
“What about Grandmama?”
“She considers any gathering containing more than twenty people an opportunity to test experimental toxins.”
Enid practically vibrated beside her.
Wednesday placed two fingers against her knee again.
It did nothing.
“You’re sending us to live with each other’s families?” Ajax asked from behind them.
“Yes,” Principal Harrow said.
“For three weeks?”
“Twice.”
“With no breaks?”
“You will be permitted to sleep.”
“That wasn’t really what I meant.”
“I know.”
A dozen hands rose at once.
Harrow ignored all of them.
“Your families were informed six weeks ago.”
Wednesday became very still.
Six weeks.
Morticia had known about this for six weeks.
Gomez had known.
Pugsley had known.
Her brother had attended classes, eaten meals in the dining hall and crossed paths with her repeatedly while carrying this information.
Thing had almost certainly known as well.
None of them had told her.
Her entire family had conspired to conceal information from her and had succeeded.
Wednesday experienced a moment of cold professional admiration before resentment smothered it.
“Participation agreements have already been completed,” Harrow continued. “Transport arrangements have been submitted, accommodation has been confirmed and the medical office has received information concerning allergies, dietary requirements, lunar sensitivities and household-specific hazards.”
Agnes raised her hand again.
“Are booby traps classified as household-specific hazards?”
“Yes.”
“What about ritual sacrifice?”
“Yes.”
“Sentient fungi?”
“Yes.”
“Cursed dolls?”
“Miss DeMille, your family submitted eighty-three pages of supplementary documentation.”
Agnes beamed.
Yoko leaned around her.
“I suddenly understand so much about you.”
The hall dissolved into overlapping protests.
“My father isn’t even home most of the year,” Xavier said.
“My mother cannot be left alone with a stranger,” Bianca muttered.
Kent looked offended. “My family will make someone participate in a welcome concert. This could be socially fatal.”
Divina turned toward him. “Your aunt still has the shell costumes?”
“They have been updated.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Rowan stared at Principal Harrow as though attempting to determine whether telekinetically throwing an administrator through a stained-glass window would affect his final grades.
Wednesday’s attention shifted to Enid.
Her roommate had gone unusually quiet.
The colour remained in her clothes, her hair and the polished tips of her claws, but something behind her expression had dimmed.
Wednesday knew why.
She remembered Parent’s Weekend.
She remembered Esther Sinclair looking at her daughter as though Enid were an unfinished task rather than a person.
She remembered glossy brochures about lycanthropy camps and phrases wrapped in maternal concern but sharpened into weapons.
She remembered Enid standing beneath the trees, trembling with anger as she finally told her mother that she would wolf out in her own time.
Enid had transformed since then. She had fought a Hyde beneath a blood moon. She had found her wolf, claimed her strength and learned that being different from the rest of her pack had never meant she was lesser.
Wednesday doubted Esther Sinclair had learned at the same rate.
Enid’s fingers curled around the edge of the bench.
Wednesday looked back toward Principal Harrow.
“If participation is mandatory, why were students not consulted before agreements were made?”
“Because,” Harrow replied, “you would have objected.”
“A rare moment of administrative perception.”
“Your objection has been anticipated, documented and rejected.”
A few people laughed.
Wednesday memorised their voices.
“Your family’s agreement to host the final residency was also finalised before your objection could interfere with the arrangements.”
More people laughed.
Wednesday added their names to the list.
Principal Harrow turned a page.
“Partnerships were selected according to family structure, outcast classification, community traditions, previous interpersonal contact and the potential educational value of exposure to a contrasting household.”
“Please don’t send me to a siren commune,” Rowan said under his breath.
Bianca looked back at him.
“We don’t want you either.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
“You looked directly at me.”
“You were blocking the clock.”
“You can move objects with your mind.”
“That doesn’t mean I should have to move you.”
Principal Harrow began reading the assignments.
The first pairing produced a gasp from the left side of the room.
The second caused someone near the back to swear loudly enough to earn immediate detention.
By the fourth, students had begun calculating the probable destruction of their summer.
“Miss Tanaka and Miss DeMille.”
Yoko froze.
Agnes turned toward her with an expression of radiant wonder.
“We’re going to have sleepovers.”
“We are going to have separate coffins.”
“I don’t sleep in a coffin.”
“I may start.”
Agnes seized Yoko’s hand.
Yoko looked down at their joined fingers with the grave resignation of someone watching the sun rise over an uncurtained window.
Principal Harrow continued.
“Mr Petropolus and Mr Thorpe.”
Ajax blinked.
Xavier looked relieved.
“Okay,” Ajax said. “That could be worse.”
“My father’s estate has forty-two rooms,” Xavier replied. “You can select one on the opposite side of the building.”
“Your dad likes gorgons, right?”
“My father likes paintings.”
“I could stand really still.”
“You would remove your hat within ten minutes.”
“I would not.”
“You removed it during a fire drill.”
“It was hot.”
Principal Harrow read another name.
“Miss Barclay and Mr Laslow.”
Bianca and Rowan turned slowly toward one another.
“No,” they said together.
Principal Harrow made a mark on her paper.
“An encouraging display of immediate common ground.”
Kent laughed so violently that Divina had to strike him between the shoulder blades.
“Mr Walker and Miss Prescott.”
Kent’s laughter stopped.
Divina smiled sweetly.
“My mother still remembers what you did to her koi pond.”
“That was an acoustic resonance accident.”
“You exploded twelve fish.”
“They survived.”
“They have anxiety now.”
“They’re fish.”
“Tell her that during your first family dinner.”
More names followed.
Wednesday listened with mounting suspicion.
The available students dwindled.
Her name had not been called.
Neither had Enid’s.
Beside her, Enid had clearly reached the same conclusion.
Her knee stopped bouncing.
She sat very still.
Principal Harrow turned the final page.
“And our last partnership.”
The entire row seemed to lean closer.
Wednesday saw Bianca angle her head.
Xavier reopened his sketchbook.
Ajax grinned.
Yoko, temporarily distracted from her own impending ordeal, pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
Even Rowan looked interested.
Principal Harrow looked directly at Wednesday.
“Miss Addams and Miss Sinclair.”
Enid inhaled so sharply that three nearby werewolves turned toward her.
Wednesday felt nothing.
Nothing at all.
Her pulse had simply altered as a meaningless physiological response. The sudden loosening beneath her ribs was not relief. The heat spreading from the place where Enid’s arm pressed against hers was a consequence of proximity.
She had no emotional response to the assignment.
None.
Enid turned toward her.
Her eyes were wide and bright.
“Wednesday.”
The way she said the name was intolerably soft.
Wednesday stared straight ahead.
Principal Harrow closed the folder.
Enid’s hand landed on Wednesday’s forearm.
“It’s us.”
“I heard.”
“You’re coming home with me.”
“A conclusion easily extracted from the announcement.”
“And then I’m going to your house.”
“Your grasp of sequence remains functional.”
“And then our families are spending an entire week together at one of your estates.”
Wednesday’s jaw tightened.
“I had temporarily succeeded in suppressing that portion.”
“And there’s going to be a ball.”
“I am aware.”
“An Addams ball.”
“The adjective does not improve it.”
“It improves it a lot.”
Enid’s smile expanded.
The remaining shadow in her expression did not disappear, but joy rushed around it, warm and vivid and unmistakable.
Wednesday found herself looking at that smile for three seconds longer than necessary.
Across the aisle, Bianca held out her hand without looking away from them.
Xavier sighed and placed a folded bill into it.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Bianca said.
“You exchanged money.”
“Xavier owed me.”
“For what?”
“A private matter.”
“There are very few private matters that involve staring directly at me.”
Xavier resumed drawing with intense concentration.
Principal Harrow began explaining assessment criteria, travel dates and the prohibition against abandoning partners in remote woodland, but Enid leaned closer.
“I’m so glad it’s you.”
Wednesday’s spine went rigid.
Enid appeared not to notice the damage inflicted by six simple words.
“I mean, obviously the whole thing is completely invasive and weird,” she whispered. “And staying with someone else’s family for three weeks could be a nightmare. What if I got paired with someone who hated colour? Or talking? Or hugs? Or music? Or social media? Or emotional openness?”
Wednesday slowly turned her head.
Enid paused.
“Okay, that came out wrong.”
“You have just described me with considerable accuracy.”
“But you don’t hate it when I do those things.”
“I tolerate them.”
“You bought me new speakers after mine broke.”
“The crackling disrupted my writing.”
“You organised my nail polish by colour.”
“The previous arrangement was an affront to taxonomy.”
“You let me paint your nails.”
“One nail. Once. Under duress.”
“You picked black.”
“The alternative was fluorescent orange.”
“You kept it on for nine days.”
“I was conducting a durability test.”
Enid’s smile softened.
Wednesday looked away first.
“I just mean that I know you,” Enid said quietly. “You’re not some random person I have to explain everything to.”
Something inside Wednesday shifted.
She disliked it immediately.
There were many forms of danger. Some announced themselves with claws, fangs or loaded weapons. Others sat beside you in a striped blazer, looked at you with impossible blue eyes and told you that your presence made an ordeal easier to endure.
Wednesday preferred the weapons.
“At least,” Enid continued, “you already met my parents. So the first dinner won’t be completely terrifying.”
“I found your mother’s previous attempts at intimidation ineffective.”
“That’s because you stared at her until she forgot what she was saying.”
“She was advocating psychological coercion disguised as concern. Silence was the most civil response available.”
Enid’s fingers tightened slightly around Wednesday’s sleeve.
“Still. Three weeks is different from one weekend.”
“I’m aware.”
“And my brothers will all be there.”
“I’m aware.”
“They’re loud.”
“So is artillery. I’ve always found it manageable.”
“They’re going to tease me.”
“I can remove their tongues.”
Enid’s lips twitched.
“Mom might be…”
She stopped.
The joy remained, but anxiety moved beneath it.
Wednesday lowered her voice.
“If your mother attempts to subject you to further criticism concerning your development, appearance, abilities, friendships or perceived obligations to the Sinclair pack, she will discover that I am significantly less restrained inside a private residence.”
Enid stared at her.
Wednesday continued.
“I will begin with verbal correction. The severity of subsequent measures will depend upon her response.”
“Wednesday.”
“What?”
“You can’t threaten my mom before we even arrive.”
“I haven’t threatened her.”
“You just outlined escalating measures.”
“I omitted the details. It was a courtesy.”
Enid tried to suppress her smile.
She failed.
Her shoulder pressed more firmly against Wednesday’s.
“Thanks.”
“Gratitude is unnecessary.”
“Still giving it.”
“I reject it.”
“Still yours.”
Wednesday faced the stage again.
Enid did not move away.
Neither did she.
Principal Harrow finished reviewing the rules and dismissed them with a warning that any student attempting to exchange partners would fail the project automatically.
The room exploded into motion.
Students crowded the aisles, some protesting their assignments, others demanding information from their partners. Bianca stood and turned around before Wednesday could leave.
“Well,” she said. “This should be educational.”
Wednesday rose.
“For once, we agree. Three weeks observing siren family dynamics may finally explain your pathological need to interfere in the lives of others.”
“I meant you and Enid.”
“I know.”
Enid bounced to her feet.
“This is going to be amazing.”
“This is going to be catastrophic,” Wednesday corrected.
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” Xavier said.
Ajax joined them, one hand still clamped over his beanie.
“You get to stay at an Addams estate twice.”
Enid made a high, excited noise.
Wednesday flinched.
“I do! I’ve only seen pictures of the manor. And that one video Pugsley showed us of the indoor guillotine.”
“Pugsley was instructed not to distribute that.”
“He said it was a historical home feature.”
“It was installed last winter.”
“Still technically history.”
Wednesday made a note to interrogate her brother before dinner.
Agnes appeared beside Yoko, still holding the vampire’s hand.
“Do you think your family will let us explore the estate during the final week?”
“No,” Wednesday said.
“Yes,” Enid said at the same time.
Wednesday looked at her.
Enid smiled brightly.
“We’ll discuss it.”
“We just did.”
“That was the opening discussion.”
“There will be no sequel.”
Yoko lifted their joined hands.
“Take her. I’ll trade.”
“Partner exchanges are forbidden,” Agnes reminded her.
“I know. I’m considering expulsion.”
Rowan and Bianca approached from opposite sides, their expressions equally sour.
“This project is idiotic,” Rowan said.
“You’re only saying that because Bianca’s mother is going to dissect your personality before your coat is off,” Xavier replied.
Bianca smiled without warmth.
“She does enjoy identifying weaknesses.”
Rowan considered her.
“My father stores anti-siren weaponry.”
“My mother will view that as a shopping opportunity.”
Kent and Divina arrived behind them, already arguing about whether underwater singing counted as a compulsory family activity.
Within seconds, Wednesday and Enid stood at the centre of a noisy circle.
Wednesday despised circles.
They encouraged intimacy and made it more difficult to identify the weakest point in a formation.
“So,” Ajax said, looking between them, “who stays where first?”
Principal Harrow had distributed the individual schedules electronically. Enid pulled out her phone and opened the document.
Her face lit immediately.
“You’re with me first.”
Wednesday looked over her shoulder.
WEEKS ONE TO THREE: WEDNESDAY ADDAMS WILL RESIDE WITH THE SINCLAIR FAMILY, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.
WEEKS FOUR TO SIX: ENID SINCLAIR WILL RESIDE WITH THE ADDAMS FAMILY, WESTFIELD, NEW JERSEY.
WEEK SEVEN: ALL PARTICIPATING STUDENTS AND HOUSEHOLDS WILL ATTEND THE FAMILY INTEGRATION RESIDENCY AT AN ADDAMS FAMILY ESTATE. LOCATION DETAILS WILL BE PROVIDED DIRECTLY TO PARTICIPATING FAMILIES. THE RESIDENCY WILL CONCLUDE WITH STUDENT PRESENTATIONS AND THE OUTCAST APPRECIATION BALL.
San Francisco.
Three weeks surrounded by werewolves.
Three weeks in a home where colour was likely permitted on every surface.
Three weeks sharing meals with Esther Sinclair.
Three weeks observing Enid in the place where she had learned to make herself smaller before Nevermore allowed her to become loud.
Then three weeks at Addams Manor.
Three weeks of Enid living beneath the same roof as Morticia, Gomez, Grandmama, Lurch, Thing and whichever extended relatives arrived without warning.
Followed by an additional week at an Addams estate with both families, every participating household and a formal ball her parents had apparently begun planning before anyone bothered to inform her.
The prospect created an unexpected pressure behind Wednesday’s sternum.
She classified it as strategic concern.
“Your family already signed everything?” Enid asked.
“Apparently.”
Wednesday withdrew her own phone.
There were eight unread messages.
Four were from her mother.
Four were from Gomez.
None were from Pugsley.
That did not surprise her.
Her brother was currently somewhere on the Nevermore grounds, almost certainly enjoying the knowledge that she had only just discovered what he had known for six weeks.
She opened Morticia’s first message.
My dearest little storm cloud, I do hope Principal Harrow’s announcement was not excessively distressing. Your father and I believed the surprise would make the experience more memorable.
The second followed immediately.
We are delighted that darling Enid will be joining us. I have already arranged fresh flowers for her room.
The third:
Black dahlias, naturally. We would not wish her visit to become garish.
The fourth:
Your father has commissioned a welcome banner. I have discouraged the use of live bats indoors, but I make no promises.
Wednesday stared at the screen.
Enid leaned closer.
“A welcome banner?”
“You read that without permission.”
“You didn’t tilt the screen away.”
“I assumed basic decency would prevent intrusion.”
“You’ve lived with me for three years. That’s on you.”
Enid was smiling again.
Wednesday opened her father’s messages.
The first was written entirely in capital letters.
MI TORMENTA! WHAT MAGNIFICENT NEWS! SEVEN WEEKS OF CULTURAL DISCOVERY, FAMILY TRADITION AND YOUNG COMPANIONSHIP! YOUR MOTHER HAS FORBIDDEN ME FROM ORDERING FIREWORKS UNTIL MISS SINCLAIR’S ARRIVAL, BUT ANTICIPATION ONLY SWEETENS THE EXPLOSION!
The second was shorter.
PLEASE ASK ENID WHETHER SHE PREFERS SWORDS, AXES OR PISTOLS FOR THE WELCOMING DUEL.
Enid pressed both hands to her mouth.
“I love your dad.”
“A common affliction. There is no known cure.”
The third message contained a photograph.
Gomez stood inside one of the guest bedrooms at the manor, one arm stretched proudly toward the room behind him.
The walls had been covered in dark floral paper, the bed dressed in black and gold, and an enormous stuffed wolf sat in the centre of the mattress. It was pale gold, grotesquely soft and nearly the size of an actual adult werewolf.
A black ribbon had been tied around its neck.
On the table beside it sat a vase of black dahlias.
Gomez was grinning with the triumphant expression of a man who had successfully combined hospitality with taxidermy.
His accompanying message read:
YOUR MOTHER HAS COMPLETED THE FIRST STAGE OF MISS SINCLAIR’S ROOM. PUGSLEY INSISTED THAT THE WOLF WOULD PROVIDE CULTURAL FAMILIARITY. I BELIEVE IT ADDS WARMTH WITHOUT COMPROMISING THE FUNEREAL ATMOSPHERE.
Enid took Wednesday’s wrist and pulled the phone closer.
“Why is there a wolf?”
“My family associates you with the species in a manner lacking imagination.”
“It’s huge.”
“It appears grotesquely soft.”
“I’m naming it.”
“It isn’t alive.”
“I can still name it.”
“Pugsley may have placed something inside it.”
Enid’s eyes brightened.
“Like what?”
“A recording device. An explosive. A smaller wolf.”
“That last one doesn’t make sense.”
“That has never discouraged him.”
The fourth message arrived while they were looking.
ONE FINAL MATTER: PLEASE CONFIRM WHETHER ENID IS ALLERGIC TO SCORPIONS BEFORE WE COMPLETE THE BEDROOM PREPARATIONS. YOUR MOTHER CLAIMS THE QUESTION IS NOT RELEVANT. I BELIEVE ALLERGIES ARE ALWAYS RELEVANT.
Enid took Wednesday’s phone.
Wednesday seized it back before she could respond.
“No.”
“I was just going to say I’m not allergic to scorpions.”
“That would encourage him.”
“But I’m not.”
“Your biological tolerance is irrelevant.”
Enid laughed.
Several people around them had fallen quiet.
Wednesday looked up.
Bianca, Xavier, Yoko, Ajax, Divina, Kent, Rowan and Agnes were all watching them.
“What?” Wednesday asked.
“Nothing,” Bianca said.
Her smile suggested otherwise.
Xavier glanced at the giant wolf visible on Wednesday’s screen.
“Your family prepared Enid’s room before you were told about the assignment.”
“It appears so.”
“And your father is planning a welcome duel.”
“He attempts to duel most guests.”
“And your mother called Enid darling.”
“My mother deploys endearments indiscriminately.”
Yoko looked at Enid.
“Has Esther sent anything?”
Enid’s expression altered.
She unlocked her phone.
The Sinclair family group chat displayed thirty-eight unread messages.
Most appeared to have been sent in the last thirteen minutes.
“My brothers know,” Enid said.
“That explains the volume,” Wednesday replied.
Enid scrolled.
“They’re making bets about how long it takes you to threaten someone.”
“Fourteen minutes ago.”
“I told them that.”
Another message arrived.
Then five more.
Enid read them, groaned and pressed the phone against her chest.
“What?” Ajax asked.
“Nothing.”
Yoko plucked the phone from her hand with vampiric speed.
“Your eldest brother has asked whether Wednesday sleeps hanging upside down.”
“That is a habit associated with vampires,” Wednesday said.
Yoko continued scrolling.
“Another one wants to know whether she has ever smiled.”
“No,” Wednesday replied.
Xavier coughed.
Wednesday turned toward him.
He studied the ceiling.
Yoko’s eyebrow rose.
“Your mother says the guest room has been prepared according to Wednesday’s preferences.”
Wednesday extended a hand.
Yoko gave her the phone.
The message from Esther Sinclair was concise.
Enid, please confirm that Wednesday does not require any unusual sleeping arrangements. We have removed the brighter furnishings from the guest room and replaced the floral curtains. Your father has also secured the full-moon room and locked the tranquiliser rifles in the basement cabinet. Please make sure your brothers do not give her the access code.
Wednesday read it twice.
“How considerate,” she said.
Enid looked worried.
“Mom can be a little…”
“Controlling, critical and excessively concerned with appearances.”
“I was going to say intense.”
“Your description lacked useful precision.”
“She is trying.”
“To prevent me from accessing the tranquiliser rifles?”
“To make the room comfortable.”
“I find her assumption that I would attempt to access them flattering.”
“She’s met you.”
“That supports my interpretation.”
Enid took her phone back.
“I’ll tell her you don’t need anything special.”
Wednesday considered that.
“I require blackout curtains.”
“She already replaced them.”
“A desk.”
“There’s a desk.”
“A lock on the door.”
Enid hesitated.
“You know my brothers will just pick it.”
“Then I require permission to set traps.”
“No traps.”
“An alarm.”
“Fine.”
“A pressure-sensitive explosive beneath the window.”
“No.”
“Your resistance to reasonable compromise is concerning.”
Enid glanced around at their friends.
Her excitement had become self-conscious beneath so many watching eyes.
“I’m still glad it’s Wednesday,” she said. “Really glad. Imagine having to take someone home who didn’t understand my family at all.”
“I understand them sufficiently,” Wednesday said.
Enid looked at her.
“And there’s no one else I’d rather stay with for six weeks.”
The circle became very still.
Ajax looked at Bianca.
Bianca looked at Xavier.
Xavier quietly closed his sketchbook.
Kent developed sudden interest in a gargoyle near the ceiling.
Divina bit the inside of her cheek.
Agnes did not bother hiding her grin.
Rowan looked as though he had solved an equation and disliked the answer.
Wednesday felt every pair of eyes settle upon her.
She folded her arms.
“Your expressions suggest collective cranial damage.”
“No one said anything,” Bianca replied.
“You were all about to.”
“I wasn’t,” Ajax said.
Yoko looked at him.
“I was going to say it’s sweet.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
Ajax frowned.
“What?”
Enid’s cheeks had turned pink.
Wednesday disliked the colour’s arrival almost as much as she disliked noticing it.
“We are roommates,” Wednesday said.
No one responded.
“And friends.”
Silence continued.
“Close friends,” Enid added, too quickly.
Bianca’s mouth twitched.
Wednesday stared at her.
“Do you have an objection to friendship, Barclay?”
“Not at all.”
“Then remove that expression.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your face currently resembles that of a cat watching two mice enter the same trap.”
“That is extremely specific.”
“It is also accurate,” Yoko said.
Bianca elbowed her.
Principal Harrow called for the remaining students to clear the hall.
The group began moving toward the doors, though several continued casting looks at Wednesday and Enid.
They had barely entered the corridor when Wednesday saw a familiar figure leaning against the opposite wall.
Pugsley wore his second-year Nevermore uniform with the collar already crooked and one cuff singed. His school bag rested beside his feet. A faint smear of green residue marked his jaw, suggesting that whatever practical lesson he had recently attended had involved either chemistry or an unusually contagious amphibian.
He was grinning.
Wednesday stopped.
Enid almost walked into her.
Pugsley pushed away from the wall.
“So,” he said brightly. “How did you enjoy the surprise?”
Wednesday stared at him.
Pugsley’s grin widened.
“You knew.”
“For six weeks.”
“You ate breakfast with me this morning.”
“Yes.”
“You asked whether I had any plans for the summer.”
“I wanted to see whether Mother’s surprise remained intact.”
“You participated in psychological warfare before eight o’clock.”
“Father said I displayed excellent restraint.”
Enid appeared beside Wednesday’s shoulder.
“You suggested the giant wolf?”
Pugsley’s attention snapped toward her.
“You saw it?”
“Your dad sent a picture.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
Pugsley looked triumphantly at Wednesday.
“I told Mother she would.”
“You reduced her cultural identity to an oversized stuffed animal.”
“I also chose the ribbon.”
“It’s perfect,” Enid said.
Pugsley beamed.
Wednesday regarded them both with mounting displeasure.
“Have you hidden anything inside it?”
Pugsley looked wounded.
“Wednesday.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s Enid’s welcome present.”
“That is also not an answer.”
Pugsley turned to Enid.
“Father wants to know about the scorpions.”
“I’m not allergic.”
“Excellent.”
“No,” Wednesday said.
Pugsley was already typing on his phone.
“What exactly are the scorpions for?” Enid asked.
“The room.”
“That sentence contained no useful information.”
Pugsley finished sending the message.
“Mother says they are unnecessary. Father says they create atmosphere.”
“They create venom,” Wednesday said.
“Atmospheric venom.”
Enid laughed.
Pugsley picked up his bag.
“Grandmama is coming to the final week too.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“Of course she is.”
“She’s helping organise the ball.”
Wednesday’s expression did not change.
Bianca, standing several feet away, took one cautious step backwards.
Pugsley continued, apparently unaware that he was circling his own grave.
“She’s testing the punch recipes.”
“Are any of them non-toxic?”
“She said toxicity is relative.”
“Did she specify whose relatives?”
“No.”
Enid’s excitement remained entirely undamaged.
“Is the ball going to be at the manor?”
Pugsley shook his head.
“Different estate. Father won’t tell me which one yet. He said Wednesday might extract the information.”
“A reasonable concern,” Wednesday said.
“He also said it needs enough land for all the guests, the outdoor duelling ring and the fireworks.”
“What fireworks?” Wednesday asked.
Pugsley’s eyes widened.
“I’ve said too much.”
He turned and fled down the corridor.
Wednesday watched him go.
“Do not follow him,” Enid said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You leaned forward.”
“I was assessing distance.”
“Wednesday.”
“I’ll interrogate him later.”
Their friends began moving again, still casting looks between them.
Enid fell into step beside Wednesday.
For once, she was quiet.
They reached the next corridor before she spoke.
“Are you really okay with this?”
Wednesday glanced at her.
The noise of their friends receded ahead of them. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, staining the stone floor in fragments of blue, red and gold.
Enid twisted one of her rings around her finger.
“With coming home with me,” she continued. “I know my family can be a lot. And Mom isn’t always easy. Three weeks is a long time.”
Wednesday considered several responses.
Most were defensive.
Some were cruel.
One was true.
She selected it reluctantly.
“I would prefer you to any of the alternatives.”
Enid stopped walking.
Wednesday took another step before realising she was alone.
She turned.
Enid stood in the centre of the corridor, staring at her.
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“It was a comparative assessment, not an expression of affection.”
“Still counts.”
“It does not.”
“It absolutely does.”
Enid crossed the distance between them and wrapped both arms around Wednesday.
The impact forced half a step from her.
Wednesday’s hands remained at her sides.
For two seconds.
Then one settled against Enid’s back.
The gesture was solely intended to stabilise them.
Enid’s face pressed against her shoulder.
Her hair smelled faintly of strawberries, rain and the lavender conditioner she had left open in their bathroom that morning.
Wednesday knew that scent too well.
She knew the rhythm of Enid’s breathing when she slept.
She knew which floorboard Enid avoided because it squeaked.
She knew the difference between Enid’s cheerful silence, angry silence and the brittle silence that meant something had wounded her.
She knew how Enid took her coffee, how she arranged her pillows and how many times she checked the door before a full moon.
None of this constituted need.
It was observation.
Habit.
The accumulation of irrelevant information produced by prolonged exposure.
Enid tightened her arms.
Wednesday’s fingers curled slightly into the back of her blazer.
At the far end of the corridor, Bianca held out her hand.
Xavier gave her another folded bill.
Wednesday saw them.
Bianca saw that she had seen them.
Neither looked away.
Wednesday lowered her chin until her mouth was beside Enid’s ear.
“Barclay is wagering on us.”
Enid lifted her head but did not release her.
“On us doing what?”
“That remains unclear.”
Enid looked down the corridor.
Every one of their friends abruptly began walking again.
“Should we be worried?” Enid asked.
“They should be.”
Wednesday loosened her hold.
Enid’s arms remained around her for one lingering second before falling away.
They resumed walking.
Their shoulders brushed.
Then Enid’s hand slipped into Wednesday’s.
Wednesday looked down at their joined fingers.
Enid appeared to realise what she had done.
She began to pull away.
Wednesday closed her hand.
Enid looked at her.
“This is to prevent you from becoming separated in the crowd,” Wednesday said.
The corridor ahead of them was nearly empty.
Enid’s smile returned slowly.
“Obviously.”
Wednesday faced forward.
She had survived attempted murder, homicidal monsters, ancestral curses, school dances and three full years of adolescence.
Six weeks divided between the Sinclair and Addams households should have presented no meaningful threat.
The seventh week would place both families beneath the same roof at an Addams estate, surround them with dozens of outcast households, require a public presentation and conclude with an enormous formal ball organised by Morticia, Gomez and Grandmama.
Enid’s thumb brushed across her knuckles.
Wednesday reconsidered the prognosis.
The project would almost certainly kill someone.
Her primary concern was that it might be her.