By evening, the mood had shifted.
The energy of the day had settled, but for Wednesday, it had only become more irritating.
The reason is simple.
Her parents weren't leaving.
Vice Principal Barry Dort had arranged for them to stay at Nevermore, presenting it as a reasonable decision, then suggesting—without much resistance—that Morticia take over as chair of the Gala Fundraising Committee.
The previous chair, Xavier's father, had already stepped away after last year's events, having lost whatever trust he once had in the school.
Which made Morticia the perfect replacement.
From everyone else's perspective.
From Wednesday's perspective, it was unnecessary and inconvenient.
She stood by the window of her dorm, looking out at the academy grounds, her expression flat but her thoughts clearly less so.
"My return to Nevermore was meant to restore a sense of controlled isolation," she said. "Instead, it appears I've inherited a family extension."
Enid, sitting on her bed, looked up from her phone.
"I mean… it's not that bad," she said. "At least your mom being here isn't the worst thing. She's kind of—"
"Persistent," Wednesday cut in.
Enid hesitated.
"…supportive?" she tried.
Wednesday didn't turn.
"Her presence ensures a constant attempt at interaction," she said. "Which defeats the purpose of returning here."
She paused slightly, her gaze still on the courtyard.
"Nevermore was tolerable because it provided distance," she added. "Now it feels… compromised."
Enid watched her for a moment, then sighed softly.
"Your mom just wants to be involved," she said. "That's not exactly a crime."
Wednesday finally shifted her gaze slightly.
"No," she said. "But it is disruptive."
She didn't stay to argue.
Wednesday walked out, her steps precise and direct as she made her way to Principal Weems' office. By the time she reached the door, whatever patience she had was already gone.
She opened it without knocking.
"Principal Weems, why is my mother staying—"
Her words stopped.
Ethan was already inside, sitting across from Weems, clearly in the middle of a conversation.
Weems looked up immediately, her expression sharpening.
"Wednesday, it is considered proper to knock before entering," she said.
Wednesday didn't even look at the door.
"Pardon my lack of manners," she replied, her tone even, "but I'm not in the mood to follow them."
Her attention shifted fully to Weems.
"Why is my mother staying at Nevermore?" she asked. "You already have a wealthy backer sitting in front of you. I'm certain he is more than capable of funding the academy without requiring additional theatrics."
Ethan didn't interrupt, though his expression suggested he already knew where this was going.
"If this is about the Gala," Wednesday continued, "you could simply make him the chair. It would solve your financial concerns far more efficiently."
Weems remained composed, though her gaze flicked briefly toward Ethan before returning to Wednesday.
"This is not solely about funding," she said. "Your mother's involvement was suggested to address the academy's reputation."
Wednesday's expression didn't shift.
"So this is about perception," she said.
Weems didn't deny it.
"Partially," she replied.
Wednesday didn't hesitate.
"Then make him the chair," she said, pointing at Ethan as if it were the most obvious solution available. "I'm sure he's capable of mass-hypnotizing the public."
Ethan shifted slightly, clearly not appreciating being volunteered like that.
"Umm… Wednesday, that's not a good suggestion," he said. "There are… a lot of moral holes in that plan."
Wednesday didn't look convinced.
To her, morality was often an inefficient obstacle.
Weems exhaled softly, maintaining her composure despite the direction of the conversation.
"It is not within my power to overrule Vice Principal Dort," she said. "He has the support of the entire board of directors, and as long as his decisions remain within acceptable limits, I cannot revoke them."
Her gaze shifted briefly, then returned to Wednesday.
"Although," she added, "I don't particularly enjoy seeing your mother here on a daily basis either."
Wednesday's expression remained unchanged, but her response came immediately.
"That makes two of us."
There was a brief pause in the room, the kind that usually meant the conversation had reached its natural end.
Ethan broke it.
"Maybe we should bury Vice Principal Dort," he said, his tone casual, as if he were suggesting a practical solution.
Weems went still for a fraction of a second and slowly turned her head to look at him.
Wednesday didn't hesitate.
"Yes, we should," she said, already accepting the idea with far more seriousness than expected. "I'll go and get a shovel."
She turned slightly, fully prepared to act on it.
Weems straightened in her chair, her voice cutting in before either of them could take another step.
"That will not be necessary," she said, her tone firm enough to stop the momentum immediately.
Wednesday paused, glancing back at her.
Weems held her gaze.
"We are not solving administrative disagreements with burial," she added.
"But didn't I say this Barry Dort is shaddy?"
Wednesday replied evenly. "He came to Nevermore with a shaddy plan, so it would be more practical to make him disappear into the shadows before those shaddy plans unfold—for the safety of the students."
Weems looked at Ethan and pressed a hand to her forehead, wondering why trouble seemed to arrive right at the start of the school day.
*****
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