Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

in which Thorn becomes acquainted with her aunt

“Get out.”

Her mother was a good Christian. Good Christians didn’t tolerate magic, things that were abnormal or dark. And now Thorn was a dark, twisted, and broken thing, and so her mother had no further tolerance for her.

She didn’t care that it was the pastor’s fault. She didn’t care that it was the pastor who’d meddled with God and a girl and created something wrong and unholy.

She’d never liked Thorn very much to begin with, but once she’d seen Thorn in that strange, pale light looking like a fallen star, she’d had enough of her daughter. She was done with the girl who was too pretty for her own good, who stole her husbands from her, who made the pastor’s cross bend toward blasphemous obsession.

And so Thorn was thrown out onto the street to sit under the oil lamp and face what the pastor had done to her.

She felt the sacramental oil sting in her blood. She felt the blessed water seep from her eyes. And she knew that the sacrilege was what made her retch in the gutters that led to a storm drain.

She shivered and cast her eyes to the sky. Raindrops fell in her eyes and she saw crosses burned into the air like a thousand screaming stars. Droplets like rushing, falling angels.

Her chest heaved as she stood from her stoop at the curb. She did not look back toward her mother’s house. She scooped up the little coin purse with the communion wafers inside that her mother had tossed out with her daughter. Thorn cursed her mother and dumped the wafers into the storm drain. Thunder rolled in the empty street.

She watched the wafers float away in the dirty water and dissolve. She nodded to herself and stood up. She had decided where she would go.

Her father was long dead, but his sister was still around, though Thorn’s mother rarely spoke of her. When she did, it was only to mutter that the woman was the very spawn of the devil or a vampire or a succubus or some other wretched creature. Thorn had heard she was eccentric, demented, even—church folk talked.

Thorn knew where her aunt lived. Her house was a couple miles away, but it was not difficult to spot, with its great iron gates and eerie windows and skeletal spires.

Yes, the Addams estate. Thorn would go there, and hope her aunt would be willing to offer her a place to stay, at least for the night.

Thorn almost prayed she’d be well-received at the Addams’ doorstep, but then she thought better of it and instead muttered a halfhearted fuck you toward the general direction of her mother’s house and dismissed the dreary heavens.

Thorn’s dress was soaked through. She felt like a drowned rat. Her hair, which her curse-of-sorts had turned a pale, opalescent white, was stuck to the back of her neck and her cheeks.

She slipped through the open gates, which creaked amiably as she passed, and strode up the short flight of steps to the Addams’ front door. Of the large black double doors, she chose the right and lifted the silver knocker. It hit the door with a dull clang that out-sang the chorus of rainfall.

The door swung open at once. An unexpectedly tall man with bolts on the sides of his neck stood within the doorway. He bowed in a polite, clunky manner and moved aside for Thorn to enter.

She thanked him and ducked inside. She stepped into the parlor and was immediately horrified by the puddle of dirty rainwater that had quickly pooled at her feet on the shiny white tile. Thorn looked to the man to apologize, but he had disappeared and left her standing under a massive black chandelier to listen anxiously to the steady drip of water stemming from her person.

Thorn stood very still and looked around.

The parlor was pretty, but in a slightly unsettling way. The black and white marble checkered tiles had deep red grout between them. The crystal chandelier glittered like polished obsidian, but strings of spiderwebs drifted from it an a strangely artful way. There was no furniture present in the room besides a black wardrobe with a collection of dusty jars and vials on top of it, and Thorn swore she saw a disembodied hand twitch from within one of the glass containers. Her teeth chattered; the parlor was cold the way she imagined a morgue to be.

Footsteps finally broke the frigid silence. Thorn tried to unstick the hair from her face and straightened as a beautiful woman drifted into the room, her hips swaying in her black velvet dress.

Her waist-length raven hair was glossy like a slick of spilt oil. Her white decolletage swelled above her gown’s heart-shaped neckline, and her face was frighteningly lovely. The woman smiled, her plum-painted lips curling elegantly. The flowing sleeves that draped her arms fell to her elbows as she raised her arms to embrace Thorn.

“Darling,” she said. Her voice was warm and silky. “Lurch told me you had arrived. I have been dying to meet you.” She released Thorn smoothly, holding her out by her shoulders, and seemed not to care that Thorn had inadvertently soaked her gown. “How are you? Is your mother with you?”

“Aunt Morticia—,” Thorn began.

“Please, just call me Morticia,” she said. She reached out and tucked some of Thorn’s wet hair behind her niece’s ear, smiling slowly.

“Of course,” Thorn said uncertainly. “No, my mother is not here with me. She…” Thorn felt tears well in her eyes and found she could not talk past the ache in her throat.

Morticia frowned, her arched eyebrows drawing close, and hooked her arm through Thorn’s. “Come, we’ll go to the sitting room and talk by the fire—you’re as cold as death.”

Thorn nodded graciously and let Morticia walk her out of the parlor into the sitting room. She motioned for Thorn to take a seat in a luxurious burgundy settee and sank gracefully into a different upholstered chair across from Thorn. A large fireplace to Thorn’s left warmed her instantly. The pearly hair around her face dried and curled softly in the pleasant heat.

Morticia smiled again and draped her arms over the armrests in a decidedly queenly manner. The man who’d let Thorn in earlier, Lurch, appeared suddenly at Morticia’s side with a glass of red wine. Morticia took it with a polite nod and turned back to Thorn. “My darling, what is the matter? I sense that something terrible has happened, and that does not please me as it usually would.” Morticia’s eyes were dark and kind.

Thorn stared at her feet, at her wet sneakers with the gray laces. Her voice was awfully quiet. “I’ve been—” Thorn paused, “—cursed, and now my mother wants nothing to do with me or my… affliction.”

“I see,” Morticia mused, her spider lashes lowering. She set her jaw and rose.“You are welcome to stay here as long as you would like.”

“Thank you,” said Thorn in a soft voice.

Morticia nodded briefly and continued, “I would never throw any child of mine out, even in this exceptional weather.” A roll of thunder rumbled the Addams estate as if to underline her point. Her eyes were narrow as she said, “And I would never trust a man who deems himself holy with my daughter, for any reason.”

She approached Thorn with the wine glass in hand and gently lifted up a strand of Thorn’s strange hair. “I have seen this before in an dead pope’s diary. It was a lunatic’s documentation of an experiment carried out when the great churches were corrupt.”

Morticia sighed sadly. “It is why I insist altars are only for summoning harmless things like demons. Angels—” Thorn’s shoulder blades and the top of her head pricked. “—are much more dangerous.”

Thorn swallowed. She folded and unfolded her hands. This is the church, this is the steeple, open the church doors and see all the—

Thorn gasped and fell back in her chair. Her eyelids fluttered and she grew abruptly pale, almost transparent, like a ghost, like someone who could just disappear and never have existed at all. Her shoulder blades ached and the world looked silver and white and both sharp and soft and then very, very dark.

Someone was tapping on her shoulder. Thorn opened her eyes.

She was in a decadent bedroom, laying underneath a plush comforter in a large four poster bed. “What—”

Thorn choked on her question because the severed, stitched-up hand perched on her shoulder was rather unnerving. She gulped and fought the urge to swat it off her shoulder. The hand seemed to notice her unease and promptly waved at her.

“Hello,” Thorn said, a little stupidly, and fell back against the pillows. The hand scampered off her shoulder, down her arm, and picked its way up the bedroom door. It turned the handle, though Thorn could not figure how it gained any leverage to do so, and then Morticia strode into the room. She sat on the edge of the bed and peered at Thorn worriedly.

“You fell unconscious,” she explained. “I had hoped maybe it was just from shock, or from being wet and cold, so I changed you into dry clothes—my daughter, Wednesday’s—but it is as I feared. The Phasing has begun. You will need to go to a place that can teach you how to manage your episodes before they progress beyond the bounds of your control.”

Thorn had never felt more overwhelmed in her life, not even when she had been forced to stand at the altar in front of the stained glass as he had uttered ripped phrases from his holy book and tipped foul-tasting wine down her throat—

“Thorn, darling, I hope you understand. We must send you to people who can help you, people who have studied your kind before and know how to help you. Wednesday is there right now. They will teach you like they taught me.” Morticia took Thorn’s icy hand. “And there, you will not be alone.”

Thorn nodded mutely. She did understand, but everything was happening at a rate that threatened to smother and drown her. She nodded again and took in a shallow breath. “What is this place that will help me?” she asked.

“A horrid, wonderful school,” Morticia breathed. “Nevermore will help you in ways that I cannot. But you will have to leave soon, I say today, before the semester gets too far along and they refuse any more late admittances.”

She leapt from the bed and clapped her slender hands together. “Thing!” The hand came scampering in through the cracked door. It gave a little bow to Morticia. “Pack her a trunk, a light one with the necessities, and tell Lurch to ready the car.” Thing gave two affirmative taps on the floorboards with his pinkie finger and drew quickly away.

And despite herself, despite her fear, Thorn found that she was intrigued, maybe even excited, by the prospect of this new school, Nevermore. She got out the bed carefully and nearly passed out again. She was wearing a black cloak that went down to her ankles and not much else. She stood and swayed, wondering where her own clothes were, and if she would be able to get them back before leaving for Nevermore.

Morticia noticed her pause and said, “Apologies for the choice attire. Wednesday took all of her good clothes to Nevermore and left only her grave-digging outerwear. Why don’t you check in that closet for something more suited to you? I think you’ll find something. Thing likes to take advantage of his Five Finger Discount and go shopping once in a while.”

“Thank you, Morticia, for all of your help. I think I will have a look,” Thorn said, smiling gratefully, and walked over to the closet.

“I will be downstairs. I have to tell Gomez our 11:30 couple’s torture session will have to be postponed for tonight. He’ll be so disappointed.” Morticia looked regretful, but then she brightened and said, “Come find me in the parlor when you’re ready to depart. I’ll let Principal Weems know to expect you and sort everything out.”

Thorn thanked her aunt again, whom she’d already grown tremendously fond of, before Morticia left to find Thorn’s uncle, Gomez. Then she began searching through Thing’s purchases.

Thorn discovered, to her happy surprise, that the hand somehow had a taste for fashion. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

in which Thorn accidentally makes a future enemy and a scene in the courtyard

Thorn peered at herself in the mirror. She was a pale figure in the glass, standing out like a ghost against the deep purple velvets and abyssal blacks of the bedroom decor. She did not feel angelic in the slightest. The scars on her shoulder blades prickled.

She scowled and brushed down the cream-colored slip she’d found in Thing’s clothing collection. It was a pretty piece, with delicate lace on the neckline and the hem and thin satin straps that sparkled with clear glass beads as small as grains of sugar. She wondered briefly if it was too much for school, if it would draw too much attention, but then she considered the possibility of a uniform, or Wednesday’s grave-digging cloak, and resolved to be content with her dress. She slipped on some brown Mary Janes she’d found in the back of the closet that were more or less her size and headed down to the parlor to meet Morticia.

“Oh, darling, you look just ghostly in that dress. Adorable,” said Morticia. “Wednesday would never let me put her in white as a little girl. She always said it was the color of martyrs and ‘innocent victims.’ I suppose she was always the victimizer,” she said fondly.

Thorn forced a laugh and tried to keep the smile from sliding off her face as the word martyr, martyr rung in her ears like a death knell. She’d even dressed the part of a victim. That was what she was, now.

She heard Morticia cough, and then Morticia’s clap for Thing broke through her clouded thoughts. The hand came scuttling in with Lurch toting a beaten trunk close behind.

“Excellent. Thank you, Lurch,” said Morticia. “Shall we?”

Thorn nodded and Morticia floated over to the front door, which Lurch promptly opened for her. She motioned for Thorn to follow her out, Thing locking the door behind them.

Outside of the Addams’ gates, Thorn could see a long black hearse parked and running. Lurch had somehow already made his way down the steps and was putting Thorn’s case in the trunk.

Morticia took Thorn’s arm as they approached the car and turned her toward her. “You will be alright.” Her dark eyes were serious and still somehow soft. “And white is also the color of hope, and… good things, or so I’ve heard.” Her left eye twitched just slightly as she said ‘good things,’ but her smile didn’t waver.

Thorn bit back a laugh and blinked away tears at the same time. She’d never had anyone care about her, not for any of the right reasons, and so she hugged her aunt.

And although it felt a bit like hugging a corpse, she committed the feeling to memory. It was pathetic, she knew, but as she sat in the back of the car, Morticia in the front seat, she watched the Addams’ estate disappear behind her with a strange hopefulness that had not been there before.

By the time they arrived at the front gates of Nevermore Academy, it was absolutely pouring. Rain bucketed down the sides of the hearse's windows, throwing weird swirly shadows over the red velvet interior of the car. Thorn strained to see everything through the downpour, leaning forward from the backseat to look over Lurch's shoulder.

The gates opened on their own, as if by phantom breath or magic. Rivulets of water streamed down the windshield, but all Thorn could see was the castle of a school materializing from behind the trees as they finally exited the forest path to Nevermore.

Water spouted from grinning gargoyle mouths, and grand stone archways tapered off into ornate columns, while smooth gray brick ducked under sloping shingled roofs. Circular windows and spires poked through the storm as streaks of lightning jolted the sky behind the school. Somewhere between the thunder and the pounding rain, Thorn caught the rich, melancholic song of a cello. Thorn took in a breath just as more thunder rolled in.

Morticia turned around in her seat with a Cheshire smile, her white fingers curling around the back of the chair. "Awe-full, isn't it?"

More lightning struck the heavens as Thorn only nodded, her heart beating in time with the beat of the rain.

Lurch stepped out of the parked car and, at Morticia's request, stooped to open Thorn's door first. He handed Thorn an entirely black umbrella and her trunk as she stepped out into the downpour. She thanked him and waited as her aunt smoothly exited the hearse with Thing on her shoulder holding up another umbrella.

Morticia started forward toward the front door with an excited breath, glancing back to make sure her niece was following. Thorn heaved her trunk up from the curb and hurried after her.

"I am simply dying to tell Larissa all about you," said Morticia. At Thorn's stricken expression, her aunt quickly amended, "Of course, only the things you'd like her to know."

Behind them, Lurch started the car and expertly drove it out of the roundabout and parked it somewhere out of the way under the turning trees. Morticia picked up the door-knocker and let it fall back heavily against the dark wood. 

Immediately, the door swung open and revealed a small, blonde-haired girl in a striped Nevermore uniform. Her hair was pastel blue and pink at the bottom and pinned up at the sides with little barrettes. She gasped when she saw Thorn. 

"You're here," she breathed, breaking into a smile and clapping as she moved aside to let in Thorn and Morticia before she shut the door again.

Thorn blinked as Enid took her umbrella and shut it, shaking the rain off on the little rug by the door.

"I'm Enid, your tour guide. It's so great to meet you!" She took Thorn's newly freed hand and shook it.

"Hi, um, thank you" said Thorn, a little late.

Enid beamed, undeterred by Thorn's awkwardness, and hit the heels of her shiny black Mary Janes together once in a sort of happy dance, then added, "Oh, and hi, Mrs. Addams! It's lovely to see you again."

"Hello, Enid, darling. This is my niece, Ms. Hawthorn-Addams, or Thorn, as I'm sure you already know," said Morticia, introducing Thorn as she closed her umbrella and leaned it against the wall. Morticia gave Enid a knowing smile. "Would you mind taking us to Larissa's office to get Thorn fully registered?"

Enid stood up a little straighter, assuming her role as tour guide. "Absolutely. Follow me!" 

Enid led them up a short flight of marble stairs and down a corner to the right, stopping in front of a large door with a plaque that read 'Principal Weems.'

"Here we are!" announced Enid, knocking on the door twice. 

"Please come in," came a woman's voice from beyond the door. Enid opened the door and motioned for Thorn and Morticia to enter.

"I'll be waiting outside," Enid said, giving Thorn an encouraging smile before shutting the door again.

Inside the Principal's room was a large, open-mouthed fireplace burning with warm orange flames. Dark wood bookshelves lined the wall opposite the fireplace, and at the head of the room, behind a grand wood-carved desk, sat a tall, stately woman with perfectly coiffed platinum hair and red lips that reminded Thorn of an old movie starlet.

"Morticia," said Principal Weems, with a pleasant smile, "and Ms. Hawthorn, a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Nevermore Academy. I am Principal Weems. Please, take a seat." Principal Weems motioned toward two plush leather armchairs positioned in front of her desk.

Thorn followed Morticia's lead as she sank into the farthest armchair. Thorn sat down carefully and set her trunk in her lap, hugging it to her chest the way she would a pillow or a book when she was nervous.

"Now," said Principal Weems. "I apologize for the brevity and bluntness of my introduction, but from what I gathered conversing with Morticia yesterday, you are in need of special teaching at Nevermore as soon as possible. Is that correct?" Principal Weems asked gently, addressing Thorn.

"Yes," replied Thorn. She picked at the lace on her dress. "I... have a curse, and I'd like to learn how to control it before..." Thorn trailed off, partially because she was scared and nervous, and partially because she did not exactly know what happened if one had a curse like hers and couldn't control it in time. 

"I see," said Principal Weems. She tapped a pen against her desk lightly, thinking. She spoke, "At this school, we have a specialist for every kind of oddity you could imagine. We take care of and have a place for everyone. You will take the same classes on Changing, Shape-Shifting, and Supernatural Transitions like many of our students; this curse you have, by my understanding, is not so different from the Changing werewolves must go through, or the shape-shifting that even vampires can master." Weems paused, choosing her next words with care. "It is not my intention to belittle your situation. I know that this specific type of Phasing is a result of certain horrors having been done to you. I just want you to understand that we will help you, and that you are going to be okay."

Thorn let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was going to be okay. She took her trunk off her lap and set it on the floor next to her, keeping her face toward the ground a little longer than necessary so she could get herself together. 

"So," said Weems, "shall we talk about the exciting parts of your enrollment, then?"

"Let's" agreed Morticia, who had taken Thorn's hand. 

Weems smiled. "Firstly, let's discuss your uniform. I always have extras made in case of student mishaps; we often have werewolves who tear through their sets during the learning stages of 'wolfing-out', or acidic, cloth-eating explosions in the Botany-Chem. lab, among other harmless accidents," said Weems reassuringly, "so we certainly have one available in your size even on such short notice. I believe Enid will give it to you after the campus tour."

"Next," Weems continued, "is the problem of housing. Normally, we would put you with the other female students in Ophelia or Legrand Hall. However," Weems said, eyeing Morticia carefully, "both halls are at maximum capacity with it being this late into the semester, and it just so happens that we had a student, Rowan," Weems cleared her throat, "unfortunately leave us earlier and open up a space in Montresor Hall..." Weems drew off, trying to gauge Morticia's reaction to the solution she was implying.  

Morticia only smiled demurely and said, "Continue."

Weems looked pained as she smoothed her hair and went on. "Ms. Hawthorn, Montresor Hall is primarily an all-male student dormitory. I can assure you that students on what would be your floor are trustworthy, kind, and some of the brightest at Nevermore. But you would only be placed there if you are comfortable with that arrangement. I would never want to put you in a position in which you feel unsafe."

Thorn considered Weems' proposal for a moment. "Is it alright if I ask what the alternate housing would be?"

"Of course," said Weems. "You would live off-campus in an apartment in Jericho, the town just outside of the Academy. Your transportation to and from Nevermore would be paid for, as well as your rent."

Morticia hummed a little, watching Thorn. "She'd be on her own?"

Principal Weems sighed. "Yes. The distance from campus and her separation from the other students would be clear downsides."

Thorn nodded, weighing her options, making up her mind. "The apartment is a very kind offer, thank you" she said, "but I'm afraid if I don't even live at Nevermore, especially being new, I won't ever... fit in, I guess. And I don't want to have to deal with my curse alone. I'm tired of being alo--" Thorn cut herself off before she embarrassed herself. "I'd like to live in Montresor Hall," she said quickly. "Please."

Morticia smiled, her hand half-covering her mouth and her eyes twinkling as she said, "Gomez lived in Montresor Hall. I used to visit him often. He'd leave the window open for me at night and--"

"Morticia," Principal Weems sounded tired. "Please don't give your niece any ideas."

Thorn's face reddened.

"Not that I believe she'd be nearly as mischievous as you were," Weems added pointedly, shaking her head. "I was always in bed by curfew, listening to you climb down the drainpipe..."

Morticia cackled. "And you never told on me," she said fondly, wiping at her eyes. "You were always the good one, Larissa. It's why you make an excellent principal."

Weems' eyes softened and then suddenly snapped back into holding an expression of mild severity as she seemed to remember Thorn's presence. "Right. That's enough reminiscing for now. I believe we've covered most everything," Weems said. "Ms. Hawthorn, your class and activity schedule will be finalized and delivered to you by tonight. Now Enid will give you a tour of Nevermore and the opportunities that await you." She smiled, and as if on cue, the door swung open and Enid popped her brightly-colored head in through the doorway.

"Hi again!" Enid said, waving at Thorn and grinning. "Come with me! We'll start at the courtyard."

"Morticia and I will stay back and go over the extra details of your enrollment," said Principal Weems as Thorn took up her trunk.

Thorn nodded and reached out her hand to shake Principal Weems'. "It was really nice to meet you," she said, truly meaning it.

Then she said goodbye to her aunt and headed over the door where Enid was waiting. As she left, she could hear Weems and Morticia talking in hushed voices and laughing:

"I was not giving her ideas," whispered Morticia.

"You absolutely were!" cried Weems.

"I was not. She needn't even climb in and out of any windows!"

"Oh, God," Weems whispered. She sounded ill.

"I do hope that at least one of my daughters gets a chance at young love, just as Gomez and I did," Morticia said wistfully.

"I've made a mistake," said Principal Weems.

The door shut behind Thorn, then, leaving her to muse over both Weems' and Morticia's conversation and the fact that Morticia had referred to Thorn as her daughter as Thorn walked with Enid to the courtyard.

"So," Enid burst out as soon as they were out of Weems' earshot, pressing her hands together in excitement, "which dorm did you get? Legrand or Ophelia?"

"Uh--" Thorn started, following Enid as she went to open the double doors that led out to the courtyard.

"Please say Ophelia!" Enid slapped her hands over her mouth, abandoning the doors. "Sm-rry," Enid said, the apology muffled by her hand.

Thorn laughed. "I actually got Montresor?" she said, ending it like a question as she tried to gauge Enid's reaction.

Enid put her back against the door. "Oh my God! What?" Enid gasped. "Because Rowan left!" Her eyes went wide with realization as she pushed the door open. "That means your roomie--"

She didn't get to finish what she was going to say, because suddenly a gorgeous white dove flew in from the courtyard through the open doorway and dissolved into a pile of feathers at Thorn's feet.

"Woah."

"Yeah," agreed Enid, glancing down at the plumage thoughtfully. "He really seems to be into painting birds lately," she noted, then stepped outside, past the feathers. She held open her arms. "Welcome to the Quad."

"What--?" began Thorn, trying to keep up as she took in the courtyard.

A massive tree stood directly in the middle of the Quad. The grass was green and the stone walkways were alive with students laughing and talking, but the tree was decidedly--

"Dead," said Enid. "The tree's dead. But that's what makes it so cool!" she squealed and began introducing the students and the groups of outcasts they belonged to:

"Okay, so first we've got the Fangs," Enid said, pointing out a group of kids wearing sunglasses and chatting over peculiar-looking scarlet drinks. "Those are the vampires, if you hadn't guessed already."

"Got it."

"Great!" Enid moved to the next table where some kids with bushy hair were rough-housing and playing catch. "Next you've got the Furs, also known as the werewolves, like me." She waved. "Hey guys!" The Furs stopped pushing each other and waved back.

Enid pointed to the group closest to the dead tree. "The Stoners are gorgons. Ever heard of Medusa? Famous alumna."

One of the stoners wearing a blue beanie waved at Enid from the bench. Enid blushed and mouthed hi."That's Ajax, my, um, friend. I'll introduce you to each other sometime. He's amazing. I think you'll like him." Enid led her away from the Stoner table and stopped a little before the fountain in the middle of the Quad. "Finally," Enid lowered her voice, "you have the Scales. Sirens. You really don't wanna mess with Bianca Barclay; she's basically the queen of Nevermore."

Thorn watched the pretty siren girl sitting at the edge of the fountain. She was laughing and talking with two other sirens, absently swirling water and making little waves in the shallow pool with her hand. Her scales shimmered like her eyes. Thorn could definitely see how Bianca was school royalty; she was as beautiful as she was intimidating. "Yeah, I think I'm just gonna try to keep my head down," Thorn joked, pulling her dress down. She really needed to work on her nervous habits.

Enid made a funny noise that sounded a bit like laughter. "I'm not one to spoil surprises, but you might have a little trouble with that..."

Thorn blanched. Did they know what had happened to her? Did they know about her curse, what she'd let be done to her...?

Enid seemed to notice Thorn's sudden shift. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by that! I just meant that you're new, and new kids tend to get a lot of unwanted attention. Plus I kinda already wrote about you in my blog." Enid grinned, her eyes lighting up as she recited in a theatrical voice, "Nevermore's Newest Student: Will She be a Rose or a Thorn?"

Thorn half-groaned, half-laughed. "Oh no. I mean, thanks, but--" she stopped, annoying herself with the anxiety that was seeping into her every conversation. She took a deep breath and grinned. "I like what you did there, with the title."

Enid beamed. "Thanks. 'Thought of it myself," she said in a joking voice and looped her arm around Thorn's shoulder. "Now back to the tour!"

"There's more?" Thorn asked.

"Duh," Enid laughed and pointed out a couple more groups hanging around the Quad. "Psychics, mind-readers, shapeshifters--over there, um... Oh! And our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. He's the one who painted that dove from earlier." Thorn followed Enid's line of sight to the very end of the courtyard until she spotted the boy facing a gorgeous mural of a dove nestled among a bush of white roses.

"Pretty," said Thorn, looking at the careful brush strokes on the feathers and the way the flower petals almost seemed real. She'd always been better with graphite and charcoal then acrylics, but even as an amateur painter, she could see the true artistry in his work.

"Eh. I personally think Ajax is way cuter, but that's just me. I guess Bianca probably thought he was nice to look at, before they broke up," Enid said seriously.

Thorn laughed. "Oh, I meant the mural but... his back looks nice?" She couldn't really see him from this angle, only that he had his hair tied up and was turned away from the rest of the Quad, wrapped up in his work. 

Enid laughed, her face turning pink like the ends of her hair. "Ugh, sorry. Don't tell Ajax I said that."

Thorn pretended to be scandalized. "I would never." She added, "Besides, we haven't met yet."

"That's totally the next stop on the tour," Enid promised. "Then we'll go through the archery range, then the library, probably the greenhouse..."

Enid's voice trailed off. Thorn wondered why she'd gotten so quiet until she realized Enid hadn't stopped talking; Thorn had just stopped hearing. Her hearing was suddenly muffled, as if she'd dunked her head in the fountain and gotten water in her ears. No, please, thought Thorn, Not on my first day. But it was already happening. She couldn't stop it, she didn't know how yet. Her shoulder blades pricked and her vision went white. She hoped that when she passed out, she'd at least be quiet. Maybe only Enid would notice. Thorn's world started to go dark like before, but then something strange happened. Something new. 

Her vision cleared abruptly, and all of a sudden she could see everything. Every pore on every student's face, every singular hair on Xavier Thorpe's paintbrush, every speck of dust floating in the air. She saw it all, heard it all, heard someone singing, no, a chorus of voices, and light poured down from the sky, so brightly that it hurt her eyes. Everyone glowed, she glowed, and she felt herself rise up from the ground, her feet no longer touching earth. Her back screamed and her head ached. She felt weightless like a cloud and she knew that the only place she wanted to go was up.

"Holy shit," said one of the Stoner kids.

"Nah, man," said his friend from behind him, looking up at the glowing girl with the angel wings hovering in the middle of the courtyard. "Just 'holy.'"

Everyone in the Quad was arrested mid-motion in whatever they had been doing and watching the new girl sprout wings.

Enid's mouth hung open. "Oh my God." Enid blinked and shook her head. "I mean--God, um--" Thorn's hair had turned completely white, even the couple of strands that had still remained their original dark brown before. She rose a little higher in the air, white feathers cascading from her back. Damn. There was no way Enid was tall enough to get Thorn back down now. Enid was debating going to find a ladder when Thorn began to... fade. The light around her dimmed. Her feathers wilted as she lowered back down to the ground, and her form flickered like weak firelight in a cruel breeze. Enid rushed over to where Thorn had fallen in the center of the courtyard and touched her shoulder, only for her hand to go right through Thorn's insubstantial shoulder. Enid sucked in a breath. She was simply just evaporating. "Thorn!" she said, trying to get the girl to come to, but she dissolved even further into shadows. "Thorn, hey, come back!" Enid was panicking now, and everyone around her was frozen in shock except--Ajax ran to her side, Xavier following close behind him. 

"What should we do?" Ajax asked. "How do we help?"

"I don't know, I don't--" Enid started, trying to stay calm, when Xavier's voice cut in:

"She's bleeding. Ajax, head to the infirmary and get bandages." Ajax nodded and ran off as Xavier knelt down next to Thorn. He started speaking. "Think of an anchor. It's heavy, tied around your waist. It's holding you down, still, steady. It's keeping you here, where no one's gonna let you disappear." Thorn stirred, her eyelids shuttering. "You're still here." Xavier's voice was low and gentle.

Enid watched as Thorn's eyes flew open. Her form solidified, and suddenly Enid's hand could grasp Thorn's shoulder. Xavier backed away, like he was afraid to overwhelm her. He melted into the crowd of students that had formed around Enid and Thorn.

Thorn blinked a couple of times, her hand going to her shoulders where the skin was torn and bleeding. Her eyes grew teary. "I'm sorry," she said. "Sometimes I pass out and--" she seemed to notice the silence around her. She glanced around, confused. "What happened? Is everyone okay?"

Enid's heart broke for her. "Yeah," she said softly, pulling Thorn up from the ground. "Everyone's fine. Let's just go to the infirmary, okay? Then I can introduce you to Ajax." She forced a shaky smile.

Thorn nodded, letting Enid walk her out of the courtyard. She tried to recall what had happened--she saw flashes of light, heard pieces of a song, and... an anchor--but nothing stayed. She wanted to start over. Go back to joking around with Enid, or to the very start, before she was cursed, and fight just a little harder at the altar. Too late.

Blood was bleeding through her white dress, but the eyes on her back burned more than the cuts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

in which Thorn meets her roommate

"You okay in there?" Enid's voice came from outside of the bathroom door. 

Thorn grimaced as she pulled her striped Nevermore shirt over her head, the fabric catching on the bandages Enid and Ajax had helped her cover the gashes on her back with in the infirmary. Ajax had had to go back to class, but Enid was still excused from her lessons to give Thorn the rest of the school tour.

"Yeah," said Thorn, trying to keep her tone light. She'd finally stopped bleeding, but her shoulders still burned and her mind felt fuzzy. She pulled on the skirt and socks Enid had given her. "Yeah, I'm good." She unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall where Enid was leaning against the wall playing with what looked like a pink tamagotchi, but Enid slipped it into her pocket before Thorn could be sure.

"Omg, you are now officially a Nevermore student!" Enid said. "Turn." Thorn laughed and gave Enid a little twirl in the new uniform. "And congrats, you're part of the select few that somehow make purple stripes and knee socks look good."

Thorn grinned. "It's my washed-out complexion--goes with anything." She paused. "And I guess the white hair can go with a bunch of stuff too, huh." She felt her face fall despite herself, thinking of the deep chestnut brown her hair used to be, dark like her father's. Now it was blank, devoid of all color and memory it once held for her.

Enid took Thorn's hand. "You are gorgeous, and so is your hair. Plus, now we can dye it together and match! I've got way too many packages of box dye stuffed under my sink."

Thorn nearly burst into tears; she couldn't believe how kind Enid was being to her, especially after her freak show in the Quad. "Pink and blue would be kind of cool," she whispered, her throat feeling tight. She squeezed Enid's hand. "Thank you."

Enid tilted her head and gave her a sweet smile. "Anytime." She linked her arm through Thorn's and started walking. "Now let me finish my tour; we’ve got like two more stops to get in before you get your schedule. You're gonna love Caliban Cavern, it's like this candle-lit grotto thing by the lake with amazing acoustics--you play violin right?"

"I-yeah, I do," Thorn laughed, surprised. "How'd you know?"

Enid stuck her chin up as they turned a corner. "I have my sources," she said in a conspiratorial tone, her eyes shifting around. "Gotta keep the avid readers of my blog well-informed, you know?"

"Oh, of course," said Thorn, nodding her head. "Hey," she turned to Enid, "could you do me a favor and maybe suspend your upcoming post about a certain courtyard incident?"

"For you," said Enid, opening a door for Thorn, "my readers will stay in the dark."

Thorn smiled and was about to follow Enid through the doorway when an enormous black bird hurtled past Enid and landed directly on Thorn’s shoulder.

“God, what is with all the birds!” Enid shouted, throwing her hands up. Thorn stayed perfectly still, not saying a word, because there was a large crow on her shoulder. “Oh,” said Enid. “Nevermind. It’s just Poe. He delivers the schedules.” Thorn nodded as if this made perfect sense as Enid reached up to pet the bird, then untied the small roll of parchment knotted around one of his spindly legs. “Thanks,” she told Poe, who squawked once and promptly launched himself off of Thorn’s shoulder and back out the doorway. Enid unrolled the paper and read it. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “We have Botany together next period, look!” Enid handed Thorn her schedule.

Thorn read through it, seeing that she did have Botanical Sciences I with Ms. Thornhill, along with Fencing for Beginners with Coach Vlad, Changing, Shape-Shifting, and Supernatural Transitions with Mme Karr, and Visions in Reality: Lessons for the Novice Psychic with Prof. Linde, among other classes. Thorn’s heart skipped a beat. “This is so cool,” she breathed.

“You won’t be saying that when you have to take Werewolf Reproduction,” Enid muttered. Thorn smiled, shaking her head and flipping to the back of her schedule to find a list of Upcoming Activities at Nevermore! Something called the Rave’N was less than a week away, and she wondered if the Poe Cup had anything to do with the delivery-crow. Suddenly, a sound like the chiming of a grandfather clock resounded through the hallway. “That’s the bell!” said Enid. She smiled at Thorn. “Ready for your first class?”

"So," started Enid as they approached the greenhouse, fighting past the crowd of students moving to their next classes. Through the big glass windows of the greenhouse, Thorn could see that students were already seated and talking to each other while they waited for class to start. She spotted Ajax near the back with some other gorgons, eating what looked to be a bag of Cheez-Its. A small woman with glasses and bright red boots—Thorn guessed she was Ms. Thornhill—walked to the front of the room and adjusted a large green plant on her desk. "Do you wanna talk about anything before we go in?” asked Enid. “Like what happened in the Quad?"

Thorn stared down at her shoes. "No, it's okay. Thanks for offering, but," she took a deep breath, "I just want to move past it. I'm going to learn how to control whatever that was," said Thorn firmly, "so there's no point in mulling over it. I'm fine. I just need to prevent another... episode until my classes start," finished Thorn. She looked up at Enid and tried for a smile.

Enid was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I get that. I just--" she stopped and looked at Thorn steadily. Her serious expression contrasted with the levity of her barrettes and colored hair. "If you change your mind, come find me and we can talk. But if you want to move on, focus on your classes," she smiled, "let's go find a seat." 

Ms. Thornhill was watering the plant on her desk when Enid and Thorn entered the greenhouse. The room was just slightly humid and it smelled faintly of petrichor and soil. Ms. Thornhill glanced up as the two girls approached, a smile appearing on her face as she set the watering can down. “Hello, Enid,” she said brightly. Enid smiled at Ms. Thornhill and went to take her seat, shooting Thorn a look of encouragement. “And you must be Ms. Thorn Hawthorn,” said Ms. Thornhill, reaching out to shake Thorn’s hand. Thorn smiled and shook her hand, mentally cursing her mother for her atrocious baby-naming skills and her father for dying. “I’m Ms. Thornhill, your Botany teacher.”

Thorn smiled. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, returning her hand to her side. “And, um, just ‘Thorn' is okay; it's practically the same as my last name so it doesn't matter which one you use," she joked, crushing down the embarrassment that rose inside of her. 

"It's very nice to meet you, too, Thorn, and I think you have a lovely name, though I may be biased." Ms. Thornhill winked and smiled at Thorn, the corners of her eyes crinkling behind her blue cat-eye glasses. "How are you finding Nevermore?"

"It's incredible," said Thorn earnestly. She was being truthful; here, she had a chance. Here, she could fix everything. "I can't wait to start my classes."

"I bet so," said Ms. Thornhill with a warm smile. "It's refreshing to see a student so eager to learn. I'm excited to have you in my class." Ms. Thornhill turned to Enid, who was sitting at a desk in the front row and playing with that pink thing Thorn had seen her with before. "Enid, would you do me a favor and bring me that pot of flowers over on the windowsill?” Enid stood up, grabbing the small black flowerpot Ms. Thornhill was pointing to. “Yes, that one, thank you." Ms. Thornhill took the potted plant from Enid who nodded cheerfully and returned to her seat. "Usually, as your Dorm Mom,” Ms. Thornhill said, “I give all of my girls at Ophelia a plant that matches their personality. I was so sad to hear that you wouldn't be able to stay in our Hall, but I picked out a flower for you anyway. I was torn between roses and this one. Here," Ms. Thornhill said, holding out the small pot of tiny white flowers to Thorn. " Alyssum montanum ," she smiled. 

"That was so kind of you, thank you," said Thorn, taking the pot carefully. "They're beautiful." She touched one of the delicate petals and a waft of something sugar-sweet and floral hit her nose. "And they smell lovely."

Ms. Thornhill laughed. "I'm glad you like them. I thought maybe you'd appreciate the more creative option of the two plants."

Thorn grinned. "It is nice to finally catch a break from the roses correlation, and I certainly got enough of the "thorn in my side" thing from home." Ms. Thornhill frowned at the last part and Thorn cleared her throat, feeling like perhaps she'd overshared.

Enid's voice broke through the awkward pause. She’d definitely been eavesdropping. "Does this mean I have to stop using that wordplay in my blogs about you?"

Thorn laughed and relief flooded in as Ms. Thornhill's look of pity disappeared. "No, you get a pass,” she said to Enid. “I've restricted your writing process enough."

The chime of a grandfather clock rang out. Ms. Thornhill startled, putting a hand over her heart. She laughed and shook her head. "That bell scares me every time. You think I'd have gotten used to it this far into the semester, but it still makes me jump. Must be the normie in me." Ms. Thornhill sighed and adjusted her glasses. “Thorn, I have an empty seat open at the back table for you, next to Bianca and Wednesday. Oh, and there’s paper and pen in the drawers under the desks if you’d like to take notes.” Her eyes sparkled. “Today we're starting a unit on plants with mania-inducing properties. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

Thorn thanked her teacher and went to sit in the back, catching Enid’s eye as she passed by her desk. Enid grinned and gave her a thumbs up before quickly turning around to face the board where Ms. Thornhill had started teaching. 

There were two empty seats at Bianca and Wednesday’s lab table, but Thorn chose the spot next to Bianca, trying not to seem rude. “Hi,” said Thorn with a smile as she pulled in her chair. 

“Hey,” said Bianca, keeping her eyes on her notes. She finished jotting down her bullet point and looked up. “You’re the girl from the courtyard,” she said, her light eyes widening. 

“Um, yeah,” Thorn said, shifting in her seat. “I’m Thorn.”

“Bianca,” said the other girl, going back to her notes. Thorn nodded awkwardly, wondering what she was supposed to say now when Bianca pulled out a piece of paper from under the desk and slid over one of her pens. “Here. We’re on the five bullet points.”

“Oh,” said Thorn, surprised. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Thorn pulled the lid off of Bianca’s sparkly blue pen and squinted at the board. The Five Primary Characteristics of Mania-Inducing Plantae. Thorn copied down the first bullet point: Invites a distinct olfactory response. Interesting.

“Alright, can anyone tell me what the first bullet point means?” Ms. Thornhill asked from the front of the room. Bianca’s hand shot into the air.

Somewhere behind Bianca, Wednesday muttered darkly, “Typical.”

“Thorn,” said Ms. Thornhill, sounding pleased. “You’ve raised your hand. Would you like to answer?”

Thorn smiled and lowered her hand, excited that she understood something already. “Yes; olfaction pertains to our sense of smell, so I’m guessing that this specific plant life would have a notable scent as one of its primary characteristics.”

Ms. Thornhill smiled widely. “Very good.” She wrote Scent beside the first bullet point.

Beside Thorn, Bianca stiffened in her seat. Wednesday poked her head out from behind Bianca, leaning forward in her seat to look at Thorn with dark, dead eyes. “That was an excellent response, cousin.” She nodded at Thorn, then faced Bianca. “You have more competition.” She disappeared behind Bianca again and returned to furiously scribbling down notes.

Bianca turned to Thorn, looking horrified. “You’re related?” she asked.

“Yes,” came Wednesday’s voice. “Don’t we look so much alike, with our white hair and matching gray eyes,” she said flatly.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “I just hope you didn’t inherit the psychopath gene," she said to Thorn. "Clearly it runs in the family."

“Just as a baseless sense of superiority runs in yours,” Wednesday shot back.

“Damn,” whistled Ajax from the back of the classroom.

“Class, please,” Ms. Thornhill said. “Let’s refocus—” A knock on the greenhouse door cut her off. She sighed, leaving the board to open the door. “Oh!  Xavier, come in.” Xavier stepped into the classroom and leaned in, saying something to Ms. Thornhill that was too quiet for Thorn to catch. “Of course. I’ll excuse your tardy. Take a seat,” she said. “Okay, back to the lesson…”

“Skipping class again, Xavier?” Bianca smiled as he sat down next to Thorn. His hair was still pulled back like it’d been when Thorn had seen him in the Quad, but he was taller than she’d thought. Loose strands of hair fell over his eyes and he pushed them back impatiently, looking tired. 

“Not everyone can be valedictorian, Bianca,” he said, avoiding her gaze as he pulled out a worn leather sketchbook. Bianca’s face fell minutely and Thorn felt a twinge of pity for her as the girl went back to her notes. With his head down and his arm blocking her view of whatever it was he was drawing in his sketchbook, Xavier's deliberate silence made Thorn wonder if she’d somehow turned transparent again.

Deciding that Xavier clearly didn't want to be bothered, she returned her attention to the board, where Ms. Thornhill had moved on to talking about the specific petal shapes that denoted dangerous photosynthetic eukaryotes. Recurved, Reflexed… Thorn drew examples of the different types on her paper, noting the flowers’ symmetry—bilateral, radial—and adding unnecessary detail to each blossom. She looked down at her paper, admiring her sparkly blue garden. 

“Your linework is really good,” Xavier said. Thorn looked up to find his eyes already on her, his body angled toward hers.

“Thanks,” she said, surprised. “My hatching could use some work, though.”

Xavier grinned, his dimples flashing as he slid her paper over so he could look at it better. “Mmm,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re right,” he shrugged. “Worst hatching I’ve ever seen.” He gave her paper back.

Thorn narrowed her eyes at him, grinning. “Yeah? That bad?”

Xavier’s throat moved, his eyes dropping to the desk as he smiled. Thorn swore he flushed. "Abysmal.” He was looking straight at the board as he said, "You might need some drawing lessons.” He looked back at her. "I'm Xavier."

"Thorn. Nice to meet you," she said, holding his gaze.

“Is anyone else feeling this, like, tension?” whispered someone behind Thorn.

Thorn nearly choked and Bianca whirled in her seat, looking murderous as she glared at the siren boy behind her. “Kent, I will literally kill you,” she fumed.

“Can I help,” Wednesday said, completely devoid of inflection.

Bianco slammed her pen down on the table, entirely exasperated. “No. God, when does this class end.” At Bianca’s words, the grandfather clock chimed again, signaling the end of class. The entire botany class seemed to wake up, chairs scraping in and voices mingling as kids spilled out into the hallways. “Finally,” she said, gathering up her things and pushing her chair in, ready to leave.

“Wait, your pen–” Thorn started, but Bianca cut in.

“Keep it.” Her tone was as frigid as the look she gave Thorn before she stalked out of the greenhouse.

Thorn sat still in her chair, trying to process when Enid appeared at the front of her desk. She watched Bianca storm off and her eyes widened. “Eek,” she said, tapping her rainbow nails nervously on Thorn’s desk.

Thorn pocketed Bianca’s sparkly pen, feeling like she'd just organized her own doom. “Pretty much,” she said, and stood up.

"Hey, Enid! Thorn!" Ajax yelled over the chatter of students. He came over to where the two were standing against the outside of the greenhouse in a bid to stay clear of the class-change hallway traffic. "What's up? Your shoulders doing okay?" Ajax asked Thorn over the noise. The three began to walk down the hall.

Thorn smiled halfheartedly, still thinking about the freezing look Bianca had given her in Botany. "Yeah, no, they don't even hurt anymore. Must be you and Enid's expert bandaging," Thorn lied. Her shoulders pricked at her falsity as if just to spite her.

Ajax looked pleased and glanced at Enid, who grinned back at him, nudging him with her elbow and wiggling her eyebrows. "Nurse Ajax," she said, her eyes almost starry as Ajax laughed. Thorn noted that she'd never seen any two people look more delighted just to be in each other's presence. Not that she'd ever been in a very loving environment to begin with, but--

"Nah," said Ajax, looking down at Enid. "I wouldn't have even found the band aids without you."

Enid blushed and put her hands behind her back. "Um, so Thorn!" she blurted out quickly, "What did you think of Ms. Thornhill?”

"I like her," shouted Thorn, swerving around a group of Furs pushing each other into the wall while simultaneously trying not to drop the pot of flowers Ms. Thornhill had given her.

"Me too!" yelled Enid. "She's for sure my favorite teacher. She gave me pink and purple hydrangeas that are apparently immortal, because I totally should have killed them by now. Plants don't like me."

"That's because you forget to water them." Ajax said, shouldering past some Fangs that glowered at him after his elbow knocked one of their red drinks. 

Enid scowled, crossing her arms indignantly as she walked. "I do not ."

"What about those daisies I got you?" Ajax shot back. 

Enid grinned. "An unfortunate coincidence. They were already dehydrated."

Ajax rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. "Enid, I would not buy you half-dead flowers."

"Thorn, what were you saying?" Enid said, ignoring Ajax's comment. 

Thorn suppressed a laugh. "We were just talking about your, um, vividly green thumb."

"Ah, yes," said Enid seriously. "I think I will become a gardener. Maybe I'll start furnishing Nevermore's gardens, plant some vivacious daisies."

Ajax turned and looked Thorn dead in the eyes. "You will never see another living plant here again," he said, his face solemn. The little snake poking out from the bottom of his beanie shook its tiny head. "We'd better head to the gardens and give you a tour before she wipes them all out."

"I'd love to see the gardens," said Thorn. "Enid, lead the way."

"Alright, follow me," announced Enid. "Ajax, I guess you can come, too.”

"Wow, thanks," said Ajax as he and Thorn hurried after Enid, who was darting down the hallway with surprising speed. When they passed by the Quad, Thorn winced as the dead tree came into view through a window. "You okay?" asked Ajax.

Thorn nodded. "I just hope those kids in the courtyard have bad memory or something. Maybe they'll mysteriously get collective amnesia," she muttered. Ajax grinned.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Weird stuff--no offense--happens here, like, daily. Trust me. One time I stoned myself in the bathroom and the entire rowing team found me in the locker room shower with the water still running. That sucked ,” he laughed and Thorn a smile behind her hand. “People messed with me for about a week, and then they moved on to gossiping about Bianca and Xavier’s breakup.” He shrugged. “People are still talking about that one, so I think you'll be fine."

"They were a big thing, huh?" Thorn asked, feeling sick.

Ajax nodded. "Apparently Bianca used her siren song on him, or at least Xavier thought so. Kinda messy. Speaking of Xavier--"

Enid flung open a set of double doors, revealing Nevermore's grounds outside and a large building with gargoyles standing guard by the front entrance. An abundance of colorful flower bushes surrounded the Hall. "Welcome to Montresor's Garden! It's not as pretty as Ophelia's, but that's because they've got the in-suite bathrooms. No one can have it all," she sighed, looking up at the sky. "Alright, so I'm not technically allowed to go into the male dorms," explained Enid, "so Ajax is gonna take you through Montresor, and you should have some time alone to kinda settle in and take a breather before dinner."

Thorn nodded, grateful for the chance to take a break after… everything. "Okay, cool." She smiled. "Enid, I couldn't have asked for a better tour guide."

"I'm right here," said Ajax.

Enid ignored him and went to give Thorn a hug, careful not to bump the flower pot she was still holding at her side. "I hope we get some more classes together. And let me know if you need to talk, or impulsively dye your hair an outrageous color; I've got you covered."

Thorn hugged the other girl tight. She'd never had anyone this close to a friend. "Me too, and thank you. Really." Something beeped in Enid's pocket.

"Oh no , I forgot to feed him ," she wailed. "See you later, guys. I've got business to attend to."

"And flowers to water!" Ajax called after her as her colorful head disappeared into the flower bushes and down the garden path to Ophelia Hall.

Montresor Hall's gardens were beautiful, and Ajax assured her their water pressure was the best of all four dorms, but what really impressed Thorn was the common room; it was equipped with almost everything a student could ask for.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and a low-burning fireplace with stained glass windows on either side of it greeted her warmly as she and Ajax passed through the space. Brown leather armchairs were arranged around various desks and tables, and thick books left open on the most peculiar pages waited patiently under mounted desk lights to be studied. A chess board and several playing cards littered an oval-shaped coffee table in front of the fireplace, the surrounding cushions and pillows still pulled up by the table for tomorrow's resumed game.

"No way," said Thorn. She itched to sit down by the fire, maybe see if Ajax would be willing to teach her how to play chess.

Ajax grinned. "Yeah, it's pretty nice. I spend more time here than in my room." He kept walking, leading Thorn up a long staircase that stemmed off from the centralized common room. " Your room," he said, "is on the third floor. I've petitioned for an elevator, but Weems says the stairs are good exercise," said Ajax. After a few more minutes of climbing, they reached a hallway with a plaque labeled 3 on the wall. Ajax went down the hall, coming to a stop at the last door to the right. "Here we are," said Ajax. LEE SUITE, read the tarnished gold letters on the door. "Each room's named after an Edgar Allen Poe character."

"The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, went envying her and me-- " Thorn quoted. Her mother had only allowed her to read classics, along with the Bible, so she'd practically memorized every line of Shakespeare, Poe, Dickinson--

"Damn," said Ajax, "you got the Lee Suite and have Poe memorized. Bianca's gonna hate you."

Thorn blanched. "What? More? I don't--How do I make her not hate me?"

"I don't know, man. Be less smart? Just try not to antagonize her," Ajax suggested and handed her a slip of paper. Thorn blinked. Ajax, oblivious, went on, "Here's the code to your room. The code on the back is to get into the dorm. Try it out."

Thorn sighed, resolving that she simply would not interact with Bianca at all and avoid anything to do with Xavier as she punched the code Ajax had given her into the keypad on the door. It lit up green and the door clicked open. 

"Nice," said Ajax. “Now I know you won’t get locked out. That happened to me once, too,” he said brightly. "Okay, Thorn, that's all I got for the tour. Are you good on your own?"

Thorn stuck her foot in the door so it wouldn't lock on her again. "Yeah, I guess I'll just try to set up my stuff in the room--" She groaned, smacking her hand over her eye. "I think I left my trunk in the Quad when I—"

"Oh yeah, no, don't worry about it,” Ajax reassured her. “Enid grabbed it while you were passed out again in the infirmary. It should have gotten to your room by now, she said something about getting a hand—?" 

Thorn let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Enid," she said out loud. 

"She's the best," said Ajax, then he blushed and cleared his throat. "Well, um, I gotta go. My free period's almost over and Coach Vlad will kill me if I'm late for fencing again. Dinner's in the dining hall at 8:00. First door past the gardens to the right, but your roomie will probably help you find it." Ajax grinned and shook his head. "You've got some bad luck. See you, Thorn," he said and left Thorn wondering which part of her seemingly infinite bad luck he was referring to as she pushed open the Lee Suite's door and let it click shut behind her.

Inside the room, there was a faint, pleasant scent of something clean and sharp yet warm, something spiced like cloves, and an undertone of something else that was familiar to her but she couldn't quite place. She wondered who it was that smelled like that.

Next, Thorn was immediately struck by the massive stained glass window with lattice like a star. It took up almost the entire wall at the end of the room, letting in light that was shaded with pale blue and gold. Outside the window, Thorn could see what appeared to be a large balcony with thick stone railings; two gargoyles were perched at the overhanging corners. A rush of excitement went through her as she looked through the window; she got to live here .

Thorn glanced around the room. Against the wall facing the door, there were two beds set up parallel to each other and separated by a nightstand with a lamp and an alarm clock on top. She moved to set her flowers next to the clock.

In each corner on either side of the beds was a desk. The desk and the door nearest the window were empty; there were white sheets on the cot and a trunk on the desk, but nothing else spoke of a person living in the space. On the other hand, the desk closest to the door was littered with papers, the wall behind it covered with posters and pictures. The bed had dark gray sheets, the blankets pushed to the side like whoever's bed it was hadn't slept well.

Between the desk and the bed was a door cracked half-open, a towel hanging over the side. Thorn opened it and found the bathroom. It was neat, almost pristine save for the bottles of soap--clove scented--in the shower and the drawings taped to the mirror. Thorn leaned over the sink to look at the papers closer, but it seemed that steam and humidity from the shower had caused whatever ink had formerly been on the page to bleed out.

She closed the bathroom door, making sure to turn off the light before she left, and headed over to the two wooden dressers that were pushed up against the wall facing the beds. She left her roommate's dresser alone, trying not to pry, and opened the top drawer of her own dresser, finding it empty. She went to close it but stopped when her fingers brushed something on the underside of the drawer. She frowned and bent down. A piece of paper was taped underneath the drawer. Thorn carefully peeled the paper from the wood and went over to her bed, sitting down on the cot where the sunlight filtered in so she could see. 

The paper appeared to be a page ripped from an old book. The corners were wrinkled and worn from being folded over too many times, and the paper itself had taken on an aged tinge that muddled the print on the page.

Thorn squinted at the paper, trying to make out some of the words, but only one sentence stood out to her in the center of the page. A raven, dark, to unleash darkness and open the long-dead gates, a dove of this blood to lock them and break the line of hate.

A shiver went up Thorn's spine as she read the words. Someone had hidden this for a reason; she shouldn't have looked.. but the line about the dove was peculiar. She'd seen one just this morning, a painting come to life--

Thorn's heart dropped into her stomach as footsteps approached outside of the door. She swore under her breath and shoved the paper under her pillow, sitting up on her bed in what she hoped was a normal, unsuspecting manner just as the door opened.

"Hi," Thorn started, smiling brightly and weirdly out of breath as she greeted her new roommate. And it was then she realized what Ajax had meant about Bianca hating Thorn—more than she already did—and about her having bad, no, simply terrible luck. 

Because Xavier Thorpe was standing in the open doorway of the Lee Suite, his room. Thorn should have known.

Who else's room would smell of cloves and acrylic paint but Nevermore's resident tortured artist’s?

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

in which the person that was Thorn    begins     to            unravel

"Hey," said Xavier, shutting the door and going over to his desk. He set down his sketchbook and leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms as he grinned at Thorn. "You here for those drawing lessons?"

"I didn't realize you were my roommate," said Thorn. How on earth was she going to avoid him now?

Xavier's smile faded slightly. "You don't sound very excited about that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I swear, whatever you've heard, I had nothing to do with Rowan leaving."

"Rowan was your last roommate?"

Xavier nodded. "Yeah, he kinda... went off the deep end, got expelled." He glanced down, looking uncomfortable. "Telekinesis tends to mess with your head, I guess."

"I'm sorry," said Thorn.

He shrugged. "It's okay. He probably needed the break." He frowned. "I just wish he'd answer his phone..." he said, more to himself than Thorn. He looked back up, snapping out of his thoughts. "Did Wednesday tell you about the monster that's supposedly running loose in Jericho?" he asked, his tone playful, but his eyes had the same strange, tired look to them Thorn had noticed in Botany. 

Thorn shook her head. "No. As soon as the bell rang, she bolted out of the greenhouse before I got a chance to talk to her."

"Really? I thought she'd be dying to freak out the new kid." He grinned. "'Don't go out past curfew or the Jericho Boogeyman will get you,' something like that." 

"Why does she think there's a monster?" Thorn asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"According to Bianca, Wednesday told her she saw Rowan get gutted by this thing in the woods. Weems stepped in, cops were all over the scene, and then Rowan came back the next day like nothing happened and got expelled." Xavier shook his head. "I don't know, the whole situation's pretty weird," he conceded, "but we all saw Rowan alive. Kinda discredits Wednesday's story that she saw him get murdered." A wave of unease passed over Thorn, and she couldn't help but glance at her pillow. Was the cryptic paper she'd found under the dresser drawer Rowan's? If it was, maybe it had something to do with whatever actually happened to him... Xavier noticed Thorn's eyes shift to her pillow. "Hey, if you're too tired to work on our boat for the Poe Cup tonight, don't worry about it," he said.

"No, it's fine, really. I'd like to help," she said, forcing a smile and trying to quell her panic; she'd thought he'd noticed the paper she'd stowed under her pillow, the evidence that she'd been snooping and found something that had likely been for his troubled roommate's eyes only. She breathed and thought back to her schedule with the list of Nevermore activities, focusing on what Xavier had said about the Poe Cup. "Is that like some kind of tournament?" she asked.

"Right, sorry--I forgot no one's filled you in. It's pretty much just capture the flag between the four dorms, but the catch is that you can cheat." He half-winced as he said it.

She grinned. "What, outcasts don't follow rules?"

Xavier gave her a lopsided smile. "One of the few perks of being cast out of society is that there are less of those that you have to adhere to." He pushed off the desk and held the door open. "Come on, we're getting dinner at the Weathervane after. Unless you want to stay and eat in the Dining Hall, where unfortunately the rules of the culinary world are also ignored."

Thorn laughed and slid off the bed, following Xavier out the door. She'd set up her side of the room later.

"Dude," said Ajax, sliding back into the booth next to Enid, setting down the strawberry milkshake he'd bought Enid. "There's no way we're not winning this year."

Enid took a sip of her shake. "We'll see," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "May the best team absolutely crush Bianca and her Scales tomorrow."

"No, I'm serious. Thorn and Xavier totally decked out the boat, and our costumes are sick." Ajax picked up a fry, waving it around and then submerging it in ketchup to emphasize his point: "Bianca's gonna sink."

"That, we agree on," Enid said, popping the maraschino cherry into her mouth. "Thorn, you've been quiet. What do you think?"

Thorn pulled her eyes away from the barista working at the back of the cafe. "I--Sorry, does that barista look really familiar to anyone else?" Beside her, Xavier set down his water.

"Who, Tyler Galpin?" Enid asked, turning to look at the boy making a latte behind the counter. "That's the sheriff's son. He's a normie."

"Yeah, and a dick," said Xavier, his eyes on Tyler. His grip around his glass was tight.

"Heyy," said Ajax, glancing at Xavier. "Do you guys wanna start heading back? We've got class tomorrow and it's getting kinda dark. And I don't know about you, but Wednesday's monster story kinda got me freaked out."

"Sure," said Xavier flatly.

"Sounds like a great idea!" said Enid, a little too loudly. She took a last sip of her milkshake and slid out of the booth after Ajax. They headed to the door as Thorn stood up.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna get something to go," she said, her voice sounding distracted. Xavier's eyes darkened as he followed her line of sight to the back of the cafe. "I'll be right back." She slipped out of the booth and walked over to the front counter. Behind her, the bell at the door rang as the others left. "Hi," she said. Tyler didn't glance up from the espresso machine; he seemed to be preoccupied with another order. 

"One second, sorry," he said, ducking down behind the counter. He came back up with a to-go cup with a lid. "What can I get for you?" he asked, pouring some steaming coffee into the cup.

Thorn laughed awkwardly as Tyler secured the lid to the cup and set it down on the counter beside him.  "Uh, nothing, actually, I just--Do we know each other?"

Tyler's brows furrowed and he finally glanced up. He looked at her a minute, something very faint, bordering on recognition flickering in his eyes. Then he took a step back, the smile sliding from his face as his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he whispered. "Lyssa?"

Tyler stepped out from behind the counter and hugged her tightly, pressing her face to his chest. "I didn't think I'd see you again, from what you told me about your mom. Jesus, yeah, how have you been? How'd you end up in Jericho?" He stepped back, his expression open and concerned.

Thorn was at a loss for words. She had no idea how to respond, no idea why Tyler thought she was someone named Lyssa and how he knew her. "I--" she started, "I'm so sorry, I think you're thinking of someone else." She laughed awkwardly and pulled at the hem of her sleeve. Her face felt hot as his eyebrows drew together and the concern in his eyes deepened. 

"Lyssa, you really don't remember me? Y'know, from Camp? We were the 'Unsettled Youths' together with our mutual jackass parents?" he tried for a joke. When he saw the confusion stay steady on her face, he frowned and shook his head a little, like he was trying to come out of a dream. "Your hair's different," he said. "It was brown last time I saw you."

Thorn's hand reached up the the crown of her head on its own. Her head was spinning. He seemed like he genuinely knew her, and it was making her stomach flip in a weird way that felt like a warning. "It was brown," she echoed. She went to sit down on a nearby chair in a daze, Tyler coming to her side to pull it out for her. "Thanks," she said distractedly, her mind whirling through every memory she possibly had, searching for a way and a time she knew Tyler Galpin, a normie boy from Jericho. Lyssa. The name he'd called her snagged on something in her mind, the fragment of familiarity so small it was almost nonexistent. But--Lyssa--there it was again... She blinked and suddenly fixed Tyler with a steady look, her gray eyes serious. "You're positive that it was me. That we went to some boot camp together and that I was named... Lyssa." 

Tyler returned her steady gaze and nodded, shrugging minutely as he said, "Unless you have a long-lost twin or a doppelgänger or something--which honestly wouldn't be weird for Jericho, there's been weirder--" he laughed a little, "then yeah, it was you. You're hard to forget." He cleared his throat and glanced down, drumming his fingers on the table next to where Thorn was resting her elbow. 

Thorn swallowed, processing his words. "You said I talked about my mother. Did I ever mention her name?" she asked carefully. If Tyler knew this... She actually wasn't sure what that would mean for her. What was she supposed to do with the knowledge that she might have been another person entirely, and forgotten all about it?

The corner of Tyler's mouth quirked up. "You called her 'Loopy Loretta' at Camp. You said she was crazy and that the only reason she hadn't tried to off you yet was because it would be a sin." His face warmed before he quickly added, "Your words, not mine."

Thorn's eyebrows raised and she almost laughed, but the heavy pounding of her heart smothered the desperate giggle rising in her throat. "That does sound like my mother," she said, putting her head in her hands. "Ms. Loretta Hawthorn-Addams." A haughty and stupid name that was more about preserving status than honoring two unified families. It was almost as stupid as Thorn Hawthorn. Thorn inhaled and fought against the urge to loose a scream on the exhale. Instead, she raised her head, folded her hands on top of the table, and looked up at Tyler. "I changed my mind. Could I get a coffee?"

"Sure thing." Tyler smiled and stepped back behind the counter again, pulling out the biggest mug Thorn had ever seen. "What kind?"

"Whatever you want to make is fine. Thanks," Thorn said, picking at the hem of her uniform sleeve again. She had no idea who she was. The threads on her sleeve were fraying already because of how much shed been unconsciously rubbing at it the whole time she'd been at the Weathervane. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight. Who was she?

"So what happened?" Tyler asked, too occupied with the mug and whatever caffeinated mixture he was heating up to notice Thorn's panic creeping in. "Why don't you remember some stuff? It's crazy that you don't remember Camp. The smell of the shower rooms alone will never not keep me up at night--" The sound of Tyler's voice faded away as Thorn got lost in the vertical Nevermore stripes on her shirt. They were oddly dizzying to look at, the colors looking more and more faded the longer she stared at the purple shifting to plum shifting to lavender shifting to some awful dusty-gray shade to white to---

Nothing.

"Damn it, I knew this would--Tyler, what the fuck did you do to her? What did you say?"

"Listen, I promise, I didn't do anything, we were talking and I was making her a coffee and then I turned around and she--"

"Fuck. Thorn--"

"Her name's not Thorn, it's Lyssa."

"What the fuck? Is that why she's passed out? Cause you decided to try some mindfuck shit on her?"

"No, I didn't--you don't get it. I know her--"

"Yeah? You know her so well, wake her up."

"Calm down, man. I tried. Should I just call my dad? He could get a hold of your principal--Wait, look, she's breathing. She's fine. Lyssa!--See, she moved. Lyssa! Lyss--"

"Galpin, shut up. Thorn, please."

"You have to--"

"God, man, move. Lyssa--"

Thorn's head shot up off the table where she'd been slumped over, eyes wide. Her ears were ringing with the sound of her mother calling her name--not Thorn, but Lyssa--as if it were only natural, as if Loretta had always lovingly called her Lyssa and not the name of the harshest and ugliest part of a rose. The sound was a memory, one Thorn hadn't known she'd lost.

Tyler stood comically still next to the table, staring at her, his face white. Xavier was kneeling next to her chair, breathing hard, his arm dangerously close to knocking over the drink Tyler had made for her. A coffee-creamer smiley face was just barely visible as it further dissolved into the cooling coffee. 

"I thought my curse only gave me stuff, powers I can't control, nightmares... but I was wrong," Thorn whispered. It was deadly quiet in the coffee shop. "It took things, too. I'm missing whole parts of my life," she said, her voice rising in pitch. "My memories. My name?" She bit down her hysteria, bit it down until all she could taste was the unfamiliar flavor of anger. Anger toward her mother, the self-righteous pastor or priest of whatever-the-hell kind of fraud he was, even toward her father, who'd died and left her alone...

Her eyes stung but she blinked until the sensation went away because she was sick of feeling weak. It was exhausting, and probably not just for her. Guilt seized her as she took in Tyler's blanched face, the shadows under Xavier's eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said wearily. "Thank you, Tyler, for the coffee. I didn't mean to," she took a harsh breath, as she thought of all the people she'd already disturbed in the courtyard, "scare you."

Tyler nodded with a smile, still looking shocked. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're okay. I'll--see you around," he said, leaving the table. "And drop by if you ever wanna... talk about what you missed at Camp," he added, flashing a weak sort of grin, then he excused himself with something about needing to close the shop.

Thorn looked down, then to the dissipated smiley face in the mug, then to Xavier, who had pulled up a seat next to her, his elbows resting on his knees, his hair still tied back. He looked back at her patiently, waiting for her to speak. "I swear," Thorn started, "you won't have to deal with this again," she said. "I'll learn how to control it, starting tomorrow with class. I won't be your freaky roommate, I promise," she said. "And if I do pass out again, please just leave me there, I'm fine." She looked him in the eyes.

Xavier just grinned and glanced down, shaking his head a little. "I think the Addams stubbornness is genetic," he said. "I'm not just gonna 'leave you there.'" Thorn swallowed, watching him carefully. "And I'm cool with having a freaky roommate," he said. "At least I know you won't throw me against a wall with your mind when you're pissed."

Thorn surprised herself with a laugh, despite feeling as though her world had just collapsed for a second time in her life. "Ouch?"

"Yeah. It's kinda fucked up, now that I think about it," he said, grinning and reaching to stir Thorn's coffee until Tyler's milk-foam smiley face disappeared. When he looked back up, his smile had disappeared, also. "What did he say to you?"

Thorn swallowed. "Who, Tyler?" Xavier nodded, turning the spoon slowly between his long fingers the way one might flip a pencil. "Nothing wrong," she said quietly. "He just helped me remember something." She paused. "I didn't even know what I'd forgotten, or that I'd forgotten so much..." She took a sip of coffee, which tasted better mixed, her eyes darting around the Weathervane as she ran through her thoughts like a lost girl fleeing through a twisted forest in a fairytale. 

"So, the 'Lyssa' thing..." Xavier started, waiting for her to fill in the rest. Thorn returned her eyes to his hand, where he was flipping the spoon over the ring on his middle finger, and back. 

"I think that's my name." She glanced away from his hand to her coffee. "'Thorn Hawthorn' always seemed lazy to me," she said wryly, bitterly. "I believe my father had better sense--and taste--than that."

Xavier nodded and set down the spoon, his eyes suddenly fully on hers. "What do you want to be called?"

"Lyssa suits me," she decided after a moment. "And honestly," she said, "I'd rather be called anything but 'Thorn.'"

"Okay," said Xavier, humming and tipping his head to the side, a grin forming on his face. "Lyssa," he said. "Lyss."

"Yes?" When she answered, a sort of thrill went through her, like something right was finally happening, like she'd finally captured a bit of herself from back before she'd been made into something else for someone else.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and glancing down with a smile, his cheeks faintly flushed. "I just wanted to see if you liked it."

"I did," she said, willing herself not to blush. "But say it again, just so I can make sure," she joked, but Xavier's face suddenly became more serious, something darkening his eyes. He leaned forward, sliding his elbows onto the table next to hers until their arms touched. 

"Lyssa," he said. She felt oddly jittery, like the coffee was kicking in all at once. 

"Xavier," she answered back tactfully, but finding it strangely difficult to maintain her light smile while he was looking at her past a strand of hair that had come loose over his eyes. 

"Guys," said Tyler, appearing behind the counter again with a set of keys. "We're closed."

Xavier sighed and slid back in his seat, glaring at Tyler. "We'll leave. The coffee was cold anyway."

"I didn't make it for you," Tyler answered with a frown, his eyes going to the spoon Xavier was turning over his knuckles again. 

"I didn't order any," Xavier shrugged, letting the spoon fall to the table with a clatter that made her jump in the quiet of the empty cafe.

Tyler's jaw ticked. He moved to pick up her half-empty mug and Xavier's dropped spoon. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now, Thorpe? I thought your principal gave you a curfew."

Xavier didn't miss a beat. "Sure, but she's more lenient about it if you're out with your roommate." He held the door open for her, Lyssa, and shrugged at Tyler again as if he should understand. "You know, buddy system. Sweet dreams, Galpin."

Tyler blinked and looked between them as Xavier and Lyssa left, still holding her coffee cup and the spoon lax at his side as the door jingled shut. Lyssa waved at him apologetically through the glass before turning to walk under the streetlight with Xavier, back to Nevermore and the Lee Suite.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

in which Lyssa learns Xavier has secrets, too

Lyssa sat down on the edge of her bed in thought, towelling the ends of her hair dry and wrinkling the white sheets she'd tucked neatly at the corners as she listened to the shower water run. Moonlight filtered in through the stained glass window.

She felt strange. Lighter, but also heavier, like she'd released something on her back only to find something new and weighty clinging onto her chest. She picked at her nailbeds, pushing her cuticles down just to see how far they could go.

Being 'Thorn' had never felt right to her, but at least she knew who Thorn was. 'Lyssa' was someone unfamiliar to her, like an acquaintance she remembered fondly yet little of. Maybe more of her memories would come back, if only she could prompt more to resurface, trigger them somehow, like Tyler had done, and remind her of who she had been. Maybe then she'd be able to stop walking the world like a shade or a two-dimensional paper doll. 

For now, she had to commit to being something. It would do her little good to float, lost in the middle of two versions of herself, as some third, formless thing. She would give 'Lyssa' a chance. But would others?

Xavier stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and pajama pants, a towel over his shoulder, his hair still dripping. A wave of clove-scented soap and pleasant humidity washed over the room as the steam filtered out. "Hey," he said, hanging his towel on the hook at the back of the door. "Thanks for saving me some hot water."

"No problem," she grinned, still partially lost in her head trying to determine how she thought of herself when her brain wasn't paying attention. Did she think of herself as Thorn, still? Or did her mind know her as Lyssa? She groaned.

"What, mattress pokey?" Xavier fell onto his bed and leaned back against headboard, putting his hands behind his head as he looked at her sideways. "Rowan used to complain it was like sleeping on a bunch of sharp rocks."

Lyssa laughed. "No, I'm just dreading explaining to Enid, and Ms. Thornhill, and everyone else I've just met as 'Thorn' that I've suddenly changed my name to Lyssa, which isn't remotely similar to Thorn--and would it help to explain why, or does that only make it more confusing? Or does anyone really care that much?" She swallowed and pulled her sheets up around her, ruining her precise folding. 

Xavier sat up, turning his body towards her. "Tell people what you want to," he said. His voice was gentle, and something told her she'd heard him speak like that before, but she couldn't recall when... "It's probably cliche, but you don't owe people explanations. And you aren't obligated to care about what they think, either." Lyssa looked at him with disarmingly soft eyes, her head tilted like she could see him better in the pale, glass-colored light if she tilted her chin so slightly-- Xavier cleared his throat. "Or at least that's what my dad says. It's how he deals with his exorbitant amount of fame or whatever," he said with a flat voice as he pulled one of his gray pillows off the floor. "He's an asshole, but it's good advice, I guess."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "I hate when terrible people have redeeming qualities." 

Xavier grinned. "Right? I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

"Conflicted," said Lyssa, and then slipped into a frown again. "Confused."

"We'll help you get more memories back," said Xavier quietly, reaching over to flick off the lamp on the center nightstand. Lyssa still sat at the edge of the bed, holding her sheets around herself in the muted-silver darkness. Her hair caught moonlight like dew on a dreamcatcher. 

"Good. Then maybe I'll be able to sleep at night," she murmured. 

Xavier laughed. She could imagine his smile in the dark. "Lyssa," he whispered. "Lie down."

"I can't," she whispered back, a smile creeping up her face. "Feels like rocks."

"Mine feels fine," Xavier said.

Lyssa paused. Laying down slowly, she turned on her side to face him. She could see the glint of his smile past the dainty, unfurling petals of Ms. Thornhill's flowers on the nightstand. What had they been called, again? "Maybe that's why Rowan threw you into walls."

His smile widened and she could tell he'd wiped a hand over his face before tucking it under his pillow. "Bed envy?" he mused in a low, sleep-laden voice. 

"Mhm," she answered, stifling a yawn. Something about his voice was comfortable to listen to, like a good storyteller's warm timbre. 

"Give me a heads up if you're feeling envious, then," he said, the smile in his voice slightly muffled as he turned over in the bed, throwing an arm over his chest. "Goodnight, Lyssa."

"Goodnight," she answered, her eyelids drifting shut as her breath evened out enough to just barely stir the air that smelled of clove soap and paint and the strange, sugary scent of Alyssum Montanum. 

"Woah," Lyssa said, rubbing her eyes as sunlight streamed in through the window like a screen of gold. 

"Fuck," said Xavier, pushing his hair back with both hands. They were shaking and covered in smudged charcoal. Around him, pages and pages of feverish sketches were strewn on the floor, piled on his bed, thrown on the nightstand. The clock read 6:06 AM. He stood up, peeling the soaked-through shirt from his chest as he picked up a drawing from the floor. Lyssa watched his face as his throat moved and he crumpled the paper, picking up another. "Losing my mind," he muttered, letting the sketch fall to the floor. 

Lyssa threw off her covers and approached him carefully, touching her fingers to his wrist. "You're not losing your mind," she murmured. Xavier swallowed and picked up a paper resting at the foot of her  bed. He showed it to her. 

"Doves," he said, staring at the ghost-like bird, barely-there on the paper in lights sweeps of white charcoal. Her heart dropped. Rowan's paper-- "Every night, it's a dove, and this." He bent to scoop up the crumpled paper and unfolded it, smoothing it out on his palm for her to see. On the wrinkled page was a garble of black charcoal in the shape of a face--a dark and gashed, open maw and stretched, bulging eyes in pitlike sockets that bore into hers. 

Lyssa shuddered. "What is that?"

Xavier's throat moved again. "I don't know. But I keep getting these nightmares, and I can feel it," he said lowly, "lurking, at the back of my mind. It's always there, since... I don't know, since the week Rowan left."

"Wednesday's monster story..."

"Yeah," he rasped. "I'm starting to think she was telling the truth. But--" he stopped, sitting down on his bed, his elbows on his knees. "But then why am I getting these visions?" He looked up at her, his eyes searching her face. 

"Maybe it's a warning--" she started, sitting down opposite him.

"What if it's not," he said, turning away from her, his face shadowed. "Weird that it was my roommate who disappeared, huh?" he said darkly. He looked back at her. "You need to get moved. See if Weems can squeeze you in with Enid and Wednesday or something."

Lyssa shook her head, glaring at the floor, and held up the dove sketch. "What about the dove? They're supposed to be good omens, good luck." Xavier sat back, quiet, his jaw moving. "Look at this," she said, reaching under her pillow for Rowan's paper. She sat down next to Xavier, handing it to him, and took a breath. "I found it," she said. "Yesterday. I didn't mean to hide it from you, but I felt like I shouldn't have seen it at all..." She stopped, waiting as he read the lines on the page. When he'd finished, he set the paper down on his bed.

"What does that mean?" he asked, looking off past the stained glass, somewhere outside. "And why did Rowan have it? Why have I had visions of a dove but not the raven?" He rubbed a hand over his eyebrow. "I wish we could ask him."

"We could ask Wednesday," Lyssa offered quietly. Xavier looked at her.

"Can we--" he started, then looked down, clearing his throat. "I don't want to talk about the nightmares."

"I won't say anything," she said, catching his eye and holding his gaze until he knew she meant it. "To anyone."

"You barely know me," he said, his eyes still on hers before they darted to the crumpled sketch of the monster, with its straining eyes and needle-teeth. "What if I'm not worth the trust?"

"Then," she said, standing up, the dove drawing in her hand, "you'd be the best of my regrets," she said, giving him a smile that was both sweet and sad, like sunshine through blue stained glass. The clock now read 6:11. "You have class at 7:00, too, right?" she asked, mentally reading her schedule: Changing, Shape-Shifting, and Supernatural Transitions with Mme Karr, 7:00 AM.

"Normally, I do, but I-uh, have a pass today," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I can find Wednesday while you're in class, ask her if she knows anything about Rowan's weird verse"

Lyssa nodded, pulling her uniform out of the top drawer of her dresser. "Thing might be able to see if my Aunt Morticia knows anything, too."

There was a knock on the door.

Xavier got up from his bed to open it, revealing Ajax on the other side.

"Dude," Ajax started, "how did you sleep. I mean, if Enid was in my room, I would not be able to close my eyes--" He stopped, his eyes cutting to Lyssa. "Oh. Hey, Thorn! Enid sent me over to walk with you to class."

Lyssa cringed, opening her mouth, closing it, opening it again to struggle through some sort of explanation about the shaky status of her identity, when Xavier spoke, his eyes reading her face for any objection as he said, "Uh, update; she learned yesterday that her real name isn't Thorn--"

"It's Lyssa, apparently," she said weakly, feeling foolish already. "But Thorn is fine, so whatever you wanna call me--"

"Lyssa's a pretty name," Ajax said brightly. "It's like that one flower that kills you if you eat it!" Xavier shook his head minutely and Lyssa stifled a laugh. "What," he said. "Botany's the only class I stay awake in 'cause all the plants smell so weird I can't close my eyes. And now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure Thornhill put a Wake-Blossom by my desk on purpose." He frowned. "Damn, she definitely did that on purpose. Wednesday has a sunflower on her desk."

Lyssa laughed. "What's on yours?" she asked Xavier. 

He ducked his head, flashing a dimple. "A Worrynaught. I fidget with my hands so much, she probably thinks I'm anxious all the time."

"Are you?" she asked.

He grinned and shrugged. "Absolutely. Speaking of," he said, glancing at the clock on the dresser, "I have to go." He grabbed his uniform from where he'd laid it over his desk chair and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he appeared again, zipping up his purple hoodie before he slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Good luck with class," he said to Lyssa. "I think you'll like it, just don't sit next to Kent. He doesn't know what's going on."

Ajax nodded. "Sit next to me. I have Cheez-its."

"Thanks," she said, to both of them, suddenly feeling excited and nervous about today. The Poe Cup was one thing, but finally learning about how to control her Phasing, her curse? That was another.

"See you guys at the Poe Cup," Xavier called as he left. 

Ajax let the door close behind him and sat down at the bottom of Xavier's bed, clearing away some of the sketches. "What's with all the papers?"

Lyssa moved into the bathroom with her uniform in hand, trying to figure out how to dodge the question. "Uh, Xavier was giving me some drawing lessons. I'm trying to work on my skills with charcoal and pastels and stuff." She pulled her nightgown off and traded it for her collared shirt and striped blazer, stopping when she realized she didn't know how to tie a tie.

Ajax whistled from beyond the door. "I can definitely tell which ones are yours. These are nightmare fuel. No offense, Lyssa."

She burst into nervous laughter as she yanked on her socks and skirt. "Yeah, Xavier thought so, too."

"Nah, he probably just said that 'cause he's being nonchalant." Lyssa stepped out of the bathroom and rummaged through her trunk, hoping Thing had packed her toothbrush and toothpaste. He had.

"Nonchalant?" she said distractedly.

"Yeah, like cool," said Ajax. She went back into the bathroom, keeping the time in mind; she did not want to be late to her first day of her most important class. "But I think it's better to just be chalant. Enid likes it when I'm chalant. Ooo, nice shoes."

Lyssa beamed at him, tying on the black combat boots Thing had packed for her. "Thanks! Thing knows what he's doing."

"But how," Ajax deadpanned.

"Thing only knows," Lyssa said, bending down at Rowan's old desk to check the drawers for left-behind school supplies. Feeling slightly guilty, she extracted a flimsy spiral notebook with a couple pages torn out from the bottom drawer, and she found a pen on the floor by the chair.

"Oh, wait," said Ajax, peering down at her from her bedside. "Stop scrounging around like a sad mouse." Lyssa blinked and got up from the floor. "Here," he said, handing her his messenger bag. "It's from Weems."

"Isn't that yours?" Lyssa asked, hesitating before taking the bag carefully in her hands. Inside were hardcover notebooks, a Nevermore-striped folder, multi-colored fountain pens, a pouch of paperclips, some bookmarks with shiny-thread tassels, and another copy of her schedule. "Wow, thank you," she breathed.

"Don't mention it! I'll tell Weems you liked it if I run into her, but Poe will probably let her know," he said. "I lost mine a while ago. I just use my pocket, now. See?" He pulled from his pants pocket a ridiculously tiny black pencil an equally tiny stack of sticky notes. "Anyway, we've got ten minutes to kill. Breakfast?"

"Sure," Lyssa said, smiling as she hoisted up her new leather messenger bag, admiring the engraved Nevermore crest.

Ajax grinned. "Lemme show you the dining hall. It's totally awesome, except for some of the food."

"Ajax, you must finish the muffin outside," said Mme Karr, a stout old lady with a pleasant face and graying black hair pulled back into a low bun. She tipped her glasses up when she saw Lyssa. "Ah! Hello! You must be our new student, Ms..."

"Lyssa Hawthorn," said Lyssa, smiling at her teacher and trying to avoid eye contact with Bianca, who had perked up and narrowed her eyes in her seat at the front when Lyssa had spoken. "Nice to meet you." Mme smiled and encouraged her to take a seat next to Ajax, who had opted to shove the entire muffin in his mouth and sat down, in the row behind Bianca. The second Lyssa had sat down and Mme Karr had returned to her desk near the board, greeting other students who were filing in, Bianca turned in her seat, her blue eyes piercing.

"What's with the name change," she demanded. "Haven't you had enough drama?" 

Lyssa felt like she was melting into her seat. "Just trying to correct a lie."

Bianca blinked and leaned back a little, something about the blue of her eyes seeming a little less harsh. "Oh," she said, and then scoffed, "I know how that goes around here. Good luck." She turned back around in her seat before Lyssa had time to formulate a response.

"I'm feelin' whiplash, dude." Ajax had his knees pulled up to his chest in his chair, a small carton of goldfish balanced on one knee. 

"It's the redeeming qualities," Lyssa muttered, mostly to herself.

At the front of the room, Mme Karr clapped her hands. "Class," she said once the talking had died down, "we will pick up where we left off last period, and let out early for Poe Cup preparations, which I know you all are excited for." The class gave a little cheer at the mention of the upcoming competition. "Let's make the most of our shorter class today and focus on Supernatural Transitions, bottom section eight in the Merrin Alwell book--yes, please take them out." The students sitting around Lyssa bent in their seats and pulled out a thick, navy hardcover book embellished with gold text from a little shelf beneath the desks. Ajax shrugged and set his goldfish carton down, then reached for a book, which he handed to Lyssa.

"Thanks," she said.

He nodded. "I usually just read her notes on the board." 

Lyssa smiled and shook her head, then opened the book to section eight, following the page number underlined in chalk at the front.

Insubstantiation and Other Effects: How to Stay on the Steady Plane, read the section title. Lyssa's heart leapt as she read on, tuning out the voices around her:

Those who are capable of Supernatural Transitions of any kind are often subject to various complications related to their abilities. Many fledgling vampires, for example, find it difficult to navigate the periods of seemingly-randomized darkness and accompanied sensations of what could be described as disembodiment, disconnectedness, and/or physical non-existence that occur when the vampyr youth is nearing a complete form-change from human to bat, raven, or crow.

Further, werewolves, who are different in species yet experience similar symptoms during immature Changes of Form, may be especially susceptible to those common symptoms due to their heightened emotional sensitivity. Werewolf adolescents may be "triggered" by environmental stimuli or even internal stimuli such as significant memories, anxieties, stress, intense happiness or despair, etc. that prompt an unanticipated bout of Transition symptoms (i.e. feelings of disembodiment, disconnectedness, and/or physical non-existence).

Already, she recognized parts of her curse in the description of what others her age went through on the daily. Suddenly, the Phasing seemed less daunting, abnormal, even less fatal. Mme Karr's voice came back into range; she was reading aloud from the bottom of the section:

Persons and/or Creatures who experience such symptoms and wish to combat or neutralize them must first begin practice of Grounding Techniques that the individual finds to be most personally suitable. After mastering the art of Grounding, maintaining the sensation of the Steady Plane is the advised, yet advanced angle an individual may take to manage Symptoms. The following is first an incomplete list of potential Grounding Techniques, and finally a brief overview of the Steady Plane and how one may utilize it:

On the chalkboard, Mme wrote out the bulletpoints from the textbook:

1. Humming/singing a piece of music with sentimental value

2. Recalling a loved one's voice, touch, or scent

3. Touching an object with distinct texture or extreme temperature

4. Inflicting small amounts of pain on oneself (e.g. biting one's tongue, cutting into one's palm with one's nails, pressing on a bruise)

5. Involving a third party, though this is not always a reliable method depending on the progression of Symptoms  

"Now," said Mme. "I'll read the overview of the Steady Plane, but it's an advanced topic, and I don't want to move too far ahead and overwhelm you all, especially those who could quite benefit from working on the basic Techniques at this time. We as scholars are in no place to rush proper learning." She nodded once and returned to her book, adjusting her spectacles. "Alright..."

The Steady Plane is a somewhat nebulous perception of one's Reality. It is a feeling similar to the weight of gravity, more a Knowledge of Being and Staying than a perceptible sensation. Some might call it an unwavering assumption, and certainty, that one's place in Reality as they know it is guaranteed, until death. It is a confidence in one's existence, that their physicality is part of the other innate laws of their Reality, and it therefore must not change or act inconsistently. The Steady Plane is an intimate acceptance of one's organic and ultimately fixed fabric. It is one's ability to understand the likeness between a stone, a feather, and oneself.

"... and oneself," Mme Karr concluded. She looked up at her students. "If anyone is confused, not to worry. I simply wanted to introduce the concept to you so that I was not concealing the big picture from you." She smiled. "Let's discuss the Grounding Techniques." Lyssa read through the bullet points again, trying not to let her mind wander along the vague, theoretical-ness of the Steady Plane and instead focus on what she could likely sooner grasp. "Now, as a Versipellis, I have tried my share of Grounding Techniques. I have personally found Techniques 1. and 2. to be most effective and efficient. By this, I mean that I did not have to go searching about for ice cubes or scraps of sandpaper whilst in the midst of an onslaught of Symptoms in order to ground myself. It was much more convenient to use my mind to more-or-less imagine myself out of an episode of de-realization. Do you all understand?" Lyssa nodded with the rest of the class, noting how almost every eye was trained on Mme Karr. She admired her professor already. "Good. Technique 4. is difficult: I do not want to endorse harming oneself, but as it is also harmful to you to allow you to fade from existence," she said. "I will say that number 4. can be very helpful, as long as you are mindful and kind to yourself." She peered at her students over her lenses. "Remember that Symptoms dull the senses; what does not hurt badly then may be rather painful the next day." She shut her book, a puff of dust coming up from the pages like a little gray cloud. "Alright," she announced. "I've lectured you long enough. Your homework today is to practice one Grounding Technique of your choice whenever you are feeling overwhelmed, or anxious, or upset. And of course, attempt to try it if and when you experience any Symptoms. That's all," she said cheerfully as the grandfather toll rang out and students sprang from their seats. "Enjoy your Poe Cup. Extra credit goes to the winning team!"

Lyssa scribbled the Grounding Techniques into her notebook furiously, excitement and hope making her heart beat like it was anticipating something good. Ajax emptied the rest of his Goldfish carton into his mouth, watching her smile widen as she wrote and smeared purple ink with the rapid dashing of her hand. "I've never seen someone so excited about homework," he said through a mouthful of Goldfish.

"Me neither," she said. "I think 'cause this is less like homework and more like--" she stopped herself before she could say something stupid and sentimental. More like a prayer finally answered. "I don't know, it's just not like what I was used to, and I'm glad." She shoved her notebook into her bag, pocketing her pen, and took a deep breath, smiling probably rather maniacally at Ajax. "Ready for the Cup?"