¹wild nights, wild nights // x. thorpe

3. wednesday's twin is full of envy

suggested track: cake - melanie martinez

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

WHEN I was younger, my Grandmama used to tell my sister and me a sort of proverb that I never really understood, but never have forgotten: At the end of the day, all that matters is who stands at your grave when everyone else leaves.

It's stuck with me all this time, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps I'm in love with the idea of a bond so great, someone would still clutch to your headstone when everyone else has left the funeral. That someone would have to be dragged away before they even thought of leaving. I think that's it, or maybe the riddle behind it just tickles my brain.

I'm not sure, but whenever I recall that peculiar saying, I think of Wednesday. She always saw right through me, for better or worse, able to see when I was at my worst and snap me out of it. She hid her care behind a thick wall of contempt, but I knew. I always knew. She cared without saying a word, in her little actions, whether it was leaving me a dried wildflower or shoving me out of my comfort zone, which I clung to with my very life.

Something about the dynamic between my sister and me was troubling. I often wonder, if the opportunity arose, would Wednesday choose me over her ambition? Without a doubt, without a second thought, I'd pick her over anything. But Wednesday was more focused than I, more determined than anyone I'd ever met. So, a tiny, lonesome part of me didn't think she'd do the same, and I'd come to terms with that a long time ago.

It didn't matter, in the end, I suppose. Grandmama's sayings were always a bunch of nonsense, so I talked myself into thinking that one was too. Wednesday was my sister, and I loved her, and I accepted her for what she was, and that was a reluctant, dreary, dying star on the verge of explosion.

Easy acceptance wasn't an easy skill, I knew that from simple observation of my peers. That was one thing I could pride myself in: my ability to accept defeat without a fight.

Funny thing, this defeat was all I could think about whilst waiting for my sister to arrive at Nevermore. So I settled for the distraction of kicking a pebble around as I wandered the corridors, having nothing but boredom on my mind with that day's classes over and my friends scattered all over the school.

Normally I would search for Carmilla, but she was busy with West Conman, this harpy guy she's got the hots for. I had some dirt on him, some dirt that would make Carmilla disgusted she ever laid eyes on him. A few weeks ago, when he and his girlfriend were still going steady, I caught him in the shadows of the school library with someone who was definitely not his girlfriend. Not even a few days later, they broke up, and they're on too good of terms to mean she knew of his cheating.

I knew I could tell Carmilla--I knew I should tell her, but... West made her happy, and what were the odds he actually liked her back? The odds weren't high. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

After a while my wandering took me to the front gates, where I leaned against the outer wall and waited for when that old fashioned car would come rumbling onto campus. Thirty minutes passed, maybe more, before Wednesday finally arrived. That first sight of the car had a jolt of excitement coursing through me.

A smile sprang onto my face, seeing the sleek black car pulling into the paved roundabout. I was bouncing on my toes, barely able to wait for the vehicle to come to a complete stop. Then, it parked, and the doors opened. Mother stepped out, my first sight of her being her elegant ebony heels. Then Father's stout figure, and Pugsley's scant smile, and finally, last but not least, Wednesday appeared, looking as dreadful as ever.