Wenclair - a New Term at Nevermore

Chapter 93

(Time skip to Thursday 14 February because to be honest the time inbetween would be pretty uneventful.)

The plans ground into action like wheels on a train track. Students half-dressed in undone bowties and still-drying nail polish flocked about the sports hall, carrying tables, draping pink fairy lights on the walls, and defending the platters of tiny sandwiches and cupcakes from legions of pupils and teachers alike. At the helm was Divina, standing (contrary to the advice of all the teachers present) on a stack of plastic chairs and yelling instructions so loudly and frequently that she would have no voice left to speak to Bianca later.

The Bianca in question was helping with the fairy lights, trying to ignore the students that stared and whispered, passing along the story of the previous Sunday - how Bianca had burst into the fencing competition and won the trophy using a ceremonial sword. Bianca had given up explaining that no, she had not participated in the competition, having turned up at eleven-thirty in the Nevermore office accompanied by a band of miserable sirens, and given an honourary fencing award after explaining why she was carrying a ceremonial sword. Although, Bianca suspected that Wednesday didn't mind having the attention diverted away from her victory.

Wednesday and Enid, or so Divina told Bianca, were now girlfriends, and were both absent from the preparations, although Wednesday had contributed effort in the form of an unnaturally tall chap who had introduced himself as Lurch, but didn't seem to be able to say much more, preferring to assist in the furniture arrangement with the precision of a perfectionist.

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Lara checked her appearance in the mirror. Short hair, almost silvery in the harsh bathroom light, a slightly odd dress from the Nevermore lost-and-found, and a set of childrens' plastic jewellery she had been given as a funny form of charity by some of the students in the same dorm hall as her. Lara's two roommates, Jean and Livvy, were not attending whatever this dance was, but Lara had been asked by a giggling Year 9 and thought it bad etiquette not to accept an offer from her (dubiously) generous hosts. She sighed and began to walk to the sports hall, feeling as nervous as she'd felt stepping off the train to a small reception (led by, curiously, not a member of staff but a student, whom Lara took to be Bianca's girlfriend) that walked with them up to the imposing grey gates of the school.

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Warren was certain, as the train chugged on by, that upon the hills right on the horizon he spied that infamous school - what was it again, Everton? No, that couldn't be right. Never mind. - spiderwebbing across the landscape in a cluster of dark buildings that looked just perfect for that perpetually-overcast atmosphere of a horror film.

Speaking of which, the train was moving into worse and worse weather. It was not bad weather in the sense that one might be pelted by rain or bombarded by snow the moment one left the house (or, rather, train), but the sort that produced a sense of unease and discomfort thick enough to cut with a knife. Everyone at the train station, although it was a fairly local affair, kept their eyes to the grimy brick floors and their feet to them too, walking quickly and with purpose insofar as that purpose would be to leave.

Even the taxi was more awkward than it ought to have been. When Warren said to the driver, "to Jericho, please.", they lost the optimistic grimace on their face and scowled, as though the very expression would be sharp enough to carve the taxi a path through the thick grey mist.

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Inspo pictures! (1890s ball dresses):

(For more information on historical dress, Bernadette Banner, Morgan Cox or J. Draper on Youtube are great sources.)

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Despite Enid's insistence, Wednesday had a deep aversion to appearing at the dance in the same fashion that she had the Rave'N. For one thing, a hundred pairs of human eyes trained upon Wednesday had quite dispelled the pleasant chill of the night, and for another, she once more stuck out like a sore thumb, having firmly boycotted the nauseatingly pink dress code.

And so the pair arrived at the sports hall, draped in pink, pink and yet more pink, just in time to blend in with the crowds; Wednesday had planned to arrive well in time to blend in, but Enid had apparently never dressed in 1890s garb and needed detailed instruction called through the bathroom door on how to use a button-hook on boots and how to put on gloves properly.

But at last they made it into the swarming crowd of teenagers, and while it was perfectly obvious that people found the choice of dress strange, Wednesday judged that they were hardly in a place to comment, dressed up in inadequate skirts and scruffy suits, and so ignored the staring she had always been accustomed to. Enid, however, seemed to mind being looked at with such judgmental gazes, so Wednesday made sure to keep hold of her hand to make sure she didn't feel alone.

Over in the corner the Nightshades had gathered, so Wednesday decided to join Eugene in making a beeline for the group. Similarly to the Rave'N, Divina wore a suit and Bianca a sparkly dress. Kent and Ajax, too, were clearly attending together as well, but Yoko appeared to be particularly trying to distance themself from a miserable-looking Xavier. As Wednesday and Enid got closer, their words were audible: "Xavier and I are going as friends, you absolute idiots!"

Eugene chimed in with a cheeky grin on his face, "It's a valentines' dance. If you didn't want to go as partners you could have just gone alone like me!"

"Watch your mouth, honourary Nightshade!", shouted Yoko, and Xavier, who had been looking momentarily hopeful, had the happiness wiped off his face.

"Lovely talk.", interrupted Bianca. "Am I doing the speech?"

All seemed to generally agree, so Bianca walked up to the podium and turned the music down. The crowd was silenced in anticipation.

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"Here's the hotel."

"Alright, thanks sir."

Warren stood on the pavement, listening to the sound of the taxi dim to silence, except for the occasional chirrup of a cricket or buzz of a faulty streetlamp.  His family were really starting to accumulate in this boring little town, mused Warren, as he wandered into the hotel to find the receptionist snoring. The painting of Joseph Crackstone on the wall reminded him that they had good reason to be.