Wednesday would never expect his life to be like his parent. He would even bet on it. Guess he spoke too soon when she walk in his view, pooled in red blood and a nervous smile. Emotions over emotions of something he never felt just washed over him...
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Gary Granger, the camp director, blew a sharp whistle, his overly enthusiastic grin plastered across his tanned, clean-shaven face. He had the build of a former college athlete—broad shoulders, firm jawline, and a look that screamed "gung-ho."
Dressed in a khaki camp uniform, complete with a whistle around his neck and socks pulled up too high, he was the embodiment of forced excitement. Beside him stood his wife, Becky Morton Granger, equally energetic but in a far more exaggerated way.
Her brown hair was pulled into an impossibly tight ponytail, her teeth flashing in a bright, near-blinding smile that looked almost too wide for her face. She wore a matching khaki outfit, with camp patches sewn on in a way that made it appear more like a costume than functional clothing.
"Alright, everyone, attention! Listen up! I'm Gary Granger!" he announced, voice loud and commanding. "And I'm Becky Morton Granger!" she chimed in, with a voice that was so chirpy it could shatter glass.
The two struck a ridiculous pose side by side as if trying to mimic a superhero team from a bad cartoon, but it ended up more like a failed knockoff of Team Rocket from Pokémon. Gary raised his arm dramatically while Becky gave a little salute, both of them grinning maniacally.
"We're the owners and directors here at Camp Chippewa, America's foremost facility for privileged young adults!" Gary declared, his voice booming. "And we're all here to learn, grow, and just plain have fun!" Becky added, with a giggle that made Adriana's skin crawl.
"Because that's what being privileged is all about!" they chimed together as if they had rehearsed it a hundred times before.
Adriana let out a long, exasperated sigh, feeling a headache brewing as the two overly peppy adults continued their performance. Her eyes darted to Wednesday, who was standing beside her, tall and clad in his usual black attire. His black hair now slicked back and perfectly in place, only added to his air of morbid sophistication. She wondered if he was as irritated as she was.
"Wednesday?" she murmured quietly, her eyes squinting in the bright sun as she looked at him. "Are you feeling this?"
Wednesday didn't respond immediately, but instead raised an old, clear bottle to his lips. It was an antique glass bottle, labeled in bold letters: POISON, complete with a skull and crossbones. His pale complexion remained unchanged, his dark eyes glaring with disdain at the surrounding campers. "Want some?" he asked dryly, holding the bottle out to her without breaking his gaze from the crowd.
Adriana chuckled, shaking her head. "You think I'm letting my blush fade away? I'm not going pale and ghostly anytime soon."
"Suit yourself," Wednesday muttered, taking another slow gulp from the bottle, the last drop sliding down his throat. His expression remained neutral, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a hint of satisfaction.
Adriana scanned the crowd of people, trying to convince herself to see the situation in a positive light. It was mostly for her father's sake, so he wouldn't feel so guilty for leaving her behind. As her gaze drifted over the sea of faces, she noticed a boy around Pugsley's age staring at her intently.
He was dressed in a neat, preppy outfit that looked like it had been picked out by his mother—probably ironed too. And judging by the way his parents stood behind him, bickering with loud hand movements, she already had a good idea of the type of person he was.
With a knowing smile, Adriana raised her hand and gave the boy a sweet wave.
His reaction was instant—his face flushed a deep red, and he began to stammer awkwardly, clearly caught off guard by her attention. The sight sent him into a flustered panic, and his mother, noticing his sudden distress, leaned down to check on him. "Joel! Is the heat getting to you?" she exclaimed, her voice full of concern as she fanned him.
Wednesday had been observing the whole interaction, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he focused on this Joel kid. He didn't see him as much of a threat, not yet anyway, but that didn't stop him from subtly pressing a little more weight on Adriana's shoulder as if to remind her of his presence.
Without a word, he steered them closer to Gomez, Morticia, and Tom, never taking his dark, calculating gaze off the flustered boy.
As the camp ceremony wound down, parents began gathering their things, preparing for the inevitable farewells. Tom, standing close to Adriana, glanced down at his daughter with concern etched on his face. He reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of her hair back, his eyes softening.
"Are you sure you're comfortable with all this?" he asked, his voice low, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation. He always hated leaving her in unfamiliar places, and this camp—well, it wasn't exactly ordinary.
Adriana gave him a reassuring smile, though her heart was heavy knowing how much he worried. "I'm fine, Dad. Really," she said softly, resting her hand on his arm. She wasn't going to guilt trip him despite hating being sent here. "You don't need to feel guilty about leaving me here. Besides, it might even be... fun." She wasn't entirely convinced of her own words, but she could see the relief in his eyes.
Meanwhile, the Addams family was having quite a different kind of farewell. Morticia, her figure impossibly elegant in a black, form-fitting gown that seemed inappropriate for the outdoors, placed a hand on Gomez's shoulder with a calm smile. "It sounds like our children will thrive here, darling," she mused, her voice a silky purr. She glanced at Wednesday, her dark eyes full of affection. "Just remember to keep the body count low, my dear."
Wednesday, his face unreadable, responded in his usual deadpan tone. "No promises." His gaze lingered on the campers, especially Joel, who was still recovering from his earlier embarrassment.
Gomez clapped his hands together, beaming with pride. "That's my son!"
Tom shot a sidelong glance at the Addams family, still not entirely used to their unique charm, but he offered a polite nod to Gomez. "Well, I trust they'll all have... an interesting time," he said, his voice carefully neutral.
Gomez let out a booming laugh. "Indeed! And don't you worry, Tom! My boys will make sure Adriana feels right at home. Nothing like a bit of friendly chaos to bring people together!" He winked at Adriana, who couldn't help but smile at his exuberance.
Morticia gave Adriana a once-over, her voice calm and soothing. "You'll do just fine, dear. If you ever need anything... unconventional, Wednesday is always resourceful." She glanced at her son with a knowing smile.
Adriana chuckled, her nerves easing slightly with the warmth of their odd but welcoming energy. She turned back to her father. "I'll be alright, Dad. Seriously."
Tom sighed, giving her one last hug. "Alright, alright. But if anyone gives you trouble—"
"I'll handle it," Adriana finished for him with a grin. "Go on, you'll miss your work."
Reluctantly, Tom pulled away, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer before he gave her a final nod. "Take care, Adriana. I'll see you soon." And with that, he turned and joined the other parents heading toward their cars.
As the cars drove off one by one, the camp seemed quieter, save for the distant chatter of campers and the faint rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Wednesday stood beside Adriana, as still and unbothered as ever, while Pugsley gleefully fiddled with what looked suspiciously like a slingshot.
Gomez and Morticia gave their children a final wave, Gomez blowing a dramatic kiss into the air. "Farewell, my champions! You too Adriana! Make us proud!" he called out, before turning with a flourish. Morticia simply smiled, her hand resting elegantly on Gomez's arm as they disappeared toward their car.
