She's an Agent of Chaos, I'm a Softie

c. 4: Necromancy

  The day was here. Finally.

  Granted, it was only a few days ago that Martin had suggested she take up private lycan lessons with him, but that felt like an eternity to Enid’s ecstatic mind. Ever since the letter miraculously appeared on her bedside table, Enid was unable to take her mind off it, and it certainly showed. Just ask Divina and Yoko, who had been subject to a few days’ worth of Enid’s incessant fawning. Sometimes, Enid wondered how they hadn’t snapped and given into insanity—perhaps they had built a tolerance after a while. Whatever their mental state, they suffered through it, displaying an iron tolerance that would impress even the likes of Wednesday.

  Speaking of the ill-tempered goth, she had been acting strange the past few days, even for her standards. Ever since their surprise confrontation with Tyler in the woods, and the subsequent revelation that they had been played by her ambiguous stalker, Wednesday had been obsessing over their identity, determined to uncover it. Because Wednesday was competitive, second to no-one, so when she was beat, she doubled down. It was just as admirable as it was concerning, but Enid had given up on getting her to dial it down; Wednesday was in deep, and there was no prying her out when she was like that. So, Enid relented, allowing Wednesday to continue without fuss, though she kept a watchful eye on her just in case.

  Aside from that oddity, things had been great. Classes, whilst mostly as dull as always, had at least been refreshing; she had come to miss having a schedule over the break. Days felt linear when she was at home, and not because Enid had freedom—quite the opposite. Whenever Enid woke up, there was one question on her mind: what mental gymnastics will my mother subject me to today? Because, whilst the psychological abuse was always guaranteed, what aspect of Enid her mother would critique was never certain.

  It had been fine at first, her mother had even said she was “proud” of her for coming out of her shell, referring to her transformation on the blood moon, but that hadn’t lasted long. When the next full moon came, Enid had failed to transform. She didn’t understand, and as if the disappointment wasn’t already bad enough, Esther fucking Sinclair was quick to let Enid know how much of a fuck-up she was, hence the barrage of daily insults directed at every one of her insecurities. Most days, Enid hid away, not accepting food—a subtle way of punishing herself. Of course, this only gave her mother more ammo. “You’re so skinny—do you even try, dear?”

  Enid grunted, shaking her head as if to dispel her mother’s voice from her mind. Not now, this is my day—I’m not letting you ruin this! She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Deeper…deeper. Let it all out…there.

  Plastering a smile on her face, Enid continued forwards, unable to hide her excitement. Giddiness came naturally to her, and it had taken a begrudging yell from Wednesday at midnight for Enid to realise just how elated (and, consequently, loud) she was being. Sometimes Enid wondered how Wednesday got any sleep with her around. She likely didn’t at all. Perhaps she enjoyed the deprivation, something about her perpetually tired complexion driving that idea home.

  Though, fortunately—or unfortunately—for Wednesday, Enid would be absent tonight, meaning the pale girl might finally get some sleep, free from her roommate’s persistent chatting that spanned long into the night. Enid even considered staying at Yoko’s for the night so that Wednesday could get a few hours of extra sleep, but that would be a gamble, the probability of Divina already being there being too much to chance. I’m sorry, Wednesday. Still, a slightly less tired Wednesday meant a slightly less violent Wednesday. Strangely enough, however, Enid was unsure whether that was a good thing or not, for she couldn’t help but admire the girl’s assertiveness. Stupid head making me think these stupid things—why’ve you got to be such a clutz all the time, Enid?!