The Institute

Part 2

                   The new principal had arrived as soon as the latter's funeral was over. Wednesday hadn't been seen skateboarding down the halls, or vandalising things, or causing any unnecessary havoc ever since he died. She finally had to be brought out on the day of the introduction of their new principal, Miss Lacroix.

Only a day after the melancholy ceremony, she arrived and asked for an address in the grand auditorium. Everyone forced themselves in, several still shaken after Mr DuRaney's untimely death, which meant not much talking from most, but there was still a soft din of talking children.

After everyone had quieted, Wednesday sauntered in, her beanie low, and her jacket that was usually (against school rules) around her waist, was now being loosely worn, her frame had gotten consistently smaller, and the jacket hung off her limbs, her eyes remained looking down at her feet as she shuffled to her seat amongst her friends. Eyes watched her as she finally sat down. The school knew she was probably the most emotionally affected person by this, but no one dared confront her.

Fynn looked over at her, and she resembled a wandering spirit. Her pale, skinny arms hung at her sides as she picked her already damaged cuticles. Her eyes remained looking down at her arms. She slid up her sleeve and peered at the pink slits along her arms. She almost immediately covered them up, before she wiped at her eyes, a tear daring to fall. 

His heart wrenched at her abominable state. Deep down he knew he should've been taking care of her, been there for her, he should've talked to her, cooked for her, the list could go on forever. 

"Stop staring at me," she said, her voice barely over a raspy mumble.

"What? Oh.. Um sorry I did- didn't mean to-"

Wednesday met his eyes, a false smile creeping up her cheeks "I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

He almost broke as she uttered those words, she was anything but okay, and he knew it. She was normally loud and rambunctious. 

"Wednesday, you can talk to me. I don't like when you're like this. You're far away from me and I want you back! Please don't act like you're okay when you aren't-"

"Please!" she whispered, "Not now. Not here," she managed before the sound of rhythmic click-clacking of heels on the wooden floor of the stage. 

All speech quieted, and all eyes looked toward the stage. 

Click... Clack... Click... Clack...

A tall woman finally appeared on the stage. She was stocky and slim, a boysenberry and black pantsuit framing her petite figure, matching her black heels. Her dark ebony skin highlighted the golden chain around her neck, a small locket on the chain. Her coily hair was cropped short, and close to her skull.

She finally faced forward at the podium, and the students got the chance to embrace her amazing features. The dress cut low into her cleavage, the locket teasingly hanging between her breasts. Her amber eyes surveyed the crowd, a smug smirk playing on her face like a mad scientist preparing to conduct her first dastard experiment.

"Good Morning students, my name is Madame Lacroix," she said through a thick French accent, "and I will be your new principal for this academic year."

Her eyes, however beautiful, looked cold, void of emotion, and heartless. She looked down at us like animals in a pen, "I won't be changing much, just having a few extra and mandatory classes at the end of each day, held in here. Today we will exercise some new rules as well."

"Oh joy," Wednesday muttered.

"During holidays, no one will be allowed to leave the premises. There will be no more outside connections, all devices will be confiscated as of today. Each and every student will be branded as of today, we have already set up a booth for the branding to take place as each of you leave this auditorium. A tracking device has been placed in each and every one of your uniform crests. And there will be no way to get these crests off."