“What is your kind doing here?” an irritating voice called from behind.
Wednesday turned to find three boys in Pilgrim costumes standing a few feet away, their smug expressions making it obvious they hadn’t approached for a friendly conversation.
She looked them over from head to toe.
“Why are you wearing clown outfits?”
The tallest one frowned.
“These are Pilgrim costumes.”
“I fail to see the distinction.”
The two beside him snickered while the tallest one’s expression hardened.
“I thought outcasts knew better than to wander into town alone.”
“I was under the impression this establishment served coffee, not unsolicited opinions.”
One of them stepped forward.
“Maybe you should head back to your freak school before you scare away the customers.”
Oliver didn’t spare the argument a second glance.
He wasn’t in the mood.
Jericho and Nevermore students had been at each other’s throats for years, and inserting himself would accomplish nothing except making him another target.
He had enough problems without volunteering for someone else’s.
Wednesday picked up her cup.
“My presence isn’t what’s lowering the average intelligence in this room.”
The tallest boy slammed a hand on the counter.
“You think you’re funny?”
“No. I think you’re tedious.”
“You outcasts really don’t know when you’re not wanted.”
Wednesday took an unhurried sip of her espresso.
“I’ve found that people who proudly dress as Pilgrims rarely have anything original to say. Centuries pass, yet the dialogue remains remarkably unchanged.”
The boy leaned closer.
“You got something else to say?”
His face flushed.
“Teach her a lesson.”
All three lunged simultaneously.
Wednesday didn’t flinch.
The first swung at her — she sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and sent him into a nearby table.
The second rushed in before the first had even landed — she drove an elbow into his ribs and swept his legs out.
He hit the floor with a groan.
The third hesitated for a fraction of a second, which was long enough.
He charged anyway.
She caught his wrist, twisted just enough to break his balance, and shoved him backward into his friends.
All three lay sprawled across the café floor.
Oliver watched the entire exchange while absentmindedly wiping the counter.
Without looking up, he let out a yawn.
“Customers aren’t supposed to make a mess. Please stop fighting.”
Nobody paid him any attention, and he didn’t appear particularly motivated to enforce it.
The café door swung open.
Sheriff Galpin stepped inside, gaze immediately settling on the overturned chairs and the three boys groaning on the floor.
“Would someone like to explain what’s going on here?”
Lucas immediately stepped away from Wednesday.
“It wasn’t—”
“Lucas.” Galpin cut him off.
“Are you causing trouble again? Your father won’t be too pleased if I have to call him.”
The mention of the mayor was enough.
Lucas’s confidence evaporated.
He glanced at his friends, muttered “Let’s go,” and the three of them hurried out.
Galpin turned toward Wednesday.
“You’re from Nevermore, aren’t you?”
Before she could answer, the café door opened again.
“Wednesday Addams.”
Principal Weems entered, her composure making her irritation all the more obvious. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Behind the counter, Oliver immediately dropped below the edge until he was completely out of sight.
Please don’t notice me.
If she sees me here, I’m in considerably more trouble than Wednesday.
Weems stopped in front of Wednesday.
“I leave you alone for less than an hour and you’ve already found yourself in another incident.”
“I was buying coffee,” Wednesday replied evenly.
Galpin studied her for a moment.
“Addams… any relation to Gomez Addams?”
“He is my father.”
A knowing smile crossed his face.
“That explains a lot. Your father was the prime suspect in a homicide case back when he was at Nevermore. Never could prove it, but I’ve always had my suspicions.”
Wednesday’s expression remained unchanged.
“In my experience, the only thing my father is guilty of is singing in the shower. Badly.”
Galpin wasn’t amused.
“Maybe. But Nevermore students have a habit of finding trouble in this town. I intend to make sure you’re not one of them.”
He held her gaze.
“I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you while you’re in Jericho.”
“I find surveillance to be the sincerest form of flattery, Sheriff. Do your worst.”
Galpin studied her for another moment before walking out without another word.
The bell above the door chimed as he left.
Weems waited until he was gone before turning back to Wednesday with the particular expression of someone who has long since run out of patience but has no choice but to continue.
“The car. Now.”
Wednesday set her empty espresso cup on the counter and walked toward the door without any particular hurry, as though the last ten minutes had been a minor inconvenience.
Oliver slowly rose from behind the counter and watched them leave.
He exhaled quietly.
That had been close.