"Off you trot, Maple." You dad called, ashes from his cigar falling onto the cracked pavement.

Maple. A nickname because when you were younger, you were afraid of maple leaves when the wind would blow, and they'd all swirl like a tornado. Videos shut down your small protests whenever the topic came to life.

His 1967 Jaguar E-Type sputtered to life and blew black smoke as he drove down the road, leaving you coughing slightly. You always wondered why he never got a new one. Ahead of you was Nevermore Academy. A school for outcasts. Not like nerdy people or people with no friends, but people with powers. Like Sirens, Furs, psychics, artists who came make their drawings come to life, shapeshifters, really anything.

You were one of them.

And your parents were also going through a rough divorce, so this was the only place you could go. Young. Alone. Fourteen, surrounded by the pools of adolescence. No way of contact. The Academy was large, a beautiful castle. Gorgeous lawns and a lot of space to hang around as you took notice of. But last year, some of it was burned down when one of the "teachers" brought an evil, early-century wizard back to destroy all the outcasts. That was taken care of. But it lingered.

Awkwardly, you made your way inside, taking note of the trophies won, old pictures, metal engravements, so and so. Pushing past the seas of students, you made it to the dorms, and when you pushed it open, you were met with two teenage girls. Older than you for sure.

One was bright and bubbly. Blonde hair and the tips dyed pink and blue, bright coloured clothing. And the other was.. dark. Black hair, black and grey uniform. It was like wearing one-half of colour-seeing glasses if you were only seeing in greyscale from how accurately they reflected each other.

"Great.." Wednesday sighed, "a child.." she looked away, her arms crossed. While Enid squealed and cooed, she bounced over to you and led you over to your side. A small corner of the room, a bunk bed with a plain desk underneath, and an empty bookshelf beside the bed. Internally, you sighed. But you didn't let anyone know you didn't want to be here.

"I'm Enid Sinclair!" The colourful girl bounced and smiled. She gestured to Wednesday, "And that little deathtrap over there is Wednesday Addams. She's always moody. You'll get used to it." She poked at the other playfully, getting a glare shot in her direction.

Even though everything felt cheerful and happy and maybe a tad bit exciting. You had a lingering feeling of dread. Something was off. Not with these two. They seemed nice enough. It was just... it felt like you were being watched. Not by Wednesday or Enid or even a passerbyer. But just...

Something.

Not someone.

Something.