Wednesday hated everyone. Just about everyone, at least. Everyone at Nevermore seemed to be a liar and have tricks up their sleeves, and there was nothing more Wednesday hated than a liar. She occasionally imagined herself going over to them and putting snakes in their mouth to get them to hush.

To her, they were all the same, but she was okay with you. She wouldn’t dare admit it to your face, but she liked the way your eyes looked in the moonlight, the way you liked death as she did.