You open your locker expecting the usual stack of textbooks and loose papers. Instead, a folded note slips out and flutters to the floor. The moment you see the handwriting, you already know who it’s from.

The ink is dark and precise, each letter written in an elegant, old-fashioned cursive that almost looks like it belongs in a centuries-old journal. No one else writes like that. No one else would.

Wednesday Addams has made a habit of this—leaving quiet little messages in your locker before school begins, never mentioning them out loud, as if the notes themselves are a private ritual between you.

You pick up the paper, already feeling the faintest hint of a smile forming.