The sky over Forks was the color of an unwashed tombstone.
Mother said the perpetual rain would be "good for my skin tone." I disagreed. The only thing I wanted from this miserable town was silence— the kind you find in graveyards at midnight.
I left Nevermore Academy with a small suitcase, a collection of venom jars, and one taxidermy raven. Principal Weems called it "transfer by choice." I called it banishment by committee.
My father, Gomez Addams, waved enthusiastically as the police cruiser drove me away. He shouted something about "new adventures." I don't consider rain and boredom an adventure.
The town was smaller than I imagined. Damp, green, and depressingly alive.
The sign that read Welcome to Forks might as well have said Abandon Hope, All Who Enter Here.
Uncle Fester's words echoed in my head:
"You'll fit right in, Wednesday. Everyone there looks half-dead already."
He wasn't wrong.
Charlie Swan, my so-called guardian, met me outside the station. Funny they think 1 person will be able to hold me down. He was quiet, which I appreciated. I prefer silence; it keeps the screams of others audible. Apparently his daughter was supposed to be here but stayed with her mom. Lucky her.
His house was… quaint. A taxidermist's dream. I could already see where I might hang a few bats. He tried to make conversation about the weather.
I simply told him, "Rain reminds me of the tears of the damned."
He nodded, pretending to understand.
He mentioned my new school, Forks High. I said nothing. New social experiments don't excite me— unless blood or fire is involved.
Jacob Black was leaning over the hood of an old red truck when I looked outside, the kind of vehicle that looked like it had survived multiple apocalypses and was offended to still exist.
He straightened when he saw me. His smile was immediate, bright, and entirely unprepared for me.
"You must be Wednesday." he said. "Charlie said you were visiting."
"Temporarily." I replied. "Like a curse."
He blinked. "Uh. Cool."
I studied the truck. "This contraption runs on hope and desperation?"
He laughed, the sound warm and too alive for the damp air. "Yeah, she's old. But she's got personality. Like you, I guess."
"Machines don't have personality." I said. "They have flaws. Which people misinterpret as charm."
Jacob grinned wider. "Charlie said you were funny."
"That was inaccurate."
He hesitated, then motioned to the truck. "Want to sit inside? You can try the steering. It's a little stiff, but—"
"No."
He froze. "…Okay."
I softened only slightly. "I prefer to observe mechanisms before trusting them."
"Oh. Yeah. Makes sense." He leaned against the door, arms crossed. "So, you liking Forks so far?"
"No."
Another laugh escaped him. He seemed unable to stop smiling, as if my bleakness was a pleasant novelty. "At least you're honest."
"Lying wastes energy." I said. "I'm conserving mine."
He nodded, then tilted his head, studying me with surprising perceptiveness. "You don't look like you're uncomfortable here."
"I'm always uncomfortable." I said. "I've simply learned to weaponize it."
Jacob blinked again. "Weaponize… discomfort?"
"It's more effective than you'd expect."
He rubbed the back of his neck, both amused and confused. "Okay. So what do you do for fun, Wednesday?"
"Dissect things. Emotionally or literally."
He stared for three full seconds before realizing I wasn't joking.
"Wow. You're… different."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't—" He stopped, then laughed. "Actually, yeah. It was a compliment."
A faint breeze stirred, carrying the scent of pine, salt, and something feral beneath it—like a heartbeat echoing from the woods.
Jacob's expression shifted, something instinctive flickering behind his eyes. Protective. Guarded. As if some unseen instinct had pricked his nerves.
"You should be careful around here." he said. "There are stories… old ones."
"I like old stories." I replied. "They tend to be more honest than the living."
He smiled again, but this time it was gentler. "If you ever want to hear them, I can tell you. Some are scary."
"Good." I said. "I don't like stories that end well."
Jacob grinned. "I think we'll get along."
"I think you're overly optimistic."
"Maybe," he admitted. "but that's kind of my thing."
As I turned to leave, he called after me. "Hey! Wednesday?"
I paused.
"If you ever need help with anything… I'm around."
I studied him for a moment. He was all warmth and sunlight wrapped in flannel.
"I'll keep that in mind." I said. "If only for scientific comparison."
He laughed again, and the sound followed me down the path like a trail of human warmth I had no intention of stepping in.
The next morning, I wore black. Obviously. The only thing darker than my outfit was my mood. Students stared as I entered, like a wounded animal entering a zoo.
One boy smiled at me. I stared back until he looked away. Eye contact is a duel most mortals lose.
Classes were dull. The dissection lab was closed "due to sanitation issues," which nearly sent me into despair. That was one of, if not not the only thing I was looking forward to.
Lunch came. I guess you could say I was curious to see what kind of food they'd have here. I got something simple, a baloney sandwich. I sat down at a table with some people from my class. They found me.. interesting.
I didn't feel like wasting time to look for another seat so, why not. Then, I saw them.
Five of them. All too perfect, too pale, like marble statues pretending to be human.
They didn't eat. They didn't speak to anyone besides themselves. They didn't even blink properly. Finally, people who understood social decay. No one else seemed to notice their weird behavior besides the fact that they don't eat.
One of them caught my eye— tall, unsettlingly beautiful, and frowning like he'd smelled formaldehyde.
Someone at my table whispered his name: Edward Cullen.
When his gaze met mine, I felt… nothing.
Which was strange, because I usually feel nothing, but this was an entirely new category of nothing.. an elegant void, wrapped in brooding mystery. I left it at that, although I couldn't ignore the curiousity in the back of my mind.
After lunch, we were paired in Biology.
He looked as if he wanted to murder me— which, admittedly, was the most flattering attention I'd received in weeks.
The fan on the desk blew my scent toward him, and he recoiled. Most people do that after I start talking, but I hadn't yet. Interesting.
We didn't speak the entire class. He glared; I sketched the skeletal system of a fruit bat. Every now and then I'd peak over, only to see him still trying not inhale my scent. I knew it was strange, I made sure I didn't smell like the dead that day.
The tension was exquisite— like being in a room with a cobra that refuses to strike.
He vanished the moment the bell rang, moving too fast to be normal. I watched him go, intrigued. There was something unnatural about Edward Cullen — something beautifully wrong.
And in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt a strange flicker of interest.
Not romantic— I'm not that sentimental.
But if he wasn't human, I needed to know what he was. Right now, he seems inhuman. But I need some proof. I've been around all different types of things, I can tell what's human and what's pretending to be.
orks might not be so boring after all.
If the rain didn't kill me, perhaps he would.
And that, at least, would be interesting.