Note:
I'm dead. They sent Jaylen Brown, demi-god 6'5 FMVP to Philly. Their rival. I'm devastated. I feel cucked. This shit is insane. I'm crying, this is like Luka all over again. I'm dead.
What the actual fuck were the GM's thinking. They sent him for a washed podcaster who choked 3/4 of the game after hitting 5 threes in 1 quarter. And for a can pringles and a bag of doritos.
I hope Lebron goes to the 76ers and bust the Boston Celtics' ass. Holy shit I feel tears forming. I need 2 whole days to recover from this bullshittery.
The whole Lakers roster looks like a K*K executive board. Full on vanilla on vanilla. Fuck you Adam Silver, fuck you Rob Pelinka, and I love you Lebron.
Now read.
—-
The silence of the ride was broken only by the constantly buzzing sound of the radio. Where every few meters or so, the frequency malfunctioned—changing channels from songs to podcasts and back to songs again. Neither of the two did anything about it, for any noise was better than this awkward, suffocating silence.
The trees outside passed by in a blur. The green, lightened by the rising sun to the east. For all its worth, the sunrise looked more beautiful after a cold night. Especially one spent inside a jail cell.
Larissa glanced at the boy from time to time. Eyes flickering between the road to his somber, expecting eyes. Her mind, unable to withstand the lack of conversation, began to conjure what little she could to elevate the dismal ambience.
A few seconds passed after she made her decision. A few seconds of an old song she turned off before she spoke. "How are you?" She finally asked.
Adam, hearing her words, perked up. His head turned to her, his eyes glinting with surprise. He gripped his knees slightly, his gloves crunching the dirt hidden between their tiny creases. "I'm alright." He replied.
"I see. Good." Larissa replied with a relieved sigh. The pressure of her feet on the pedal lessened, and the speed of the car slightly reduced. "I was worried when I received the sheriff's call last night. I thought something bad had happened to you, that you did something bad."
Her words struck Adam's chest like stakes to a vampire. His conscience pressed down on his mood, as he felt worms crawling on his stomach—guilt given form. "I'm sorry." He replied sincerely.
Larissa's hands on the steering wheel tightened. A reflection of her turmoil as a frown began to form on her face. "What were you thinking digging up a dead man's grave?"
Adam's head hung low, his eyes dropped. He pressed his palms together in a prayer, the gravity of what he did reigning like sin. "I was helping a friend." He said weakly.
"Nevertheless, a grave is sacred." Adam flinched at her words. "Couldn't you have at least thought about it? There are countless ways that it could've gone worse."
Larissa's eyes softened for a brief moment, but the weight of the situation quickly hardened her face again. She guided the car along a bend in the road, the morning light casting long shadows of the trees across the windshield. "The Gates were— were a powerful family, Adam. Even if they're all dead, all of Jericho is still tainted by their influence. I had to pull a few strings to keep it under the rug."
Silence hovered once more, broken only by the faint static of the radio. Adam shifted in his seat. His voice came out small, almost a whisper. "I'll think better next time. I promise."
Larissa exhaled slowly, her hands loosening on the steering wheel. "I'm not angry, Adam. I just— I expected better… above everyone else, from you."
Adam nodded, the weight of her words pressing on his shoulder. He kept his gaze straight, to the outside, to the dashboard, anywhere but facing those disappointed blue eyes. For a moment, he considered saying more— an excuse, a better explanation, but the words caught in his throat.
Regret is a hell he does not walk on. Given the circumstances, he would do it all again. Regardless, her disappointment is a scar he could not undo.
"But," Larissa spoke again, "at the same time— I cannot deny the spark of pride I feel. Kindness is a value I never want you to let go."
Larissa glanced at him, her eyes softening despite her prior words. Adam's eyes made contact, and perhaps, took it as a signal that this particular conversation is over.
The radio hit a clear station then, a low, gentle tune that filled the car like a hymn. Larissa allowed herself to focus on the road, letting the music carry what words could not. The sun had fully breached the horizon now, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, but the grays of the clouds masked its fullest potential.
After a long stretch of quiet, Adam finally spoke again. "It was nightshade." That word acted as a catalyst inside Larissa, who, in surprise, stirred too hard, almost crashing the car.
"What nightshade?" She asked, her eyes snapping to Adam with intensity. The boy, equally baffled as she, replied. "Garret's death. It was by nightshade." Her eyes widened, pupils shrinking as if faced with a bright light.
Larissa didn't answer right away. Instead, she kept her eyes ahead, the shadows of the trees flickering over her face. "I see… I see." She kept muttering. Anyone would take her mumbling for temporary insanity. Yet Adam, for all the times he'd known her, could see the oozing relief flowing like a river in her being.
He saw, for a moment, Larissa binding free of whatever was crushing her.
—-
Time felt slower behind the cold bars of metal. Like repetitions of unending quietness, silence where the sound of your heartbeat rang louder than crickets and nightlife. Adam felt as though he had spent more hours in it than the 6 which the clock told.
Perception, however, is simply the product of the world in collaboration with one's imagination. The clock on Nevermore's wall does not lie. Only 6 hours passed, and he had not slept a wink. He will not.
Parent's Week still went on. The halls were not filled with groups of friends, but of parents and children. Adam walked by the yard towards his room's building. Passing by fellow students and parents; and teachers.
The hallway buzzed with soft murmur, the occasional squeak of shoes against the polished linoleum echoing down the corridor. The way to his room is but a turn away. Before he could, however, a familiar voice called out to him.
"Adam!" A feminine voice shouted. He turned behind his back, a face radiating its usual bubbly aura greeted him. "Woah, where have you been?" Enid's mouth curled to an 'o' as she looked at him.
Adam paused, unsure of what to say. Enid beat him to it before he could speak. "Your hair's totally messed up, Addy. You totally need a makeover."
Addy? He asked himself, who's Addy?
Enid, sensing his confusion, clarified what she said. "Oh! Addy is just a nickname I made up. You know, since we're friends. I give one to everyone! Like Wendsy for Wednesday, or sometimes Aj for Ajax! I mean, if you don't like it, I can just call you Adam!"
Adam nodded in understanding. A nickname. From a friend. He felt… flattered. "It's fine, Enid." He replied, "You just… took me by surprise."
"Oh, I see! I thought you minded, Wendsy doesn't really like hers. But I think she's starting to warm up to it!" Enid points a finger at Adam, "But I am serious, you need-need that makeover, Addy."
Adam tilted his head slightly, pinching a strand of his hair. The dry, patchy texture was apparent to him. "Is it that bad?" He asked.
"Bad, very bad!" Enid exclaimed, "If you don't start taking care of your hair, you'd go bald early. Have you seen my dad?!"
The image of the said man popped up in Adam's head. Enid's father, a quiet, stoic… balding man. "I have." Adam replied.
"Yeah, don't wanna be like that so early now." Enid said with a bright chuckle, "I know exactly the perfect person for the job."
—-
There is a first for many things. An inevitable event when you live in a dynamic world. A child's first time standing, walking, speaking. Mundane ones— first day at school, first taste of a cheesecake, first… makeover.
Adam stood in front of an unfamiliar wooden door in an unfamiliar hallway. Ophelia's Hall, to be exact. The walls were filled with pictures of past batches, past dorm mothers. Along, of course, with Poe Cup trophies, academic achievements of students, and such. It was… a new sight.
He gathered himself, then he knocked. 3 taps of his knuckles stopped the rummaging noise inside. It stilled, then he could hear footsteps going away before a voice yelled. "Come in!"
He twisted the knob, pushing the door open slightly, enough for the scent of strawberry to reach his senses. Adam stepped in, the web-like window, split in two, catching his attention immediately.
The right side of the room is filled with colors, dominated by pink, but was mixed with all pastels and bright. The left part is… a stark contrast of the other. An area radiating all the gloom in the world. Wednesday's side, he thought. Obvious conclusion.
His eyes finally landed on her, Enid, her hand to her hips, gloved in latex, beaming with enthusiasm. Her uniform is gone, replaced by a pink sweater under an even brighter pink apron. "Are you ready!?" She asked.
Adam hesitated at the doorway, questioning himself if going back was an option. Behind the smell of strawberry is something else— chemical. His eyes darted to the set of plastic bottles behind Enid. Hair products.
Enid clapped her hands together with a grin, the latex gloves snapping slightly. "First rule of a proper makeover: trust the process! Now, sit." She gestured to a chair dragged to the center of her vividly decorated side.
Obediently, Adam moved forward and sat onto the seat. The pastel explosion around him was almost blinding compared to the gray walls he had grown used to. He caught his reflection in a small vanity mirror—the sides of his mask were cut, enough for his hair to flow, not enough to expose anything else.
"Don't worry," Enid began, circling him like an excited artist sizing up a blank canvas. "I'm practically an expert at this! Who do you think fixes my hair? Just gotta get the right… idea."
Adam watched as Enid surveyed him like an experiment. A guinea pig in a lab. A painter sizing up her canvas. She hummed, snapping her fingers rhythmically. "Okay, I know what to do."
Enid pulled out a spray bottle, misting his hair with practiced efficiency. Cold droplets trailed down his neck. "I'm giving you a totally new look!" Adam gave a small chuckle despite himself, the first sign of ease in hours.
Enid grabbed a pair of scissors. She measured a handful of strands and then—cut. The sound of scissors clicking filled the room. Enid darted in all directions while Adam sat still, as still as he possibly could.
"There! That's better already. Now, conditioner, and maybe a little styling gel… oh, don't worry, I've done this a million times. My brothers were hopeless. Werewolves aren't really famous for self-care and all that."
As she worked, Adam felt the tension of the day— or last night— begin to ebb. The soft hum of her chatter, the faint music drifting from a small speaker, and the rhythmic touch of her hands slowly pulled him into a fragile calm.
He thought of his time in jail, of Larissa's disappointment and pride. He thought about Garret Gates, about Wednesday and her predicament; and his decision not to follow them earlier. He felt, in this room of strawberry scent and pastel colors, relaxed.
That is, until a familiar latex hand waved him awake. "Hellooo, Adam to Earth?" Enid's face popped up as soon as he opened his eyes. Her pale blue iris greeted him to the world. "Finally! I thought you fell asleep." She said with a chuckle.
"I zoned out." Adam replied, "Is it done?"
Enid shook her head. "Nuh-uh, still gotta soak it with water and then I'm gonna massage your scalp with treatment. Then we're done."
How complicated, he thought. Enid went away before he could reply, coming back holding a bowl in her hand from the bathroom. He felt her adjusting his seat so he could lie down, feeling some wetness in his hair a few seconds later.
Enid began washing his hair. He could feel her fingers running through his scalp gently. Suddenly, as if intrigued, she spoke. "You know, Addy. I never really asked before, but what's with the mask?"
Adam froze at the question, the soothing sensation of Enid's fingers momentarily turning into a reminder of his secret. He hesitated, eyes fixed on the ceiling, where wooden beams stayed. The rhythm of her fingers slowed, waiting for an answer.
"It's… complicated," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Enid tilted her head, curiosity bright in her eyes, but she didn't push. Instead, she gave a small nod. "Complicated is okay. You don't have to explain." Her hands resumed their gentle massage, letting the moment stretch without pressure.
"But I got another question!" She followed, "What kind of Outcast are you? It's not just me that's curious, even the others wanted to ask. They just never did. We tried guessing, but we really couldn't come up with one that fits. I mean, you're obviously not a werewolf, or a gorgon, or a siren, or a faceless."
(I think dwarves/leprechauns exist in Nevermore, I saw one behind Wednesday in one scene. Or maybe just a really short person, idk.)
Adam, once again, froze. What had he and Larissa said again? A vampire? A shape-shifter? A psychic? He had completely forgotten, or maybe they never made something up. Quickly, his mind began to work. He thought of Outcasts that appeared like normal humans.
"A Djinn…" he replied. A djinn, seriously.
Enid's hands paused, Adam felt the awkwardness in the room palpitating. How could he not come up with a better lie?
Adam peeked at the vanity mirror. Enid crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at his lie. "You're lying."
"No." Adam replied a beat too fast.
"You absolutely are!" Enid said with a raised voice.
"I'm not." Adam defended himself advertently, fully committing to what he answered.
"You pulled that out of your ass!" Enid clapped back. Adam, new to the expression, didn't know what to say. "I didn't pull anything."
Enid huffed, feigning an expression of anger. Her hands went back to his hair. "Fine, don't tell me." She said, Adam felt a sense of mischief in her tone. With a quiet whisper, she said, "It's not my fault if you get a bald spot…"
"I heard that." Adam said in panic.
"Heard what?" Enid asked innocently. Adam gently pushed her hands away. "You said you'd give me a bald spot."
"I didn't say anything." Enid defended, clicking her tongue. "Stay still, you wouldn't want me to mess up."
Their banter went on a few more times. Lighthearted jokes, a warm tone. Adam, for the first time in a while, felt normal. A normal boy conversing with his friend. A normal human.
The soft hum of the blow dryer soon followed, blending with Enid's light humming. She combed his hair, styling it in the way she saw fit. He let her. Adam watched, noticing the focus in her eyes.
"Ta-da! Finally done!" Enid announced with her arms wide open. His reflection looked a tad bit unfamiliar. Better, he thought, lighter.
"Thank you, Enid." Adam said sincerely, his amber eyes connecting with her doe-blue. "It… looks good."
Enid crossed her arms, her head held high in pride. "Of course, you're not the only magical djinn here." Her tone was laced in light sarcasm, taking a laugh out of Adam.
"You still don't believe me?" He asked confidently. Enid huffed again. "Okay, Mr. Djinn."
Adam stared at her for a moment, letting the memory sink in. Soaking in this place, archiving every word they've ever uttered in this little space. It's sad, he thought, that this happy memory is about to end.
But all things must come to an end. The passage of time declared so. All things that start must end. One can't help but want to stretch it. To extend it for another second, minute, another hour.
Enid began collecting her stuff. Putting her hair products back to their bathroom, her scissors to their bags. "Do you need help?" Adam asked.
She shook her head with a shy smile. "Nope, I got this. Just wait, I got… something to say."
Adam tilted her head but did not ask any further. He sat still for some minutes, Enid was done before 2 passed. She stretched her arms up, tilting her torso to each side, letting out a sigh before flopping to her bed.
Then she snapped up, hands to her knees and a deep breath in her lungs. "Okay. Okay." She said as she steeled her face. "Do you remember when you found me on the 2nd floor sulking?"
"Yesterday, yes." Adam nodded.
Enid nodded as well, more to herself than him. "My mom proposed sending me to a wolf camp. For late bloomers, like me. So I could finally wolf-out."
Adam listened, the weight of Enid's words settling between them like dust in an empty room. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "Is that… what you want?" he asked carefully.
Enid's lips trembled, a brief flash of uncertainty crossing her bright features. "I… don't know. Part of me wants to impress my mom and finally, you know, live up to her expectations. But another part of me…" She hugged a plushie to her chest. "Another part of me just wants to be myself. Even if that means I'm never going to 'wolf-out.'"
Adam nodded slowly, taking in her words. Enid sighed with tremors, her sclera reddening from building tears. He realized this… 'makeover' was for her as much as it was to help him.
"I decided, I'll be doing things my term. I won't go," Enid said weakly, almost whisper-like, "but I'm scared. What if I'm wrong and never wolf-out?"
Expectations possess no tangible body, yet weighs like a mountain when pressed on your shoulder. But, expectations only possess that weight because we give it power to do so. "What if you choose to go and you never do anyway?"
Enid's eyes met his, a flicker of surprise and dread sparking in them. "Then that would mean I was wrong either way..."
He smiled faintly under his mask, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes, and it would mean that you were brave enough to make your own choice."
Enid's hands stilled on the plushie, her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. Her breathing slowed as she absorbed those words. "Brave enough to make my own choice…" she repeated softly, as if testing the shape of them in her mouth.
Adam nodded. "Either of the options presented to you are guaranteed." His amber eyes drifted toward the window, where sunlight painted the floor with web-like shadows. "Choose what you want. It's both a leap of faith."
Enid sniffled, the corners of her lips twitching into a small smile. "You sound like… Wendsy, but less depressing."
Adam chuckled quietly, the sound light but sincere. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The room seemed warmer then, and quieter in a way that wasn't suffocating. Outside, faint sounds of Parent's Week celebrations drifted—laughter, footsteps, and distant music—but in this little bubble, time stretched for a while.
Until…
"What are two doing?"
—-