The Loner and the Fairy

Woe is the Loneliest Number Pt 2

Wednesday POV:

Outside:

Wednesday: I like stabbing, but not so much the social part. Besides, it'll cut into my writing time.

Enid: No worries. You can be lakeside cheering us to victory on race day, or you can glare uncomfortably. Whatever works for you.

Wednesday: I've always hated the expression, "Write what you know." It's a hall pass for the imagination-impaired. But when your life becomes a twisted mystery... maybe it's time to lean into it. I considered whether I should put my flower as a character in my book. I'd change her name. She'd be a friend/sidekick.

Principals Office:

Wednesday: I need to speak with Rowan. I can't find him.

Professor Weems: It won't be possible, I'm afraid. He's been expelled.

Wednesday: For what?

Professor Weems: Never mind. He'll be on the first train out this afternoon. What were you doing out in the woods with him with Willow?

Wednesday: I told you already. I heard a noise, and I went to investigate. Willow followed me.

Professor Weems: That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can't fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn't you? I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident, and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck.

Professor Weems: Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable and dangerous. I remember that, at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them? You are the person withholding information here.

Wednesday: May I go now?

Professor Weems: Not until you've picked your extracurricular activity. We want our students to be well-rounded.

Wednesday: I prefer to remain sharp-edged.

Professor Weems: I took the liberty of putting together a list of clubs that have openings.

Wednesday: How thoughtful.

Professor Weems: You must have picked one by the end of the day. I'll be keeping my eye on you. You'll no doubt find something that tickles your fancy.

Wednesday: The last person who tickled me lost a finger. Weems is trying to keep tabs on me. Could you keep an eye on Rowan? Don't let your fingers out of his sight.

Outside:

We got scales on scales on scales. On scales on scales on scales

On scales on scales on scales.

Bianca: Weems said you'd be stopping by, but drama club might be more your speed after your performance at the Harvest Festival.

Wednesday: After I passed out, who did you tell? The sheriff?

Bianca: Do you think I'd trust ordinary cops? I went straight to Weems and let her handle it. Anyway, let's get this audition over with. What are you? Alto, soprano or just loco?

The coir got a laugh, but then I made a superior sound. Only dogs could hear it, and I broke one of their glasses.

Boy 1: Huh?

Bianca: What was that?

Wednesday: A note only dogs can hear.

After that performance, I left, deciding this wouldn't work out.

Here's a little song I wrote

You might want to sing it Note for note