Chapter Text
*Enid's POV
“Sinclair?”
“Yes?” Enid answered.
“You’ve got mail,” the voice on the other end of the door replied.
Enid’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Enid rolled out of bed. She’d been sleeping in every day this week, and fortunately the Camp Moonstone staff didn’t seem to care, since most of the camp’s important activities occurred between late evening and midnight. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she meandered drowsily toward the cabin’s front door. Yikes, it was already dark. She’d slept all day.
To be a cabin, the accomidations at the camp were relatively comfortable. There were windows, an air conditioner, a bathroom, and full-sized beds with privacy canopies. Camp Moonstone catered to the well-off set of young werewolves whose parents couldn’t be bothered by, or couldn’t tolerate, their children over the summer break from whatever boarding school they attended during the school year. Nevermore wasn’t the only school for Outcasts in the country. In fact, it was one of the smaller ones. Prestigious, sure, but unattainable and inconvienent for most. Enid was the only Nevermore student at Camp Moonstone this year, as far as she could tell.
“Thanks,” Enid said. She accepted the package and an envelope from the camp counselor. They’d obviously gone through the box and taped it back. The envelope received the same treatment. “You know it’s a federal crime to open someone’s mail, right?” she joked.
“Your parents gave us strict instructions to keep a close eye on you,” the counselor said, not understanding that Enid was joking. He was a werewolf in his late 20’s, decent looking, but he didn’t seem all that bright. “Checking your correspondence is necessary to protect you from yourself.”
“What did my Mom tell you about me, really? How did she spin it? Am I suicidal? Violent? Did I wear white after Labor Day?”
The counselor’s eyes darted up to Enid’s scars, and then away quickly, as if they burned his eyes. “I’m doing my job. Your parents are just looking out for you.”
“Sure,” Enid said. “Thanks,” she said again, holding up the package. She’d realized soon after arriving at camp that trying to talk to the staff was a waste of time. Most of them were teachers at Outcast schools during the school year who went to Camp Moonstone to work for the summer.
“Of course.” He rushed back down the path toward the main building, retreating away from both Enid and her battle scars.
Enid retreated to the small square table her roommates usually used to play board games and do each other’s nails. She pushed away a long-abandoned Monopoly game to make room for the package.
It was from Wednesday. Enid didn’t recognize the return address, but she recognized Wednesday’s handwriting and knew they lived somewhere in New Jersey. Her eyes widened. What would Wednesday be sending her? How did Wednesday know where she was at all? Enid didn’t get the opportunity to tell her anything when her mother sprung the whole spontaneous camp situation on her. Enid ripped into the letter first.
Happy Birthday, friend. Enclosed is a gift. I wish to know if it is to your liking. Please examine the gift closely, and reply via handwritten letter to inform me of your satisfaction.
Respectfully,
Wednesday.
P.S. No, the fur is not real.
Enid carefully reached into the cardboard box, unsure what macabre surprise she’d pull out. “It’s nice of her to send me something, but my birthday was in April,” Enid whispered to herself. Her cabin mates, three other werewolf girls, were chatting around the nightly bonfire out in the center of the camp. She could hear them intermittently howling at the moon, or laughing particularly loudly. She could also smell the warm smoky fire still burning. Her nose was unpleasantly sensitive since she’d gained access to her inner wolf.
Enid’s hands closed around soft fabric in the box. Yuck, Wednesday sent her taxidermy. She shuddered with ick, but nevertheless persisted in retrieving the item. To Enid’s pleasant surprise, it was a never-alive stuffed dog. A very nice one, actually. It was cream colored, with careful hand stitching. Enid was relieved Wednesday informed her the fur on the dog was in fact, not real, because it was very, very soft and Enid would have suspected Wednesday skinned a mink herself to get the material. Enid was floored that Wednesday sent her a handmade gift, but not surprised that it was masterfully made. Who knew taxidermy skills also assisted with toymaking? Maybe Wednesday had a calling as a stuffed animal seamstress.
The gift subtly smelled of rich vanilla, coffee, ink and paper. Wednesday’s distinctive scent. Enid loved the gift immediately, but it was unusually heavy. She probed around the animal, trying to feel if there was a weight or beads inside. She felt two hard and flat objects. Enid carefully examined the seams around the belly of the animal and discovered a very well-concealed, ultra-thin zipper along one seam. “The plot thickens,” she muttered. Nothing was ever simple with Wednesday involved. She pulled the delicate zipper carefully, hoping she hadn’t somehow angered the girl enough for Wednesday to mail her an explosive.
There was an iPhone in a sparkly pink case inside the secret pouch. Enid shot to her feet. The hard wooden chair she sat in clattered to the floor behind her. It was everything she had not to unsheathe her claws in excitement. She was a prisoner who just found a file baked inside her cake. Wednesday was brilliant. Of course Wednesday knew Enid’s mother confiscated her phone, and that the camp counselors would absolutely be looking through her mail and packages. Wednesday’s ever-present paranoia paid off.
Enid quickly threw a furtive glance over her shoulder. Her cabin was still empty. Her summer roommates were perfectly fine, but they didn’t seem to like Enid very much. She didn’t blame them. They had already been friends for three summers. The only reason the fourth member of their summer posse wasn’t there was because, apparently, she was pregnant. The bed was empty; Enid filled it. The camp counselors also made sure to tell the other residents of her cabin that she was ‘emotionally fragile’. Enid felt this was untrue, but she thought trying to explain herself to the girls wouldn’t do her any good. Usually a social creature, Enid knew she’d been withdrawn and reserved during her time at Camp Moonstone. She was in her lonely and depressed era. Rip.
Enid also couldn’t dare tell her roommates that she received a secret cell phone from her psychotic best friend, from inside a stuffed dog’s ass. They already thought she was nuts. Plus, they might nark her out. Several campers smuggled their phones and computers in, of course, but they weren’t supposed to have them. One of the main draws from a parent’s perspective of Camp Moonstone is that it promised an ‘unplugged’ experience. Enid reached into the dog again, and pulled out a charging cord and a power bank with a solar panel and a . . . handle? No, it was a hand crank, like on an emergency radio. Along with the secret gifts, there was a second letter, written on the Addams family letterhead in Wednesday’s sharp cursive scrawl.
Enid,
I must maintain communication with you, as we are now connected for eternity by friendship, unfortunately. I attempted to contact you last week and was informed by your dreadful mother that you went to summer camp. I discovered your location via internet investigation, after your mother refused to inform me of your whereabouts. I recently discovered that the internet is a delightfully dark place. Did you know there are 25 Lycan camps in the United States? I reviewed their social media pages, and I found a picture of you. Therefore, I am confident this is your location. How long will you be imprisoned in this camp? Do you need assistance? I can send a car for you, if you wish. I am unsure what type of torture they are putting you through at this Camp Moonstone, but if it is not to your liking, I can put a stop to it through any necessary means.
Due to your incessant need to ask me inconsequential questions, I know you are interested in my current state of affairs. My parents are currently in Alabama for the week, partaking in blood rituals with the Alabama football team. Nick Saban is a dear family friend. My brother Pugsley has grown taller than me. He insists on spending an insufferable amount of time playing video games on his new xBox. My family has recently embraced technology, it seems. Quite tragic. Eugene plans on visiting after my parents return, and I hope he occupies my brother once he arrives. As much as it pains me to admit, I am looking forward to his presence. Pugsley will be attending Nevermore next term, and I expect he and Eugene will become allies, as they share several annoying characteristics.
Personally, I have been unable fully devote myself to my pursuits due the mystery of your location. Now that I know where you are, I plan to read several books and learn how to best protect oneself from tracking and data breaches while using the Internet. I do not wish to be tracked while using the web, however it seems leaving zero trail is impossible in the digital world. I still do not plan on engaging with social media, but I find some aspects of the medium as fascinating as it is disturbing. Thing pesters me to download an application called Snap Chat, but I still do not see the merits in it.
I hope my insistence on learning of your location is not taken as an unwelcome attention. Unfortunately for the both of us, due to our friendship, you are now subject to my surveillance. Please use the cellular phone to contact me immediately, as well as responding to me via post. I am unsure if you currently have access to electricity, as it did not state affirmatively or negatively on the website for Camp Moonstone. The enclosed power bank has a solar panel and a hand crank for emergency power generation. The cellular service is linked to my family’s cell phone plan and cannot be traced by your parents. My phone number, along with several others which you may find useful, are saved in the address book. Let me know if you would like any other contacts and I can attempt to retrieve them for you.
Pay attention to the following parameters for correspondence. Please print your letter if you do not have enough cellular signal to contact me with the cellular phone. Otherwise, write in cursive, as is your natural handwriting. If you do not have cellular service and you are in distress and would like to be extracted from this dreadful camp, reply to my letter with blue ink. If all is well, reply in black ink.
Finally, I am aware that it is not your birthday. Expect a more appropriate gift for your true birthday. I am unsure what to prepare for such occasion, but I am positive you can point me in the correct direction, at the appropriate time. I look forward to your prompt response. There is self-addressed postage included here.
Unyieldingly yours,
Wednesday.
Enid tried to remember when her picture was taken since she’d come to camp, but couldn’t recall. Wednesday covered all the basics- phone service, a power bank, and adding contacts. The only phone number Enid knew by heart was 911. As far as power, the cabin had two outlets- one to be shared in the main room and one in the bathroom. Her roommates were usually using all the plugs for lamps and fans and curling irons, and even if they weren’t, she couldn’t be caught charging a phone out in the open. If Enid had a tail, it would have wagged as she powered up the device. Enid needed to take advantage of her roommate’s absence and contact Wednesday ‘immediately’. She could write the reply letter later.
She found Wednesday in the address book and began drafting a text to her. Enid noticed Wednesday had also programmed in Eugene, Yoko, Ajax, Bianca, Davina, Xavier, and Thing into the address book. Enid giggled at the thought of Thing having his own iPhone. Or was Thing was an Android kinda guy?
Enid tried to answer all of Wednesday’s questions in her text, which read more like a letter by the end of it. She tried to stay away from abbreviations and newer slang, since Wednesday likely wouldn’t enjoy it. The thought of making her peruse Urban Dictionary to decode what Enid said was tempting, though.
Enid, 8:25 PM:
WEDNESDAY I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME A PHONE I was going insane without one. I’m ok, this stupid camp is irritating but it’s better than being at home with my Mom right now, so I don’t think I need immediate salvation. I’m sorry if she was rude to you. She wanted to try and set me up on a bunch of blind dates this summer and when I refused to do it, she shipped me off to camp. She’s trying to set me up with a “good werewolf mate” or whatever. Lots of werewolves have arranged marriages, but I’m totally not into the whole thing. Having your parents pick your future husband is sick and disgusting. Who wants to sleep with someone their PARENTS picked out? It gives me the ick. I’m dating Ajax anyway, I guess. I haven’t heard from him since I got stuck out here. I hope he doesn’t think I dropped dead or something.
I have to stay here at least until mid July. I thought about trying to get kicked out, but like you said, there are 24 more lycan camps my Mom can send me to if I get kicked out here. Where did you find a picture of me? I haven’t posed for any since I got to camp.
As far as the ‘torture’ here, it could be worse. Usually I’m left alone. I made a lumpy mug yesterday in the craft room. It’s a bummer being here without any of my own music. My roommates keep playing John Mayer ☹ and he’s so gross. The camp has a lake that’s nice to swim in. We also have to run laps around the camp at night. I haven’t been here for a full moon yet, so I’ll keep you posted on whatever happens then. The lycan cages here are pretty big. The pamphlets say we don’t have to go in them for the full moon, but it is ‘highly recommended’ which means that it’s probably not really optional. I don’t like the idea of being locked in a cage like a fucking animal, but the counselors keep telling me I’m ‘volatile’ since I’m so newly in tune with the whole wolf thing. Maybe they’re right, idk.
Thank you for the Wednesday update, I’ve been wondering what you were up to. I’ve been worried about you too. Tyler is technically still on the run, but my Mom found out that the rumor is that his dad found him buck naked foaming at the mouth like he had rabies in the woods and pulled strings to put him in the same insane asylum they sent his mom too, so there’s a good chance he’s somewhere flailing around in a padded room.
My Mom sent me here with a ton of makeup to cover up my scars because she’s worried werewolf boys won’t be interested in me if I’m damaged goods. The other campers are making up all kinds of rumors about me. It’s hella funny. This week I am involved with a seedy brothel, and these are my ‘working girl’ scars. My parents send me here for camp to curb my rampant sex addiction. Last week I was cut up in gang brawl lmfao
I miss Eugene too, even if his bugs are creepy. He sent a bunch of honey to my house after our semester was cut short. I don’t like honey at all, but it was a nice thing to do. Your brother’s name is Pugsley? Is that like, his real first name?
What books are you going to read? I don’t know anything about data security other than how to put my socials on private.
PLEASE download Snapchat. It’s fun! Does Thing have his own Snapchat?
Thank you for being worried about me. Please, keep as many tabs on me as you want. I like it. If you download Snapchat I can turn my location on for you, so you can see where I am on the Snap map. There are other ways to track people’s phones, but the Snap map is pretty easy to navigate.
I don’t need anything for my birthday. Your company will make me happy enough. I can’t wait to be your roommate again!
Affectionately,
Enid
P.S.: I really love the stuffed dog. I’m naming him Biscuit, like the kid’s books.
Enid antagonized over the sign off at the end of the message, but it felt appropriate. More causal than ‘unyieldingly yours’ anyway. She did have a lot of affection for Wednesday, and honestly she was trying to play it cool with the message. In truth, she had been beside herself with worry over Wednesday. It startled her, actually, how badly she wanted to leave the Camp on foot and trek the thousands of miles to Wednesday. Tyler was confined somewhere padded and secure, Enid just knew he was, call it a wolf sixth-sense. Or seventh or eighth sense. Enid had been far too in tune with her body since she’d accessed her wolf abilities. Sometimes it was painful, like when the wake-up call blew through the camp’s speakers every morning, or when someone smelled particularly offensive to her, but other times it was helpful. She had night vision now, so that was fun. Enid didn’t think Wednesday was particularly unsafe in the Addams mansion, but she was far away and the newly active wolf inside Enid was very uncomfortable with the distance.
After a deep breath, Enid hit ‘send’.
A moment later, the dots at the bottom of the screen started to flash. Wednesday replied almost immediately. Enid waited, holding her breath, for a reply.
Wednesday, 8:35 PM:
I will download this Snap chat if it provides a simple means of keeping track of you. I am pleased to see you have phone service in your current ring of Hell. Thing said his username is ThatCoolThing, whatever that means to you. Let me know if you change your mind about escaping, and I will retrieve you as quickly as practicable.
I agree that it is sinister for your parents to arrange your romantic encounters. Pleased to know that you are not engaging with such nonsense. I further agree that John Mayer is mediocre at best. How are they listening to this insipid music? Perhaps I can send you a more appropriate record to play instead. The family library holds thousands.
I suspect you are more powerful than many of your peers. My research has led me to believe that is an anomaly for any werewolf to be able to match strength with another shifting monster. Therefore, you are the superior apex predator. Simply do not do what you do not wish to do; they cannot make you spend the night in a cage like a lab rat by force.
Yes, his first name is Pugsley, unfortunately.
I will read The Art of War (again) and Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke. I ordered them online. I do not suggest you read Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke, as it is likely somewhat disturbing to an unseasoned reader. Would you like a book to read? Or perhaps some of those silly little magazines you rot your brain with?
I have recently been informed by Eugene that text messages do not need a sign off, so I will not leave one. However, I appreciate your attempted formality in replying to my letter. You cannot name the dog Biscuit because I have already deemed him Hermes, as he is my messenger.
Camp Moonstone’s Instagram page posted several pictures of their facilities. I discovered the back of your hand in a picture of the craft room. That is how I knew you were there.
The back of her hand? Jesus, Wednesday was observant. She was also eager to help her? Wednesday valued their friendship much more than Enid thought.
A superior apex predator, Enid mused to herself, playing it back in her head a few times, imagining it in Wednesday’s voice. Every time she heard it, she felt something warm swell bigger and bigger in her chest. From Wednesday, that was beautiful compliment. And, she was right in a mathematical sense. They made Enid complete a physical exam before she was officially accepted to Camp Moonstone as a camper. She scored very high on all the measured metrics. Her strength, speed, sense of smell, etc., were far above average. The weirdo old-guy doctor who tested her explained it was probably a delayed power release, and that her abilities were ‘cooking’ longer than others before presenting and should eventually equal out to average levels. Enid knew it was a straight up lie. There was something the doctor wasn’t telling her, based on the his antsy movements and the sweat she could smell from under his clothes. Enid decided she didn’t particularly care what the doctor was or wasn’t telling her. What did it matter? If she was dying or something, she’d figure it out eventually.
At first, her mother Esther was proud to have such a powerful wolf in the family. Then, she quickly realized that the power would make it more difficult to control Enid’s behavior, and Enid was already the black sheep of the family before she wolfed-out. Her mother was even more-so disappointed when her scars didn’t heal quickly like most injuries did on werewolves. There were two hypothesis as to why: either that wounds inflicted by a Hyde are permanent, or Enid’s healing powers hadn’t kicked in fully yet when she was injured.
Enid read Wednesday’s text again. Wednesday was being uncharacteristically helpful by offering to send her things. Enid was very hesitant to take her up on the offer, but she would have killed for a Taylor Swift CD. All the campers were given a personal CD player by the counselors on the first day of camp, probably to keep them from going totally nuts. There was also a CD player and a speaker for the cabin to share. Enid didn’t bring any CDs because she didn’t own any. Who the fuck still bought CDs?
Enid also remembered the more popular girl in her cabin, a girl from Colorado named Britannica, begged her parents for weeks to send her magazines. It might be a good idea to curry her favor a bit. Enid couldn’t imagine Wednesday walking into a grocery store or a Barnes and Noble and buying teeny-bopper mags, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? Wednesday would have offered if she didn’t mean it.
Enid typed out a reply, reading it several times over and feeling a pang of guilt at her requests before hitting the send button.
Enid, 9:00 PM: I hate to ask, but it would be great to have a few CDs and maybe some magazines, pretty please? We don’t have a record player ☹. A copy of Teen Vogue and a copy of J-14 would be super helpful. I’d also love a book. I’m super bored. Are you sure you don’t mind? My Mom packed for me and she didn’t send anything fun. I can get packages whenever at the camp, but the counselors do go through our mail.
Wednesday, 9:01 PM: Of course, consider it done. I will mail you another package tomorrow. You deserve to be occupied at the very least. The agony of boredom is something I do not wish upon you. Do you require anything else?
Enid, 9:01 PM: Not right now. Thank you!!!!!!
Enid downloaded and logged into her Snapchat. Enid was thankful she wiped all the data from her old phone when she handed it off to her Mom at the beginning of the summer. Enid had two new friend requests: one from Thing and one from ChildOfWoe, who she assumed was Wednesday based on the ominous screenname. Enid shared her location with Wednesday, and only Wednesday. Wednesday’s location was also on the Snap map for her to see.
Enid had about a hundred un-opened snapchats, but she only cared about one. It was from Wednesday.
Wednesday: You can message here too. What is the purpose of multiple messaging mediums?
Enid: Snapchat is mostly for pictures. You can send them and then they go away after a minute. It’s less permanent than texting pictures.
Wednesday sent her a picture. It was a selfie. She had taken a picture of half her face, from the bridge of her nose up, with her front-facing camera. It was so painfully cute, Enid realized. She felt an immediate wash of relief wash over her at seeing even half of Wednesday’s face. It released a tension she didn’t realize she’d been holding in her shoulders since they parted ways at Nevermore. Enid resisted the urge to screenshot the selfie. She missed the Wednesday, and her longing to see her came from somewhere deep and visceral in Enid’s chest. Enid could feel Wednesday’s absence on her skin, in the beat of her heart, in the marrow of her bones. Enid wondered if that was what true friendship felt like. No, she decided. Friendship is a comfortable connection with another person. What she felt for Wednesday was a pathetically primordial response that she couldn’t really control, kind of like the werewolf inside her. Disturbingly, she noted that she didn’t feel that way about Ajax.
Enid took a picture of half her own face, mirroring Wednesday’s attempt at a selfie, with one eyebrow arched. She typed out a quick caption “See? It’s easy for pictures.”
Wednesday: Send a better image. I wish to confirm that you are well.
Enid almost dropped the phone. Her face flushed with hot blush. Why did Wednesday want to see her? To confirm she was well? What the hell did that even mean?
After another quick sniff over her shoulder to confirm her roommates were still far away, Enid went to the bathroom and took selfie in the bathroom mirror. She smiled and made a peace sign with her fingers. Enid admitted that she didn’t look particularly ‘well’. Her eyes were puffy, since she’d cried several times that week and overslept every day. Her hair was a bit longer and faded, her dark roots clear as day. She wore a sad gray shirt and black shorts, not her normally fun pastels or neons. She didn’t feel like being herself lately.
Enid’s cheeks were still hot with blush, but she also recovering from a nasty sunburn so it wasn’t very noticeable. Camp Moonstone was located somewhere in Utah. Where specifically, Enid wasn’t sure. She was so ready to get away from her mother, she would have flown to Antarctica if she had to. Painfully Enid remembered how she’d told her mother the past school year that she would never be going to a lycan camp. That was before she’d wolfed-out, though, and before her mother went on a tirade about finding her an ‘appropriate mate’ as soon as possible. The regular summer werewolf programs weren’t like the conversion camps. They were annoying, sure, but they were just summer camp for werewolves whose family could afford it. Nothing more, nothing less. Enid wasn’t sure how her parents afforded the fee to send her to camp, but she knew it wasn’t cheap. Camp Moonstone was def on the rustic side, but it was also relatively comfortable and somewhat progressive. It was co-ed, for starters, and they only put 4 people to a cabin, with an in-cabin bathroom. A lot of the other camps didn’t even have indoor plumbing.
Enid shook away her nervousness and send Wednesday the picture. She then got a notification informing her Wednesday had screenshotted it. She assumed it was a mistake, since Wednesday was probably still learning how to use the app.
Wednesday sent her a text. It was a copy of the picture she’d taken a picture of on Snapchat.
Wednesday, 9:30 PM: I do not understand the Snap chat. I can still capture the pictures for posterity.
Enid, 9:31 PM: Lol most people don’t screenshot Snapchats. Why did you?
Wednesday 9:32 PM: I prefer text messaging. You can send me pictures here.
Enid noticed her question was ignored, but she didn’t press it.
Enid 9:33 PM: Whatever you like, Wednesday.
Wednesday 9:34 PM: Do not fall into the habit of appeasing me, Enid. Give me an inch and I will take a hundred miles.
Enid smiled, secretly hoping Wednesday did just that.
Unfortunately, she caught the scent of cucumber melon body wash tinged with smoke, which signified that of one of her roommates on their way back to the cabin. She quickly typed out another text to Wednesday:
Enid 9:35 PM: TTYL, my roommates are coming back and they can’t know I have a phone now. Good night! And thank you again!
With love,
Enid.
As she stowed her silenced phone and the power bank safely in the locked chest at the end of her bed, Enid felt more alive than she had in weeks. Speaking with Wednesday comforted her. For the first time since arriving at the camp, Enid slept right through the night.