Chapter Text
“Well,” Wednesday says, in a tone of vague boredom, “Are you going to do it or not?”
“I don’t know ,” Enid hisses at her. “And also, how did you even get in here?”
Wednesday doesn’t deign to respond to that. She sits down cross-legged on the floor, folds her hands in her lap, and continues to look expectantly at Enid. In the middle of the werewolf cages. On a full moon.
“Wednesday.”
“Yes, Enid.”
“Go away.”
“No.”
“ Wednesday.”
Her roommate doesn’t even twitch. “Enid.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
“You’ll be in so much trouble if anyone finds you in here.”
“They won’t find me.”
“How do you know?”
“You won’t tell them.”
“I will so tell them.”
“You won’t,” Wednesday says with an air of infuriating certainty. “Because I’ll make it worth your while not to.”
Enid glares. Wednesday gazes back at her steadily. She gives in, grumpily.
“How.”
“With this,” Wednesday says, and flips the clasp of her bag open.
Enid’s mouth falls open. “Oh my God. Is that-?“
“It is,” Wednesday says grimly. “The DVD box set of all three High School Musical films.”
Enid can only stare, stunned.
I will,” Wednesday continues, pausing for emphasis to make sure Enid understands the gravity of the situation, “watch them with you. All three.”
“Oh my God,” Enid says again. “Can your body, like - handle that? Are you gonna be okay?”
Wednesday looks like a noble young French revolutionary facing the guillotine. She probably practices that expression in the mirror. “I may not survive,” she says mournfully. “However, I am willing to make this, the greatest of sacrifices, in the name of science.”
“That’s very brave of you,” Enid says sarcastically.
“Thank you,” Wednesday says, self-satisfied, and flips the bag closed once more. “So. Are you going to do it?”
Enid stares at the bag for a long moment and then shakes herself out of it. “I - no! You can’t - you can’t try to bribe me into letting you stay in here! And I don’t know if I’m going to do it! Definitely not while you’re in here with me, you lunatic!”
“I’m not trying to bribe you. I am successfully bribing you. And if your concern is for my physical well-being, please rest assured that I am perfectly safe.”
“Oh, thank God,” Enid says helplessly. “Did you bring mistletoe?”
Wednesday opens her mouth to respond and then blinks. “No. Does that work?”
“I - yes. Kind of. Wait, what else do you have?”
Her roommate compresses her mouth into a thin line and cocks her head a degree to the side, staring at a point past Enid’s shoulder. This is a well-known expression; she is reconsidering something. Enid is so relieved to see it that she almost doesn’t process it when after a moment Wednesday says, a little defensively, “Well, I was fine last time.”
Enid buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God,” she says. “Last time there was a giant crazy monster to fight. I was busy last time. What is wrong with you, Wednesday.”
Wednesday doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “It depends on who you ask,” she says, “and anyway I don’t have the time to go through Doctor Kinbott’s whole list right now. We’re on a schedule, Enid.”
“We are not,” Enid says slowly, “on a schedule. We are not on anything. You are going away, and minding your own business. I am wolfing out peacefully on my own, without worrying about absolutely murdering my friend.”
“There are bonus features on the DVDs.”
“I don’t even know if my laptop has a DVD player in it.”
A moment of silence.
“Enid, you are making this so difficult.”
At this point, one of the chaperones happens to walk by, and Enid gets to watch her roommate be dragged out of the werewolf cages by an irate professor, looking like she swallowed a lemon. It is vaguely satisfying.
She doesn’t actually wolf out. Which is fine. Really.
It does, at least, get her off of Wednesday’s shit list, because she shows up in their room at two in the morning, probably looking pathetic, and Wednesday, reading in bed, looks over the top of her book to say something that will probably be very biting and witty. Enid cuts her off.
“I didn’t even do it.”
Wednesday purses her lips and lays her book down on the covers. Enid can practically see her swallowing whatever she was about to say. “I see,” she says instead, carefully neutral.
“Some people don’t. Every month, I mean.”
“I see.”
“It’s fine. I’m just kind of irregular. That happens to lots of people.”
“Mhm.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“And my mom will probably freak out about it, but it’s literally not even a problem, because I have an aunt who only does it like once a year, and -”
“Enid.”
“What?”
“You’re upset.”
Enid blinks. “Yes?”
Wednesday stares at her. Apparently, she did not have a follow-up for that statement.
Enid goes to bed.