Bianca
The Rave’n was proving less productive than Wednesday had hoped, in terms of intelligence-gathering. If Thing hadn’t meddled, she’d be heading into the woods with Eugene right now, likely finding something useful at the cave. But no, apparently she was stuck here having to act as if she were interested in cultivating a personal relationship with one of her townie sources. Ugh. She couldn’t afford to just dismiss him, either, not with his father being the incompetent and obviously-unprofessional sheriff whose cooperation she required in order to apprehend the monster in the woods.
She was gauging the relative efficacy of pulling the fire alarm vs. snakes – no further details came to mind, just “snakes,” but really, what more did one need-- when she glanced across the room and spotted Bianca Barclay, sitting alone and looking peeved.
Barclay likely knew more about the school than anyone, with the possible exception of Enid, and appeared to have some ties to Jericho proper as well. She was clever, brutal, self-possessed. They hadn’t gotten along to this point, but she would clearly be a valuable ally to secure. Perhaps Wednesday could make some use of this wretched enterprise after all. She made her way over.
“I’ll admit to a degree of surprise,” Wednesday confessed as she sat down next to Bianca. “I would have expected someone as gregarious as yourself to be at the center of every dance.”
Bianca shot her a venomous side glare. “Trying too hard kills the mystique. But if you must know, my date and I had something of a tiff. Seeing as how he’s much more interested in you than in me.”
“Most vexing,” nodded Wednesday. Tilting her head to the side, she studied Bianca closely. “It’s unclear to me why a boy would pursue me if you were a possibility.”
Rolling her eyes, Bianca turned away. The feeling of those dark eyes against her face was unsettling, twisting uncomfortably low in her belly. “Frankly, me too. You’re creepy as hell. But I’m still shocked to hear you say it. You don’t even like me.”
“I don’t,” Wednesday agreed, serious as always. “But I do respect you. You’re the first person who’s outfenced me since I was ten. Your strategic skill is readily apparent in both your social status and the means you employ to retain it. You’re forthright when it suits you, and cloaked when it serves your purposes. In short, you’re adaptable, devious, and cunning. All traits I appreciate, whether in a friend or a foe.”
Bianca snorted. She also felt oddly pleased, despite herself. “Look, if anybody’s Professor Moriarty here, it’s you, not me.”
“Add well-read to the list,” was Wednesday’s level reply. “You are, of course, correct. But I’m hardly to blame for Xavier’s interest. I’ve attempted repeatedly to convey that I’m a lesbian, and that I patently, wholly, eternally reject him. Short of tattooing ‘no’ on one hand, ‘I’m a dyke’ on the other, and punching him into the next millennium, I’m not sure what else I can do.” She sighed. “But I digress. The point is, it’s perhaps time you recognized that he’s simply backward, self-obsessed, and unworthy of you.”
Nodding, Bianca shifted back toward Wednesday, almost against her will. Was Addams being nice to her? Addams? And was Bianca starting to soften toward her? Sure, the pipsqueak still dressed like somebody’s grandma’s corpse, and acted like a brick to the face wrapped in unrelenting eye contact and weird murder recipes, but it was starting to seem kind of like she . . . understood Bianca? That couldn’t be right. “Would you believe that I’ve spent the past three years worrying that the opposite is true?”
Wednesday’s eyebrows knit together. “That he’s too good for you? Unlikely. Unless ‘good’ is defined narrowly and counterintuitively as ‘whiny.’ And I, for one, would argue that it’s usually best to assume commonly accepted definitions for words.”
With a humorless laugh, Bianca shook her head. “Come on. I’m a siren. A siren influences people. There’s never any way to know if someone’s really interested in me or if it’s just my powers. Sure, we look like the life of the party. But we’re always secretly the loneliest ones in the room. Always wondering ‘what if I’ve just accidentally been controlling them the whole time?’ ”
“You do wear an amulet,” Wednesday pointed out.
“Yes, and you wear shitkicker boots with three-inch lifts. Doesn’t make you tall.”
Wednesday nodded thoughtfully, her eyes not leaving Bianca. Jesus, when was she going to quit staring? And why did Bianca feel seen? “Addamses are trained to resist interrogation techniques and other interpersonal manipulations starting at the age of four. We are generally minimally susceptible to outside influence. You may be assured that I am genuine in my regard for you. Which you may further confirm by recalling that I have admitted to not liking you.”
Bianca blew out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, laughed for real this time. So Addams was telling the most-popular (ok, and often most-miserable) girl in the whole school that she could trust her. What was worse, Bianca suspected it was true. “So what, we’re going to be besties now? Because you think I can rely on you? Because you don’t like me, but you respect me, and you need a foe? You’re not the main character of life, you know. Not any more than all the rest of us are.”
“No,” agreed Wednesday simply, without defensiveness. “But I suspect that something of a mutually beneficial treaty could be drawn here. Do you agree?”
As much as she hated herself for even entertaining the possibility, Bianca found herself playing out scenarios in her mind. Could she and Addams help each other? If so, how? Her eyes widened as a possibility occurred to her. She wouldn’t have even considered it before this whole wacko universe-bending conversation where Wednesday fucking goddamn Addams, of all people, was listening to her, seemed to understand her, was proposing to parley like they were centuries-old diplomats. Ugh. Might not even be worth mentioning, but the benefits would be significant if Addams agreed. Bianca sighed. “Yes. But you’re going to have to kiss me.”
Wednesday’s assessing gaze didn’t falter, and bizarrely, she didn’t reject the idea out of hand. Was that a shade of interest Bianca detected on her face? “Go on.”
“Just once. But publicly. Probably here is our best bet. We want wide exposure.” Bianca glanced around the room. Plenty of students grouped up and watching others dance as they chatted. The occasional attendee crossing through the area where they were seated. And best of all, local journalism. Enid Sinclair was over by the punch bowl, talking to Ajax. Bianca was confident she could place an accurate wager on how long that’d last once Bianca and Wednesday got close. Somewhere between 3 and 6 seconds, probably?
Wednesday knew she wasn’t the only one who could keep score, and she watched as Bianca continued calculating. But worthwhile conclusions couldn’t be reached without accurate information. Regrettably, some self-disclosure would be necessary in order to obtain genuine consent, let alone concoct a suitable plan. “You know my own parents are prohibited from hugging me.”
“Nope, didn’t know that one. Wow.” Was Bianca seriously entertaining the notion of making out with this sociopath in front of god and everybody? She pushed that aside for the moment and continued. “Here’s the thing. This is advantageous for both of us. Everybody sees you kissing a girl. I think we both know that the majority of our peers are not, shall we say, given to shades of nuance. Kissing me is the sort of demonstration that’s more believable than words. It’s the equivalent of actually getting those tattoos. Boys will start leaving you alone.”
“I’m listening,” Wednesday considered. “But what’s in it for you?”
“Think about it. I’m the person that even bandolier-packing, touch-averse serial killer Wednesday Addams wants to get with. Xavier wants you? Well, I can have you. Or him. Or choose neither. Cementing my free, open, female-self-empowerment vibe in general, and giving me leverage in that relationship in particular. I’ve got enough dating history with boys to avoid being mislabeled, and an adventurous foray like kissing you does nothing but earn me ‘exotic’ points in the male mind.”
Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday contemplated the impact outside of romance. She was a child of Gomez and Morticia, after all, and therefore well-practiced in discarding sentimental motivation. Somebody had to. “Doesn’t it damage your social standing to be associated with me? And doesn’t it elevate mine to be associated with you? I have no interest in, well, being of interest.”
“Temporarily.” Bianca waved her hand, dismissing the concern. “But just ask Enid. Attention spans are short. There won’t be any ongoing relationship to stoke the flames. Won’t be long until you’re settling into that free-from-male-harassment life, only occasionally remembered as the spooky gay chick who somehow caught Bianca Barclay’s eye once. Not to mention, declaring yourself more openly might gain you some attention of a . . . more welcome variety. As for me, it only goes to my openmindedness and badassery. Not only am I queer-friendly, I survived kissing a girl who’s stabbed people for making inopportune eye contact. It’s a win-win, Addams. You know I’m right.”
Wednesday had to admit that Bianca’s calculus seemed correct. However, there was the small matter of her inexperience. Not, again, for sentimental reasons. In fact, it seemed expeditious to gain some proficiency within the bounds of an arrangement precisely like this one, with limited emotional investment. Didn’t hurt that Barclay was . . . well, Barclay, competitive and businesslike and very, very physically attractive.
But there were non-zero potential risks. It would stretch the bounds of her acting ability, for one thing. To say nothing of the fact that the last time she’d had any non-incidental physical contact with another person of supernatural ability (her mother, incidentally, a hug as she boarded the bus for the first day of kindergarten), the resulting feedback jolt had knocked out residential electric across most of the Eastern Seaboard for three days. Although, if that happened again, at least the cursed teenage mating ritual known as the Rave’n would be forced to conclude.
To communicate this without immediately shutting down their prospects, Wednesday settled for “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” That alerted Bianca to a need for sensitivity, and came close enough to a disclosure of potential liability, yes?
“Shocking.” Why was Addams smiling at her sarcasm? Bianca rolled her eyes and pressed on. “Look, you could do a lot worse, first-kiss-wise. I’m hot, I’m smart, and I’m ruthless. As you know. Plus, I can make it look convincing, and I’m not going to try to lick your tonsils.”
Mildly repulsed, Wednesday lifted one eyebrow at Bianca. “Is that the bar? Tonsil-licking?”
“I mean, I don’t know, maybe dykes are different,” Bianca shrugged. “But over here in hetero land? Absolutely.”
“Please accept my condolences.” For a long moment, dark eyes met light, and Bianca found herself growing dizzy. Jeez, she was the siren. How was Addams doing this to her? Still deadpan, Wednesday began to summarize. “So this is your suggested arrangement. Brief episode of kissing, here, tonight, in order to out me and gain you leverage. No further change to our existing relationship, although if this goes well, we may choose to collaborate again in the future for limited projects, or to pursue a more ongoing working relationship. No other terms. Correct?”
Bianca’s smile was sharp, almost dangerous. “Take it or leave it, Addams.”
“Take,” Wednesday opted, returning the smile with daggers in her eyes. Before Bianca’s next thought, the back of Wednesday’s hand was tracing slowly over her cheek, rotating until a steady thumb grazed gently over her lower lip, wended its way down her chin. Bianca had expected Wednesday’s hands to be cold, but they burned. Those coal eyes glowed, still not leaving Bianca’s, as Wednesday moved to stroke Bianca’s other cheek with her fingertips. Disturbingly romantic. Distressingly affectionate.
So far, so continuously-power-supplied, thought Wednesday, noting a mere flicker in the music and irritating mood lighting. A pity. All the same, she found her traitorous throat swelling. She hadn’t expected the skin of another person to conjure this feeling of . . . relief?
Bianca grabbed the front of Wednesday’s dress, then, the material twisting in her fist, and pulled her closer. When she placed her lips near Wednesday’s ear, Wednesday shuddered despite herself. “You’re making this look good,” Bianca murmured, a sensation that reverberated through Wednesday’s chest.
“My parents treat public displays of affection as a professional sport,” explained Wednesday with a quirk of the eyebrows, and Bianca could feel the corner of Wednesday’s mouth almost smiling. Wednesday settled one hand at Bianca’s jaw, one at her waist, soft and solid, and drew back just enough to kiss her.
The kiss was gentler, somehow, than Bianca had expected. Languid. Sincere? Despite herself, she felt her mouth open against Wednesday’s, let go of a sigh, pressed into the small but steady figure in front of her. She introduced the lightest hint of tongue and felt Wednesday rise to her, pushing back. The reaction in the room vaguely registered, the thunk of a full plastic cup hitting the floor and a susurration of voices, but Bianca found herself uninterested, caught up in the moment.
She remembered her mother kissing women, sure, but only to attract the attention of men. A show, not unlike the one she’d imagined putting on with Wednesday for their classmates. But Wednesday kissed like Bianca meant something, popularity and siren song and finely-tuned snark aside. Like she was worth caring about or something. A discomfort rose up in her chest – it wasn’t supposed to go like this, not with Addams, for fuck’s sake—
And Wednesday’s spine turned to steel, her eyes rolled up, and her head snapped back so fast that Bianca’s fist in her clothing was the only thing that kept her upright. “Addams, for fuck’s sake,” Bianca hissed, her internal monologue becoming external before she realized what was happening. Great. Hazards of frenching a psychic. She sighed, sucked her teeth, and checked her watch, tightening her grip on Wednesday.
That was when Enid Sinclair stormed up out of nowhere, demanding “Bianca, what just happened?” There was an uneven bluish tinge near the hemline of her dress and splashing across her shoes. Of course she’d been the one to drop her drink. Where was Ajax? Other than long-forgotten, smirked Bianca mentally.
“I don’t know. We were just kissing.” Bianca’s nonchalance seemed to irritate Enid, and the werewolf’s claws were starting to poke out. Interesting. “I’m not going to drop her or anything. Chill out.”
“She’s just having a vision,” Enid reported to no one in particular, pointedly ignoring Bianca. “Happens all the time.” She proceeded to sit down behind Wednesday, supporting the smaller girl back-to-back.
Around the two-minute mark, Wednesday fell back into her body, pushing Enid back slightly as her head flopped forward again. She shook herself and blinked. Once her eyes started tracking again, it was only half a moment before they slammed into Bianca’s. “Your mother’s going to ask you to go back home with her. Don’t. It isn’t going to end well for anybody but her husband. And she can’t actually make you. There’s probably somebody else who can help, but I’m not sure yet who it is. We might have to kiss again once your mom gets here. For more up-to-date information.” Without another word, she got up, turned, and stalked off.
“ ‘For more up-to-date information’?” Enid sounded confused. “Is your spit the Oracle of Delphi now?”
Bianca watched Wednesday push past a few onlookers and blend back into the crowd, then raised her eyes to the ceiling with a pointed exhale. She turned to glance back at Sinclair. “Hasn’t been before. Apparently that’s something you should watch out for. You know, once you and Addams finally realize that you’ve been madly in love with each other since the day you met.”
“I’m with Ajax,” Enid reminded her nervously. Was it really that obvious? She’d have to work on her poker face. Poke-her face. Heh. That was kind of funny. Poke her? I don’t even know her. Focus, Sinclair. Ajax. Plausible deniability.
“Yes. And nobody knows why. Well, ok, good talk, I’m going to go . . . do something not here.” Bianca rose to her feet, smoothed down her skirt, started scanning the room.
“Bianca, wait.” Bianca felt Enid scoot closer to her, couldn’t miss the note of vulnerability in her tone. “Why . . . why did she kiss you?”
“You fail to appreciate my charms?” Bianca replied, arching a brow, but seeing Enid’s kicked-puppy face, she relented. “This part better not go on your blog.”
“Strictly off-the-record,” Enid assented. The worry on her face was almost cute, Bianca thought. Little golden dog sniffing around a feral black cat.
“Bog-standard high-school alliance,” Bianca reported, using what she thought of as Carefully-Curated Bored Tone #3, the one accompanied by checking her fingernails. “She wants to out herself and get boys to leave her alone, I want to look like a badass and get back at Xavier. I’d say we accomplished our aims, wouldn’t you?”
Judging by the murmurs among the groups of students on the dance floor, plus the speed with which Xavier was making his way through the crowd, Enid thought so. “But she’s not, like, your girlfriend?” Did that sound pathetic? Was that pathetic?
Bianca sighed. “For crying out loud, Sinclair. There’s got to be some kind of corollary to the Bechdel test where we’re not just talking about our female love interests either.”
“Our female love interests?” repeated Enid, eyebrows threatening to merge with her hairline.
“Well, yes, apparently I’m discovering you’re not the only bi girl around here.” Bianca shrugged. “But you can have Addams. She’s hot, sure, but she’s still way too fucking weird for me.”
“Did you just—“ exclaimed Xavier, shoving his way through the last few tables and chairs.
“I look forward to your writeup,” Bianca smiled over her shoulder as she turned to lead Xavier to a less-populated area. “Minus my off-the-record comments, of course.”
Ignoring the glow slowly centering itself in her chest, Enid nodded. Just before the sprinklers went off.