As Wirt would come to remember it, it was a crisp autumn day when he first met her. The winds had been blowing just hard enough for him to need a heavier winter jacket and there had been plenty of leaves to crunch underfoot as he made his way home from marching band practice. Practice had ended early, Mr. Endicott having come down with a particularly severe migraine. It was unusual. The eccentric band teacher often had headaches, a sign of his slowly deteriorating mind he would often claim, and it was rare for him to ever cancel practice, especially with a competition so close. Yet, they had waited nearly half an hour for him to show up in the parking lot where they practiced, when finally he had appeared in the entrance of the school, muttering incoherently to himself, and had sent them all home. Wirt had been distinctly disappointed. It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed marching band, but it was his best chance to hang out with Sara.
Sara, the school mascot, also happened to play flute in the marching band and for the longest time, Wirt had the biggest crush on her. The two of them had been in the same school since middle school and she was the coolest girl in school, as least as far as Wirt was concerned. Of course, he'd never had the guts to tell her that. Not that it'd matter. Practically everyone in the school knew that Jason Funderberker had a thing for Sara and well, let's just say that he was the complete package. Wirt knew he couldn't compete with that. It didn't stop him from moping about it on his walk home. His head was hung low and he kicked up each pile of leaves that he came across. He was in no rush to get home. All that waited for him there was his annoying little half-brother and the weird smelling old lady that his step-father had hired as a babysitter. He didn't know her real name. She had always insisted on being called Auntie Whispers. She was a strange woman and the less he thought of her, and that weird bell she carried everywhere, the better.
It wasn't long before he rounded the last corner and came upon the street where he lived. He bounded up the porch and opened the front door slowly. He expected the usual old person smell or at least the ringing of that weird bell, but instead he was greeted by the acrid smell of burnt food. It was strange. Auntie Whispers never cooked, preferring instead to heat frozen dinners in the microwave. Why was she suddenly going through the effort of cooking food herself?
Wirt deposited his things by the door and shed his coat as he moved into kitchen. The smell was stronger in here and a wisp or two of smoke still lingered in the air. "Greg, why is Auntie-" He stopped short. Instead of the hunched frame of the strange babysitter, there stood a girl, probably only a couple of years older than him. Her orange hair was pulled back in a messy bun and freckles dotted her cheeks. She was dressed comfortably in a sky blue hoodie and jeans and over it she had on a chef's apron that read 'Kiss My Ass.' She eyed him inquisitively as if trying to come to a decision about him. Before he could say more, a loud clang came from behind the kitchen counter. From around the corner of the cabinets poked out his half-brother Greg's head, a spaghetti strainer perched precariously on top.
"Wirt!" Greg's shrill voice called out, "The new babysitter's setting all the food on fire!"
The girl rolled her eyes. "You must be Wirt," she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "You're brother told me about you."
"H-he did?" Wirt stammered, "W-what did he say? That's just like him, you know. He's always talking way too much, saying whatever comes to his mind. You know how kids are."
The girl simply stared at him, eyebrows cocked. "Right," she said, giving him a look that said he had probably said too much, "Well, I'm ordering pizza. What do you like on yours?"
"I'd like vegetarian."
"Pepperoni it is, then!" she said with a smug smirk.
"B-but I-"
"PEPPER. ONI."
Wirt sighed, defeated. There probably wasn't any point to arguing. "Fine. I'll be in my room. Let me know when it gets here." The girl grunted as she turned back to cleaning up the kitchen. He headed for the stairs, intent on staying away from the girl when a strange feeling gave him pause. He poked his head back into the kitchen. She was turned away from him, scraping some burnt piece of food off of a plate "By the way, I didn't catch your name," he said.
"That's because I didn't tell it to you," she replied without turning around. Wirt groaned and headed back to the stairs. He wasn't sure why he had bothered. He had almost made it to the top of the stairs when the girl poked her head out from the kitchen. "It's Beatrice."
Beatrice, he thought as he entered his room, What a nice name.