Wednesday was sixteen now.
Neither her mother, nor her father looked any different since a year before Pubert had been born.
Pugsley was a freshman at fourteen years old, and Pubert was going to be in pre-school next year.
Gomez and his wife -whom was two months younger than he- were now thirty eight. And Fester's fourtieth birthday party was to soon come.
Wednesday sighed and looked out the window. Their house sat alone on a hill, they had no neighbors next to them.
At one point, a judge lived next to them but he moved when he realized just who he had tangoed with, after it was doscovered that he played a large role in the family almost losing everything. He not only moved himself, he took his entire house with him!
They liked being secluded, however. No one bothered them. However there was a street in front of their house, and cars passed through there every so often. As a few miles down was the heart of the city in which they lived, Mockrage, Massechusetts, in the town of Briarwood.
How different she looked now. She was short, compared to her five foot nine mother. Wednesday stood at but five foot three. Her parents were both tall, so everyone assumed she was short because of Máma. She had her long, black braids, but now painted her nails black, and wore only black still with white cuffs, but they're styles varied, although they were always macbre. She really didn't wear makeup. However, she did wear dark red lipstick and occasional black if not, grey eyeshadow. Other days, she sported her natural very pale, lifeless pink lip colour. Today happened to be one of those days. Her black combat boots softly kicked the ground when she swung her feet. Today, she wore a short sleeved, short black dress with white cuffs. She did not wear leggings but instead socks. She never understood how the rest of her family's style of dress rarely depended on the heat.
Her mother was typically cold.
Her father was... well a rather unsolvable puzzle.
It was about eighty degrees and sunny, so Wednesday as well as the rest of the Addams' thought it best to stay inside.
Joel couldn't come over, he was at work. And she just wasn't in the mood to torture her younger siblings today. So, she sat at the table whilst her grandmother made lunch.
"Hand me that golfer, Wednesday." Her grandmother held out her hand.
"Yes, Máma." Wednesday obediently handed her a dead golfer.
Her voice was not as monotone as it use to be, but still had that sharp, dead edge. It still made you want to watch your back. She sighed again.
"Okay, what's the matter?" Máma asked.
"Nothing." Wednesday said.
"Don't you lie to me, Wednesday. You never smile, and you smiled this morning. And a smile for you almost always means something's wrong."
"Fine. I'm sick of this weather, and I'm sick of Joel always working. And I'm..." no. No, it couldn't be true. Was the solemn, morose Wednesday Addams... lonely?
"Ah, you're lonely." Máma infered like it was not big deal.
"I am not lonely." Wednesday contradicted. "I'm just bored, and confused. And-" she paused. "God, I hate being a teenager!" She yelled. She hated... well, feelings.
"Uh-huh." Máma knew her not being lonely was a crock, the instant she said it aloud. "And I'm not sixty." She remarked, in a sarcastic manner.
Wednesday thought for a moment, then realized something. "You're not."
"That's not the point. Look, it's supposed to rain today. Go out into the city."
"Máma, are you okay?" Wednesday asked, concerned.
"I'm fine. Look, Wednesday. You are an Addams but you are also a teenager. And you do have emotions. Many years ago, I was one myself. This weird phase will pass and soon you'll be depressed again. But for now, embrace what you are. Because it won't change whether you keep yourself locked in the house or not." Máma told her.
"Máma, really-"
"No buts." Máma looked outside, it began to rain but only a drizzle, and clouds were beginning to cover the sun. "Take your car and get!"
"I-"
"Or no golfer stew." Máma threatened.
Wednesday got up from the table. "I won't make any friends!" She called to her grnadmother as she put on her black sweater by the door.
"Now if you think that way, you should be better in no time at all!" Máma called back to her granddaughter.
Wednesday grabbed her black umbrella and headed out the door, her black, coffin-shaped purse slung on her shoulder. She then got into her shiny black car -which looked like a miniature hearse- and drove off.
Rain fell outside of the museum, but she adored it. Blair was that type of girl. She was five foot three, but in her four inch, black spiked high heels she was five foot seven. She was very curvy as well, with the measurments of 38", 30", 38" and had a bra size of 38D. She had fair white skin, not tan in the slightest, but certaintly not pale. Her hair was jet black, and a tad wavy. She had no bangs and her hair extended down to her upper back. Her nails were of average length and painted black. She wore lipstick so dark red, it was almost black and had black eyeshadow, mascara and a slight cat eye out of black, liquid eyeliner. Her style wasn't goth, it wasn't really anything. It was just eccentric. She had an ophinity for all things macbre and weird, and only liked dark colours. Her facorite colour was black, which was the colour that made up at least 95% of her wardrobe. Today, she wore a high-low dress, low-cut in a swwetheart/v-neck. The bottom was blood red and black. It had long keyhole sleeves, and was black from the waist up. She had her ears periced and both ears had catilage pericings. She also had an eyebrow peicing that she didn't wear too much, and a belly button peicing that she only wore if her stomach was showing. Blair wore a spiked bracelet and a black gothic chocker with red gems hanging from it.
She also had five tattoos. The first was on her arm, a small and simple bat tattoo. The second was on her right inner wrist, it was the quote, "I do not suffer from scitzophrenia. I quite enjoy it. And so do I." The third was on her left shoulder blade. It was a blood red and black bleeding rose. The fourth was a black widow spider on her right thumb, and the fifth was on her ankle. It was not humungous, but it was not small. It had a skeleton popping out of a closet in a black background and read in fancy lettering, I never meant to hurt you, but tonight, I'm cleaning out my closet.
However, she did not mind the stares. She always told her friends who had considered changing themselves for others, that people would always make fun of you no matter who you are or what you did. Work on pleasing yourself with who you are, and tell anyone who has a smart-ass comment to suck it.
She was looking at a rather unique instrument of torture when a girl, her age or at most about two years younger walked into the museum.
She had black, raven hair in two long braids and dark brown eyes. She wore black nail polish and a black, short dress. The girl was her height when she was not in heels. She smiled at her, as if to tell her she liked the outfit. The girl just stared at her, for a few moments. She seemed speechless.
Blair took this as a compliment but turned her head on the opposite direction. "Lacey!" She called. She walked on and came to a rack, a torture device that the girl who was still staring had seen plenty of times. Blair walked behind the rack.
"Gee, where the hell could she be?" She asked, in mock curiosity.
Just then, a girl of age thirteen came out of her hiding spot. She was very skinny, and did not have much of a figure. Her bra size was probably around a size 32B. She had clear blue eyes, and facial features extremely similar to Blair. She had long, curly, golden blonde hair with her bangs pushed to one side. Her hair was in a pony-tale and her skin was the same shade of white as Blair's. Her nails were a tad shorter than Blair's, and were not painted. She wore mascara and concealer -which was hardly noticable. She had on blue, high waisted jean shorts, a white tank-top and pink converse sneakers. She had white, dolphin earrings in and a black skull necklace, only the skull was split in half.
The staring girl then noticed that Blair wore the other half. The staring girl, was none other than Wednesday Addams. She had never met someone so oddly similar to her family before. She sighed when the young girl came out.
Great. Next thing they were going to do was go to Starbucks and order pumpkin spice lattes.
"When will you stop doing that? Your thirteen!" Blair teased.
"When I grow up." Lacey said.
"So... never?" Blair asked.
"I mean, I guess if you wanna get technical about it." Lacey laughed. She then eyed Wednesday. "Blair, that chick is staring at you."
Embarrased, Blair chastized her. "Lacey, " she whispered. "We can not point that out in a public setting!"
"Do you think she's gay?" Lacey asked.
"Would you shut up?" Blair asked, annoyed.
"She looks cool, let's talk to her." Lacey then began walking up to Wednesday befor Blair had time to react.
Wednesday eyes the girl. "Hello." She said, in her usual, semi-monotone voice.
"Hey, I'm Lacey." Lacey held put her hand, but Wenesday didn't shake it so she put it down.
"Hello, my name's Blair." Blar said, and she didn't say it the way Wednesday assumed she would. This statement was not perky, it was just... a fact, that she added a bit of life to.
"I'm Wednesday." Wednesday replied.
"It's pleasure to meet you." Blair paused. "Do you live around here?"
"Why?" Wednesday asked.
"Oh, I was just trying to start conversation." Blair admitted.
"Why are you at the M.O.T.A.W.?" Wednesday asked this like she should know moh-taw stood for Museum Of Torture And Weaponry.
"Oh, I'm very interested in learning about these things. I thought I'd take my sister here for a visit. It's quite fascinating." Blair told her.
"Oh, I see." Wednesday knew if she didn't come home and tell her grnadmother anything interesting, she wouldn't eat dinner.
Her grandmother kept her word.
She decided to figure out who these people were. "So, how do you feel about..." She gulped. "How do you feel about Starbucks?" She asked.