The next morning, Amity walked into the fencing hall with a purpose, the only one in a black uniform. The air was wild with the clash of steel against steel, but it was easy enough to navigate.
Towards the end of the hall, one of the fencers tumbled to the ground as their opponent pointed their sword at their chest.
"The match goes to Boscha," the fencing coach droned.
"What? No fair!" The loser whipped off her mask, revealing a girl with choppy purple hair, freckles, and angry brown eyes. "Coach, she tripped me! You saw it!"
The fencing coach rolled his eyes, indicating that this wasn't the first time this happened. "It was a clean strike, Bria."
Boscha removed her mask, shaking out her bangs. "Maybe if you whined less and practiced more, you wouldn't suck."
Bria gave her a dirty look as she got back to her feet.
"Seriously, Coach, when am I gonna get some real competition?" Boscha complained, twirling her sword in her hand. "Anyone else wanna challenge me?"
"I do," Amity announced.
Everyone turned in her direction, gazing at her with expressions that ranged from bewilderment to mild fear.
"Awwww!" Boscha looked her up and down, a fake smile on her face. "You must be that psychopath they let in."
"And you must be the self-appointed queen bee," Amity responded. "Interesting thing about bees—pull out their stingers and they kneel over dead."
An ooooooh rippled through the room at that.
Boscha wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Bria doesn't need you to come to her defense. She's lazy, not helpless."
"Are we doing this or not?"
After a beat, Boscha shrugged and put on her mask, getting into position. Amity followed suit.
"En garde!" the fencing coach called.
In the ensuing minutes, Boscha proved herself to be quite the opponent, infuriatingly enough. But she didn't have a father who insisted on impromptu swordfights every Saturday afternoon, and she didn't have the Blight fighting spirit.
First point went to Amity.
Unfortunately, after that, it became apparent that Boscha had been going easy on her before. The score was even in a matter of seconds.
Amity pulled off her mask so everyone could see the dirty look she was giving her opponent. Boscha removed hers with a triumphant grin.
"That first point was so beginner's luck," she purred, pacing around Amity like a lion about to pounce. "Are we gonna finish this, honey eyes?"
Oh, it is fucking ON.
"For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge," Amity told her. "No masks. No tips." She smirked. "Winner draws first blood."
Murmurs and gasps sounded throughout the room. Boscha gave the fencing coach an incredulous look.
He shrugged. "It's your decision, Boscha."
Amity stared Boscha in the face, silently daring her to forfeit.
Instead, her confident stance returned to her easily as snapping your fingers. "Fine, then," she sighed, tossing her mask away. "Let's see if you bleed in monochrome."
With that, Boscha lunged.
It became harder and harder to keep up with her, even as Amity let instinct take over. Alador's voice surfaced in her mind as she fought fiercer with every step, telling her to dodge, to parry, to strike, to turn, to do everything in her power to get that hit—
Slash.
Amity froze in shock, not even registering the pain. She lifted her fingers to her forehead and touched it.
They came away covered in blood.
"Look at that," Boscha said, her lips curving into a grin. "I have to say, Amity, red really does suit you."
What. The. Hell.
"You've got a lot of potential, though, I'll give you that," she continued. "Maybe you can join the team, and—"
"I need to go to the nurse," Amity said tonelessly, grabbing her bag.
Her mind still reeled as she left the fencing hall. She'd lost. She'd really lost.
Well, one thing was for sure. If she somehow failed to escape Nevermore, there was something she had to look forward to.
Revenge.
...........
"What happened to you?"
Amity looked up to see Hunter in the doorway of the infirmary, reddish-purple eyes trained on the band-aid on her forehead.
"I challenged Boscha to a duel after I saw her defeat Bria and rub it in her face," she answered. "Unfortunately, Boscha won."
"Yeah, well, she's not the captain of the fencing team for nothing." Hunter sat down on the other bed. "I wouldn't worry about Bria, though. She can handle herself."
"You seem pretty sure."
"She was the queen bee before Boscha arrived, and she's got telekinetic abilities," he pointed out. "I mean, sure, Bria's gone a little off-kilter lately, but still."
Amity watched as he took out a syringe full of neon green liquid and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a series of neat black stitches holding his hand to his wrist.
She'd only seen stitches like that on one other person. Come to think of it, she'd only seen those eyes on one other person.
"You're a Reanimated," she realized.
Hunter looked surprised. "You actually know what those are?"
"My family's butler is one. His maker was careless and made an error with his intelligence, and they abandoned him instead of fixing it. We took him in a few generations ago." Amity raised an eyebrow. "What about you? Let me guess—your maker wanted a fully-grown adult, got a teenager, couldn't handle the responsibility, and dumped you on Nevermore?"
"Nothing nearly that cliche," he responded, injecting the liquid into his veins. "Me and my parents died in a car accident when I was two, but luckily, my uncle's a pretty accomplished necromancer. Only problem is, my parents had accepted their deaths, so Uncle Belos had to raise me himself. Literally."
You don't look like a toddler, was what Amity wanted to say. Instead, what came out of her mouth was "How'd that work out for him?"
Hunter shrugged. "For someone who was totally unprepared to take care of a kid, he's doing an alright job, even if he's a bit overprotective sometimes. He even designed me so I can actually age—that's what this is for," he added, holding up the syringe. "It allows my body to continue growing even though I'm technically dead. I stop taking it when I'm twenty-five."
Amity furrowed her brow. "If your uncle's such a good parent, why'd he send you here?"
"Normie kids treat outcasts like they're crimes against nature, and seeing as the Reanimated actually are, we get it worse." Hunter twisted his lips. "I didn't start hiding my stitches until third grade, but by then, people had already caught on. And I was too freaked out about what they'd do if I told people, so I kept my mouth shut about the bullying until eighth grade."
"What changed?"
"Oh, nothing," he said casually, scratching the back of his neck. "Just some assholes from the soccer team coming at me with a heavy-duty stitch remover and burying all my body parts in a graveyard, 'where I belong.' Took the police a day to find me."
Amity scoffed. "Idiots. Everybody knows that a Reanimated can only be killed by being stabbed through the heart."
Hunter grinned. "See, that's why I'm glad you're here. You don't have any time for sympathy."
"It never makes people feel better." She sat forward. "How did your uncle take it?"
"Well, all those kids had rich parents and got to avoid charges, so if anyone asks, the explosion that left two of them incredibly scarred and the other three shell-shocked had nothing to do with Uncle Belos." He spread his hands. "He sent me to his alma mater so I'd finally fit in somewhere, and I met Luz. One friend's more than I ever had, so I'd consider that a win. You should, too."
"Is this your way of inspiring me?" Amity said dryly.
"It's my way of telling you to maybe give this school a second chance," Hunter countered. "You're scary, you're rebellious, and you're incredibly antisocial—I can respect that. But don't knock Nevermore until you try it. Actually try it."
Amity pondered what he'd just said.
Hunter was probably one of the most tolerable people at Nevermore, despite his inexplicable friendship with Luz. And he apparently trusted her enough to tell her his tragic backstory—which, despite how nonchalant he sounded about it, was clearly a heavy subject for him.
But she'd only known him for two days, and she didn't even take advice from her own family members.
"I'll consider it," she clipped, standing up and walking out of the infirmary.
It was raining when she moved from building to building, which improved her mood slightly. Making sure that nobody was around, Amity hummed "Sound of Silence" under her breath as she opened up her umbrella.
By the time she looked up at the sky, the gargoyle had already started to fall towards her.
"AMITY!"
Someone tackled her from the left, causing her to hit the pavement.
............
It was always disconcerting to wind up in the infirmary right after you've left it.
It was equally disconcerting to open your eyes to see someone standing over you.
A familiar-looking girl with glasses cracked a smile. "Welcome back."
Amity sat up, arms crossed over her chest.
"Hey, hey, hey," the girl soothed, holding out a hand. "Just take it easy." Her eyes traveled up to Amity's forehead. "Nurse says you don't have a concussion, but you've probably got a bit of a bump."
"I'll add it to the list of head injuries I'm acquiring." Amity furrowed her brow. "I was distracted. I suffered a defeat in fencing class. I'd never felt like that before."
The girl shrugged halfheartedly. "Yeah, losing to Boscha has that effect on people. Sick moves, though."
"Then I looked up and saw that gargoyle coming down at me, and I thought, 'well, at least I'll have an imaginative death.'" Amity gave the girl a look. "Then you tackled me out of the way. Why?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "Y'know, most people just say 'thank you.'"
"I didn't want to be rescued."
"So, I should've just let that statue smash you to bits?"
"I would rather rescue myself," Amity retorted.
The girl laughed. "Nice to see you haven't changed. If it makes you feel any better, let's just say I returned the favor."
Amity blinked, confused.
"Willow Park." She twisted one of her braids around her finger, the light revealing that her hair wasn't black as Amity had initially thought, but instead a deep forest green. "You probably don't remember me. Last time we met, I was a few inches shorter and had this puffy ragdoll haircut that I'd just started growing out—"
"What happened?"
"Going right to the point, I see," she said wryly. "It was my godmother's funeral."
Godmother's funeral...
"She and your grandmother were friends," Willow continued. "Spent their 20s in Europe swindling the rich and notorious. I was a bored little kid, and I had the inspired idea to hide in her casket, but the lid got stuck—"
"And I heard your screaming as you were heading towards the incarcerator," Amity said slowly, the memory coming back. "I thought your godmother had risen from the dead."
"Either way, you hit the big red stop button right before I got burned alive." Willow gave her a smile. "So, now we're even."
Amity then remembered that this was Boscha's ex-girlfriend and Hunter's crush, which meant she had a strike against her and a point in her favor. Two points, if she held any ill will towards Boscha.
But Willow looked, acted, and sounded much too sweet for Amity to consider her anything close to a friend.
"If we're even, then I suppose that means we never have to see each other again," she said, swinging her legs out of the bed. "Thank you for saving my life, I suppose."
Willow raised an eyebrow. "Nevermore's not that big of a school, Amity. I'll definitely see you around."
Amity knit her lips together. Not if I can help it.
............
Later, Amity was hard at work on her novel when she heard a rustle from her side of the room.
She looked up to see a series of small footfalls appear on the bed, indicating a weight that seemingly wasn't there to begin with. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly got up, waiting until they stopped.
She reached forward with both hands and grabbed onto fur.
An indignant yowl sounded as a white cat with bright blue eyes suddenly appeared in her hands.
"Ghost," Amity hissed. "I knew it. I'd pick up on your cat smell anywhere."
Cue another yowl as Ghost swatted at her, not even having the basic dignity to know when she'd been had.
Amity glared at her. "Don't play games. Dad and Father sent you to spy on me, didn't they?"
Ghost's face became sullen, indicating that she was right on the mark.
"You should know that they don't actually care about me," Amity said. "They're evil puppeteers who want to control my life, even from afar."
That was apparently grounds for an angry hiss. Ghost had always been a judgemental cat.
"The way I see it, you have two options." Amity dropped Ghost onto her desk. "I can invest in a telekinesis-proof cat carrier, where you will remain for the entirety of the semester, except for food and bathroom breaks—during which I will be monitoring you with a spray bottle in hand. Your coat will lose its glossy sheen, you will be sorely behind on your exercise, and you won't be able to glean any of the secrets that you thrive off of."
Ghost's eyes widened at that prospect.
"Or..." Amity propped her chin on her hands, giving Ghost an evil grin. "You pledge your undying loyalty to me."
After a long, tense pause, Ghost rolled her eyes and lowered her head.
Amity gave her a pet. "Excellent. Our first order of business—escaping this teenage purgatory."
A/N: Everyone who's seen Wednesday: Oh, Liz is probably gonna make Belos Crackstone, that makes the most---
Me, looking you dead in the eye: Crackstone is unchanged
(In all seriousness if I made Belos Crackstone then I'd have to make Lilith Laurel and I am not doing that, so you get another AU of mine where Belos is morally grey instead of evil)
Also, hey, Ghost is Thing! Forgot to mention that!