𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐩 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐗𝐈

Back in Nevermore, all the students were happily mingling in the quad as they enjoyed their lunch. The plentiful, delicious food was served to everyone on long, rectangular tables with elegant long white tablecloths. 

Pugsley gives a little self-satisfied grin as he pugs a whole jug of maple syrup over his black pancake "cake tower," its five black layers separated by a thick layer of white cream each.

"Mmm. I am famished." Mortician exclaims in his deep, honeyed voice as he piles on some sugared tomato slices on his white plate with his silver fork as his wife stood opposite him on the other side of the table with a little mountain of a combination of vegetables and meat, under two soft tortilla shells on her plate- a unique take on deconstructed tacos.

Many other students and parents were crowded around their table, busy tucking in, replenishing their energy for the exciting afternoon that would follow. 

The only person from all the tables that wasn't eating was the monochrome, tall, lean, floppy though still neat black haired boy, standing with his arms crossed at the head of his table. His cold obsidian eyes stared glassily down at the pure, white tablecloth while his parents, who were on either side of him a little further down the table, happily enjoyed their food.

He didn't have an appetite. There were more pressing matters on his mind. Like the reason behind his Father's resentful graveyard visit. And, even though he would never accept it, the illogical irritation that he had with his vexing maid and her sudden disappearance.

"You're not hungry, son?" Mortician asks his eldest son lightly as he stabs a slice of tomato with his fork, his attention mostly focused on the plate in his hand much like his wife's.

"My appetite eludes me, Father." Saturday replied coldly and flatly. In an instant, his shrewd obsidian eyes had moved to target his Father. "The same way the truth eludes you." he mutters quietly, stalking off, past his Father's side, his lean arms still stubbornly and rigidly crossed at his muscular chest. 

His face was an icy, emotionless mask. The boy was a master at concealing any and all his feelings. It was irrelevant to his outer composure even if inside, he felt like a blizzard was blowing at the same time as a wildfire was burning. 

He had always enjoyed the way these two elements tore him apart inside, but that was before, when he possessed absolute control. Right now there were mysterious and temperamental variables disturbing his perfect state that he needed to resolve- one of them being a certain petite, golden eyed girl.

Gomez walks up to her husband's side with a worried expression on her face, with furrowed eyebrows, holding her filled plate with both hands. Even though she had finished assembling her three mouth-watering soft shelled tacos her appetite had dwindled significantly upon seeing the worrying state of her eldest son.

"We need to tell him." she said desperately to Mortician, looking earnestly up into his obsidian eyes, which had gone cold and distant upon hearing her words.