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When Sabrina comes home, Hilda in tow, spurting a vaguely familiar song with more enthusiasm than Zelda’s seen from the girl in a while the elder aunt isn’t entirely sure how to react.
Sure, her niece is familiar with mortal entertainment and does like to listen to their music from time to time—even Zelda herself isn’t ashamed to admit that she can appreciate the musical talent of the odd mortal—but whatever this racket that her niece is bellowing doesn’t sit well with her at all. The fact that Hilda isn’t telling her to quiet down is also rather troubling.
“What in Satan’s name is all that noise for?” Zelda barks, still sat by the table in the kitchen with her tea sat next to her, lukewarm now, essentially inedible.
“I’m going to be an angel!” Sabrina cries, and the horrid realisation that the song her niece is singing is ‘away in a manger’ dawns upon Zelda. She can scarcely contain her shock.
Her eyes go wide in sheer horror. “You’re going to be what?”
“In the play. We’re doing the nativity again and Mrs Morgen said that I’m going to an angel! Ros got put as Mary and I’m a bit jealous but not too much because Mrs Morgen says that being an angel means I get to wear a gold or silver dress, and have a halo, and do a special dance after Jesus is born with all the other angels!”
Zelda is aware that this town is predominantly Christian and therefore they will have to deal with a little false religious education, some preachers every now and again, but the very thought of it going this far is enough to make her stomach turn. Just the mental image of the school having her niece parade around like one of the false God’s slaves—something that Satan himself saw was unjust and escaped from…
Well, Zelda’s often angry, and this is certainly no exception.
However, in some rational part of her mind she supposes this isn’t really Sabrina’s fault. She’s only six and should probably know better than to dally in this sort of Christian tripe but can’t very well escape it if the rest of her school is involved. No, Zelda can’t really blame her niece for this, but she can rather easily blame Hilda.
“How could you allow this? How you let her be sucked in by this blasphemous nonsense—this tale of those who would oppose out great Dark Lord? I knew we should have never sent her to that school, trust you of all people to get her involved in this sort of tomfoolery, I thought you knew better. Dear Satan, Edward must be rolling in his grave at the mere thought of—”
“Zelda, stop it, you’re going to upset her!” Hilda interrupts, and it is only then that she realises that Sabrina does in fact look rather dejected. Still, that’s hardly significant at this point—this is about Hilda and her sacrilegious allowance of Sabrina to cavort with the false God, not Sabrina’s fantasy of wearing a gold dress while singing praise to liars and false idols. “Sabrina dear, why don’t you run along upstairs while I talk to your Aunt Zelda? Take a gingerbread man if you want, they’re fresh from this morning dear.”
Still looking dejected, Sabrina takes one of the biscuits and leaves the room. Zelda can’t imagine why she looks to upset about this, really, if anything she should have foreseen this sort of reaction. Hilda looks just as annoyed as Zelda feels, cheeks red and blue shadowed eyes narrowed.
“For Satan’s sake, Zelda! That was completely unnecessary!” She says once Sabrina is out of earshot.
Zelda raises an eyebrow. “Explain to me how protecting our identity and ideals is ‘completely unnecessary’, Hilda! I see nothing here except you promoting this idiocy to our niece, after Edward entrusted us to lead her down the path of night. The fact that I find issue with that is not at all overdramatic—surely, even you, can see the big problems here?”
“She’s not going to become a Christian just by acting in a play, Zelda.” Hilda retorts, always seeming to grow some backbone when it comes to defending what she believes to be Sabrina’s interests to her sister’s appreciation and annoyance. “She’s dressing up like an angel for a night, she’s going to sing some songs she knows aren’t true and she’s going to have fun with her friends. She’s not stupid, Zelda. She’s hardly going to be converted by one kindergarten nativity play. Just let her have fun with this, it’d be cruel to make her miss out on it.”
The red-haired witch sighs, taking a cigarette from the counter and lighting it, taking a big drag of it before blowing out on Hilda’s face. It’s a petty, small pre-revenge for what she’s about to allow but revenge nonetheless. “Fine.” She grits out and tries not to smirk as her sister blinks rapidly and coughs at the smoke. “But I warn you, should this go any further than just a few hymns and metallic costumes then I will pull her out quicker than—"
Before she can finish that thought, Ambrose slides into the room with a grin on his face. “So, Aunties, what’s this I hear about a nativity?”
Zelda glares daggers at him and contemplates whether it would be violating her mandate to protect him if she killed him. Hilda just smiles, secretly relishing her victory though she likely knew that she’d win this one since where Sabrina is concerned her elder sister often has a very hard time saying no, despite the theatrics and vehement protests that prelude her giving in.
“Sabrina’s going to be angel.” Hilda informs him, her eyes bright and proud. “I’ll go inform her that it’s not going to change. She’s going to be so happy that her Auntie Zelda’s supporting her.” At that comment, Zelda looks suspiciously like she wants to take it all back if only to frustrate her sister but holds her tongue. Instead, she takes another long drag and exhales slowly, as if trying to blow all her tension out with the smoke.
Hilda scuttles off to Sabrina’s room, but Ambrose remains, just looking at Zelda with a devilish smirk on his face.
“What?” Zelda grits out.
“You just never cease to amaze me, Auntie Zee.” He says, gently shaking his head.
The witch makes a noise of disinterest in what he has to say and stalks out of the room, leaving her nephew alone and chuckling.
Hilda makes Sabrina a costume, it’s all white and gold with feathered halo and set of big sacrilegious wings. It’s the dress rehearsal, and as much as it pains Zelda to see her niece parading around in that dreaded attire she can do nought but sit and watch, fake a smile every now and then, and pray to Satan that they can burn the damn thing once this play is over.
“Watch, Auntie Zee! Look, I’m twirling!” Sabrina exclaims, spinning round and round with her arms in the air so her skirt will fly up with her.
“Yes, that’s quite enough Sabrina. You’ll make yourself sick doing that.” Zelda says, looking up at the clock. Nine times out of ten Hilda will take their niece to school but today she’s busy shopping for some last-minute things for the yuletide so Zelda’s been asked to fill in. “We better get going. Have you packed your lunch?”
“Mhmm.” Sabrina nods, picking up her red backpack and passing it to her auntie. “And I got the cookies too, the star ones, that Aunt Hilda made for me and my friends.”
“Oh.” Zelda sniffs. “Good. Let’s go.”
Normally they walk to school but for fear of getting her dress dirty, Zelda agrees to drive her this once. Sabrina’s practically giddy in the backseat, staring out the window in anticipation.
“Susie’s a sheep.” She says. “And Harvey got to be a shepherd, but I wanted to be an angel because we get the prettiest costumes. Well, actually, I wanted to be Mary because she gets more time on the stage, but I don’t mind being angel instead. Plus, I get to sing Away in a Manger—a whole line by myself! Mrs Morgen says I’m one of the best singers in the class and she gave me a gold star because I’m confident. I told her that my Auntie Zee taught me to sing so well.”
Despite herself, Zelda can’t quite stop herself smiling at that.
They stop outside the elementary school gates and Zelda walks her into the playground, Sabrina holding her Aunt’s hand excitedly. It speaks to Hilda’s talent that most of the children’s costumes aren’t anywhere near as well done—and as much as it pains her to see Sabrina in it, she allows herself a little pride in the craftmanship of her sister alone. She spies Sabrina’s friends halfway up a climbing frame across the playground, and nods at her niece to go and join them.
Content her job is done, Zelda turns to leave.
“Mrs Spellman?” Zelda’s eyes narrow and she turns around to see a blonde woman approaching her, who’s carrying a red leather handbag that—from the looks of it—could match one of her own in price.
“It’s Ms.” She says a little abruptly.
“You must be Sabrina’s mother.” The woman doesn’t give Zelda time to correct her. “I’m Julie Lawlor, Olivia’s mother—just wanted to say how beautiful Sabrina’s costume is! You must tell me, where did you buy it?”
Zelda pulls a cigarette from the case in her pocket. “My sister made it. She’s good with sowing.”
“Homemade! That’s very impressive, I never would have guessed.” The woman looks towards Sabrina and her friends. “Certainly puts Susie Putnam’s costume to shame, don’t you think? Poor thing, parents don’t even have the decency to try.”
Susie’s wearing a big t-shirt—probably her father’s—with some cotton balls stuck onto it, and a black headband with some paper ears stuck on. Zelda raises an eyebrow at the woman. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She retorts, and then spins on her heel back to the car. She doesn’t need to turn around to see the startled look on that woman’s face and is content at the thought of it.
The day of the play, Sabrina is a ball of excitement and confidence. She’s learnt her lines (all four of them) with Ambrose and almost went to sleep in that dreaded costume—Zelda is sick of having to tell her not to wear that blasted halo in the house, it’s blasphemous. But the day of the performance is finally here—Sabrina’s come home for dinner after rehearsing all day and then goes back in at six to perform—and the little angel can’t sit still.
“I’m standing next to Olivia and Katie, in the middle so you’ll definitely be able to see me. I think Mrs Morgen did it on purpose because she knows I’ve got the best costume, though I can’t say that to the other angels because Aunt Hilda says it’s not very kind.” She smiles at her aunt and Hilda winks back.
“That’s right, love. Now finish your peas!”
Sabrina shoves a forkful into her mouth and keeps going. “And when we walk on at the beginning, I get to go at the front—”
“Don’t speak with your mouthful, Sabrina, no one wants to see the green mush spilling out of your mouth.” Zelda says, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.
“I’m super sad you can’t come, Ambrose!” Sabrina exclaims post swallowing.
“I wish I could be there, cousin. But I’m sure Auntie Zee will tell me all about it when she gets back, do pay close attention, won’t you Auntie?”
Zelda narrows her eyes at him. “Oh, yes. And while we’re gone, you’ll be sure to clean the bathrooms for us, won’t you Ambrose? It really needs doing and it’s hardly like you’ve got anything else on.”
He scowls. “Actually, I’ve got a fine date with the journals of Oscar Wilde.”
“I’m sure Oscar will be devastated to hear you can’t make it.” She takes a drag from her cigarette and exhales slowly. The thought of having to sit in that auditorium for an hour without a smoking break is a little gruelling but deep down she is a little excited to see Sabrina in the play. Satan curse her, the girl has enough confidence to keep her entire class afloat and will likely do so—and, if nothing else, it’ll be nice to see if all of Zelda’s hours of singing lessons pay off.
“We’ve only got half an hour until we have to be back at school!” Sabrina exclaims, looking up at the clock and then proceeding to shovel the remains of her Shepard’s pie back into her mouth with haste, tapping her foot on the ground quickly as if that’ll speed up the seconds.
“Dear Satan, remember to chew Sabrina! You don’t want to get mash on your dress.” Hilda tuts and goes to her niece, wiping a smear of potato of the girl’s check. “I promise we’ll be on time.”
“We should be early. Just in case.”
“Don’t worry about time, love.” Hilda puts her hand gently on her niece’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine, won’t we Zelds?”
Zelda inclines her head gently. “Of course, we will. Would we lie to you?”
Sabrina chuckles and shakes her head. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just so excited!”
“I can tell, you can barely sit still!” Hilda smiles and takes the clean plate from Sabrina over to the dishwasher. “Now go upstairs and do whatever you need to, and we’ll come and get you when we’re ready to go, okay?”
“Are you sure we can’t go now?” Sabrina pouts.
Zelda grimaces at the thought. “And allow the PTA mortals to attack me with an onslaught of idle chatter? I think not. Amuse yourself Sabrina, it won’t be long now.”
The little girl sighs and picks her skirts up, running heavy-footed up to her bedroom. Ambrose follows after her shortly, but not before Zelda can hand him the disinfectant and dustpan because, while she may have initially said it as a jest, she fully intend for him to clean the bathrooms because Satan knows, on the labour front, he does little enough in the house.
About twenty minutes later Sabrina is jumping up and down in her car seat giddy, asking Zelda for the fifth time ‘are we there yet’ despite knowing the route to school very much off by heart. Had she not been so eager, her aunt probably would have told her to settle down but she’s only ever going to have one kindergarten nativity play, so has elected to try and let her enjoy it as much as she can.
“Look, Aunt Hilda, it’s Susie!” Sabrina says, pointing out the window. “Susie! SUSIE, IT’S ME!”
Zelda turns to the side and notices said child walking in her little sheep costume by herself. The red-haired witch frowns.
“Where’s her father?” Hilda asks before her sister can get to it. “Sabrina, love, put your hand back in the car!”
Zelda slows the car down and goes to the side of the road where Susie is walking as she honks the horn to catch her attention.
The younger sister sticks her head out of the window. “Where’s your father, love?—you shouldn’t be walking around on your own, it’s getting dark.” Hilda says.
“Oh, it’s fine Miss Spellman I promise!” She smiles. “One of the cows started to have her baby so my Dad had to stay back at the farm. It’s only a ten-minute walk, I’m alright, I promise.”
“We can’t have you getting cold.” Hilda shakes her head. “Hop in the back with Sabrina, sweetheart, and we’ll drop you off with us.”
“I’ll move up, come on!” Sabrina clicks her belt off and shuffles to the side while Susie, appreciative smile plastered over her face, gratefully gets into the car.
“Thank you, Miss Spellman. You’re very kind.”
Hilda smiles back at her as Zelda starts to drive off again. “You are absolutely welcome. Listen to that, Sabrina—why can’t you be polite like Susie?”
“I’m polite!” Sabrina retorts, and then blushes when she realises that her comment would suggest otherwise. Zelda resists the urge to snort (not that she does snort, ever).
They pull up at the side of the school and lock up—Zelda wrapped up in her white fox furs and six-inch alligator skin heels with her sunglasses still on, scanning the area for predatory mothers while Hilda gets out and opens the door for the children. Internally she is quite sad for Susie that her father couldn’t make it—the witch is vaguely aware that she has a drunk uncle who also lives with them but hasn’t ever seen him in the flesh, so doesn’t imagine given the solitude they found the little girl walking in that he’ll be attending either. She pulls a cigarette from her pocket and looks at her watch, promptly sighing upon realisation that she doesn’t really have time for a smoke.
“Let’s head inside, it’s getting chilly.” Hilda rubs her gloved hands together and really didn’t need to give that reminder—the girls are practically sprinting towards the school gates as soon as the younger aunt can make sure their coats are done up properly.
Zelda reluctantly puts the cigarette back into its case and walks next to her sister inside. They’re not here late by any means but neither are they early—hopefully it’ll only be a couple of minutes before the blasted play begins once they get inside because the fear of conversing with the PTA mothers is ever present.
Once they get inside however, it seems that their tardiness is their downfall. The hall is mostly full except for two empty seats next to that unpleasant woman who had poked fun at Susie’s costume not long ago, and Zelda is resigning herself to stand for the entirety of this affair. “I think there’s room over in the corner to stand against the wall, Hilda, we should—”
“Don’t be silly, Zelds.” Hilda rolls her eyes and tugs Zelda to the free seats not without protest.
“Excuse me, are these seats available?”
“Oh! Yes, of course.” The woman gives them a blinding white smile and Zelda tries to remember what her name is from the other day. Jenny? Jessica? “Sabrina’s mother and I have spoken before.”
“Aunt.” Zelda corrects with a sigh. “We’re both her aunts. Hilda here made the costume you were so fond of.”
“Really? My, I was so impressed by it! I’m Julie, my Olivia is wearing one from the—”
Zelda has no qualms with sitting on the end of the row and ignoring the conversation, thanking Satan below heartily when the lights finally dim. The teacher comes out (not a woman that Zelda particularly likes, but Sabrina likes her enough to disregard her aunt’s opinion about it) with a smile that’s far too wide to be anything but forced.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” She exclaims. “And welcome to this year’s performance of the nativity—I’m sure you’re all very excited to be here!” A round of applause goes around the room—one that Hilda participates in enthusiastically—and then simmers down again once the teacher recommences. “Now, before we get started, I’m going to have to insist that phones and cameras are put away, and, um, if a parent of guardian of Susie Putnam is here can they please go to the back door for a moment? Nothing to worry about! Just a technicality.”
Zelda and Hilda look to each other, Zelda reading her sister’s face with a sigh and puts her hand up. “We brought her to the play, her father couldn’t make it.”
A wave of whispers spreads around the room and Zelda has to hold her tongue to stop herself expressing some mildly rude retort. The teacher rushes to take the red-haired witch’s arm and hurry back out of the hall with an exclamation of ‘I hope you enjoy the play!’ as they go.
“Is something wrong with her?” Zelda crosses her arms once they’re out of the audience’s earshot.
“Well, it’s just Susie’s feeling a bit of stage fright and I was hoping we could get someone to help talk her into going on. Little Sabrina and Harvey have already given it a go, but the poor thing’s barricaded herself in the girl’s bathroom teary-eyed. I don’t want to force her so—”
Zelda is somewhat taken aback by what’s being asked of her. “I understand your concern, but I really don’t know the girl very well. Barely at all, she’s just Sabrina’s friend…”
“There’s no harm in trying, Ms Spellman, though I won’t force you. I just thought you might be able to help her.” The teacher sighs. “Oh, well. It’s not like she’s doing anything important anyway and, well,” she snickers. “We both saw that costume.”
“Where is the bathroom?” Zelda straightens up and pushes her sunglasses back along the bridge of her nose.
“Oh! Just two doors on the left.”
Zelda takes another long second to stare at the teacher up and down and then abruptly spins on her six-inch heel. She may not know Susie Putnam very well but understands what it is to be looked down upon for things one cannot control and has had about enough of the little girl being mocked for now.
(Mentally, she makes note to make Hilda offer to make Susie’s costume next time something like this happens).
The witch has never been into a kindergarten toilet before, and after this first experience can’t say she’s ecstatic to try it again. Hilda must have, she normally handles all the orientation and paperwork regarding Sabrina’s mortal education since Zelda still deems it an absolute waste of time—though really, from the look of the toilet paper on the floor and chipped purple painted stalls Zelda can’t imagine what compelled her sister to let their niece return to this place. There is a dreadful amount of some brown, rot-like substance coating the drains of all the sinks which must be some sort of health hazard, and there’s more limescale on the faucets than actual metal. Not to mention the paint job which—Satan, it physically hurts to look at it—clearly hasn’t been fixed in a few centuries given the countless chips, scribbles and stains that could only be urine. Zelda suddenly skids back when she realises that there is, in fact, an ominously coloured puddle not ten inches from her heels and covers her mouth and nose with her hand.
It also occurs to her at this point that the detailed analysis of a children’s bathroom that she’s just been through has been, very much, stalling.
Were it not for the smell she might have taken a deep breath to prepare herself to somehow attempt to convince a mortal child she barely knows to participate in a profane production, but instead she settles for a cough to alert Susie of her presence before starting to spurt the best thing she can come up with on the spot.
“Child…” She starts, dodging around the puddle to approach the sole closed stall. “It’s Ms Spellman, Sabrina’s auntie. Everyone is waiting for you to come and get ready for the play.”
There’s a sniffle behind the stall door. “I’m not doing it.”
Zelda sighs, as if she was expecting her first statement to work in itself. “Now, why not? I know you’ve all been working on this for weeks—why put all that to waste now?”
“I can’t go.”
“Now why not?”
“I just can’t.”
The witch wants to curse herself—her approach clearly isn’t working. She thinks back to when she last tried to coax Sabrina into compliance which, given her nieces affrontive temperament, was not very long ago at all. “Ah, well. That’s a shame.” Zelda says in a tone of nonchalance. “Because Sabrina’s other auntie and I were going to buy you and Sabrina ice creams on the way back for doing well in the play, but I suppose we can’t do that now if you’re not going to be in it.” There is no way that will not work—her niece can be convinced to do almost anything with a sugary incentive. Zelda can’t imagine that’s any different for this child.
“You can still get one for Sabrina if I’m not in it.”
The witch’s eyes widen incredulously, and then narrow. She’s not going to be outwitted by a child, let alone a mortal one. Satan, after centuries of experience you’d think she might be able to—
Zelda shakes her head. This isn’t some sort of game, this is a child in distress—and it is her duty as a carer and midwife to protect and help children to the best of her ability, and as of yet she has not failed in this. “That’s alright, then. But if you can’t be in the play, would you at least like to come and watch it with me? I’m sure all your friends would like that, and I think you might too.”
A contemplative silence falls over the stall for a long moment, before Susie finally says: “You won’t laugh when I come out, will you?”
“Why would I laugh?”
“Because…” Slowly, the stall door swings open to reveal a red-eyed Susie with a ripped t-shirt that has some sort of red substance on it, and her previously long brown hair is sheared up to her ears on one side. At the sight of Zelda’s inevitable shocked expression, she bursts into tears again.
“Oh! Don’t cry. Please.” Zelda bends pats the girl’s shoulder gently to try and comfort her and is surprised when she springs a hug on her like Sabrina is prone to do before bedtime. Slowly, and hesitantly, she starts to gently rub circles into the girls back which does seem to do a semblance of good for the sobs start to cease enough for her to make comment.
“What happened?”
Susie shakes her head. “It’s s-stupid. It’s just paint, from the classroom and my h-ha-hair will grow back.”
Zelda kneels so she’s at the girl’s level and tilts her chin up to meet her eyes. “It will, but I think that’s hardly the point—who did this? Why didn’t Sabrina, Rosalind and…the other one help you? I know Sabrina would never let anyone treat her friend like this.”
“They were helping with Mrs Morgen with the chairs. Olivia and Natalie pushed me in the bathroom with paint and scissors because their mommies said my D-Dad was cheap and I’m ugly…”
Zelda scoffs and shakes her head. “Well, those girls have got another thing coming—they couldn’t be more incorrect of they tried. Now…” She takes the long half of Susie’s hair into her hand, notices the extra t-shirt Susie has under her cotton-ball costume and has an idea. “When I’m finished, you’ll look like a Versace model. It’ll only take a minute.”
“W-What’s Ver-sach-ee?”
“It’s a very famous clothes designer, the kind people with taste often purchase clothes from.”
Susie makes a noise of acknowledgement but evidently doesn’t really know what Zelda’s talking about.
The witch pulls a pin out of her own hair and rests it on her lip as she thinks, gently turning the girl around and twisting her hair up against the back of her head to it looks like a pixie cut from the front—pinning in in place. “Take that ruined costume off, I have something better for you, darling. Even those girls who did this awful thing to you will be jealous, I promise.”
Susie looks at her and she takes the bigger t-shirt off. “What is it?”
Zelda pulls her white fox fur off and wraps it around the little girl, securing it in place with an amethyst broach for good measure. “You can borrow this for tonight. Now, go and look in the mirror and then tell me you aren’t ready to be in the play, hmm?”
The little girl shuffles over to the bathroom’s grimy mirror, wiping her eyes with her little first, and gasps when she sees herself in the mirror. Zelda can’t imagine what’s going through the six-year-old’s mind, nor does she think that she’ll appreciate the worth of those furs that she’s been lent but finds herself internally very happy that she’s been able to help her. Whether it’s partly because the imagine of her crying and damaged is all too reminiscent of how Hilda had looked during the harrowing Zelda had very much partaken in is reappearing, and this is a small example of Zelda trying to redeem herself for that or not is something that she is very much going to ignore, at least for now, as she clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at little Susie Putnam.
“Now, are you ready to leave this disgusting little bathroom and show everyone who is the most fashionable sheep in all of Greendale?”
Susie giggles and slowly nods. “Okay. You’ll be watching, won’t you?”
Offering a hand to the little girl, Zelda nods and smiles. “But of course. I can’t say I’ve ever been in such anticipation for a nativity in all my life.”
A newfound confidence in her step, Susie Putnam leaves the kindergarten bathroom and heads towards her teacher who’s been waiting impatiently at the edge of the hall while the rest of the class gives a rendition of ‘jingle bell rock’ (not that Zelda can imagine where that fits into the biblical story).
And when Zelda sits back down next to her sister, who’s beaming at her like she just became some satanic saint, she actively ignores and shuffles away from her.
A few days later and it’s the end of term—Sabrina’s head to toe in red and green (Hilda’s idea, Zelda is very much against the monstrous combination that entirely undermines the yuletide tradition but has given up protesting on this front) and excited for the holidays. It’s her who’s taking Sabrina to school again which means one last PTA dodging session of the year—after wishing her niece a good day, Zelda wastes no time attempting to slip out before she hears her name being called out behind her.
“Miss Spellman!” She hears and stops, confused at why this particular voice might call for her. “Miss Spellman, wait!”
She turns to see Susie Putnam with her newly cut crop of short hair running at her like a dog after a ball holding a rather crudely wrapped object under her left arm. “Hello there, Miss Putnam. What can I do for you?”
“Merry Christmas!” Susie smiles up at her. “I wanted to give you this, to say thank you. It’s not much, but…” She holds the gift up and Zelda accepts, not having received a gift like this since…well, ever. The church of night doesn’t celebrate like the mortals do, birthdays included, and she’s never had a present from anyone other than her household for as long as she can remember, and never for any particular occasion. And Susie already gave back the furs and the brooch she can’t imagine what this us. “Well, I hope you like it Miss Spellman.”
“Thank you, dear. That’s very…sweet of you.” Zelda smiles at her. “I’m glad Sabrina has you as a friend.”
“Susie! Hurry up, we wanna play hide and seek!” Sabrina cries from where the rest of the group has assembled on the other side of the playground and Susie looks up her apologetically.
“I’d hate to keep you from your game, please go on.” Zelda says. “Merry Christmas.”
The girl returns the sentiment and runs off to her friends in haste. Zelda heads over to her car and puts the present in the passenger seat as she heads home. Later, she’ll open it in the privacy of her bedroom while Hilda’s still downstairs making Christmas cookies with Sabrina and Ambrose and reveal a cluster of glittery pasta necklaces with the word ‘versachi’ etched onto a prominent piece of penne. And while Zelda never wears them for fear of never being able to contain the sheer amount of sparkles attached, she does keep them in her jewellery box in the compartment next to the diamonds.
(Not that she’ll ever admit that).