Jacqueline "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" Van de Sand can no longer sleep through her night shift and wake up at ungodly hours to function as any other outcast in Nevermore Academy, especially not when she becomes a suspect to Wednesday Addams' murder...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
warning: blood and mentions of it, concussion, swearing, mentions of infirmary, detailed (i guess) fight scene with blood
please let me know if I missed any!!
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
The weekend couldn't have come sooner for Wednesday, spending the last couple of nights FaceTime-ing some normie that would help her out of Vermont and away from Nevermore. Neither Enid and Jacqueline were big fans of the Addams girl's devious plan of escaping, but could only go along with it as she was practically inconsolable on this idea. Rather, she was adamant on it, as if she were trying to prove a point that Nevermore--much like the other schools she had attended--couldn't hold her down.
Enid could only tightly smile at Wednesday's proclamation, while Jacqueline did her best not to badmouth her intentions.
Did she love Nevermore? Not really, but it was the only place people like them could belong. Not when the normie population was still at large and didn't bother to hide looks and disgusting remarks. They were walking stereotypes and freaks of nature to them, so Jacqueline didn't understand why Wednesday wanted to escape a world where she belonged to one where she didn't.
As they stood at the entrance of the Harvest Festival, bright, flashy lights flickering behind them and cars lined up onto the streets and grassy fields, Jacqueline, Enid and Wednesday watched from afar as a light-haired brunet boy with messy curls, green, dreamy eyes and a brown jacket with a plaid undershirt jumped out of his truck. He was cute, with smile lines running over his cheeks and a small collection of moles decorating his pretty features.
Tyler Galpin, was his name, a boy who worked part-time at the Weathervane, was the teenage heartthrob of Jericho. From what the half-Korean girl had heard of him, he was the typical boy-next-door with a solid GPA, fluent French speaker, Sheriff's son and was a sportsman. She wasn't sure which, but she would hear the rally of hundreds of different students scream "Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!" whenever she did get to visit Jericho.
