AN: Thanks for continuing to read! This is the final OC-only character development chapter for a long while, but it was needed to help set up why someone like Jessica would end up alongside the canon cast later. Jessica's background becomes important far later in the story, as does the early interactions with Syn, so thanks for bearing with this and hopefully it wasn't too much for you. As always, please leave a review. I would love to know what you think.
Ah, to be a teen. You could never pay me enough to go through these years again…
Chapter 8
Jessica returned home, relieved to see her room again. Her mother and father greeted her pleasantly, just returning from Switzerland, and quickly everything was as though nothing happened the previous summer at all. Jessica's parents did not talk with her much as it was, and very little communication was shared about her experience with Whammy House other than to assume that her stay was well and that she represented the family accordingly.
The girl might have been displeased with this reception, if she was not already accustomed to it. Jessica's mother, Anne, was a notable socialite who used her wealth and pedigree to promote charities all over the United Kingdom, much like her mother did before her. Her father, Paul, was a real estate investor and held properties the world over, which only added to the already lavish collection of family estates and vacation homes. Jessica supposed she was expected to care, although she could not bring herself to, especially considering she never stepped foot in many of them.
Jessica had her group of friends, and a collective squeal echoed in the foyer as a number of them arrived at her house one day to celebrate her long-belated birthday now that the school year was upon them. Twelve was a difficult age with no one to share the transition with.
Then the school year began in earnest. Jessica was a good student, studious with her homework, capable on exams, and worked well with others on projects. She was sociable and popular. She stood up for other children otherwise bullied in her presence. She was poised in front of her teacher and pupils and all who knew her, only breaking down into the little girl she actually was in the privacy of her own room. There she could storm and rant to her small collection of stuffed toys, wonder about boys she was just beginning to crush on, and dream about whatever she wanted without someone else telling her whether it was proper or attainable.
Syn watched her progression with mild interest. It was a shadow that lingered in her peripheral vision, and It knew Its mere presence disturbed her greatly. She nearly willed herself to forget about the specter in the final weeks at Whammy's, but was starkly reminded when she pulled the Book from deep within her dresser drawer whilst packing. The black leather-bound Book sent an ominous shiver down her spine, and she was quick to hide it in her satchel before anyone else might come across it. Still, even months after returning to Wycombe, the Book remained hidden in its spot where she left it, and the spirit attached patiently waited for the best time to reappear.
Christmas came. Her grandmother arrived and stayed longer than she did in previous years, eager to escape the emptiness back in Europe. Unlike her mother, Patsy showered her granddaughter with attention, using gifts as an unspoken apology for the aloof, shallow child she raised. With age, it seemed the elder realized how little social requirements meant to the happiness of childhood. In the grand scheme of things, social class meant little at all.
"You must know she will die soon."
The gravelly pitch cut through her thoughts when she was getting ready for bed. The New Year was about to chime, and it was announced that the girl was not yet old enough to stay up for the festivities. Downstairs, the dim hum of laughter drifted into the upper corridors, and Jessica made the rebellious decision to stay up on her own anyway.
She closed her eyes and wished the blasted beast to just disappear.
"She will not last another year."
Turning toward the shadow, she hissed, "Why are you telling me this?"
Syn stood in the corner, Its stick appearance giving the impression of a ghastly coat wrack. Its red eyes glowed in the darkness, offsetting the whiteness of the line of sharp teeth wrapping around an emaciated face. The visage frightened her every time she dared to look at It, but the scowl clenching tightly at her jaw concealed how she really felt.
Its reply was simple, "To prepare you."
Her hazel eyes narrowed, "Like you prepared my grandfather?"
"Your grandfather understood that all life is finite." The phantom paused then, turning Its gaze toward the hallway beyond her door, "You should take advantage of this knowledge."
"I-"
A knock interrupted them and Jessica snapped her attention. The apparition remained in Its corner, now focused on her as she gingerly approached the door and opened it. Patsy, fragile and weary, wearing her dressing gown, greeted her granddaughter with a warm smile, and Jessica blushed.
"Sorry to bother you, dear."
"Are you not attending the party?"
The elder woman laughed a little, "Dear, I am too old for soirees these days. I was just about to retire when I thought to pop by. You are alright, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," the girl nodded, wondering if she might be reprimanded for being awake past her designated bedtime. She reached to brush her grandmother's arm lightly, "You are alight?"
Patsy's smiled broadened and she tilted her head to one side. Strands of her once long brown hair loosened from her braid and fell to her shoulder like stretched cotton.
"You are so much like him."
There was silence and then, "Do you miss him?"
"I suppose I do," the elder said wistfully before pulling out a bundle from her robe, "I wanted to give these to you. They were letters to me from your grandfather during the War. I thought you might enjoy them."
"Thank you," she said, carefully taking the parcel before reaching out to hug the relative, "I love you, grandmamma."
The embrace was returned tenderly, a whisper in her ear, "I love you too, dear."
With spring, her time at the private middle school academy was ending. This was such an exciting time for her. Already her plans were made. Her three closest girlfriends would also attend the Wycombe Abbey School the following fall, and they were very busy making all of the arrangements preteens could make – who would they room with that they already knew there, what courses would they take together, how best individualize their uniforms so they could stand out. The campus was grand and the classes were small, so there was plenty of opportunity for her to nestle in quickly. Her parents requested the full boarding option despite being so close to home, but that did not bother the girl one bit. The trade off, as her mother explained to her, was that she would be able to travel with them during the summer, now that she was old enough. Travelling abroad with her parents itself was such a novel concept on its own, and for the first time in many years, Jessica was fine with the plans her parents were making on her behalf.
But then…
But then a visitor came.
It was April. Jessica was turning thirteen in a month. The spring weekend morning promised a walk in the park with her friend Emma and lunch down at that small café they loved so much. Already, she was dressed in her favorite yellow dress and white cardigan gifted to her at Christmas. Her long hair was tied into pigtails near her ears, and the outfit together made the girl appear slightly older than her age. She was about to walk out the door when one of the maids called after her from the hallway. Mrs. Lambert was asking for her in the garden.
Of course she was, the girl thought morosely. Jessica back-stepped through the house and saw a table with guests at the far end of the garden under the gazebo. The table was already set for tea with an extra seat waiting for her, and once she recognized the visitor, her heart just about stopped.
"Ah, Jessica, you do remember Mr. Ruvie," her mother chimed, a polite smile on her petite face. Mother and daughter looked very much alike with their mimicked facial expressions in the moment as Jessica tried her best not to allow the fear in her stomach to grow.
"Mr. Ruvie," she curtsied to her dismay and slowly ambled to the chair between them.
"Mr. Ruvie was just on his way through Wycombe and thought to stop by, isn't that nice?" Her mother took a sip of her tea.
Jessica nodded. This was so reminiscent of the previous visit last year, only there were no cakes adorning the tray this time. She focused all of her attention on the handle of the silver teapot.
"Yes, it is lovely to see you again, Jessica," Mr. Ruvie replied just as formally, a rare grin morphing his sharp features as he regarded her. He continued in kind, "Your mother and I were just chatting about your aspirations. She tells me you want to be writer one day."
Her heart was sinking with every breath. In a moment of rebellion, "A doctor, actually."
A startled cough surfaced from her left, and Jessica knew her mother was taken off guard. The briefest of smirks cross her lips, willing herself to further kick the table. She managed to hold back.
"A doctor," Mr. Ruvie's lilt lightened.
"She has many aspirations, as you can tell," Mrs. Lambert cut in a casual tone, subtly dismissing the assertion, "There is no telling day to day what she might like."
"A medical doctor," the girl turned to the gentleman, a confidence bolstering her words, "I want to travel to Africa and help sick children."
There was a moment of silence and Jessica could imagine the wide-eyed glare directed at the back of her head. Mr. Ruvie studied her, the glint of his blue-grey eyes locking onto the child with a form of scrutiny she refused to be cowed by. He pursed his lips and replied, "Like Princess Diana?"
Without missing a beat, "Princess Diana is not a doctor."
"No, she is not." Mrs. Lambert directed both of their attention back to the present with clink of her teacup on her plate. Adjusting herself, she turned to her daughter with a thin lips and poise, "Jessica, Mr. Ruvie has made a suggestion you might be quite interested in then."
She was sure she was not interested as she turned toward her mother and straightened against the chair, "We agreed on the Abbey."
"Yes, we did. Last year."
"I am already accepted."
"We can remove you from admission easily enough."
Jessica resolve was breaking, her voice shaky as she countered, "There is an entrance exam."
"One I am certain you are capable of passing."
Swiveling her head toward her guest, the pigtails bounced against her cardigan, "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Jessica!"
"This is a school for geniuses, mother," Jessica jerked back, all composer dying as tears pricked her eyes, "They don't just let anyone in."
The woman scoffed, "You are not just anyone, Jessica. You are a Lambert."
The girl unhinged her jaw trying to find some suitable reply. She imagined Catelin's smug leer at how how utterly right she was. She wanted to scream. Scream until the entire town heard her cry. She was to go to the Abbey with her friends and gossip about boys and do theater projects. She was to come home in the summer and travel the world with her parents. She was not supposed to be shipped off to an Institute filled with socially illiterate children!
"There is an entrance exam," The deep voice of Mr. Ruvie sailed over the pair as he sat observing the veiled family quarrel. Jessica closed her eyes and allowed the two streams to roll down her reddening cheeks. She was going to be lectured when he left, but that did not matter anymore. He took a sip of his tea and clarified, "And there is a standard we abide by for admission. However, from what I have seen of Jessica, she is far more capable than she gives herself credit. She would be a lovely addition to the class of boarding students already in attendance."
"The Whammy Institute is the most prestigious secondary school in the UK," Her mother said definitively as though this might convince the girl sitting beside her.
"There is an orphanage attached to it." She retorted tightly.
Mrs. Lambert sighed threw her nose with a hint of disappointment, "I am quite aware of that, Jessica. Our family has been a patron since the War."
"Yes," Mr. Ruvie nodded, "Your grandfather had a great influence in the Institute's establishment as well as the orphanage. He was quite the advocate for education, and I am sure that he would have only wanted the best for you."
What was best for her? Jessica said nothing, only staring forward. This was all wrong, and her world was ending. Abruptly asking to be excused, she ran from the house, away from her family, away from the cruel reality she was handed. Her mother's betrayal burned a fire into the girl's heart, and from that moment, she vowed she would make this transition into secondary as difficult as possible for them. She would fail the exam, if she had to!
JJJJJJ
By the time Jessica found herself on the doorsteps of Whammy House again, summer was waning. Already, a line of cars pulled into the front arc of the gravel driveway; young teens clambering out with various degrees of dissatisfaction plastered on their faces as they hugged their parents goodbye and entered the white sandstone monument. Jessica arrived alone, save the chauffer to carry her things. The girl pulled a face at the sight before her. How did she end up here, she wondered. She was supposed to follow her plan.
She almost did. For the final weeks of the school year, Jessica barely looked at her homework. She was curt with her teachers and less attentive with her friends. She had a temper when things did not go her way, and she daydreamed openly about how everything would be better if her parents just cared. When her friends heard that her admission had been pulled from the Abbey, they were frantic and worried for her. At least they grasped how completely unfair all of this was.
At home, she used the silent treatment on the lot of them. That approach did not seem to work on her parents, however, and her mother simply groaned at the immature reaction from her daughter. Jessica then attempted to appeal to her father about the damaging impacts of removing her from her social circle at such a critical age, and how all of the programs at the Abbey were designed to help build up strong girl leaders for the future of the United Kingdom. Her father smiled kindly at her and for the first time in a long while gave her a reassuring hug. Still, he already knew the circumstances and informed her the decision had been made. There was no changing it short of her failing the entry standards, standards her father pointedly suggested she meet lest she wanted to attend a public secondary school for all her opposition.
Finally, Jessica attempted to use her emotions against her mother. She wrote a letter to her grandmother detailing the atrocity being committed, hoping that the elder would see her side. But this approach also backfired when Mrs. Lambert at last lost her patience, the letter warped tightly in her hand.
"Honestly, Jessica!" She nearly shouted, shaking the proof of her daughter's ill manners, "I expect more from you!"
A new threat came then that put Jessica on the straight and narrow. If she did not improve her behavior, she would be sent to Whammy's for summer too, taking away the promise of a true family holiday in Spain. She stomped in the moment with a tantrum to end all teen tantrums, but afterward, the girl submitted to no longer arguing on the matter.
This left the so-called exam. One day just before the start of the summer, a laptop arrived at the house. It was a bulky thing, nearly the size of one her textbooks, and white with a black screen and hard keyboard. With the package was a set of instructions. Once the laptop was turned on, the exam would begin. Once the exam ended, the laptop would shut off automatically. She could take as long as she liked to finish. The politely written letter even wished her luck.
Sullenly, alone in her room, Jessica eyed the electronic device. She should just answer the first question wrong and be done with it. What a shock to her family it would be.
"You are being stubborn."
The voice crackled, and she turned sharply with a bark, "Would you just go away?"
Syn stood behind her, looking intently at the laptop on her desk. It turned and continued, "This is what your grandfather wanted."
"I don't care! It's not what I wanted!"
"Strange," It's orbs settled on the girl, "You would rather bring shame and pain to your family than be inconvenienced."
"You don't understand," Jessica flounced in her chair, tears brimming, "No one cares about what I want. No one even asks. All I ever do is what they tell me! Well, I don't want this! I don't want to go to Whammy's! I want to go to the Abbey with my friends."
"You will not fully appreciate this request until you have already fulfilled it."
"What is that even supposed to mean?"
There was a long pause and Jessica wondered if Syn disappeared before the string of thoughts boomed inside her head, "Your family seems to care," It paused, "Though, perhaps not as you understand. But, you are young. There is still time."
"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and booted up the machine, "I hate every one of them."
"Even your grandfather?"
"My grandfather is dead."
"All life is finite, yet intention can last for eternity."
Ignoring the spirit, she glared at the first question displayed in white DOS script. A graphic of a square was crudely drawn in eight-bit format; below it was a line of text. The question: What shape do you see? A) circle; B) triangle; C) square; D) rectangle; E) none of the above.
She would have to be idiot to get this question wrong. No wonder the boys laughed at her. She stroked the key with the correct answer.