▪︎𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦,
𝗜'𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂.
in which an ordinary girl soon finds out that she's not as ordinary as she once thought, all while trying to hide her f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪♡ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦
meet miss bubblegum.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
DALLAS KIMBERLY GARCIA.
Her name was famous around Beacon Hills, in the high ranks with the likes of Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittmore. But if you didn't care for shallow, high school popularity, you'd recognize her as the daughter of the influential lawyer, James Garcia.
Only if you dug deep enough - looked into the Garcia family tree, you'd see her as the daughter of the women who disappeared in the homey little town only six years ago.
At ten years old, Dallas was left freezing at an ice rink by her mother who was supposed to pick her up but was found by none other than Sheriff Stilinski. Her father, stressed out of his mind, committed a full wide search for his wife.
As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Marilyn Garcia was never found. There were rumours of death, alien abduction, and even the odd ghost story of what could've possibly lurked in the outskirts of Beacon Hills.
But during it all, Dallas refused to be confined in the boxes that people wanted to push her in. She was more than the kid of a woman who did a disappearing act - she never knew what happened to her mom, but she knew for sure that she wasn't dead.
So, Dallas Garcia reinvented herself.
She built up thick walls and shut everybody else out, except Lydia and Jackson, the two people who abided by her side through everything. Her sharp tongue and carefree attitude seemed to hide her insecurity and loneliness well. She was no longer Beacon Hill's charity case, but their very own bubblegum bitch.
But even under the makeup, bitchy attitude and negligence-
she would always be the girl who was left in the cold.
⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰
Dallas groaned aloud as her morning alarm rang through her brightened bedroom. Pulling the pink eye mask from her face, she sat up and stretched her arms outward.
The brunette picked up her phone from the blank, wooden bedside table and flickered through her messages. A couple of missed calls from Lydia Martin, a plethora of texts, and multiple tagged comments clouded her vision.
"Social media first thing in the morning rots the brain." her father spoke from the doorway, grasping a cup of Italian coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. His dark hair was slicked back with hair gel and his suit was fitted against his torso.
