Dane

There was something super weird going on with Silus lately.

It all started when Aiden—out of nowhere—decided he wanted to "have a chat" with Silus. Normally, Aiden avoided Silus like he was a walking onion-breath dispenser. Watching them interact was like watching two porcupines try to hug—awkward, spiky, and doomed to end badly.

That morning, Aiden showed up to school looking like he'd gone ten rounds with a cold. He was sniffly, sneezy, and rocking a nose so red he could've guided Santa's sleigh. He tried to act all cool about it, muttering something about getting sick from "too much beach time," and then added, "totally worth it," like that explained anything. Knowing him, the full story probably involved him trying to wrestle a shark or chase a seagull—but of course, he wasn't spilling the details.

When I thought things couldn't get stranger, they did. I walked into the infirmary later that day, and guess who I found? Silus. Taking care of Aiden. Yeah, you heard me right. Aiden was sprawled out on the bed, looking like a grumpy potato, and Silus was...well, he was playing nurse. Not in a "here's a band-aid, feel better, dude" kind of way. This was full-on Florence Nightingale mode. Silus had a towel on Aiden's forehead, his face all serious like he was about to start quoting medical textbooks.

But the real kicker? Maths class. I wasn't exactly a genius or anything, but even I knew Silus and maths went together like oil and water—or worse, me and spelling tests. When Mr Harmon called on me to answer some geometry nonsense, I stared at the whiteboard, waiting for a miracle. Out of nowhere, Silus leaned over and whispered the answer to me. And it was right. I almost fell out of my chair. This was the same Silus who once asked if a triangle could have four sides, and now he was a geometry wizard? What was next—Silus tutoring the class?

But here's where it got really confusing. When he leaned over to whisper in my ear, my heart did this weird ba-bump thing. Like, what the heck, heart? I chalked it up to nerves—or maybe just the shock of him not being wrong for once. Definitely nothing to do with Silus. Except...well, the other day, I saw him in the cafeteria. He was standing there, staring at Camila like she'd invented air or something. Being the bigger person, I walked up, trying to be friendly. He turned to me, and...he smiled. Not his usual half-hearted, checked-out smile. No, this one was softer. Nicer. Warmer. And for some reason, it hit me like an arrow to the chest.

His laugh was...refreshing. His smile was...cute? No. No way. Silus wasn't cute. What was wrong with me?

Yeah, something had been up with Silus. And honestly? I was starting to wonder if something was up with me too.

So, after school, I decided to channel my inner detective and surprise him at his house. I knew he still lived in the same single-storey home I practically grew up in. It was a short drive away, and Mum's trusty old sedan was up for the task, even if the street leading there had more potholes than Swiss cheese.

When I pulled up, there he was—Silus—sneaking into his own house. He was creeping around, glancing over his shoulder like he was about to rob the place...in broad daylight. Silus was many things, but subtle? Not one of them.

I parked by the kerb, keeping low in my seat, and peeked out the window. His house hadn't changed a bit. The crooked mailbox was still hanging in there like a champ, and the bushes his dad, Rod, always promised to trim were as overgrown as ever. Nostalgia hit me like a runaway shopping cart—but in the good way. It was the kind of nostalgia that made you feel like you were back in the best parts of your childhood when everything felt easy and safe.

I couldn't help but grin as memories came flooding back. Like the time Silus and I turned his living room into an all-out pillow fort warzone. We had fortresses, moats, barricades—the whole deal. It was epic...until Rod walked in and saw the decorative pillow massacre, hitting us with a lecture about "pillow conservation."

And, oh man, the WWE incident. Silus and I were convinced we could be the next tag team champs and decided to test our moves on poor Silvia. I could still picture her flying through the air, limbs flailing like one of those inflatable tube guys at car dealerships. And then Rod walked in, right as his daughter got suplexed onto the carpet. That was the day our wrestling careers died.

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head as the memories hit me harder than a body slam. For a second, I almost forgot why I was sitting here, playing undercover spy.

Reality smacked me in the face. Silus wasn't the same guy who built pillow forts or choke-slammed his sister anymore. Nah, he'd changed—a lot.

Ever since his mum passed, it was like someone swapped out his regular coffee for decaf, and his energy just tanked. Silus used to be the guy—the one who could crack up a whole room just by raising an eyebrow. But over time, that guy faded away, replaced by someone quieter, colder, and honestly, a royal pain in the gluteus maximus.

That contagious laugh of his? Gone. Downgraded to the occasional grunt that barely counted as human sounds. The guy who used to light up a room? He must've packed his bags and moved to Antarctica because the Silus left behind had about as much warmth as an iceberg.

And me? I might as well have been a ghost. We'd pass each other in the hallways, and he wouldn't even glance my way. No "Hey, Dane," no dumb jokes, nothing. Instead, he started hanging out with a new crowd—people who looked like they had "bad influence" tattooed across their foreheads.

Silus didn't just go off the rails—he built a whole new track. He'd become the school's latest sensation, but for all the wrong reasons. This was the same guy who'd been booted from three schools. His greatest hits? Oh, nothing major—just redecorating the principal's car with sticky notes and dropping stink bombs in every classroom.

He wasn't just a regular in detention—he had platinum VIP status. I wouldn't have been surprised if the teachers named the detention room after him, complete with a "Silus Was Here" plaque and some graffiti in his honour. I bet he had a reserved desk and a complimentary coffee waiting for him every time he showed up.

And his academic record? Let's just say he was in the running for "Most Intellectually Challenged." His essays were rumoured to have been mistaken for abstract act. Teachers would squint at his work, trying to decide if he was a misunderstood genius or if they should just write "please explain" in big red letters. There was even talk of creating a new grading scale just for him: "A for Ambitious, B for Bold, C for Creative, and F for 'Frankly, we have no idea'."

Silus had become a walking legend. His antics weren't just legendary—they were the stuff of nightmares for anyone trying to keep order.

Imagine my confusion when the recent Silus wasn't making headlines for all the wrong reasons anymore. The day he showed back up at school, I thought, "Let's give this a shot. Why not try talking to him?" We hadn't spoken in forever, and I wasn't expecting much. Maybe a sarcastic grunt. Maybe a side-eye. But what I got? Blew. My. Mind.

He actually acknowledged me. No smirk, no snarky comeback, just...normal human interaction. I half-expected him to sprout wings and ascend to the heavens because, honestly, this couldn't be the same Silus I'd grown used to.

Instead of setting off fire alarms, starting cafeteria food fights, or masterminding pranks, he was...attentive. Like, taking notes in class kind of attentive. And—get this—showing up on time. It was like someone hit the reset button and swapped out rebel Silus for model-student Silus straight out of a school brochure.

Even though he'd been ghosting me harder than a bad ex, I still had a soft spot for the guy. So, obviously, I wanted to get to the bottom of this freaky transformation. I was knee-deep in my thoughts, plotting my next move, when the front door of Silus' house swung open.

And there she was—Silvia. She stepped out into the sunlight like she was strutting down a runway, only with less posing and more panicking over where she left her keys, complete with a frantic pat-down of all her pockets.

My face heated up faster than a car dashboard in summer. I blinked a few times, making sure I wasn't hallucinating. Was this really the same Silvia I grew up with? Nostalgia must've hit me harder than I realised, because...wow. She was stunning.

I remembered Silvia as the non-stop chatterbox from back in the day. She used to cling to Silus and me like an octopus, her evil little laugh echoing through the neighbourhood like she knew exactly how to get her way. And she did. This was the same girl who could sweet-talk her parents into giving her an extra hour of TV time—but did she use that power for good? Nope. She'd rope us into climbing trees and launching water balloons at poor Mr Richardson, who just wanted to mow his lawn in peace.

But this Silvia? This wasn't the same brat who used to drag me into backyard chaos. With her silky brunette hair and those brown eyes catching the sunlight just right, she looked like she'd evolved into a goddess—one who could end world conflicts with a single hair flip and a well-timed smile.

It happened again—that stupid little ba-bump in my chest. I swear, these twins were messing with me in ways I couldn't explain. Whatever power they had over me, I needed them to cut it out before I started questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.

I slouched down in my seat as Silvia strolled off the front lawn, disappearing down the street until she was just a dot in my rearview mirror. Only after she was completely out of sight did I muster up the courage to get out of the car.

My legs felt like jelly as I marched up to the front door. I gave the doorbell a good press and stood there, waiting for the door to open. Nothing. Weird, considering I'd seen Silus sneak inside a few minutes ago. I pressed it again. Still nothing. It was like the house itself had decided to ghost me harder than Silus ever had.

I stood on the doorstep, trying to look casual while feeling like an idiot in a staring contest with a door. The longer I stood there, the more my brain went off on some weird tangent. I half-expected the doorbell to start questioning its existence like, "Do I ring because I exist, or do I exist because I ring? Is there more to life than being pushed around all day?"

The uneasiness in my stomach grew stronger with every passing second. Something wasn't right. I pulled out my phone and dialled Silus, fully expecting his dopey voice to pick up. Instead, I got hit with that lovely, automated message saying his number was unreachable. Seriously? Even his phone was in on the ghosting now.

I plopped down on the doorstep, feeling less like a concerned friend and more like a rejected pizza delivery guy. Minutes dragged by, ticking louder and louder in my head. I rang the doorbell one last time, clinging to a shred of hope but bracing for disappointment. The house stayed dead quiet, like it had taken a vow of silence just to mess with me.

I scratched my head, totally baffled. Why wasn't Silus answering the door? I replayed everything in my mind—watched him sneak inside, then saw Silvia emerge like a butterfly busting out of its cocoon. Was this some weird twin sibling hide-and-seek code I didn't know about? Should I have stopped Silvia before she fluttered away?

Just as I was about to double down on my amateur sleuthing, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Mum's name light up the screen. Dad was acting out again, and she needed me home ASAP.

That was my cue to leave.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket, tossing aside my detective hat as I made a dash back to my car. Whatever was going on with the Arias twins would have to wait—no matter how much it was driving me up the wall. Right now, I had bigger fires to put out.

As I sped down the street, dodging potholes like I was in an obstacle course, my brain refused to drop the whole Silus and Silvia situation. The sneaking, the ghosting, the sudden transformations—it felt like a puzzle missing a couple of key pieces. But for now, family came first.