Silvia

Concealed beneath the guise of Rabbit-o, I observed the bustling front of Twinkle Toys. Jared, who never missed an opportunity to pop by during my shifts, was conspicuously absent. Perhaps he was off rescuing kittens, only to be escorted away by the mall cop—again.

The hours dragged on, each one feeling like a slow march through the relentless loop of cheerful mall music and the chatter of shoppers. The world around me was a blur of vibrant chaos, but my mind stubbornly clung to Jared's mysterious disappearance.

When my shift finally sputtered to an anticlimactic close, I practically tore off the rabbit costume, desperate to breathe as a normal human being again. I stepped out of the store, half-expecting the day to fizzle out as uneventfully as it had begun.

Or so I thought.

Just beyond the threshold, standing amidst the whirlwind of exhausted parents and sugar-fuelled children, was Jared. Hands tucked into his pockets, he appeared calm, as though he'd been musing over the grand enigmas of mall life—why fitting rooms always had appalling lighting, or why no one ever seemed capable of returning their shopping trolleys.

His gaze landed on me. "By any chance, are you Rabbit-o?" he asked.

The question threw me so off-guard that I stammered, "Y-yes, I am."

A disarming smile crept across his lips. "Sorry for startling you, but I thought it was time to meet the person behind the costume."

Despite my initial shock, relief swept over me like a breath of fresh air. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed Jared's cheerful presence until now. It was an unexpected moment of reconnection I had longed for.

We relocated to a table in the food court, surrounded by the aromas of sizzling stir-fries, rich curries, and coffee potent enough to rouse even the weariest of shoppers. The air hummed with animated conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter from nearby tables. Clearly, someone had found the recipe for spicing up life.

Jared seemed to be in a surreal daze, as if he'd stumbled into a parallel universe where toy store mascots came to life. He cleared his throat, attempting to break the ice. "How long has it been since we first met?"

I mentally tallied the days. "Three months, I believe. Unless we're counting rabbit years, in which case I think I'm due for retirement."

My attempt at humour fell flat, and an awkward silence enveloped us.

"It feels...strange, doesn't it?" he murmured, his fingers fidgeting. "Talking to you without the giant rabbit costume."

"It's as if our conversation has lost their hop."

Another comedic swing and a miss. I could practically see the debate raging behind Jared's eyes—was he obligated to laugh out of pity or politely pretend the joke never happened? I was left wondering if the costume itself would've been a better icebreaker than me.

His gaze darted to the table, then back to me. "So, um...what made you decide to work at a toy store?"

I shrugged. "I figured it was the best place to find adults who still haven't grown up."

"Really?"

"Just kidding. I needed a job, and Twinkle Toys happened to be hiring. Nothing too profound, I'm afraid."

"Do you need the money?"

"Sort of..." My voice trailed off, the truth lingering just beneath the surface, too complex to unpack in the middle of a bustling food court.

He reclined on his seat, his eyes softening. "Don't push yourself too hard, okay? Your happiness matters too, or you'll have people like me up at night, worrying about you."

Warmth crept into my cheeks, and I couldn't help but smile. "You're right. I shouldn't dwell on the negatives. Thanks, Jared."

He shook his head slightly. "No, I should be thanking you."

"For what?"

"You're the one who taught me to find the silver lining in every situation. Your exact words were, 'When life gives you lemons, make a lemonade stand and charge double on rainy days'."

I blinked in mock horror. "I said that dreadful phrase?"

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We'll analyse your entrepreneurial wisdom another time. For now, let me walk you home before it gets too late."

Together, we stepped out of the mall and into the crisp night air, where the moon played peek-a-boo behind drifting clouds. As we walked towards my house, Jared seemed to drop his guard. He launched into a series of mall mishaps, each one told with more enthusiasm than the last. There was the tragic tale of a mannequin missing a shoe, and the epic confrontation between a window-shopping pigeon and the mall cop armed with a broom.

His laugh—rich and unapologetically loud—rippled through the stillness of the street. It was loud enough to wake the neighbours, but oddly, I didn't mind. Hearing it felt...refreshing, like a cool breeze on a stifling summer day.

By the time we reached my doorstep, I found myself wishing the walk had been just a bit longer. As I reached for the door handle, his hand caught my wrist. The gesture was so unexpected that I froze, my mind scrambling to keep the moment from turning awkward.

Moonlight spilled over him, highlighting his sharp features, and giving him a mysterious allure that wouldn't look out of place in a vampire movie. "I forgot to ask for your name," he said.

I chuckled. "It's Silvia. And don't worry, there's no garlic on me."

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the quip, before releasing my wrist. I waved goodbye and strode inside, closing the door behind me.

As the thrill of the encounter faded, unease began to creep in. The warm, easy-going Jared I'd walked with tonight was a world away from the bitter, sharp-edged boy I'd seen at school. The difference unsettled me, like watching two entirely different people inhabit the same body.

My thoughts turned to Silus, and a knot of guilt tightened in my stomach. Just how severe had his actions been to leave Jared with such deep resentment?

***

A new day dawned, and there I was, locked in a veritable battle with Silus' locker—a chaotic amalgamation of misplaced books, crumpled papers, and snacks that appeared to have evolved into new life forms. It needed either a professional organiser or an exorcist, depending on which could handle the situation faster.

As I wrestled with a textbook wedged between two crushed soda cans, Dane sidled up to me, leaning against the neighbouring lockers with his arms crossed. "Silus, were you home yesterday after school?"

I glanced at him, momentarily conceding defeat to the locker from hell. "Yes, why?"

"Really?" He tilted his head. "I rang the doorbell, but no one answered."

"You probably caught me during my epic siesta," I lied.

"Damn, you must nap like a bear in hibernation."

"How did you know where I live?"

"You still live in the same house from when we were kids, right?"

I smirked. "Your peanut brain actually remembers that?"

He clutched his chest in mock offence. "Wow, I didn't come here to get roasted."

The playful banter was oddly soothing, taking me back to simpler times when our interactions were filled with harmless squabbles. I remembered the time my tree-climbing attempt ended with me plummeting straight into Dane, turning him into an unwilling cushion.

I couldn't resist keeping the exchange alive. "Dane, we all know you're the reigning champion of lagging behind in every class."

"Hey, if it weren't for you, I'd be breaking records as the slowest student alive."

Talking to Dane like this reminded me of the friend I'd left behind when I enrolled in Rosecrest—the one I didn't realise I'd missed so much until now. Now that we had a chance to talk again, I wanted to savour every second of this reunion. A laugh bubbled out of me, the kind that felt entirely too rare these days.

Dane's gaze lingered on me longer than usual, his eyes widening slightly. I was uncertain what had prompted such a reaction, but I silently hoped I didn't have anything peculiar on my face—like a piece of spinach wedged between my teeth or, heaven forbid, a hint of rabbit costume clinging to me.

He cleared his throat, shifting his focus to his phone. "I—I better jet. Catch you later, Silus."

As he walked away, I exhaled, relieved my disguise had withstood scrutiny. Turning back to the disaster zone masquerading as Silus' locker, I launched into a full-fledged organisational crusade. By the time I slammed the door shut, it felt like I'd conquered a dragon rather than a pile of old papers and questionable snacks. Satisfied, I spun on my heel, only to misjudge my turn and collide with a passerby.

To my surprise, it was Jared. His expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as our eyes met. "You again?" he spat.

He shoved past me with enough force to send me careening into the lockers. My glasses took flight, performing a triple axel before crash-landing on the floor. Scrambling to retrieve them, I could only hope my dignity hadn't shattered alongside the lenses—though, knowing my luck, the odds weren't in my favour.

I hesitated, the sting of his rejection burning in my chest, but I couldn't let it end like this. Silus had already caused him enough pain, and if there was any chance I could start to repair the damage, I had to take it. Swallowing my nerves, I jogged after him, catching up just enough to pinch the back of his shirt.

He spun around, slapping my hand away with startling aggression. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

"I just want to apologise," I said quickly, forcing my voice to remain steady even as my heart pounded in my chest. "For what I did."

Jared gritted his teeth, grabbing my collar and slamming me against the lockers. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You think saying sorry erases all the crap you put me through? Remember when you dumped your milkshake on me while your friends laughed? That wasn't even the worst of it. You called me fat, ugly, worthless—every single day. You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn't deserve to exist. I wanted to end it all because of you."

The raw pain in his voice struck something deep inside me. My hands shook as I tried to form words, but nothing came. How could anything I say possibly be enough?

"But I changed," he continued, his voice hardening. "I clawed my way out of the hell you put me in, and now I'm going to show you what it feels like. You better watch your back from now on."

He flung me to the ground with a burst of fury, my body hitting the cold, hard floor. Around us, students murmured, but their gazes darted away, unwilling to meet mine. No one dared to intervene. No one wanted to help Silus.

Jared's footsteps echoed as he stormed off. Fear held me in place, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. The humiliation, the rage, the sheer weight of his words churned in my mind like a storm I couldn't outrun. As I shakily slid my glasses back on, one thought pounded in my head: What on earth did you do, Silus?!

When the bell rang, I had no choice but to shuffle my unwilling feet to history class. I slumped into my seat, letting my forehead rest against the desk. My back ached more than I'd expected from the earlier impact with the lockers. It wasn't like I'd hit that hard, yet the pain felt disproportionate.

Amidst the chatter of classmates bartering lunch trades like seasoned stockbrokers, I stayed put, willing myself to fade into the background. Unfortunately, Mila's radar for misery was as sharp as ever.

She approached, her brows knitting into a sweater of worry Grandma would envy. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.

I didn't bother lifting my head. "You shouldn't talk to me," I mumbled into the desk. "People might start spreading rumours about you."

"I don't care," she said firmly. "I've ignored you long enough, and my guilt-o-meter just hit maximum overload."

From the corner of my eye, I caught Dane watching us. Clearly, he found the interaction between Mila and me as perplexing as a dog playing chess—especially since I was still wearing the mask of Silus. But I was too drained to care about what conclusions he might draw.

"Everything's just...hard," I muttered, the effort of forming even those few words feeling insurmountable.

Mila knelt beside my desk, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Hey," she said, leaning in to meet my eyes, though I didn't budge. "I'll swing by after school, okay? We'll talk. I don't like seeing you like this."

Our history teacher, Mr Hunt, marched into the room with the authority of a general inspecting his troops. The class fell silent, save for the faint shuffling of papers, as students snapped to attention. Even Mila, despite her earlier determination to stay by my side, reluctantly slid into her seat.

Mr Hunt wasted no time launching into his routine. "I trust everyone completed the summary sheet I assigned for homework yesterday. Today, we'll determine who earns a gold star and who gets a date with detention."

He began his favourite game of random selection, firing off questions about World War I with the zeal of a quiz show host. One by one, students floundered—Mila and Dane included—fumbling their answers as though they were contestants on a historical version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? where every lifeline involved frantically texting their grandparents.

Mr Hunt's disappointment etched deeper lines into his perpetually furrowed brow. "It seems no one has completed the homework I so generously assigned. Unless 'World War I' has suddenly become the latest dance challenge, I'm afraid we're all on the wrong battlefield."

His eyes swept the room before landing squarely on me. My stomach sank as his lips curled into a smirk. "Silus," he called. "The student who's like an anchor, dragging us all down to academic obscurity. Let's see if you can redeem yourself. Here's your question: provide at least two causes of World War I. And no, 'because someone forgot to RSVP to the peace party' isn't an acceptable answer."

I blinked, my mind still clouded by the events of the day, but the answer spilled from my lips as though on autopilot. "One of the immediate causes was the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which led to Austria-Hungary declaring war on Serbia. This triggered another cause: mutual defence alliances. Russia entered to support Serbia, prompting Germany to declare war on Russia. France then joined the conflict against Germany and Austria-Hungary. When Germany attacked France, Britain was drawn into the fray."

As the words left my mouth, my mind clicked. I might have made a colossal blunder. Silus, the undisputed nap king and connoisseur of brainless escapades, had transformed into a walking encyclopedia. Judging by the jaws dropping onto the linoleum floor—including Mr Hunt's—it was clear I'd walked into a minefield of unintended consequences.

Mr. Hunt's incredulity was almost comical. "Do you have the summary sheet in front of you, Silus?"

I glanced at my desk, where a single black pen lay forlornly amidst the emptiness. "Summary sheet?" I repeated, feigning confusion. "Oh, right. I think it's on vacation with my motivation, Sir."

His lips twitched, but he retained a solemn expression. "I-I see. Well, at least we have one unexpectedly enlightened soul in this academic wasteland. And Silus, your future as an accidental genius is looking brighter than a glow-in-the-dark sticker."

The class erupted into muffled giggles, while I slouched lower in my seat. Mr Hunt resumed the lesson, firing more questions at other students who seemed determined to reinforce his low expectations. But I couldn't focus.

How could I have been so careless? I'd spent all this time carefully maintaining Silus' image of mediocrity, yet one overly competent answer had sent the entire facade crumbling. I needed to get my head in the game before I ruined everything.

I inadvertently locked eyes with Dane, who stared at me with wide eyes. My stomach twisted, heat rushing to my cheeks as I quickly looked away. I didn't need to hear his thoughts to know what he was thinking.

By the time school mercifully ended, the tension coiled in my chest began to loosen, though the relief was fleeting. Weariness settled in as I made my way home, trudging past the familiar procession of telephone poles adorned with missing posters of Silus.

But something was different. The posters were gone, ripped away without mercy. Only the ghostly remnants of tape clung to the corners, flapping in the breeze like the last tattered pieces of my composure. The deliberate act of destruction felt oddly personal, casting a grey shadow over my thoughts and making the usual path home feel unfamiliar.

Upon returning home, my first order of business was shedding the disguise—starting with the wig. By this point, it felt like an irritable ferret clinging to my scalp and plotting my eventual downfall. Pulling it off was an act of liberation, though the red marks it left on my forehead were a humbling reminder of the lengths I was willing to go to for this charade.

The doorbell chimed, snapping me out of my reverie. Mila's timing, as always, was impeccable. We headed to my room and settled onto the bed. I braced myself for what was sure to be a heartfelt conversation. Then again, knowing Mila, it could just as easily derail into a debate about something utterly absurd. Either way, I didn't have the energy to resist.

My lips trembled as I broke the silence. "Jared's out to get me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Wait, what?"

"I think I provoked him in the worst way possible." I swallowed hard, my voice shaky. "Apparently, Silus bullied Jared last year—quite severely, actually."

Her reaction wasn't shock—it was sheer indignation. "Silus turned out to be a bigger asshole than I thought. Bullying? Seriously? I know he lost his mum, but come on—you're both dealing with the same thing, and you're handling it like a pro."

"He adored Mum, but now I'm starting to wonder why he's so intent on digging his own grave."

Mila's frustration boiled over. "He slacked off in class, disrespected everyone, stole people's girlfriends, hung out with the worst crowd, bullied innocent people... What's his deal? I get he misses your mum, but why does he think making other people miserable is the solution?"

"Is there more going on with him than I realise?" I sighed wearily. "This isn't about Silus right now. What am I supposed to do about Jared? He's all smiles and friendly when he sees the real me, but the moment 'Silus' shows up, it's like he's ready to kill me. I'm genuinely scared."

She steadied my trembling hand with her own. "Consider me your bodyguard now. I'll be the cloak to your dagger, the avocado to your toast—wait, scratch that one. Basically, I've got your back like SPF100 sunscreen on a beach day."

"Please don't. People are already whispering about you and Silus planning a joint escape from history class."

She shrugged. "Let them talk. I care about their gossip as much as I care about memorising the periodic table. As long as Jared doesn't challenge you to a dance-off, we're golden."

I squeezed her hand firmly. "You're my best friend, which is exactly why I can't let you do that. I won't let you skydive into the disaster zone that is my life—unless you bring a parachute made of memes."

Our friendship was one of the few things I could rely on without question. I was determined to protect it, even if it meant facing Jared alone.