Silvia

It had been several days since Jared last visited Twinkle Toys. I'd grown so used to him popping in that his absence felt...wrong.

As I battled yet another dust bunny colony clinging stubbornly to the shelves, I caught myself thinking back to the rhythm we'd fallen into—his light jokes, the casual exchanges that made the hours slip by more pleasantly.

Somewhere between feather-dusting action figures and rearranging board games, I realised I missed him.

Each swipe of the duster, my mind invented increasingly dramatic reasons for his disappearance. Had I said something wrong? Had he finally realised I was a chaos magnet in human form? Or had he finally gotten banned by the mall cop?

By the end of my shift, I surrendered the duster with a sigh. My steps towards the exit felt heavier than they should've, my gaze glued to the floor in search of...what exactly? A stray coin? A misplaced miracle? Motivation?

That's when I saw the shoes. Familiar enough to make my heart trip over itself.

Jared.

The missing puzzle piece to my otherwise incomplete day. My chest lifted before my brain could tell it to behave, and a smile spread across my face like someone had drawn the curtains open, flooding everything with light.

"I thought you'd disappeared for good," I said, relief bubbling up.

But the expression staring back at me wasn't the Jared I knew. His face was carved with worry, his eyes sharp with something dangerously close to anger. The shift knocked the breath from me.

He skipped pleasantries. "I need you to tell me the truth, Silvia."

The words froze me mid-smile. "What truth?"

"Your brother, Silus..." His jaw tightened. "Have you been pretending to be him at school?"

I blinked. The floor wobbled. "What makes you think that?"

His hand shot out, finger pointing at the scab on my lip. "That. You got it from that prick who hit you at school, didn't you?"

Instinctively, my hand flew up to cover the cut. "That's ridiculous," I said, though even I could hear the crack in my voice.

"And I went to Rosecrest to check on you, but apparently, you're 'studying abroad'."

My heart skipped painfully. "J-Jared, I can explain—"

His patience shattered. "Why didn't you tell me from the start?!"

The sharp rise in his voice made me flinch. "Jared, p-please, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?" His voice cracked with frustration. "Do you have any idea how much guilt I've been drowning in? Knowing I've been hurting you this whole time?!"

Tears threatened, but I shoved them back. "I—I didn't mean to—I'm sorry!"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "For fuck's sake, Silvia!"

I froze. He never swore. Hearing it from him hit harder than a slap.

He spun on his heel, storming away, his footsteps heavy with fury. Panic ignited in me, and I lunged forward. "Wait! You didn't let me explain!"

I reached for his wrist, but he dodged me—shut me out completely—and kept going. I was left standing there, my world collapsing in silence.

My fingers fumbled with my phone. Dane. I needed Dane. Please pick up. Please.

The first ring barely finished before his voice came through. "Silvia, what's up?"

The sound cracked my composure. My voice came out shaky, uneven. "J-Jared...he found out."

"Found out what?"

I bit down hard on my lip. "He knows I'm pretending to be Silus at school."

"What?!" His voice spiked. "How?!"

"I don't know." I gnawed at my thumbnail. "He pieced it together somehow. And when I tried to explain, he didn't let me. He just...he just stormed off."

There was a long pause on his end before he groaned. "Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

"I don't know!" My voice rose, fraying with panic. "He's been acting so unpredictable, Dane. I barely recognise him anymore."

"Okay, slow down," he said, his voice like a hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out. First thing tomorrow, we'll talk to him at school. Together. Alright?"

I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing air back into my lungs. "Y-you're right."

"Good. Now get some rest, Silvia. You'll drive yourself mad if you don't."

When the call ended, the silence closed back in. But the storm inside me eased just enough. Dane had a way of doing that—untangling the knots in my chest, smoothing the jagged edges until I could breathe again.

***

A sleepless night had left me running on fumes, but sheer determination propped me up. If Jared was in this building, I was going to find him. No excuses, no detours—just a straight line to confrontation.

Or so I thought.

Instead of Jared, my eyes landed on Aiden slumped at his locker. Not exactly the heroic showdown I had envisioned. Something about the way he stared into the abyss of textbooks and snack wrappers gave me pause.

Aiden, our self-proclaimed Casanova, usually radiated smug charm. Today, he looked very...un-Aiden. Exhausted, to put it mildly. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and a faint redness marred one cheek. He looked as though he'd spent the night cramming for exams instead of charming his adoring fan base.

He caught me looking and fixed me with a blank stare. "Still not going to acknowledge me?"

I tilted my head. "What on earth are you talking about?"

A beat of silence, then he shrugged. "Never-mind."

I hesitated before asking, "Are you...okay?"

For a moment, it looked like he might actually answer honestly. Then he sighed and said, deadpan, "When you see Dane, tell him I'm off to recharge my charisma in the infirmary." His tone was so flat I couldn't tell if it was humour or an obituary.

Before I could decide, he shuffled off, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers. Aiden always seemed to exist in a world of his own—one with no map, no compass, and certainly no instructions for visitors.

My musings were interrupted by Dane, who came skidding into view like a car with faulty brakes. Hair windblown, shirt half-tucked, backpack dangling for dear life. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, completing the impression of someone who had run a marathon in flip-flops.

"What happened to you?" I asked, fighting a laugh. "Oversleep?"

"Yeah..." he wheezed, doubling over, words chopped up between gasps. "Stuff...at home...kept me up."

I gave his back a few tentative pats—awkward ones, the kind you'd use when trying to burp a baby.

Once he was upright again, still slightly wilted but breathing, he managed, "Alright, let's find Jared before homeroom."

So we searched, weaving through the crowd like rookie detectives chasing a lead.

Our 'investigation' eventually landed us in front of Axel and Noah, who were elbow-deep in scrubbing graffiti off the walls with all the desperation of someone trying to delete their browser history before their mum walked in.

They were in far worse shape than the last time we'd crossed paths. Gone were the mischievous grins and cocky swagger. In their place—sheepish resignation, uniforms smeared with questionable stains, and a new collection of bruises and scrapes decorating their faces and arms.

Dane, naturally, opted for tact. "Did they sign up to be professional punching bags or something?"

"I wouldn't rule it out," I murmured, waving a dismissive hand.

Before I could say more, movement across the hallway snagged my attention. My pulse kicked.

Jared.

Our eyes locked for the briefest, fragile second—then he spun on his heel and bolted like the building was on fire.

"Is he...playing hide-and-seek with us?" Dane muttered, scratching his head.

My chest tightened. "Looks like we're 'it'. If we don't tag him fast, he's going to disappear."

Jared sprinted, and we gave chase. Dane, with those absurdly long strides that clearly had a contract with physics I didn't, caught up in seconds. He grabbed Jared's shoulder, but momentum betrayed them both. They went crashing down in a heap of limbs and graceless groans.

By the time I caught up—breathless, wig sticking to my face in ways I didn't want to think about—they were sprawled on the floor, panting.

Dane shot Jared a look that straddled the line between amusement and exasperation. "Care to explain the sudden Usain Bolt impression?"

I stepped closer, ignoring the pounding of my own pulse. "Jared, please. You need to listen."

He wouldn't look at me. His jaw tightened. "If this is about me spilling your secret, don't worry. I won't."

"It's more than that." My voice cracked slightly, but I pressed on. "I want you to understand why."

I must've looked desperate—earnest enough to convince a fish to climb a tree. The silence stretched, unbearably heavy, until Jared finally exhaled and gave a reluctant nod.

The three of us ended up under the old oak tree out on the field. I told him everything. Every exhausting detail—Silus vanishing, me stepping into his life, the impossible balancing act.

When I finished, silence settled again, louder than the shouts of kids playing soccer nearby. Even the ball rolling across the field seemed more certain of its direction than our conversation.

Jared sat rigid, staring straight ahead as if trying to make sense of a puzzle with half the pieces missing. "So..." he said at last. "Silus bailed, and you've been covering for him this whole time so your dad doesn't have a meltdown?"

I squinted up at the sky, my fake glasses catching the sun and stabbing me in the eye. "That about sums it up."

He looked at me like I'd told him the sun revolved around the earth.

I tried to soften the weight with a crooked smile. "Trust me, I've had plenty of moments where I wondered if sacrificing my sanity was worth it. But I'm in too deep. If it all unravels now, my dad will erupt. Not really a blast I'm eager to witness."

He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Why did Silus have to be your evil twin?"

"He wasn't always this bad," I said with a sigh. "But lately, he's basically a pack of Beanboozled Jelly Beans—completely unpredictable and mostly awful."

The silence stretched again, brittle and suffocating.

Dane, bless his tactless optimism, piped up. "Now that you know, maybe you could...help out?"

Jared lifted his head but still wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'll just...pretend I don't know."

And then he stood and walked away. No fight, no demand, no promise. Just distance.

I didn't chase him. Couldn't. My body felt too heavy, my hope too fragile.

Dane tried to lighten the blow. "At least he's mastered the art of selective hearing."

I let out a weak laugh, more breath than humour, my eyes still fixed on Jared's retreating figure. There was something about the way he moved—stiff, mechanical—that gnawed at me.

Then I noticed his hands. Bruised. Fresh, angry bruises that hadn't been there yesterday.