Silvia

It had been several days since Jared last graced Twinkle Toys with his presence. As I waged my ongoing battle against the ever-persistent dust bunnies clinging to the shelves, my thoughts strayed to the days when his visits were as reliable as clockwork. We had fallen into a rhythm—our casual exchanges, his light jokes that made the hours slip by more pleasantly. Even the most tedious of tasks felt less burdensome when he was around.

With each sweep of the duster, I couldn't help but wonder what had prompted his sudden disappearance. Had I inadvertently offended him? Or perhaps, far more plausibly, he had been abducted by an army of disgruntled teddy bears demanding a more prominent shelf placement.

I missed his polite demeanour, and that effortless smile of his—the one that had an uncanny ability to make even the dreariest of stockroom duties seem tolerable. Now, in his absence, the silence echoed louder than the clatter of toy trains and rubber ducks. It was unnerving how much space his absence seemed to occupy.

As the final minutes of my shift dwindled, I surrendered my duster with a sigh of defeat. Each step towards the exit felt oddly sluggish, as though my feet were trudging through quicksand. My gaze drifted downwards, absently scanning the floor for a stray coin or, ideally, a long-lost sense of motivation. Just as I was about to give up, a pair of familiar shoes appeared in my line of sight.

Jared.

There he stood, the missing piece to the puzzle of my otherwise incomplete day. My heart lifted before I could even comprehend why, and a smile spread across my face, as if someone had drawn back the curtains on a dreary day, flooding the room with sunlight.

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

But his expression—worried, tense, and entirely unexpected—brought the moment to a halt. It was like misjudging a step on a staircase, only to find yourself suddenly flailing for balance. The shift in mood was jarring.

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

My smile faltered. "What truth?"

"Your brother, Silus..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing. "Have you been pretending to be him at school?"

I blinked, taking an instinctive step back. "What makes you think that?"

He pointed directly at the small scab on my lip. "That. You got it from that prick who hit you at school, didn't you?"

My hand shot up to cover the cut as though I could somehow erase its existence. "That's ridiculous," I replied weakly.

"And I went to Rosecrest to check on you," he continued, "but apparently, you're 'studying abroad'." He even used air quotes, complete with a raised eyebrow that suggested he knew more than I thought.

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

His patience cracked entirely. "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 broke with frustration. "Do you even understand how much guilt I've been drowning in? Knowing I've been hurting you this whole time?!"

"I—I didn't mean to—I'm sorry!"

He raked his fingers through his hair. "For fuck's sake, Silvia!" He turned on his heel to leave, his footsteps heavy with anger.

I froze, stunned. I had never heard him swear before. Panic surged, and I lunged forward, my words tumbling out in desperation. "Wait! You didn't let me explain!"

I reached for his wrist, but he dodged my hand and stormed away. I was left standing there, my thoughts as scattered as the dust I'd spent all afternoon fighting.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialled Dane. I silently prayed he would answer.

To my immense relief, his voice came through on the first ring. "Silvia, what's up?"

My voice came out shakier than I intended. "J-Jared...he found out."

"Found out what?"

I bit my lip, the words lodging uncomfortably in my throat before finally escaping. "He knows I'm pretending to be Silus at school."

"What?! How?!" His voice crackled with alarm.

"I don't know," I admitted, gnawing at my thumbnail—a habit I thought I'd outgrown. "But he pieced it all together somehow."

"Did you try explaining?"

"I didn't even get the chance. He stormed off before I could say a word."

Dane let out a low groan. "Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, my voice rising in pitch. "He's been acting so...unpredictable. I barely recognise him anymore."

"Okay, slow down," he said, his calm voice cutting through the noise in my head. "We'll figure this out. First thing tomorrow, we'll talk to him at school. Together, alright?"

I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my chest to steady my hammering heart. "Y-you're right."

"Good. Now, get some rest, Silvia."

As I ended the call, a wave of relief washed over me. Dane had a way of untangling the mess in my head, smoothing jagged edges of my nerves with just his voice.

***

A sleepless night had left me utterly drained. Yet, the determination to confront Jared provided a jolt of energy—almost as if I'd consumed an entire pot of coffee in one reckless sitting.

As I navigated the bustling hallways, my eyes scanned the crowd in search of him. Jared. My singular goal. Instead, my gaze landed on Aiden, who stood slumped by his locker. Not quite the encounter I was hoping for. But something about the way he stared into his lockers caught my attention.

Against my better judgment, I approached him. He turned his head towards me, and for the first time, I noticed how...un-Aiden he looked. Exhausted, to put it mildly. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and a faint redness marred one cheek. The ever-composed, always-dashing Aiden—our resident Casanova—looked as though he'd spent the night cramming for exams instead of charming his adoring fan base.

He studied me with a blank expression. "Still not going to acknowledge me?"

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

He stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. "Never mind."

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

He paused, as if weighing whether to bother with a response, and finally said, "When you see Dane, tell him I'm off to recharge my charisma in the infirmary." His tone was so flat, so devoid of its usual charm, that I couldn't tell whether he was serious or making a bizarre attempt at humour.

Before I could reply, he strolled away, leaving me standing there, thoroughly baffled. Aiden always seemed to exist in a world of his own—one with no map, compass, or even the vaguest sense of direction for the rest of us.

Dane came skidding into view, his hands braced on his knees as he gasped for air. His hair looked as though it had been styled by a hurricane, his shirt was only half-tucked, and his backpack dangled off one shoulder, hanging on 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, struggling to suppress a laugh. "Did you oversleep?"

"Yeah..." he wheezed, each word broken by laboured breaths. "Stuff...at home...kept me up."

I gave his back a few encouraging pats, though the motion felt awkward—more like I was attempting to burp a baby than helping a friend recover.

He straightened, but he still looked a little worse for wear. "Alright, let's find Jared before homeroom starts."

Once Dane had recovered enough to walk without looking like he might collapse, we began our search for Jared, combing the hallways with the persistence of detectives chasing a lead.

Our investigation eventually brought us to Axel and Noah, who were elbows-deep in what could only be described as an unholy cleanup task. They scrubbed at the grime on the wall with a desperation usually reserved for erasing a bad browser history.

As we drew closer, it became clear they were in far worse shape than the last time we'd crossed paths. The impish glints that usually danced in their eyes had dimmed, replaced by sheepish resignation. Their uniforms, once passable, were now streaked with stains of dubious origins. Fresh bruises and scrapes adorned their faces and arms, painting an unmistakable picture of yet another ill-advised scuffle—one they had clearly lost.

Dane, in his usual tactless fashion, blurted out, "Did they sign up to be professional punching bags or something?"

"I wouldn't rule it out," I replied, waving a hand dismissively.

Before we could delve further into Axel and Noah's sorry state, movement across the hallway drew my attention. Jared.

Our eyes met for the briefest moments before he turned on his heel and bolted down the corridor, as though his shoes had suddenly caught fire.

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

My heart clenched with worry. "It looks like we're 'it'. If we don't tag him soon, he's going to vanish."

Jared sprinted further down the hallway, and we took off after him. Dane, whose absurdly long strides defied all logic, caught up to him in no time. He grabbed Jared's shoulder in an attempt to stop him, but momentum had other plans. Both of them went crashing to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs, bruised egos, and—undoubtedly—a few regrets.

By the time I caught up, breathless and feeling far less composed than I would have liked, the two of them were sitting on the floor, panting from the chase.

Dane shot Jared a look that was equal parts amused and perplexed. "Care to explain the sudden Usain Bolt impression?"

I stepped closer, determined not to lose the moment. "Jared, you need to listen to me. Please."

He avoided my gaze, his jaw tightening. "If this is about me telling anyone your secret, I won't."

"It's more than that," I said, pushing the panic aside. "I want you to understand why I've been doing this."

I fixed him with a look so earnest, it could have persuaded a fish to climb a tree. The silence stretched on, awkward and heavy, as if we were locked in a staring contest I hadn't agreed to. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, Jared nodded.

The three of us found refuge beneath the shade of an old oak tree on the school field. I took my time explaining everything to Jared—how I'd been living a double life as Silus, and how my brother had performed a disappearing act Houdini himself would envy.

When I finally finished, the silence that followed was excruciating. In the distance, students played soccer with a fervour that made it seem like their futures depended on the outcome. Meanwhile, the ball appeared to have more direction than our conversation. The leaves rustled softly above us, as if nature had decided to underscore the awkwardness with a poetic touch.

Jared sat motionless, staring ahead as though trying to untangle the web of confusion I'd just spun. "So, let me get this straight," he said at last. "Silus disappeared, and you've been impersonating him this whole time to keep your dad from...having a meltdown?"

I tilted my head back, squinting at the sky. My fake glasses caught the sunlight, temporarily blinding me. "Pretty much," I muttered.

When I glanced back at Jared, his expression resembled that of someone being told the sun revolved around the earth. Hoping to dispel the tension, I added, "I know, it's a lot to take in. Believe me, I've had plenty of moments where I've questioned whether sacrificing my sanity for Silus' drama was worth it. But here I am, too deep in the act to back out now. If I let it all fall apart, my dad will probably erupt like a volcano. Fun times, right?"

He let out a groan and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. "Why did Silus have to turn out to be your evil twin?" he questioned, his voice muffled.

"He wasn't always this bad," I replied with a weary sigh. "But lately, he's become like a box of Beanboozled Jelly Beans—unpredictable and making me regret all my life choices."

Another silence settled over us, heavy and oppressive, the kind that made you wonder whether reviving the conversation was worth the effort or if it was better to let it die a quiet, dignified death.

Dane, ever the optimist, tried to lighten the mood. "Now that you know the whole story, maybe you could lend a hand?"

Jared sat up, still avoiding my gaze. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried his discomfort. "I think I'll just...play dumb."

Without another word, he stood and walked away, leaving us in his wake. I watched him go, the weight of the morning's revelations pressing down on me. The idea of chasing after him didn't even cross my mind—I didn't have the energy.

Dane tried to inject some levity. "Hey, at least he's mastered the art of selective hearing."

I let out a soft, humourless laugh, my gaze still fixed on Jared's retreating figure. Something about the way he moved—stiff and almost mechanical—caught my attention. My eyes drifted down to his hands, and that's when I noticed them.

Bruises. Stark against his skin, fresh and angry. They hadn't been there yesterday.

It looked as though his fists had gone a few rounds with a brick wall. Odd, unsettling even, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.