Camila

I stood by the school gates after the bell rang, and for some reason, my feet had decided to go on strike. Like, full-on "no walking for you" rebellion. My legs were glued down by some invisible force, staging a protest I definitely didn't authorise.

Around me, the school scene was pure chaos—teenage drama, gossips, and absolutely zero cares given. Meanwhile, I was starring in my own silent movie. Cue the dramatic close-ups, and maybe throw in a slow-motion hair flip for flair.

I'd seen Silvy earlier in the cafeteria, pulling off her twin-swapping act like she was born for it. Seriously, she was on fire. But there was something off, like...major sad-girl vibes radiating from her. I swear, I could hear her brain belting out an opera of stress.

Of course, "Silus" couldn't exactly come up to me without raising suspicions taller than the school flagpole. Watching her strut out of the cafeteria alone hit me harder than a mystery meat surprise—deeply unsettling, with an aftertaste of "what the heck just happened?"

The rest of the day had been a total Silvia-free zone. It was like I'd lost my partner-in-crime, leaving me with nothing but an empty lunch tray, half a pickle, and zero entertainment. And let me tell you, that pickle wasn't exactly brimming with conversation. Honestly, if it had started talking, I probably would've nodded along. My day was that weird.

With a heavy sigh, I finally convinced my rebellious feet to move, ready to stage my grand escape from this school. As I was about to step out, someone called my name like they were chasing after a runaway chicken.

I spun around, one foot hanging mid-air like some half-hearted ballerina. And who was marching straight towards me? None other than Principal Cronin himself, looking like he was leading a parade of seriousness in my direction. His face was so stern, I couldn't tell if I was about to get hit with the lecture of a lifetime or if he needed me to help solve his Rubik's Cube. Personally, I was banking on the lecture. If it came down to puzzle-solving, I'd just arrange the colours into "abstract frustration."

I slammed my foot back down, trying to act like I totally had my life together. Spoiler alert: I absolutely did not. Now I was standing there, awkward as ever, waiting to see what kind of bombshell the big cheese was about to drop on me.

"Good morning, Sir," I greeted with all the confidence of someone who'd realised they were in the wrong time zone.

Cronin didn't even acknowledge my confusion of time. Nope, straight to business. "Are you friends with Silus?" His serious face made the question ten times more ridiculous, and I had to fight the urge to laugh out loud.

Was this real life? Was I actually being interrogated about Silus by the most world's most deadpan principal? It felt like I was being grilled by a detective who was secretly moonlighting as a clown.

I waved it off, hoping to put this weird conversation to bed. "No way, Sir. Silus and I are about as compatible as toothpaste and orange juice."

He nodded. Slowly. Painfully slowly. His face was so blank, I half-expected a pigeon to land on his shoulder, mistaking him for a statue. "Very well," he said. "If you happen to witness any...unusual events involving Silus, please inform me immediately."

I bit my tongue to keep from cracking up. "Will do," I said, nodding like this was the most normal conversation ever. "I better head home now. See you on the flip side, Sir."

I literally ran out of there, and the second I was out of his sight, I let out the biggest sigh of relief. Dodging Cronin's interrogation felt like escaping a high-speed car chase.

But seriously, that poker face of his? It messed with my head worse than trying to do long division after a nap. Was this some kind of trap? Was he secretly a mind reader? Or, even worse—had he cracked Silvy's secret twin switcheroo? Every step away from him felt like I was tiptoeing through a field of live grenades, just waiting for one to go off and take me down.

I made a mental note to tread lightly for the next few days, like a spy in enemy territory. Silent, sneaky, and ready to duck and roll if Cronin so much as raised an eyebrow in my direction. Because let's face it, this man wasn't just a principal. No, he was basically the James Bond of principals—licensed to educate and armed with a briefcase full of detention slips. Knowing my luck, one of those slips had my name on it.

On my usual route home, I spotted Silvy up ahead—thankfully not in Silus mode, but back to her regular, ridiculously stunning self. I bolted towards her like she was holding the last slice of pizza on earth, my hunger for our typical banter rivalling my craving for a greasy, cheesy slice of heaven.

I skidded to a stop in front of her, hands on my knees, clutching my chest like I'd outrun a herd of turtles. "Five-second sprint...completely wiped," I wheezed, panting so hard I could've fogged up a window.

Normally, this would be prime roast territory for Silvy. She'd be throwing shade at my pathetic stamina, and I'd be rolling my eyes while laughing. But today? Crickets. Not a single snarky comment. Silvy not roasting me? That's like spotting a unicorn dancing with a griffin—straight up doesn't happen.

I glanced up at her, and she had this look on her face like she'd remembered she forgot to feed her pet rock for three days straight. Something was definitely up. Either she had a total meltdown at school, or she was knee-deep in the trenches of the most soul-crushing dilemma known to humanity: noodles or rice for dinner. I could see her inner monologue playing out, and I needed to get the scoop.

"My dearest friend," I said, layering on enough over-the-top warmth to melt a glacier, hoping to snap her out of whatever funk she was drowning in. "Where've you been all day? You were harder to find than Waldo."

"Obviously, you can't be seen hanging out with 'Silus'," she deadpanned, looking as cheerful as a dentist's waiting room.

"Okay, but seriously, what happened? You look like someone stole your cookie and stomped on it for fun."

She let out a sigh so deep it probably registered on the weather radar. "I spent the entire day avoiding Aiden."

Hearing his name? Instant rage mode. My fists clenched like I was ready to throw hands. "Why?" I huffed. "Was he bothering you? Is his 'Silus hate' just a cover for his secret crush? Should we start planning their wedding? I'm not wearing pink."

"I think he figured out I'm a girl."

"WHAT?!" My jaw unhinged itself and hit the pavement. "That Casanova wannabe! You can't blow your cover already! I haven't even started placing bets on how long it'd take for someone to figure it out yet!"

She sighed again. "I denied it as much as I could, but I don't think he bought it."

I struck my best superhero pose—hands on hips, chest puffed out, chin high—ready to lead us into battle. "Fear not! We won't let him ruin our master plan. Time to kick it into high gear—double the disguises, double the mischief."

Her eyes dropped to the ground, and it was like she'd given up on ever having a normal day. "I can't deal with him right now. Duty calls. I'll see you tomorrow, Camila."

She scurried off, leaving me standing there in the middle of the path like some inconveniently placed traffic cone. People passed by, throwing me side-eye glances you'd reserve for someone holding up the coffee shop line. Sorry, folks, didn't mean for my personal crisis to mess with your smooth-sailing lives.

But here's the kicker—Silvy had called me by my actual name. Not the usual "Mila." And that's when I knew this was serious. Like, she'd traded her usual clown shoes for lead boots and was now slogging through the quicksand of emotional doom. And that? That was not my best friend. Not even close.

Come on, we were practically joined at the hip. I knew her like the back of my hand—she hated feeling like a burden. She'd rather wrestle a bear than drag me into her twin-switch catastrophe. Especially since I'd prefer swimming with piranhas than get anywhere near the "Silus romantic scandal" vibe that seemed to be brewing.

So, there I was, feeling about as useful as a chocolate teapot in a sauna. My best friend was knee-deep in drama, and she needed me. Not to save the day or anything, but at least to toss in some sassy comebacks and maybe roll up with an oversized coffee to help her tackle the madness.

I shook my head, trying to rattle some sense into my brain. I wasn't about to sink into a sea of self-pity. Nah, I'd rather surf the waves of it—rubber duck in one hand, snorkel in the other, riding the emotional tidal wave like the unbothered queen I was.

With my warrior spirit fully ignited, I set off for home, already scheming a million ways to rescue Silvy from whatever twin-related disaster she was currently in. The sun above was doing its best to turn me into a human kebab, but nothing—nothing—was going to melt my resolve. Unless I stepped in surprise sidewalk poop. Other than that, I was unstoppable.

As I strutted down the sidewalk, mentally drafting my next genius move, something caught my eye. Tacked up on a nearby telephone pole was a missing person poster, and who else was staring back at me but Silus himself—frozen in time in a photo so ancient, it looked like it'd been taken when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Seriously, he looked like he belonged in a museum exhibit labelled, "Early Human Idiots."

Just seeing his smug, long-lost face made my blood boil. His stupid disappearing act was the reason Silvy got roped into this never-ending chaos. If he hadn't pulled a Houdini for who-knows-why, his family wouldn't be stuck playing the world's longest, most exhausting game of hide-and-seek.

I've known the twins since we were ten—back when Silus was just your average, goofy idiot. Annoying? Absolutely. But in that tolerable, puppy-who-chews-your-shoes way. He'd pull some dumb stunt, you'd roll your eyes, and then he'd flash that stupid grin, and you'd forgive him like the sucker you were.

But now? Now, he'd reached a level of exasperation so high it made me want to pelt him with baboon poop every time he walked by in the hallway. And trust me, that's saying something.

I get it—his whole "transformation" thing kicked off after their mum passed away, and yeah, grief did weird things to people. But this? This was like watching Patrick Star try method acting as Freddie Krueger and refusing to break character. His whole personality shift had everyone scratching their hands, wondering if the Silus we knew had been abducted by aliens or just decided to hate the entire planet.

The longer I stared at that dumb face on the poster, the more my frustration bubbled over. Before I even realised it, my hand was already digging through my backpack. Out came my trusty marker, and with a mischievous grin, I was ready to work my magic. "Missing, huh? Not for long, buddy."

A few quick strokes later, and Silus had the glow-up he never knew he needed. A toothbrush moustache, a goatee, and a pair of oversized round spectacles—voila. I took a step back to admire my masterpiece. Honestly, even his own reflection would disown him at this point.

Then I noticed it—the street was plastered with more of those tragic missing posters. A whole lineup of his idiocy, just begging for my creative touch. And who I was to deny the call of artistic destiny? Maybe my sheer brilliance would lure Silus out from wherever he was hiding—if only to demand I stop turning his serious missing posters into the town's newest comedy attraction.

Silus might be missing, but at least his face was finally doing something useful. Bringing joy to the people? That's a service to the community.

So yeah, you're welcome, everyone. Camila, out.