Missconception

Chapter 2

Silvia

Camila paced anxiously across the living room, her fingers tapping rhythmically against her lips. With all the urgency of a coach about to deliver a halftime pep talk, she marched over and grabbed my shoulders.

"Snap out of it, Silvy," she said, half-concerned, half-incredulous. "Do you seriously think your dad's gonna fall for this plan? He's not that gullible, right?"

I sighed. "You'd be amazed. This is the same man who once thought he won a yacht from a spam email. He spent three days planning a 'Boy Voyage' party."

She rolled her eyes so hard I feared they might get stuck. "I'm being serious! He'll think you've completely lost it. Remember when you convinced him you were allergic to doing the dishes?"

"Ah, yes. That glorious stretch of three weeks, dish-free, before he realised the truth," I grinned. "A stroke of genius, really."

"Yeah, genius until he made you scrub the whole house with a toothbrush as punishment."

"Minor details," I waved her off. "But fine, I'll admit this plan requires a bit more finesse."

Before she could argue further, the jingle of keys interrupted our conversation. Dad shuffled in, looking like a tired penguin returning from a long swim. His eyes scanned the room, hopeful in that way only Dad could be, as if Silus might miraculously appear behind the curtains. He even went so far as to check under the couch cushions, with the same fervour as a man who'd misplaced the TV remote five minutes before kick-off.

When his search yielded nothing but dust bunnies and misplaced optimism, he let out a heavy sigh. "Silus still hasn't returned..."

It wasn't as though I could be blamed for Silus' disappearance, but watching Dad—usually so full of energy—reduced to this shadow of himself left a knot forming in my stomach.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the suggestion I knew would either resolve our problems or make them infinitely worse. "Dad, I might have an idea to fix this," I said, doing my best to sound confident.

His eyes flickered, as though the faintest glimmer of hope had ignited. "What is it?"

"I know things have been...hard lately. You've been juggling so much to keep this whole circus from collapsing, but Silus never appreciated your acrobatic skills." I hesitated, knowing I was treading into risky territory. "I just want things to feel normal again. Like when Mum was the ringmaster, and everything didn't feel so chaotic."

Dad blinked, clearly taken aback—either by the mention of Mum or the fact I was equating our lives to a circus. I could see his mind working, trying to process the absurdity while grasping for any solution that might make this mess better.

"I want to help," I continued, swallowing the nervous energy that threatened to crack my composure. "Even if it means...living as Silus."

The silence that followed was so heavy, I swore even the dust bunnies were holding their breath. Camila, sensing the brewing storm, edged towards the wall, trying to blend into the wallpaper. It wasn't her moment to intervene, and she knew it.

Dad's lips twitched, as if forming words had suddenly become an Olympic sport. "W-what kind of nonsense are you spouting?"

I forced myself to hold his gaze, though it felt as though I was staring directly into the sun. "I'll tell my school I'm studying abroad. They just need your permission. Then, I'll disguise myself as Silus and attend his school until he returns."

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage the absurdity out of existence. "Silvia, this isn't a sitcom. We can't just swap lives and expect everything to magically work out."