Missconception

Chapter 8

Silvia

Concealed beneath the oversized guise of Rabbit-o, I stood outside Twinkle Toys, clutching a bouquet of balloons as if they were the last fragile threads of my rapidly fraying sanity. The bright colours seemed determined to serve as a cheerleading squad for my decidedly less optimistic thoughts, which were currently sulking in the darkest corner of my mind.

The encounter with Jared, while I had been impersonating Silus, had settled in my brain. His scowl had become the unwelcome centrepiece in a nightmarish performance my mind had decided to stage. It appeared he had rented out a penthouse suite in my head, and there were no plans for an early check-out.

As if fate itself delighted in irony, there he was—Jared, heading towards me with an exuberance that violently clashed with the villainous image I'd been diligently constructing. It was akin to witnessing Darth Vader skipping through a field of daisies, jazz hands included.

His enthusiasm bubbled over as he neared. "You wouldn't believe what I did a few days ago."

Beneath the stifling layers of fur and fabric, I tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "What might that be?"

"I finally stood up to that guy at school," he declared triumphantly. "You should've seen his face—he was terrified. Bullies always act tough until you push back."

The revelation nearly made me lose my grip on the balloons entirely. "Wait, bully?"

"Yeah, I never told you before. I guess I was too scared to admit it back then. I didn't want you to think I was...well, a coward."

My mind stalled, grappling with the sudden shift in narrative. Jared, afraid of appearing cowardly? The same Jared who once found a lost kitten and attempted to pass it off as a talking toy, only to get caught red-handed by the mall cop who wasn't buying the meows? No, this wasn't right at all. He wasn't the villain in this scenario. He was the victim—the well-meaning, slightly awkward victim who had been caught in the unfortunate web of my brother's mishaps.

I tried to convey the utmost sincerity, though the effect was likely diminished by the fact I was currently dressed as an anthropomorphic bunny. "You're no coward, Jared. If anything, you're more like...the wise sage of this whole story. You could have chosen the more reckless path, but instead, you chose the high road."

He glanced down at his sneakers, suddenly absorbed in the intricacies of his shoelaces. He nodded, more to himself than to me. "You're right," he murmured, as though attempting to convince himself of the fact.

I stood there, feeling the balloons sway gently, courtesy of some mysterious draft that had somehow found its way inside the mall. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on me—there I was, dressed as a giant rabbit, dispensing life advice to a boy who had no idea I was the sister of the one responsible for all his troubles. Yet, there was something oddly profound about the moment. Or perhaps it was just the lack of oxygen inside the costume clouding my judgment.

Regardless, one truth stood out in stark clarity—Jared was never the villain. That unfortunate title belonged to my brother, and the realisation hit harder than I anticipated.

Before I could dwell too long on this unsettling epiphany, our conversation was interrupted by a stampede of hyperactive children. They swarmed around me like I was the last toy on Black Friday, and in seconds, I was engulfed in a cyclone of tiny hands, wild eyes, and balloon-thieving chaos.

Jared, bless his heart, tried to bid me a proper farewell, but the situation devolved into an unintentional game of charades. I made a valiant effort to offer a graceful goodbye through a series of exaggerated bunny hops. Judging by his bewildered expression, it was unclear whether he interpreted my gestures as a fond farewell or an open challenge to a hopping contest.