*Charlie's P.O.V *

When I unlock Sydney's door, she appears desolate on her bed. She's looking into space. There is no pregnancy kit in sight.

"Charlie," she starts. I hide my trembling hands between my thighs, sitting beside her.

"Are you okay?" Her dead gaze darts to me.

I nod.

"Well, I'm not preg-nant -" There's a crack in her voice. I open my mouth to apologise, but she raises a hand to hush me. "I'm almost forty, for crying out loud."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." She breathes deeply. "Dan wouldn't make for a good father. Even... You listen more than him."

I touch her hand as she finalises," So, that's that."

"Don't worry; you'll be fine. You're Sydney, a star and scriptwriter, after all." I nudge her, teasing.

She rolls her eyes and grabs the pack of condoms. "I'm still keeping these. You can inherit them when you get married."

"They can't fit, but ok."

For three seconds, she gives me her most stupefied look before slapping my head. " Krypton! -"

"AW-" I wince." Sorry! Sure!" I scurry to the door and whirl to certify if she's just being jovial or what.

She scoffs, and then it dawns on her. "Aha, where were you? Why did you lock me in?"

I shrug. I haven't practised a coherent answer yet; my brain can still play tricks with me.

She considers my ghastly face and sighs, "Give me something, at least."

What's there to tell which won't endanger you? I ponder. Her brows furrow till I say, "Please, have I told you about the modelling...thing?"

Her frown doesn't fade. "Why would you want to model?"

"Ur, Halima's friend offered me the opportunity."

"I asked why would you -" She freezes.

I step forward. "Syd?"

"Leave."

I flinch. Her eyes turn to slits as she reiterates, "Leave."

"Ok...?" I oblige, though perplexed. Her door shuts before she laughs. She laughs like Sil. When the apparent reason dawns on me, I reach my room and push it to the back of my mind.

What matters is that she's okay. Perhaps I'm delusional. I should rest. I try to. I can't.

Enough of this. I get out. Nightmare-car is not outside. I set out on my board. I am a feather.

*
*

At the skatepark, I see his board in the air and run, only for his mate to land with it.

"Yo, Charlie?!" Roon pants. I halt, hoping the distance between us is enough for him not to realise my paleness.

"Leo told us you're ill," he says, "Are you better now?"

I shake my head. "Where is he?"

"He's dancing at some studio."

"Dancing?"

"I know, right?" Roon sighs at my confusion. "Sometimes, it's like: 'Yo, leave some talent for others!' Then other times, it's: 'Don't you wanna go home?' "

I frown. Fortunately, Roon cuts my trance with a suggestion. "Wanna go there?"

"Yes, please."

Roon snorts that, leading the way. We enter his car, and he drives us to a bustling multipurpose building twenty-eight minutes away. Inside, we ascend many stairs to reach a transparent wall. A foreign pop song echoes as I try to pinpoint Leo. Many dancers are moving and reversing on beat, and Roon is too excited; only their water break helps me spot him.

I bite a nail. Leo's guzzling his water so freely. The sweat clinging to his grey baggy shirt shows he is tired, but that aside, he looks fine. He's done. He's turning. He's gaping. He's gazing at me.

"Yo, come!" Roon waves, giddy. He motions for us to wait, then strides up to tell his instructor.

Before I know it, he's in front of us, "Hey."

"Yo, you just started, and you're already that good?! Charlie, can you believe this guy?"

I gasp, now realising he was the one we were watching for three minutes straight. His movements were more calculated than the Leo I know.

"Can Charlie and I talk in your car?" He asks.

Roon gives him his keys. I feel like screaming, but I wait until Leo enters the backseat after me.

"How are -"

"I'm going nuts!" I cut him off. He shuts his mouth.

"I don't ev-" I croak, "I d-d-don't even know wha-...what is real? And you're here dancing - I don't understand you - are you seriously ok with it?! Are you re- is anything real -"

"Charlie, calm down!" he pleads. I glare at him, and he smacks his back against the opposite car door, creating distance.

"I won't touch you." He looks me in the eye. I see nothing.

Nothing breaks me. My gaze darts outside for what to say or do. Then I calm down to say, "So, you are angry with me."

"No, what?" His brows crease. I tuck loose hair strands as his demeanour softens."No ... No, you won't get it."

WON'T GET IT?! I'm real. He shakes his head. I snatch the key, locking us in while he tries to take it back without touching me.

"Charlie, I'm sorry -" He starts, but I don't let him finish. I'm real.

"Sorry doesn't explain anything. I'm not asking because I want to be involved; I'm asking because you were the only person I've met who didn't hide me from his other friends or hurt me. I don't care about what your dad did. Whether or not I die, my hands are off it, but you! You were honest - you let me in till your father came, and why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I'm delusional? Well, the dead woman is real, right?"

I don't know what is worse, the fact that I sound numb or that he's looking at me like I'm dead. This is the reaction he was supposed to have.

"Right," he agrees. "My dad, well." Then he sighs like the world in his shoulder. " He killed her. He kills people, like for drug lords and stuff... I found out the very week of my team tryouts. I wasn't even interested in playing, but he was pushing me to go so much that I got suspicious. It was not like him to meddle in my life, I mean, I could be sleeping with thieves in our house, and he wouldn't move an inch. So, I went home instead and found something which got me more curious, and then, in the end, what did I find? He, slicing someone into pieces to store in our old fridge! I ... I would have grabbed Mom and fled immediately, but he saw me, and now he's all up in my business all the time and ... I got desperate for money to get us out once I turn 18, so I have been doing everything right and ... wrong. He came to the lakehouse because he thought I was misbehaving.
He's already blamed me for his recent sloppiness before. He even said that I'm the reason he has to kill more to earn more and clear my faults." Then he exhales. "But I am pretending because I don't want him to know you know. Right now, he has to lay low, but if he finds ... I'll have to kill him."

"No," I flounder," You can't do that. I don't want you - You can't ruin yourself for me." I grab his hand. "I'll make smarter decisions. I'll be safe. But you need to -" I pause, remembering the car outside my home. " - do what you feel is right at the moment. But don't become him."

There's a long pause.

"Ok. In that case." He stretches his hands. I sigh. He nods, and my gaze drops to the veins on his hands. I slip the keys into one palm, and he winces. His eyes, however, are determined to memorise my hair. I look up when he opens the door.

"The pictures. Did you send it for your competition?"

He nods again.

"And?"

He shrugs. " I won. Duh."

Instantly, a grin lights up my face. "I knew it."

"Knew because I used your face or?" He smirks.

I shake my head. "Because you are one of a kind."

"Charlie," he says. "You know how you make compliments like this with this smile; it's confusing."

"What's confusing about a known fact? It doesn't even have to do with your dad." I chuckle," You are one of a kind. And you can skateboard, photograph, dance, play ball, everything -"

He gets out, says, "Close your ears," and yells to his friend, who is now coming out with a giggling girl.

"ROON! COME AND TAKE HIM AWAY!"

"Yo, hold up!"

"ROON!"

"Why? Are you having an orgasm?! Stop yelling!"

"Tell him to stop reading smut. And yes, stop yelling," I speak for my poor ears. However, Leo is too red to hear. He starts moving, and I scold, "Hey, no violence," when Syd's phone starts ringing.

I am surprised to see an unknown number, given that Leo is chasing Roon.

"Hello?"

"You said I reminded you of someone. You want me to meet her." A woman speaks.

I flinch. She's real too.

*

*Mia's P.O.V *

"...By the way, what's wrong with him?"

"Who?"

"Charlie," Noah says, "Last I saw him, he was puking, but then he vanished."

"Not him behaving like he's the pregnant one - oh, shit."

"He's pregna- " Noah's eyes turn to saucers. " he's gotten someone pregnant?!"

"What is Shakespeare implying -" I try to distract my classmate, but he gasps, "Seriously?! "

"Shhh."

"But...like, how does he...?" Noah sticks a thumb through his fist. "I can't imagine it."

"Exactly." To think that he turned the tables and made me feel embarrassed for wondering. "What's more ironic is that he told me to watch less porn."

"That's everywhere anyway, so ... " Noah squints. "Mm ... He's a pow- are you sure it's a girl he has impregnated?"

"Who's he?"

Our necks snap to the speaker suddenly before us.

"C'mon, who?" Anna smirks.

I point at Noah only for him to do vice versa.

"Can she impregnate a girl? Wanker," she goads in her freshman accent. He flips her the bird.

"Ok," I say before they start a petty feud, "Anna, need help?"

"Na, she forgot she is in front cuz her 'special' row is becoming ass, huh?"

To that, Anna rests her side on my desk, blocking his face. "Mia, our biology project."

Oh crap! I fret inwardly. She shakes her head while I slouch to conjure a way out."Ok, ok, during recess -"

"We need more time than that. I know you're busy, but-" she interjects, "Noah, stop eavesdropping."

"Mmhph."

"What about tomorrow morning?"

"Na."

"Ok, free period."

"You don't have one today," I point out since I want answers from Autumn without getting late for rehearsal again.

"It's urgent, so I will make time," she says, "So, your free period?"

I mull for a moment, then sigh, "Sure."

"Ok and -"

"Mrs Peters is looking at you!" Noah hits her back. Instantly she stands while the teacher chuckles.

When my free period arrives, Anna and I discuss and write about bugs we don't like. We only pause because she receives a notification which makes her gasp.

"Anna, what?" I peek at her phone on impulse. The words - 'British' and 'accused' catch my eye before she shoots up.

"It's just a random article. Sorry. I've got to go."

"Ok?" Though confused, I let her grab her belongings. She promises to finish the project and exits the laboratory.

This girl is bizarre. I think, leaving too.

I approach the janitor's closet when Autumn's voice resonates through the door.

Joining her inside, I ask, "What did you find out?"

"My uncle gets the pills from a pharmaceutical company," Autumn says.

"So, they are legal?"

"Were," she corrects, "there was a spike in drug addiction cases, plus reports of side effects like paralysis, heart problems, some...dark stuff. So no, it's illegal, especially in Europe."

"And yet your uncle has them." I fold my arms.

She grunts, " That's not your business. Anyway, he doesn't know anyone with his exact name, and Lòre worked at 'All Night' club."

"Worked?"

"She's dead." Her tone drops.

I gulp, trying to hide my horror. "How?"

Autumn points two fingers at her head and then makes firey sounds. I can't believe it. It takes everything in me to remain composed. "Do ... you know why?"

"Obsessed client," she drawls. "Cops found her in his boot. The guy was even toasted with her in the car."

"Sorry," I say sympathetically. "No, seriously. That's... horrible. Urm ... but what is the name of the pharmaceutical company?"

" I'll write it down for you. "

*
*

When tomorrow comes, I reckon that I have to look into my dad's workplaces over the years in case one of them happens to be linked to the pharmaceutical company.

"Earth to Summers." Charlie's fingers snap me out of my trance. I meet his concerned gaze as he plops down. He asks me if I'm alright, and I shrug.

"Just pondering."

"That makes two of us." He takes out his books. Then his eyes dart back to me in slits as if an issue just popped up in his mind.

"You left something?" My brows crease.

He shakes his head. "Do you have a relative with the name Yeltsin?"

I frown. "Yes. How do you know?"

"Someone who resembles you came to my house," he states, skimming through textbook pages. My frown deepens.

"What's the name?" My curiosity is piqued now. He stops flipping pages to stare at me casually.

"Joe. Joe Yeltsin. "

I sit up. "Male or female."

"Female -"

"What?!" I exclaim. My hands start trembling. I don't know what to think. "What do you mean by she resembles me?!" I gasp, staring wide-eyed at Charlie.

"I don't know, but," he muses with a tone intended to ease my nerves."It could be a coincidence...or not. You should meet her first."

My pulse steadies. He tells me that he has her contact and will organise a meeting for us, and although that doesn't stop me from pondering over the millions of possibilities, I calm down.

Later, he finds me in the library and says, "She'll be free to meet you this Saturday."

I frown, doubting my emotional preparedness, but Charlie says, "It's way better to face the truth than fret in the dark."

By Saturday, I don't even know what a good night's rest means.

Whenever my eyes shut, a gazillion surmises bombard my head. Thankfully, when I said I needed Saturday off, everyone was cheering; hence, no rehearsal today.

The location Charlie is showing me is pretty far, so the moment a bus purrs at the stop closest to home, we run. We expel gratitude to the driver, beelining for the back.

I plop beside his bag before acknowledging his new black earmuffs and freshly polished red nails with a raised brow.

"Do I look ok?" Charlie frowns.

"Your nails," I say.

"I don't want to bite them," he mumbles.
That ends our interaction as I soon slip into oblivion.

When I awake, Charlie is praying. He pauses to give me a reassuring smile as if that was nothing to worry about.

The bus puffs to a halt at the same time. We, just like every other passenger, alight. After a stroll, our main destination - the Starbucks coffee shop we are supposed to meet her at - comes to view, and we walk through pedestrians.

"Is that her?" I utter, motioning to a woman with an auburn pixie cut reading a newspaper close to the transparent window. She is the only one sitting alone.

He analyses her features, then nods.

I gulp."... Holy Shit."

"Language," he mutters, but I am too lost to hear.

If she's my mother...
No, it can't be...
It shouldn't be...
Dad wouldn't lie about that.

"Dad wouldn't lie." I touch the door.

"He... wouldn't." I open it.

"He ... wouldn't." I walk forward.

"... He wouldn't."

"Pardon me?" She speaks as her face emerges from the newspaper.

I freeze. She squints at her coffee, barely nonplussed to see me standing across her table.

Crap. We do look alike.

It feels like we've been holding each others' gaze forever. She motions for me to take the seat facing her.

"Nice to meet you, Mia Summers, right?" She smiles. A nod is all I can manage.

There's an awkward pause again.

"Would you like something to drink? Maybe water?"

I shake my head. A sigh escapes her lips as if our conversation is exhausting; however, she doesn't pause.

"How's your father?"

"Dead."

"Oh." A bewildered look hits her face, only to vanish just as fast. "Do you have his picture?"

I nod. Her eyes burn into mine.

I yank a wallet from my jeans pocket. Opening it too hastily, I show her a picture of me and Dad kissing my diving medals. She glances at me before it.

I hold my breath.

"And here I thought, he gave you up."

Oh my...
She can't be...
This isn't happening...

"I gotta give him credit for that." She seems calm, unlike me. I will explode any moment from now if she doesn't let the cat out of the bag. Then, as if my misery isn't enough, she snaps out of her nostalgia to make this imperative inquiry,

"How was he before -"

"In prison. How do you know him?"

"Well, your dad's the "никто" who knocked up my twin sister."

"You are not my mother?!"

Her head shakes.

A bittersweet feeling immediately washes over me because - sure, it's a relief that Dad didn't lie, but it's also disappointing that my mom is indeed not alive.

"Listen," she mutters, observing my grimace. "I'm sorry if I got your hopes up with my name and face. Your dad knew our differences, though."

I nod. Dad wasn't lying... Good. "So, my mom. Tell me about her."

"Well, she was once a sports prefect in your school. She didn't like it there. She was bullied a lot."

I know all that already. "Was she a criminal?"

"Why would you think that?" Joe grimaces.

I shrug. "The same name." And the pills...

"Ah, that." Humour glimmers through her eyes. " It was my name when we first came to this country, but I left, so she took it. I guess she entered high school with it and then furthered her studies in pharmacy back in Moscow and -"

The moment I hear 'pharmacy', I yank out Autumn's note. I spread it out for her, and she reads it before shaking her head. "What's this for?"

"Is she connected to this pharmacy?"

"No."

"What about my dad?"

She nods. I sink into my seat, and she sighs, " Your dad was studying pharmacy like your mom, but he got the opportunity to work there, and I guess he was among some whistle-blowers there. He was framed for stealing some drugs, so he ran off to this country with your mom."

I think about what she's saying, relieved to know my dad was in the right. I wonder, "Urm, but how would he get to America-"

"I'm sorry, but we don't have that much time to delve into all that," she mumbles, putting her coffee down and deflecting completely, "so, how's life treating you?"

"Urr...Normal," I awkwardly mumble, and she, being the distant aunt who only saw me as a baby, implores me to go into detail.

Hence commences a casual conversation about my past with Dad. I tell her about the dive meets and Dad's music tastes and love for Tom Hanks. She listens. It's as if we're interacting in a mother-and-daughter bonding way, except for a few awkward moments. She seems relaxed as if all the time in the world to chat about teen stuff is to her avail - well until her phone commences beeping.

"Huh," she snarls after glancing at the screen, " someone has a death wish."

"You gotta go, don't ya?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Her eyes turn slightly gloomy until they dart to the door. I follow her gaze, and my brows crease at Charlie, reading from the newspaper stand outside.

"It's a shame such beauty will be going to waste."

Huh? I frown, but she chuckles, "I mean the balloons behind him. They'll burst in this sun."

A lopsided smile lifts her face as she sips more coffee. It should be lukewarm by now, but who knows her preferences? Maybe she likes her coffee lukewarm. I wonder if my mom also liked that.

"Anyway, I'll tell you more about your mom when we cross paths again." She gets up. As she walks out the door, Charlie waves at me.

"Was the meeting alright?"

"Ya. She had to go early, though," I quirk, arriving at his side. He smiles, but it's not the one that lights up everywhere. It's tired.

Maybe he's having a baby.

"Mia." He stops. "I'm afraid I can't be your tutor anymore."

"Oh." My shoulders fall.

He pulls out a heavy notebook from his bag. "You can still follow the targets, and I compressed questions and annotations regarding every topic for Chemistry and Geography since they were your lowest scores in the exam. I know you're busy, though, so don't be in a rush to finish it. "

"Finish it?" I snort. "Dude, I'm even wondering how I'll start it. You know I'm lazy."

"You're not," he says scoldingly. "And don't say negative stuff about yourself. You will do well. And I'll expect updates to make sure you do."

My eyes widen, gobsmacked, as he places the book in my hand. It's heavier than I expected, but before it can topple, he catches it.

"Spiderman reflexes." I chuckle. He blinks.

"Do you not know Spiderman?"

He shrugs, and I facepalm. "Dude, check your phone."

Eventually, this leads to me narrating all the Spiderman movies I've seen during our train ride back. Before we reach my stop, I say, "Hey, we still have a book war."

He shakes his head. "What war? I won."

I am about to say it's because he reads faster, but the doors open. "By the way, you'll be a great dad."

"Ok...?" He looks confused. "Why?"

"You walk like my dad, and my dad is great." As I exit, I see him still perplexed, so I trek with my arms flying freely.

"Please, this is not how I walk!" He gasps in horror.

"I can't hear you. " I beam at his face. His pretty face. I wave. "Goooodwill, Charlie!"