part of something real—a family that didn't need stunts or chaos to have fun together.

The living room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan spinning lazily in the corner. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm golden glow on the room, which was scattered with the usual clutter: half-empty snack bowls, discarded shoes, and books strewn carelessly across the coffee table.

Phoebe, curled up on the couch, was sound asleep, her body wrapped in a cozy blanket with one arm dangling off the side. Her phone was tightly gripped in her hand, her knuckles white from the strength of her hold. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, oblivious to the chaos that Max was about to cause.

Max, crouching behind the couch, eyed Phoebe's phone like a hawk. His fingers twitched, his mind already calculating the perfect way to get his hands on it. He had a plan, and he wasn't going to let anything—or anyone—stop him.

"Teen girl, cellphone, dead grip," Max muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing with focus. With a smirk, he reached out with his telekinesis, willing the phone to lift from Phoebe's hand. The phone shifted slightly, but Phoebe's grip tightened in her sleep, making it nearly impossible for Max to get a good hold.

Sighing in annoyance, Max tried again. This time, he made a more forceful effort, using his telekinesis to tug harder at the phone. But Phoebe's hand didn't budge an inch. Max was about to give up when, in a stroke of luck, Phoebe's arm flopped off the couch and hit the coffee table with a soft thud. Her phone shifted just slightly, enough for Max to sneak a little closer.

A devilish grin spread across his face. This was it. He crept behind her, making his move.

He stretched out his hand, reaching for the phone again. But Phoebe, still deep in her slumber, stirred, her arm knocking over a nearby magazine. She mumbled something incoherent but didn't wake up. Max froze, heart pounding, unsure whether she was about to open her eyes. But, thankfully, she didn't.

Max quickly snatched the phone, but the grip was still too tight. He groaned in frustration. That's when an idea hit him.

With a sly smirk, Max gently swapped the phone for a sandwich sitting idly on the coffee table. The sandwich—still wrapped in a napkin—was the perfect decoy. He set Phoebe's phone down just out of her reach, taking a moment to savor his small victory.

"Time for the Epic Faillerina to buy me my island," Max whispered to himself, tapping his fingers on the sandwich with excitement. "Uploading Phoebe's fall to my Chirper page."

Max pulled out his own phone, ready to upload the video. His grin widened as he saw the video of Phoebe's fall, the one from earlier, ready for the world to see. He tapped away, securing the footage with the click of a button.

"Rubbing Phoebe's phone in my armpit," Max said with a mischievous glint in his eye. Slowly, he pressed the phone to his armpit, savoring the victory and the ridiculousness of it all. He chuckled to himself, feeling a little too proud of his antics.

The phone in his hand switched places with the sandwich, and Max took a moment to relish the satisfaction of a clean getaway. He shoved the sandwich into his mouth, the sauce dripping down his shirt.

Max paused, his eyes widening in horror at the mess he had just made. "Clean-ish," he muttered, wiping sauce from his shirt with his sleeve, still grinning as if this was all part of the plan.

He took another bite, chewing slowly, feeling the weight of the prank lift from his shoulders. The thrill of pulling off something so perfectly executed made him feel almost untouchable.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard the faintest sound coming from the hallway. It was a soft thud, then the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps. His eyes widened in surprise.

From the corner of the room, Melanie entered the scene, looking as though she had just woken up. She was dressed in her ballet gear, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she had that unmistakable tired look about her—the kind of exhaustion that only comes from hours of practice.

She caught sight of Max, standing there with a sandwich in hand and sauce all over his shirt. She arched an eyebrow. "Max," she said, her voice calm but with a hint of amusement. "What did you do?"

Max froze, caught mid-escape, a piece of lettuce hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Uh, nothing. Just... um, having a snack. You know, keeping things light."

Melanie crossed her arms, studying him with an almost judgmental expression. "A snack? With Phoebe's phone in your armpit?"

Max's eyes widened, and he quickly shoved the sandwich behind his back. "What? No! I was just—uh, well—let's just say, it's for Maxlandia."

Melanie let out a deep sigh, clearly done with his antics. "Max, you really need to stop. You're lucky Phoebe hasn't woken up yet. And what do you think will happen when she finds out you've been messing with her phone?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mel. It's just a harmless prank. What's the worst that could happen?"

Melanie raised an eyebrow, her voice steady. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe Phoebe will hunt you down with her ballet slippers? You've seen her temper. Besides, it's kind of pathetic. You're better than this."

Max blinked, a flicker of guilt creeping into his expression. "I'm just trying to make something big happen. You know, get noticed."

Melanie sighed, stepping closer to him. "You don't need to do this, Max. You're already noticed. But messing with people—especially Phoebe—won't get you the attention you're looking for. It'll just make you look like a jerk."

Max looked down, feeling a strange sense of shame creeping up on him. "I guess... I didn't think it through."

"Yeah," Melanie said with a soft smile. "Maybe it's time to think a little more, huh?"

Max smiled sheepishly, realizing that maybe it was time to leave the pranks behind. With a reluctant sigh, he dropped the sandwich and gently placed Phoebe's phone back on the coffee table.

"Alright," Max said, looking at Melanie. "I'll stop. For real this time."

Melanie gave him a gentle, knowing smile. "Good. Now, why don't you help me get some real sleep? I'm exhausted after that rehearsal."

Max laughed, relieved. "You got it. I'll even bring you a snack that's not a prank."

As they left the living room together, the tension between them eased. Max, for the first time in a while, felt like maybe, just maybe, he could do something better than his pranks—something that would actually get people to notice him for the right reasons.

The halls of Hiddenville High were buzzing with energy as students gathered around, their eyes glued to the screen of a phone held by one of the boys. Laughter filled the air, and the unmistakable sound of a video replaying echoed down the corridor. It was Phoebe's "epic fail"—the one that had gone viral after Max posted it on his Chirper page.

Phoebe and Max walked into the school, both oblivious to the chaos they were about to step into. Phoebe had her head held high, pretending not to notice the whispers and pointed fingers, though her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

Gideon was the first to spot her, his face breaking into a smug grin. He approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Phoebe. I saw your video on Chirper. Quiet-up performance."

Phoebe gave him a tight smile, her eyes briefly flickering to Max before she responded, "Oh, oh. Thanks." She then turned to Max with a sly smirk, "Looks like my post is ahead."

Max chuckled, his smugness only growing. "Yeah, a real smash. Hopefully a million people will see it."

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "You better get your tickets to my show tomorrow night, Gideon."

"Sure in," Gideon replied with a wink, his voice filled with mock enthusiasm. "I can't wait to see 'break a leg.'"

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, but 'break a leg' for fitter folks. To a dancer, it's kind of creepy, especially when you make that face."

Gideon did a mock, exaggerated smile at her, and then walked away, clearly enjoying the interaction a little too much.

Max grinned at Phoebe, his arms crossed over his chest. "Your first fan. Looks like you became a star before you made your big debut. You're welcome."

Phoebe's lips curled into a reluctant smile, but her voice was calm as she replied, "I'm not a star, Max. I'm just Phoebe, the same humble sister you've always known." She tossed her bag at him, not even waiting for him to catch it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my fans are waiting."

As she spun on her heel and began to dance, the students around them pulled out their phones, eager for Phoebe to mess up again. Max watched her dance, a knowing smirk still plastered on his face. The students were clearly hoping for her to fall, but Phoebe's movements were smooth and graceful—she didn't stumble, not this time.

Gideon, not one to be deterred, called out with an exaggerated flourish, "That's it! Fall for Gideon!"

Phoebe finished her routine, flawlessly landing the last move. The students around her groaned in disappointment. "Ohhh."

Phoebe grinned at them, unfazed. "Don't worry. I'll get the full show on Saturday."

Max handed her the bag back, and she made her way to the ballet room, her head held high. As she entered, she found Madame Gigi waiting for her.

"Congratulations, Madame Gigi," Phoebe said, rushing over to kiss her on both cheeks in excitement.

Madame Gigi pulled back slightly, her expression both amused and slightly uncomfortable. "Bonjour, Phoebe. Okay, too much touching."

Phoebe, not noticing the discomfort, smiled brightly. "Sorry! I'm just so excited! It's our last rehearsal before the big show."

"Yes, this show is sold out," Madame Gigi said, her face glowing with pride. "The girls say it's because of your video."

Phoebe gasped, her eyes wide with excitement. "Sold out? That's so awesome! They'll be sitting in the mobby when I become... The Swan." She started to dance again, a light and graceful pirouette that showed just how prepared she was.

But Madame Gigi quickly cut her off, shaking her head. "No, no, Phoebe. Mathilda will become The Swan."

Phoebe blinked, confused. "Mathilda?" She looked to see the girl holding a red tablet and nearly stumbled in shock. "You're saying I'm not going to be The Swan? You want Mathilda to be The Swan?"

Madame Gigi nodded firmly. "Wee. You'll ruin my show. As you're the one who falls and breaks things, you know?" She clapped her hands, and Mathilda handed her the tablet, clearly enjoying the exchange.

Phoebe's heart dropped as she processed the words. "Epic Faillerina?" She raised her hand, gesturing to the video on Madame Gigi's screen—the one where Phoebe lost her balance, fell, and sent a TV crashing on top of her. "Yeah, that's me, but I didn't fall. Well, I did fall, but how did it even...?"

Phoebe's eyes narrowed in realization. "Max!!" She grabbed her bag from the table and stormed out of the ballet room, heading straight for her brother.

Max was leaning against the lockers, chatting with a few students, looking relaxed. He didn't notice Phoebe approaching until she pushed a guy out of the way with a force that made him stumble.

"There's the swan princess," Max quipped, leaning back on the lockers. "Well, aren't you the angry bird?"

Phoebe slammed a locker shut in frustration. "The Epic Faillerina? You turned me into The Epic Faillerina?!"

Max just shrugged. "I turned you into a Chirper sensation and helped you sell out your stupid ballet show."

Phoebe's anger flared, but she tried to hold it back. "Oh, you mean the ballet show I was kicked out of because you turned me into THE EPIC FAILLERINA?!"

As they argued, Gideon appeared again, leaning casually against the lockers. He gave a wave to a boy next to him. "It's cool, she knows me. We're practically dating," he added with an exaggerated grin before turning back to Phoebe. "Phoebe, could you take the truth on my—"

Phoebe growled at him, cutting him off. "My boo says now's not a good time," Gideon said with a smirk, and he walked off, leaving Phoebe even more frustrated.

Max raised an eyebrow at Phoebe. "So, that's exciting. You and Gideon?"

Phoebe's fists clenched, her frustration boiling over. "Max. This is my first lead in the ballet. I've destroyed my toes for this moment."

Max, ever the instigator, replied with a half-smirk, "To be fair, you always had untidy toes."

Phoebe's eyes flared with anger, her voice low and dangerous. "And you're not gonna have any toes if you don't take down that video."

Max shrugged, uninterested. "No way. I'm this close to winning that contest and buying my island. I'll tell you what: you can prance around in your chicken suit at the grand opening of Maxlandia."

Phoebe turned to leave, storming off toward the school exit. "This isn't over, Max. One way or another, I'll get you back. Right after I get my lead back. And I'm gonna show all of you I'm not The Epic Faill—"

Just as she spoke, Phoebe tripped over a bench, crashing to the floor with an oof as students around her laughed. She quickly stood up, brushing herself off and giving a forced smile. "Whoa! Starting now!" She bumped into a girl, knocking her books to the ground. "Okay, now!" she added quickly before hurrying out of the school.

In the midst of all the chaos, Melanie had quietly observed the entire confrontation. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth slightly agape as she took in the drama unfolding in front of her. She knew Phoebe was under pressure, but seeing the tension between her and Max was something else entirely. Melanie slowly approached, unsure of what to say, but she could tell this wasn't just about a video anymore. The stakes had risen, and she felt a strange sense of sympathy for Phoebe.

Max was still watching his sister leave, completely unaware of Melanie's presence, when she stepped forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, startled, and saw her expression.

"Max," Melanie said quietly, almost in disbelief. "You really did this? You... turned your sister into a joke?"

Max's smirk faded, replaced with a sheepish look. "Look, Mel... it wasn't supposed to go this far. But..." He trailed off, unsure of how to explain himself.

Melanie shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "You're better than this, Max. Phoebe's not just some game you play for attention."

Max looked at her, guilt slowly creeping in. "Yeah. Maybe... Maybe I went too far."

Melanie placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a small, understanding smile. "Maybe it's time to fix things. Before you lose more than just a contest."

Max nodded slowly, his mind already working on how he could make things right. But deep down, he knew it wouldn't be as easy as taking down a video.

Later that day, after the chaos of the school bell and the lingering echoes of laughter from her "epic fail" video, Phoebe found herself sitting alone on one of the school's benches near the courtyard. Her mind was racing, frustration swirling in her chest as she replayed the events over and over in her head.

She didn't notice Melanie sitting down next to her until the girl spoke, her voice soft but firm.

"Hey, you okay?" Melanie asked, her eyes sympathetic but sharp. She could tell Phoebe was fuming.

Phoebe glanced over at her, a sigh escaping her lips. "I don't know anymore, Mel. Max is... he's impossible. He doesn't get it." She shook her head, her frustration boiling over again. "First, he posts that video and now he thinks it's all funny. But I can't even go to ballet class without feeling like I'm being watched—like I'm a joke."

Melanie bit her lip, glancing at the ground for a moment. She knew what Phoebe was going through, more than she cared to admit. It wasn't just the video—it was the way Max treated everything like a game. To him, it was all entertainment, and Phoebe was just the punchline.

"You know, Phoebe," Melanie began, her voice lower now, "it's not just the video. It's the way Max handles things. He makes everything about him, and you're stuck dealing with the aftermath."

Phoebe glanced over at Melanie, her brows furrowing. "You think I don't know that? I'm so tired of being the one who gets hurt, just so Max can get a laugh. I'm done being his puppet."

Melanie nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "I get it. And honestly? He's going to keep doing it unless someone makes him stop."

Phoebe clenched her fists. "I've tried! I've talked to him, tried to get through to him, but it's like he doesn't care. The only thing that matters to him is his next viral post, his next laugh."

"That's the thing with Max," Melanie said, turning to face Phoebe. "He thrives on chaos. He wants attention, and he doesn't care who he hurts to get it."

Phoebe crossed her arms, staring out across the courtyard. "So, what? You think we should just let him get away with this? Let him keep doing whatever he wants?"

Melanie looked directly at her, her expression hardening. "No. I think it's time we did something about it. But we can't just confront him head-on. We'll have to be smart about it."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "What are you thinking?"

Melanie leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper as she shared her plan. "We need to make Max realize that his actions have consequences. Not just to you, but to everyone around him. But the trick is, we do it without giving him a direct reason to retaliate. We need to make him understand how it feels to be the one who's laughed at, to be the one who's out of control."

Phoebe narrowed her eyes, slowly catching on. "You want to embarrass him? Hit him where it hurts?"

Melanie gave a small, almost sly smile. "Exactly. If he can't see how bad it feels when the tables are turned, he'll never get it. We have to give him a taste of his own medicine."

Phoebe leaned back on the bench, mulling over the idea. "I mean, I'm not exactly a fan of revenge, but... it's not like I have a lot of options. And if Max won't listen to me, maybe this is the only way he'll learn." She paused, a smirk creeping across her face. "And I'm not gonna lie, the thought of him squirming a little is... kind of satisfying."

Melanie chuckled, a bit of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Exactly. We don't have to destroy him, Phoebe. Just... make him uncomfortable enough that he starts thinking twice before pulling stunts like this again."

Phoebe looked over at Melanie, finally feeling a spark of hope. "So, what's the plan? How do we turn the tables on him?"

Melanie stood up, brushing some dirt off her jeans as she grinned at Phoebe. "Step one: We start with his precious Chirper account. It's time he learned that being a joke isn't as funny when you're the punchline."

Phoebe's eyes lit up. "You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?"

"Absolutely." Melanie's grin widened. "We create a few viral moments of our own—ones that don't make him look like a star, but more like... a failure."

Phoebe's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "I'm in."

Melanie's eyes sparkled with determination. "Good. We get to work. And Max won't know what hit him."

As they walked away from the bench, Phoebe felt a small sense of power return. For once, she wasn't the one being embarrassed, the one left to pick up the pieces after Max's antics. She was in control now, and Max was going to get a taste of his own medicine. This time, she wasn't going to let him walk all over her.

And together, Phoebe and Melanie