were going to make sure Max understood exactly how it felt to be the punchline.

Max was lounging on his desk in his bedroom, still basking in the afterglow of his viral victory. Dr. Colosso, donning his own party hat, was happily sitting beside him, looking at the cake decorated with "MAXLANDIA" written in bold, tropical frosting.

Max's smile was wide and self-assured. "Dr. Colosso, my Epic Faillerina video is about to hit a million re-chirps. Right after celebrating with some cake," Max said, practically salivating at the sight of the cake.

Dr. Colosso nodded enthusiastically. "I can't believe we're going to get our own country, Max! This is huge!" He clapped his paws, his bunny tail wiggling in excitement.

Max didn't seem to share the enthusiasm. "We? It's Maxlandia, not 'Max-and-his-Bunny-landia,'" he said, playfully shoving Dr. Colosso aside as he admired the cake.

Dr. Colosso, unfazed, said, "Tell that to the flag!" He hit a button beside the desk, and from the wall, a flag unfurled. It had an image of Max holding Dr. Colosso with black and red streaks and stars. The words "Max-and-his-Bunny-landia" sprawled across it.

Max froze, his face turning red with frustration. "We are not using that!"

Dr. Colosso sighed dramatically, clearly hurt by the rejection. "Oh..."

Max, though, was already on to the next thing. He clicked on his computer to check the stats on his video, but instead, an error message popped up: "Video has been deleted from Chirper."

Max's excitement faltered immediately. "What? Where is my video?"

From behind him, Phoebe appeared with an exaggerated sigh and a smug smile. "Deleted," she said simply, crossing her arms.

Max spun around, nearly knocking over his chair. "What?! Phoebe, what did you do?!"

Phoebe's grin widened as she leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the moment. "Well, I came down here earlier to rub some of your stuff under my armpit—" she began, then paused with a knowing chuckle. "But I found your computer open, and guess what? You were still logged in."

Max's eyes widened in horror. "What? That's impossible. I never forget to log out. Unless..." His gaze shot to Dr. Colosso, who was looking uncharacteristically innocent.

Dr. Colosso squirmed in his seat. "Ooh, sorry! I had some... important business to attend to." A flashback began, showing Dr. Colosso, on Max's computer, watching a workout video. He was jumping and wiggling his bunny tail in time with the instructor.

The workout instructor shouted, "Come on, girls! You've gotta feel the burn! Woo!"

Dr. Colosso eagerly responded, "Oh yeah, feeling it!" as he moved his bunny hips in rhythm.

Max groaned, visibly horrified. "NO! I can't unsee that!"

Phoebe raised an eyebrow and then turned to Max, teasing, "Well, guess what? You're not getting your video back. And you know what else? I hacked your email, Max. I sent an email to Madame Gigi confessing you faked the video."

Max's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You hacked into my email?!"

Phoebe crossed her arms smugly, a victorious grin spreading across her face. "Yep. And no more access to the great opening in Maxlandia for you."

Max's face fell as the reality of his loss sank in. "You can't do that! You can't just take everything from me!"

Phoebe threw him a playful glance. "Oh, I did take something, Max. In fact, Madame Gigi gave me the lead back. I'm going to be The Swan at the show."

Just as Phoebe was about to leave, someone else entered the room. It was Melanie, Phoebe's close friend, with a sly smile that matched Phoebe's mischievous energy.

"Did I hear that right?" Melanie asked, raising an eyebrow as she walked in. "Madame Gigi gave you the lead? The Swan?"

Phoebe grinned back, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "That's right. No more falling in front of the audience. I'm going to show them what I can do."

Melanie leaned in, conspiratorially. "And Max? He's totally out of the loop now. Did you really delete his video? That's cold."

Phoebe shrugged, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "He deserved it. I'm tired of being the punchline of his jokes."

Melanie chuckled, clearly enjoying Phoebe's victory. "Well, if I were you, I'd be prancing all the way to the ballet tonight. You've earned it."

Phoebe gave Melanie a wink. "Oh, I will. No more Epic Faillerina, just a real swan tonight."

Max, sitting at his desk, felt a pang of defeat. "You guys are impossible."

Melanie smirked. "We're just getting started, Max. You've been warned."

As Phoebe and Melanie left the room, they exchanged a victorious high-five. For once, the tables had turned. Max was the one in the hot seat, and Phoebe was ready to take center stage—both at the ballet and in life.

Max watched them leave, fury bubbling inside him, but for now, he was powerless. "This isn't over," he muttered under his breath.

But for Phoebe and Melanie, the show was just beginning.

☆☆

Melanie stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her ballerina costume. The elegant fabric sparkled under the dressing room lights as she smoothed down the bodice of her tutu. Her hair was neatly tied into a sleek bun, and the soft pink of her ballet slippers completed the look. She felt ready — not just for the performance, but for the victory that would come with it. The day of the show had arrived, and Melanie was about to step into the spotlight.

As she adjusted the last strap on her slippers, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She smiled, imagining the audience's applause. This is it, she thought. Tonight, I'm going to shine.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. Melanie's eyes darted toward it. Her heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively braced herself. She knew exactly who it was.

The door creaked open, and in walked Max, looking unusually calm but with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Melanie, I came to wish you good luck," Max said, his voice smooth and almost sincere. "You know, after everything... I just thought maybe we could... start fresh. I mean, who doesn't like a good show?" He stepped forward, holding the flowers out toward her. "For you, the star of the night."

Melanie raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady and unamused. She turned away from the mirror, slowly and deliberately, and folded her arms. Her expression was one of complete indifference, but her tone was sharp.

"Nice try, Max," she said, her voice cool. "But I don't kiss the enemy."

Max stopped in his tracks, taken aback by her words. His hand, still holding the bouquet, dropped slightly as the realization hit him. He hadn't expected that reaction.

"Oh, come on. It's just flowers," he said, trying to play it off. "I'm being nice. I'm—"

"You are being nice," Melanie interrupted, her voice firm but controlled. "But that doesn't mean I'll forgive you. You made Phoebe's life miserable, and now you're trying to play the 'good guy'? No way."

Max frowned, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "You don't understand. I did what I had to do. She—"

"No, you don't understand," Melanie shot back, stepping closer, her posture straight and unwavering. "You thought you could manipulate everything and everyone, but tonight is Phoebe's night. It's her time to shine, and it's my turn to show everyone what I can do — without your nonsense getting in the way."

Max stood there, his mouth opening and closing as if he had more to say, but no words came out. He had never seen Melanie this strong, this resolute.

"You know what?" Melanie said, taking a step back and picking up her ballet shoes from the chair beside her. "It's not even about the video or the game you're playing. It's about respect. Something you clearly don't have. But that's fine. You'll learn eventually."

She walked past him to the door, leaving him standing there with his bouquet, his face a mix of confusion and frustration. As Melanie turned the handle, she shot him one last look.

"I don't kiss the enemy, Max. Not today, not ever," she said firmly, before stepping out into the hallway.

Max stared after her, his frustration boiling over. "You're going to regret this," he muttered, his words barely audible as Melanie disappeared into the crowd.

Melanie, on the other hand, felt a sense of peace settle over her. As she made her way toward the stage, the lights brightening her path, she couldn't help but smile. This was her time. And nothing Max did, or said, could take that away from her.

Tonight, the spotlight was hers.

The lights dimmed, and the soft, elegant music filled the auditorium. The audience sat in awe, captivated by the beauty of the performance unfolding before them. Phoebe, dressed in a delicate pink tutu, danced with grace, every movement fluid and precise. Her long hair cascaded down her back, her expression focused yet serene.

Beside her, Melanie moved with equal elegance, her blue tutu shimmering under the spotlight. She was the perfect complement to Phoebe, each of them anticipating the other's every step. The two girls twirled and leaped across the stage in perfect synchrony, their bodies telling a story of beauty and strength. Melanie's movements were smooth, effortlessly following Phoebe as they danced as one, a seamless partnership that captivated the audience even more than Phoebe's solo.

In the front row, Barb, Hank, Billy, and Nora watched with admiration.

"Phoebe looks so graceful and elegant. Don't you think?" Barb whispered, her eyes fixed on the stage.

Max, sitting a few rows back, slouched in his seat, arms crossed and a frown on his face. He wasn't impressed. "I'm going to the toilet," he muttered under his breath, but instead of heading to the restroom, he slipped out of his seat and headed straight for Gideon.

"Hey, Gideon. Take my phone and record everything that happens on stage, okay? I've got a contest to win, and I'm not sharing," Max said, his voice low and serious.

"That's cool. As long as I can get your sister's phone number. You know, for 'business' purposes," Gideon replied with a sly grin.

Max leaned in, smirking. "Just promise to call her every day."

Gideon nodded eagerly, camera phone in hand, already recording the performance. Meanwhile, Max returned to the corner, a devious glint in his eyes.

"Epic Faillerina is about to ruin her Swan Lake," Max muttered to himself.

Back on stage, Phoebe and Melanie continued to dance, the harmony of their movements almost hypnotic. The audience was so entranced by the performance that no one noticed Max, with his telekinetic powers, subtly manipulating objects backstage.

Max's eyes narrowed as he focused on a nearby duck sculpture. With a flick of his hand, it moved, just enough to throw Phoebe off balance. But she was too skilled. With a graceful leap, she soared over the sculpture, landing perfectly back into her rhythm. Her eyes flickered towards the moving object, but she didn't miss a beat.

Max, frustrated but determined, tried again. This time, he lifted a vase off its pedestal, aiming it towards Phoebe, but once again, she dodged it with ease, her movements like water flowing around an obstacle.

"Come on!" Max hissed under his breath. He sent another vase hurtling toward her, but Phoebe effortlessly avoided it, her grace never faltering.

Phoebe, now aware of Max's interference, locked eyes with him, her gaze full of anger. "Don't glare at me, feather freak!" Max taunted.

But Phoebe, undeterred, kept dancing. With a flick of her wrist, she used her own telekinesis, sending a purse flying toward Max. The woman it belonged to leaped up, grabbed it, and, with one swift motion, smacked Max on the back of his head with it.

Max yelped, rubbing his head. "You just hit the emperor of Maxlandia!" he protested, only to be hit again. "You hit me again!"

As the woman raised her purse for a third strike, Max had no choice but to flee, the scene erupting into laughter and confusion.

Phoebe, still composed, finished her performance with a final flourish. The crowd erupted into applause, and she and Melanie moved gracefully off the stage, their hearts pounding but their faces glowing with the satisfaction of a flawless performance.

Backstage, Madame Gigi waited, ready to offer her praise. "Oh, beautiful dance, Phoebe. Now, your Black Swan costume is in your office. You change while I go speak to all the prized freshmen."

"Thank you, Madame Gigi." Phoebe beamed at her teacher, then gave her a kiss on both cheeks in excitement. As she went to give another kiss, Madame Gigi stopped her.

"Okay. Too much touching," Madame Gigi said with a chuckle before leaving the room.

Phoebe, thrilled with her performance, headed to her dressing room to get changed into her Black Swan costume. As she entered, Max appeared at the door, his presence sending a small jolt of tension through her.

"Get out of here, Max. Stop trying to make me fail. It's not going to work," Phoebe said, her voice sharp.

But Max just grinned. "I know. You're too good out there. Which is why I'm shutting you in here," he said as he shoved her toward the closet, locking the door behind her.

"Wh- What! Max!" Phoebe's voice was muffled through the door as she pounded on it. "What are you doing?"

Max, holding Phoebe's Black Swan costume in his hand, grinned wider. "Time for this swan to lay an egg," he said before walking out toward the stage.

Inside the closet, Phoebe's frustration boiled over as she continued to pound on the door, yelling for help.

Meanwhile, the second part of the performance began. Max, wearing the Black Swan costume, appeared on stage, awkwardly mimicking the dance moves Phoebe had so gracefully performed earlier. He stumbled and tripped, causing confusion and laughter among the audience.

Barb, sitting in the front row, leaned toward Hank. "Wow. That costume sure makes Phoebe look muscular."

Hank, puzzled, squinted at the stage. "It's not Phoebe... it's Max."

Gideon, still recording, laughed. "Go ahead, girlfriend!" he teased, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Max, clumsily trying to dance, tripped and fell hard to the floor, much to the amusement of the audience. Barb, distracted by the strange performance, suddenly noticed something strange on Hank's neck.

"What is that on your neck?" Barb asked, leaning closer.

Hank grabbed at his neck and pulled out a small, wriggling leech. "Oh! That's a leech!" He whispered to Billy and Nora, "Must be from the Amazon plant."

He ripped the end of his jeans apart, revealing pieces of Amazon plant stuck to him, and more leeches crawled out.

"Ahhh!" Hank yelped in disgust.

Barb gasped in horror, and Nora screamed as she found leeches on her sweater. "Blood suckers!" she cried.

Billy, pulling up his shirt, revealed even more leeches clinging to his stomach. He fainted, and Hank quickly caught him.

"Barb, what's happening?" Hank asked, clearly panicked as he tried to help Billy.

The chaotic scene backstage only added to the confusion, while Phoebe, locked away in the closet, still struggled to break free, knowing the chaos Max had caused would not go unpunished.

The final notes of the recital echoed in the auditorium, and the audience erupted into applause. The performance was over, and both Phoebe and Melanie, their hearts still racing with excitement, stood on stage, their faces glowing with the joy of having pulled off an incredible show. But the crowd wasn't done cheering yet. They clapped louder, chanting for Phoebe and Melanie to take a bow, eager to acknowledge the two talented dancers who had made their night unforgettable.

Phoebe and Melanie exchanged a brief, knowing glance before stepping forward to acknowledge their audience. The spotlight bathed them in its warm glow, their graceful movements still radiating from the performance. As they took their bow, the crowd's applause grew even louder, and Melanie leaned in, giving Phoebe a quick, affectionate smile.

As the applause began to fade, Melanie spotted Max standing near the edge of the stage, looking absolutely mortified in the Black Swan costume. She could tell he was embarrassed, but she wasn't about to let him off that easy. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she winked at Phoebe before making her way toward Max.

Before he could react, Melanie leaned in and planted a sweet, yet playful kiss on his cheek. "You made a fool out of yourself, Max," she whispered, causing his eyes to widen in shock.

Max's face flushed, his smug grin faltering. "W-What?" he stammered, utterly caught off guard.

But just as Max thought he was about to receive some unexpected praise, Melanie quickly pulled back and gave him a swift smack on the back of his head. "And you ruined my performance," she added with a teasing smile, enjoying every second of Max's confused expression.

Max blinked, rubbing the spot where she'd smacked him, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. "Ouch! You didn't have to—"

"Oh, I think I did," Melanie quipped, winking at him as she turned to rejoin Phoebe.

Barb, standing off to the side with a proud smile on her face, stepped forward, holding two small bouquets of flowers in her hands. She presented one to each of the girls. "For two amazing dancers who truly made tonight special," she said warmly, her eyes shining with pride. Melanie and Phoebe accepted the flowers with genuine smiles, both of them thankful for the gesture. They exchanged a quick hug, feeling the bond of their friendship deepening.

But as the girls were basking in the sweetness of the moment, Barb's eyes fell on Hank, Billy, and Nora, who were all standing near the back, looking a little worse for wear. "Wait, what's going on with them?" Barb asked, her voice laced with concern.

Hank was holding his neck, still trying to pull off a few more leeches, while Billy was sitting on the floor, pale and groaning. Nora, too, seemed to be in distress, her hands frantically swatting at her sweater. They all looked uncomfortable, and the sight of the bloodsuckers on them didn't escape the girls' notice.

Melanie and Phoebe exchanged a look of realization, and Melanie turned to Max with a half-smirk. "So, while you were busy ruining my performance," she said, her voice teasing but with a hint of concern, "did you happen to notice your friends are covered in leeches?"

Max's eyes widened in horror, and he immediately darted over to Hank, Billy, and Nora. "What the heck?!" he exclaimed. "How did this happen?"

Barb sighed, shaking her head. "Looks like someone didn't have quite as much fun as you, Max." She walked over to help Billy, while Hank continued to pull leeches off himself, looking disgusted. Nora, too, was trying to remove the little creatures.

Phoebe and Melanie couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Despite everything that had happened that night—from Max's chaotic sabotage to the unexpected costume switch—it was moments like these that made the craziness of their world feel a little more manageable.

"Looks like Max's Black Swan performance wasn't the only thing that fell apart tonight," Phoebe teased, her voice light and full of amusement.

Melanie grinned, shaking her head. "Yeah, but at least we're still standing," she said, motioning to herself and Phoebe. "Unlike some people."

Max glared at them, clearly embarrassed, but as he helped Hank with the leeches, there was a sense of camaraderie