SHADOWS & SECRETS

[Savage Pink Exclusive]

For the first thing I actually give a damn about — the game. Thank God the team won. Took long enough to get worried, but they pulled off a miracle. The crowd went crazy — and yeah, I mean deafening-roar, ground-shaking, people-crying kind of crazy. I watched as their star player got lifted onto their shoulders, face flushed with excitement like he wasn't born for this exact kind of glory.

But my focus? It shifted real quick. Because while everyone's busy celebrating, the school warrant is out there digging for every bit of dirt they can find on me.

Let's get one thing straight: I said what I said, and I'm not sorry for saying what matters. Just because I live in the shadows and spill the tea from there doesn't mean I'm scared. I just have a… unique taste for truth.

Like when Nick's Parents tried to table this whole thing like I was the problem — as if I'm the one lying. Sorry, not sorry, but Belle fell for a fool. It happens. Let's all move on and focus on something better.

#StopTheRumors or maybe #MIAGirlsComeNext? Stay tuned.

*-*

I shut my laptop with a satisfying snap, leaning back in my chair just as my mom's voice floated up from downstairs.

"Billie! Dinner's ready!"

I sighed, my stomach growling in agreement. Pushing off the chair, I headed down, still half-lost in my thoughts about the game, the school warrant, and the ridiculousness of Nick's parents.

Mom was already seated at the table, flashing me that warm, knowing smile that only moms have.

"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?" she asked as I slid into my seat.

I shrugged, trying to keep it cool. "It was fine."

But my mom knows me. She arched an eyebrow, curiosity twinkling in her eyes. "Billie… what's going on? You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?"

The concern in her voice made me hesitate. I wanted to tell her — but there are some things you just don't say out loud.

"It's just school stuff," I said, brushing it off. "Don't worry about it."

Mom nodded slowly, but I could tell she wasn't convinced.

Before she could press further, my phone buzzed against my plate. I snuck a glance at the screen and couldn't help the smile that spread across my face when I saw Bill's name. He was sitting right across from me, smirking like the devil.

Bill: Tonight's post was so cool. Good job, sis.

I bit back a laugh, my thumbs flying over the screen.

Me: Too bad I'm wanted now.

The smell of roasted chicken and steamed vegetables filled the air, but the real feast was the chaos I'd just stirred online. Bill's phone buzzed next, and he grinned as he read my reply.

Bill: And you made it clear you don't want to be found. They'll have no choice but to give up.

I stabbed a piece of chicken, trying to stay casual.

Me: Wanna make art tonight?

His eyes lit up, and he nodded, his excitement barely contained.

Bill: Hell yeah.

Mom's voice cut through the silent conversation. "Billie, are you even listening to me?"

I looked up, still grinning. "Yeah, Mom. Sorry."

In case you're confused — this is just the way we talk. Texting across the dinner table, plotting mischief. And when I say "art," I don't mean sketches in a notebook. Bill's the real mastermind behind this one.

For the past two years, we've been creating graffiti that pops up all over the city — bold, brilliant, impossible-to-ignore art. And if you ever wake up and see our signature splashed across a building or a street sign… don't be scared. It's just us.

The Parkers. Living in the shadows. And taking no prisoners.

*-*

Bill pushed his chair back, that mischievous grin spreading across his face — the one that always meant trouble. "Hey, Mom, can I go out tonight? The team's having a party to celebrate the win."

Mom raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "It's a school night, Bill."

He didn't even flinch. "Come on, Mom. It's just one night. And I promise I'll be responsible."

I jumped in, the supportive twin act in full force. "Yeah, Mom. It's not every day the team wins. Let him celebrate."

She sighed, already defeated. "Fine. But be home by midnight. And both of you — take your phones and watch after each other, please."

Bill whooped, pumping his fist in the air like he'd just scored the game-winning shot. "Thanks, Mom! You're the best."

As soon as we were out of the house, his entire demeanor shifted — excitement bubbling just under the surface. "Alright, sis. Tonight's the night. We've got a canvas to paint."

My heart did that familiar flip, adrenaline already kicking in. "Let's do this."

We moved through the streets like shadows, backpacks loaded with spray paint, stencils, and just the right amount of rebellion. The city wasn't just our playground — it was our gallery. And tonight, we were ready to leave our mark.