Imagine a brisk autumn evening, the kind where the leaves rustle underfoot with every step and the air smells of impending winter. Ethan had always loved these family gatherings at Aunt Clara’s—a quaint house wrapped in ivy, with an overstuffed living room that felt like a hug. Tonight, though, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, as if the house itself was holding its breath.

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Oh my, the air was tingling with that special kind of anticipation, you know? The kind that makes your stomach do backflips and your heart thump like it's trying to break free. There I was, Ethan, sitting at our dining table with its soft, inviting glow that usually spelled romance. But tonight, hmm, tonight felt different—unpredictable, even.

A sharp crack sounded behind Thomas as he crashed through the brush, and he threw himself to the side instinctively. He heard something whiz by his ear, and felt his stomach knot up again. Shit! Now they were shooting at him! So much for the peaceful camping trip.

I was trying on the swimsuit a short time later when I noticed that Mom and Evil Ugly Stepbrother had pulled into the drive and were getting out of the car. (Uh oh.) At this point, I figured if I put my regular clothes back on, sneaked back into my sister’s room, and put back her swimsuit and bra, Mom would very well catch me red-handed. What I did instead was take off the swimsuit and placed it and the bra into one of my dresser drawers (I placed them underneath my male mode shirts and shorts for good measure).