11 — Being single as a pringle

P E D R O

“I did some digging like you asked, and I think there's something fishy about the family,” the voice on the other end of the line said. I held the phone closer to my ear as I emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist.

The voice continued, “I've got some information that doesn't quite add up. Are you sure you want to know more?”

I paused, a feeling of unease settling in my stomach. Something about this whole situation just didn't feel right. But I knew I had to find out more.

I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for whatever was about to come. “Tell me what you found out,” I said, as I made my way to the edge of the bed and took a seat.

After a few moments of silence, the voice finally spoke again, his voice low and serious. “The family took in a girl about three years ago,” he mumbled, “and there's nothing about her in any of the articles I found. It's like she doesn't exist.”

Another pause, and then they continued. “And her name is Selena.”

A chill ran down my