Page 116 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

May the ocean gods intervene.

He stood and cleared his throat loudly enough to startle the half the students.

"Let me remind you who's in charge." He let the silence stretch, his gaze sweeping over us like a warden inspecting prisoners. "You wasted time, ignored the itinerary, and most importantly, you all skipped lunch. So as a punishment, we're having dinner together." He paused, letting us believe it was just a minor inconvenience before delivering the final blow. "At the cheapest burger joint I can find. No upgrades. No extras. Just a plain, sad, standard meal. And ooh it's cheaper than anything we have ever eaten.”

Of course, the ocean gods couldn't hear me even after being blessed.

Groans filled the air. Joy clutched her chest like she'd been mortally wounded. "Oh, the horror. The humanity."

Shun, ever the diplomat, simply nodded. "Fair enough."

Honestly, it could’ve been worse. Detention. Expulsion. A personal lecture from Principal

Catherine. Compared to that, an underwhelming meal was bearable. Still, I wasn’t thrilled.

We shuffled, following Mr. Dax down the street to a run-down burger joint squeezed between a pawn shop and a nail salon. The sign above flickered weakly, only managing to spell out "Bites." Not exactly reassuring.

Inside, the air reeked of grease and burnt fryer oil. The cashier, a tired-looking teenager, barely acknowledged us as Mr. Dax placed a bulk order of basic cheeseburgers with small sodas. No fries. No sides. Just disappointment wrapped in wax paper.

When the food arrived, I unwrapped my burger and stared at it. The patty was thin enough to see daylight through, thecheese looked suspiciously plastic, and the bun was already slightly squished. Across from me, Joy prodded hers like it might fight back.

"This is the saddest thing I've ever seen," she murmured.

Ethan, of course, took a huge bite and shrugged. "I've had worse."

"Your standards are in hell," I deadpanned.

Mia snapped a picture. "I feel like this moment needs to be remembered. The Great Burger Punishment of Paramount High."

Mr. Dax, sitting at a separate table, sipped his soda with the satisfaction of a man who knew his revenge was complete. "Let this be a lesson. Next time, stick to the schedule. I'm talking to you Clark."

I sighed and took a bite, ignoring him. It tasted exactly as bad as it looked.

Ethan and Max, of course, had stolen fries. How they even got them was a bad-ass-jock mystery.

The sound of the door jingling made me glance up. A group of students entered, their matching jackets practically announcing their presence before they even spoke. The rival school. Boulder High.

I stiffened, stomach twisting as I recognized them—the same smug faces that had pelted us with rotten eggs before the trip even began. I still hadn’t forgotten the stench.

Across the room, Mr. Dax looked up from his soda and locked eyes with Boulder High's chaperone. A silent acknowledgment passed between them. A sigh. A grim nod.

The tension in the air shifted. Our group, all still munching on our sad burgers and stolen chips, instinctively squared their shoulders.

We watched them as they made their orders. They watched us in return.

And then, just as we all braced for what was coming, Max turned to Ethan and, with all the subtlety of a bull in a China shop, grinned. "FOOD FIGHT!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the room like a battle cry.

Chaos erupted instantly. Trays flipped, spaghetti soared, and mashed potatoes splattered against the walls like some avant-garde art piece. Ethan had already launched a handful of fries at an unsuspecting rival before my brain even filed a report.

I groaned, sinking into my chair like I could disappear into it. “Unbelievable.”

Somewhere between dodging a rogue meatball and reevaluating my life choices, I found myself watching Ethan.

He was grinning like the demon he was, effortlessly dodging a slice of pizza with the grace of someone who’d trained for food fights at a demonic Olympics. That reckless smile tugged at something quiet in me. Maybe it was the joy lighting up his face. Or maybe it was how, with him, nothing needed explaining.

Before I knew it, I was standing. Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed the closest thing to me—a burger—and hurled it straight at his mug face.

He twisted at the last second, and the burger missed him entirely, smacking into Max’s shoulder with an unceremonious splat.

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