Page 122 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

The bus rumbled to life, pulling away from the motel and back onto the road. Outside, the scenery blurred past in streaks of green and gray, but I barely saw any of it. My fingers curled into my tablet, my stomach twisting in knots I couldn’t untangle.

Ethan thought I was his mate.

And no matter how much I denied it, no matter how much I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real, the way my chest had tightened when he looked at me told a different story.

I wasn’t ready to face that truth.

So, I didn’t.

After ages of travel, the bus rumbled to a stop in front of Paramount High just as the last streaks of sunlight faded into the horizon. The school parking lot, usually empty at this hour, was dotted with waiting cars and familiar figures. My stomach twisted as I spotted them—my parents.

They stood near the entrance, bundled up against the cool evening air, their faces breaking into relieved smiles the moment they saw me. My mother was the first to move, crossing the distance with quick steps, arms open wide.

“Clark!” she called, and before I could react, I was enveloped in the familiar warmth of her embrace. The scent ofher lavender perfume clung to her coat, and for the first time in days, I felt like I was really home.

My father patted my back firmly. “Welcome back, son.” His voice held the weight of emotions he wouldn’t outright express, but I caught the way his grip lingered on my shoulder.

Before I could respond, Joy was suddenly swept into a hug as well, my mom laughing as she squeezed her. “Oh, sweetheart! How was the trip? You didn’t let Clark sulk too much, did you?”

“Who, me?” Joy feigned innocence, shooting me a teasing grin. “I think he did just fine sulking on his own.”

Shun, standing beside us, gave my mother a polite nod, and she reached out to pull her into a brief hug as well. Shun stiffened at first, then hesitantly returned the gesture.

“Glad you both made it back in one piece,” my father added, his sharp gaze flickering over me as if scanning for hidden injuries. “No trouble?”

No trouble. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I glanced away, my fingers curling into my sleeves. “None worth mentioning.”

I wasn’t about to explain the way my mind had been unraveling the past few hours, the intrusive thoughts that wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. I definitely wasn’t about to talk about Ethan.

Instead, I focused on the relief in my parents’ eyes, the way my mom reached up to brush my messy hair from my face as if she could smooth away the exhaustion that clung to me.

“Clark!” boomed a familiar voice, and I turned just in time to be pulled into another hug—this time by Joy’s dads, Mike and Darren. Darren ruffled my hair, and Mike clapped my shoulder with all the energy of a man who still ran marathons.

“You’ve grown taller since the last time I saw you, or is that just the stress stretching you out?” Mike joked.

Darren was already scooping Joy into a double-dad hug. “We missed you, kiddo. And yes, we’ve both agreed we’re tagging along next time. No negotiations.”

“I second that,” added another voice—calmer, steadier. Shun’s mom, Ms. Kawahara, stepped forward with a quiet smile and a knowing look. She gave Shun a warm, one-armed hug, and then looked over at the rest of us. “It’s good to see all of you safe.”

There was a moment—fleeting but familiar—when all the parents gathered, forming a tight little semicircle of comfort and nostalgia.

“They remind me so much of us back in middle school,” my mom said, eyes twinkling as she glanced around the group.

“Except with fewer broken curfews,” Mike added, smirking.

“And more detentions,” Ms. Kawahara added.

They all laughed—an easy, shared sound built from years of friendship. Our parents had known each other since we were in middle school, their bond formed in the same classrooms, through PTA meetings, school trips, and the chaos that came with raising kids like us. Somewhere along the line, their friendships mirrored ours—messy, loyal, unshakable.

For a brief moment, the world felt whole. And safe.

Even if my insides were still frayed and knotted with things I couldn’t say out loud… it helped to be home.

“We should get going,” my father said after a moment of banter, nodding toward the car. “You must be tired.”

I was. More than tired. But, still, I wasn’t sure sleep would come easily.

We walked to the car together, leaving Joy, Shun, and their parents still caught up in stories and laughter.

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