Page 18 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

I rubbed my temples. “Oh, my gods.”

“Oh yes,” Joy purred, wiggling her eyebrows. “And guess what? I already have a topic.”

I groaned. “Please don’t say—”

“Nature.”

Joy spread her arms like she had just announced world peace. “I’m the Wildlife Club Captain, okay? I live for this. Plus, it’s how I met Mia.”

Shun nodded approvingly. “That makes sense.”

Joy smirked. “See? Even Shun agrees.”

“I literally said nothing,” Shun pointed out.

“You nodded,” Joy countered.

I exhaled through my nose. “I hate that this actually makes sense.”

“So, we’re doing it?” Joy beamed.

I glanced at Shun.

She shrugged. “We really don’t have a better option.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how we accidentally entered a nationwide competition with only twenty days to make a winning documentary—

—in a world of magic, monsters, and poor life choices—Where failure might mean eternal shame, indentured servitude, or, knowing Ethan, somehow angering a noble who could have us cursed.

With a nerd, a wildlife expert, a cheerleader, and Paramount High's favorite quarterback, what could possibly go wrong?

SPOILER ALERT: Everything.

Chapter 7: The Art of Persuasion (and Mild Panic Attack)

By the time lunch unfolded, I had successfully rewritten my letter five times.

And not just minor edits—I’m talking full-page deletions, aggressive rewording, and an existential crisis over whether "prestigious" was too strong of a word. Because, obviously, the fate of this entire operation hinged on whether or not I sounded too desperate.

The principal wasn’t stupid. She’d know if I was trying too hard. But I also couldn’t sound too casual, or she might not take us seriously. It was a delicate balance—like walking a tightrope over a pit of ‘why am I like this?’

Joy and Shun sat across from me in the cafeteria, watching me fumble with a pen.

"Clark," Joy called, resting her chin on her hand. "Are you seriously rewriting that letter again?"

"I just think it could be... tighter," I muttered, furiously scribbling.

"It’s a funding request, not a love confession," she said dryly.

"Maybe if you actually let us read it, we could help," Shun suggested, in that calm, reasonable tone that made me want to throw myself into a void. For a cheerleader, she was nothing like the cliche. If anything, she was the exact opposite; sweet, caring, and most of all optimistic.

I sighed, pressing my fingertips against my temples. "Fine. But be constructive, okay?"

I cleared my throat and began reading:

"Dear Principal Catherine,

I am writing to formally request the school’s support in Paramount High’s participation in the Nationwide High Schools Documentary Competition. As you know, our institution has always fostered a culture of academic excellence, creativity, and innovation. This competition presents an opportunity for our students to showcase their talents on a national stage and bring recognition to our esteemed school.

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