Page 31 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

A phone vibrating.

I wouldn’t have thought much of it—until I noticed Ethan pulling his phone out, glancing at the screen, and then immediately shoving it back like it had burned him.

I narrowed my eyes. That was suspicious. Ethan would interrupt his own funeral to answer a call if it meant getting attention. But instead of picking up, he pressed decline. And not just that—he pressed, held, and then… blocked the number.

I blinked.

Huh.

I caught a glimpse of the name before it disappeared: Dad.

I paused, and digested it for a second. First, he couldn't let his dad fix his car. Now, he was blocking him. That was interesting.

Ethan must have felt me staring because he turned his head and glared. "What?"

I quickly looked away, pretending to be very interested in the dirt on my shoe. "Nothing."

Ethan didn’t say anything, but I could feel him watching me. He didn’t like being observed. Probably because he was used to being the one doing the watching.

But before I could process any of this further, a loud voice interrupted.

"A race to the bottom of the mountain!"

I snapped my head toward Max. Of course it had to be.

The second the words left his mouth, everyone slowly turned to look at Mr. Dax.

I prayed—I begged—for him to be the responsible adult he was supposed to be.

"Absolutely not," I whispered under my breath. "Say no. Be reasonable. You’re an educator. Make good choices."

Mr. Dax looked at all of us, crossed his arms, and said—

"Fine."

I knew it.

I would like to formally announce that I was against this.

"Why does everything have to involve running?" I groaned as everyone lined up at the edge of the trail. "We could just… walk. At a normal, civilized pace."

Joy nudged me with her elbow. "Clark, you love a challenge."

"I love academic challenges," I corrected. "Not ‘who can launch themselves off a mountain the fastest’ challenges."

Ethan smirked. "What’s the matter, Clark? Afraid you’ll trip and fall into a ravine?"

"Yes, actually! That is a very valid fear!"

"Too bad," Ethan said, rolling his shoulders like he had already won. "Try not to cry when I beat you."

"Try not to cry when you twist your ankle and roll into a bush," I shot back. Suddenly, I was surprised by the words I could say just to justify my lack of good athletic skills.

He grinned. "Oh, Clark. You wish."

Before I could argue further, Mr. Dax raised his hand. "On my mark—"

I swallowed.

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