Page 44 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Ethan popped a grape into his mouth. "Details, details."

Joy smirked. "Clark, you have a terrible track record of getting roped into bad decisions. You're like a magnet for chaos."

"You say that like I have a choice," I muttered.

Breakfast continued, filled with sarcasm, jock banter, and the occasional insult aimed at my zombie mode appearance. After eating, we dragged ourselves back to the bus.

I barely registered getting onto my seat, pulling out my tablet, and opening my research notes. I had some research to do—something about wildlife migration patterns. Not that my brain was actually processing it. My thoughts felt like mashed potatoes.

For the first hour, the bus was loud.

Obnoxiously loud.

Max and the other jocks were making noise in the back, throwing crumpled-up snack wrappers at each other like overgrown toddlers. Joy and Mia were whispering about something I wasn’t nosy enough to care about. Shun was liking memes on her phone, occasionally showing one to Max, who would snicker like a five-year-old.

I focused on my screen, scrolling through my research.

The bus was loud.

Until it wasn't.

Not like everyone was exhausted and shut up. No, this was something else.

It was the kind of silence that crawled in like a spider crawling up your back. I didn't notice at first—just kept swiping on my tablet, brain muddled and eyes blinking from too much screen use. But then I did notice…

No Max laughter. No Joy sarcasm. No Mia whispering. No Shun memes.

Just the growl of the bus engine and soft crunch of a snack bag being slowly crushed under someone's foot.

I looked up.

Nobody said anything. Not stopped, necessarily—but… suspended. Like a video stuttering on a bad connection. Heads leaned. Eyes open, but empty. Even Max had paused, laughing, a gummy worm still hanging in his mouth like it remembered not to fall.

My stomach formed knots.

Something was wrong.

Very seriously wrong.

And then—I felt it.

The back of my neck prickled with hair as if attempting to escape. The air grew cold, but not physically. It was the cold you feel in your bones when you realize you're not alone at night.

I turned around carefully.

And saw Ethan.

Sitting completely motionless.

Too motionless.

He was staring at me—no, through me. His eyes… didn't merely glow. They hummed, glowed softly like distant embers. Like a dying star. His skin was too pale, too smooth, too perfect, like it had been shaped from wax.

And then—he smiled.

But not like Ethan.

It was broader.

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