Page 50 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

I wheezed. “No, but the bunnies do.”

“The bunnies?” Ethan repeated, walking beside me with a smirk. “The same ones that ruined your life?”

I scowled at him. “Exactly.”

Meanwhile, the forest was starting to get weird. Trees stretched impossibly tall, their bark shimmering with an eeriesilver glow. The leaves above rustled despite the absence of wind. Strange flowers pulsed with soft, golden light. Somewhere in the distance, I swore I heard laughter—though whether it was a trick of the forest or just Max and Ethan making fun of me, I wasn’t sure.

Then—hoofbeats.

Heavy, rhythmic, and getting closer.

Before I could process it, something huge and sparkling stepped out from between the trees.

A unicorn.

But not just any unicorn—this one had a mane of liquid stardust, its hooves left trails of glowing mist, and its spiraled horn shimmered with celestial energy. It moved like an otherworldly dream, impossibly graceful, each step radiating magic. If elegance had a physical form, this was it.

Everyone went silent.

Even Ethan.

Even Max.

Even Joy.

Then, of course, Max ruined it.

“Dude,” he whispered, eyes wide. “That’s a horse with Wi-Fi.”

Joy smacked him. “That is a unicorn, you idiot.”

“Same difference."

“Same—do you even hear yourself—”

I ignored them, too busy staring in awe as the unicorn flicked its ears, and gave us a long unimpressed look. Then, with an air of, “you peasants are beneath me,” it turned and walked off into the mist.

“I got it on camera,” Mia whispered. “And I think it just judged us.”

Ethan grinned. “Can’t blame it.”

And just like that, the moment was over. The unicorn disappeared, the forest settled, and the bunnies—those fluffy little menaces—were nowhere to be seen.

Which meant we had no reason to keep walking.

Which meant we had to walk back.

Which meant—

I groaned. “We’ve been walking for ages. How far did we even go?”

Joy checked her phone. “About five minutes.”

I collapsed against a tree. “I am not built for cardio.”

Ethan clapped a hand on my back, far too cheerful. “Guess you should’ve worked on that instead of being a nerd, huh?”

I glared at him. “I hate you.”

---