Page 55 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Before I could say more, my eyes flickered down—and that’s when I noticed it.

A fresh bruise, dark and ugly, just by his elbow.

I frowned. “Dude. What happened?”

Ethan immediately pulled his sleeve down. “Nothing. Forget it."

“You literally just said you avoid talking about stuff.”

“Yeah, and I meant deep emotional stuff, not ‘I banged my arm on a rock’ stuff.”

I didn’t buy it. But I also knew pushing wouldn’t help.

Luckily, Fred, one of the quieter wildlife club members, had a first aid kit. Before Ethan could protest, I dragged him over, and Fred's efficiently patched him up.

Ethan sighed, watching as Fred wrapped his elbow. “You know, for someone who hates me, you sure care a lot.”

I scowled. “I don’t hate you.”

“Wow. High praise.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

Ethan just grinned.

By the time we made it back to the bus, the sun was setting—-it painted the skies in hues of gold and orange—and we were exhausted.

The bad news? We were now way behind schedule.

The worse news? We were also over the budget.

Apparently, our little adventure had used up extra food supplies and resources. This shitty place charged extra every hour—despite not handing us a tour guide—and we’d overstayed by six.

So, you can guess how screwed we were. It meant we’d have to ration for the next few days and move faster.

The only good news? We had a recording of everything.

Mia had filmed it all—the bunnies, the unicorn, the moose attack, and even Ethan screaming for his life (which wasn’t exactly nature, but definitely something to tease him about in the future).

“This,” she declared proudly, “is the best footage I’ve ever captured.”

I groaned, flopping onto my seat. “Mrs. Catherine is going to murder us.”

Joy smirked, scrolling through the footage. “Yeah, but at least we’re dying cinematically.”

Ethan stretched lazily. “Hey, if we get kicked out of school for this, at least I can say I lived my best life.”

“You almost died.”

“Same thing.”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning in disappointment.

The bus ride back was eerily silent.

Most of the group had completely run out of energy. Even Max—Max, the human embodiment of loud background noise—was slumped against the window, fast asleep. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of snack wrappers and the hum of the engine, minus Mr. Dax engine-like snore, surprisingly.

It felt like the calm before the storm.

---