Page 56 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

And, as if on cue, Mr. Dax suddenly appeared beside my seat, wordlessly handing me his phone.

I frowned. “Uh…?”

He gave me a flat look. “It’s for you.”

I hesitated before pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

A familiar voice, filled with both authority and deeply restrained frustration, answered:

“Clark Alderman.”

I sat up straighter. “Uh—hi, Mrs. Catherine.”

Our esteemed principal sighed dramatically. “Do you want to guess why I’m calling? Or should I just start yelling and save us both some time?”

I swallowed. “Yelling is unnecessary. I—I assume you saw the footage.”

“Oh yes, Clark, I saw the footage. Imagine my surprise when my night time coffee was interrupted by a video of my students getting chased by a moose! A moose, Clark! I’ve had some strange phone calls during my time as principal, but ‘yourstudents were almost yeeted into another dimension by an angry ungulate’ is a first.”

I winced. “Technically, it wasn’t our fault.”

“Oh, really?” she deadpanned. “Then whose fault was it? The moose? Should I put it in detention?”

“That would be ideal, actually.”

Mrs. Catherine let out a slow, deep breath. The kind of breath one takes when they are two seconds away from tracking you down and strangling you through the phone.

“Listen to me, Clark,” she said, her voice dropping into that deadly calm tone that all teachers have mastered. “I specifically told you to keep an eye on Ethan. I specifically warned you about shenanigans. And what do I see? Shenanigans, Clark! You are swimming in shenanigans! You are drowning in them!”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she wasn’t done.

“Let me be crystal clear—if one more thing goes wrong, if one more bizarre incident happens, I am calling off this entire trip and personally dragging every single one of you back to school by the ear. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I squeaked.

“Good.”

And then, without another word, she hung up.

I just sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, my soul slowly leaving my body.

Mr. Dax calmly took his phone back. “How’s she doing?”

I blinked at him. “She just threatened to personally teleport here and destroy me.”

He nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Ethan, who had been eavesdropping the entire time, snickered. “You’re so screwed.”

I turned to glare at him. “This is your fault.”

“Excuse you—I did nothing.”

“You flirted with a moose!”

“Allegedly.”

I groaned and let my head fall back against the seat. Eighteen more days and that would be the end of it all. No more Ethan. No more drama.

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