Page 62 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

But now?

Now Ethan was starting to feel like a reminder.

I drew a deep breath and shut off the water. I had to get my head together.

By the time I came out, dressed and meticulously tucking my shirt so that the scar would be hidden, I had myself in hand. Or so I told myself.

Ethan was on his bed, laptop open, scrolling through video. When he saw me, he turned the screen.

"Check this out."

I hesitated, then leaned in, expecting the worst. Given Ethan’s stereotype, I was prepared for over-the-top transitions, ridiculous sound effects, or—at best—something barely salvageable.

But as the footage rolled, I found myself… impressed.

The shots were clean. The pacing felt natural. The color grading brought out the depth of the forest greens and the sunlit golds of the creatures we’d recorded yesterday. He had trimmed down the shaky clips, added subtle fades where necessary, and even synced the background music perfectly to the movements of a herd of luminescent antelope-like creatures bounding through the grass.

I blinked. “Wait… this is actually good.”

I grinned knowing that at least now we had something solid to show principal Catherine.

Ethan smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Duh. Did you think I’d just slap some random cuts together? I’ve got taste, Ghost boy.”

I hated that he was right.

“I—yeah, I just wasn’t expecting this.” I hesitated before adding, “Good job.”

Ethan’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Well, well, well. Did Clark the Perfectionist just give me a compliment?”

I rolled my eyes and turned away, shoving my things into my bag. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Too late. I’m framing this moment in my memory forever.”

I ignored him.

Because the momentary warmth of our conversation was already fading under the weight of last night’s dream.

I moved my eyes away.

It was brief. One second. Just long enough that even I wasn't entirely sure if I'd done it by accident.

But I knew.

A shift.

As if a little part of me was already starting to retreat.

By the time we were all packed and boarding the bus, the energy levels had skyrocketed.

Joy was the first to kick things off. She stood at the front of the aisle, stretching dramatically.

“Alright, you heathens. Since we have a long ride ahead, it’s time for—drumroll, please—THE JOY CONCERT!”

Shun, sitting by the window, tapped out an unenthusiastic drumroll against her phone case.

Ethan grinned. “Finally, some quality entertainment.”

“Oh no. Not again,” I muttered.

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