Page 7 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

“Clark!” Dad’s voice thundered from downstairs, a little more panicked than usual. “Get up, you’re gonna miss the bus!”

This was going to be a great day.

I hastily did my best to pull myself together, but I wasn't fooling anyone. I looked like a zombie who'd just discovered coffee but had absolutely no idea how to use it. Coffee at this point would be the probably only thing that could save me—and not in the tiny cup of weak stuff Mom makes either, but in the kind of stuff that gives a soul a kickstart.

I hobbled downstairs, hoping for mercy from my parents.

But instead of concern or anger, they were… laughing.

"Well, well, well," Mom said, peering over her coffee mug like some sort of caffeinated detective. "Looks like someone had a bit too much fun last night."

Dad, adjusting his glasses as if he was about to say something, threw in before I could say anything, "Did you drink water in between the rounds?”

I looked at both of them, exasperation and despair twisting my face. "I still don't know what happened last night."

"You looked like you were having fun," Dad said, winking. "Maybe next time, you can teach me those moves. I'll start working on my backflip."

I gave a weak laugh, despite understanding only half of his statement, "yeah, right, Dad. You'd break something.”

"Exactly," he said, as if that made any kind of sense. "That's why I'm sticking with my day job."

"Can we not talk about it?" I grumbled, reaching for a bowl of cereal I wouldn't eat. "I have a headache that could kill a horse."

"Clark," Mom said, finally sounding serious, "I just have one question: Did you actually breakdance?”

I buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know, did I?”

“Well,” Dad said, taking a second sip of coffee like it was the best thing he’d heard all morning,

“at least you’re learning how to have a little fun. Take it slower next time, okay?”

Why did everyone think fun had to mean almost dying on the dance floor or drinking yourself to oblivion? Hadn't they ever binge-watched documentaries about alchemy and quantum physics all weekend or read books for 48 hours straight?

I could only nod in defeat. What else was I supposed to do? I wasn't exactly in a position to argue. I couldn’t even explain how I got here in the first place or the time I got here.

Forcing myself to choke down a bowl of cereal—mostly milk and regret—I gathered my stuff and trudged out the door, dreading what awaited me.

I guess the bus driver had also attended the party—he was late by a minute or two, and to my advantage I got a ride.

The ride was a blur of nausea and self-loathing. I could barely remember climbing off.

°*°

Of course, it had to be the day everybody decided to notice me. People were staring at me, not like a casual "oh, hey, I see you" kind of glance, no; it was an intense type of staring. You know that feeling when you walk into a room and everybody init turns to look at you, just like you are some human car wreck? Yeah, that was me.

I couldn't tell whether they were judging me for my outfit or in awe of my genius. Whichever it was, it was uncomfortable, and I hated it.

I tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. I could practically feel their eyes on me as I walked down the hallway, and it wasn't in that "casual admiration" way. No, it was more like the "I'm gossiping about you behind your back and there's nothing you can do about it" kind of way.

Then, Shun, my partner-in-crime from the night before, appeared at my side, looking as deadpan as ever.

“Hey,” she said, glancing at me like she’d just found an unexpected new species in the wild. “You’re viral.”

I froze. “What?”

She pulled out her phone with a mischievous grin, shoving it in my face like she was presenting me with the worst thing ever.

And wouldn't you believe it, I was there, in all of my glory: me, a guy who practically trips over his feet trying to walk down the sidewalk, catapulting himself onto what looked-for all intents and purposes like some breakdancing battle but came off as something from a weird collision of human limbs and desperation. The worst part was the backflip. Yup, you heard me right, the backflip that sent the entire crowd wild and sent me stumbling like a drunkard. Wait…. I was drunk. How was I even still alive?

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