Page 83 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

And then—someone sneezed. Loudly. From a bush.

A branch cracked under someone else’s boot.

Chaos resumed.

“You good?” Ethan appeared.

“I thought I saw something. Glowing eyes,” I uttered, but before Ethan could push further Joy called my name.

Handing me the map—a physical one, because Mr. Dax insisted on bringing one, which once saved our asses by the way—I knew we were officially, unquestionably, catastrophically lost.

It looked like someone had printed it during the Cold War and then folded it into an origami bird for eighty years. Halfthe landmarks were smudges, and the other half were lies. But despite its ambiance I knew we were screwed.

“This is fine, right Clark?” Joy said, her voice way too cheerful for the situation. “It’s not like we needed direction on this school-funded trip into the wilderness.”

I didn't respond.

“I found us,” Max announced triumphantly, jabbing the map.

“You’re pointing at the lake,” Shun said with more enthusiasm than she should have. Clearly, their relationship had taken a vacation. “We're nowhere near a lake.”

Max turned the map sideways, after dramatically staring at Shun. “What about now?”

“That’s the compass rose!”

“Oh.”

Mia zoomed in on the map with her phone. Her battery promptly died, possibly out of spite. She sighed like a tragic soap opera heroine and tossed the phone dramatically into her backpack.

I stared at the horizon, resisting the urge to curl into the fetal position. “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “As in, the point on the map labeled ‘here be nothing.’”

Shun nudged Joy. “Or worse. Influencers.”

Ethan had taken off his hoodie and was using it to fan himself like some kind of off-brand forest prince. “This is fine,” he said. “Nature’s great. Love it. So much dirt. And bugs. And birds that hate me.”

“Again,” Joy reminded him, “you flirted with an eagle.”

“It had mysterious eyes.”

“It had murder eyes, Ethan,” I muttered.

Max sighed deeply and threw himself onto the grass like he was auditioning for a

wilderness-themed fragrance commercial. “Maybe if I fake my death, a helicopter will find us.”

“Or a vulture,” Shun muttered.

I checked my phone—no service. I checked Mia’s phone—also no service. I even checked Mr. Dax’s phone while he snored loudly in the bus like a warthog with sinus issues. His lock screen was a motivational quote: “Every misstep is a step forward.” Inspiring. Also deeply ironic.

“The motel’s twenty-seven miles away,” I finally said. “We wouldn’t make it even if we left now and started sprinting like our GPA depended on it.”

Joy raised her hand. “I vote we don’t do that.”

“Seconded,” Mia said. “Also, this isn’t my fault. I dropped one camera, not our collective sense of direction.”

“Blame Mr. Dax,” I said. “He took itinerary duty after Principal Catherine was unimpressed by our budgeting.”

I sighed and then glared at the forest. “So now we’re spontaneous. And stranded.”

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