Page 88 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.

This was a disaster. We were never going to fix his car.

It didn’t matter how well Ethan had edited it—our footage itself was a mess. We were supposed to be capturing the beauty of nature, but instead, we had somehow created a chaotic comedy documentary. And best believe our chances of winning were down by 90%.

With a deep sigh, I closed the laptop before my soul could fully leave my body.

I let my head sink into the seat, already drafting an apology email Principal Catherine in my mind—something along the lines of “We tried our best, but nature refused to cooperate.” Maybe if I stayed still enough, the guilt would pass as sleep.

Then—

A loud knock on the window startled me just as I was about to lie back down and pretend the morning didn’t exist.

My heart did a somersault. I sat up, eyes darting to the window like I had a personal vendetta against it.

“Clark, open up!”

Max.

Of course it was Max. Who else would be wide awake in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and mosquitoes, with the energy of a caffeinated squirrel?

I shot a glance at Ethan, still snoring softly in his seat. Sighing, I shuffled over and slid the window open an inch.

Max’s face popped in like a horror movie jump scare.

“Get out here,” he whispered, far too urgently for someone who definitely had zero life-threatening reasons to be excited.

Before I could argue, he disappeared from view. I groaned and tiptoed down the narrow bus aisle, stepping over someone’s sock and what I hoped wasn’t a leftover meat stick. I eased open the bus door with a squeak that felt criminally loud in the forest silence.

Max immediately grabbed my wrist and yanked me off the bus like we were fleeing a crime scene.

“What—” I began, but he clamped a hand over my mouth.

“Shh! This is important.” His eyes darted through the trees, like squirrels might be spying on us. “It’s Ethan’s birthday.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“His birthday,” he repeated, practically vibrating. “We’re throwing him a surprise party. Tonight.”

I stared, waiting for the punchline.

It didn’t come.

“You’re serious?”

Max nodded, grinning like a camp counselor on sugar. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Our golden boy deserves something big—even if it’s just a balloon and a cake from a gas station.”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t care—it’s hard to be completely heartless when the guy you’ve been lowkey avoiding might actually be kind of... not terrible—but because my brain was already spiraling. A birthday. A party. A gift. For Ethan.

Max must’ve seen the existential dread forming in my soul, because he patted my shoulder. “Relax, nerd. Just show up. We’ll handle the rest.”

And with that, he vanished into the woods like an overzealous woodland creature, probably off to enlist more victims for his party plan. Probably wild ghosts.

I stood there for a moment, still processing.

Then, with a deep breath, I headed back inside.

A while later, Max came back, waking everyone up. “Morning, Sleeping Beauties,” he announced, tossing an empty wrapper toward the trash bag near the front. He missed. It bounced off a seat and landed on someone’s shoe. He did not care.

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