Page 89 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

Ethan blinked groggily as he struggled to fight his way awake. “Why are you so loud?”

Max ignored him, kicking his seat. For a brief second, I thought that Max was going to break the surprise birthday news, but he didn't. “Get up. Seriously. There’s a river nearby. Clear as glass, and definitely not cursed by ancient woodland spirits. Probably.”

I sat up straighter. “You found a river?”

Max grinned like he’d just discovered buried treasure. “Heard it. It’s not far. You can smell the freshness, man. It’s practically begging for us to go get clean.”

Ethan, rubbing sleep from his eyes, muttered something incoherent that vaguely sounded like, “Yeah, okay,” and slowly stretched his arms above his head, like one of the Hollywood stars pausing for a photo.

Max glanced at the crowd. “Everyone who wants to stop smelling like bus socks and despair—river trip in five!”

Like he had just blown a mystical conch shell, students began stirring. Joy sat up with a yawn, and Mia was already digging in her bag for a towel. Even the jocks were excited, probably because it was another opportunity to splash water and yell at each other like wet gorillas.

I was the last to move. Not because I didn’t want to shower—believe me, I was beginning to smell like bottled anxiety—but because being left alone on a school bus in the middle of the woods sounded like the beginning of a horror film. The kind where the socially awkward character who "just stayed behind" never makes it past the opening credits. Besides the idea ofshowering with this crowd? Yeah, my social anxiety filled a social protest.

So, I followed.

Through the tall grass, over the occasional muddy patch, and into the kind of humid silence that made every twig snap sound like a gunshot. The others had already vanished ahead, their laughter echoing somewhere between the trees. I clutched my towel like a security blanket and told myself this was character development.

The river turned out to be obnoxiously beautiful. Trees hung low around the banks like leafy curtains. The water sparkled as it weaved around smooth stones, its gentle rush the only soundtrack save for the birds and Max’s unnecessary narration about “primal cleansing rituals.” Joy was already wading into the water, laughing as she splashed Mia, who was trying and failing to hold her phone recorder above her head while dodging attacks. The jocks, naturally, dove straight in like sea lions in a splash zone. Someone slipped and face-planted with a loud sploosh, followed by applause. It was all very National Geographic: High School Edition.

I took a seat on the nearest large rock, wrapped my towel around me, and stared dramatically into the distance like a forest prince exiled from his homeland.

And then Ethan took off his shirt.

Every part of me tensed.

I looked away instantly. No chance. I wasn’t going down that visual rabbit hole today. Not in the middle of nature. Not when I was already emotionally fragile from sleeping uprightnext to a window that could break anytime and dreaming about squirrels robbing me.

“Clark!” Max called from midstream. “You coming in or what?”

I gave him a thumbs down like a Roman emperor at a gladiator match. “Nope.”

“Why not?” Joy chimed in. “It’s warm!”

“Because this,” I said, gesturing at the gently flowing river like I was presenting a cursed artifact, “is how horror stories begin. Skinny nerd goes into the woods, joins the cool kids in water, and bam—dragged down by an angry water demon. I’m not giving the local cryptid a free meal.”

Max cackled. “Clark, it’s literally just water.”

“It’s never just water, Max.”

Joy narrowed her eyes. “You look too comfortable out there.”

I sensed danger. “Joy. Don’t you da—”

SPLOOSH.

A wave of ice-cold river water smacked my legs with the precision of a missile. I yelped and scrambled backward on the rock like a frightened cat.

“JOY!” I screeched, checking if my shoes were soaked. They were. “I liked being dry!”

She just grinned like she had done the world a favor. “Now you match the vibe.”

As I debated the ethics of pushing her deep down into the river via telekinesis, Shun, sitting a few rocks away like a quiet forest witch, blinked at her phone and frowned.

“Hey,” she said, holding it up, “I think we have network again.”

Buzz.

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