Page 90 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

My phone vibrated so hard in my hoodie pocket I thought it might combust. Notifications exploded onto my screen like a digital apocalypse: missed calls, texts, and—to top it all off—one semi-aggressive email from my freelance client asking about a deadline I might have ghosted.

I winced at the email, but before I could do anything about it, my mom's face popped on the screen.

Incoming video call.

Great.

I hesitated, but there was no escape. If I didn’t answer, they’d call again. And again. And again. Not to mention they already had. Thrice.

Sighing, I tapped the screen, forcing a smile as my parents’ faces appeared.

“Clark!” Mom beamed, practically pressing her face against the camera. “There’s my boy!”

Dad, slightly more reserved but still smiling, nodded in greeting. “Hey, kiddo.”

“You didn’t pick up the last three calls,” Mom added, voice lined with mild concern. “We thought something happened.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said quickly. “Network issues. We’re kinda… remote.”

They squinted in unison.

“Remote?” Dad echoed, eyes narrowing. “Clark… are you in a forest?”

Mom leaned closer to the screen, baffled. “That’s definitely a tree. That’s several trees. Clark, are you lost in a forest?”

“What? No!” I half-laughed. “It’s just, uh… nature stuff. Documentary location scouting.”

“Scouting? Without adult supervision?” Mom asked, tone rising.

“We have supervision,” I lied. “Mr. Dax is… somewhere. Asleep. But totally aware.”

Dad blinked. “Asleep and aware?”

“Duality,” I said with a straight face.

Mom stared at me. “You’re being weird.”

“You look… different,” she added, narrowing her eyes. “Are you smiling more than usual?”

“No,” I lied instantly.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You seem happier.”

I forced a neutral expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mom gasped dramatically. “Is it a girl?”

I choked on my own breath. “What?! No! What—where did that even—what?”

Dad chuckled. “Your mother’s been watching too many romance dramas.”

Mom ignored him, eyes locked on me like a hawk. “You’re acting strange. Is it someone special?”

“No one is special, Mom,” I deadpanned.

“Hm.” She didn’t look convinced. “You’d tell us if you had a secret romance, right?”

Dad smirked. “More importantly, do we approve of this hypothetical person?”

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