Page 10

I had created the map, drafted half of the plan, and was the smartest one in this group, so I should have blamed it all on myself.

But I had made a terrible mistake. Not about the budget—that was on another level of mistakes.

I was talking about starting our documentary on a mountain.

No, seriously. A mountain. I was not built for this.

I was built for books, firm ground, and the occasional panic attack—not climbing steep inclines.

"Why... why did we have to start with a mountain?” I panted, bent over with my hands on my knees, knowing I was the reason in the first place. I wiped off a sheen of sweat from my forehead, trying to pretend I wasn’t dying.

Shun, walking beside me with all the energy of a very unfazed person, barely spared me a glance. "It’s a hill, dude."

I shot her an exhausted glare. "It is a mountain, Shun. It has a peak."

She shrugged like she wasn’t personally offending me. "It’s not that big."

"Then why does it feel like I’m walking straight into the afterlife?!"

Max jogged past me as if he was going for a casual Saturday morning run. "Maybe because your lungs have the stamina of a goldfish?"

I glared at him. "Max, please, for the love of everything, just shut up."

He grinned, not remotely fazed. "Nah, this is too fun. Also, side note, you run like an overfed pigeon. It's kinda awesome."

I was too out of breath to argue.

Up ahead, Joy turned around, grinning like the class clown she was. "Clark, did you know breathing is a free service? You should try it."

I resisted the urge to throw a rock at her. Mostly because I didn’t have the arm strength for it at this point.

Meanwhile, Ethan—who had not broken a sweat—ran a hand through his perfectly styled golden hair and sighed dramatically. "Wow, Clark. This is embarrassing. Even I thought you’d last longer than this."

I flipped him off. I would have said something more creative, but unfortunately, my lungs were too busy fighting for their life.

Mr. Dax was the only person who had managed to be worse than Ethan, Max, and some other jocks this entire climb. He turned around from his spot at the front, crossed his arms, and gave me The Look. The one that said he was out of patience but also legally required to let me keep breathing.

"Move it, Alderman! We don’t have all day to wait for your lungs to catch up!"

Max gave me a light shove forward, all too happy to help. "You heard the man, Clark! Hustle!"

I mumbled something about educators needing to be supportive but forced my legs to keep moving.

By the time we reached the top of Mt. Cain, I collapsed onto a rock, sprawled out dramatically. "Leave me here... I belong to the mountain now..."

"Too bad," Joy said, handing me the camera without an ounce of sympathy. "You’re the nerd.

You have to identify all the animals while we make this award-winning documentary."

"But you're the wildlife club captain," I complained.

She gave me that look like, ‘I’m not the smartest one in the room.’

I groaned, reluctantly taking the camera. "Fine. But we have to make it perfect. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Ethan leaned in, his voice dripping with amusement. "So, what you’re saying is... if we mess it up, we’ve ruined everything?"

I twitched. "Yes, obviously."

Ethan smirked. "Noted." That smirk.

Max threw an arm around my shoulders, nearly knocking me over. "Aw, don’t stress, buddy! If we mess up, we’ll just tell the judges it was 'abstract cinema' and hope for the best."

I sighed. "That’s not how this works, Max."

"That’s exactly how this works," he shot back.

I decided to ignore both of them. Mostly because acknowledging them would shorten my lifespan.

I adjusted the camera, carefully focusing on a nest in one of the trees lining the crater’s edge.

The nest was large, tangled with twigs and strange blue leaves, and sitting inside it was a very interesting bird.

Its feathers shimmered in the sunlight, shifting between green and gold.

Even more fascinating—it had three eyes.

I began filming. "Okay, let’s start. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a rare—"

And then Shun stepped too close to the edge and kicked a rock into the crater.

The resulting noise was loud.

The bird—clearly offended at our presence—let out an unholy screech and immediately launched into the air, wings flapping aggressively as it dive-bombed straight for us.

"Uh-oh," Joy said.

"Oh no," I whispered.

"Oh yes," Ethan grinned.

And then? Mayhem.

The bird swooped down like it had personally declared war on us.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the camera, turned, and bolted. "ABORT MISSION! ABORT!"

"Don’t run, just stay still—" Shun tried to say, but then Joy grabbed her arm and yanked her along. "Nope, we are NOT being bird food today!"

Meanwhile, Ethan? Ethan was laughing. Laughing. He casually sidestepped as the bird nearly clipped him, looking like this was hilarious.

I hated him.

Max, instead of running, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the bird. "brING IT ON, FEATHERFACE!"

"Max, SHUT UP!" Shun snapped, dragging him away before he could get himself murdered.

"Why is this happening?" I shouted, ducking behind a rock as the bird made another round.

"Because," Joy yelled as she crouched behind a fallen tree, "we chose to film a horror documentary, apparently!"

Mr. Dax, who had had it up to here with us, clapped his hands loudly. "ENOUGH! We are here to document nature, not be chased by it! Alderman, focus!"

I took a slow breath. Fine. I could do this. I peeked over the boulder, spotting the bird settling back in its nest. Good. No more death threats.

"Okay," I said. "Everyone stay silent this time. No sudden moves. No distractions. No—"

Ethan casually tapped my shoulder. "Hey, what’s that crawling on your shoe?"

I looked down.

I regretted everything.

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!"

I flung my shoe off so fast it could have qualified as a sports event. A small, very ugly creature—a cross between a centipede and a very unfortunate spaghetti noodle—flopped onto the ground and scurried away.

Max clutched his chest dramatically. "Clark, that was the most athletic thing I’ve ever seen you do. I’m so proud."

"Shut up, Max."

Joy, of course, was recording the entire thing. "Clark, you’re so brave," she deadpanned.

"Shut up, Joy."

Mr. Dax pinched the bridge of his nose like he was seriously reconsidering his career choices. "For the last time, FOCUS!"

I sighed, picking up my camera again. I adjusted the lens, zoomed in on the bird, and finally, finally started filming properly.

"This is the rare Triocular Crestwing," I narrated, keeping my voice steady. "A highly territorial species known for its iridescent plumage and its three eyes, which allow it to spot potential threats from multiple angles—"

"Like us," Ethan murmured.

I glared at him.

He grinned.

I forced myself to ignore him, continuing. "It is known to nest in high-altitude environments, preferring—"

I paused, squinting through the camera.

Something was wrong.

The nest was... empty.

The bird was gone.

And I had a very bad feeling.

"Um," I said, lowering the camera. "Where did it—"

Before I could finish, the bird swooped down out of nowhere, and I barely had time to react before—

THWAP.

The camera was knocked out of my hands, the force of it sending me stumbling backward.

Joy gasped. "Clark! Are you—"

I held up a hand. "I’m fine."

A pause.

Ethan leaned in. "You sure? Because that was—"

"I am fine," I repeated, dying on the inside.

Shun picked up the camera, inspecting it. "Well… good news: the camera still works."

Mr. Dax crossed his arms. "And the bad news?"

"Clark’s dignity does not."

I groaned.

Ethan patted my back sympathetically. "You tried, buddy."

"Shut up, Ethan."

Final Documentary Report:

Footage collected? Barely.

Personal injuries? Surprisingly minimal.

Clark’s patience? Completely destroyed.

Would I do this again? Absolutely not.

The perfect shot?

Not even close.