Eliza froze.
The busy sidewalk continued to move around them, but the space between the three of them went entirely still.
Anna stood beside Mark, looking just as bewildered as the high school girl in front of them. The request was absurd. It completely broke the social expectations of a random street encounter.
A few moments passed. Eliza finally recovered from the shock.
"Mr. Mark, I'm sorry if I'll be blunt," Eliza said, her tone hardening. She tilted her head and gave him a look of pure skepticism. "But what you are saying is insane. Why would I do that?"
"We need it for advertisement," Mark replied smoothly and kept his posture relaxed, showing absolutely no sign of intimidation. "Don't worry, I'll pay you an advertising fee. Just one post on your account. It wouldn't hurt, will it?"
Eliza frowned, clearly struggling to follow the logic. "Ads? I don't get it. Why do you need ads for a university dance contest?"
"It's for promotion," Mark explained while maintaining eye contact. "If people see your post on social media, they might actually hire the winning group for real gigs. It elevates the competition from a simple school event to a professional opportunity."
Eliza still did not understand the real motive, and she was not about to just accept a vague explanation from a stranger. She crossed her arms. "Then why me specifically? And how did you even know my name? We've never spoken before."
Mark did not flinch.
I already prepared answers for all of this. I had mapped out the conversation tree before he even stepped foot near her campus. Every possible question had a calculated response ready to deploy. This is easy.
"Eliza, you might not know this," Mark said, letting a small, respectful smile touch his lips. "But you are quite popular at our school. I've heard your name mentioned by other guys on campus. And your follower count is sitting right at one hundred thousand. The last time I checked, you have the highest local reach of anyone nearby."
Mark kept his face perfectly sincere.
Technically, claiming she was popular among the university boys wasn't a lie. A few guys in his engineering class followed her account. Not many, but in his own subjective judgment, having even a handful of college guys recognize a high school girl constituted a form of popularity. It was a slight manipulation of scale, but it was not a lie subjectively. It was just a highly filtered truth.
"If I refuse?" Eliza challenged, her eyes narrowing.
Mark did not hesitate.
I already prepared for this. If she shuts the door, I would just walk away and execute Plan B or Plan C. There is no reason to push a failing strategy.
"If you refuse, there is nothing we can do," Mark said, his voice completely level. "But I hope you will at least consider it."
He watched her face and waited for the counter-offer.
I hope the price of her ads for posting on I-Gram is actually achievable. If she asks for a real, professional influencer rate, that would be a serious problem.
He had already planned a strategy to borrow the necessary funds to pay her, but his budget wasn't infinite.
It was just one post and it shouldn't be that expensive, right? I just needed to get her to agree to the concept first.
Eliza fell silent. She stared at him and weighed the bizarre interaction. She was not speaking. The seconds ticked by.
Mark decided to break the tension. Dragging out an awkward silence usually resulted in a negative response. He needed to show he was willing to walk away.
"Thanks for your time, Ms. Eliza," Mark said, taking a half-step back. "We'll head home now. Please think about it."
He reached toward his bag.
Right, I should write my contact info for her on a piece of paper.
He started to pull the zipper.
"I accept," Eliza said.
Mark's hand stopped moving. His eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. He had not expected her to fold that quickly without discussing the fee.
"On one condition," Eliza added, a sudden, challenging spark lighting up her pretty features. "Crack a joke."
Mark stared at her.
"If you can make me laugh," Eliza promised, crossing her arms again. "I'll do it. Free of charge."
Mark froze.
I did not expect this. This wasn't in the calculation.
He had prepared financial negotiations, logical arguments, and social flattery. He had not prepared a stand-up comedy routine for a high school influencer on a crowded sidewalk.
"Are you doing it or not?" Eliza asked, tapping her foot impatiently.
"I'm doing it," Mark said instantly.
He did not have time to hesitate.
This is too sudden. I'm not prepared. Oh well, here goes nothing.
He desperately searched his memory for something remotely funny.
Mark cleared his throat and looked her right in the eye, maintaining an absolutely deadpan, serious expression.
"A blind man walks into a bar," Mark started, his voice completely flat. "And a table. And a chair."
The busy sidewalk noise seemed to amplify the terrible delivery.
Around them, the afternoon crowd kept walking. A sudden gust of wind rustled the nearby trees and pushed a dry leaf across the hot concrete pavement.
Mark watched her face carefully and waited for a small smile or perhaps a sudden laugh as he clenched his damp hands inside his pockets. She remained still. The joke probably fell flat.
Nothing.
Silence descended on their small group.
Ten seconds passed. Eliza just stared at him. She did not budge. Not a single muscle in her face twitched. Her expression was a wall of absolute, unreadable stone.
Anna, standing next to Mark, physically cringed, covering her face with one hand.
Mark felt the heavy, crushing awkwardness settle over his shoulders. He let out a slow, defeated sigh.
"I guess I failed," Mark muttered and dropped his gaze to the pavement. The joke did not work. He had to walk away before the situation got any more embarrassing.
"Thanks for your time, Ms. Eliza," Mark said quickly. "We'll be going now."
I guess I have to execute my plan B or C. I'll be back.
He turned around and started walking fast, not bothering to look back.
"Wait!" Anna yelled, scrambling to catch up with his long strides. She hurried down the sidewalk and casted one last confused look at the high school girl before following him away from the gate.
---
The next day arrived with the dull heat of the afternoon.
It was P.E. day. The large, open gymnasium smelled of floor wax and stale sweat. The class met once a week, and it had been exactly seven days since the professor dropped the announcement of the mandatory dance contest.
The period finally ended. The professor dismissed them, and the thirty-nine students began to gather their bags, eager to escape the humid building. The large group of twenty students assigned to Mark's half of the room immediately started fracturing into their usual, exclusive cliques. They were ready to scatter, just like they did last week.
Mark grabbed his backpack and kept his head down. He was trying to figure out how to salvage the disaster from yesterday and planning to execute Plan B he had prepared.
But...
Suddenly, a loud scrape echoed across the gym floor.
Jake stood up from his spot on the bleachers. Not grabbing his bag. He stepped directly into the center of the open floor and placed himself right in the middle of the dispersing crowd.
"Guys," Jake called out. His voice was loud, carrying easily across the large space.
The nineteen students stopped walking. They turned to look at the tall, confident leader of the extroverts.
"Let's take the dance contest seriously," Jake announced, looking around the scattered groups. He did not sound bored or annoyed. He sounded entirely focused. "Let's practice every day... Yeah?"
The entire gym went dead silent.
Sheila, standing near the back with her gaming group, physically twitched. Her eyes darted toward Jake in total disbelief. Chloe, standing with her fashion friends, stopped mid-sentence, her jaw dropping slightly.
Over by the gymnasium doors, Anna and Gilbert simultaneously whipped their heads around. They did not look at Jake. They stared directly at Mark, their eyes wide with absolute, terrifying shock.
Mark froze. He stood perfectly still, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack.
---
Miles away, on a completely different campus, the afternoon sun beat down on a quiet, tree-lined street.
Eliza was walking home. Her expensive leather bag swung rhythmically against her hip. She passed the busy intersections and turned onto a long, isolated stretch of road near her neighborhood. There was no one else around.
She stopped walking.
She pressed a hand hard over her mouth. Her shoulders started to shake.
A loud, uncontrollable laugh burst through her fingers. She bent forward, clutching her stomach as the laughter echoed down the empty street.
"Damn," Eliza gasped, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She tried to catch her breath, but another wave of giggles hit her. "I can't stop laughing since yesterday. That joke was completely ridiculous. Hahahaha."