Miss Buttcheeks clasped her hands together. "See? Nora joining! That means you have to join too!"
"That is the opposite of what that means," I said flatly.
"You're outnumbered," Ryen added, nudging me with his elbow. "Three to one."
"I'm not being outnumbered," I snapped. "This isn't a mutiny. I already picked my clubs."
"And yet," Nora said, tilting her head just slightly, "you haven't actually submitted your form yet."
"Technicality," I muttered.
She leaned in a bit closer, voice quieter, but still dead serious. "Then there's still time to reconsider."
I stared at her.
Was she threatening me into joining the Cooking Club?
Was this where my life had gone?
"Y-You know," Miss Buttcheeks stammered, eyes wide, "you don't have to join just for me. I mean… I'd like it if you did. But it's not like I'd cry if you didn't. I mean, not in front of people. Probably."
This. Was. A nightmare.
And the worst part?
