Hardly; you can barely keep your eyes open

Calvary Christian School, Friday morning

You finally pull up to the school at ten minutes past five. The small school bus is already loaded, and Patrick is standing outside of it waiting for you. He approaches your car and opens the backseat. “Good morning,” he calls as he grabs your bag. “Nice of you to join us,” he adds with a smirk.

You step out of your car, locking it and dropping your keys in your purse. You playfully punch his arm. “Well, what do you expect? You kept me up half the night!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he smiles again. “But you can sleep on the bus. We’ve got a two-hour drive ahead of us. You can head to the field for the service – I’ll take care of your bag.”

When you arrive at the high school field, you see eight young men dressed in Sunday slacks and button-downs, sitting on folding chairs. One of them is playing a guitar. There are two open seats, and you take one, joining in to the familiar church songs and listening closely to the ones you haven’t learned yet.

When Patrick sits down beside you, you whisper “Where are the girls?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” he says. “This is just the boys’ trip.” Calvary Christian is a small co-ed school with just a few dozen students in each grade. This is most, but probably not all, of the boys who graduated last year. You haven’t met any of these boys; they all graduated before you arrived. It’s astonishing to think about what your little preschoolers will look like in 13 years.

After the service is over, everyone heads to the parking lot. Two of the boys, well-dressed with slick black hair, introduce themselves as Carlos and Miguel. They’re quite obviously twins, and they seem really sweet as they welcome you to their class and tell you they hope you have a great time on the trip. The rest of the boys are busy talking to one another, and you follow them onto the bus, taking a seat behind the driver.

Patrick boards, checks to be sure everyone’s there, and tells the driver he can hit the road. He hands you a soft pillow and slides into the seat beside you.

“Here,” he says gently. “Sorry about keeping you up. Get some rest.”

Gratefully you accept the pillow and prop it against the bus window. You snuggle into it and after only a few minutes, the rocking of the bus and the softness of the pillow help you succumb in your exhaustion to a deep sleep.