Chapter 7
Packing The Bus
Colin pulled into the lot just after seven a.m., Joshua beside him, travel mugs of morning coffee steaming between them. The morning was cool and misty, that particular Virginia summer quality where the air felt thick enough to taste.
“There it is,” Joshua said softly.
The bus sat in the Rainier Clinic parking area, a bright yellow promise. Today they’d pack the supplies that would carry them through the next two weeks, and tomorrow the outreach tour began.
Colin put the car in park but didn’t immediately get out. He sat, hands on the wheel, staring at the vehicle that would be their home, their workspace, their sanctuary for the next sixteen days.
“Second thoughts?” Joshua asked, voice carefully neutral.
“Hundredth thoughts,” Colin admitted. “But none of them are going to stop me.”
Joshua’s hand found his and squeezed. “Glad to hear it.”
“You think it’ll rain?” Colin teased, reminding him of last year’s Camp Pride, day-one downpour.
“If it does, I’m blaming you!”
They climbed out into the cool morning air. The clinic’s back door opened, and Alex’s therapist, Ryan, emerged carrying a banker’s box, Sharon and Paul right behind him, their arms full of supplies.
“Morning!” Ryan called, his voice bright with excitement. “Ready to play Tetris with a tour bus?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Colin said.
Trent pulled in next, hopping out of his truck with a travel mug. “Took her out for a spin yesterday,” he called, nodding toward the bus. “She handles like a dream. Bit of a wide turn radius, but nothing I can’t manage.”
He moved to Colin’s side. “We’re going to want to stop every two or three hours,” he told him. “Bathroom breaks, stretch legs, check on everyone. This thing isn’t built for marathon drives.”
“Agreed,” Colin said, grinning. “Did you enjoy your joy trip?”
“Hey, I’m not taking six people on the road without knowing what I’m doing.” Trent assessed the scene. “So where do you need me?”
“Heavy lifting,” Joshua said immediately. “And making sure Colin doesn’t hurt himself.”
“What? And put myself out of work?” Trent replied with a grin. “Josh, it’s been months since he broke his ankle. He’s fine.”
Paul set down his box with a grunt while Sharon surveyed the bus with a practiced eye. “Cargo area in the back?”
“A big one,” Trent told her. “That’s where the heavy stuff goes. Sleeping bags, extra supplies, anything we won’t need during transit.”
“Smart.” Sharon was already moving toward the vehicle, clearly ready to take charge of the spatial logistics.
Joshua popped the trunk of their car, revealing their contribution—two duffel bags, a cooler, a box of carefully packed tech supplies, Colin’s stack of legal papers, and emergency protocols.
“You labeled everything,” Colin observed.
“Of course, I labeled everything,” Joshua said. “Do you want to be digging through unmarked boxes at midnight trying to find the first aid kit?”
Colin smiled despite himself. “This,” he said, pointing at the boxes. “This is why I married you.”
“One of many reasons,” Joshua agreed, hauling out the cooler.
In the backseat rested the box containing Joshua’s carefully developed resource guides.
Professionally printed and assembled, each three-ring binder labeled in clean block lettering: OUTREACH TOUR PLAYBOOK.
Joshua stared down at them, feeling a mixture of gratification and the quiet question that had followed him for days: Will it be enough?
Nate arrived twenty minutes later in his aging Subaru, the back seat and trunk packed so full he’d been forced to put the passenger seat down to fit it all.
“I may have overprepared,” he announced, surveying his haul.
“May have?” Colin raised an eyebrow and elbowed Trent, who snickered.
“Definitely have,” Nate corrected. “But in my defense, I wasn’t sure what we’d need, so now we have options.”
He started unloading: three boxes of spiral notebooks, two boxes of gel pens, bags of books and art supplies.
“Is that a portable speaker?” Joshua asked, pointing to a small rectangular cube.
“For music during downtime,” Nate explained. “I made playlists. Calming, energizing—I’ve got a whole system.”
Colin and Joshua exchanged a look.
“It’s going to be a long sixteen days,” Colin murmured.
“But never boring,” Joshua replied.
Nate was oblivious, already lugging his first box toward the bus. “Where do you want the notebooks? These are for my journaling workshops—blank pages, plain-colored covers in various shades, completely non-prescriptive. Kids can use them however they need.”
“That’s actually perfect,” Joshua said, following him. “Subtle enough not to out them, visible enough that our kids know they’re welcome.”
Nate beamed. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
Trent spotted him and moved to his side. “No, Nate! Don’t just set that in the cargo area. We have to secure all these supplies so they don’t bounce all over the place every time we go around a corner. Just leave it. I’ll label it and make sure it’s safe.” He pointed. “Set it there.”
Nate and Joshua exchanged a look and set Nate’s box of notebooks and pens where Trent indicated.
Sharon stood aside to let them pass, mentally calculating the space and weight distribution as if she were planning a military operation.
“Put things we’ll need access to during stops under the seats,” she told her husband. “Luggage and other supplies in the back where Trent can secure them.”
Paul appeared beside her, lugging another box. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shot him a look. “Don’t ‘yes ma’am’ me. You know I’m right.”
“I do know that,” he agreed mildly. “That’s why I’m doing exactly what you’re telling me to do.”
Ryan emerged from inside the bus. “I’ve got a tech station set up in one of the rear seats—power strips, charging cables, laptop storage. You can keep everything powered up during transit. You guys can run WIFI off of someone’s iPhone hotspot.”
“Good.” Sharon checked her clipboard—of course she had one. “We’ve still got the sleeping bags, the coolers, the workshop materials, and everyone’s personal luggage.”
“And the rest of my boxes,” Nate called from where he was stacking notebooks.
“And Nate’s many, many boxes,” Sharon amended dryly, then pointed. “Oh, come on, Nate!”
“They’re essential!” Nate protested.
“Twelve different colors of gel pens are not essential.”
“They are for me!”
Sharon sighed and pointed to an empty area next to the food supplies. “I’d better see you using every single color!”
Alex arrived last, pedaling up on his bike with his backpack and a single duffel bag bungeed to the rear rack.
He stopped at the lot’s edge, watching the organized chaos, feeling suddenly even younger than his years. In less than twenty-four hours, they’d be on the road—to Farmville, to kids who needed what he’d needed a year ago.
What if he messed it up? Said the wrong thing?
“Hey.”
Alex started. Colin had appeared beside him, hands in his pockets, looking at the bus with the same mix of eagerness and anxiety that Alex himself felt.
“You OK?” Colin asked.
“Yeah,” Alex said automatically. Then, more honestly: “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Colin nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Colin’s mouth quirked, and he shrugged. “New place, new people, new experience. Yeah. A little nervous.”
Alex looked back at the bus. “What if I’m not good at it? The outreach stuff?”
“Then you’ll get better as we go along,” Colin assured him. “Nobody’s expecting you to be perfect, Alex. Show up. Be honest. Be yourself.”
Alex’s throat tightened, but he nodded.
“Come on,” Colin said. “Let’s get your stuff loaded. And fair warning—Sharon’s running this operation like a drill sergeant, so follow orders.”
That drew a smile. “Oh, hell,” Alex muttered, poking Colin with an elbow. “She’s always like that. Paul and I are used to it.”
He grabbed his duffel and followed Colin toward the bus.
Joshua stood inside, helping Sharon organize the cargo area for the tenth time. He spotted Alex clambering through the back door of the bus and smiled.
“Alex!” he called with a grin. “Perfect timing. We need someone with small hands to reach the back corner.”
Alex handed his bag to Trent, who stored it under a seat, then moved to where Joshua stood. “What’s back there?”
“Box of emergency supplies that Ryan shoved too far back. Sharon’s having a fit about it.”
“I can heeeeear you,” Sharon crooned from the rear.
“I knoooow,” Joshua replied cheerfully.
Alex grinned at his foster mother. The bus smelled like new upholstery and possibility. Seats lined both sides, rear compartment already half-full.
“Here,” Alex told Joshua, reaching for the missing object. “I can get it.”
He stretched, fingers finding the edge of a box. “Is this what you need?” He pulled it forward and handed it to Sharon.
“Thank you.” She checked the label and passed it to Joshua. “This should be up by Trent,” she told him. “It needs to be accessible—first aid kit, emergency contacts, all the things we might need in a hurry.”
Joshua nodded and carried it toward the front of the bus, where Trent was already spreading out his belongings.
Sharon rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, something soft in her expression. “You ready for this, sweetie?”
“I think so,” Alex said. Then drew in a deep breath. “Mom, I’m nervous.”
“Good. Means you’re taking it seriously.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re going to be great.”
Alex shook his head and smirked as he jumped out the back door. “Mothers always think that.”
Witnessing the exchange, Joshua smiled. Sixteen days, he thought. And sixteen nights, sleeping on floors in buildings they didn’t control, in communities where not everyone wanted them there.
He’d told Colin they couldn’t let fear control their decisions. He believed that.
“Hey.”
He turned. Colin stood in the aisle, holding a box of workshop materials.
“Where do you want this?”
“Um,” Joshua looked around, pulling himself back to the present. “Maybe ask Trent? He’s making sure all the supplies are battened down.”
Colin leaned close. “You’ve got that ‘I’m about to spiral’ look on your face,” he said quietly.
“Little bit,” Joshua admitted.
“Let it go,” Colin ordered, then gestured toward the parking lot.
Through the bus windows, Joshua could see Sharon directing traffic with her clipboard.
Paul hauling boxes with steady composure.
Ryan and Nate debating the merits of different organizational systems. Alex carefully checking his luggage, his face serious and focused.
“We’ve got a team,” Colin said. “A damned good one. We’re going to be OK.”
Joshua leaned into him slightly. “And we’ve got each other.”
“Damned right.”
By ten-thirty, the cargo hold was packed, secured, and organized. Everyone stood in a loose circle in the parking lot, surveying their work.
Colin glanced at his watch. “OK. Last call for anything we forgot. Because once we’re on the road tomorrow, we’re working with what we’ve got.”
“I think we’re good,” Sharon said, scanning her clipboard one more time.
“Emergency contacts programmed into everyone’s phones?” Colin asked.
Nods all around.
“And we’ve got the venues’ addresses loaded into the GPS?”
“All set,” Trent confirmed. “I’ve got the route mapped, including rest stops and gas stations.”
Colin looked at Alex. “You good, kiddo?”
Alex nodded, but his hand tightened on his water bottle.
Colin moved closer, voice dropping. “Listen. When we get to each stop, I’m going to do a quick walkthrough—check the doors, find the exits, and make sure we know the layout. It’s not because I think something’s going to happen. It’s just being smart. OK?”
“OK,” Alex said.
“And if anything—and I mean anything—feels wrong to you, you tell me. Immediately. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Colin squeezed his shoulder, then stepped back. “All right. Everyone, go home. Get some sleep. We leave at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Farmville’s about three hours, so we’ll be there by mid-morning. Alex, store your bike inside the clinic. You can grab it when you get back.”
Ryan, who had been helping Trent secure the cargo area, wheeled Alex’s bike toward the clinic door. “I’ll store it in my office. No problem.”
“Farmville,” Alex said quietly, testing the word as he watched Ryan enter Rainier Clinic with his bike.
“Farmville,” Colin confirmed.
They stood there for another moment, looking at the yellow bus—fully loaded now, ready to carry them into uncertain territory.
Sharon moved first, pulling Alex into a hug. “Ok, sweetie. Let’s head home. We have to be up bright and early.”
One by one, they dispersed—Trent to his truck, Nate to his overloaded Subaru, Sharon, Paul, and Alex talking quietly on their way out.
Colin and Joshua remained, standing beside their vehicle, looking at the bus.
“You ready for this?” Joshua asked.
Colin was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned to face his husband. “No. But—hey. The bus is packed.” He shrugged and rested a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
Joshua’s hand covered his.
They stood there a moment longer. The bus gleamed in the late-morning sun, yellow and bright, impossibly full of hope.
Tomorrow, they’d climb aboard and head out.
Everything would change.
Tonight, Colin would hold Joshua close and try not to think about all the things he couldn’t control.
“Come on,” Joshua said softly. “Let’s go home. Take advantage of our last peaceful day.”
Colin nodded, gave the bus one last look, then turned to get into his car.
Behind them, the bus waited—patient, ready, full of everything they’d need for the journey ahead.
Tomorrow, it would carry them toward Farmville—toward kids who were waiting, toward whatever came next.
Colin started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, Joshua’s hand warm in his.
The bus grew smaller in the rearview mirror.
By tomorrow, it would be their whole world.