Chapter 8
Farmville
Colin frowned at it. “Maybe we should take that down.”
“Oh, to hell with it,” Joshua said, shivering in the morning air. “We are who we are. Let the world see it.”
Sharon and Paul’s car pulled in, then David’s big Chrysler.
“Now all we need is our driver,” Joshua said, handing Colin his mug as he watched David and Nate get out of the car and move to embrace.
Colin strolled over to where they stood. “Ready, rabble-rouser?” Then, before Nate could answer, he turned to David. “Figure out when you can join us?”
“Not yet—maybe the end of the tour,” David replied, then kissed Nate. “Behave. Call me tonight.”
“Will do,” Nate said, then wrapped both arms around David’s neck and held on tight. “Love you. Miss you.”
David returned the embrace, then turned to Colin. “Keep him safe,” he ordered, pointing a finger at his friend’s chest.
“Do my best,” Colin replied, grinning, then stepped back as David climbed back into his car.
Joshua waved as David’s car pulled past him and out onto the road. Then he walked to where Sharon, Paul, and Alex were standing in deep conversation.
“C’mon, Mom! I want to ride in the bus!”
“Honey, I’d feel better if you…”
“Oh, Sharon, let him ride with the guys,” Paul interrupted, one hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Hell, that’s where I’d want to be! That’s the fun ride!”
“We’ll keep an eye on him, Sharon,” Joshua assured her.
A loud, obnoxious noise filled the parking lot, and Joshua turned to see Trent’s van pulling up next to the bus. “God, I hate that horn of his,” he grumbled.
“Darlin’, I do believe that’s the reason the damn thing exists,” Colin replied.
He ruffled Alex’s hair, then moved to greet Trent, who had pulled two huge coffee carafes from the coffee holders and climbed out of his van.
He turned and handed both carafes to Colin.
“Up front by the driver’s seat,” he instructed, then slammed the door and moved to the back to grab his duffel.
“You leaving this here?” Colin asked, indicating Trent’s van as they turned and trudged together toward the bus.
“Yeah,” Trent said, shrugging. “Why not? This parking lot is secure. Jeff doesn’t need it.”
“Fine by me.”
Colin paused as Trent clambered past him and into the bus.
“What am I?” he asked Trent’s retreating back.
“Your coffee bearer?” He deposited the two carafes beside the driver’s seat, then moved to stand beside the open bus door for a moment, hands in the front pocket of his UVA Law hoodie, eyes taking in the scene before him.
From here, it almost looked choreographed: Joshua checking their car one last time for forgotten items, Sharon handing Alex a small bag filled with snacks, Alex giving her a final kiss before dashing toward the bus, his duffel slung across his back like a bandolier.
Behind him, Paul, carried two armloads of supplies, making a slow, steady path to the bus while Nate flew past Colin, bolting up the steps, and down the aisle to check his class supplies.
Right behind Nate, Alex scrambled past Colin and up the bus steps, a huge grin plastered on his face.
“What’s got you so happy?” Colin asked as he passed.
Joshua moved to Colin’s side and leaned against him. “Because he and Paul managed to coerce the drill instructor into letting him ride with us!” He pointed a finger up at Alex. “Buckle up.”
“Absolutely!” Trent fired back from his place in the driver’s seat. “Everyone buckles up!” He tossed a crumpled napkin at Colin’s head. “You daydreaming already?” he called, mouth twitching into a smile.
Colin shrugged as he climbed the bus steps. “Just enjoying the pre-meltdown calm,” he said. “You got the keys?”
“Of course, I have the keys.” He leaned out the door and hailed Joshua. “OK, Josh. You’re running this circus. Are we ready to go?”
Joshua moved past him to stand beside the driver’s seat, peering back into the bus. He checked every face, every set of hands. His pulse ticked in his throat, but his hands and voice were steady.
“For the record,” he said, voice pitched to accommodate the small space, “I may not be convinced this was the best idea we’ve ever had. But I do know there are people out there who need us—and we’re going to show up for them.”
A round of applause moved through the bus.
He shut his eyes for half a second, then opened them and looked at Colin, who was sitting behind Trent, a huge smile lighting his face as he gazed at Joshua.
“Close ’er up,” Colin told him. “Let’s roll!”
Joshua grinned, slammed the door handle down, and the bus was sealed.
Colin settled back as Joshua sat down beside him. For a moment, he stared at the windshield and the blank stretch of lot beyond. He could feel the bass thump of his heart, adrenaline and anxiety mixing into something that felt almost like hope.
Trent turned the key, and the bus rumbled to life.
It was 8:35 a.m, an hour past their scheduled getaway time. But they were finally underway.
By 9:05 a.m., the bus had swallowed thirty miles of cracked road; Virginia’s farmland faded from gray-gold to spring green. Sunlight turned the bus into a rolling greenhouse—damp heat, sweet air.
Trent held the wheel steady as they shot down a long, straight stretch of I-64, the bus’s shadow pacing them on the shoulder.
Every so often, he’d adjust his grip and tap the cruise control, keeping their speed a fraction under the limit.
Colin liked the methodical way Trent drove: no sudden moves, just the slow, patient devouring of miles.
Nate scrolled through his phone, searching for a playlist worthy of the open highway.
He sampled and discarded three songs before settling on a pop anthem with a chanted chorus.
The bass vibrated the seatbacks and the windows, and before long, Nate was humming along, off-key but deeply committed. Within minutes, Alex had joined in.
Trent snorted in amusement, glancing into the mirror. “I give it an hour before we’re all singing,” he said to no one in particular.
“Optimistic,” Joshua replied from his spot next to Colin.
“We’ll be lucky if we last thirty minutes.
” He stood, reached overhead, and pulled open the air vent, letting a gust of wind cut through the bus.
He inhaled, then let the air out in a slow, dramatic sigh, turning in his seat to address Colin.
“Hey. What’s first up at Farmville? I’m trying to remember what time the venue opens. ”
Colin scanned the schedule on his phone. “Eleven. But Kyle wants us there by ten thirty for a quick tour and to sign in at the main office. We’ll have about an hour to set up before the first kids arrive.”
Joshua nodded. “You want me to handle the main session? Or do you want to start with the drug safety talk?”
“Let’s see how the group shakes out,” Colin said. “But yeah, I can do the drug talk first, then you take lead on the listening circle.”
“Deal.”
The sudden, subtle deceleration was the first warning. Trent eased off the gas and flicked on the turn signal. Ahead, a battered sign announced Roadside McDonald’s: 1 Mile.
Joshua reached over and nudged Colin. “Rest stop,” he said. “You want to announce it?”
Colin grinned. “Why not?” He half-stood and called out, “Twenty-minute break, people! Use the bathroom, stretch your legs, grab some fries, and try not to break anything that isn’t ours.”
The sound of whoops and groans rippled through the bus, but no one objected. The mood was giddy, restless, as if everyone had been waiting for permission to move.
As the McDonald’s sign grew larger, the bus slowed and coasted up the exit ramp. In the rearview mirror, Colin saw Nate clutch his notebook and practically vibrate with excitement. Up front, Alex was already shifting toward the aisle, ready to sprint for the door the instant the bus stopped.
Even Trent looked, for a split second, like he was looking forward to the break.
The bus glided into the lot, and as soon as Trent killed the engine, the doors hissed open, and the team poured out—loud, lively, briefly unburdened by anything except the need for caffeine and a place to pee.
Colin hung back, letting everyone else go first. For a minute, he just sat in the empty cab, staring out at the sunlit parking lot, at the fields and sky beyond. He drew in a deep lungful of the country-fresh air and grinned. Then he stood, grabbed his coffee, and trailed after the others.
At 9:55 a.m., the bus was back on the road, and the mood inside was sugar-rushed and rowdy.
McDonald’s wrappers littered the front seats; the smell of fries mingled with the faint scent of gasoline.
Colin had scored an extra-large coffee and was nursing it like a lifeline.
The sun, now a full orb in the sky, slanted soft and glistening through the windshield and highlighted every speck of dust on the dashboard.
Trent drove with hands at ten and two, his sunglasses fixed straight ahead.
He hadn’t said much since the rest stop, which Colin attributed to either caffeine withdrawal or the general discomfort of being the only person on the bus not fueled by artificial cheese and fry grease.
Still, the bus held its line true, never drifting or jerking, even as the roads grew more winding and less familiar.
The GPS rerouted twice, sending them down a winding county lane before finally finding its way back to Route 60.
Trent muttered something about technology being useless, but the detour cost them only ten minutes before the bus merged onto the right highway and the world outside snapped back into focus: the Appomattox River below, wild green treetops brushing the guardrails, then the long, slow climb of the bridge.
The GPS, defeated but smug, recalculated and found its path. The blue line ran straight and true.
Colin sat up a little straighter. “Well, that’s handled,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.