Brynna's POV
Waking up at three in the morning was not how I envisioned spending the second day of winter break. My body felt like it was made of stone, weighed down by exhaustion and the vague ache that came from only getting a whisper of sleep. But today was the first day of the Senior Trip, so I didn't have much of a choice.
We were flying up to Seattle, then taking a bus across the border into Vancouver, Canada. A few days of freedom in a city we didn't know, with some of the people who knew me best—it was the kind of trip I'd daydreamed about for years. And this time, I wasn't on the outside looking in. I had close friends. People who actually wanted to spend the week with me. That alone felt surreal.
The school parking lot buzzed with muffled excitement and groggy conversation. Teens slouched against their suitcases or curled up on the curb like sleep-deprived zombies. Someone's playlist drifted faintly from a phone speaker—lo-fi beats and sleepy vocals, fitting the pre-dawn mood.
"Here, I'll take that for you," Luke said, suddenly beside me. He took my suitcase from my grip before I could protest. "Why don't you go get us a seat?"
His voice was quiet, but too awake for the hour. I gave him a grateful look that probably came out more like a bleary blink and let him navigate the swarm of students while I trudged up the bus steps. The warm air felt nice against my skin, but the soft overhead lights felt way too bright. I padded down the narrow aisle until I saw two familiar figures—Alex and Reggie—already sprawled out in the seats near the middle.
I dropped down behind them with a thud and immediately leaned my head against the cold window.
"Someone's a bit tired," Alex observed, twisting around in his seat with a smirk.
I let my eyes fall shut. "Did you even sleep last night?" he asked, genuine curiosity laced with amusement.
I groaned, not bothering to lift my head. "Luke called me at one with a full-blown case of plane anxiety. He wouldn't stop talking. I kept dozing off, and then he'd start another tangent about turbulence or lost luggage or... geese or something, I don't know. He didn't hang up until two fifteen. And I was up at three."
"Yikes," Alex muttered.
"I'm gonna sleep the entire plane ride," I mumbled, "and probably still be tired."
Just then, Luke flopped down into the seat next to me, backpack thudding onto the floor between us. I instinctively shifted my weight and leaned into him, my head finding its way to his shoulder like it belonged there. He was warm and familiar, and I was too tired to care about anything else.
"How dare you keep her from getting her beauty sleep, Luke," Reggie said from in front of us, his voice theatrical and scandalized. "You are truly evil."
"I didn't know who else to talk to!" Luke protested, though he didn't sound all that guilty. "I had a list, okay? She was the first one I called, and she answered. That's on her. She could've just... hung up!"
"Shut up," I mumbled, too tired to sound threatening as I swatted his chest with the back of my hand. He tensed under me for a second.
"Sorry, I'll shut up now," he said, voice suddenly gentler. He settled back, and I felt his arm curl loosely against the seat behind me as I started to drift.
The motion of the bus lulled me into that hazy half-sleep state, where I wasn't really conscious but still vaguely aware of Reggie humming something off-key and Alex muttering about whether he packed his charger. Luke didn't talk again. He just let me rest.
Getting through airport security was surprisingly smooth, probably because we were practically the only people there. Our group moved like molasses, a sluggish shuffle through the ropes and metal detectors, guided more by muscle memory than thought. I didn't even remember taking off my shoes.
We made it to the gate with a half hour to spare, and the glow of the fluorescent lights made everyone look vaguely ghostly. The terminal was eerily quiet, like the airport itself hadn't woken up yet.
Alex pointed down the concourse toward two dimly lit kiosks. "The only places open are McDonald's and Starbucks. Nothing else opens for, like, two more hours."
"I vote McDonald's!" Reggie perked up with way too much energy for someone who'd been drooling on his neck pillow an hour ago. "I love their shitty pancakes," he added with an almost embarrassed smile.
Alex nodded. "I'm good with that, too. Their breakfast sandwiches kind of hit."
I rubbed my eyes, trying to will them open. "I need coffee. Like, actual coffee. Not sad drive-thru coffee."
Luke was already nodding before I finished. "Yeah, no offense to McD's, but I'm not drinking whatever's in their pot at this hour."
He pointed us toward Starbucks like a weary general leading his troops.
As we shuffled off in the direction of caffeine, I felt the familiar buzz of anticipation stir somewhere beneath the sleep. The trip was just beginning—and despite the haze, the cold floor tiles, the sore feet—I had a good feeling about it.
Fifteen minutes later, the four of us trickled back to our gate, huddling into the last row of four open seats we could find side by side. The waiting area had filled with strangers now—families, bleary-eyed business travelers, and a few couples clutching steaming coffee cups. The quiet tension in their gazes made it clear: they had clocked the swarm of high schoolers boarding with them, and they weren't emotionally prepared for it. I didn't blame them. Even I wasn't fully prepared for it, and I was one of the teenagers.
The overhead announcements droned softly as we sat, our bags at our feet and heads leaning against seatbacks or shoulders. The sterile light from the terminal windows made everything feel more surreal, like we were moving through someone else's morning.
Eventually, boarding was called. It was chaotic, as expected—students dragging carry-ons, tripping over each other, arguing about who got the window seat. But somehow, we made it to our row, and I collapsed into my seat, grateful for the thin airplane cushion.
As soon as the engines powered up and the cabin filled with that unmistakable white noise hum, I felt Luke tense beside me. He hadn't said anything yet, but the way his knee bounced and his fingers picked at the hem of his hoodie said it all. When the plane started inching away from the gate, his hand found mine in an instant. A death grip.
"You'll be fine, Luke," I said softly, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Just think about it this way—if the plane does go down, you'll die surrounded by your best friends and a bunch of hormonal teenagers. And if you don't die, you'll have a dramatic story to tell your future kids."
He turned his head slowly, eyes wide with horror, teeth clacking together from nerves. "You're not making things easier, Bryn," he said, breathless and somewhere between amused and panicked.
"Okay, okay, you're right," I said, squeezing his hand again. "New strategy. I stole my brother's AirPods so we could listen to music together. And I downloaded more episodes of Miraculous Ladybug. We can just watch and pretend the ground isn't thousands of feet away."
He blinked, startled by my preparedness, and watched me dig through my backpack. I pulled out the AirPods and passed him the case, watching the hesitation flicker in his eyes. For a second, he looked like he was about to decline—like the anxiety had him in too tight a grip to even listen to music—but then something softened in him. He took the case from my palm with slightly trembling fingers and popped the earbuds in.
