There were so many things that set your school apart from every other school.

The Sondheim Conservatory, as it had been deemed, was founded for fifth-through-twelfth graders interested in the performing arts. Technically it was a private school, but it was much more relaxed than the typical American private school. All but one of your classes were focused entirely on some facet of performing arts. But another big draw was that they provided Study Abroad opportunities for the high schoolers.

This was your lucky year. You were finally able to attend the study abroad trip, on which Christian was one of the chaperones, and you were also assigned to his group. It delighted you, and excited you, and this was going to be the best two weeks of your life. I mean, you were going to [country] for God’s sake!

But then you had to get up at four o’clock in the morning to load the bus which would take your group to the airport. Then you had to wait at the airport, then take your ridiculously long flight, then load onto another bus, then settle yourselves into houses you would be staying at. It was a lot of work for one day, and there was no doubt that you would all be exhausted by the end of it. And then the next day would be nothing but tourism… and so would the next 12 days.

You were still in your pajamas when you left the residence hall and groggily carried your luggage to the bus. Everybody seemed to be tired, anxious, angry, or a scary mix of the three, like you were. It took almost an hour before the bus was ready to leave. You were lucky enough to have scored both a bus seat and a plane seat right next to Christian. But at least for the bus trip you wouldn’t get any conversation in — you were nearly asleep after only the first few minutes.

Christian smiles softly to himself as he shrugs off his hoodie and balls it up. “Here,” he says. “I don’t want you to hurt your neck.”