Drew awoke late that morning, brushing crust from his eyes as they blinked open. He yawned, sitting up. Looking over at the others, people he's come to love in the past two weeks. He had converted the back seats of his van to a sort of bedroom, though everyone sort of cuddled together most of the time. Unzipping his backpack--which had been used as his pillow--he took out a t-shirt and pulled it on before saying "Wake up, guys. I think if we drive all day, we can make it to Vegas by five-ish." He reached into the front seats, trying to find his phone, which had been charging. Checking for messages from his parents, he opened his GPS app, finding out how far they were from Las Vegas. Not as far as he'd originally thought, but still far. "But first," Drew said, "let's get breakfast." He retrieved a box of poptarts and several cans of Coke from beneath the front seat. "Here, guys," he said, passing out food. "It's my turn to drive, so if you want, grab some more sleep, but I'll need someone awake to talk to." He stepped precariously over everyone else's bodies, opening the back doors and letting more light flood in. Hopping out, he shut the doors behind him and got in front, turning the keys in the ignition. Biting into a poptart, he pulled out of the empty parking lot, stretching his shoulders as he did so. This'll be the perfect night, he thought. How wrong he was.