Carly walked off in the opposite direction from where she had first gone in. On the far side of the alley, Jake, Jane, and Carl stumbled out from a different dumpster—one that looked surprisingly clean compared to the one Carly had just escaped from.
"Remind me to take a four-hour-long shower when we get home," Carly grumbled, her face painted in disgust.
"There was trash in that one?" Carl asked, genuinely curious.
She looked him up and down, slowly, then glanced at her clothes, now stained with sludge and something unidentifiable. She plucked a banana peel from her shoulder and flung it aside. Then she looked back at Carl again. "No. No, there wasn't. It was totally clean."
Jane tried to stifle a laugh. "Sorry there wasn't enough room in this one," she said, patting the side of their dumpster with a smirk.
"Can we just plan when we're going home? Please!" Carly said, voice rising. She looked like she was about to explode. Her eyes watery from the sheer disgust.
"Yeah, about that…" Jake scratched the back of his head, his tone serious now. "I don't think we can go back to that house."
"You have a point," Jane said, frowning slightly. "But where do we go then?"
"I don't know. A hotel, maybe?" Jake replied, checking his watch. [11:42 PM]. "It's almost midnight. Let's go."
Carly had already stormed a few feet ahead but stopped suddenly and came back. "Wait, where's the way to the hotel?"
Jake just shook his head. Everyone held back laughter, barely keeping it together. "That way." He pointed dramatically in the opposite direction.
Several blocks away, the four of them finally stood in front of StarLife—a five-star hotel glowing in the night city. Giant glass doors. Polished marble floors. Security cameras at every corner. The kind of place you needed both credit and credibility to walk into. It was the only one close by.
They made it to the front desk, where a receptionist with glossy lips, perfectly straight bangs, and an expression like she'd rather be dead than working night shift eyed them while slowly filing her nails. She chewed her gum slowly.
"So," she said, lazily popping the gum. "Which of you is eighteen?"
None of them answered at first. Just awkward silence. Then Jane sighed, pressing a palm to her forehead. "Would you just give us the rooms already?"
"I'm not eighteen," Jake said evenly. "But I also can't exactly be considered seventeen. Ten days left. Nothing serious."
"Wow. Big deal," the receptionist said without even glancing up.
"You giving us an entry or not?" Jane said, the irritation in her tone too clear.
The receptionist finally looked up, slowly. "No."
Jane clenched her fists and turned toward Jake, pulling him a step away from the desk, to discuss their next move.
"Do you happen to have a vending machine over here or something?" Carl asked, giving a casual smile as he leaned his elbow on the desk.
The receptionist gave his hand an irritated look. She used her pen to slowly shove his arm off her desk. "Yes. Yes, we do," she said with forced politeness. "But that'll be after you get inside."
Then her eyes shifted toward Carly, who had been staring at her with silent rage the entire time.
The receptionist narrowed her eyes, leaned toward Carl, and whispered: "Why'd she look like she crawled out of a dumpster?"
Carl almost lost it. A laugh almost escaped, but he covered his mouth and swallowed it down hard. His eyes flicked to Carly, then back to the receptionist.
The look said everything.
"Oh. Oh. Oooooohhhhhhh," the receptionist said dramatically, mouth forming a perfect O. She tapped her lips with a finger, as if trying to physically keep the giggle in. "So what's with the death glare, then?" she asked Carly, amused.
Carly said nothing. Didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just continued with the angry stare, like she would be attacking any moment soon.
Suddenly, high heels clacked in from the hallway.
"Hey, kids! I thought I told you to wait for me outside," came a familiar voice.
All four of them turned their heads in sync. Ms. Michelle walked in, a long leather coat draped over her shoulders, and one hand rummaging through her handbag for something.
She stepped up to the desk, pulling out a sleek black verification card and handing it to the receptionist.
"They're my nieces and nephews," she said with a saccharine smile. "They just couldn't wait for me to take the car to the parking lot and come back."
Carl immediately caught on. "We're sorry, Aunt Michelle," he said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.
"Yeah. We're sorry… Aunt Michelle," Jane echoed,
She elbowed Jake, giving him a not-so-subtle nudge so he'd play along.
Jake blinked. "What?"
Jane sighed.
The receptionist squinted, mildly confused, but tapped away at her computer. "Okay… Ms. Michelle Lawrence… Room 29-B?" she said, confirming from the card details displayed on the screen, before sliding it back across the desk.
"That's me," Michelle said sweetly, taking it back. "And I'd also like to book one more room for the—"
"Two," Jane cut in with an exaggerated yawn.
The receptionist paused. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I said I'd like to book two more rooms for them," Ms. Michelle repeated, giving Jane a glare behind her smile.
"Alright then," the receptionist replied, clearly over the whole situation.
The process didn't take long. Soon enough, they were handed small silver keycards.
But just as they turned to leave,
"Uh… I think you forgot this one," the receptionist said, raising a thumb in Carly's direction. Carly, who was still just standing there, face locked in.
Jane palmed her face and walked over, grabbing Carly by the shoulders and giving the receptionist a quick, apologetic smile. "Thanks," she muttered, pushing Carly away gently.
Carly didn't resist. But she didn't stop glaring either. Even as the elevator door closed, her head stayed turned—eyes locked on the receptionist until the very last of her view disappeared.
Ding.
The elevator began its quiet journey up. Silence settled in.
Awkward, heavy silence.
Until Ms. Michelle broke it, "They're after you, aren't they?"
All heads turned at once. Jane squinted. Carl tilted his head. Carly finally snapped out of murder-mode. Jake remained unfazed but raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Michelle said with a shrug, hands in the pockets of her coat.