“Yes. Our pleasure,” Thomas said.
Now it was Kyla and Fernanda’s turn to trade concerned frowns. The green backpack—the biggest reason the girls had gotten into this mess in the first place—was in their room. It was hidden under a mattress, sure, but that didn’t mean much.
“That’s all right,” Kyla said. “Just bring them here. We’ll wait.”
Even if that means sharing an office with two boys who have every right to hate us, Kyla thought. It was safer than letting anyone anywhere near room 5.
“Of course,” Thomas said.
“One moment,” Tabitha said.
The twins came around the desk in unison, making for the door, filing between Kyla and Fernanda and leaving a smell of fusty soap in their wake. Frosted glass stood on either side of the office’s door. The pair’s blurry silhouettes hurried past the glass, moving with a purpose, their heads bowed together like they were locked in some furtive conversation.
Kyla raised an eyebrow at Fernanda. Fernanda nodded, clearly just as confused by the twins’ gravitas. “They are only towels.”
The white boys from the side of the road didn’t seem to care about any of this. The shorter one leaned his weight against the desk, toed the duffel bag at his feet. “Thanks for the ride.”
There was a hard flatness in his voice. A dangerous edge.
Kyla said nothing. What was there to say?
The shorter boy went on. “I’m surprised to still see y’all here. You were in an awful fucking hurry.”
Kyla bristled. Fernanda was more contrite. “I apologize. We weredangerously low on fuel. We were afraid the car might not even make it this far.”
“And look at all the goodthatdid you.”
The shorter boy looked ready to say more, but the taller one turned from where he stood by the fire. He looked at Kyla. He studied her the same way he had by the side of the road. Kyla saw, again, that flicker of fear in him.
She was probably imagining things, but she thought he saw the same thing in her.
“I get it,” the taller boy said. “It’s dangerous out here. There’s no telling what kind of people could be looking for a ride.”
When Kyla heard the boy speak, she realized what was going on between the pair. The taller boy’s voice was high and soft. Obvious. The shorter one was watching him with an intensity no one would give a mere friend. Something protective about him. Something adoring.
The boys were an item. Way out here. Maybe the new millenniumwasbringing progress. Imagine.
Kyla said, “For what it’s worth, I felt bad about it. I’m sorry.”
The taller boy gave her a smile, just a little twitch of the mouth, before his face darkened again with whatever had him so scared. Kyla went to warm herself with him near the fire. Her eye glanced over the bric-a-brac arranged on the mantelpiece: a deer’s antler, a framed photograph of the mountain out back, a pair of grooved white rocks the size and shape of chicken eggs.
The shorter boy spoke. “Are they telling the truth? Is the motel really out of gas?”
“Yes,” Kyla said. “I checked it myself. That pump is bone-dry.”
The shorter man had turned to fix Kyla with a curious stare. “Why didn’t you believe them?”
“I…” Kyla hesitated. “I’m not sure. I guess I didn’twantto believe them.”
“You didn’t want to be stuck here either. Just like us.” The taller boy studied her, and Kyla had the uncanny feeling he understood something about her—saw something decent in her—that she’d never seen within herself.
She wondered if she’d ever find it.
The taller boy said, “So y’all paid for a room?”
“The twins gave us one,” Kyla said. “Free of charge. They were upset we were stranded here. They’ll probably do the same thing for y’all.”
The shorter boy said, “Does that strike anyone else as strange?”
