39

                                    

                                          
Mia's POV
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Knox and I ride the bus for another hour and a half, until we're about half an hour away from my town, then we get off and buy some necessities at a few stores and head off to get a hotel room.
 It's a two floor hotel, small but clean looking. The building itself has bland, beige vinyl wood siding with big front windows and well maintained bushes planted around the perimeter. It's cute, and from what I read on my phone, cheap enough that we can spend the night and still have about 100 dollars to spare. Not a lot in this day and age, but it'll do.
The early March sun lowers in the foggy, pre-rain horizon, the cloud-filled sky giving the whole word a grey- blue tinge.
A cool breeze rushes up and blows my hair in all directions as I reach for the handle of the door to the lobby. Knox is lucky he has a hat on, I think as I annoyedly brush my hair out of my face. A siren wails past on some road, the ever present buzz of cars and other commotion a dull, relentless drone in the background. 
A gust of stale hotel air hits me in the face as I enter, along with that smell you get at all hotels; like cleaning supplies, heaters, and the cheap leather chairs with ridiculous patterns that are standing on an even odder patterned rug beneath my feet. There is a faux fireplace and sitting area to our left, a breakfast bar and seating straight ahead, with a little alcove full of breakfast food items, and to my right is the marble desk where we will be checking in. 
My heart thunders as I approach the man behind the desk. It's funny how this makes me more nervous than training did. Sure, I probably got more scared than this when I was fighting for my life, but the adrenaline numbed the fear at least a little. I hate ordering food and talking to strangers like this. Especially when it's two teenagers checking into a random hotel. I'm just praying he lets us go and doesn't ask where our parents are. I mean, I'm pretty much an adult. Almost.
"Hello, welcome." The middle aged man greets us with a smile of coffee stained teeth. Knox stays behind me as I step up to the desk and give my best 'I do this all the time' smile.
"Hi, could I just get one room for the night?" 
Is that the right thing to say? Do I need a credit card? Can I rent a room when I'm this young? I'm overthinking this, of course, but I don't know how this works. I didn't have a job before all this craziness started, so it's not like I know how money in this sense works. I don't even know what a credit score is, and I took a finance class last year.
The man looks at me, then Knox, with an arch of his greying brow, then looks outside.
"Just you two?" He asks. He then looks less suspicious and more curious, or concerned. I can't tell which. "Are your parents aware that you're here?"
Shit. I stare at him for a second, racking my brain for an excuse and trying not to stutter, as that would be a sure sign that I'm lying. It is very, very difficult to come up with a lie on the spot, under pressure and nervous. Very hard.
"I- yes, they do. They both work, they travel a lot, together, and they're meeting us here tomorrow. It's a long story, but they know we're here. They gave us money, so..." UGH. I sound like such a child when I talk to adults. It's infuriating. The man studies me for a second before nodding. He must've just decided it's not worth his time.
"One bed or two?" He asks in a neutral tone, looking from me to Knox.
"Two," I reply right away, smiling tightly. The guy's eyes twinkle as he nods. Did he think that was funny? Not funny, not funny.
"That'll be one-hundred and fifty dollars. Cash or credit?"
"Cash," I reply, pulling out the cash and counting up 150. I hope it isn't too suspicious that I have that much on hand.