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The chartered bus hums to a halt, its brakes squealing against the damp asphalt outside the Sleep Well Motel. Positioned along a dreary stretch of highway on the way to Jervis Bay Marine Park, the establishment consists of twelve identical, low-slung units painted a fading pastel blue. A flickering neon sign prominently advertises WI-FI AVAILABLE and KIDS STAY FREE in jagged red lettering. Inside the cramped front office, Ronald "Ron" Tompkins wrings his hands together behind the laminate counter. His nervous chuckle echoes before anyone speaks, a sharp, staccato sound that rattles through the tiny lobby. Ron’s collar is worn, his eyes darting between the cluster of energetic teenagers spilling into his reception area.
"Alright, buds, keys are lined up, pair by pair," Ron stammers, wiping sweat from his palms. "Just, uh, don't break anything. Please."
Hovering near the corner of the front desk sits a large glass terrarium housing a sluggish green reptile. Ron’s posture immediately softens as he taps the glass. "That's Mr. Jones. Named him myself. Big hit on eBid, you know—`iguanaluvr75` is my handle, if you ever want to swap care tips."
While most of the teenagers ignore him, Mary "Boo" Gibbs steps forward, her dark eyes lighting up. She tilts her head, her twin pigtails swaying as she leans close to the enclosure. Ron hands her a stray piece of dandelion leaf, and Boo carefully feeds the lizard, smiling bright as the creature takes a slow, deliberate bite. Stand-offish and leaning against the doorframe, Darla Sherman folds her arms in a purple sweater, her iconic pigtails framing a sharp smirk. She couldn't care less about an overfed iguana, but watching Boo’s genuine delight brings a warm, steady affection to her chest.
Once they secure the key to Room 4, the girls head inside, the heavy wooden door closing behind them. The room smells of old carpet and citrus disinfectant. Boo dumps her duffel on the floral bedspread and immediately pulls out a plush teal cat, placing it gently against the pillows. She glances over at Darla, who is already unzipping her sports bag.
"You think Riley’s team is ready for Seattle?" Boo asks, tossing a handful of folded shirts into the top drawer. "December isn't that far off. You guys are gonna crush it on the ice."
Darla chuckles, her brace-covered teeth flashing in the dim light. "Riley’s got a mean wrist shot, but our defense line is solid. With you in the stands shouting loud enough to wake the dead, we're not losing."
Before Boo can reply, her phone buzzes with a ringtone, displaying Bonnie’s name on the screen. Boo’s face instantly brightens; she answers, switching the phone to speakerphone as she wanders toward the closet to hang up their jackets. Bonnie’s family moved from Australia six years ago when her father landed a job at a botanical garden in California, but the distance hasn't dimmed their friendship.
"Hey, Bon! Yeah, we just got into the motel..." Boo’s voice drifts as she stepped into the closet alcove.
Darla smiles faintly, giving Boo her space before retreating into the cramped bathroom. She turns on the harsh fluorescent light, wincing slightly. It’s time for her night routine—an agonizingly thorough dental process she’s endured daily since she was seven years old. She grabs her specialized interdental pick, wax thread, and orthodontic brush. She sets to work, meticulously picking around her metal brackets, her mouth quickly filling with white toothpaste foam.
Out in the bedroom, the room's main door clicks quietly. Ron sneaks into Room 4 using his master key, his boots making almost no sound on the worn carpet. He glances around slyly, his eyes landing on the plush teal cat sitting unattended on the bed. A smarmy, greedy look washes across his face. A vintage plush like that could easily net fifty bucks on an auction site. He creeps forward, reaching out an eager hand toward the bed.
At that exact moment, Boo steps out of the closet alcove, still holding her phone to her ear. She stops dead in her tracks, catching the backside of the strange motel manager leaning over her bed. The moment his fingers brush against the fabric of her beloved Kitty, an instinctual surge of fury overrides her shock.
Boo lets out an ungodly, piercing screech that echoes off the papered walls.
In the bathroom, Darla snaps into motion instantly. With foam lathered around her mouth and the thin metal orthodontic pick still wedged firmly between her front teeth, she bursts through the door. Seeing a tall stranger looming over the bed and reaching for Kitty, Darla doesn't pause to process or ask questions. She launches herself across the room like a winger breaking through an opponent's defense line. Darla tackles Ron mid-stride. The impact sends both of them crashing hard onto the carpeted floor. Ron hits the ground with a heavy groan, the air knocked completely out of his lungs as Darla pins his shoulders down with ruthless efficiency.
Within seconds, loud footsteps thunder down the hallway. The room door bursts wide open as their teacher and several alarmed classmates rush in, shouting in confusion at the sight of the motel manager flattened on the floor.
Breathing heavily, Darla carefully climbs off Ron. She reaches up, wincing as she grips the metal pick sticking out of her braces and extracts it before her gums can start tearing further. She snatches Kitty off the bed, steps past the stunned crowd, and walks directly over to Boo, holding the plush out like a shield.
"You okay?" Darla mutters through a tight jaw.
"Darla, your mouth!" Boo gasped, her eyes widening in worry.
Blood is beginning to trickle past Darla's lower lip, mixing with the residual foam. Boo completely forgets about the intruder, stepping closer and cupping Darla’s chin gently.
"Relax," Darla grunts, trying to brush it off despite the sharp, throbbing pain radiating up into her cheekbone. "It's just a toothache."
"And Kitty is safe," Boo says softly, taking the plush with one hand while using the other to lead Darla by the wrist. "So let's go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up."
Darla tries to half-scoff to maintain her tough exterior, but a sudden sharp jolt makes her wince fiercely. Yep—definitely a bad toothache. She must have pulled a nerve right out of place when she drove her shoulder into Ron. But as Boo gently turns on the tap to wet a paper towel, Darla leans into her touch, deciding the aching jaw was well worth it.