Translucence

30

The bus stopped near a motel. Kya studied the building with a frown.

"It'll be okay," Stiles said, noticing her expression.

"No, I don't think it will."

Coach's booming voice caught their attention. "Listen up. The meet's been pushed till tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. You'll be pairing up. Choose wisely. And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!"

Lydia stared at the hotel with a blank expression. "Lydia?" Allison questioned.

She shook her head. "I don't like this place."

Kya glanced at her. "I'm guessing the people who own this place don't like it either."

Allison shrugged. "It's only for a night."

Lydia met her eyes. "A lot can happen in one night."

Stiles and Scott headed to their room while Lydia and Allison, followed by Kya, headed to theirs.

They walked into their room and Lydia recoiled at the smell. "I'm gonna get some new towels."

Lydia and Kya headed to the front office while Allison took a shower. They walked up to the front desk and Lydia said, "Excuse me? The card on the dresser in our room says it's a non-smoking room, but all of our towels reek of nicotine."

The receptionist turned to face them. It was a gray-haired woman in a floral dress and red cardigan. The voice box on her neck caught Kya's attention.

She gave Lydia a smile. "Sorry about that, sweetheart."

Lydia pointed to a set of numbers on the wall. "What's that? That number?"

The receptionist followed Lydia's hand. "It's a kind of inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up."

"What do they mean?"

She chuckled softly. "It's a little morbid, to be honest. You sure you want to know?"

Lydia nodded. "Tell me."

The receptionist met her eyes. "We're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."

"Obviously."

"But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California, we have the most guest suicides."

"198?" Lydia and Kya inquired.

The receptionist nodded. "And counting."

They made their way back to their room and since Allison was out of the shower, Lydia said, "According to the receptionist, there have been 198 suicides here."

"198?" Allison repeated.

Lydia nodded. "Yes, and we're talking 40 years. On average that's... 4.95 a year, which is... actually expected. But who commemorates that with a framed number? Who does that? Who?"

"All suicides?"

Lydia nodded a second time. "Yes. Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides. I don't know about you, but me, I..."

Lydia's voice stopped and she turned to them moments later. "Did you hear that?"

"Lydia?" Allison and Kya called.

Lydia turned to face them. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The two people in the other room... they shot each other."