Chapter 5 - Getting Out

Margot's POV

The bus terminal was eerily quiet when we arrived...

For a place that served as a gateway between here and anywhere else, I expected more chaos — more noise, more movement. But instead, the waiting area was nearly deserted, the only sounds being the occasional shuffle of footsteps against the tiled floors and the low murmur of a crackling radio playing from the reception desk.

Large coach buses lined the bays outside, their doors shut, their windows tinted so dark it was impossible to tell if anyone was inside. Each one was a ticket out of here, but none of them were ours — not yet anyway...

I tugged my hoodie tighter around me as I followed Cara toward the reception desk, where a tired-looking older man sat behind a thick glass window. His uniform was slightly wrinkled, and his thinning hair was slicked back, giving the impression that he'd been working this job far longer than he ever wanted to.

Cara, as always, was quick to step forward, her entire demeanor shifting as she put on the sweetest, most innocent smile she could muster.

I knew this look from her too well.

It was the same one she used to get out of detentions, to charm free coffee from the barista at Joe's Diner, to convince the grocery clerk to give us discounts on snacks.

She leaned against the counter, eyes wide and pleading.

"Hi, sir," she started, her voice dripping with saccharine politeness. "We were really hoping you could help us."

The man barely looked up from his newspaper. "Schedule's on the wall."

Cara's smile didn't waver. "Oh, we're not looking for a schedule. We actually need to get to Meadowbank — like, really soon. I think the next bus is leaving in twenty minutes?"

At this, the man sighed heavily, setting down his paper with a lazy flick of his wrist. He gave us both a once-over, his gaze lingering a little too long on our worn-out clothes before he grunted.

"Bus 109. Departs at two. Thirty dollars per ticket."

Cara let out a breath, tilting her head in a way that made her look helpless. "See, that's the thing," she said, biting her lip. "We don't exactly have the money for tickets, but it's really, really important that we get on that bus."

The man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Important how?"

Cara hesitated for only a split second before launching into the performance of a lifetime.

"Our grandmother," she said, voice breaking in just the right way, "is dying. She's in Meadowbank, and we just got the call this morning. It's really bad. We don't know how much time she has left, and we just — well we need to get there before it's too late."

The guy blinked. Then, after a long beat, he let out a dry chuckle.

"A dying grandma? That's the best you've got?" He shook his head, reaching for his newspaper again. "Come on, kids, at least try to be original."

Cara's face fell, her lower lip trembling for added effect. "But it's true—"

"It ain't true," the man scoffed. "You're the third pair of kids this week to come in here with some sob story. Yesterday it was a 'house fire.' Last week, some guy told me his dog needed emergency surgery." He rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't make the rules. No ticket, no ride. That simple."

Cara's expression dropped, and I knew right then that she'd lost this one.

She sighed, backing away from the counter. "Fine," she muttered, turning toward me. "Come on, Margot."

I followed her wordlessly as we moved to a quieter corner of the terminal. The fluorescent lights above hummed softly, flickering every now and then as if the entire building was running on borrowed time.

Cara slumped against the wall, arms crossed. "Okay. That was a fucking bust."

I nodded, exhaling sharply. "I don't know why you thought that would even work."

She shot me a look. "It's worked before, that's why."

"Yeah, with free donuts. Not with a damn bus ride costing us sixty dollars." I repeat the ridiculous prices.

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Okay, well, what the hell do we do now? We have to get to Meadowbank by tomorrow, and that bus is literally our only shot to get there on time."

I swallowed, my mind racing for any possible solution. I considered sneaking into the driver's cabin, convincing someone else to buy our tickets, maybe even running a quick hustle outside for money. But each idea was just as hopeless as the last.

Then, as I looked up, I saw it.

Bus 109, pulling up into the terminal.

It was massive, its long silver body gleaming under the dull lighting as it came to a slow stop across the lot. The doors hissed open, and a small handful of travelers stepped off, stretching their legs and adjusting their bags.

Then, just beneath the bus, the undercarriage storage door lifted open, revealing a dark, cavernous space filled with suitcases and duffel bags.

My heart rate picked up, as a sudden light bulb moment sprung alive...

An idea sparked in my mind so reckless, so sudden, that it almost shocked me that I had even thought it up.

I turned to Cara, gripping her arm. "We're getting on that bus."

She frowned. "Did you not just hear what that guy said?"

"Sorry, we're not getting on it," I corrected, my heart hammering. "We're going under it."

Her brows knit together in confusion, but then she followed my gaze toward the open undercarriage. It took her all of two seconds to put the pieces together, and when she did, her lips parted slightly.

"Oh my God."

I nodded.

"No," she said immediately.

"Yes."

"Margot, that is insane."

"It's our only option right now!" I defend as she took a second to observe the scene for herself.

She ran a hand back through her tousled hair, looking from me to the bus and then to the storage compartment, her breath quickening. "That's, like, ridiculously dangerous. We could get caught. We could suffocate. We could—"

"—get to Meadowbank on time." I interjected, raising a brow.

She shut her mouth, humming a sound to suggest that she was thinking more...

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "Cara, we don't have time for another plan. That bus leaves in fifteen minutes. We can either hide in there, or we can stay here and miss our only chance at getting out of this crappy town."

Her jaw tensed, knowing I was right.

I could see the war raging inside her — the reckless, impulsive part of her wanting to agree, while the logical part screamed at her to run the other way.

Then, finally, she exhaled.

"Ok, let's go," she muttered. "But if we die, then I'm haunting your ass."

"I'll be dead too you idiot!" I snort, as a grin flickered on to my lips.

"Yeah, well, I'd still haunt you in the afterlife bitch!" She presses on, as I can't help but laugh.

"Deal." I nod back, taking her hand in mine.

With that, we moved.

Quick. Silent. Unnoticed.

And as we crept toward the bus, hearts pounding in our chests, one thing became undeniably clear.

We were going to make it to Meadowbank on time - no matter what it took!