Dark Turns (6 page)

N
ia sat alone at the end of a long table in the students’ dining hall, a sleepy sentry waiting for her shift to end. Dawn bathed the near-empty room in white light. She sipped a tepid black coffee and watched the molasses movements of the minute hand on the cafeteria clock. Another RA would relieve her at five minutes to seven.

Her head ached like a cheap vodka hangover. A steady alarm pulsed from her heel. Marta hadn’t left her apartment until nearly two o’clock in the morning. Nia would try to sneak a nap sometime between dance class and her evening meeting.

A hefty black man in a white apron emerged from the staff-only kitchen, pushing a cart topped with pans and portable gas burners. He brought the cart to a tablecloth-covered counter at the far end of the room and then hoisted
two baking trays atop a ministove. He peeled back the foil tops. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the room.

A group of boys at the other end of Nia’s table rose to get their trays. Hot breakfast would start the morning rush. Though some kids with morning electives like crew or dance had already popped in for bagels and pastries, the early risers were in the minority. Most school activities took place after the end of the academic day. As a result, most kids ate between eight o’clock and the start of first period.

Long blond hair swished into the room. Nia recognized Aubrey from her straight, dancer’s posture and the navy leotard stretching above her sweatpants. She’d probably thrown the bottoms on over her tights. Nia would have done the same if she hadn’t been instructed to wear yoga pants and a top.

The group of boys snickered as Aubrey entered. One boy licked his lips like a dog salivating before a steak. “Bow chicka wow wow,” he said, mimicking the soundtrack to seventies skin flicks. “I love the Internet.”

His friend laughed and slapped him five.

Aubrey ignored them. She took a brown dining tray from a stack beside the hot breakfast counter and brought it away from the guys to the cold buffet. If she’d wanted eggs, she wasn’t willing to stomach standing next to those boys in line to get them.

Aubrey poured herself a bowl of bran cereal and milk. She added a banana from one of several bowls of fruit before carrying her tray to an empty table.

Nia considered joining her. Perhaps her presence would keep the guys from talking about the tape.

Nia started to rise from her table. As she did, she saw Joseph enter the room. He grabbed a tray from the cold buffet and slid it in front of Aubrey, claiming his seat. The
appearance of Aubrey’s boyfriend made Nia return to her chair. Joseph would keep the chatter from becoming too loud.

Joseph squeezed Aubrey’s shoulder and then headed to the hot breakfast line. The boys stopped laughing as he approached. He wasn’t a broad guy, but he was tall and muscled. Moreover, he had a confident air that probably kept people from messing with him.

More kids filed into the dining hall. Nia recognized ballet students in the crowd: the T twins. Alexei. None acknowledged her. The room grew louder. Plates clattered on trays. Conversations tangled together, creating a web of human sound. Nia glanced at the clock again. Twenty to seven.

“Is this seat taken?”

For a moment, she mistook Peter for a student. He was dressed in khakis, a white button-down, and a blue blazer, akin to the school uniform. He held a tray topped with a whole-grain bagel and a mug of something steamy.

“Good morning.” Nia gestured with an open hand to the chair across from her. “Are you here to take over for me again?”

“Sorry. No.” He lowered his tray onto the table and took the seat. “I teach a poetry elective on Wednesdays. I’ll keep you company for twenty minutes, though.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.” Nia yawned. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me.”

“Not an early riser?”

“Usually I am. A student wanted some counseling last night.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised. “You actually got a taker?”

“Not really.” She swished the cold, muddy water inside her coffee cup. “She wanted to discuss something else.”

Peter put a tea bag into his mug. He moved it up and down in the hot water, a fisherman with a lure on the line.

Nia propped her elbow on the table. She let her head fall onto her half-closed hand. “So what do you teach in your poetry elective?”

“Emerson. Eliot. Some Eminem.”

“The rapper?”

Peter chuckled. “I try to keep my quatrain analysis interesting.”

A genuine smile stifled Nia’s coming yawn. “Which songs do you use?”

“Just ‘Stimulate.’” He grinned.

“They’re arresting Theo!”

A boy shouted the news from the lunchroom doorway. Students fell out of their seats in an effort to be first out the door. Their rubber soles squeaked on the wooden floor like scurrying rats. Peter jumped up and ran to the exit, trying to beat the swarm of students.

Nia followed him, but too slowly to catch up. Boys’ voices bounced off the walls. She hurried in the direction of the commotion.

A crowd clogged the vestibule outside the dining hall. Nia watched Peter push through it. She trailed after him, slipping through the clearing he’d created.

“What’s going on?”

“Peter. Good that you’re here.”

Dean Stirk stood between Detective Frank and a campus cop. Theo stood behind her, flanked by Detective Kelly and another uniformed policeman.

“These officers are taking Theo in,” Stirk said.

“And you’re just going to let them?”

“A student is dead, Mr. Andersen.” She raised her voice, ensuring that all the whispering kids could hear the
exchange. “We here at Wallace must make every effort to help authorities learn what happened and to ensure our students’ continued safety.”

“But like this, Martha?” Peter lowered his voice. “Couldn’t his parents have brought him in discretely?”

Detective Frank cleared his throat. “Both of Mr. Spanos’s parents were notified. The boy’s father has been less than helpful.”

“Well, you can’t question him without them.”

Frank waved a piece of paper. “As this arrest warrant makes clear, we have every right. Theo is no longer a juvenile. He’s eighteen as of August third.”

Peter ran a hand over his hair. “You don’t know that he’s done anything wrong. Doing it this way—”

“He texted the victim right before her time of death, begging to meet at the boathouse.”

The officers steered Theo toward the double doors leading outside. Theo wore the school’s full uniform. He stared at his black leather shoes. Stirk followed behind the arresting officers, head held high, a fellow jailer.

Peter whirled to face the hovering students. “Everyone go to your rooms or return to the cafeteria. If you don’t leave, I’m citing you for unbecoming conduct. Your parents will be notified.”

The kids shuffled down the hall, looking over their shoulders at their classmate, sandwiched between two officers. Theo held his head down as though locked in stocks. Nia saw snickers among the shocked faces in the crowd. She could imagine the Facebook posts. The students would convict by morning.

A
platinum sky shone outside the dance studio windows. Raindrops streaked the glass. Nia debated whether she could make it home before the sky really opened up. She’d forgotten to check the weather that morning and didn’t have an umbrella.

She covered a yawn before returning her attention to the students, now stretching their backs over the barre following an hour of Ms. V’s instruction. Their bodies formed a bridge of stomachs, flat enough to roll a quarter down.

She walked beside the line of upside-down faces. “Good job. Really reach for your calves.”

Marta avoided eye contact as she passed. Nia didn’t blame her. Confessing to a stranger was embarrassing enough without
having to see said stranger the following morning. Nia tried not to let her eyes rest on Marta’s stomach, which already looked less bloated than yesterday. Water weight drained fast.

She clapped her hands. “All right, let’s loosen our hamstrings with some grand battements.”

The students pulled up from the barre, a wave of rising bellies. They stood beside the beam and placed their right hands on the wood. Nia admired the collective precision.

“Brush your foot on the floor before you kick,” she ordered. “Really massage your toes against the ground.”

Legs lifted into the air at ninety-degree angles or more. Aubrey and Lydia’s working legs shot up toward their ears. Tati rolled her eyes at the pair. What the T twin didn’t realize was that Aubrey and Lydia weren’t showing off so much as competing with one another. The rest of the class didn’t matter. The girls watched their reflections in the mirror, each noting the angles of her rival.

A competitive germ itched Nia’s insides. She could easily extend into 180 degrees en pointe. More if she wanted. She looked away from the class stars, suppressing the desire to show off.

“Okay. Let’s try some arabesque penchées,” Nia said. “Use the barre for support.”

Kim’s athletic thigh stuck out at a right angle behind her. The girl had muscle, but the flexibility wasn’t there. Marta had it. Her leg lifted to an oblique angle. Unfortunately, her balance was still off. Her standing leg wobbled, begging to bend. With luck, she would regain her center of gravity once she lost the weight.

June was also considerably flexible, though she lacked technique. Nia cupped the girl’s heel in her palm and pushed her spindle leg a few inches higher, nearing a standing split.

“You can do it,” Nia said. “Really feel the length in your legs. Stretch as high as you can go.”

June’s jaw clenched. Her pale face reddened as she brought her tiny foot higher. She reminded Nia of a child’s drawing of a person, all lines with a circle head. No shape.

“Hey, Lydia.”

Nia turned to see Aubrey sashay over to her only competition. The girl smiled as though she’d just had a fantastic idea.

“Let’s get a pic of us in penchée position. It will make a cool shot for the yearbook.”

Lydia’s face lit up. Nia understood her excitement. An older, relatively popular kid was taking an interest. It couldn’t be easy to break in at a boarding school where most kids had lived together for a year or more. Dance class was particularly cliquey.

Aubrey grasped Lydia’s hand and led her into the center of the room. She dipped forward until her working leg made a straight line in the air. Lydia faced Aubrey and copied the motion, letting her torso drop parallel to the ground. Her raised limb, however, didn’t form a vertical line like Aubrey’s own. Lydia was several degrees shy of a full split.

“Ms. Washington,” Aubrey shouted, “will you take a picture?”

“Okay. Hold it.” Nia pulled her phone from her sweater pocket and hit the camera application. She centered the frame on the two girls and clicked.

“You got it?” Aubrey asked.

“Yes.”

Aubrey’s leg whirled down like a propeller. She ran over to Nia, hand outstretched. “Let me send it to myself.”

Nia handed over the device. Aubrey typed in a number and hit the send key. A muffled beep sounded from a bag in one of the cubbies.

“I got it.” Aubrey turned the phone to Lydia. “Look at our lines. We’re almost mirror images.”

Nia detected a slight dig in Aubrey’s statement. The girls were “almost” mirror images because Lydia couldn’t match Aubrey’s flexibility. Judging from the photo alone, anyone would believe Aubrey to be the superior dancer.

Lydia continued to smile as though her fellow ballerina was being friendly.

Nia clapped, breaking the class’ attention away from the primas-in-training. “Okay. Let’s free stretch. Work out whatever feels tight. Pay special attention to your feet.”

Marta sat on the ground and reached toward her toes, lengthening her back muscles. Lydia dropped into a deep lunge and then twisted to grab her back leg, stretching her inner thigh. The T twins joined Kim and Suzanne at the barre. They took turns pushing each other’s legs toward a standing split, apparently determined that the starlets would not be unchallenged when it came time to audition for the fall performance.

Alexei approached June at the far side of the room. He rotated his ankle as he whispered. The girl rubbed the back of her shoulder. Her expression tightened.

It was okay to socialize on Nia’s watch, but they still had to stretch. She walked toward them. “Alexei, if your ankle feels tight, you have to do more than just rotate it or the ligaments could get damaged. Resistance bands really help.” Nia pointed to one of the cubbies by Ms. V’s office. “I can grab you one and show you some strengthening exercises.”

Alexei dropped his foot on the floor. His mischievous smile turned embarrassed. “My ankle is fine. I was just telling June what she missed in the dining hall this morning.”

June looked up at Nia. Her pained expression wasn’t from any physical ailment. “You saw Lauren’s body. You
don’t think Theo really killed her, do you? It could have been an accident, or maybe she was upset . . .”

Stirk’s warning bellowed in Nia’s head. “I don’t know.”

Disappointment drew down June’s face. She looked near tears.

Nia thought of the grief-counseling book on her kitchen counter. “If you feel upset by Theo’s arrest, you know I’m an RA and I’m always available to talk.”

June nodded vacantly, and Alexei stepped between her and Nia, ending their conversation. Nia scanned the room for other students that needed help or reminders to stretch during warm-downs.

Aubrey stood at the wall of windows. She stared outside, her face blank, eyes unfocused, as if lost in her own head. Joseph came up behind her. He grasped her waist. She pivoted to face him and then bent backward, using his grip like a support beam.

Joseph’s hands inched down to just below Aubrey’s hipbone. The moves fit a modern dance class, not high school ballet practice.

Nia approached the pair. “You guys look ready to practice lifts.”

Joseph’s hands retreated back above the belt. As Aubrey rose, his gaze zeroed in on the girl’s small bust.

“We’ll work on partner combinations soon. You can prepare for lifts by strengthening your wrists.” Nia blathered to dissipate the tension. “I find a nice stretch is rotating the wrists with weights. A ten-pound weight in each hand is a good start.”

The boy released Aubrey. Her cherry-painted lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. Joseph kept his eyes on Nia. “I’ll try that,” he said.

“Thanks, Nia.” A Mona Lisa smile curled the edge of Aubrey’s mouth. She batted her eyes at Joseph. “I have
some ideas for exercises, too. Things that can really open up the pelvis.”

The boy’s hand grazed Aubrey’s waist. “Really?”

Nia frowned. Making veiled sexual comments to your boyfriend in class was inappropriate, especially in front of a teacher.

“Aubrey, I’d appreciate—”

A bell rang. Ms. V stepped from her office. “Okay, class,” she said, drawing out the
s
as if employing the French word. “See you tomorrow.”

Aubrey’s doll eyes fluttered at Nia, waiting for her to finish her interrupted statement.

Nia reconsidered making a big deal of Aubrey’s innuendo. Ms. V would monitor their conversation. It would be difficult to explain what had happened to someone who hadn’t seen the body language.

“I’d appreciate it if you would call me Ms. Washington.”

Aubrey looked down her nose at her as if to ask,
Are you serious?

“Mr. Battle was pretty adamant that I shouldn’t let students use my first name.”

Aubrey smirked. “Oh. Okay. I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble.”

The kids put on street shoes. Aubrey walked toward the door first, Joseph following at her heels. Before she exited, Aubrey looked over her shoulder at Nia. She flashed a triumphant smile. “Thanks for the picture, Ms. Washington.”

Ms. V closed the door behind the last student. Her heels clacked against the floor like tap shoes as she returned to the center of the room. Taut cheeks wrinkled into a smile. “You are doing well with them. I believe yesterday’s fouettés even impressed Aubrey.”

“She’s a polished dancer.”

Pride lit Ms. V’s face. “She came to me with considerable training, but I think we really brought out the shine in her.”

Nia was tempted to say something about Aubrey’s borderline inappropriate behavior with Joseph. But Ms. V’s admiration for the girl made her rethink it.

“She’s not just a beautiful dancer. She’s brilliant.” Ms. V continued. “Top of the senior class and graduating a year early.” The instructor leaned in and lowered her voice. “Her accomplishments are all the more impressive given her history. Aubrey’s father died in a tragic accident when she was just seven. Her mother grew so depressed that she became something of a shut-in. The woman works and cares for Aubrey’s younger brother, but that must be all she can handle. She never visits her daughter, hasn’t seen one performance.”

Ms. V touched Nia’s arm. “Aubrey seems to have trouble really relating to the other students because of it all. Battle and I try to extend ourselves when we can.”

Nia swallowed her anger. Flirting in class wasn’t
that
big a deal. Hadn’t she and Dimitri had inside jokes at SAB? There was no need to hassle the girl.

“She is a great dancer,” Nia said.