Eliza Jane - In Too Deep

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry, I just had a…feminine situation and…” I look to the girl, realizing I don’t even know her name.

“MJ,” she offers.

“And MJ got up to help me find what me I needed.”

Vera eyes me cautiously, as she seems to decide whether or not to believe me, and her gaze travels past me to MJ, who, thanks to my robe, appears to have just gotten out of bed. She then turns to the lanky boy with dark hair hanging in his eyes. “Logan, what are you doing in here?”

He flips the hair from his eyes like he’s bored and quite unconcerned at being caught in the girls’ dorm.

“Logan’s a light sleeper. He heard something and came in to check on everything,” MJ answers for him.

I take in the full sight of him –from his poker-straight hair that hangs in his eyes, down to his long feet in mismatched socks, and pray that Vera won’t notice he’s not in pajamas.

“Why are you dressed?” She nods to his jeans and T-shirt.

“I sleep naked,” he says with such conviction I think he might be telling the truth.

Vera clears her throat. “Well, take care of business,” she says to me, “and then everyone back to their beds.” She turns to Logan and points to the boys’ dormitory. “And that means you in there.”

“You got it, V,” Logan says, taking Vera by the shoulders and steering her toward the door. She casts one last suspicious glance over her shoulder at us.

“Taylor, right?” MJ asks.

I nod.

“Thanks for covering for us.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Yeah, that was quick thinking.” Logan flips the hair from his eyes again. “Sorry we woke you up.”

I don’t mention that I hadn’t actually been asleep.

“I better go before Vera busts an artery.” Logan ducks and fishes his shoes out from under my bed.

MJ hands my robe back to me, and I realize just how pretty she is underneath the dark eyeliner and heavy makeup. Her skin is the color of warm honey and she has rich chocolate eyes.  She smiles at me again and then turns and punches Logan in the arm. “Next time, if you keep your mouth shut, Vera won’t hear us.”

He rubs his arm. “Next time you want to go to a place like that, ask someone else. I probably caught Hepatitis just walking in there.”

MJ reaches out to swat his arm again, but Logan dodges her hit and disappears through the doorway.

I’m curious about where they’ve been but figure now isn’t the time to ask. MJ heads for her bed, peeling off her jeans and removing her bra through the sleeve of her T-shirt before climbing under the covers. 

The cafeteria is much more civilized than at my old school. For one thing, it’s clean, and for another, the food actually looks edible. Most notably, though, it’s quiet. A group of less than twenty students doesn’t create the roar of several hundred.

The cafeteria itself is pretty impressive. Dual lines are each staffed by a chef in a white hat, one flipping omelets, the other blending custom smoothies. MJ and I are running late, due to oversleeping after last night’s interruption and cover up. We only have time to grab something quick—a bagel for me and a large coffee to go for her.

I pull my schedule from my pocket as we head back out of the cafeteria. Logan, the boy from last night, strolls up to meet us.

“All the first years have the same classes,” MJ says, not glancing up from her giant cup of coffee.

“But we all have our own independent study where we work on our specialty,” Logan says, wedging himself between us. “What’s yours, by the way?”

“Uh, computer programming.”

“Nice.” He nods. “A hacker.”

I’ve never considered myself a hacker. I don’t even see myself as a computer geek, just someone who likes to spend a lot of time online.  “So everyone here has a specialty?”

He nods. “You’re the only hacker. MJ’s is languages. Mine is explosives.”

“Like making bombs?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He grins, flipping his hair out of his eyes. “Or dismantling them.”

“Don’t worry,” MJ says. “They make him work out in the barn away from the school ever since he blew out a window in the lab.”

Logan’s grin deflates into a scowls but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches over and snatches my schedule from my hands. “What do you have for gym?” He studies the paper.

“Something called Zumba.”

He chuckles. “Of course. They’ve been giving that to all the girls.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s a Latin dance type of aerobics,” MJ says as she tosses her empty cup at a nearby trashcan and misses.

I remember late-night infomercials with middle-aged women in too-tight spandex jumping around erratically. “How is doing Zumba going to prepare me for life as a secret agent?”

“It’s not.” Logan shakes his head like the idea’s insane. “It’s just to keep you in shape.”

“What do the boys have?” I ask.

“Basketball. We had rock climbing last quarter with the girls.”

“I still think it’s strange. Why a dance class?”

“Bria leads it. She’s a second-year. She convinced McAllister the girls needed their own gym class, and because we don’t have two gym teachers, she told him she’d teach it.”

“And he just let her?” In my old school, I couldn’t convince a teacher to give me a hall pass to use the bathroom, let alone design my own class. I keep forgetting how different this place is.

“Have you met Bria?” He smirks.

“No, not yet. Why?” A wide grin spreads across his face. “What’s her specialty?”

“Seduction techniques. “I glare at him. “Well, officially its negotiations, but how exactly do you think she gets what she wants?” I shrug “You’ll understand when you meet her.”

I follow MJ into the locker room to change for gym. I use my open locker door to shield myself as I change into a pair of baggy mesh shorts and an oversized T-shirt that still smells like home.

MJ looks me over with a discerning gaze. “No,” she says and turns back to her locker, fishing out a pair of black skin-tight yoga pants and a fitted black tank top. “Put this on.”

“Why?” I glance around and find the answer to my question. The other girls are in similar outfits. My baggy shorts and T-shirt, which were perfectly suitable at my old school, are out of place. “Thanks.” I take the clothes from her, making a mental note to ask my mom for black yoga pants.

The six of us gather in the girl’s gym, which I learned from Logan had been recently remodeled at Bria’s insistence. The polished wood floors and wall to wall mirrors make it feel like a true dance studio.

A tall girl with jet black hair swishing at her waist glides through the glass doors and walks to the front of the room. This must be Bria.. With an olive complexion, striking green eyes, and a thin body that’s curvy in all the right places. She’s stunning. I silently vow to start a diet tomorrow.

Bria turns on the music—a quick Latin beat—and claps her hands, signaling that class is about to begin. I already feel inferior in her presence; let alone attempting to dance in front of her. All the girls fall silent and turn to face her, seemingly just as mesmerized as I am.

Bria’s eyes fall on me. “Have you ever done Zumba before?”

I shake my head, embarrassed a being called out. My voices breaks when I try to speak. “No,” I blurt out.