Dark Turns (18 page)

T
he IV bag hung from its metal hook, a strange hourglass ticking away the moments Nia spent at her student’s bedside. Lydia slept sideways on rumpled sheets, matted brown hair pooled behind her head. Orangey-green spots freckled the corner of her pillowcase, remnants of vomit that hadn’t made it into whatever container medical centers used for that kind of thing. The room’s fluorescent lights jaundiced Lydia’s tan skin, yellowing everything except the dark purple bruise on her forehead.

Lydia’s foot rested atop the blanket, mummified in cotton and gauze. The swelling enlarged the appendage into an archless club, far larger than anything Lydia’s thin leg should carry. Nia wished the hospital had put on a cast. Once on, it would hide the misshapen foot, allowing her to concentrate on Lydia’s recovery rather than the career-damaging—possibly career-destroying—injury. Lydia needed to audition
next year for companies. If the girl didn’t land somewhere after high school, she would end up on the sidelines, struggling to recuperate while teaching younger replacements, praying for a triumphant return to form that would somehow erase her sabbatical.

Nia peeled back a clump of dark hair from her student’s cheek. An acrid mix of sweat and sickness oozed from Lydia’s skin, yet she looked parched. Dead skin and what was left of the Halloween face powder clumped into a thick white line atop the girl’s cracked bottom lip.

Why hadn’t Lydia listened? She couldn’t have believed Aubrey wanted to be a real friend. When Lydia fell, Aubrey was nowhere to be found.

Lydia hadn’t explained. She’d regained consciousness moments before the EMT’s arrival, shaken awake by violent convulsions that expelled a green, foamy liquid from her stomach.

Footsteps clicked on the linoleum floor. Nia whirled around to see a woman, a few shades darker than herself, in navy scrubs.

“Is she going to be okay?”

The nurse unhooked the IV. “Springfield hospital wouldn’t have sent her back to us if there were real problems.”

“So they did a CT scan or something? She was unconscious when I found her.”

The nurse examined her patient’s face. She tilted her head, as if noticing the large bruise on Lydia’s forehead for the first time.

“I’m sure Springfield hospital did a toxicology screen. But judging from that hematoma, my guess is she got fall down drunk and knocked herself out.” The nurse pulled the plastic IV tube from the blue port protruding from Lydia’s
hand. “Don’t worry. Faces bruise easy. If she had done real damage, that bump would be a lot bigger.”

“What about her ankle?”

“She’ll need an appointment with an orthopedist. There are some good ones in New Haven.”

The woman pulled the tape from the back of Lydia’s hand. She plucked out the IV and pressed a cotton ball to the spot it had occupied. “Such a nasty fall. Kids always end up here after drinking. They think they’re just having fun, acting grown, but they don’t know how to handle liquor at this age.”

“She went to a party. She probably didn’t realize how strong the drinks were.”

The nurse shrugged. “Well, if all that vomiting didn’t teach her not to drink, then I’m sure that injury will.”

Profanities bubbled in Nia’s throat. She didn’t have an intelligent retort. Lydia had done something stupid. But people did stupid things all the time. It wasn’t fair that Lydia’s mistake had cost her the fall show and possibly her dancing career. Aubrey’s underage drinking hadn’t cost her anything.

Nia reached for Lydia’s bandaged hand. Her student would need comfort when she saw her ankle, and there was no one else to give it. The campus medical center had undoubtedly alerted her parents, but the call wouldn’t have gone out until Springfield had discharged her. Lydia’s parents lived in Manhattan. Even if they’d jumped in a car while still on the phone, they might not arrive before their daughter woke.

Lydia’s hand moved beneath Nia’s own. The girl rolled to her back.

“Water?”

Nia scanned for a bottle. Damn it. She would have to call the nurse.

“Lydia. It’s Nia. I’ll get the nurse to bring you some.”

Lydia’s eyes opened like her lashes contained lead. She squeezed them shut almost as soon as her dark irises became visible. She turned back onto her side toward Nia, away from the overhead fluorescent lights.

“What happened?” The teen spoke with the raspy tenor of a chain smoker.

“I think you had some drinks at a party and then fell down the stairs.”

Lydia fought her eyelids open. “How? I don’t drink.”

“You don’t remember?”

The girl squeezed her eyes shut again. “I went to the party and there was beer, but I didn’t have any. I had a Sprite or something. Maybe a Mountain Dew? It was, like, green.”

“Marta said you had a couple drinks.”

Lydia struggled to sit up. She pressed her hands into the bed and pushed back. Her swollen foot dragged the sheets as it slid upward. “No. Aubrey got a soda for me. It was just lime soda. I told her I wasn’t drinking. It tasted just like soda.”

Tears fell from beneath Lydia’s closed eyes. She chewed the dead skin on her bottom lip. “My ankle. It’s broken. I can’t believe it’s broken. I just . . .”

Lydia’s shoulders shook. Nia patted her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t understand how this happened.”

“It will be all right. You’ll see a good orthopedist. The doctor will fix you good as new.”

Tears dribbled down Lydia’s cheeks and fell from her jaw. She nodded slowly, unconvinced. “I just don’t get how this could happen. I had a soda and then . . .” She sniffed.
“Then I can’t remember anything. How can I not remember anything at all?”

Nia lowered her voice to a near whisper. She didn’t want to come across as judging. The last thing Lydia needed was to hear
I told you so
. “Sometimes, if you drink too much, you black out. Usually bits and pieces come back.”

Tears trickled from Lydia’s dark eyes. “But I don’t drink. I wouldn’t have. My dad . . .” Her face reddened. “He’s going to be so disappointed in me. I just don’t understand. I wouldn’t do this.”

“He’ll be happy you’re okay.”

“No.” Lydia’s eyes fixed Nia. The pupils shivered in watery pools. “You don’t understand. My mother was nearly killed by a drunk driver in Miami. She was in a coma for days, and now she’s in rehab up here. That’s why we moved. I would never, ever drink.”

Lydia’s determined expression shone through the redness in her face. It was the same look she’d had when she’d said she wanted the fall solo. She hadn’t lied then. She wasn’t lying now. That meant only one thing.

Anger roiled Nia’s stomach. For a moment, she feared her rage would explode from her mouth, spewing bile and profanity. She pushed the feeling into her gut.

“You said Aubrey gave you the drink?”

N
ia stood on the stone steps outside the girls’ dormitory. She blew into her hands to warm her fingers. The sun had yet to break above the eastern hillside. A hazy darkness cloaked the campus. The morning belonged in the dead of winter.

The temperature tightened Nia’s muscles. She faced the dorm’s arched entrance and planted her toes on the step edge. Her right heel dangled over the landing below. She pressed down on the right foot until she felt a dull ache in the back of her heel. She rose onto the pad of her standing foot and repeated the stretch.

Stress aggravated old injuries. She would warm up. Then, as soon as the sun officially announced a new day, she would confront Aubrey.

The door flew open in front of her. She nearly jumped at the sound. Five o’clock in the morning was a silent hour on campus. Most students didn’t venture from their dorms until seven thirty, at the earliest, coaxed outside by the smell of breakfast wafting down from the cafeteria. She’d come straight from the medical center.

A hooded sweatshirt hid the advancing student’s face. The girl watched the ground as she hustled down the steps. Near-opaque white tights hugged long legs that led up to a navy pea coat. Bright pink leg warmers bunched around her calves.

“Aubrey?”

The girl froze on the step above her. She pulled the hood back onto her neck, uncovering a neat blond bun. A sarcastic smile twinkled in her ice-blue eyes. She folded her arms across her flat chest.

“’Morning, Nia. I was just heading to the studio to get some extra practice in.”

“I was looking for you last night.”

The girl pulled her lips between her teeth. She raised her eyebrows as if to ask why.

“You took Lydia to that party. She fell down the stairs.”

Aubrey’s hand landed on her breast. “That’s so horrible.” She shook her head as though disappointed. “But don’t worry about the solo. I’ll do my best to make Lydia proud.”

Nia stifled the urge to rip the blond bun off the teen’s head. “I spoke to Lydia in the medical center. The last thing she remembers is you giving her a lime soda.”

Aubrey sighed. “It’s not surprising that she blacked out. I mean, she had so many drinks.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “To tell you the truth, it was embarrassing. It’s a blessing she doesn’t remember.”

Nia crossed her arms in front of her, mimicking Aubrey’s defiant stance. The girl might have Ms. V fooled with her doll eyes and feigned earnestness, but Nia wouldn’t be taken in.

“Lydia doesn’t drink alcohol. She has family reasons for not touching the stuff—”

“Oh, is her mom a drinker?” Aubrey’s brow knitted with overacted concern. “Poor thing. That would explain a lot.”

“Somebody spiking Lydia’s drink would explain a lot.”

Aubrey tilted her head, as though the suggestion were so outlandish that it had never occurred to her. “That’s quite an accusation. It could land somebody in jail.”

Nia’s eyes narrowed. “It certainly could.”

Aubrey descended to Nia’s step. Mock concern still pinched the pouty face. “Well, of course, she’d need to prove it. If she doesn’t remember anything, that seems pretty impossible.”

“The hospital did a tox screen. If you put something in Lydia’s drink, it will show up.”

“Well, if her drink was spiked, I hardly see how the police would blame me. A bunch of senior guys threw the party and bought the beer.” Aubrey shrugged. “I guess you can’t put anything past horny seventeen-year-old boys.”

“You may think you’re going to get away with all the lies that you tell, but you’re not.”

Aubrey’s oversized eyes widened. She put a hand to her cheek. “What do you mean?”

“Sneaking into adult clubs, giving Lydia spiked soda, telling the police that you didn’t ask to meet Theo in Claremont—”

“I’d watch what you accuse me of.” Aubrey’s syrupy tone distilled into anger.

“It’s all going to catch up to you, Aubrey.”

The corner of Aubrey’s mouth ticked up. “I better go. If I’m going to perfect the solo in the next week, I’ll need to start right away.”

The girl nearly skipped down the remaining steps. She strode across the courtyard and up the hill, a one-woman army in pink leg warmers, ready to dance.

“M
arta, watch your fingers. Keep them together.”

Marta corrected the claw hand without acknowledging her instructor. She’d refused to look at Nia since that day on the steps. The starved teenager hid between the T twins at the barre, staring at Talia’s back as Nia took the class through the well-worn cool-down routine.

Aubrey refused to look at anyone but Nia. The teen’s giant blue eyes followed her every movement, singeing the back of Nia’s neck as she walked down the line at the barre. They bored into her as she corrected Suzanne’s hip position. They pricked her arms as she pushed June’s knee, urging her to turn out.

Nia paid special attention to June. Aubrey’s ill-gotten ascendance to soloist had left Joseph without a partner,
and June would now dance the pas de deux. The girl’s form was decent, but she lacked the finishing touches that separated the pros from the hobbyists. Her knees didn’t turn out enough. Her feet didn’t arch high enough. Her movements were as stiff as a starched collar, and she couldn’t jump. Fortunately, her small stature meant Alexei would have little problem picking her up, whether she got the leaping height to make it easy or not.

Aubrey’s stare needled into Nia’s back. She couldn’t take it anymore. She whirled to meet the gaze full on. Her hands flew to her hips. “Do you need help?”

Aubrey snickered and lowered into a plié.

Ms. V’s bell rang out of the attached office. Monday’s morning class was over. Nia would get a break from Aubrey until rehearsals later that afternoon. She retreated to the side of the room and worked her thumbs into her arch. Her rage—or maybe the stress of swallowing it—was making her foot ache for the first time in more than a week. Every muscle, tendon, and fiber of her being wanted to stand in the center of the room and point her index finger at Aubrey for orchestrating Lydia’s fall. But she couldn’t accuse her. She didn’t have any proof. Not even Lydia’s own father believed another student could be so evil.

Mr. Carreño had pulled Lydia from the school, citing a lack of official supervision at the party where his daughter had imbibed to oblivion. Ms. V had informed her after Sunday’s class of the news and its impact on the fall show. She’d said he’d threatened a lawsuit.

Nia had already known about Mr. Carreño’s fury thanks to an emergency Sunday meeting with Stirk. Surprisingly, the dean hadn’t been upset by the belated RA rescue. When Stirk had recounted the conversation with Lydia’s father to the RAs, she’d actually thanked Nia and Peter for
responding in such a timely manner and reiterated that they were not required to supervise student activities after five o’clock in the afternoon on Friday, when school officially let out.

Nia missed Lydia. The two days without her made the class feel disjointed, less like a ballet school than an extracurricular activity. Her favored student had been a real preprofessional ballerina. Nia prayed the girl would have the same potential after surgery and rehabilitation. She wanted to check on her, but the dean had forbidden contact, given the lawsuit threat. Lydia had not been in touch.

Nia glanced in Alexei’s direction. Was the rumor mill already churning about Aubrey’s involvement?

As usual, Alexei gossiped with June on the way out the door. He whispered lower than usual, but he seemed to look at Aubrey sideways.

Once or twice, Nia caught June’s eyes on her. An irrational voice said they were discussing her relationship with Peter, but she assured herself that her pairing with another RA was old news. More likely, June feared that Nia would overhear the latest secret. Whatever it was, it must have been juicy, because she couldn’t make out any of the whispers. Alexei usually shared gossip at the top of his voice.

The class filed into the hallway. Ms. V’s office door opened as the studio door shut. “Ms. Washington, a word.”

Nia didn’t like the woman’s clipped tone. She stood extra straight as she walked into the office, prepared for another Aubrey accusation. She wouldn’t let this one slide.

Ms. V’s desk was the opposite of the Detective Kelly’s. Not one paper sat on the tabletop. The office was clean, airy, filled with light from a large picture window overlooking the lake. Framed photos of prior students striking ballet poses were arranged on the walls. In the center was
a black-and-white article from a Russian newspaper. Ms. V, thirty years younger, was pictured in the accompanying photo. She looked resplendent as “the Firebird,” with the sharp, fanned tutu that Nia knew was red, even though the photo didn’t show color.

The woman behind the desk contrasted starkly with the photograph. She wore a billowy black top and thick glasses that distorted her eyes like a fishbowl.

“Is something wrong?” Nia asked.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Ms. V’s mouth set in a line. The skin tightened on her veined neck. “Your relationship with some of the students appears strained. Marta is avoiding eye contact and I’ve noticed Aubrey being rather curt with you.”

Nia wanted to spill everything: Marta’s secret, Aubrey’s wild behavior. But she couldn’t. She had no good reason to share Marta’s problems with Ms. V, and the teacher was sure to interpret any disparaging remarks she made about Aubrey as spiteful retribution for Aubrey’s complaints about her conduct.

Nia sighed. “Marta told me some things as her RA that I felt obliged to repeat to another involved party. That party told her parents, and I believe she’s upset about that.”

Ms. V looked at Nia over the top of her glasses. “Well, Marta is clearly having some issues. I’m sure it is good that the parents were notified. And Aubrey?”

Is a little psycho
. She couldn’t accuse the girl of orchestrating Lydia’s fall without proof. “She’s friends with Marta.”

Ms. V removed her glasses. “Yes. I’ve noticed that they’ve become close. Do what you can to smooth out those relationships. You can’t teach if you don’t command the respect of your students.”

“I’ll work on it.”

Nia’s clenched her teeth. She didn’t want Aubrey’s respect; she wanted Ms. V to see that her favorite student wasn’t worthy of admiration. Aubrey’s little Ms. Perfect persona was an act. Nia would prove it.

Somebody had to have seen Aubrey add something to Lydia’s drink.