The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts

impressed. “She said you were like some sort of ninja.”
    “Hardly,” I say.
    “How’d you learn to fight like that?”
    “Just did.” I’m not about to out Gazer to the two of them. Even though Gazer hasn’t been a cop in more than a decade, it still might not look good for him if people knew he’d been training me. People tend to question it when a grown man teaches a girl how to throw a knife properly.
    “You can do that all the time?” Jesse takes another chip and chews it thoughtfully.
    “Yeah.”
    “I may have a business proposition. Could be a nice little change for you.” Jesse doesn’t hide the fact that he’s checking me out. His eyes go up and down my body. I know what he’s looking for. We may have to wear uniforms at the school but it’s still obvious who is rich and who isn’t. Jesse sees that I don’t have any jewelry. I don’t have a pair of expensive shoes. There are no designer sunglasses on top of my head. My backpack is old and worn, most definitely secondhand.
    He knows I’m broke. It’s not like I’ve ever tried to hide it.
    “What kind of money are we talking about?” I ask.
    “A lot.”
    I wonder what Jesse would consider a lot. He’s one of the only students who drive a car and it’s impressive enough that even I’ve turned to watch him as he drives down the street.
    Don’t get me wrong. I don’t care about money. The old saying is “You can’t take it with you” and I’ve always thought about it that way. I’m not saving for retirement since I’m fairly certain I’m not going to live past twenty. So what’s the point of worrying about it? Gazer gets enough money off his disability pension to keep us afloat and that’s all that matters. So what if we live in a rundown church that doesn’t have hot water half the time. So what if I wake up in the mornings unable to feel my toes sometimes. I don’t need nice things. I’d probably just ruin them anyway.
    But as I sit there, I realize that a bit of extra money could go a long way. I could leave it to Gazer, a thank-you for helping me all these years. I could even give it away; put it toward one of the rare privately funded Heam support centers. God knows they could use the help. I could even use it to buy myself something nice, a sort of farewell gift for me when I leave this world. I’ve always wanted to eat in an expensive restaurant. I’ve never had fancy food. Just like the prisoner gets his last meal, maybe I could do something similar?
    I glance around again. I can see Mr. Erikson across the room watching me. Not out of concern though; he seems happy to see me socializing.
    “I’m listening,” I say to Jesse.
    Paige’s grin grows wide and she finally sits down next to us at the table. “It’s not a big thing,” she says. “We just need a little protection.”
    Jesse waves his hand in her direction, obviously meant to shut her up. It works. She closes her mouth and waits.
    “As my girlfriend blabbed,” Jesse says, “we do need a bit of help. We did something really stupid and now we’re afraid that certain people aren’t going to leave us alone.”
    “You mean Trevor?”
    He nods. “Yeah, stupid dealer just doesn’t get it. We’re not interested. See, that’s what happens when you’re too polite to the hired help.”
    “Isn’t that what you want me to be?” I can’t help smirking. Hired help? Me? The thought is almost funny enough to make me laugh out loud. But I’m professional enough to keep a neutral face.
    “God, Jesse.” Paige punches him on the arm. “What’s wrong with you? It’s this sort of crap that got you in trouble in the first place.” She gives him a shove and turns to me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a jerk. Will you do it?”
    “What exactly do you want me to do?”
    “Show up at the party on Friday night. We’ll have a list of who gets to come in and who doesn’t. Trevor isn’t on the list. Neither are a few others. All you have to do is make sure