Overtime

five ✧ || blending

"Wear these." Forcefully, enough so that Aubrey stumbled backwards, her gym teacher pushed a heap of red and black clothing into her arms. Her expression didn't flinch as she pointed to a door at the back of the room, a large letter 'G' painted on the wooden, red exterior. "That's the ladies changing room. Hurry up and get to you. I'll see you out here in five."

Awkwardly studying the stares of the other girls in her class, Aubrey turned and ushered herself toward the door she had been sent to.

This really was the worst possible class she could have been placed in.

Gym. More specifically, girl's gym.

It hadn't taken her long on school grounds to learn that teenage girls could be cruel. After all, gym was only her first class and already she witnessed the hushed whispers in halls and cruel sneers from those who already hated her existence. Luckily for them, she wasn't here to make friends. She was here to complete her mission.

Wandering into the change room, she dumped the clothing onto an empty bench and groaned. She ripped off her sweater, reaching for the black shirt her teacher had given her. The moment she tugged it on and reached to remove her jeans, she knew she had a problem.

Her wrists.

The scarred, scabbed skin was as clear as day thanks to her short-sleeves. If she went out looking like this, she would be busted. Her task was to blend in, and this would do anything but that. Even worse, she would be sent to meet with Glendhall. That would not be good for her cover, especially not on her first day.

In a rush, she threw on the red gym shorts and tossed her clothes into one of the unused lockers, stuffing her backpack in last. She needed to find something, anything that could help her cover the damaged skin.

While scanning the room, her eyes darted up the wall to the clock. She had two minutes left. Just as she was ready to accept her defeat, her eyes fell. Below the clock, nailed to one of the walls, was a first-aid kit.

Not wasting a moment, the brunette darted forwards and snapped the box open. Her eyes scoured the contents, hopeful to find something of value. Burn cream, muscle relaxer packs, bandages...

Bandages. A complete roll of them.

She didn't have a moment to lose as she snagged the object from its home, unrolling the band and winding it around her right wrist. She tucked the fabric around and through her index finger and thumb before wrapping it in circles around her wrists, hiding the scars she was ashamed to expose. After ripping off the last piece she needed, she tossed the roll back in the box and started for the gym.

As she left the change room, finishing up her wrap job on each of her wrists, there was a soft scoff from her left.

"Why are your hands all bandaged up?" One of the girls sneered, adjusting the long, black ponytail beginning at the peak of her scalp. She was wearing the same clothes Aubrey was only her shirt was tied tighter around her waist with a ponytail, and the sleeves had been cut off to expose the pink sports bra beneath. Her chocolate skin was perfectly clear of any kind of blemish. Truthfully, she looked straight out of a fashion magazine.

Aubrey could feel her gaze, originally piqued in interest, drop in agitation. "I'm in gymnastics. They give me better grip." She responded quickly, the lie easily passing as truth. Her arms crossed. "And they help with blisters."

The girl raised an eyebrow, her eyes trailing down Aubrey's body and back. It made her tense, as if she was being scanned for testing. "You do gymnastics?"

The attempted insult hardly phased the brunette, taking a moment to study her legs before facing her again. "Yep."

If she was to be honest, she was in better shape than most of the girls in her class. After all, she had been tossed through rigorous, daily training for the past thirteen years of her life. She would place bets that she was actually the most in-shape out of all of them.