“People in Concord City can waste this much water every day and my family doesn’t even have enough to drink.” I shake my head. “The water going down the drain is clearer than what we callcleanwater.”
I waste plenty, lathering myself up and rinsing away the soap several times, just because of how incredible it feels. I’ve never used shampoo before, so it’s a new experience, and the scent of lavender seems to linger, even after my hair is rinsed. It reminds me of the soap my father bartered for once many years ago as a gift for my mother. She’s used it so sparingly she still has a small piece of it left. There’s also hairconditioner. Following the directions on the bottle, I try it and am amazed at how soft andsilky my hair feels after I wash it out. Then I just stand there under the stream of clear, fresh, hot water, just for the pure joy of it.
Soon, my family will be able to waste water like this. My parents won’t have to struggle any longer. Beverly won’t have to work in the fields. Abigail will get the best education money can buy. Now that I’ve seen Concord City, I’m certain she’ll learn more here than she will at the schoolhouse in Troona. My family should be very happy here.
I have to wipe away a few tears when I turn off the shower, but they mix with the water that runs down my skin. I guess showers are a good place to cry. I doubt the people in Concord City have many reasons to shed tears.
Once I’m done with my shower, I dry myself off with a soft, fluffy white towel and inspect the items on the bathroom counter. There’s a toothbrush. Toothpaste. We each have a toothbrush at home, but no toothpaste. We just use water most of the time. Baking soda, when my father is able to barter for more than my mother needs for cooking, but that’s rare.
“Whoa, this tastes like mint instead of salt,” I say, my voice muffled as I brush my teeth.
The toothpaste is almost good enough to eat. Most people in Troona would probably think it’s food if they found a tube on the ground. The only reason I know what it’s actually for is because I’ve seen it mentioned in books. Well, that, and the sign on the wall that clearly spells it out. I’m sure some of the second-borns from small dirt-poor towns like Troona have eaten it, otherwise they wouldn’t need a sign.
“Weird! Feels like my teeth are polished they’re so slick,” I mumble, running my tongue across them.
The next thing I try is the hairdryer. It’s a lot nicer than sitting on the front porch, letting the wind dry my hair while it accumulates more sand than I washed away. My hair not only shimmers after I’m done, but when I brush it with a brush that isn’t missing half the bristles, it seems to have a natural wave that forms along the bottom. I’ve never had that. It’s usually just straight, stringy, and dull.
“Jeez, has my hair always been so dirty I didn’t even realize what it looks like when it’s clean?” I ask, blinking in surprise as I look at my reflection in the mirror.
A noise catches my attention, and I yank the bathrobe tight around my chest. It sounds like someone is in my suite, which raises every alarm bell imaginable. I quickly dart to the bathroom door and peek around the corner.
“Hello?” I call out, but the only thing I hear is a door slam. “Anyone there?”
I timidly step out of the bathroom and when I get to the main part of the suite, I see a table by the door that wasn’t there before. It’s filled with trays, each of them covered by a silver lid, and there are several pitchers of liquid. One looks like water. One looks like tea, which I’ve only had a few times back home. I’m not sure what is in the other two pitchers.
I approach the table, curiously lifting a lid, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head. It’s food. Alotof food. I quickly remove the rest of the lids, my mouth opening wider, watering with every new scent.
“What in the world? Nobody could eat this much,” I gasp, staring at everything.
I don’t recognize all the vegetables. I’ve had a few of them, like potatoes and carrots, but the rest are a mystery. I may know their names from books, but I’ve never seen a picture to go with the name, so I’m not sure. There’s a wide assortment of meat. Chicken, I recognize. I’ve seen beef at the market but never tried it. The rest of it, I’m unsure about, but it sure smells good. And desserts! More than one kind! I definitely won’t waste those.
No matter how good it is once I start eating, it still pales in comparison to the last meal I shared with my family. I’m all alone now. I’m not allowed to leave my room. I don’t even have a way to contact Rose. But if they’re going to feed me like this, I’m going to eat as much as I can. I don’t have much else to look forward to before the auction.
At least I’ll have a full belly when I’m sold to the highest bidder.
CHAPTER 5
Clover
There’s no time to be lonely on the day of the auction.
My day starts with breakfast. I barely finish what’s on my plate before there’s a knock at my door and it swings open before I can stand up.
A woman walks in pushing a cart filled with various cosmetic items. I recognize a few of them, but not everything. The tubes of lipstick definitely stand out, mainly because they’re much more vibrant than the simple shades I’ve read about.
“Good morning, Clover,” the woman says cheerfully. “My name is Axelina, and I’ll be your personal stylist today.”
“Oh, um, good morning,” I say, rising from my chair. “Stylist?”
“Yep, we need to make sure you’re pretty as a picture when you take the stage tonight,” she explains. “I won’t be doing anything yet. I just need to see what I’m working with. Sit back down. You’re fine where you are.”
“Okay,” I say apprehensively, lowering myself back into my chair.
Axelina is wearing a dress that looks too fancy for work, but I guess styling hair and doing makeup isn’t as taxing as working in the fields all day. Her hair is an unnatural shade of silvery blonde, piled high on her head in elaborate curls that don’t move when she walks, like they’ve been glued into place.
Her makeup is so thick I can see the line where the foundation ends at her jawline, creating a stark contrast with her neck. Her eyebrows are drawn on in thin, strange arches that make her look perpetually surprised, and her eyelashes are so long and spidery they look like they might scurry away if she blinks too hard. The lipstick she’s wearing is a bright purple that clashes with the orange undertones of her foundation and artificial tan. When she smiles, I see a smear of purple on her teeth as well.
She looks like a painting of a person, rather than an actual person. Everything seems exaggerated and synthetic in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Is this what they consider beautiful in Concord City? If so, I’m not sure I want to lookpretty as a picturefor the auction.
