Chapter 4
Clover
Everything happens so fast, my head spins.
The concierges are ready when we step off the train.
One for each of us. Mine quickly takes me to an elevator, and when the doors open, I’m the only one getting on it.
Rose is being taken to a different elevator.
I mouth I love you to her before we are both whisked away.
This could be the last time I ever see my best friend, unless I see her at the auction.
The hotel itself is impressive, but after my concierge takes me to my suite, I’m even more overwhelmed.
It’s the most luxurious room I’ve ever seen or imagined, much less stayed in.
There’s a real bed with a mattress so soft it feels like you’re lying on a cloud.
Fresh water is abundant. It’s bottled for drinking.
There are faucets everywhere, but the water they provide is for washing your hands, taking a bath, or even a shower.
I’ve read about showers, but never actually had one.
I’m used to sharing the bath bucket with my entire family, and we only change it once a week.
Some families can only afford to change it once a month.
My concierge is a woman named Janice who waits by the door while I look around my suite. She works for The Grand Hotel. It must pay well, considering how immaculate she looks with her polished nails, perfect teeth, and flawless skin. I don’t think she’s ever had to bathe in salt water.
“As you can see, we provide luxury accommodations for our honored guests,” she says proudly. “We’ll bring breakfast, lunch, and dinner to your suite. Dinner should arrive soon. If you need anything else, you can reach me by pressing zero on your Concord Assistant.”
“Uh, what’s a Concord Assistant?” I ask, still looking around in awe, amazed by how much of the city I can see from the large glass windows.
“This,” she says, walking to a screen on the wall near the water bar.
“It’s interactive, and if you don’t want to stand here while you look at everything, you can also access it on your television.
” She points to a wall and as I take a step closer, I see the outline of the television.
It blends in with the wall so well I didn’t even notice it. “The remote is on the coffee table.”
“Wow, okay,” I say. “Um, when is the auction?”
“Tomorrow night,” she replies. “Until then, rest, relax, and enjoy the accommodations. Is there anything you need right now?”
That soon. My stomach clenches with dread, but I try to shake it off.
I look around, unsure what I could possibly need. I have far more here than I had at home in Troona. Then again, that’s not saying much.
“No, I think I’m fine,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”
After Janice leaves, I spend more time exploring my suite.
The door has no handle on the inside, just a panel beside it that says access is restricted.
Whatever that means. It’s a good thing there’s air conditioning, because the windows are bolted shut.
Not that I would be brave enough to open one of them this high up.
Just looking out them makes me dizzy if I glance at the ground instead of the scenery.
I stretch out on the bed for a while, enjoying the comfort. Then I check out the Concord Assistant, which seems to just be a way to order food and beverages. No alcohol. It’s on the menu, but all the drinks are crossed out, like I’m not allowed to order it.
“I could really go for a bottle of agave wine right now,” I mutter, grabbing a bottle of water before sitting down on the couch.
The couch is almost as comfortable as the bed. I could probably fall asleep on this thing and wake up feeling more refreshed than I’ve ever felt opening my eyes on a straw mattress. The water is so clean and refreshing I finish the entire bottle before grabbing another and downing that one too.
“Wow, I could drink this all day,” I say to myself, reaching for a third, surprised that there’s no weird ache in my stomach like there is after I drink water back home. “This may be even better than agave wine. Too bad it doesn’t give you a buzz.”
I turn on the television and find that most of the stations aren’t accessible. There’s a channel with information about The Grand Hotel, a channel playing the same testimonials we saw on the train, and one with the weather. That’s it. I can’t even watch movies.
“I finally have a television in front of me that I can watch, and everything worth watching is blocked,” I sigh, drinking more water. “Great.”
I’m not sure why everything is restricted like it is. It seems a little odd. We’re about to be sold and will probably never see Concord City again. I’m not sure how watching a movie or having a glass of wine would hurt anything.
After a few minutes, my thoughts return to the auction.
I’m not sure how it will work. Will we all line up together?
Be paraded across the stage one by one? Will I be sold first?
Will Rose already be someone’s property when I take the stage?
I have so many questions now that I’m alone in my suite with nothing to distract me from my thoughts.
“I should have asked Janice,” I sigh. “Not sure how much she would have told me.”
I dwell on it until my stomach is in a knot again, but dwelling on it doesn’t change anything.
All it does is make me more concerned. If I’m going to be alone in this suite until tomorrow night, I might as well try to enjoy it.
I can’t watch television. I can’t order a drink.
But there are still things I’ve never tried before.
I stand up and walk into the bathroom. A tub full of warm water I can practically swim in, or a shower.
Both seem inviting, but the shower is more intriguing.
It takes me a few minutes to figure out how to use the control panel, but the instructions are fairly simple.
I can set the temperature as hot or cold as I want.
“Why would anyone ever take a cold shower?” I question aloud, confused by the concept.
The shower wastes more water than my family uses in a week before the control panel flashes to signify that it has reached my desired temperature. I put my hand under the water and it’s so hot I have to turn the temperature down a few degrees.
“Okay, I think that’s perfect,” I say.
I remove the tattered rags that barely make up a dress, already eyeing the soft bathrobe hanging behind the door. I’ve heard about them but never seen one. It’s thicker than the winter coat Beverly wore when she worked in the fields during the colder months, but so soft it could be used as a bed.
I step into the water, and as it cascades across my skin, I gasp. “Oh, my goodness!”
It’s incredible. Possibly the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. The water is so warm it soothes my aching muscles, blasts away the grime that has accumulated since my last bath, and the steam even opens my sinuses until I can breathe better than I have in years.
“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 call clean water.”
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 hair conditioner. Following the directions on the bottle, I try it and am amazed at how soft and silky 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. A lot of 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.