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 mouthI love youto 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.
