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BELLA
Ifollowed Cori and Anya to the bath, all of us clutching towels and some kind of gowns or robes made from flowing white cotton.
“So, what is the deal here exactly?” I asked.
“We have to purify,” Cori said. “Basically just a shower.”
“But don’t try to put on deodorant or anything afterward,” Anya cautioned.
“Oh yeah, no scents, no nothing,” Cori said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“No freaking clue,” Cori said. “But don’t try to get around it, or they’ll make you do it all over again.”
“Noted,” I said.
We had reached the staircase and I spotted a dozen other girls heading downstairs from the opposite wing.
The halls, that had been so quiet when I arrived, were now teeming with women around my age carrying armloads of white fabric.
Thankfully, no one seemed to take notice of me. They were too busy chatting and laughing. It seemed like a friendly environment, and one I would enjoy being part of. I felt myself let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
We took a turn to the left at the bottom of the stairs and followed a hallway past what must have been the back of the kitchens.
After a long walk past many doors, there were two steps down and I could hear the echo of voices over tile and hear the hiss of steam.
“Here we go,” Cori said.
We headed into a huge bathroom with dozens of shower heads sticking out of the walls at regular intervals. The floor was tiled a Caribbean blue and sloped toward a drain in the center. Soft light came in through slit-like glass block windows.
But I hardly noticed the decor for the women, short and tall, heavy and thin, and in every color - naked women, bathing and drying off, moving busily around the humid space like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I could feel the blood rush to my face. I tried to look away but there was nowhere to look.
“It gets easier after the first time,” Cori murmured, taking me by the elbow and steering me to a shelf where she placed her towel and robe in bins marked with numbers. “Remember your number.”
I would have an easy time remembering my lucky number, seven. When I placed my things down, I noticed someone had scrawled a bit of graffiti inside with a purple sharpie. It looked like a crow’s head, with lines coming off the top like a halo or a crown. Probably something from a band I’d never heard of, or maybe it was some kind of witch thing.
I looked up to ask Cori about it, but she was already stripping down.
Shit.
Well, I could either prolong the inevitable, or I could get naked before anyone had time to notice me.
The idea that being clothed might actually draw more attention had me pulling my sweater and t-shirt over my head without delay.
By the time I was bare, Cori and Anya were heading to the showers. I followed and let the hot water pound away at me.
Now that this was happening, I was feeling more okay about it. The soap was unscented and harsh, but it felt good to clean up after the long day of travel. And no one seemed to notice me.
“Wash up ladies, and keep moving,” a matronly voice barked out.
I opened my eyes to see a fully dressed professor in an emerald gown marching through, making me realize my nakedness all over again.
“That’s Head Mistress Hart,” Cori murmured.
“You guys ready?” Anya asked.
