“For all you newbies, this is the gym. It’s where people come to stay in good physical condition,” our supervisor said.

Summer gave me a questioning look, but I didn’t know how they used the equipment to stay in good physical condition either. We continued through another set of doors, and the air was suddenly very humid. We stepped inside, and I saw the biggest pool of water I had ever seen in my life.

“Wow!” Summer exclaimed, a little too loudly. “What is it?”

“Who said that?” our supervisor demanded.

Everyone pointed at Summer.

She gave Summer a look of disgust. “It’s a swimming pool, you dumb girl. Although I shouldn’t be surprised that an urchin wouldn’t know that. Unfortunately, it’s the only area large enough to bathe all of you. We can’t have you serving at a presidential dinner as filthy as you are. But, not to worry, when you’re done, the pool will be drained and fresh water added.”

I thought of our own dirty stone tubs in the Pit and wondered where they found enough water to fill such an enormous pool. I looked over at Summer to see if she was just as shocked as I was, but she had her hand in the air trying to get the supervisor’s attention. I made a grab for her arm to pull it down, but it was too late.

“Yes?” our supervisor asked in an exasperated voice.

“We had a bath before we came,” Summer said, proudly pointing at the two of us. I wanted to hide my face in my hands.

“Really.” She looked us up and down, not convinced. “If you don’t get into that pool yourself, I’ll assign someone to strip you and scrub that dirt off your filthy body. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Summer said quickly.

I didn’t want to strip in front of the other girls and the supervisor. My mother taught me to bind my breasts with tightly tied fabric, and I wore baggy clothes to hide them. She never wanted me chosen for this kind of work, and, as much as she loved the color of my hair, she was the one who taught me to use the coal to cover it up.

I stripped reluctantly, ignoring the glances from the other girls, and eased myself into the pool. I was relieved that the water was chest high and my ponytail only grazed the surface—the bath shouldn’t disturb the coal in my hair. I relaxed a bit and enjoyed the warmth of the water. I wondered how this enormous pool stayed so warm.

Our supervisor gave us a bar of soap and a nailbrush to pass around and then shampoo. My heart sank. I wasn’t afraid of anyone seeing my true hair color, but it would draw attention to me, and, tonight of all nights, I wanted to blend in. Figuring the guard’s threat about getting someone to scrub me if I didn’t scrub myself applied to hair as well, I decided it was best just to get on with it. I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail and slipped it around my wrist. I wet my hair and began to work in the shampoo.

“Sunny,” Summer whispered. “The suds are black. The coal is washing out.”

Black suds were dripping into the pool, darkening the water all around me. I pulled a few strands of my long hair down in front of my face and studied the bright red shining through the suds. Then I realized that most of the girls were staring at me. Our supervisor tutted. My face burned, and I sank down under the water to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. As I resurfaced, we were ordered out of the pool.

We were each given a crisp white uniform to put on, and I sighed. How could we keep these clean while serving food? What if someone bumped us, or spilled something on us? Would we be getting any extra credits for tonight’s work so we could cover the cost of the uniforms if we had to? I was already strapped for credits since I was docked half a day today.

“Well, my, my,” the supervisor said, stopping to look me up and down. I didn’t like her expression. She took a lock of my hair between her fingers and thumb and rubbed it, almost as if she were testing to see if the color would come away. She smiled. “You are going to be very popular.”

I wondered what she meant by that then realized I probably didn’t want to know.

Chapter Three

In silence, I donned the crisp white uniform and tried to gather my hair into a tight bun, but a few wisps always escaped the elastic. Frustrated, I took a deep breath and smoothed my palms over each side of my head, willing the errant strands into place.

Summer gave me a sympathetic look. “She’s just trying to scare you.”

Maybe Summer was right. After all, people in the Pit noticed my hair because it was a spot of color in an otherwise monochrome world. But up here in the Dome, the bourge were used to seeing a lot of colors. The walls, the floors, the furniture, the plants—everywhere I looked color shone out. My hair would blend in.

Our supervisor told us to line up for the elevator. She explained that the kitchen was six floors up, which was too far for us to walk. Since I walked a mile of stairs to work every day, six floors didn’t sound like a very long climb at all, but I was happy to take the elevator. I had never been in one before.

When our turn came, Summer grabbed my arm as the doors closed. The elevator began its ascent, and a rolling sensation gripped my stomach. For a moment, I thought I might be sick. Then the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened again. I’m not sure I enjoyed the ride. Summer looked a little green, too.

The kitchen was a short walk from the elevator, and we were shown through the servants’ entrance. This kitchen was different from the one Summer and I worked in on the main floor. There was polished steel everywhere, huge refrigerators, and twice as many stoves as in our kitchen. The floors gleamed white despite the many people rushing around preparing food.

“Go over there,” said a busy cook, pointing to where a group of girls dressed exactly as we were stood waiting patiently.

We joined the queue and waited for the rest of our group. Once we were all present and accounted for, our supervisor marched us into the dining room. It was positively breathtaking. Real wood floors shone with a glossy polish. Round tables scattered about the dimly lit room were draped in heavy white tablecloths and adorned with crystal glasses and silver cutlery. What looked like actual candles stood in the centre of the tables—but I was sure they couldn’t be real because the law prohibited open flames inside the Dome. Any open flame would be too much of a fire hazard. But the flickering glow from the candles was still real enough to make sparkles of light dance on the crystal and silver.

A camera crew was set up to broadcast the president’s arrival. Some of the dinner guests were already seated at the tables while others still shuffled in. Our supervisor told us to stand along the back wall with our backs straight and our arms at our sides. The president would be the last to enter the room, and we, along with the rest of the guests, would have to salute him.

It took forever, but finally everyone was seated. The national anthem began to play, heralding the president’s arrival. The sound of chairs scraping across the floor filled the room as everyone stood to attention for the arrival of President Damien Holt.

The whole thing was all so pompous, yet I was excited by the thought of seeing him for real. I glanced over at Summer, and I could tell she was excited too.

The front of the room was hard to see with so many people in the way, but I was tall and standing on my tiptoes gave me a partial view. I saw the president enter and was struck by how short he was. The patches of grey at his temples stood out in stark contrast to his otherwise dark hair. He took his position at the head table and waited for the music to end. When it did, everyone in the room snapped their right arm straight up in a salute then quickly placed it over their heart—a gesture meant to show support and demonstrate obedience. The room was silent until the president cleared his throat.