Captives (19 page)

Matron led the Glenrock women and girls to the Registration Department, where they each took a test to determine which jobs they would do after leaving the harem. Shaylinn’s results listed all sewing-related tasks. Figured. In Glenrock, women mostly did the mending and cooking and cared for their families.

Shaylinn also learned from the man in Registration that the SimTag in her hand could be used to purchase things, and that she received one thousand credits a week for serving in the harem. The news left her feeling both curious and unsettled.

On the way back to their rooms, Matron showed them the wonders of the Highland Harem. They took the elevator to the top floor to see a view of the city, toured a spa, visited an indoor swimming pool, tried ice cream—which Shaylinn found delicious—and looked at a movie theater, a game room, and a room filled with exercise machines.

“The Safe Lands is all about pleasure and comfort,” Matron said. “And no place in the entire land offers more enjoyment and relaxation than the harem. So, sleep in and indulge in the comforts. Or if the idle life is not your fancy, you can begin task training. The choice is yours.”

Wyndo screens hung everywhere. Big ones mounted in corners, little ones in elevators and hallways. Sometimes they were divided into four different images. Shaylinn also saw dozens of little yellow cameras throughout the building, which Kendall said were run by the enforcers for surveillance.

Back in the dormitory, the huge picture windows that had once looked out on the grassy lawn were displaying the image of the the Safe Lands logo, a gold bell within a circle on a black background. “How did the windows become a movie screen?” Shaylinn asked.

“Most of the windows in the Safe Lands use Wyndo technology,” Kendall said. “If you ever want to know for sure, touch your fist to any glass surface and you’ll find out.”

Matron asked them to sit on the chairs and sofas that had been arranged to face the windows—Wyndos. So strange. Shaylinn sat between Kendall and Jemma.

A curvy woman in a pale yellow sleeveless blouse and flowing black pants stood in front of the windows. Her skin had a brownish orange tint and didn’t look papery or veiny at all. Images of flowers and vines looked to have been drawn down the ridges of her arms.

Shaylinn leaned close to Kendall. “Why does the plague affect some more than others?”

“It’s not that at all,” Kendall said. “People like Tyra are just better than others at hiding it.”

“Tyra Grant tasks as a beauty care specialist.” Matron pointed to the tanned woman, then tottered over to a table and chair near the stairs and sat. “If anyone can work a miracle, she can.”

Tyra eyed the girls and beamed, her teeth whiter than the carpet. She was holding a small Wyndo like Shaylinn’s in one hand. “My job is to help you become beautiful, okay? So we’re going to talk makeovers, then we’ll go shopping.”

“We get new clothes?” Mia asked.

“Yes, and don’t use your own credits. Clothing is on the harem.”

Shaylinn wanted to smile. Finally, something different than animal skins or faded dresses. But she reminded herself that they were prisoners. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy it here.

“Now, I’m noticing a few things straight away,” Tyra said. “Damaged hair … oily complexions … None of you shave or wax your legs?”

“Like candle wax?” Mia asked.

“Why would we?” Jemma asked.

Tyra wrinkled her nose. “Because hairy legs are ugly. And shaving your underarms decreases body odor.”

Shaylinn twisted to smell her armpit. Smelled fine to her.

“Our goal today is to get you femmes beautified so you can meet the task director general on the Safe Lands ColorCast and attend the entertainment orientation,” Tyra said.

“I don’t want to meet the task director general,” Naomi said. “He ruined our lives.”

“This is mandatory,” Tyra said, “so you may as well make the best of it.”

“Fine,” Naomi said. “When I meet him, I’ll demand he take me to see Jordan.”

“Where are the men being kept?” Shaylinn asked, wondering where Omar might be.

“
Please
, ladies,” Tyra said. “The task director general is a wise man who deserves our respect. It’s a privilege to meet him.”

Naomi flubbed her lips. “None of you deserve my respect. You’re clearly all insane.”

“Let’s get back on track, all right? Wyndo: slides.” With Tyra’s words the picture on the windows changed from the Safe Lands logo to a picture of three women captured mid-walk, laughing, dressed in clothing that hugged their curves and bared their arms and legs. They wore high-heeled shoes and clutched each other’s arms as if they might fall over at any moment.

“Beauty,” Tyra said. “It’s every woman’s birthright, if not duty. It makes us happy, desirable. But one mustn’t judge beauty, for what’s beautiful to me may not be to you.”

Naomi coughed. “Hairy legs.” Shaylinn snickered.

Tyra pursed her lips. “Wyndo: next.” The screen flashed to a woman in a flowing red dress. “Wyndo: next.” Three women wearing yellow and black. “Wyndo: next.” A close-up of a woman’s red lips exhaling black vapor. “Wyndo: next.” An overweight woman dressed in a tight yellow dress that looked more like another layer of skin than clothing.

This time Mia giggled.

“Don’t judge.” Tyra scowled Mia’s way. “Melana Georjan is the star of
Big is Beautiful.
” Tyra pointed to Mia. “You. Come stand beside me.”

“What did I do?” Mia asked as she approached Tyra.

“You volunteered to be our first project, okay?” Tyra said. “One of the best things about living in the Safe Lands is the availability of glamour. The freedom to be beautiful.”

Shaylinn scooted to the edge of her seat.

“We
are
beautiful,” Jemma said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“But you do nothing to display it.” Tyra’s gaze roamed over Mia’s body. Shaylinn had always envied Mia’s looks, but Mia looked plain next to Tyra. Tyra was so sleek and vibrant in her black pants, while Mia looked faded in Old jeans and purple knit top. “Mia, you have so much potential beauty just waiting to be enhanced. You’re tall and have a great figure. Your skin is relatively clear, your coloring is nice. You don’t even need Roller Paint. You simply need some glossy
clothes and to lighten that drab hair, maybe give it some curl. Perhaps some blue contact lenses or … lavender?” She tapped on her handheld Wyndo. “What do you think, Matron?”

Matron exhaled a plume of green vapor. “She could use a posture class as well. She slouches.”

Mia’s eyebrows sank low, and her eyes flashed. “I’m the prettiest girl in Glenrock. Why don’t you pick on someone who needs help? Like Shay.”

The impact of Mia’s words made Shay jump.

“Mia!”
Jennifer said.

Jemma took hold of Shaylinn’s hand. Shaylinn looked down at her lap, noticing how tight her big legs made her dress, and how chubby her fingers were compared to Jemma’s.

“Sor-ry,”
Mia said.

“You’ll
all
take a turn,” Tyra said, “then we’ll go to the salon and get started. Shaylinn, why don’t you come up next?”

Shaylinn shook her head. “I don’t want to.” She wanted help—to be beautiful. But she didn’t think she could take the humiliation.

“I’ll go next,” Jemma said, standing up.

“No, I want Shaylinn,” Tyra said. “I want to use Mia’s comment to make the point that everyone has something beautiful about themselves.”

“May as well get it over with, honey,” Kendall said, giving Shaylinn a side hug.

Jemma sat down, and Shaylinn made her way forward. She was taller than Tyra by a full head. She was sure her girth and frizzy hair made Tyra look like a stick drawing.

“Let’s see now.” Tyra tapped her finger to her lips and examined Shaylinn. “You have a lovely complexion and lots of long, curly hair. And your features are nicely balanced. Threading that lip and those eyebrows will make a big difference right away.” She made a quick note on her Wyndo. “Are you pleased with your weight? If so, you could work to gain more and audition for
Big is Beautiful.
”

“I don’t want to be on the TV,” Shaylinn said. “And I hate being fat.”

“Shay!” Jemma said. “You’re
not
fat.”

“I’ll put you down for a cosmetic consultation, then.” Tyra fiddled with her Wyndo. “And you might consider breast implants. I honestly don’t know how you turned out so curvy with no breasts!”

“She’s only fourteen,” Jemma said.

“Right. Tall for fourteen. Wait to get implants until your body is done growing.” She fingered Shaylinn’s hair. “Your hair is quite damaged. Do you brush it?”

Shaylinn shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“You should
never
brush curls like yours. Or, if you hate the curl, you can have it straightened. Truthfully, with your round face, the volume of your hair isn’t helping.”

Tears welled up in Shaylinn’s eyes, and she hung her head. These were all things she knew to be true. Ugly, ugly, ugly, just like Omar had said when they were little.

“Your skin is beautiful. But most of you girls could use an acne program.” Tyra lifted Shaylinn’s hand to look closer. “Is that dirt under your fingernails?”

“It’s probably leather. I was working a hide when the enforcers came.”

“A hide? But you’ve showered since, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ma —” Shaylinn stopped herself before saying ma’am. “I like the showers here.”

Tyra sighed and tapped on her Wyndo. “Manicures and pedicures for all.” She then launched into a long discussion of the best types of clothing to wear depending on each girl’s body type, using Shaylinn’s shape to call out ways to slenderize a waist or create correct proportions. Each term Tyra used was like a key to unlocking a strange yet hypnotic new language.

When Tyra finally let Shaylinn sit down, Jemma moved beside her and whispered, “I think you’re perfect already.”

Shaylinn blushed and leaned against Jemma’s side. Maybe, just maybe, if she let Tyra make her beautiful, Omar would ask to paint her.

The public humiliation continued. Naomi disputed each criticism Tyra dished out, but Shaylinn felt like Tyra made many good points. Shaylinn would love to know how to make her eyebrows look sculpted, and while the idea of different-colored eyes and breast implants scared her, she couldn’t help wonder how a cosmetic consultation could help her be thinner.

They spent the rest of the morning in the spa, where they all received new hairstyles, waxings, manicures, and pedicures. Kendall talked Shaylinn into getting bright red paint on her fingernails and toenails. Shaylinn thought it looked ridiculous, but Kendall said it was
glossy.

Shaylinn loved her hair now. The stylist left it long enough that a few tendrils still reached her waist, but it no longer frizzed; instead, it curled in wide ringlets. It was so pretty.

Tyra’s assistants wheeled carts of clothing into the spa, and the girls tried different outfits. Some of the clothing was so ugly that the girls refused to try it, no matter how much Tyra begged. Shaylinn didn’t care. She had a great time trying it all. The most ridiculous was a fiery pink dress covered in matching feathers that made her look like a fluffy bird. She strutted out of the dressing room and chirped until she had everyone laughing.

“Fortune, have mercy!” Tyra ran across the room. “Absolutely not! Take if off! I told you simple and streamlined for your body, Shaylinn.”

“I was just playing.” Shaylinn went back into the fitting room and made a nasty face at herself in the mirror, mocking Tyra.

Someone tossed a blue and white gown over the door. “Try this one, Shay,” Jemma said.

Shaylinn lifted it down to take a look. The fabric was a beautiful floral print of navy, cobalt, periwinkle, and white. The dress had a V-neck—maybe too deep—an empire inset waistband, and a full pleated skirt that stopped just above her knees.

Shaylinn sighed at its beauty, knowing that something like this would never fit. She put it on anyway. She stepped out of the fitting room, smiling so wide that she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, Shay! I love it!” Jemma said.

“Me too, honey,” Naomi said. “You look mad gorgeous!”

“It’s not my favorite on you,” Tyra said. “I’d rather see you in black, even a pale yellow.”

“I mimic no one,” Shaylinn said, quoting Matron, “and I love this dress.”

“But your skin is dark enough that pale yellow would be glossy with your dark hair.”

“I’m not changing.” Shaylinn ran her hands over the skirt, admiring the soft fabric and the piping that edged the inset waist. It made her feel like one of Jemma’s fairy tale princesses.

Shaylinn got to keep the dress. Jemma chose a lacy red dress with a black belt. Mia was wearing a slinky, floor-length black dress with bright yellow squiggly lines. Kendall picked a brown and orange floral chiffon dress. And Tyra talked Naomi into a royal blue satin dress.

Once everyone had shoes and jewelry to match, Tyra took the girls to a theater on the opposite end of the harem building. Shaylinn stumbled along in a pair of high-heeled white sandals. They’d seemed comfortable at first, but were soon pinching her toes and were becoming hard to walk in.

“Sit somewhere in the middle ten seats of the first three rows,” Tyra said. “We want the camera to make the theater look full, and we’ve only got about thirty people here tonight.”

A handful of people were already sitting in the front of the theater, including the older women from Glenrock —Jennifer, Chipeta, Aunt Mary, and Eliza. Mia hugged her mother. Naomi and Jemma ran to talk to the ladies. Shaylinn chose to stay beside Kendall in the middle of the third row. Seeing Mia and her mother together made Shaylinn miss her own mother, and Penelope and Nell too. Why weren’t they here?

A bald man stood in the center of the stage, fussing over a microphone. He wore black gloves and had a funny black tattoo that covered half his head. “Testing, one, two, three, four …”

Shaylinn glanced over her shoulder. In back of the room, in a small
black booth, two men were working, one standing behind a camera as big as he was. Both men wore headsets.

“Those gloves he wears make me think of the evil Count Rugen, the six-fingered man from
The Princess Bride
,” Jemma said, sitting down on Shaylinn’s left. Jemma was always referring to that film. She lowered her voice to a whisper and seemed to say to herself, “Maybe it’s a sign Levi will come for me like Westley did for Buttercup.”