“Compelling, imaginative, and unique. I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough!”
— Mary Lindsey, author of Shattered Souls
1 (first chapter)
“Remember…
You’ll never be one of them,” Miss Gellner said, repositioning each of us on
our divans in the sitting room so our gowns draped elegantly around our crossed
ankles.
She stepped back
and gazed at the group of us, her face pinched and stern like always, but I
spotted a tiny glimmer of pride behind her rheumy eyes. Twenty girls: lovely,
demure, quiet. She was pleased with us, even if she wouldn’t say it out loud.
Miss Gellner
blinked, as if bringing herself back to the moment. “Things won’t change once
you leave here,” she went on. “Simply because you’ll be pampered and spoiled,
your life’s mission won’t suddenly be any different. Remember that. Your sole purpose is to enrich the lives of
your new owners.”
As she said
this, she lightly tapped her bamboo training stick against my back, not a hard
whack the way she had done relentlessly when we first transferred from the
Greenwich Kennel to the training center, where she and her staff could
cultivate us into the sort of girls we were bred to be. This was just a warning
tap, reminding me to sit so that my spine was a stem, and I was the flower
resting atop it.
It was a pose
we’d practiced daily for the past four years; during music and etiquette and
dining, even during our nightly baths. But the fluttering in my stomach
distracted me, drawing me down into myself. My whole body felt fluttery: my
hands, my feet, even my eyes. I worried that the moment the two grand doors
leading to the reception room swung open, I might flap away; a feather caught
on the wind.
Next to me,
Seven bit nervously at her bottom lip. It was weird to think that by tonight
she’d have a new name, a real one. The breeders at Greenwich assigned us
numbers as names at conception: One through Twenty, since twenty was the
maximum number of girls they were allowed to have each year. I was Eight, but
not for much longer. By tonight, I could be anything.
Across the room,
Miss Gellner took a few steps towards the grand wooden doors, resting her hand
lightly on the knob before she turned to face us one last time.
"I want you
to keep your composure when they come in. I've spent four years preparing you
for this moment.” She thumped her training stick on the ground for emphasis.
“Four years. Don’t waste them. Each move that you make, every turn of your head
and pout of your lip speaks to my effectiveness as a trainer and I won’t have
that work tarnished. When I open these doors, I expect you to remember all the
things I've taught you.”
The stiff lining
of my dress rubbed against my rib cage and I ached to shift to a more
comfortable position, but I held still, staring straight ahead at Miss Gellner
with a soft smile placed carefully on my lips.
“Be sure to hold
your tongues,” she went on. “You are
not doing the selecting. Do not ask questions. Speak if spoken to, but keep
your answers brief. We don't want to scare away a potential buyer with a girl
who has too forward a notion of who’s in charge."
Beside me, the
other girls were sitting silently. We were perfectly trained, all of us. And
lovely, too. In our new dresses, we looked like royalty. Miss Gellner had
picked out a different shade of gown for each of us, our first piece of
clothing that was distinctly ours. She’d deliberated long and hard on the color
choices. She wanted us each to look different. It wouldn't do for the customers
to think they were getting cloned girls even though there were plenty of
differences between us to set us apart. Yes, we all had large eyes, spaced
perfectly on our heart shaped faces. We all had small noses, long, thin necks,
and rose petal lips. But we each had distinct coloring. Seven’s hair was nearly
black. Sixteen’s eyes were green, the color of fresh summer grass, and Twenty’s
skin was the same warm brown of the toasted bread that we were rewarded with on
Sunday mornings. We were unique. One of a kind.
I was happy with
the dress Miss Gellner had chosen for me. It was the palest shade of blue,
hardly a color at all. These dresses would be the only item that would
accompany us to our new homes. Our new owners would provide everything else.
"We’re
lucky to have a number of congressmen and senators here today," Miss
Gellner went on. "Power, prestige, wealth, you'll be surrounded by the
best, which is why it is important that you be
the best." Miss Gellner sighed, nodding her head once. “All right girls.
It’s time.”
She turned and threw open the doors. “Ladies…
Gentlemen…” her voice boomed as she glided into the next room. “If you’ll
kindly follow me, I’ll show you to the sitting room. You’ll have a chance to
look over each of the girls before you make your decision. As I told each of
you over the phone, the number on your tag will determine the order of
selection.”
A moment later a
stream of bodies and voices flowed into the room. I drew a breath and held it,
trying to compose myself, but the fluttering inside me only grew worse. My
vision blurred as the men and women pressed closer, talking loudly to one
another.
“Oh my! They’re
so little,” a woman cooed “They look like twelve-year-olds.”
“I can assure
you, they’re sixteen,” Miss Gellner said. “They’re fully grown; all measuring
in at exactly five feet.”
An older man
grabbed a lock of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “Like corn silk,”
he said to the woman next to him. “Did you say you were hoping for a blond or a
red head? This one almost seems like a mix of the two.”
“And it does
have beautiful eyes. Look, they’re practically turquoise,” she crooned. “But, I
was hoping for a real red head. There’s an auburn one over there we should look
at.”
I didn’t dare
turn my head to watch them walk across the room to look at Ten.
A middle-aged
couple finished looking at Seven and circled around me. I blinked a few times,
finally bringing my eyes back into focus as the man’s dark eyes skated over me.
He was obviously quite a bit older than me, but his jaw was much stronger than
the other men I’d seen so far and his eyes were bright. A sprinkling of gray
hairs dusted the dark hair at his temples. The woman beside him had probably
been a beauty when she was younger, but now she was a different sort of
beautiful: regal and refined. She was tall, even taller than Miss Gellner, with
high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and long arched brows perched overtop piercing
blue eyes. Even though she had lines around her eyes and mouth, her hair was
almost as dark as Seven’s, without a hint of gray. Everything about her
intimidated me.
“Now this has
some promise,” the man said, looking into my eyes. “Do you like this one?”
“Oh, John, do we
really need to do this?” The woman sighed, her eyes drifting around the room.
“Do what,
Darling?”
“You can cut it
with the ‘Darling’, too. It’s not like anyone’s listening. They’re busy
choosing their own pets,” she said, gesturing towards the rest of the people in
the room with an elegant sweep of her arm. “And you can stop pretending I have
any say in your precious little project. You know I couldn’t care less about
getting her.”
Her husband
stepped forward, so close their bodies almost touched. “You know how it looks
for us not to have one, don’t you? After all the time I spent getting this bill
to pass. People are saying things. You don’t want them to think—”
She took a step away from him, eyeing an
old man who had turned his attention to their conversation. “Whatever you say, Dear,” she interrupted. “I’m merely
along for the ride.”
“You can’t argue
that Ruby needs this,” the man said. “We agreed.”
Her face softened. “I know.”
He took a deep
breath, and when he turned back to me, it was as if he’d flipped a switch,
changing his face back to the same well-groomed look of prominence and stature
I’d seen on it to begin with.
“Stand up and
give us a little whirl, Love,” he said to me.
I hadn’t anticipated the weakness in my
legs, but I stood and turned slowly, the way I learned in my Poise lessons. I
kept my chin up, neck elongated, my arms held out ever so slightly from my
sides as if my hands were brushing the skirt of a tutu.
The man smiled
once I faced him again. “And what are your talents? The Kennel Trainer said
that you each specialized in two.”
“My talents are
piano, dance, and singing. Although my vocal range is not as diverse as some.”
His forehead
creased, his eyes narrowing, and my stomach flipped. If Miss Gellner had been
standing next to me, she would have lashed me with her stick. We’d practiced
our lines over and over and still I said it wrong. There hadn’t been any need
for me to point out my faults so blatantly. I should have only mentioned the
piano and dance and not said anything about the singing. I was trying too hard
to impress.
“Three talents?”
he asked. “Marvelous. I suppose We’d be getting a little bit more bang for the
buck if we go with you then, isn’t that right?”
The man’s
phrasing confused me and I lowered my eyes to the ground and smiled softly the
way we’d been taught to do if we ever didn’t know how to answer a question.
“So which is
your favorite?”
“Favorite?” I
asked.
“Which one do
you like the most?”
“I’m quite good
at all three as long as the song I’m singing is written for a mezzo soprano.”
“But certainly
you have a favorite?”
My mind raced,
trying to think over all the scenarios we’d spoken about like this one in our
Conversation class, but I drew a blank. Those classes were meant to help us
understand our new owner better, not to help them understand us. I couldn’t
come right out and tell him that I had a favorite. Miss Gellner would be
outraged. Maybe I could try to change the subject? But then he might realize I
was doing it to avoid his question, and he would know that I really did have a
favorite.
It was too
complicated an interaction.
The woman smiled
slyly. “Maybe she doesn’t understand your question John. Sure, she’s pretty,
but they weren’t bred for brains.”
“I thought you
said you wanted to stay out of this.”
She raised her
hands and took a step back without saying another word.
The man tried
again. “What I mean to say is: which one of your talents do you prefer? Is
there one that makes you particularly happy?”
I swallowed,
hoping to push down the rock that had lodged itself in my throat. “Well sir, if
there’s one that you prefer, I’m sure
I’d be delighted to perform for you.”
The man sighed
and shook his head. “Never mind. Why don’t you sit back down?”
I smiled once
more and sank back onto the divan, trying to hold my head high even though my
eyes burned.
For the next
hour, the groups of men and women circled around the room. They were all so
much bigger than I’d imagined they’d be, not only in their physical stature,
but their presence, as if the room couldn’t contain them. They gobbled up the
air.
Finally Miss
Gellner moved us into the concert room. We’d each been assigned one talent to
demonstrate to give the clients a better taste of what they’d be buying. Four
and Five would each be performing an adagio en pointe, a few girls were playing the flute and the cello,
but the majority of us would be playing the piano or singing.
Maybe it should have bothered me that I wouldn’t
stand out, but all I could think about as we sat down in the velvet seats
arranged along the edges of the room was Debussy’s First Arabesque in E major,
the song Miss Gellner had chosen for me to play. It wasn’t an elaborate song. I
could play solos that were so much more difficult like the piece by Prokofiev
that I learned last year, but I was glad she hadn’t chosen that one. Sure, I
wouldn’t be able to show off my finger work playing the First Arabesque, but
that didn’t matter. I
could already feel the notes of the song moving up through my fingers and arms,
a soft vibration that settled somewhere at the base of my neck like the warm
hand of a friend.
We moved in order: One, Two, Three, Four, on and on
until finally it was my turn. As I climbed the stairs to the small stage at the
front of the room and sat on the tufted cushion of the piano bench, it was as
if a white curtain had been drawn down between the crowd and me. I took a deep
breath, savoring the moment before I placed my hands on the keys and started to
play.
My fingers floated over the ivories for only a short
four minutes, but my heart and mind quieted. I didn’t know if the other girls
felt this way when they were playing, as if they were all alone and the rest of
the world melted away leaving the air awash in soft color. I’d always been too
embarrassed to ask. What if it meant that I had something wrong with me?
Those four minutes didn’t last long enough and
before I knew it my fingers had stopped, hovering over the keys as the last
notes died away. A polite spattering of applause brought me back to the room
full of strangers. As I stood, I glanced out into the audience, allowing myself
to imagine which of these people might be my future owner. Toward the back of
the room I spotted the man with the salt and pepper hair and his wife. Neither
of them was clapping, but for just a second he held my gaze and nodded ever so
slightly.
That small gesture made my face burn with shame. He
knew that I lied to him before when he’d asked me which one of my talents was
my favorite. Of course it was piano, but I could never say it out loud. I was
supposed to bring pleasure to my new masters, not to find pleasure for myself.
A cold sweat broke out across my back and I
shivered, sitting back down on my chair to watch the remainder of the
performances. If he could read me so easily, maybe everyone else could, too.
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