The Showcase

Chapter Twelve

Our downhill walk to the lake in the dark was much easier than actually trying to bathe in it. After a whole week of getting ready in my high-tech bathroom at the apartment, the idea of stripping down in the chilly early morning breeze and sloshing around in the mud and rocks wasn’t exactly appealing. I couldn’t believe how spoiled I’d become.

I rolled up the legs on my leggings and dipped my foot in. It was freezing.

Sage was already in the water, her head bobbing up and down a few yards away. Fine, I said to myself, just do it.

I shook my hair out, slipping the hair band around my wrist and shedding my clothes quickly. I sucked in one final breath and plunged into the icy water.

When I resurfaced, I couldn’t help but laugh in spite of myself.

“What’s so funny?” Sage called over, lifting her head up out of the water.

“I just never thought that skinny-dipping before dawn would be part of The Showcase.”

“I don’t think any of us expected this,” she replied, wading over to the edge. “I can’t feel my toes. Or my fingers or my nose. I really hope I’m clean, because I cannot risk frostbite this early in the month.”

I turned away to look at the river while she got out of the water. It wasn’t very wide or very fast; if needed, we could swim across it with ease. The water was a dark, sad looking shade of navy that made the water look thick and dirty. Off in the distance, about a few miles west of here, I could see tall, grey mountains sprinkled with trees.

“I’m dressed now, Amia,” Sage informed me. I turned around and swam over to where she was, ringing her huge curls out and tying them back into a tight ponytail. “I don’t mind, you know,” she said, noticing how I was floating awkwardly near the shore. “I mean, we’re both girls, right?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just...” I trailed off. I hadn’t exactly been taught to be conservative, but how many Compassions graced the cover of Vogue in a lace bikini? I just didn’t feel comfortable.

“I get it,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Here, I won’t look while you get dressed either.”

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.” As soon as she turned, I scampered out of the water. Crap, I thought, I’m dripping. “Why didn’t anyone think to ask for towels?” I muttered bitterly, as I hopped up and down, partly from the cold, partly for the drying purposes.

“I asked myself the exact same question,” Sage answered. I could tell by her voice that she was rolling her eyes, something she seemed to do quite a lot.

We laughed, and I pulled on my shirt and squeezed my still-wet legs into my leggings.

“This is the definition of uncomfortable,” I groaned, squirming in my clothes. “What are these made of?”

Sage scooped up her dirty clothes and flashlight, clicking it on since the sun still hadn’t risen. “Some kind of polyester-spandex blend? Leave it to The Council to make even our clothes feel like fabric prisons,” she said bitterly.

I’d never heard anyone speak of The Council like that, but I couldn’t help agreeing with her. In fact, I was pissed off with them. I had a right to be after what I’d been through in the past week alone. I didn’t even want to consider what was in store for the next month.

***

By the time we got back to camp, everyone was up and anxiously milling around. The cooking fire was going, and Axiom was peeking into the food pack with a pained look on his face.

“Oh, thank God!” He sighed when he saw us. “Not to rush you or anything, but I think my stomach's starting to eat itself.”

I smiled, and followed Sage over to the tent to dump our stuff. Our sleeping bags and blankets were already there, neatly rolled and folded next to our backpacks.