The Selection Stories Collection (9 page)

He nodded again, but crossed his arms to pout. I’d had no idea he’d take my leaving this way. It was the exact opposite of May. She was bouncing on her toes, absolutely giddy.

“Oh, America, you’re going to be the princess! I know it!”

“Oh, hush! I’d rather be an Eight and stay with you any day. Just be good for me, and work hard.”

She nodded and bounced some more, and then it was time for Dad, who was close to tears.

“Daddy! Don’t cry.” I fell into his arms.

“Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you’ll always be a princess to me.”

“Oh, Daddy.” I finally started to cry. That was all it took to unleash the fear, the sadness, the worry, the nerves—the one sentence that meant none of it mattered.

If I came back used and unwanted, he’d still be proud of me.

It was too much to bear, to be loved that much. I’d be surrounded by scores of guards at the palace, but I couldn’t imagine a place safer than my father’s arms. I pulled away and turned to hug Mom.

“Do whatever they tell you. Try to stop sulking and be happy. Behave. Smile. Keep us posted. Oh! I just knew you’d turn out to be special.”

It was meant to be sweet, but it wasn’t what I needed to hear. I wished she could have said that I was already something special to her, like I was to my father. But I guessed she would never stop wanting more for me, more from me. Maybe that’s what mothers did.

“Lady America, are you ready?” Mitsy asked. My face was away from the crowd, and I quickly wiped away my tears.

“Yes. All ready.”

My bag was waiting in the shiny white car. This was it. I started to walk to the edge of the stage to the stairs.

“Mer!”

I turned. I’d know that voice anywhere.

“America!”

I searched and found Aspen’s flailing arms. He was pushing the crowd aside, people protesting at his not-so-gentle shoves.

Our eyes met.

He stopped and stared. I couldn’t read his face. Worry? Regret? Whatever it was, it was too late. I shook my head. I was done with Aspen’s games.

“This way, Lady America,” Mitsy instructed from the bottom of the stairs. I gave myself a quick second to absorb my new name.

“Good-bye, sweetheart,” my mother called.

And I was led away.

I
WAS THE FIRST ONE to the airport, and I was beyond terrified. The giddy excitement of the crowd had faded, and now I was faced with the horrific experience of flying. I would be traveling with three other Selected girls, and I tried to get control of my nerves. I really didn’t want to have a panic attack in front of them.

I’d already memorized the names, faces, and castes of all the Selected. It started as a therapeutic exercise, something to calm me down. I did the same thing with memorizing scales and bits of trivia. Originally, I had been looking for friendly faces, girls I might want to spend time with while I was there. I’d never really had a friend. I’d spent most of my childhood playing with Kenna and Kota. Mom did all my schooling, and she was the only person I worked with. When the older siblings moved on, I dedicated myself to May and Gerad. And Aspen. . .

But Aspen and I were never just friends. From the moment I became truly aware of him, I was in love with him.

Now he was holding some other girl’s hand.

Thank goodness I was alone. I couldn’t have handled the tears in front of the other girls. It ached.
I
ached. And there was nothing I could do.

How in the hell did I get here? A month ago, I was sure of everything in my life, and now any little piece of familiarity was gone. New home, new caste, new life. All because of a stupid piece of paper and a picture. I wanted to sit and cry, to mourn for everything I’d lost.

I wondered if any of the others girls were
sad
today. I imagined that everyone except for me was celebrating. And I at least needed to look like I was too, because everyone would be watching.

I braced myself for all that was coming, and I made myself be brave. As for everything I was leaving behind, I decided I’d do just that: leave him behind. The palace would be my sanctuary. I’d never think or say his name again. He wasn’t allowed to come with me there—my own rule for this little adventure.

No more.

Good-bye, Aspen.

About half an hour later, two girls in white shirts and black pants just like mine walked through the doors with their own aides hauling their bags. They were both smiling, confirming my thought that I was the only one of the Selected who might be depressed today.

It was time to follow through on my promise. I put on a smile and stood to shake their hands.

“Hi,” I said brightly. “I’m America.”

“I know!” said the girl on the right. She was a blonde with brown eyes. I recognized her immediately as Marlee Tames of Kent. A Four. She didn’t bother with my extended hand; she moved in for an immediate hug.

“Oh!” I exhaled. I hadn’t expected that. Though Marlee was one of the girls whose faces seemed genuine and friendly, Mom had been telling me for the last week to look at these girls as enemies, and her offensive thinking had leaked into my own. So here I was expecting at the very best a cordial welcome from the girls who were prepared to fight me to the death for someone I didn’t want. Instead I was embraced.

“I’m Marlee and this is Ashley.” Yes, Ashley Brouillette of Allens, Three. She had blond hair, too, but much lighter than Marlee’s. And her eyes were very blue, which looked delicate in her peaceful face. She seemed fragile next to Marlee.

They were both from the North; I guessed that was why they came together. Ashley gave a neat little wave and smiled, but that was it. I wasn’t sure if she was shy or if she was already trying to figure us out. Maybe it was that she was a Three by birth and knew to behave better.

“I love your hair!” Marlee gushed. “I wish I’d been born with red hair. It makes you look so alive. I hear that people with red hair have bad tempers. Is that true?”

Despite my rotten day, Marlee’s manner was so vivacious that my smile grew wider. “I don’t think so. I mean, I can have a bad temper at times, but my sister is a redhead, and she’s as sweet as can be.”

With that we settled into an easy conversation about what got us mad and what always fixed our moods. Marlee liked movies, and so did I, though I rarely got to see them. We talked about actors who were unbearably attractive, which seemed strange since we were off to be Maxon’s pack of girlfriends. Ashley giggled every once in a while but never more than that. If she was asked a direct question, she’d give a brief answer and go back to her guarded smile.

Marlee and I got along easily, and it gave me hope that maybe I’d come out of this with a friend to show for it. Though we talked for probably half an hour, the time flew by. We wouldn’t have stopped talking except for the distinct sound of high heels clicking across the floor. Our heads all turned in unison, and I heard Marlee’s mouth open with a pop.

There, walking toward us, was a brunette with sunglasses on. She had a daisy in her hair, but it had been dyed red to match her lipstick. Her hips swayed as she walked, and each fall of her three-inch heels accentuated her confident stride. Unlike Marlee and Ashley, she didn’t smile.

But it wasn’t because she was unhappy. No, she was focused. Her entrance was meant to inspire intimidation. And it worked on ladylike Ashley, who I heard breathe an “Oh, no” as the new girl walked closer.

This person, who I recognized as Celeste Newsome of Clermont, Two, didn’t bother me. She assumed we were fighting for the same thing. But you can’t be pushed if it’s something you don’t want.

Celeste finally reached us, and Marlee squeaked out a hello, trying to be friendly even in the midst of intimidation. Celeste merely looked her over and sighed.

“When do we leave?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” I answered without a hint of fear. “You’ve been holding up the show.”

She didn’t like that at all, and I got a once-over from her. She wasn’t impressed.

“Sorry, quite a few people wanted to see me off. I couldn’t help it.” She smiled wide, as if it was obvious she was meant to be worshipped.

And I was about to surround myself with girls like this. Great.

As if on cue, a man appeared through the door to our left.

“I hear all four of our Selected girls are here?”

“We sure are,” Celeste replied sweetly. The man sort of melted a little, you could see it in his eyes. Ah. So this was her game.

The captain paused a moment and then snapped to. “Well. Ladies, if you’ll just follow me, we’ll get you on the plane and off to your new home.”

The flight, which was really only terrifying during the takeoff and landing, lasted a few short hours. We were offered movies and food, but all I wanted to do was look out the window. I watched the country from above, amazed at just how big it all was.

Celeste chose to sleep through the flight, which was a small mercy. Ashley had a foldout desk set up and was already writing letters about her adventure. That was smart of her to pack paper. I bet May would love to hear about this part of the journey, even though it didn’t include the prince.

“She’s so elegant,” Marlee whispered to me, tilting her head toward Ashley. We were sitting across from each other in plush seats in the very front of the small plane. “From the moment we met, she’s been nothing but proper. She’s going to be tough competition,” she said with a sigh.

“You can’t think about it that way,” I answered. “Yes, you’re trying to make it to the end, but not by beating someone else. You’ve just got to be you. Who knows? Maybe Maxon would prefer someone more relaxed.”

Marlee thought that over. “I guess that’s a good point. It’s hard to not like her. She’s awfully kind. And so beautiful.” I nodded in agreement. Marlee’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Celeste, on the other hand. . .”

I widened my eyes and shook my head. “I know. It’s only been an hour, and I’m already looking forward to her going home.”

Marlee covered her mouth to hide a laugh. “I don’t want to talk badly about anyone, but she’s so aggressive. And Maxon’s not even around yet. I’m a little nervous about her.”

“Don’t be,” I assured her. “Girls like that? They’ll take themselves out of the competition.”

Marlee sighed. “I hope so. Sometimes I wish. . .”

“What?”

“Well, sometimes I wish that the Twos had an idea about what it felt like to be treated the way they treat us.”

I nodded. I’d never really thought of myself being on the same level as a Four, but I guess we were in a similar place. If you weren’t a Two or Three, it was just varying shades of bad.

“Thanks for talking to me,” she said. “I was worried that everyone would just be out for themselves, but you and Ashley have been really nice. Maybe this will be fun.” Her voice lifted with hope.

I wasn’t so sure, but I smiled back. I had no reason to shun Marlee or be rude to Ashley. The other girls might not be so laid-back.

When we landed, the air was silent as we walked the distance from the plane to the terminal with guards at our side. But once the doors were opened, we were met with ear-shattering screams.

The terminal was full of people jumping and cheering. A path had been cleared for us with a golden carpet lined with coordinating rope barriers. At regular intervals along this channel were guards, looking around anxiously and poised to strike at the first hint of danger. Surely there were more important things they should be doing?

Luckily, Celeste was in front, and she started waving. I knew immediately that that was the right response, not the cowering I had been considering. And since the cameras were there to catch our every move, I was doubly glad I hadn’t been leading the pack.

The crowd was wild with joy. These would be the people we lived the closest to, and they were all looking forward to catching the first glimpses of the girls coming to town. One of us would be their queen someday.

I turned my head a dozen times in a matter of seconds as people called my name from all over the packed terminal. There were signs with my name on them, too. I was amazed. Already there were people here—people not in my caste or from my province—who hoped it would be me. I felt a little roll of guilt in my stomach that I would let them all down.

I dropped my head for a moment and saw a little girl pressed up against the railing. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. In her hands was a sign that said
RED-HEADS RULE!
with a little crown painted in the corner and tiny stars everywhere. I knew I was the only redhead in the competition, and I noticed that her hair and mine were very nearly the same shade.

The girl wanted an autograph. Beside her, someone wanted a photograph, and beside him someone wanted to shake my hand. So I went practically down the entire line, turning around once or twice to talk to people on the other side of the carpet, too.

I was the last one to leave, making the other girls wait at least twenty minutes for me. Quite honestly, I probably wouldn’t have left as soon as I did except the next plane of Selected girls was coming in, and it seemed rude to overlap their time.