The Selection: One of the Selected

2: The Submission

I found the form was easy enough to complete. 

Two languages spoken (French as well), name, contact information, caste. It felt strange knowing your caste was necessary information, but I presumed it was for security reasons, background checks. 

Special skills. Did I have any of those? 'Aziel, do you think I have any special skills?' I inquired to the boy lounging on the sofa next to me, as I was crouched at the coffee table to complete the application. 

'Pfft. As if,' he retorted, but then appeared to have a second thought.

'Well, I suppose you're decent at those circus skills, or whatever they're called,' he added.

The circus skills probably wouldn't get me into the palace, for fear I would run away and join one. It had happened before, years ago, so we had been wary since. I only learnt to do some tricks as a discreet form of busking, when there was a price rise for groceries. My time on the streets was cut short, however, when I saw a young boy being whipped for stealing, and I was threatened too. 

I decided to write "acrobatics" onto the paper in the end.

'Where is mother, father and Poppy? I'm sure they'd be more help to me than you,' I pointed out, and Aziel stuck his tongue out at me, but pointed to the kitchen all the same. I wandered through and found mother folding some clothes, while Poppy gazed wistfully out the window. Father was sat at the dining table, a steaming mug in front of him and a newspaper open in his hand. An enlarged photo of Prince Maxon was emblazoned across the front, and bold letters spelling, "QUEEN SEARCH - will it be you?" over the top. 

'You alright, Quinn?' mother asked, not looking up from her task at hand. 

'Do I have any special skills?' I asked, wafting the form through the air into their eyesight. 

'Circus?'

'Not cooking.'

'Easily persuaded.'

Mother, Poppy and father all spoke at the same time, respectively. (a/n: I mean this in the way that they said it in that order, sorry if it caused confusion)

'Uh, thanks, but if that is all, then I have finished my form. Can we go to the Services Office soon?'

'Sure, my lovely. I will just finish with this washing then we can go. Put your shoes on ready!' mother smiled, finally meeting my eyes. I nodded, slipped the paper into my pocket and searched for suitable shoes. 

It was a nice day out, so we would presumably be walking to the office. 

After a few moments, mother came to the front door and smiled excitedly at me. It seemed she was more thrilled for this opportunity than I was, but going by what I heard, it was the hope of the money powering her joy. 

'Ready now? Come then. Bye everyone!' mother said, clapping her hands together and using her arm to push me out the door. I didn't even have a chance to shout a farewell before the door was slammed and mother was marching me to the office.

I heard it before I saw it.

The swooning crowd of girls and their families filling up the street, in a very disorderly manner, despite the desperate attempts of some fluorescently-dressed men. They were told to "shove off you highlighters" and they sloped back a little.  

Mother and I were stood waiting, when I overheard the people ahead of us' conversation.

'-look beautiful!'

'We wanted to look pretty for our picture.'

'Picture?'

'Yes.'

I groaned and tried desperately to smooth my black locks, and freshen my face, not aware that we were going to be photographed. Some people looked as if they were out to a party, while there were some caste seven's who were raw from work, in muddy overalls or tool belts.

The line was slow, but eventually we got to the front. I confirmed my details, and set myself into a chair; they gave me barely a second before a bright flash shot in my face. I blinked in shock and staggered away. If they were going by pictures to choose who would be selected, I would definitely not be in the running, as I was sure they captured my brief moment of shock perfectly.

The red-headed girl before me appeared to be full of love when her photo was taken. For Prince Maxon? Or was she clinging onto someone else? But of course, the palace would rule out the latter, and assume her face was full of adoring for the prince. At least she looked nice in her photo, and not shocked at the glaring bulb that was projected into our eyes. Mother was chatting to someone else, with matching red hair to the loved-up girl ahead of me, but theirs was streaked with white: perhaps with age. 

The girl was stood with my mother and the other lady, lost in her own thoughts, until I stepped over to where she was.

'Hi! You've signed up for the selection too then?' I asked. I was terrible at small talk, as it was obvious she had signed up.

The red head snapped out of her thoughts and gave a small nod, muttering something that sounded like, 'Unfortunately.' 

I offered a small, unreturned smile. She seemed distant.

'I'm Quinn. Quinn Appleton.' 

I realised how one sided this conversation would be, and was about to ask mother for us to leave, when she replied, 'I'm America...Singer. America Singer.'

And she held out her hand for me to shake, a smile finding itself onto her lips.

A/n: Hello! In this chapter we meet a familiar (to those who have read The Selection) face: America. 

Also, I can imagine if I had my picture taken it would probably look like what Quinn's is described as. <3

Do you think America and Quinn will be friends?

The chapters at the moment might be a little boring, I know, but it is just setting the scene; it does get more interesting, I promise!

Thanks for reading, it would mean a lot if you commented too!