Chosen (The Selection fanfiction)

Three.

My very first step into the palace was met with a flurry of excitement with stylists and maids picking off the girls from around me as they were whizzed away through these magnificent white doors that swung as a reaction to the orderly chaos (a bit oxymoronic but that was the best way my mind could describe what I saw before me) allowing me to catch a glimpse of what awaited me.

As I manoeuvered my way through the sea of competitors the scene soon became clear. Rows upon rows of vanity tables lined the edges of the room and I found myself to not be the only confused face in the room- surely we had already gotten ready before we arrived, so why were we getting ready again?

I sat myself down at one of the available tables not wishing to draw attention to myself by remaining stood up and eyed the neatly pilled makeup displayed on the marble worktop. I had never before been permitted to use London's makeup at home- not that I'd have wanted to- but seeing it all here before me I was beginning to see the appeal of hiding behind a mask and if I looked good on the outside who would believe I was struggling to breathe on the inside?

Cut away from my thoughts my attention drew to the two women suddenly surrounding me, smiles plastered on their faces. One of them reached for the comb and immediately began running it through my blonde curls causing me to cringe as it met with the knots that always formed within two hours of brushing it.

"Are we thinking of a dye job or a cut, Lady Paris?" She asked as the other girl began filing my finger nails.

Completely clueless to what I wanted, or if I even wanted anything at all I simply replied with, "I'm not entirely sure to be honest, what do you suggest?"

"Ooh what about green?" The shorter girl piped up excitement evident in her features as she looked up from my right hand.

I did not share that excitement.

"Um, maybe not green, but it could do with a cut," I answered stifling the laughter that had surfaced from the odd suggestion.

With that, the girls got to work trimming my hair and applying minimal makeup to my face (a plead on behalf as I was not keen to stick out like a sore thumb). Each strand of hair that fell to the ground made me think about that one time I slipped and cut a chunk out of London's hair. If it wasn't for my ability to run fast I would've been murdered that day. I shuddered at the thought.

-

We were escorted to our rooms following dinner and were informed that we would not meet the prince until the next morning. My room was situated between two other girls but everything was so pristine and white that it would be verging near impossible to decipher which room was mine when I would not be escorted to it.

"Goodnight, Evie, I hope you sleep well," I called out as I saw the girl to my right opening the door to her room. She smiled in return and mumbled back a 'goodnight' before disappearing behind the door. I could understand her hesitance, we were technically competing but I was determined to clean up the prejudice that surrounded Twos by being nice to those around me.

King Maxon and Queen America had set out to destroy the caste system but they were working from the bottom and it had taken longer than expected. Regulations were not as strict as they used to be, from what my parents tell me, but we were still branded by a number.

Finally, I pushed down on the golden handles opening the door to my room to immediately be greeted by three young girls dressed in simple but smart uniforms who immediately felt compelled to introduce themselves as Jess, Shana and Lyssa. My head was buzzing at their quickness and made a mental note to myself to attempt to learn their names quickly; I was not the best at learning names.

"Do you need any help?" One of them, Lyssa I think, asked politely.

"Of course she needs help, we need to get her ready for bed," Shana exclaimed looking at Lyssa as if she was stupid.

"Yeah and we need to make her bed ready for night," Jess concluded coming towards me.

"No, no. That's fine, I can do it myself," I answered backing up into a bedside table knocking something to the ground, "I'm so sorry, uh, I just-"

"That's fine miss we'll clear it up and-"

"No! I'm sorry I need to go." I rushed out of the room pushing past them and into the corridor. I ran in some random direction hoping to be anywhere but here. Memories flooded my brain of the time my father beat me for accidentally knocking over his glass watch. I was dancing and it was just sitting on the side. I crashed into the table causing the watch to smash into a million pieces. Why can you not be like the rest of us, he would ask over and over as his hand would come into contact with cheek over and over. I never had an answer.

Helplessly running down corridor after corridor I found myself walking past a small room with a tiny record player in the corner. There was something about the mirrors lined up on every wall intrigued me. I approached the room realising that it was a dance studio tucked away in a corner of the palace.

Dancing had always calmed me down so I lightly spun the record creating a soft quiet sound and began to move my feet. I spun and lifted my leg high in the air to the beat of the song.

A couple of songs had played before I realised I wasn't alone. Someone was watching me from the doorway.

"Nice moves."