Emily In The Selection (book 1)

chapter 1

Red and blue dots fill the sky. I squint my eyes to figure out what they are until I come to the conclusion that they are balloons. Red and blue balloons float into the sky, but once they reach the clouds, they will be gone forever.

Oh, how I wish I was a balloon. They are so loyal. They put their whole life into someone's hands hoping they will not let go and release them. So in a way... They are like people.

All of a sudden it seems like my first priority is to save these balloons.
I lift my feet and swing my arms. I run and run, but there is nothing in sight for miles. I am in a open desert surrounded by nothingness, but I keep going.

Keep running, keep running I tell myself. And I do. I run until I hear myself gasping in breaths desperately and feel cramps in my side. I am about ready to give out until I stumbled into a tree.

I stare at the tree with relief and desperation, and begin climbing.
I stand on my toes and reach for the lowest branch. Once I grab it, I swing one of my legs into the middle of the stump and the other one to meet my hand. I prop myself up and keep going until I am close enough to the top.
This is where I hear wind swirling and steady my balance. This is where the balloons are spawning, and once I am close enough to reach one, I grab its string.

It is a red balloon, and it drags me upward with it. How is this balloon carrying my weight? I wonder. But it is no time for questions.

I grasp every ballon I can reach and place them in my free hand. Suddenly I am too high to grab anymore and if I don't let myself go, I will die away with the rest of the helpless balloons.

So I reach the top of the red balloon that has held me for so long and pop it with my sharp fingernail.

Why am I not falling?

Why am I still going upward?

I popped the balloon! I should be falling down with the rest!

But I am not. I am being pulled by the force of the balloons I captured and tried to save. I can not save any of the balloons now. I can only save myself. I selfishly let go of all thirteen balloons I had stored in my hand and begin falling back to the surface of earth.

The great height I was at is making me fall at a great velocity and I only feel the wind beneath me.

"No!" I scream. "No! Someone help me! Help me!"

Tears stream down my face and my lips curl. I hear myself wailing and the wind rushing. I always thought I was hideous when I cry, but I sob anyways.

I am helpless like these balloons and I am going to die. But suddenly a refreshing breath sinks into me, and I prop myself up.

I am in bed.

I sigh and drop my head into my hands, running my fingers through my long side ponytail. Tossing my blankets to the side, I stand up. I walk over to my mirror which is placed on my wall.

I am wearing gray plaid pajama pants and a pink t-shirt with a heart on it. The lights in my room are off so the heart looks almost gray when it should be blue.
Blue. Like the balloons. I immediately grab the bottom of the shirt and eagerly pull it off. I grab a purple sweatshirt and throw it on instead and roll the shirt into a ball and throw it on a chair. I walk out of my room to see my family in the kitchen.

"Hey sweetie," my mom greets me.

"Aren't you hot in that sweatshirt?"

"No, mom. I just changed... Actually" I reply.

My eyes drift from her flipping pancakes to my dad sitting at the table reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.

"Why would you change right when you wake up?" He asks me, glancing up from his paper.

"I dunno. Why would you be questioning me right when I wake up?" I ask sarcastically.

"Em." My mom said firmly suggesting me to stop.

My brother walks out from his room, which is just across the hall from mine, and rubs his face.

"Hey Emily, learn to shut up when sleep." He jabbed at me.

"What are you talking about?" I ask confused.

"You were talking in your sleep. I could hear you from my room."

"I was?"

"Yes. I thought I could even hear you crying too."

I feel my cheeks which are stained with dry tears. Was I crying in my sleep?

"Did you sleep okay, honey?" My mom asked concerned.

"Um... I just had a bad dream. That's all." I said timidly.

"What was it about?" Asked my dad.

He's always curious about everything, and sometimes it's frustrating.

I hesitated to answer at first, but I felt pressured to share. That's the thing about me... I share my feelings. All the time. To everyone. And maybe that's a good thing, but I aggravate myself thinking I can trust anyone and everyone.

"I was chasing these balloons, and i was flying with them. But when I let go of them, I was falling back to the ground, and I was going to die. I had a dream about my death."

"I'm so sorry, Em. You're okay now." My mom said while she turned off the stove and frowned at me.

While I was eating the pancakes my mom made, I realized that the red and blue balloons in my dream, must have been the same red and blue balloons that we released at my uncles funeral a few months ago.

He was a good man too... my uncle. I loved him, even though I didn't see him much. He always knew how to make me smile and always brought me some sort of little gift whenever he stopped by our house which wasn't often. But I saw more of him that my younger brother, Robbie did. I wish Robbie knew him as well as I did. Because my uncle meant a great deal to me.

I was done thinking about my uncle and just decided to join back into the conversation my parents and brother were having before I exploded into a puddle of tears.

"What do you think, Robbie?" My mom smiled at him and bent her neck to place a bite of her pancakes in her mouth.

"Well if she goes, I won't have to listen to her annoying crying when she sleeps." He answered.

"Robbie! You know you would miss her!" My dad piped up.

I assumed they were talking about the selection. Which my parents were encouraging me to sign up for. I actually wanted to go, but I knew I couldn't because my whole life was right here. Besides who knows if I'd even get selected anyways.

Only 10 people were going to get selected this time, which is less than normal. Typically 30 people get selected and only one wins. The prince, however, only wants to start with 10.

Prince Ryan is no Prince Charming. He is actually younger than me. I'm 17 and he's 16, but I believe he is turning 17 in a few months. He has blue eyes, which I find attractive but that's about it. He has brown smooth hair and a nice white smile. That's all I can really say about him. He's decent, but I can't see much to him. I'd have to though, if I were to join this selection.