The Seven(The Selection FanFic)

1

An orange bulb grew from the distance causing me to change course from home and investigate. As I edged closer I hoped it would be food. No such luck, it was merely a small ball.

I should bring it for Tyler, I thought miserably.

It's just another stupid toy for the boy, we needed food.

I continued back carelessly swinging the ball from left to right and right to left.

My dark black hair is a grave jumble of knots as it lay on my back reaching my butt. I wanted the useless thing cut soon, but my mom loves the knotty thing. My eyes are a swollen mess, usually I didn't get enough rest to keep going for the day but I still do.

Why do I live as a ruined teen scrubbing for food? I'm an Seven because my parents are Sevens. Almost the bottom of the pit.

You see, the caste system works like this: You are a number one through eight. A one is practically royalty. A eight is a homeless person scrubbing for food. I'm a seven, it can't get much worst.

My apartment building expanded as I neared the small slanted building. As I climbed the steps I reached the wooden door and pulled out the key.

I placed the metal piece in and opened the door revealing my mother cooking with our tiny pot, my father taking off his working boots and my brother with swollen eyes lying on his gamble of blankets.

"Hello, sweetheart," My father greeted giving me a weak smile.

"Hey."

As routine I placed the small amount of coins that I earn per week in the jar sitting on the kitchen counter.

"They're taking pictures for The Selection this Friday, it's your age ground, Scar," My mother stated using the shorten version of my name, Scarlett.

"Like I stand a chance, they don't even let Eights enter anymore."

"That's because they don't have any education, at least you have some."

"Very little, only 'til 8th grade."

"That doesn't matter, you'll learn, it doesn't hurt to try."

"Fine."

---

Friday came sooner then expected and my mother and I walked to the small building for a photo.

The building was crowded with mostly higher numbers like 4,3, and 2. The photographer looked at me in disgust as he quickly took the photo and motioned me away. I sighed, I knew I had no chance, but really?

All I could do was wait.

--

About a week later, our neighbor, who was a five, invited us to her house to watch the news. Today was the day teenagers all over the nation crowed their TV sets to watch thirty five people fight to get some over-rated idiot to marry them. Though, I wanted the fame and money for my family, I certainly didn't want that spoiled brat.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! The moment we have all anticipated is here! Thirty-five lovely ladies have been chooses for this selection. The opportunity of a life time! Let us all paise these girls!" The words of Gared Markson echoed the auditorium he spoke in and left shivers down my spine.

The scene went blank and the face of beautiful women were displayed, in the corner their first name and caste where written in cursive, something that I didn't fully understand. To my great benefit, Gared called the names and castes out as well.

The moment I looked away I heard my first name spell out of Gared's mouth and looked shocked at my face on the screen and then: "Seven."

The surprise in Gared's voice was inevitable. The world around me slowed and I stared at the screen as my parents gasped, cried out, hugged me, and kissed me. I just stared.

This isn't real.

"Oh my god," My mom's voice sang and then I passed out.

"Honey, wake up," my mother's voice cooed.

"Hmm."

I sat up and looked around me and then everything struck me hard.

I was picked.

My mom smiled and said, "Isn't this wonderful, honey. Your going to the palace tomorrow!"

When I didn't respond my mother said softy in a concerned voice, "Scar?"

"I'm sorry," I said rubbing my head, "it's just too much."

Rubbing my back my mom said, "I understand."