Dear Elise

Chapter 18

Janelle was eliminated.
I was a bit behind on the news, since I was so busy yesterday, but it only takes until the next evening for the elimination to be upstaged by fresh events and gossip.
"Ladies, I have an announcement." Prince Maxon's voice cuts through the hall, about halfway through dinner. He then proceeds to explain that Twos and Threes would not receive any more money as part of the Selection. As a Four, I still would, but...
I glance at Sam, who looks unbothered. I wonder if she wanted the money at all and is just hiding her disappointment, or truly doesn't mind much. She doesn't seem to mind hard work and getting messy, so I'd guess money doesn't bother her much. I smile, thinking of how she looked covered in flour.
How did she look so much better in that simple shirt than her intricate dinner gown?

I manage to catch her on her way to the women's room. "Sam, did you hear what Prince Maxon said?"
She shrugs. "Yeah. But I'm sure he has a reason for it, so I don't mind much. I trust that he's a genuinely good guy, or at least I don't have any reason to believe he's not."
Well, she does have a point.
"Anyway, what does your dress for the Report look like? Though I'm sure you'll look the best in the room no matter what it's like." She grins as she says it, as if she knows about the elaborate backflips my heart is performing in response to her statement.
She probably does.
My dress is blue, like all the others. Beatrice was questioning why I didn't want to stand out, but Sara knows that all I want is to stay and be as inconspicuous as possible.
Florence didn't even comment, which confused me. Could she... know?

Though I do want to fit in, I didn't quite anticipate how much the other girls were planning to copy Lady America. All they're doing is making it obvious how jealous they are of her, and she makes them look like idiots when she steps out in that bold red dress.
Of course, that's easy for me to say.
Because as she steps out of the sea of blue that is the Report set that evening, I couldn't care less about Lady America's showstopping dress.
I stay sat down, smoothing out my skirt and hoping she'll approach me.
Hoping she'll think I'm pretty tonight.
Because though to everyone else, the jewelry sparkling like stars, resting on my chest and hanging from my ears might look like it's for Prince Maxon, it's not him I want to notice them.

And she does. Looking over at me, and sending me a wink. I smile at her, hoping I don't look as dopey as I feel, as I adjust my necklace.
She walks over and leans down to whisper something in my ear, and for a moment I relish in the feeling of her warm breath on my neck.
But then I pull away, realising how public this is.
"Sam- stop. Not here, not- this looks suspicious." She doesn't respond for a moment, but a slight frown appears on her face. I can't stand to see her like that, but the very idea of anyone seeing me that close to anyone, especially a girl, makes me uncomfortable.
"Okay. I'm sorry, I'll... try my best to act normal."
Even the hint of disappointment I can see on her face makes me wish I hadn't said anything.

Sam stays true to her word, even dropping in a few comments about Prince Maxon every now and then when talking to the other girls. When Gavril talks to us, we are model Selection candidates, praising the food and clothes and describing the Prince in the most flattering ways we can think of. But I see the look in her eyes, hear the way she words her sentences.

'I've met some amazing people here at the Palace.'

'I hope I stay here for as long as possible.'

'I have lots of hopes for the future.'

Is it self-centered to think she might be talking about me?

The Report may have gone well, but when I get back to my room I know it's time. My maids aren't there yet. No distractions, no excuses.
I take a deep breath, and open the letter from my family.
It's my mother's writing. I can tell as soon as I open it, the sloping, neat, letters almost making me homesick. The first half of the letter does make me miss the familiarity of home and I almost regret being away for so long. I do miss my brothers, though we haven't been close in years. I guess I miss how we used to be.
But the second half feels like a stab to the heart. All about how close I am with Prince Maxon, and am I doing well? Does he like me?
It only reminds me of the situation I'm in, because as much as I want to ignore it, my family will never accept anything less than me winning. Marrying Prince Maxon is something I definitely can't do, not with this... whatever it is I have with Sam. And as much as I wish it weren't true, my family would never accept Sam.
The truth hits me like a brick.

I always knew this, but desperation is starting to rise. I'm stuck. What do I do?
An unfamiliar feeling makes me stop.
Determination. Born from the very desperation I feared and put off until now.
I walk over to the small fireplace, taking a deep breath. I know this isn't their fault, but I have to keep my family out of this. Their words represent something much bigger.
Kneeling down beside it, I look around until I find a small pot of matches and pull one out. I light it.
The flame flickers before my eyes, but I'm not afraid anymore.
I hold it to the edge of the page until my letter starts to catch, and drop it onto the stone bottom of the fireplace.
The fire consumes it hungrily, eating words, gulping up the sentences that seemed so prominent and are now so powerless in the face of my newfound emotions.
I think of Sam's disappointed face when I pushed her away earlier.
Half the letter is gone.
The way she winked at me before.
Only a sentence is left.
How she looked at me during her interview, and how gorgeous she looked illuminated by the lights of the cameras.

The last few words disappear as my tiny fire dies down. The charred remains of the letter curl in on themselves as I watch, gripping the now put out match.
I will not let myself be pushed around anymore.
I want Sam.
Sam wants me.
Nobody else gets a say.

I stand up, letting the match drop from my fingers.
The fire may be gone from my fireplace, but I can still feel the warmth of the newly kindled one burning in my heart.