Which One

Lanee

I always knew that I could get in. Heaven knows I'm pretty enough. The Selection is a big thing, something I have been preparing for my whole life.  As a Two, I am expected to be beautiful, proper, and well brought up.
I exceed those expectations and more. The "perfect" Two.

I am an actress, a very good one at that. Known for my directness, personality, and for telling things how they are, lower castes see me as obnoxious and rude. I admit it, I can be at times, but that's just how I am. People either immediately hate me or love me, the latter more often.

***

It's time to go. I can't believe it! I am actually going to compete against 35 other girls for the crown of Illéa. I've heard about the palace all my life and have been brought up to believe that I would someday get there. And I have. The feeling of success makes me feel giddy as I sit on the plane, waiting for the three other girls to arrive.

Punctuality, my mother has always taught me is a characteristic of a queen. If you look like one and act like one, you will become one.

The first two girls arrive about a minute later, chatting with each other as if they have been friends their whole life. Maybe they have.

"Hello! You're Delaney Rosenberg, right?" Exclaims a pretty brunette with soft grey eyes when she sees me. "I'm Holly." She holds out her hand and I shake it with a polite smile.

"I know." I remember her vaguely. Holly Drewer, a Three.

The other girl is also a Three; a tall, slim girl with light brown hair and brown eyes. I can only remember her caste number, not her name.

"This is Beth," says Holly as she sits down across from me. The other girl looks out the window. I don't care that she's ignoring me; I'm not here to make friends.

Another girl enters the plane, and I can't help thinking, Wow, she's beautiful. And she is. But I'm not one to admit that.

The girl has curly golden blonde hair surrounding her oval shaped face and making her hazel eyes look round and innocent-looking. I know she's anything but. Caitlyn Verdette is about as innocent as me.

"You look like a clown with that makeup," I say, looking her up and down.

"You look like you're wearing a blond Raggedy Ann wig that someone threw out two century's ago." Caitlyn retorts back.

"I try." I smirk and lean back in my seat.

She flashes me a bright white grin and sits beside me, "Delaney, right?"

"Lanee." I correct her, "Nice to meet you, fellow Two."

"When I win, I'll let you wash my clothes." Caitlyn suggests.

"Ha. Not a chance. You'll be washing mine."