The Selected | ✓

Chapter 4

Truthfully, the next week literally passes in a blur. The only thing I really remember is some man telling me that I should do whatever the princes ask—whether it's illegal or not. I know what he means, and just thinking about it leaves a bitter, nasty taste in my mouth.

A boy that I met once while posing to be a Six, a boy named Colton, came by to visit. He's my age, tall with dark hair and eyes and skin. He grins at me. "You all ready for the fancy life, kid?" Funny how he's only months older than me and he calls me that.

"Not really. Did you know that I shouldn't turn the princes down no matter what?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to let them...you know...do you?"

I rolled my eyes, putting a hand on my hip. "Do I look like I'd let them?"

He laughed. "Oh, they'll have their hands full with you alone. I don't know how the poor guys'll manage if they're all like you."

He left after that.

The next morning, I pulled on the Selected uniform- black pants, white button-down shirt, and my providence flower, which is a violet American Pasque. My mother pins it into my hair, which is tied back in a ponytail. A small bit falls from where it's tucked behind my ear, falling in front of my eye. I leave it there.

My goodbyes are quick. Other than several girls glaring at me, and a few young girls giggling and whispering about me, no one gives me any other reaction than cheers. I'm the only Eight in the competition.

My mother, Tiffany, and Markus say goodbye to me. Markus's hands rest too low when he gives me a hug—I told my mother that he's a freaking pedophile, which she just laughed off and said that she knows, and that she only brought me to them because she trusts Tiffany.

My mother hugs me once more. "I love you so much, sweetheart. I'll love you even if you don't become an Elite or a One, even if you're only there for a week. Okay?"

I smile, feeling close to tears. "Of course, Mom. I love you too." She kisses my forehead and then I'm lead away. I don't allow myself so much as a glance back.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I'm the second one to the airport. The other girl is Aquia Dashnell of Sonage. She's a pretty girl, with long strawberry-blonde hair, porcelain skin, and light blue eyes. There's a small smattering of freckles across her cheeks.

She smiles up at me. "Hi." She says quietly. She has a small bag next to her feet. I have nothing.

The next two are Celine from Columbia and Tania from Sota. They're both Threes, but they smile, shake hands, and eventually hug me. Aquia is shy, but when we get on the plane she and I don't stop talking. Aquia is short and fragile-looking, but she has quite the temper.

When we land, everything is silent. But then the doors open, and I can barely hear myself think. People scream and call out names, though mostly for Tania, Celine, and Aquia. I hear a little girl's voice call, "Cass-si-an-a! Cass-si-an-a!" Again and again.

I see her sitting in the front, one front tooth missing. She grins up at me.

I crouch down near her and smile. "Hi." I say.

She beams. "Hi. I'm Sara." Her 's' makes a whistling sound.

"Well hello, Sara. I'm Cassiana."

She giggles. "I know. You're really pretty."

I feel my cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. You're very pretty too. You'll need your own set of guards when you get older, so many boys will want you!"

She giggles again and makes a face. "Boys are icky."

I nod. "That they are."

"Cassiana!" Tania calls. She motions for me to come on. The other girls had stopped for a few pictures and conversations, but they're already at the other end.

I sigh and turn back to Sara. "I hope you're the princess!" she says.

I smile and pat the top of her head. "Thank you. Goodbye, Sara."

"Bye!" She jumps up and down as I get up and start walking down the gold carpet.

I talk to three more little girls and two boys before exiting. They all wanted autographs—which I gave them—and several people wanted a hug or to talk. Celine scoffs and rolls her eyes when I get into the car.

I think about the little kids and all the people that I just saw. I also think about my mother. I can only hope that she'd be proud of my performance, or whatever you'd call it.