If there was a competition to win the prince's heart and become the queen wold you enter? it seems like a simple answer, but not for Emily.
Emily is a six, which means she has been looked down upon and shunned by society for her whole life. her mot...
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Ok, let me start off by saying no. I have said this over a million times since that damn letter slid its way through the postbox and into my life. No. No. No. And no. Why doesn't anyone understand what that simple two letter word means. I refuse and if anyone makes me I might actually die of the betrayal. "Sooo... what your saying is you'll think about it" my mother hopefully smiles at me. "No" I grunt. "Come on Emily you know that we want this" she tries to reason. "No you want this". So as you have probably guessed I'm Emily, the girl who is currently single handily 'ruining this family'. I just don't understand how one form can change everything for the better. It won't change the fact that we barely have enough to eat or that we're one of the lower castes. Nothing can change that. It's like a warning tattooed across every inch of our bodies. Twos won't come near us and seven envy us. You only fit into your caste. And for me that's a simple number. 6. This number is reserved for waiters and maids. I don't particularly like my label but I am more privileged than others. Nothing as simple as a letter can fix any of this. "But you never know you could even win" my mum sighs in delight over a completely impossible future. "I wouldn't even be chosen over all of the twos" I try to make her see my point but fail miserably. "Nonsense, just promise me you will think about it". I haven't seen her eyes so full of pride ever. So, even if it kills me I nod. "Your going to enter! It's so unfair" my little sister Poppy complains in the most adorable way possible. She storms out and her blonde piggy tails bounce behind her.
What have I gotten myself into?
Deciding to end this argument before it even fully starts, I trudge towards my room. Well, not really my room (I share a room with Poppy) but who really cares. Slumping down on the slightly uncomfortable bed, I go through the past hour and ask myself 'how on earth did I end up half agreeing to do it?'.
The whole argument stemmed from the moment I opened the stupid letter. The one that held the admission form to enter me in the competition of the century. You may ask why would you give up such a good opportunity? And the short answer is because the prize is a boy. Yes you read right a boy, who I'm pretty sure only cares about his look and needs no help gaining female attention. But how would I know this? Simple, because this boy is the prince. Wow I know right so amazing (note the sarcasm).
So here is my dilemma, enter this silly little competition and maybe get chosen; everyone selected gets money sent home for participating, so that will solve our money problems for a little while. Or I can be the worst daughter ever and disappoint everyone. Although the answer seems simple it's not. Trust me.
Choosing to sleep upon this impending decision, I try to relax and get some rest. After a while I come to the conclusion that this is not going to get any sleep.
