Fun in France- a Selection Story

Chapter Four- Maxon's POV

Again, I've been MIA for a while, stuck in rural Yorkshire and overloaded with revision and exams. Since my apologies aren't enough, here is a super long chapter, full of Maxerica, just for you, my lovelies.

America took a deep breath, turned to face the camera, and smiled. I hoped she would use the card I'd provided, since it was all Father-appropriate. She glanced down at it, and began.

"Good evening Illéa. Last week, as you may remember, I suggested eliminating the castes for my philanthropy project. However, in the seven days since, I have reflected on the severity of my rash actions, and for perhaps giving some of you false hope. What I said could have had me eliminated, but Prince Maxon chose to let me stay, and to use this unlikely second chance to continue with my stupid speech would ruin that, and I would be thrown out anyway. Instead, I have modified my project, so... Here goes.

"I was born a Five. Many a time my family were hungry, poor, scraping crumbs of the table. When I was Selected, the checks given helped us so much even though it was so little. When I came here, the opulent food and expensive things I had made me much more grateful for it. Being at the bottom my entire life, I had never imagined items so rich, and then when I was given them, I was so much more grateful. 

"One of my good friends, Aspen Leger was a Six." Hmm. I didn't remember this part. Hopefully America knew what she was doing... "Now, he is a guard here, a Two. He has comfy clothes rather than worn-put ones, hanging together by threads. He has a hot shower, instead of a quick bathe in the river. He has proper food, not the few scraps he was given but always handed to his many siblings and widowed mother. Had he been born an upper caste, Aspen wouldn't have appreciated these little things. Being a Six helped him be thankful for the small mercies God gave him.

"Perhaps the point I'm trying to make is this." Ah, now we were back to what if written. When we'd first met Officer Leger, I had no idea they were so close. It makes more sense now. They were good friends back home in Carolina, bound together by their hardships in life. Maybe the golden button she used to wear but now accompanied the penny in that jar was from him, a token of their friendship. The penny too. Insignificant to me, but precious to a Six or Seven or Eight, who needed every last coin.

"Being a lower caste is hard. From Four downwards it's a constant struggle. Starvation, poverty, bankruptcy, loss, heartbreak... It's tough. But is it that bad? When we are handed minor things, they seem so much more special to us. Payday is better, that feeling of having money for your own. Look at the upper castes. Wealth- have they really earned it? Maybe we don't have much, but we work for it. Taking away the castes... It would ruin that sacredness, not to mention peace. And it would give the rebels what they want. So to eliminate the castes would be like rewarding the bullies. No. I will not stand for it, and hopefully you won't either.

"Thank you Illéa, and goodnight."

America looked down at her hands as a short silence followed the end of her speech. Then the applause started, first Gavril and I, then my parents and the Elite, the advisors, the camera crew, the help standing around offset. All clapping for my America. My beautiful, inspirational, perfect, non-perfect America. Who was currently smiling bashfully and trying to hide in me. I wrapped both arms around her, and kissed the top of her red head. 

Father could not argue, that was a wonderful speech.

Even if I had written it myself.

***

At regular intervals along the hallway were guards, standing to attention. None of them were Officer Leger- of course, I realised. That was why America had wanted him to come to France with us. Well, he did look good with Lucy.