just fall | ✓

2.

After finding out that I had willingly filled out the papers, Tiffany had insisted on primping me for the photographs. I had removed the makeup and returned the dress and heels as soon as it was finished. I hoped that I wasn't chosen, no matter how good the money was.

Life went on for a little while as normal. In fact, I'd forgotten about the Selection completely until Tiffany strutted into my work.

Seeing lanky, glamorous Tiffany strutting through the cramped, oil-smeared garage where I worked was quite the sight. Everyone paused their work to watch her pass. When she stopped at my station, several sets of eyes focused on us. She smiled brightly at me like it was completely normal for a Two in bright fuchsia heels to casually meander into a garage that smelled of rotting garbage, expired oil, and sweat. I raised an eyebrow at her. "Hi?"

"Hello. Did you watch the Report last night?"

"No," I said. "I was working."

She smiled triumphantly. "I thought so," she said. "Well, I won't spoil the surprise for you too much, but I will say that you're staying with Marcus and I for the next two or three weeks."

I stood up slowly, my joints and muscles protesting. Her heels made her an inch or so taller than me. "Why?"

"I'll explain when you come home." She winked at me and then turned and left, ponytail swishing behind her.

From the station across the aisle, a woman called Marine and her granddaughter, Shayla, both shot me confused looks. Shayla raised an eyebrow at me, arms folded over her chest. I shrugged at her and knelt back down, grabbing my wrench. Her look said it all: this better not interfere with our job.

☼

It happened to be that this thing did, in fact, interfere with our job. I'd suspected it would when one of the Sixes that worked for Tiffany sat a small chocolate cake in front of me after we had finished our dinner. I raised an eyebrow at my mother, Tiffany, and Marcus. "Chocolate cake? What's the occasion?" It wasn't uncommon for a Two to eat chocolate, but it was uncommon for one to waste it on someone below a Two.

My mother smiled nervously at Tiffany. It was Marcus that slid the envelope across the table to me. "We received a phone call today and this. Both were for you."

Sure enough, my name was written in thick, curving letters above Tiffany and Marcus's address. It was the same thick paper that had hidden my application for the Selection. Dread filled me as I pried it open with my nail.

It was worse than I had expected--an acceptance. I had been chosen to be a Selected. Me.

At a time that most girls would have burst into tears of joy, I burst into hysterical, borderline-psychotic laughter. I set the letter on the table and laughed, even with Tiffany and Marcus staring at me in confusion, even with my mother looking at me as though she'd expected this response and had hoped that it would be different. I wiped the tears from my eyes and said, "That was a good joke, but really, what's going on?"

"It isn't a joke, Cassiana." My mother sighed, glancing between myself and Tiffany. "They'll be here next week to prepare you for Angeles. We've notified your employer."

"We need that money—"

"—you can't be covered in oil when the people from the Palace come—"

"—but what about my job, Mom? You know, the one that I fought hard for?" I cocked an eyebrow at her. "What about that? I can't just leave everyone—"

"They'll have to survive without you," my mother said firmly. "You applied and you were chosen, Cassiana. Now you need to go through with this."

I let out an angry huff, thinking again of the dollar amount on the applicantion. "Fine. But only for the money."