A Slightly Different Selection

Chapter One

Five. The number that has described me all of my life. I was thankful that when my parents were young, they'd managed to buy up a caste. Now, I couldn't imagine doing a servant's work.
We hadn't gone hungry since I was about 10, when my parents insisted that I started using my musical talents to the family's benefit. Now, my dad, my sister Allison, and I were booked almost everyday. My mother, my other sister Gemma were artists, so we had a pretty steady income. Erik hadn't decided what he wanted to do yet, which was causing a lot of stress because he was thirteen.
As Fives, there's really not a such thing as not wanting more. We didn't go completely hungry, but we still wanted more. We always had power and heat, but just enough to live on.

I never really thought about the prince in a romantic way. Sure, he was cute, but at a pretty young age I realized that I would never have a chance. That is, until I received a letter in the mail saying that The Selection was coming. I had only ever heard stories from my mother of how exciting it was. She had been a year too old to enter, and she'd snagged my father at some point and had me, then Gemma and Erik, and finally Allison. And somehow, they were still madly in love, like new romantics.

"Alex, you have to enter!" Gemma exclaimed, a little too excited about the whole thing.
"I don't know if I will. You guys need me here." I said, trying not to give off that I was hesitant.

"There's no hurt in entering. If you don't get picked, you don't get picked." Mom encouraged. "Of course, you already have the beauty and grace of a princess, so I wouldn't be surprised if you did."
"He looks too stiff." Little Allison commented. "Like a robot!"
"Pft, that's only a mask. I bet he's the most interesting person in the whole world! He sure is the cutest I've ever seen." Gemma replied.
"What do you think, Dad?" I asked, still trying to stall.
"It's your decision, pumpkin." He answered. "But your mother's right: it won't hurt to enter."
I faked an exasperated sign. "I guess you're right. I'll fill out the paperwork later."
"Yay!" Gemma cheered, clapping excitedly.
"Erik, you're quiet." I commented looking at Gemma's twin, my little brother.
He shrugged. "Love is gross."
We laughed at the 13-year-old's comment and Allison and Gemma went to play with Erik out in the yard. Mom, Dad, and I all cleaned the kitchen, a happy energy flowing throughout the room.

That night, we all sat in our small living room while I filled out the forms. My name, age, caste, and contact information were filled out pretty simply, and then came the more detailed information. My height: 5'6, my weight: 111 lbs, my eye color: blue, and my skin color: white. Under languages, I wrote English, French, and Italian. Since I was mostly Italian, my mom insisted I learn our native language, and I was proud to write it on my application. Under special skills I wrote singing, guitar, piano, and violin.

It only took a few minutes for me to fill out the application, and when I was done I handed the extremely high-quality papers to my mother.
"Excellent! We can take these to the Public Services Office tomorrow." She told me. "Oh, I forgot to tell you this earlier. Your Aunt Shelly entered King Clarkson's Selection." She said, pausing to let it soak in. "Apparently, they take your picture, so look your best tomorrow."
"No pressure though." I said, retreating to my room. Two weeks was all I had, and then the Selected would be announced on the Illéa Capital Report. I didn't know if I was more excited or nervous. Both Gemma and Allison were right: yes, he did seem a little stiff, but it probably just a mask, like Gemma said. And yes, he was devastatingly handsome.

I barely slept that night, thinking of what to wear or imagining what it would be like if I was picked to marry Maxon. I decided I wouldn't be a very good princess. I can barely control Allison, Gemma, and Erik, how am I supposed to control an entire country?

Mom and I woke up early the next morning, hoping to beat the essential wave of other entrants. But, according to the line, the entire province of Columbia was thinking the same thing. I almost considered going home and coming back later, but Mom insisted that it was fine. I had worn my best dress, given to my by a family of Twos who were a regular customer of mine. It was a thin strapped, knee-length light blue fabric, tiny pink and yellow flowers scattered across the soft cotton. In line, she found a few of her friends waiting with their daughters.
"Alexandra, you look lovely today. You look ready for the palace already!" Mrs. Antoine, our neighbor, complemented me, a hint of jealousy in her voice.
"Thank you." I replied, blushing. I had braided my hair loosely over my shoulder, leaving a few strands out on purpose. It was the artist blood in me that made me good with these things.
"Well, I suppose by now that you've heard it's not as much of a lottery as the palace wants us to believe." My mom told her.
"No, I haven't. What do you mean?" She asked, confused.
"Apparently, they take your picture. Why would they need to know how many languages you spoke if it was a random drawing?" My mom explained.
"That had struck me as a little odd." Mrs. Antoine replied. "Adalaide!" She searched the crowd for her daughter, probably telling her to go home and change. Luckily, we didn't live far from the Services Office.

It was only a bit longer until my turn. I sat on the stool, beaming as genuinely as I could. I wish I'd gotten to see the picture, but I was sure it didn't matter. I was a Five, and if it wasn't a lottery, the Selected would be mostly Twos and Threes.

We got home around lunchtime, so I made some small sandwiches for Gemma, Erik, and Allison.
"Can I have another one?" Allison asked innocently, and it hurt me to say no.
"I'm sorry Allie, but we don't have enough for more." I answered.
"Did you get a sandwich Alex?" Gemma asked me.
"Umm, yeah..." I lied.
"Here have a bite of mine." She said, extending her arm to offer me her sandwich.
"No, Gem, you need it more than I do." I told her, standing up from the table to find Mom. I walked around a bit before finding her in the studio.
"Hey Mom." I said, pulling over a stool to sit next to her.
"Hi sweetie." She replied, setting down her brush for a second. "Is something bothering you?"
"I just... What if I get selected? I don't think I like the prince." I told her, sighing.
"What do you mean?" She asked, confused.
"I mean, he's a very attractive guy, but I don't know if I could ever have feelings for him." I explained.
"Listen closely, sweetie. The Selection is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Many girls are very upset now because they are too young. There are going to be girls there for two different reasons. One, for Maxon. Two, for the crown. The second Prince Maxon eliminates one of the girls, some very weathly, important public figure is going to sweep them up. I watched it happen when I was younger. At the time, your aunt told me the very same thing you just said. I didn't know what to say back then, but I do now. Love comes about in the strangest ways. It could be because he reminds you of your family, or because he reminds you of yourself. You might be afraid of the stiffness of what you see on TV, or of being the queen and ruling over the entire country. But I promise you, as soon as you step foot into that palace, you'll fall in love with something. For some, it's the prince. For others, it's the food, or another contestant's friendship, but there'll be something worth staying for. I can promise you that." She assured me.
"Thanks Mom." I said, and for a while, we were silent. Just sitting there, thinking about what she said.
"No matter what happens, honey, you need to know that your father and I are extremely proud of you. And I garantee that your siblings are, too." She told me. "You better go practice with your father and Allison." Mom suggested, and I nodded before leaving the small studio.