Something Else - a Selection Fanfiction

three

THE NEXT DAYS ARE A FLURRY OF ACTIVITY, not that I mind. The more bodies between me and mom, the better. She is always observing from afar, the same disapproving - no, it's more disgusted now - expression radiating off of her. She hates people who are disloyal, and in her eyes, I'm the biggest traitor of them all. But I can hardly care. Soon, I'll be able to become a teacher. 

I just need to get through the Selection first. 

As the days go by, more and more people from the palace visit. A tailor comes to take my measurements for the extravagant dresses that I'll soon be wearing, a palace guard discusses security measures for my family, and a nutritionist comes and harasses me into taking dietary supplements. Mom sits through all these meetings, a closed-off look on her face. Her mask only breaks when she's handed a check from the palace (all Selected are compensated weekly). I know from her delight that the money is much more than she expected it to be.

I try to smile at her, but by the time I do, her face is back to being impassively aggressive.

&

On the morning of the Selection, Claire wakes me up by bouncing on my bed repeatedly. Even though I'm not so happy about being woken up, her enthusiasm motivates me enough to get out of bed and start preparing for the long day ahead of me. I put on my black pants and white blouse - the uniform for all the Selected - plus Clermont's flower, a daisy, in my hair. We are allowed to pick our own shoes, so I decide on a pair of worn out sneakers which will be good for traveling in. As I'm tying my laces, there's a knock on my door. 

"Who is it?" I call, confused. I thought only Claire was seeing me off. 

"It's your mother." 

Sighing, I open the door for her, expecting to be chewed out one more time. But the look on her face suggests something else. 

My mom has always been beautiful. She moved from New Asia when she was seventeen to marry my father, who had been a soldier for Illea at the time. I get my dark eyes from her, as well as my size. She's 5"4, and I'm 5"6. My auburn hair I get from my dad. When I was little, I'd look at some of the old photo albums she took with her. She was smiling in all the photos and had no wrinkles. 

Now, she rarely smiles. My dad died and a legal hiccup meant that we were downgraded to the fifth caste - what my dad had been before he was drafted - instead of staying Twos. I was so young that I barely remembered being rich and comfortable, but my mother still has a clear vision of it. It made the transition even harder. 

"Anna," she says, avoiding my eyes. 

"Yes?" I glance at the time. I have five minutes before I need to leave. Oh, well. I guess I won't be eating breakfast today. 

"You're really going," my mother states. And then her eyes get watery. 

"We've been through this, Mom. I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Being drafted is legally binding." 

Instead of responding, she hugs me. And when she lets go, she whispers, "Stay safe," and then she leaves. 

My mother never was one for words. But going into the Selection knowing that she kind of approves makes it a million times better. 

&

We hear the crowds in the town square before we see them. Claire jumps up and down in the limo seat next to me, feeding off of their energy. I close my eyes and picture life as a Three. The image gets me through the long ceremony, the mayor's condescension, and the national anthem. It helps me space out during the long drive to the airport. 

I snap out of it when I get to the terminal. There should be three other girls meeting me here - one from Carolina, one from Kent, and one from Allens. I don't want to give them any ammunition to judge me with. 

I'm early (as usual) so I sit down in one of the seats to wait. Soon, I hear the click-clack of heels and watch as a tall blonde girl rounds the corner. Her blue eyes latch onto mine, and I stand up to greet her. 

"Anna Grace from Clermont?" she asks, her button nose slightly wrinkled. 

"And you are?" I say, trying to retain my composure.

She takes a while to respond, not because she can't answer my question, but because she's looking for someone better to meet. When she sees no one else, she says, "Drew Rogues from Carolina." 

I roll my eyes inwardly and chastise myself for expecting anyone kind in this competition. When I refocus on the space where Drew was, she's gone. Looking around, I see her greeting another girl, this one with dark skin and brown hair and equally as beautiful, enthusiastically. 

Sighing, I return to my seat and wait to board. Just when I'm about to fall asleep, I see another Selected walk in. She does a sweep of the room - taking in Drew and the other girl talking and me sitting alone in my chair - and waves at me. Somehow, that action makes me feel calmer. I wave back and stand up again. 

"Hi, I'm Anna from Clermont," I say once she's close enough. 

She nods in recognition. "I remember your picture. I'm Valerie from Allens." Her voice sounds different somehow.  It takes me a moment to figure out that she has a slight French accent. 

"Are you from France?" I ask, uncertain of what else to say. 

"Kind of. I was born in Allens but my family moved away when I was three months old. French is my first language," she explains. "Does it show?" 

She looks so worried that I say immediately, "Not in a bad way." 

She visibly relaxes. "What's your story?" 

I shrug. "There isn't really one. My mom moved from New Asia to Illea with my dad, and we've been here ever since." 

"Your dad's a soldier?" she asks. 

"He was a soldier, yes. He died in a rebel uprising when I was five." 

"I'm so sorry," she says, and she sounds genuine. 

Maybe this won't be so bad after all. 

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