Ever After . . .

Chapter 20

~America~

Another week has come and gone, and now it was Saturday. The day that Marissa took her photo. She's been up since sunrise figuring out her outfit, and what she was going to do with her hair.

I walked into her room, to find half of her closet was on her bed.

"Marissa dear what are you doing?" I ask.

"I can't find anything to wear," she says moving into view.

"Marissa, they won't care what you look like. As long as you stay true to who you are. Listen. They are going to put everyone's names from Carolina into a big bag, and draw a random name out. No one will see your photo until it is put on tv if you win. So yes look nice if you win, but don't go over the top. Please." I move to stand next to her. I spot a mint green blouse sticking out from the bottom of the pile. Pulling it out I ask her, "How about this?"

She nods her head. "I guess that'll work," she says.

"We can fix your hair up a little, maybe add a little makeup."

"Really?"

"Well not too much makeup. It's supposed to start snowing soon. It'll be cold, and your cheeks will be nice a rosy. You'll look beautiful."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. It could be worse. You could be every other girl getting their photo taken for the Selection wearing too much makeup, and being over the top." She laughs. "You get ready, and I'll make some breakfast. They aren't starting photos for about another hour. That's plenary of time to get ready."

I leave her room, and let her change. I begin to cook some eggs, and toast. I set out the orange juice, and three plates. Then I realize I haven't seen Lucas all morning. I go up to his room to see what's up.

I find him still asleep in bed. Shaking him I say, "Lucas. Lucas you need to get up. I have breakfast ready." All I get back is a moan. "Come on honey. You need to get up."

He rolls over, and moans out, "I don't feel too good mom."

"What's wrong?"

"My stomach has been tossing and turning all night. Can I just stay in bed?"

"Yeah. But sometime you'll have to get up to eat."

"I will."

"Okay. Just rest then. I'll see you later." I kiss his head and leave his room.

Going back downstairs Marissa is already eating her food. She has her blouse on, with washed out jeans, and black flats.

"Well you sure look cute," I say.

"Thanks," She says with a mouth full of eggs.

"Okay, after you're done eating I'll fix your hair."

She smiles, and we both sit and eat our breakfast.

It doesn't take long for Marissa to finish eating. I discard my food, and walk with her to the bathroom, with a chair in tow. She sits down in the chair facing the mirror. I begin on her hair.

I do a braid leading into a bun, with a few accent braids. If the Selection taught me anything, it was how to nicely do your hair. I leave some of her natural curls framing her face.

Her hair is thick, red, and curly. Just like mine. Some days it's easy to work with. Others not so much. I pull out some of my makeup, and she puts it on. She doesn't put on much, just enough to brighten her face. We move out of the bathroom, and back downstairs.

It's 10:05. Pictures have started. "Okay. Are you ready?" I ask her.

"Yes. I think so," she says nervously.

"Okay. Grab your letter, and jacket, then we'll go."

She does what I tell her. "Lucas! We're leaving! We'll be back in about an hour!" I yell up at him.

I get a small, "Okay," out of him.

We leave the house, and to the post. Girls are lined up around the block. More girls are coming too. Soon all of the eligible girls in Carolina will be here. We're lucky we got here when we did.

We stand in line, and wait. Marissa's friends are in line behind us, so it gives Marissa something to do while we wait.

It's hard to believe that I was once a teenager like this. Only I didn't have the dream of marrying the Prince of Illéa. I didn't even want to be here when I was entering.

The line continues to move up, but we are still nowhere close to the front. Just our luck it begins to snow. Only light flakes. It's only November so it won't stay long. After all it's usually warm this time of year, but snow isn't that uncommon. Bigger flakes begin to fall, and stick to anything they can. We're just getting to the front when it begins to pick up.

I can hear the photographer from inside yell, "Next!"

"Marissa. That's us," I say.

The two of us walk into the office. Nothing has changed. The camera is set up in front of a white canvas. A bench is placed in front of the canvas.

Marissa takes off her jacket and hands it to me. I don't bother to brush out the snowflakes in her hair. They add something special to it.

"Name?" The photographer asks. He sounds very unhappy. This was going to be a long day for him.

"Marissa Singer," Marissa says in a confident voice.

"Do you have your paper?"

"Yes." Marissa hands the paper over to the photographer, who then hands it off to someone else.

They fold the paper, and put it in an envelope. They put it into a bag that must be getting mailed to the palace.

I turn back to Marissa. She's sitting down on the bench. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but her smile is bright. "One, two, three," the photographer says. He snaps the photo. He doesn't waste a single second before shouting, "Next!"

I hand Marissa her jacket, and we leave the office as the next girl comes in.

"I'm going to stay here and wait for my friends to get done. I might go over to Isabel's after we're done. Is that okay?" Marissa asks when we're outside.

"That's fine. I'll see you later then," I say.

She hugs me. "Thank you."

I smile, and head towards home. A nice warm home, away from the cold November day.