The Selection (The Selection #1)(26)
“The others from the Mideast were just as popular. Ashley Brouillette’s quiet, refined demeanor sets her apart immediately as a lady. As she carries herself through the crowd, she wears a humble, beautiful expression not too different from the face of the queen herself.”
“And Marlee Tames of Kent was all bubbles as she departed today, singing the national anthem with her send-off band.” Pictures of Marlee smiling and embracing people from her home province flashed across the screen. “She’s an immediate favorite of several people we interviewed today.”
Marlee reached over and squeezed my hand. That settled it; I was pulling for Marlee.
“Also traveling with Miss Tames was America Singer, one of only three Fives who made it into the Selection.” They made me look better than I felt in the moment. All I remembered was searching the crowds, sad. But the footage they chose of me searching made me appear mature and caring. The image of me hugging my father was touching, beautiful.
Still, it was nothing compared to the images of me in the airport. “But we know castes mean nothing in the Selection, and it seems Lady America is not to be overlooked. Upon landing in Angeles, Lady Singer was the crowd darling at the airport, stopping to take pictures, sign autographs, and simply speak to anyone there. Miss America Singer is not afraid to get her hands dirty, a quality that many believe our next princess needs.”
Nearly everyone turned to look at me. I could see it in their eyes, the same look I’d gotten from Emmica and Samantha. Suddenly those stares made sense. My intentions didn’t matter. They didn’t know I didn’t want this. In their eyes, I was a threat. And I could see they wanted me gone.
CHAPTER 10
I KEPT MY HEAD DOWN at dinner. In the Women’s Room I could be brave because Marlee was beside me, and she just thought I was nice. But here, sandwiched between people whose hate I could feel radiating off in waves, I was a coward. I looked up from my plate once to see Kriss Ambers twirling her fork menacingly. And Ashley, who was so ladylike, had her lips pouted and didn’t speak to me. I just wanted to escape to my room.
I didn’t understand why it was all so important. So the people seemed to like me, so what? They were outranked in here; their little signs and cheers didn’t matter.
After everything was said and done, I didn’t know whether to feel honored or annoyed.
I focused my energies on the food. The last time I’d had steak was for Christmas a few years ago. I knew Mom did her best, but it was nothing like this. So juicy, so tender, so flavorful. I wanted to ask someone else if this wasn’t the best steak they’d ever had. If Marlee had been nearby, I would have. I took a tentative peek around the room. Marlee was chattering quietly with the people around her.
How did she manage to do that? Hadn’t that same clip declared her one of the immediate favorites? How did she get people to talk to her?
Dessert was an assortment of fruits in vanilla ice cream. It was like I’d never eaten before. If this was food, what had I been putting in my mouth up to this point? I thought of May and her equal love for all things sweet. She would have loved this. I bet she would have excelled here.
We weren’t allowed to leave dinner until everyone had finished, and after that we were under strict orders to go straight to bed.
“You’ll be meeting Prince Maxon in the morning, and you’ll want to look your best,” Silvia instructed. “He is someone in this room’s future husband, after all.”
A few girls sighed at the thought.
The click and clack of shoes up the stairs was quieter this time around. I couldn’t wait to get out of mine. Out of the dress, too. I had one set of clothes from home in my backpack and was debating putting them on just to feel like myself for a moment.
We dispersed at the top of the stairs, each girl heading off to her own room. Marlee pulled me aside.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s just that some of the girls were looking at me funny during dinner.” I tried not to come across as whiny.
“They’re just a little nervous because everyone liked you so much,” she said, waving off their behavior.
“But the people liked you, too. I saw the signs. Why weren’t the girls being mean to you?”
“You haven’t spent a whole lot of time with groups of girls, have you?” She was smiling slyly, like I should know what was happening.
“No. Just my sisters mostly,” I confessed.
“Homeschooled?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I get tutored with a bunch of other Fours back home, all girls, and they each have their ways of getting under other people’s skin. See, it’s all about knowing the person, figuring out what will bug them the most. Lots of girls give me backhanded compliments, or little remarks, things like that. I know I come across as bubbly, but I’m shy underneath that, and they think they can wear me down with words.”
I scrunched my forehead. They did that on purpose?
“For you, someone kind of quiet and mysterious—”
“I’m not mysterious,” I interrupted.
“You are a little. And sometimes people don’t know whether to interpret silence as confidence or fear. They’re looking at you like you’re a bug so maybe you’ll feel like you are one.”
“Huh.” That kind of made sense. I wondered what I was doing, if I was picking away at others’ insecurities somehow. “What do you do? When you want to get the best of them, I mean?”