It was a hot summer day in Carolina, with the sun beating down onto the roads, frying some innocent flies in the process. People were relaxing on the beach and getting wonderfully tanned. Kids, now out of school were screaming and yelling out in happiness on playgrounds while their parents were talking animatedly to each other. Happiness was just floating around in the air, and it was just all-

"Mom! Dad! I don't want to go to this damn selection!" I yelled out for what seemed like the millionth time. "I'm perfectly fine with my life right now!"

Here I was, sitting in our little dining room, discussing this topic of going to the oh so glorious Prince Aspen's selection. There was no way in hell I would even consider going. But my mom had a different idea.

"America! Language!" I rolled my eyes at that. They would be using the same language if they were in my position. What kind of parent would force their children to enter a raffle that could force them to marry a person that they don't even know, and could change their course of their life forever? Oh wait... My parents would.

"I'm speaking Eeennnngleeeesssss, mom." I fired back at her. "I just don't want to go to this stupid, arrogant, stuck up, little prick's selection!" I hope that was enough descriptive words to convince my mom that I don't want to go.

"Show respect to your future king! And I will make you sign up!" Shoot... That wasn't enough descriptive words. I knew I should have added 'bitchy tyrant' to that list.

"And America, just... Please at least sign up for it! You are 19, meaning that you are at a perfect age for signing up! Other girls would kill to be your age! Just sign up!" No. No. No. No. Never in a million years. Nope. Nada. Zilch. I internally swore in my mind just for good measure and prayed that she would consider not signing me up.

"Why should I? I don't want to possibly date a guy that I don't know!" I pleaded with all my might. I even gave her my puppy dog eyes. But she didn't fall for it. Instead, she called for reinforcements.

"Shalom? Come here please!" Don't. Bring. Him. In. Here.

And then in walks my dad. Damn it. Now my odds of winning this battle are not in my favor. My dad always had a way to convince me to do things.

"America doesn't want to go to Prince Aspen's selection." My mom tattletaled. My dad stood there, thinking about which side he should take.

"Well, while I do not think that you should force our daughter to go to the selection," Yes! He's on my side.I did a little victory dance in my head. Wait... I replayed that sentence in my head. While I do not think... WHILE? He continued on, and my heart sank. "But America, dear," he turned toward me. Uh oh. "I think this would be a great experience for you and to exploit your singing talents to the whole world instead of just little children's birthday parties. Also, you can really help us financially by doing this."

"But dad-"

"America." Mom said in a condescending tone. I sighed.

"Fine." I grumbled, "I'll grab the forms from the town hall today."

I probably had a slim chance of getting into that jackass's selection anyway. I'm not that pretty with my dull dray eyes and ghost white skin, and I'm pretty sure the process of getting into the selection that they look at a picture of you and then decide whether they get in based on your looks.

"America! When are you getting the forms?" My mom's way too perky voice echoed in my ear. I clenched my fists and tried not to give anyone a black eye when I heard her voice reeking of victory and boastfulness.

"Later."

"America..." She said condescendingly again.

"Fine." I grumbled. And then I exited the room, slamming the door as hard as I can, just to piss her off.

Off on the other side of the door in the house, I heard her yell, "America! That is mahogany!"

I smirked at that.

I walked out onto the streets of Carolina where I saw children playing around in the hot burning sun, people sun bathing in the hot burning sun, people swimming in pools in the hot burning sun, people getting sun burned from not putting any sunscreen on in the hot burning sun, and insects burning to death and then bring poked at and inspected by two year olds in the hot burning sun. Many buildings were towering over the small humble area that I lived in. All was well.

After walking for a while, I finally gradually cooled down from the argument I had with my mom as I walked in silence and looked at my surroundings again. Nature has always had its way of cooling me down.

And then I reached the town hall and my jaw dropped.

Girls were swarming around, tackling each other to get to the forms. Twos, Threes, and Fours were all pushing to the front of the clump, leaving the small group of Fives, Sixes, Sevens and Eights to the back. Here I go.

I walked towards the clump of people and waited. I scanned my surroundings. Tables were all lined up around the room with piles and piles of papers on them, undoubtedly the forms that the other girls have signed. Wow. My chances of getting in aren't that high! Yes! I don't even know why they wanted me to sign up for this competition- the odds of actually getting in are approximately 35/84700000000^98. Awesome.

But on the other hand...

My parents were struggling to support us, and if I got in, that would be extremely beneficial to our family. They could live a life where money was no obstacle, where they were never hungry. And I want that for my brothers and sisters. I will try to support them, unlike how Kota did.

Kota. That name sent a shiver down my back. He was now a well known sculptor, and has been a year since we have even gotten contact with him. That selfish little prick who only wanted himself to thrive. He stole all the money and fame he had gotten from the sculpture our family worked on for months. All he wanted was fame and fortune, meaning all he wanted was to be a Two. He doesn't deserve to be called a Singer. That stupid little arse.

Fine. I will do my best to support my family, even if it means entering this stupid competition for a prince's love.

I finally got to the front part of the line after realizing just waiting for the line to disperse will not work, and joining the realm of tackling and tripping people will work. Heh. That was actually pretty fun, ignoring the fact that I got my hair pulled a couple of times by the raving girls that might as well be future football players.

I grabbed the paper that felt cool under my touch and started filling it out, knowing that I had a very slimmmm, and when I meant slim I meant 1 inch of chance that I would actually get in, me being a five and below average looking. So I filled out the form honestly.

The registration form asked simple things like age (you had to be in between the ages 19-23 to sign up for this), height, extracurricular activities you do, caste (duh), languages you speak, whether you were single or ready to mingle, and all that other what not that I found utterly useless. At the end it said:

Thank you for registering for Prince Aspen's Selection!

Tomorrow at 1:00 is picture day, so make sure you get ready! This will also be sent for judging!

Wow... Judging people on appearance. Just. Wow.

Results will be aired on the weekly Friday Illea Capitol Report! So make sure you tune in!

Oh well. I will have to go back and visit realm of sweaty, tackling, hair-pulling girls (basically hell) again tomorrow for picture day. Joy. My life is so awesome.

Well, that is chapter one! This is just a little idea I had in my head for a while and I finally decided to actually execute it!

Do you think this story is worth continuing?

~ShippingQueen