The letter sat there in the middle of the kitchen table like a chasm that ripped through the room. With every ticking second of still tension suffocating the air, I sank further and further into its dark void. My frustration churned tides in my stomach. Although the cycle of my hands swimming in the sink's cool froth provided some solace to fill the silence, my scowl only grew more contorted with each hostile stare prickling my back.

Clink.

Swish.

Scrape.

I cursed the speck of grime, furiously filing away at the blemish.

Scrape.

Swish.

Scrape.

Clatter.

"I'm not going to join some stupid competition full of hormone-crazed teenage girls just to win the heart of a spoiled Prince!" I flapped my arms out, flicking water droplets from the wet rag. Turning around, I caught the narrowed expressions of the twins and Beck.

Beck's tight scowl broke into a maddened fury, leaping off the sagging gray couch, and stomping towards the counter. I glared right into his deep brown, almost black eyes that always reminded me of polished obsidian. But instead of reflecting light and laughter, his irises shone with anger.

I didn't dare step back or cower away. Instead, I tilted my head up to meet his face only inches away now, and masked my alarm with an air of irritation. Setting the rag on the chipping linoleum counter, I crossed my arms across my chest, glowering as if to say, And what are you gonna do about that?

Beck opened his mouth, but then squeezed it shut with a huff, stepping back a foot away from me. Making an effort to calm his rage, Beck gazed at me with pleading eyes, speaking with his familiar comforting tone. "Adeline, please, just hear us out."

Beck took me by my shoulders, the callouses on his fingertips digging into my shoulder blades. He lowered his voice to a throaty whisper. "I know that you do want to enter the Selection, but don't want to leave Elaine and Eli. But you have to realize that they're almost 12 now, the age when you were taking care of two twin toddlers and a sick mother. They're not little kids anymore, and they can take care of themselves. I can take care of them."

My heart stung at the mention of my late mother. I masked a wince, but Beck knew me too well, wrapping his body around mine. His right hand rubbed circles in the small of my back. Nestling my face into his shoulder, I melted into his sturdy arms, a soft sigh escaping through my nostrils. My eyes wandered into the makeshift living room where the twins were pretending to focus on their studies. Tears threatened to spill down my face, but I hurriedly forced them to recede. Drawing in a deep breath, I gush the thoughts that have plagued me for the last week.

"They are still little kids, and I was still a little kid when my mother fell sick." I shuttered at the quaver in my voice, drawing strength to whisper my last plea. "I just don't want them to go through that. They deserve more."

"You deserved more than that," Beck said, untangling himself. "And if you enter the Selection, you'll give them a chance at something even better than they could have imagined."

I scoffed, turning back to the disarray of dishes. "That's only if I win, Beckett. And the money doesn't even come in if I don't make it to the 35 that go to the palace."

"Hey, if you don't try, you'll never know." Beck winked, falling into familiar routine beside me. "And don't worry; with that stubborn mind and pretty face of yours, the Prince will be throwing himself at you in a heartbeat."

I chuckled. "The killer combo, I hear."

Beck peered at me out of the corner of his eyes, their color now melting into a chocolate brown in the glow of the fluorescent lights. His voice spoke of the steady fondness that I had grown to treasure.

"Definitely."

Gripping the letter in one hand, and a bundle of cookies in the other, I tiptoed through the forest that lined the edge of the province. Pressing against the rough scales of the tree trunks, I hopped between the footholds of their roots, grateful for the chirping of the crickets to mask the soft rustling of my movements. After navigating through the thicket of foliage, the dense web of branches parted to reveal a nicely manicured backyard. I smiled longingly at the threads of light that rippled across the surface of the pool.

Those were simpler times.

I ducked behind the patio furniture, keeping an eye out for wandering neighbors. Once I reached the left window, I thumped on the glass, triggering a flicker of light from the bedroom. Catching a glimpse of my crouching form beside the bush, the girl lifted the window open with a soft whoosh. Climbing inside, I almost knocked over a vase on her nightstand. I burst into a fit of laughter. "I guess I'm not the graceful dancer I used to be."

I looked up at her ever-radiant face, her eyes now crinkled at the corners with fondness. "You're so lucky that my parents aren't home, Addy."

What remained of my ability to breathe mustered a heaving snort. I grimaced, mumbling through a breathy cough. "I haven't heard anyone call me Addy since I was a Five."

A vague sense of longing tugged at my heart, even though it was a long time since I had thought about it last. I was grateful for being able to climb up two caste levels to Sixes, but the regret of dragging my family down to Eights still lingered in my mind.

Picking myself off the carpeted floor, my hands ran down the wrinkles of my canvas t-shirt and khaki pants. I jut my chin up, dismissing any grief that strained my heart.

"My God, and how long ago was that?" Her giggle trailed off in a distracted silence. A faraway nostalgic expression softened her bright blue eyes like a haze of wispy clouds floating in the morning sky.

I sighed.

"Seven years ago, when we were twelve."

Her plush down comforter enveloped me as I plopped down on her queen-sized bed. Through slitted, sleepy eyes, I watched her saunter towards the bookshelf opposite the bed, and pick up a small picture frame from the middle shelf.

"We were quite a team back then."

I sat up from my relaxed position and balanced myself on the foot of her bed. Taking the picture from her hands, I gingerly wiped off a bit of dust from the glass. The film of grime lifted to reveal the picturesque portrait of two little ballerinas dressed in blush leotards and matching tutus. Her younger self had her arm draped across my shoulders, while I had mine around her waist. I smiled wistfully at the scene. "You still have the photo from the recital."

I read the engraving on the frame.

Adele and Amelia September 19th, 2128

I glanced between the picture and Amelia. My eyes flickered at the startling difference between the two images. Throughout the eight years, her bright gold frizzy mane had dissolved into glamorous loose curls. They framed her now striking face. Gone was the baby fat, revealing sculpted cheekbones and an alluringly curvy, yet slim figure. She was a force to be reckoned with.

Amelia could have been a model, if she wasn't born a Three. Her family had the money to buy her way up the caste system to a Two, but her parents had no business as celebrities. They were devoted in their work as dance teachers. The best dance teachers.

"Have you still been practicing ballet, Ad?" Amelia inquired as I set the photo back on the shelf. "Mom always wonders about her best student."

"When I have time," I tried to keep my tone light, but anguish still tainted my voice.

She dipped her head down, a limp frown displaying the dimple that tailed the corner of her mouth. "It must be hard as a Six. I could never do laborious housework all day."

I shrugged.

"I've been worse."

Even though she turned around to lay on her bed, I still caught the look of pity that flashed on her face, probably remembering the couple years that I had been an Eight.

Starving.

Homeless.

Lowestest of the low.

I shook my head. "But I didn't come here to talk about that."

I picked up the letter and the cookies from the floor as I made my way to her bed. "I have presents." The corner of my lips lifted in a playful smirk as I hid the items behind my back. "One of them is delicious and the other will cause you misery for the rest of your life. Choose one."

Her dimple reappeared, her mouth now upturned in an impish smile. Amelia maneuvered behind me and snatched the bundle of cookies. Unwrapping the paper napkin, she threw me one and shoved the other into her mouth.

"Chocolate chip. My favorite," She mumbled, her mouth full of food.

I grinned, tossing the letter into her lap. "I stole some of Beck's extra stash to cushion the bad news."

"I can't tell you how lucky you are to have an amazing chef around."

"A chef's servant, technically," I corrected.

Amelia glanced down at the letter, her face immediately brightening.

"My, my. Now this doesn't look like bad news at all. If I'm not mistaken, this looks like an invitation to the Selection!"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get too excited, Ames. Every girl in Illéa ages 16 through 20 gets one."

"I know, I got one too!" She squealed. "Are you going to apply? You have to apply, Ad."

"I..."

I thought back to my outburst just a few hours ago.

"I don't know."

"Ad, you're not going to tell me that you're not going to apply just because the twins need a maternal figure in their life. I thought Beck would knock some sense into you by now."

"It's not just that, Ames." I lowered my voice even though we were the only ones in the house. "What if they find out?"

Her face contorted in confusion, but then realization dawned on her. "Ad, you look completely different from when you were twelve. I can even give you some makeup and one of my dresses, and you'll look like a new person!" Amelia smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but she quickly reverted back to her hushed voice. "And you changed your name years ago, anyway."

I stared off out the window, lost in thought. My stomach knotted at the possibility that I could be caught. It seemed like I was finally out of their reach after seven years of hiding. The Selection could shatter everything. For both me and my family.

The twins. Beck. I couldn't drag them into all this. The twins were only four when we ran, and Beck started living with us only a few years ago.

They didn't know. They couldn't know. I wouldn't allow it.

But no matter how consumed with worry I was, a nagging prospect still tugged at my brain. There was always a solicitude in my conscience that I was not providing enough for my family. This could have been the opportunity to give them a chance at anything they ever wanted. Elaine could become the ballerina I knew she always wanted to, as a Five, and Eli would be able to buy his way up to become a politician, as a Two.

And, even though I hated even admitting it to myself, some part of me dreamed about living in the lap of luxury for even a day, swathed in luscious fabrics and adorned with glittering jewels.

My jumbled thoughts solidified into one question.

Could I risk everything that I had built for us?