Daria
I stumbled into my house, kicking off my shoes in the process. With King Maxon never removing the castes like he'd promised, my family were unfortunately still only sixes. I had to work everyday, except for Wednesdays, I got to go to school on Wednesdays.
With three brothers all younger than me, I have to help my mom and dad supply them with the luxury of school every week day. I remember when it was just me, I was able to go to school until I was twelve, then I had to start working. My brothers were 12, 8, and 5. Kilton may have to stop working, but my parents haven't decided if they should pull him from school or not.
I secretly think my mom is hoping I'll become part of Prince Lyonal's Selection. But the odds of that are 5,000 to 1, and there a far more girls more accomplished and pretty, and sophisticated than me. Why would a one ever choose a six? I'm 16, and the Prince is 18, he's having his Selection in a little more than three months, and the girls are already lining up to get their names into the drawing. If you ask me, it's a big waste of time. Those girls are only getting their hopes up, if anything, the Prince would lower himself to a four, and that's if he's not picky.
However, Prince Salen seems like more of the romantic type. Comparing him and his brother, you would easily tell who would pick the love of his life, and who would pick the best match politically. Prince Salen is my age, when his Selection comes around, as he said he wanted, I would be 18 as well, 20 is the cut-off. 21 if someone has good relations. But no older than that.
I walked into the kitchen, and saw the t.v. from here. I rolled my eyes, the royal family. King Maxon, Queen America, Prince Lyonal and Prince Salen sitting in a row, talking to the reporter on television. They seemed like the perfect picture, but everyone knew that the relationship between Maxon and America has started to decline, they just need to hold out until they decide to give the throne to Lyonal, or they get killed. In these days and times, with the unrest over the promised "breaking of the castes" not being fulfilled, there are more riots and rebels than ever.
"Darling, you're home!" My mother's voice broke through my thoughts.
"Uh yeah. Anything good on?" I asked, although I knew there wasn't.
"The royal family, oh, and guess what? I got us both some free time so we can enter your name in the Selection!" My mom cried, smiling brightly.
I stood and stared at her in shock. "What? Why?" I asked, stammering.
"Because, Darling Daria, you deserve better than this pile of trash of a life. I got lucky, I was a seven, but became a six because of your father. You could have a chance at being a One, or…" She rambled.
"Or, stay a six forever anyway." I finished for her. "Mom, it's no use, nothing is ever going to happen to make me a One. Especially if it's Prince Lyonal." I smirked.
"What about the second one? Salen? He'll have one in two years!" She said, desperate for a way to get me to agree.
"Mom!" I said, grabbing her hands gently. "Put my name in if you want, but you'll see, nothing will come of it." I said softly.
"But Darling, you might stand a chance, they aren't asking for the mention of a caste, it'll be a sort of anonymous Selection. All they ask is age, and name! They'll come get you, bring you to the palace, make you up, and present you! He won't even know you're a six unless you tell him!" My mother explained, not breathing until she finished. I stared back blankly.
No Castes Necessary? Maybe I would stand a chance.