I wasn't supposed to be in caste seven. I was supposed to have a life full of freedom and grace. I remember the grand hallways, the long dresses, and the heat during the winter. And I remember my dad. My father's face full of warmth and happiness, when he would come home and pick my siblings and me up into her arms, spin us around, and wrestle with us. My mother and him always sneaking a kiss in when they thought we weren't looking. We would cover our eyes and giggle, we knew how much father and mother were in love. And as a little girl I could only dream of the day our very own prince charming would sweep us off our feet.

I remember my father's burnt hands and the roughness of them, charred slightly black. He would come home with ashes on his face on occasion but mother would be right on duty. She would hold a wash cloth to his face and simple sigh as she would gently clean him up. He was a firefighter, chief in charge of Clermont, and the best at his job. He once took down several rebels and extinguished a fire within 10 minutes. (Or so father liked to tell us). He was good at his job and he loved it.

Mother didn't love his job. She always thought it was too dangerous and often you could hear her crying when the nights were long and there was no sign of father. She would listen to reports on the radio hoping that nothing was wrong. Often father just had a lot of paper work to do, being in charge of a lot of men, and meetings to attend with other chiefs from places like Kent and Hansport. You see, mother didn't have a job. She couldn't get a job in caste two. Mother and father fell in love when mother was gardening father's garden. He had just moved out into a bigger house to start his life as the chief and wanted the outside of his house to look just as grand as the inside.

Mother was a humble gardener, a seven in the caste system. And they fell in love. Though the government looked down on their marriage, and highly questioned if something unfavorable happened, they allowed them to be married. And quickly my mother rose to be a two in the caste system. She wasn't gorgeous or entertaining, she couldn't be an MTV spokesperson or a model. And she was to weak and fragile to be a firefighter or anything with the government. So she became a stay at home mom.

We saved money by not hiring gardeners, maids, or anyone else. We took care of ourselves. The only thing that cost us a pretty penny was the children's schooling. My mother wanted us to be home schooled and well trained in music, dance, instruments, and foreign languages. When we were not being schooled we were taught to clean and cook from our mother. We always thought we would be financially secure, even if father lost his job or died. We would be okay.

We didn't plan for father to fall in love with another woman. And we didn't plan for father to take all our money and leave his four children behind.

She was a model, a two in the system. Nobody questioned his decision to leave us. And my father paid for us to disappear. We weren't going to go without a fight, but when you have as much power as my father did then fighting didn't help. Something must have been wrong with him, he must have been drugged! Father would never leave behind mother and his children. Let alone let us starve and become sevens. But he did. I don't know why. Even to this day we haven't seen him. We only heard of his accomplishments over the radio, which for a long time was the only way I could sleep at night. If I knew father was safe and doing his job then everything would be okay. He would come back to us.

But he never did.

So here we are today, my mother and us children working out in a garden on a sunny day. The birds chirped and all seemed well. Though our stomach's growled from the lack of food we still worked hard. Pulling weeds, planting flowers, watering bushes, and much more.

"I don't want to pull another weed ever again!" My little sister, Tonisha, yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Hey! Don't be yelling that. We are privileged to have work." Stanton, my 16 year old brother, whispered in a harsh tone into Tonisha's ear as he dragged her to another weed patch.

"Stanton, don't be so hard on her. She's only seven." My voice came out stern and warning. I was in charge of this job, while my mother was out working for smaller clients. The clients we were currently working for were the kindest we had ever had the honor to work for. They were educators, threes in the caste system. In exchange for gardening their yard and taking care of the grounds they taught Tonisha and Shane, my youngest brother, reading and writing skills.

"When do I get to go learn? It's not fair. Shane gets more time." Tonisha whined and lied in the grass flat on her back, refusing to work anymore. I wanted to do Tonisha's work, except I had the harder job of trimming hedges and planting brand new flowers all along the walk way up to the grand house.

"Tonisha, your brother is younger then you. He needs more-" I tried to explain to her while planting a tulip but suddenly was interrupted by front door swinging wide open and my brother running out to hug me.

"Rissy! Rissy!" Shane yelled at the top of his lungs, full of excitement and joy. His face beamed with enthusiasm as he ran over and grabbed my tanned arm, which held the tulip in it.

"Hey! Hey! Shane! Calm down! Let me put this flower in the ground then you can take me-" Once again I was interrupted but this time it was by a shadow that towered over me. I looked up from the ground to see my client, Grace Monarch, smiling down on me.

I immediately stood up, dropping the flower and made a quick curtsey to her. I acted like she was royalty whenever I was in her presence. To me she was truly the closest thing I had ever met to a princess. Grace is tall, beautiful, raven black hair, with green eyes that sparkled. She was also very kind and intelligent.

"Arista, may I talk to you inside for a moment?" She didn't wait for a response though; she turned and began walking back inside. She expected to me to follow and I did.

I had never really been welcomed inside of their house before. I'm a seven, and even the most kind of three's would never allow such a commoner inside. They had decided to only teach my brother and sister because they couldn't work by themselves and were only 3 and 2 years old when my father left us. They had no education to their names at all.

"Arista. Please sit." True to her name, Grace gracefully sat in a red leather love seat in front of an unlit fireplace. She motioned for me to sit in the direct opposite red leather couch in front of her, separating us was a nice wood coffee table.

"As you most likely know The Selection is sweeping Illéa by storm.King Maxon and Queen America's child, Zander, is quite the amazing person. He has come up with many plans for our country and is seen to be as a very promising king," Grace reached to the side of her seat and pulled out a pink leather bag, searching through her purse she pulled out papers with the royal seal on them, "any female is allowed to enter the selection as long as they are in the appropriate age range, as I am sure you know."

Grace placed the papers onto the coffee table in front of us and looked at me with a very motherly smile, "My children are eligible but have no interest. My twins have both fallen in love with two twins in the entertainment business," She pushed the papers closer to me. I felt like she was hinting at something, "Arista. You are a talented and beautiful girl. A seven has never been Selected before, of course seven's usually aren't pretty or intelligent. You, Arista, are no regular seven. Since you lived thirteen years of your life as a two."

"Wait. Are you saying you want me to enter The Selection?" My voice came out almost in a whisper. Why was she being so nice to me? Why was she handing me the papers to The Selection? I hardly really knew Grace, and she hardly knew me! And the chances of me being selected are next to nothing.

"Arista, I can't explain why I want you to enter. But I need you to." With that Grace placed a fancy fountain pen, an old antique, next to the paper and left the room leaving me with a wink of her eye.

I picked up the pen and began to fill out the paper. I felt compelled too and amused by the idea. I was eligible last year, but sevens were never sent papers to fill out, and I had never wanted to enter. Out of all the girls in Clermont I was not going to be chosen. But it couldn't hurt me and Grace had taken me into her household for me to fill it out. I didn't want to upset her, in case she got deeply offended by me turning down the offer and stopped teaching my brother and sister.

'Okay. Name, Arista Green. Age, seventeen.' I began to fill out the form, using a fountain pen was a bit difficult but it did look really nice and fancy on the paper, 'I can play the piano and acoustic guitar,' Although I haven't actually played much since I was thirteen, on occasion I would be allowed to play instruments at client's houses, 'I can speak Chinese and Russian fluently. My highest education is home schooling by Marissa Ledger. Stopped at age thirteen.'

I finished filling out the form, signing my name at the bottom beautifully. I then left the paper on the coffee table and proceeded to go back outside to finish my job.

"Arista, come by tomorrow morning to send this." I heard Grace calling from the front door as I went back to my tulips.

What would mother think if she knew? Maybe Grace had already talked to her. If not, well, she never had to know. I wouldn't be selected.