The Selection always intrigued me. It seemed to happen, to be broadcasted, and then forgotten. Until 20 years later when the process would start up again. I also thought about how Prince Liam would be of age this year and I am too.

I looked around my room at the shelves piled high with books and papers. I was a three, and I was happy. I loved to study and I rarely left my desk. The other girls wished to meet the handsome Prince Liam, and I just rolled my eyes. Though Prince Liam was very handsome, with his longer brown hair with deep blue eyes….

"Eleanor?" My mother called from downstairs, "Come down for dinner!"

"Ok" I replied, I grabbed a book at random and went downstairs.

As I rounded the corner I could smell the wonderful scent of spicy chicken and sweet rolls wafting towards me, and my mouth began to water. Coming into the kitchen I found my father furiously studying a new report on an impending war with Russia. My older brother sat, lounging, on the couch flipping through channels on the TV and I sighed at the site.

Jeremy was never fit for the bookish-type life. He was strangely lazy and I doubt he has ever read a book without pictures in it. But I loved him. He was funny and sweet, but being an introvert myself, his style was a little overwhelming.

We sat around the table enjoying our meal when my mother cleared her throat.

"Well, as you surely know it's time for another Selection," She chose her words carefully, "And this came today."

She slid a creamy white envelope across the table towards me and I felt my face grow warm.

I took a second to look at my father who had stopped reading his paper.

"That's…. wonderful. I'm sure whoever Prince Liam chooses will be a wonderful queen." I said slowly, and then stuffed my mouth with a roll so I didn't have to speak again for a while.

"Yes. I was thinking that as well, and nobody would be a better choice than my little Eleanor." My mother smiled at me with such pride I ducked my head. I glanced at my father and my mother did the same. Realizing he was in the spotlight he said, "I think Elenor would be a wonderful candidate! I just think, well, I think she should have time to debate over her options." He finished with a satisfactory smile on his face and went back to reading his paper.

"Oh. Of course." My mother said, a little embarrassed fro how she tended to rush things.

The rest of the dinner was eaten in silence, I was thinking about my decision to join The Selection. I thought about our wonderful Queen Marilyn, and how she was once a 6, a queen from the lowest caste yet. She was wonderful. She was strong, and it seemed like some days she lead the country. I wanted to be like that. I could help our country in so many ways, but then again, I am timid. I am shy. I blush too easily; I like my books more than parties. I could not be queen.

We all finished our dinners, did the dishes, and I excused myself to my room. Once there I shut the door and pulled out my cell phone. It was a little old-fashioned, but I was glad to have it all the same. My family and I are 3's we are the teachers and studious caste. We always had plenty of food to go around and about enough money to buy a whole new house left over. My mother was a little protective of me, and tried to keep my from slipping into an addiction of tech, like most rich kids in our caste (And my Brother) she keep strict limits on my electronic usage.

I opened an Instant messaging app and started to text Shayla. Shayla was a 3 like me and was my only friend. Our relationship worked in a way that would mystify others. Shayla was bubbly, boy crazy, and very intelligent all the same. I was almost the exact opposite. I was a lot more shy and reserved. Shayla was a strawberry blond with brown eyes and fair skin; will I had my Chestnut hair with green eyes and olive skin. We loved to share ideas and laugh about inside jokes. I loved listening to her tales of dates with some of the local boys, and she loved to listen as I dramatically retold the last book I read.

"I'm guessing you already got the letter?" I texted.

"OF COURSE! OMG! I'VE ALREADY FILLED IT OUT TOO!" she replied.

I laughed a little at her enthusiasm and texted back "You are crazy. I haven't even opened the envelope, though my mother is silently begging me to fill out the forms."

A few seconds later I got her reply. "Hold on I'm coming over."

I laughed and figured that right now, 2 streets away, she was packing a night bag (Curfew was only 45 minutes away), kissing her mom on the cheek and sprinting over here. Just as I predicted I heard the doorbell 10 minutes later.

My mother answered the door, "Hi Shayla! I see you've got your night bag, and I think I know why you're here. Here's our letter. Eleanor is in her room… like normal." I rolled my eyes.

Three seconds later my door flew open and here was Shayla, red-faced and sweaty.

"Get over here." I laughed.

We both sat on my bed and pulled out the papers. I still wasn't sure how could ever win the Selection, but a little part of me made me grab a pen and start filling out the forms.

I marveled at how Shayla could do that, totally changing my mind and making something wonderful out of nothing. I filled out that I knew Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, and of course, English. I put that I was the highest-ranking student in my school and that I knew how to play piano. I giggled at how Shayla way over dramatized her forms by saying she knew 6 languages and that she could play 3 instruments. Which was half true, she could speak Canadian, American, New Zealand-ish, Australian, British, and Spanish.

We spent the night talking about what we would wear to the shoots and what we would say to the prince if we were one of the 35 girls to meet him. The more Shayla was there, the more I got excited, the more I wanted this.