Chapter One

I study my face in the small mirror in my bathroom. Ugh. Frizzy brownish hair, skin broken up by acne, and a colossal nose. It's not like my body is any better. With a wide, chunky figure and no curves, I look like some sort of human bowling ball.

I stand in my bathroom contemplating this fact until Mom bangs on the door. "Come on, Kriss!" she says, her voice clipped and sharp. "I have a class to teach at twelve o'clock!"

A heavy sigh escapes me. I know that she isn't thrilled about me putting my name in for the Selection, and truth be told, I'm not either. I still don't know exactly why I'm doing this. Well, fine, I do. It's all Maleen's fault.

At school the other day, I sat next to Randy at our usual lunch table. The whole school was gossiping about who was applying to be Selected (practically everyone.) Maleen, the mostpopular girl in school, had been giggling behind her hand with her two little followers, Kelli and Emma. They all shared the same princess build: slim waist, slender hips, and practically invisible thighs. They crossed over to our side of the lunch room, and stopped at mine and Randy's table. "So, Kriss, you applying for the Selection?" Maleen asked, her voice full innocence. She put a perfectly formed finger to her lip and stared at me thoughtfully. "But what would you put under the talents section of the application form? Overeating?"

I flushed and stared into my tuna salad as Kelli and Emma giggled. Randy, however, was fuming. "Of course Kriss is applying for the Selection," she stated confidently. "And with her beauty and personality, Prince Maxon would be lucky to have her."

Maleen and her friends tossed their shiny hair and strutted back to their lunch table, but I just stared at Randy. "What are you talking about? I don't want to apply for the Selection! I don't even know anything about the prince!"

"Well, you have to apply now," Randy said with authority. She leaned closer to me. "And honestly? You really are gorgeous."

I blushed. Randy always told me that I look like Queen Amberly. I look nothing like her, except for maybe my hair color. Still, it is nice to hear that I really am pretty once in a while, even when I know that it's not true.

That's what I'm thinking of as I forage in my closet for something nice enough to wear in my Selection application photo. Maybe that blue dress I wore to Randy's party? I pull it off of the hanger and shimmy it up my body. A button in the back is fastened, the zipper is pulled up tight, and I survey my shoe options. Sadly, the most fancy pair I have are plain black flats. I slip them on, push open my bedroom door, and trot downstairs, accompanied by the sound of my shoes on the wooden steps.

Mom is tapping her foot impatiently, her beautiful auburn hair twisted into a tight bun on the top of her head. She definitely isn't the cause of my ugliness. "Finally," she sighs, and yanks me through the door by my arm. I almost lose my balance. "Mom, slow down!" I yell. "Seriously!"

"Okay!" she yells, pulling me along after her. "I'm going to be late for one of my classes just so that I can take you to get a picture taken, so of course I should slow down! Great idea!"

I take a step back and survey her face. She doesn't usually act like this. "Mom," I say soothingly. "Calm down. I can walk myself, if you want."

Mom sighs. "Thank you, Kriss, you're so sweet. Sorry, I'm just really stressed."

She gives me directions to the photo site and hands me my application paper before rushing off to the university where she teaches. My first instinct is to turn right back around and relax in the house all day, but a voice in my head says No. You are going to march right up there and get your picture taken, and no one is going to ridicule you.

Of course Randy's voice is in my head, even when she isn't around. Still, I feel like I have something to prove now by doing this. It's not about the prince, not like I'm actually going to get chosen. It's an issue of confidence now. And even if I am severely lacking in that department, I'm not going to let the rest of the world think that Kriss Ambers is too scared and insecure to enter the Selection.

I put one foot in front of the other, not daring to believe where I was going until I reach the intimidating, noisy line full of teenage girls. Half of them already look like queens, and none looks anything like me.

A/N: I know I didn't put in anything about Kriss supporting the Northern Rebels yet, but I'll get to that in the next few chapters. Thanks for reading, and please review!