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whats-meant-to-be-selection

THANKS! Read on!

Dressed in a newly tailored crisp back suit and a white button down with a black bowtie, I take a deep breath and try to radiate confidence. I'm jittery, but I can act cool enough so I look nonchalant.

Gavril announced his retirement the day my dad announced that he would marry my mom, and Calla Daquilante had been announcing for us ever since. For their wedding, all of my aunts and uncles marriages, all of the Selected's marriages, for all of my cousin's and sister's birth's, all of the events, and every report every Friday of my life. I know that she'll try to make me look as comfortable as possible; she's quite skilled at making things look easy.

I sit in between Blair and my mom in large white bubble chairs. On a 180 degree angle from us is all the rest of the Royal Family: Anna and Charlie, Bexley, Christopher, William, and Courtney, Ara and her husband Aaron, their sons Wesley and Liam and their daughter Amaryllis, Josephine and her husband Kaden, plus their son Romeo and their daughters Delaney and Natalie, and Victoria and Jackson's twins Colton and Daelyn, Mallory, Tierney, and Searra. Grandma America and Grandpa Maxon sit behind my family. The support that my huge extended family helps, but I'm still in a panic! With 35 girls, how are you supposed to find the one that's meant to be?

"We're on in 3! 2!" The cameraman makes a "1" with is fingers and signal's that we're live.

"Good evening Illéa!" Calla's enthusiasm is palpable. "It's so glad to be here on this beautiful Friday evening!" My family, practically a full audience, applauds, filling up the room with clapping. "We have several things to talk about tonight, but lets get to the topic you actually care about." A lot of us chuckle. "Prince Carter, could you please come down here?" I do as told, and Christopher, Bexley, and Romeo cheer as the rest of the family claps politely. "You all must know that Crown Prince Carter Schreave is 19. And when King Lucas turned 19, and even old Ex-King Maxon, for folks from that generation, they had their own Selection." She looks at me to finish.

"It would be a shame to break tradition." I lead on, winking.

"Get your forms people! Its time for Illéa's 6th Selection!"

"I swear I can't take anybody seriously who winks at a camera." My best friend Madison -named after the queen herself- deadpans. I laugh, and she smirks in my direction, pleased with herself. It's rare that we can sleepover with each other now that we're 18 and starting college in the fall, but some of my best memories include the 2 of us snuggled up side by side on the pullout in my basement, watching movies or the Report on the large but old TV.

"Do you think you'll enter?" I ask her.

"Probably not." She refuses to elaborate.

"Ah. Why be Selected when you can ogle at Carter Tinley all day?" I poke her stomach.

"Shut up." She buries her face in her pillow, her chestnut hair, closely resembling mine, falling around the soft white case. "You're one to judge! You've liked most of our grade." She grumbles.

"So have you!" I argue. "And, unlike you, I don't have a crush right now. I'm signing up." I reply with certainty.

"Good for you." She says supportively.

"First thing in the morning?" I confirm.

"Sure, I'll wake you." See, I've always had an EXTREME problem waking up early. Not beneficial to any job except for mine, novelist, half the reason I chose it.

True to her word, I'm woken at promptly 7:00 to take a shower and get ready. We wanted to get there by 9:00, and blow drying my hair would take at least 45 minutes. When I finish drying and then curling my hair and apply light lip gloss and mascara, I walk out to find my clothes set out for me. Madison has a weird obsession with my clothes, she's always said she liked them more than her own. She set out for me a black short sleeved top, which exposed my midriff slightly, pink denim shorts, and black and gold sandals. Once I'm dressed, I walk downstairs to meet her so we can go. But apparently, I'm "not ready yet". She secures a good triangle silhouette necklace around my neck and hands me a pair of golden stud pyramid earrings.

"Ok, now you're good." She gives me a double thumbs up. I smile.

I started heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madison appears in front of me. I look at her as if she has 3 heads, and she crosses her arms as to say 'how can you be so blonde?'. I'm brunette.

"You have to fill out a form." She dangles a Manila envelope in front of me. When I hold it, I'm surprised to see how thick it is, the richness of the texture. This must have cost the royals a fortune and a half! As if the Selection wasn't going to be draining them enough!

I grab my best pen, and start to fill it out.

Name: Ainsley Grace Reynolds

Age: 18

Province: Bankston

Caste: Theee

Occupation: Novelist

"Should I put down that I'm going to college?" I ask Madison, who was leaning over my shoulder.

"Sure, it can only help." I add to occupation I'll be attending Duszton Tech in the fall.

Hair Color: Dark chestnut brown

Eye Color: Brown

"Make sure you put down that you have freckles." Madison reminds me.

Skin Tone: Fair, dark freckles

Height: 5'3"

Weight: 110 lbs

Languages Spoken: English, Spanish, French, a lot of Italian, some Portuguese, Sign

I had always been proud of all of the languages I've learned over the years. It was a fascination for me. I was fluent in English and Spanish by 5, it took another year and a half to learn French, I'm almost perfect in Italian, and fair at Portuguese, but my mom wanted to take a break from language learning after French. She thought that two was good enough. But when Charlotte Zamner came to our school, and she was deaf, I knew that I needed to learn sign too.

Hobbies: Writing, reading, playing guitar, learning languages, daydreaming, stargazing

Madison reads over my form before we head to the Service Office.

"Would you stop being so thorough? It's almost annoying." Something inside me deflates, but I try to pick myself up.

"Better than not having enough, I guess." I will never be as good as Madison at comebacks, which is quite unfortunate really.

"Fine."

The first thing that we notice when we head to the Service Office to drop off my form was that there weren't too many people at this hour. Lucky them. I thought. They get to sleep in….

But the line grows bigger with every passing minute, and soon the line goes almost around the block! Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of my friends, Rebecca Braun get into line, dressed effortlessly to perfection, her auburn hair in an intricate updo. Immediately I'm jealous.

There's no way I'm going to get in when they have REBECCA! I feel pained. If they have the option, they're going to pick the girl that's prettier. Funnier. More clever. Talented. More popular. And Rebecca was all of those things.

Madison watches my line of vision.

"Don't worry about it. You have the same shot she does." She gives my hand a squeeze.

I smiled wide as the cameraman took my picture. Here's my shot.

"PLEASE Penny!" my foster-sister Lacey begs. I refuse to give and she's getting frustrated.

"I still don't even understand why!" I yell, exasperated.

"You can't possibly expect me to enter the Selection alone!"

"Why not!?"

She huffs. "Not everyone's as independent as you Penelope Foster."

"And don't I know it." I smile smugly.

"Penny come on!"

"Nope!" I quip over my shoulder as I go to grab an apple or something.

"PENELOPE ELIZABETH FOSTER I SWEAR IF YOU DO NOT SIGN UP FOR THE SELECTION I WILL MAKE SURE YOU ARE PUT BACK IN THE SYSTEM." She yells for roughly half of Fennley to hear. I'm not sure if it's an empty threat or not, but I'm not even sure I can take that risk.

"Fine." I growl. The system was indescribable, except for maybe Hell. Normally they send you off to some random stranger and hope that they don't murder you. I've been used as a slave, starved, hit, and ignored for weeks at a time. I just remember being so guarded when I came to live with the Scotts. It had to have been a couple months until they won me over. They've kind of adopted me, but that takes a whole bunch of legal stuff and keeping me as a foster kid was just easier when they knew they weren't going to give me up. Plus, the money isn't hurting. Hey! They need something to pay for college!

"Wait really?" Lacey jumps up and down, squealing.

"Just shut up."

"Ok, ok. My lips are sealed!" she runs to her chestnut saddlebag and pulls out two manila envelopes.

"What are those?"

"Selection forms! Duh!" She tells me, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She tosses one to me, plus a pen, and we unfold them to fill them out.

Name: Penelope Elizabeth Foster

Age: 16

Province: Fennley

Caste: 7

Occupation: Foster child/ newspaper reporter

Hair Color: Light chestnut brown

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Tone: Fair

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 130 pounds

Languages Spoken: English and French

Hobbies: Reading, writing, singing

Lacey looks over my form for approval. She laughs at my last hobby.

"You are not putting that down!" I do love to sing, but that doesn't mean that I'm even remotely good at it. In fact on a scale of 1 to 10, one being the worst, I think I was a -27.

"Too bad. It's pen, its not like you can erase it." She sticks her tongue out playfully at me, and I laugh in response.

"You know that I would never actually give you up right?" Lacey drawls as we stand in a 5 million hour line to get our pictures taken. "I wanted a sister so badly! It took forever to get Dad on board, but Mom was ecstatic!" This all makes sense. Lori (mom) actually does feel like my mom, even though I was 12 when they took me in, but Jim… I don't know, he just doesn't feel like my dad. Most of the time he pretends I don't exist; not that he's ever around anyway. Maybe if he were an elementary school teacher like Mom, and not some fancy pants surgeon who works around the clock, he wouldn't pretend I was invisible. Maybe I would be comfortable calling him Dad instead of Jim.

"I know." I mumble. "Don't ever threaten that again though, ok? I was legitimately freaked out. I mean, that's taking my entire livelihood away. I don't know if I can live being a 7 when I've spent the last 5 years as a 3!"

"Oh right! Sometimes I completely forget you're a 7! They're all sloppy and dangerous and uneducated, and you're the exact opposite!" I know it was supposed to be a compliment, but it kind of hurt. This is the only time I didn't like Lacey, she could be really stuck up without even trying. "Plus, who would I have to play dress up with all day?" She flashes me a wink. "By the way that outfit looks adorable on you! Mint is the PERFECT color for you! It brings out your eyes!" Lacey was clearly convinced that I was her Barbie doll and picked out my entire outfit, AND did my hair and makeup. But at least she has talent at it. She's stuck in between 2 fashion castes: Personal Stylist (4) and Fashion Designer (2). If she made it to the Elite and got bumped up to a 2, there's no doubt in my mind she'd be a fashion designer. Lacey had dressed me in my favorite white lace top and paired it with a mint pair of shorts. She let me pick out accessories (with her approval) and I chose chestnut leather sandals and a worn faded gold key necklace. She strained my already naturally strait chestnut hair and left it down, and applied small cats eyes and light pink lip-gloss. "And your hair looks best strait, and your eyes with cats eyes. And-"

"Wait, why are you telling me this?"

"When I marry Prince Carter and become queen, I'll have a country to run! I have to tell you this now in case I forget!"

"Ah, so you're dead set on being Selected huh?"

"Uh hu. I've dreamed of the Selection since I was 6 and learned what it was! You know that!"

"I wasn't even with you when you were 6." I point out.

"You know what, that's true. You get a pass on that one." She straitens her dress. "Do I look ok?" Lacey probably picked out her outfit weeks ago. She coordinated it to perfection: a strapless carnation pink dress with an expandable bust and white sewn detailing, a silver dream catcher necklace, a parallelogram silhouette silver bracelet and white pair of embellished thong sandals. She made me redo her long blonde hair 50 million times before it was in "the perfect fishtail". Her brown eyes were brought out by eyeliner and mascara, and a bit of light eye shadow and lip-gloss tied everything together. She looked like one of the Selected already! I made sure to tell her just that.

"You think so?" She beamed.

"Of course! If you don't get chosen I don't know who will!" She coos and hugs me.

"Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best sister ever!"

...

"Hello, welcome to Sundown. Party for 6?" I ask the group in front of me.

"Yes please." said the woman courteously. It was so easy to see that the group was a family: the woman has streaks of grey in her red hair, and her husband was almost full out if not for a bit of black mixed in with the white. There was an older teenage boy and a lower-medium aged teenage girl, both with black hair, and two other redheaded boys, one who seemed just younger than the black haired boy and one that was just older than the girl. I picked out 6 menus and told them to follow me as I led them to their table. I told them that I'd be back to check up on them later as my best friend Lillia Hardigan came in to take their order. She had been looking for a job, and a waitress wasn't one of the best, but we paid her well. Anything we can do for my best friend since age 5. Once she had taken their drink order, she came over to me, trying to stifle a laugh.

"They haven't stopped staring at you since you walked away."

"Do I know them?"

She lightly smacks the side of my head. "Stop it with your naïveness!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not a word."

"Ehhhhh! Shut up! That guy likes you!" She motions to the black haired boy.

"No he doesn't! Don't be ridiculous!"

"He thinks your hottttt!" She teases, following me around as I head back by the entrance of my parents restaurant.

"My god could you stop?"

"Nope!" I cover my ears and wait until she walks away.

It wasn't until I came back to ask if they needed anything else that I learned Lillia was right.

"My son and I think that you're simply gorgeous!" The woman exclaims. I feel a thick blush coming on my cheeks.

"Mom!" The boy groans sharply. The woman doesn't seem to care and ignores it.

"Have you signed up for the Selection?"

"No…" I hesitate.

"Ugh you must! You're such a stunning girl, and so polite! Isn't that right Quin, honey?" She asks her husband.

"Quite stunning Olivia." He's quick to agree. I can feel myself becoming more bashful by the second.

"You know, I've always dreamed of having a daughter in the Selection! But my only daughter, Aria, is 15: only a year young! If Theo here was a girl," She points to her raven haired son, "he would definitely be entered!" The boy looks mortified. I know how he feels… "What's your name, darling?"

"Waverly. Waverly Bennett."

"Waverly like the Province?"

"Yes ma'am, it was my mother's maiden name."
"Lady Waverly. Ugh! That just sounds perfect! Doesn't it Quin?"

"Quite perfect Olivia." Her husband agrees again.

"Well, Waverly, you had better sign up for the Selection." She wags a finger at me. "Oh it will be simply wonderful to be able to say that we convinced her to enter the Selection! Won't it be simply wonderful Quin?"

He agrees with her as I take this opportunity to bow out gracefully and leave them to their outlandish ideas.

Me! Just think! Me entering the Selection! That's ludicrous! I roll my eyes and mutter to myself.

"If you don't stop mumbling now you'll never stop." Lillia informs me. I say nothing. "You were there a while, what were you talking about?"

I take a deep breath. "They thought that I should enter the Selection! Isn't that crazy!"

She ponders briefly. "Well, it wouldn't be so crazy…"

"Lillia! Look at me! I'm not Princess material!"

"Don't sell yourself short." she picks up the tray of food my dad just handed her and walks off, leaving me with only my thoughts.

But what if I did enter. What if I get in and fall in love and win. But then what if I don't enter. I can't get in and I don't have to worry about "what if". I'll work at the front counter of my parent's restaurant, or be a hostess or whatever, for the rest of my life. I'll never surf competitively. I'll never leave my province.

Ughhhhhhh! This happens all of the time! For the strangest reason, I have this phobia of missed opportunities, almost like if I don't jump on it I'll miss the rest of my life.

Even if I wasn't to win, I could at least be a 3…. and if I made it to the Elite I'd be a 2. Then I'd be a profession surfer… It wouldn't necessarily be hard to enter the job, my caste is my only obstacle. I laugh to myself. Wesley would kill me if I was a professional surfer and he wasn't, he was the very one who taught me. I smirk a bit. That reason alone makes it almost worth it…

I take a look at the clock: 9:32. I could easily take my break now and be back in like, 20 minutes, right?

I quickly run into the break room and grab the manila envelope I had just received this morning from the trash where I had put it. I begin to fill it out.

Name: Waverly Genevieve Bennett

Age: 18

Province: West Paloma, former California Peninsula

Caste: 4

Occupation: Maître D

Hair Color: Dark-chestnut brown

Eye Color: Medium-light brown

What use does this have? I think. Then it got ridiculous. But I begrudgingly answered every question.

Skin Tone: lightly sun kissed

Height: 5'5"

Weight: 125 pounds

Languages Spoken: English, Spanish

Hobbies: Surfing, reading, playing guitar, running

I quickly change into something a bit prettier than my navy blazer and matching pencil skirt uniform, required by my parents to wear. Not the best for getting my photo taken… I find my light grey and white striped long sleeved shirt and light pink skirt with the bow on the waist and dress myself. I slip on white converse high tops and pull the front of my hair back with a rhinestone clip. Easy. Taking a last look in the mirror, I head out the door.

"One, two, three go!" I take another shot of vodka.

"Woohoo! You're not letting up easy." My friend Lexie Lia remarks. Don't let her job as a lingerie model fool you; Lexie is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. But she can't handle too much alcohol at one time. No one can beat me at a drinking, but Lexie can't even come close.

"Nope. I'd just give up now if I was you."

"Never!"

So we kept up with our drinking game. I won, of course. No one has ever beaten me at drinking. Ever.

My brother Tyler's underground poker club was my usual Saturday night hangout, and tonight was no exception. Guys surrounded us begging for some "fun" (which annoys the Hell out of me) and in the midst of our drinking, my other best friend, sports model Blake Jackson, had gone off to make out with some guy at the club. They could currently be seen, half naked and smushed together, near the slots machine. I knew Lexie wanted to get in on the fun, and she had her selection of very hot and very eager guys displayed every 5 centimeters, but I knew that she wouldn't, even if I asked her. She knew I didn't want to and I would have nothing to do, so even as wasted as she was, she was loyal enough to hold off. Lexie you are the best friend ever.

"So what do you want to do?" She slurs, twisting a strand of blonde hair around her finger. I just shrug. We were both absolutely wasted; it takes almost no alcohol to get her drunk, and I had faced several guys in shots (and beat them all), with Lexie cheering me on, before they all gave up. We were both getting bored and in my experience, that only lead to trouble.

All of a sudden my boob started buzzing. Lexie giggled.

"What's that?" She drawls. I pull out my phone. "Ohhhhh."

I press talk. "Ya?" I mumble. There's no response. "Hello?"

"Ummmm….. Kaiti?"

"Ya?"

"Kaiti Owens don't tell me you're out drinking again! At Tyler's?" I can hear the distress in her voice.

"Mom?" I ask confused.

"No! It's Scarlett!"

"Ohhhhhhhh…. Ya, Tyler's." She groans. "Hold on a sec." I pull the phone from my ear. "It's Scarlett." I tell Lexie. I faintly hear an "ohhhhhhhh" in the background.

"Kaiti? Are you still there?" I hear on the other line.

"Ya."

She sighs. "I'm telling you, you need to get out of there!"

"And leave like you?" I ask, anger tipping into my voice.

"Well… yes."

"No!"

"Come on! You're a better person than this!" She knows…. that's the only thing that could even close to get me into doing what she wants. And being so drunk… no better time. "Hello?"

"What do you want?" I growl at her.

She takes a huge breath. "I want you to enter the Selection."

"Huh? Why?"

"It could be your ticket out! It would be great publicity for your blog-"

"Fashion vlogs." I correct her.

"Right, great publicity!" She continues. "It would provide you with a safe environment, and it would be good to be sober a bit. But most importantly, it will give you better influence and you'll be a better person! You need to lead by example!"

I scoff. "You mean like you did?" She hesitates.

"Think about it, ok?"

I snap my phone off.

"So, want to enter the Selection?"

"Ya! Sure!" Lexie giggles.

"OK, we need to back to my house, we have the forms, one of them is Scarlett's and she moved."

"Ok!"

It takes some digging around our empty mansion before I find 2 thick manila forms addressed to me and my sister. I get 2 pens from a drawer and click mine open.

Name: Kaitlyn Madison Owens

Age: 18

Province: Sumner

Caste: 2

Occupation: Fashion Vlogger

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 5'4

Weight: 130 lbs

Languages Spoken: English, French

Hobbies: Designing, vlogging,

"Is what I'm wearing ok?" I ask her. I didn't change from clubbing, a black dress with sheer lines, almost like stripes, tall black heels which seemed to go with my dress well, onyx square shaped drops, and my hair was up in a messy ponytail. Perfect for clubbing, but for signing up for the Selection?

Lexi giggles. "Yeah!" Who am I kidding? There's no chance I'll get in, so who cares? "Me?" Lexie's wearing a black crop top and a bright pink pencil skirt with sky high heels, designed by the model herself.

"Perfect. Ok, lets go!" We take our forms and walk to the town hall, where we had to wait in an hour line. It's honestly grueling.

"This was not a good idea." She tells me. We're getting impatient.

"Oh well, we made it this far."

She laughs wistfully. "I'm never getting drunk again."

Needless to say we were drunk again the next night.

OK GUYS! Hope you liked it!

Ainsley is the work of ScarlettBrinnleyBrookson

Penny was done by jenhen48

Waverly was written by my good friend Thirteenth17

Kaiti is written by my OTHER good friend Demigod-Gallagher-Selected.

THANKS FOR SUBMITTING!

Keep sending me Apps guys! No more 2s or 3s if possible, as many lower caste girls as possible. And I think I want 3 8s, so send me 8s!

LOVE YOU GUYS!

-Lily