Angeles, Illéa
My palms were sweating as I stood inside the luxurious foyer of the palace. I was nervous—hell I was even terrified—for my Selection. How would I handle this? There'll will be thirty-five boys and my mom went through the same thing, she had to watch the disappointment and arguments and drama and loyalties set aside over the crown. Plus, I was only seventeen. Why should I be so concerned about marriage right now, anyway?
It didn't matter though, I still held my hands together as boys stepped inside, making their grand entrances. My immediate thoughts were how attractive the occasion boy was, but nothing else. Not love at first sights moments I grew up learning about in stories. That's all they are—stories. Just fictional things that can't happen in real life.
When I chose these contenders with River, they were just names on paper and a caste number tacked to them. Nothing else. Let's see if there's a person underneath those numbers.
The boy I vaguely remember as Grant Winchester—a Two of class and sophistication—materialized and I heard cheers erupting from the crowds. I wonder who the favorite is, I laughed inside my head. Glaring in his direction, I decided that I wanted to see what he really is behind that pretty rich-boy exterior.
Let the Selection begin.
SELECTION #5 INTERVIEWS - Angeles, Illéa
BOY #1: Devon Adams
Me: Are you prepared?
Devon: I guess so.
River: You don't sound so sure, Dakota, I think he's—
Me: Calm down, River, God. . .so Devon. . .um, *glances at clipboard containing appropriate selection questions* why did you decide to enter the Selection? God, sorry, that's so cliche.
Devon: No, no you're fine, Your Majesty. Well, there's not much to say. I'm a Four. My parents are farmers and I just don't fit in there. I can't stand barns and farms, ya feel me? I don't want to live there anymore just, ugh no. . .
River: Get out, now.
Me: Dammit, River! Ugh, sorry, this is my first interview and I didn't practice I figured I could wing it and I'm making run-on sentences sorry.
Devon: Yeah, you may be cute but you're way too awkward.
Me: Get out.
River: I told you.
Devon: *Stands up and rolls his eyes*
some time later. . . .
BOY #7: Austin Castellano
Me: So, Austin *I mastered the art of composure and lost my awkwardness hell yes*
River: *whispers* I don't like him already, he's wearing a fedora what a pretentious little—
Me: *elbows River in the stomach*
Austin: So?. . .questions?
Me: What caste are you from? And Province?
Austin: I'm a three from Kent.
Me: Isn't there a feuding war there?
Austin: Yeah, some people are evacuating but it's not even that bad.
River: Not sure how I feel about you. . .
Me: Stay out of this. *turns to Austin* So, any notes about the war?
River: Maybe he knows nothing.
Me: SHH he can speak for himself.
Austin: It's nothing to get worked up about, seriously, I swear. I shouldn't even be talking about it anyway.
Me: Are all boys this dense?
River: Well I think he can take his nothing and shove it up his—
Me: HEY NO profanity in the interview room!
Austin: Are sure this is even an interview? Like, asking me hobbies and interests? Why is that guy here anyway? He isn't supposed to be—
River: *stands up* I'm done, Dakota, get him out.
Me: Hey, there's still ten seconds before the initial five minutes of interview is up. . .hey look there ya go, leave.
Austin: *doesn't look back*
BOY #16: Leonardo Kravitz
DMe: Caste? *tries to contain composure over the stunningly attractive boy*
Leo: Five.
Me: Oh like my mom—uh—the queen-majesty-highness-person-thing. . .
River: She's obviously torn by your good looks. . .so. . .you got some kind of criminal record or something?
Me: RIVER!
Leo: I don't have any kind of—
River: We can play good cop bad cop but I can't guarantee good cop.
Me: Anywayyyyyy. . .you're pretty. . .*dammit, Dakota, you're as deep as a bird bath*
River: I'll try normal, average, questions. . .so, you got hobbies?
Leo: I'm named for Leonardo da Vinci.
River: Was he the navigator or cardiologist?
Me: *facepalm* Neither, River, don't you ever study your history?
River: No, I had to learn to do chores, I'm a seven remember?
Leo: Okay so this is getting nowhere.
Me: He's like that in every interview. I have no idea why.
River: Well screw you both. . .
Leo: *snickers*
Me: What's so funny?
Me: We've been in here for three minutes and all I know is your caste, name is Leonardo, and something about art I guess.
Leo: Basically. Fives are average. I have four other siblings; one is Melody, one is Gia, one is Emmy, and my brother is Michael.
Me: Like Michelangelo?
Leo: Yup.
Me: Yeah, my aunt May is actually an artist, so is my other uncle Gerad. . .
Leo: Time's up.
Me: Oh yeah the timer. Good time talking, bye Leonardo!
Leo: Please don't call me by my first name.
BOY #18: Nathan Matthews
Nathan: Hello, I'm uh—Nathan—but uh you can call me. . .Nathan.
River: *opens mouth*
Me: *places my hand on top to stop him*
Me: When you speak it lowers the IQ of the entire room, River.
River: Mhmm rgh htt mmg, Dkta.
Me: yeah yeah, lovely weather we're having, so Nate, what's you caste? Your home province? What do you do as a part of your caste? Siblings? Age?
Nate: *hesitates* Um, Three. Carolina. I'm going into the biology field. Only child. I'm eighteen.
River: He's older than you.
Me: Really now? *rolls eyes* I didn't know. Nate you sound utterly fascinating. It's been half a minute but what else?
Nate: I'm pretty uninteresting.
River: Yeah you sorta are—
Me: Riverrrr—Nate, you're great. Holy eff, that rhymed!
River: Congrats, Dakota, you understand the basic of words. When is this over? I want lunch.
Me: Calm down you'll get lunch.
Nate: Do you have anymore questions?
Me: *glances at clipboard full of orthodox questions* How about. . .what inspired you to join the Selection?
Nate: Well. . .my father lost his job as an English professor and my mother decided, why not? She was quite optimistic for her own good but there she was so here I am.
Me: Fascinating. . . plans if you become king?
Nate: The caste system stays. It contains order and serenity.
Me: *sighs* I guess it does.
River: Dakota are you fuc—
Me: *covers his mouth again* No profanity, River.
River: mhmmm ghbm dmn
Dakota: Nevermind him. . .bye Nate!
Nate: Forgot there was a time, you're such a sweetheart. Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.
Dakota: Call me Dakota, I hate formal titles.
BOY #31: Grant Winchester
Me: Oh look, it's Grant—WAKE UP RIVER! *slaps him*
River: WhaT—
Me: Was it really necessary to sleep right now?
Grant: I see you have your hands full should I come back another time—?
Me: NO! I mean, no, Winchester. I am free. Just let us begin. *I try to examine Grant in a subtle fashion*
Grant: So, like what you see? *cocky grin*
River: You can take your pretty boy and shove it up your—
Me: Do I need a frying pan I WILL not hesitate to knock you out.
Grant: And I'll help too.
Me: I'm stalling again, aren't I?. . .Grant. I know you're mother is an actress and beauty extraordinaire; while you're father is a notorious politician from Clermont. Am I correct?
Grant: Yes.
Me: You're a Two, born in Clermont, and you're an only child. You are a model *I glance at his incredible features, hot damn*, and you are close to having an acting career?
Grant: *cue laugh* I think you know more about me than I do of myself.
Me: When you're the heiress, you get things. *I say casually but there's really a subtle threat behind it*
Grant: Damn straight, which is why I want the crown.
Me: Why did you join the Selection?
Grant: We Winchesters know power and fame. Why not spread our fame through the rest of Illéa?
Me: Very well then. Um, hobbies?
Grant: I don't think I should tell you.
Me: *I'm failing this composure thing help* and why. . . .not?
Grant: It doesn't matter really. . .
Grant: Would you consider going on a date with me? Tomorrow, or the day after.
Me: I—uh—Grant—I'm not—maybe—I have no experience—what?
Grant: I take it you're not experienced with boys? How could that be?
Me: The foreign princes are a bore, only talking about their fifth trophy in polo or measles. And do you see teenage, hormonal boys are just crawling around the palace?
Grant: They are now.
Me: You're infuriating.
Grant: You're attractive.
Me: Playing this game, aren't we? Sorry I'm no man's pawn.
Grant: It's flirting, dear, learn it.
Me: Please, I know everything I need to know about you and your shallow wooing laws.
Grant: 'Shallow wooing laws'?
Me: Yes. You think you can get every girl but you only want the girl you can't have, me.
Grant: Who's the cocky one now, sweetheart?
Me: And I thought I was the only princess in the room.
River: God you two are about to trigger my gagging reflexes shut the hell up already—
Me: You're done River go, get.
River: No! We have like three or four more left and you've been bickering with Grant for twenty minutes when each interview is supposed to be five minutes long—
Me: So? *oh god I forgot that was this boy really that intriguing?*
Me: *turns to Grant* I'll figure you out, pretty boy.
Grant: I'd like to see you try, princess.
