Arietta
The truth is, I was beginning to regret entering the Selection. I'd entered it for adventure-an escape from my wonderfully dull life. But it was four days before the names are revealed, and all I felt was a dull ache instead of excitement.
As a lowly seamstress, people-ahem, ex-Two's-seemed to think that I couldn't hear them-which was insulting, but played to my advantage. I had all the inside news about the Selection before the tabloids did, and all because I sat prettily sewing without making a sound.
That makes me sound so manipulative, but I don't regret it. They deserve it-the Castes may have been dissolved half a century ago, but it seems that the country's stuck in a rut. I come from Sixes, I'm a seamstress. There's a model from Likely, she's descended from Twos. Dissolving the Castes did nothing, it just took away the label. You think that all ex-Two movie stars, sportsmen and models quit their jobs because they were no longer Twos? Of course not. Do you think every ex-Seven instantly rose up to become a teacher or an artist or whatever? Uh, no.
But now is not the time to start being anarchist, especially since I entered a competition for the hand of a prince.
Living in Zuri is terrible. It's hot. It's stuffy. And when it rains, it's a downpour. If I won, I'd probably try to convince a bunch of ex-Threes to build me a weather machine just for Zuri. I'd also eat. A lot.
"Penny for your thoughts, Ari?" My dad asked. I'd zoned out during lunch, and he looked genuinely concerned. He should be. I work ten hours a day, every day.
"Oh, I was just wondering about the Selection!" I forced out a smile and looked back down at my small plate of rice as my sister Moanna began a conversation about Princess Bellona, who's her age. Niko, her twin, muttered something about 'stupid princesses', and put his plate away. Four more days. I could hardly say the suspension was killing me.
Imogen
"So, Imy, spill. Excited about the Selection?" Tally asked, her dark blue eyes wide. I shrugged, trying to avoid the question. Don't get attached, don't get attached, don't get attached...
"Aw, come on, Imogen! You have to have some kind of opinion, or you'd be just like those sheep you work with." Skye teased. I rolled my eyes.
"Okay, A) It's cattle, and 2) We don't know much about the guy, do we? I've only ever seen him on the Report, and he doesn't exactly say much. He's physically attractive, sure, but I can't form an opinion if I barely know what he sounds like!" Skye nodded, because she entered the Selection as well. Tally wasn't allowed, because she's needed to work.
"You said A then 2." Tally pointed out, breaking the slightly awkward silence.
"I know," I grinned. Then I pretended to check my watch.
"Sorry, guys, gotta go to work. See you later!" I called, already walking away to find my best friend-my real friend-Robyn.
OoO
"You shouldn't have ditched them like that." No, not my mother. Robyn. I rolled my eyes at the redhead, and jumped off the fence we were sitting on. Correction-lowered my feet. Normal people jump. I'm 6'0. I'm special. Robyn just rolled her eyes at me.
"Show off. Humility is a virtue." I smirked.
"And envy is a sin. You're just jealous because you have to jump." Robyn stuck her tongue out at me and jumped down gracefully-something I was super jealous of, as being tall meant I was about as graceful as a hippopotamus.
"I have to get to work." Robyn worried, checking her watc frantically. I sighed.
"You work too hard."
"You have no ambition."
"Ooh, touché." I gave her another smile, and we took our separate ways.
Janus
My mother was constantly chiding me for not working hard enough. I was okay with that. I didn't mind being criticised. Just not in front of Bellona.
"You really should pay more attention to detail,' Bellona scolded, 'It's like you don't care about the colour scheme!"
She went on and on. And when it wasn't Bellona, it was mom. And when it wasn't mom, it was Delilah, the tutor of etiquette for both my sister and the Selected.
All in all, my Selection was looking quite miserable. My fourteen year-old sister would be the one picking my wife at this rate, I thought. In case you're wondering, that would not have been pretty. Bellona knows my pet hates, and she'd end up picking a girl with all of hose traits somehow combined.
Don't ask how. Bellona's special that way.
Erebus had been expelled from his fancy school in the German Federation. Apparently, he'd thrown a fit over how well his floor was polished, and broke two vases and a mirror.
We have to be the first dysfunctional royal family in history-the eighteen year old doesn't want to be king, the sixteen year old got expelled and the fourteen year old is a dictator.
It reminded me of one of those ridiculous movies that ex-Twos made, except those films usually don't involve the royal family.
Moving on, I still found it hilarious that people thought I cared about how many maids to each room or the amount of courses for dinner or whether there should be afternoon tea or not.
I mean, seriously? What kind of eighteen year old guy actually cares about that kind of stuff unless they're a party planner or something?
Besides, I had my own priorities-how would I pick the girls? And what if I was actually gay? Or what if one of the girls was lesbian? Since nobody else seemed to care about these questions, I made it my priority to answer them whilst avoiding Bellona.
Note to self-do not try to avoid said little sister by pretending to be a butler.
Well, I tried.
Arietta was submitted by Ayana Emmett, and Imogen was submitted by Thedaffodilqueen. Auf Weidersen!