Hey again! Thank you to all the people who have stuck with us even though we haven't updated for two months (sorry about that). We've just been really busy with school and academics and dance and music and broken computers and the stupidity that is Google and basically just a lot of stuff. Anyway, we hope you like this chapter! We will also be updating next weekend :)

Love ya!- AcademicGirl

xoxo, Lily

Ruthie:

We immediately go to breakfast after the seven girls stay behind to be eliminated. Wait. Seven? I thought eight were eliminated...I decide to disregard it until I check the book later. But the thought tugs and nags at me like a petulant child begging for attention, and I want to shake it off because it is clinging like a burr, but it's persistent and wanting to stay.

I find Violet, and I nudge her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"We just met Maxon," I sing, not voicing my thoughts on the eliminations.

She smiles, but I can tell there's something that's bothering her. Not even bothering her. A bother is an annoying sister stealing your scrunchies (it's really annoying). But the trouble in Violet's eyes looks like this physically taxes her. Does she notice the seven and not eight girls gone too?

"What's wrong?" I ask, just as we enter the Dining Hall. We see King Clarkson and Queen Amberly, and we look at each other with wide eyes and terrified glances.

"I'll tell you later," she whispers, and the she leaves to find her seat.

I take my seat from the night before—between Celeste and Tallulah—and Silvia promptly enters and mentions we must curtsy. We all do so, and the queen welcomes us warmly. She's really beautiful. She's not just aesthetically pleasing, but she radiates a kind of happiness that makes people want to smile.

We all sit down, and the servers bring our food to us. It smells absolutely wonderful. My mother's a really good cook—and I can't help but miss her and my dad all of a sudden—but the food smells so wonderful. There's a difference in home food and here food. I'm used to good-tasting food at home, but when food tastes good and my mother didn't cook it, I get giddy.

Everyone's reactions to the food is different. It's mostly a satisfied "mm," and then there's Celeste. She looks rather smug as she pokes her food, while Tallulah just looks relieved to still be here. I scope the tables for America, and she is devouring that thing. Like, you'd think they starved her or something.

Wait. That's not funny.

A few minutes later, Maxon enters the room. I wasn't planning on getting up anyway, because I already know he's going to tell us not to get up, but others start to push their chairs out.

"Please don't rise, ladies. Enjoy your breakfasts."

That's exactly what I'm going to do, Maxon.

I observe his movements and admire how he kisses his mother on the cheek and his father a pat on the back. I try to take my eyes off him as I eat, so I end up looking at my food then at him then back again. It must look a bit odd to see me looking at my eggs and the prince like they're playing a very intriguing tennis match.

He talks to Justin, the butler, and I take a strawberry tart. I have to try these. Strawberry tarts are iconic and symbolic. I must eat one.

And so I do. And it melts in my mouth, and there is not a care in the world. But one look at Violet's face makes me think otherwise. There is a slight frown forming, and it troubles me to see her perturbed. We're in the Selection! We met Prince Maxon!

What could possibly be wrong?

My mind defers the thought when I hear Maxon's deep voice say, quietly but clearly, "Lady America?"

Heads turn like spinning tea cups, and I take a sip of my tea, grinning at Violet across the room. For the first time since the beginning of breakfast, she smiles surreptitiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" America replies, her voice quavering after she swallows her food.

"How are you enjoying the food?" I can see the laughter waiting to exude from Maxon, and I'm on the verge of giggling myself. I wiggle an eyebrow to Vi, and she covers her mouth with her hand.

Maxon's eyes shift to us for a moment, but I look down at my food and make my face as passive and stoical as possible. I look up after a millisecond to Violet, but she's not looking at me anymore. Actually, she's back to looking worried again.

So Maxon and America make their bet. America mentions wearing pants, and we laugh, but mine's a bit forced. As much as I'm trying to forget whatever issue Violet has in mind, the predicament sticks in my mind like a persistent moth lingering by a fire.

Violet:

I step out of the bath, smelling like roses and whatever other sweet smelling things Lily put in the water. It's almost nine at night, and I still haven't been able to talk to Ruthie about anything. When I returned to my room, I think my maids noticed my obvious anxiety, and thought that the best way to help was a long bath. All that really accomplished was turning my fingers and toes into prunes.

With a plush towel wrapped tightly around myself, I dodge out of the bathroom quickly before my maids try to pamper me even more. Right now, all I really want to do is curl up in bed and read a book.

Susie's face falls in disappointment when I decline her offer to blow dry my hair. For some reason, I've always despised hair dryers; I think I'm just too impatient to stand there while I try to speed up something that's going to happen eventually anyways. To her dismay, I tie my hair in a bun atop my head, and leave it there to dry, knowing that when I take it out, my hair will fall in loose waves around my face. I have to assure Susie that my hair will be fine about seven times before she finally accepts it and settles down in a chair with a book in her lap. I still find it kind of weird that I have to sleep with a babysitter watching my every move, but as long as my maids are comfortable, I am too. Lily and Ella bid us goodnight and leave to get some sleep of their own. Throwing a quick glance at Susie, I snag my phone from where it's stashed under my pillow and head into the bathroom. I close the door tightly, and lean against the cool marble of the sink. Unlocking my phone, I click on Ruthie's contact and type a quick message.

Me: Can you sneak out and come to my room? Need to tell you something. It's important.

Ruthie: Yeah no problem. Be there in 5.

I exhale a sigh of relief, and pace the length of the bathroom, the soft material of my slippers making no sound against the cold tiled floor. In the middle of a pace, I happen to glance up and catch my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair is falling out of my bun, strands loose around my face. The reflection of my brown eyes stare back at me, full of worry. The reason I've always admired America Singer so much is because of her strength and confidence. I hate feeling weak, helpless, and useless, and this situation is definitely making me feel exactly that. I don't want to change this story, and I don't want to mess it up. Who knows? Ruthie and I could have already drastically changed someone's, albeit fictional, life. I hate not knowing what's happening. Taking a deep breath, I try to channel my inner America Singer. I straighten my robe, brush the pieces of hair out of my eyes, and splash some cool water onto my face.

Less than two minutes later, Ruthie's at my door, and I almost laugh at the fact that she's wearing a pink, girly nightgown. She never wears anything but sweatpants to bed. Susie stands and begins to curtsy, but I wave that aside.

"Susie, would you mind if Lady Ruthie and I speak in private? You're free to go back to your quarters tonight, if you'd like."

"Oh, Lady Olivia, I don't think-"

"It's fine with me. Really, I just need to speak with Lady Ruthie, and I'm not sure how long it will take. I don't want you waiting up for me all night."

She hesitates, obviously torn between her duties and my orders. "I'll come back up in an hour, miss. I wouldn't want you to be put in danger."

"Alright, Susie, thank you."

As soon as she leaves the room, I grab Ruthie's arm and pull her inside. Her presence alone gives me solace, and for a moment I wonder if I'm completely overreacting. I do have a tendency to freak out over nothing, but then again, this could potentially be a serious problem.

"Thank God you're here," I sigh, leaning against the wall facing my bed. "I've been waiting to talk to you all day."

"Okay, what's up?" Ruthie says, walking over to my bed and sitting down, facing me. "Any problems? Any new strategies? You looked kind of pale at breakfast."

"Ruthie, I always look pale. I'm practically a vampire," I say, rolling my eyes. "But… yeah. We do have a problem. This morning… Well, I noticed something kind of odd," I start, trying to figure out how to explain what we both previously thought impossible. "I was sitting next to this girl named Laila, you know, that girl with the curly blonde hair?"

"Sure," she responds hesitantly, clearly trying to figure out why this is important. "Why?"

"Well, in the book, during that first meeting, there were eight girls eliminated in the first round. This time there were only seven."

Ruthie's expression scrunches up as she tries to remember the specifics of this morning. "Okay…"

"That was because of me. Laila was never supposed to get past the first round, but I guess I gave her some advice and it helped her. She was so tense and stiff, and I felt so bad for her that I-"

"Typical Violet, always trying to solve everyone else's problems for them," Ruthie smirks, rearranging the pillows beneath her so she can sink into the luxurious bed more comfortably.

"I was just trying to help!"

"I know, I know."

"Anyways, I think she must have done something differently, and -"

"Are you sure you counted right?" she interrupts again.

"Yes, I'm sure. Laila was definitely supposed to be one of the first to go. I don't know, maybe Maxon liked that she was more genuine, and -"

"Maxon! We never got to talk about our meetings with Maxon! How did yours go? It seemed like he liked you. Weren't his eyes just so -"

"Ruthie, could you let me finish a sentence?!" I exclaim. My anxiety finally peaks, and I can't hold it in any longer. Ruthie's cheeks turn pink, and I immediately feel guilty. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak out. I'm just really worried about this."

"No, I get it, we can talk about Maxon later. What is it?"

"Anyways, Laila loosened up and she made it past the first round because of something I said. This means… it means that anything we do, simple words, or any actions we take could impact the story. Ruthie… we can change the story without even knowing it."

I finish, and look at Ruthie, waiting for some kind of response. I don't know what I'm searching for, but I expect some kind of panic that reflects mine. Not that I want her to freak out, but I think I would feel a lot better freaking out if we were freaking out together.

Instead, she bursts into hysterical laughter.

"You're kidding, right?" she giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Um, no."

Ruthie laughs again, but her giddiness diminishes when she sees the expression on my face.

I stare at her, confused.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking!?"

Ruthie's face falls stoic, now that the reality of the damage we could cause to this whole world has set in. "So you think we could mess up the story? Like… mess up Maxon and America being together?"

I sit next to her on the bed, flop onto my back, and cover my face with my hands. "I don't know. And I don't know why we're here, or how, or if we can even get back to our own world. So basically, I don't know anything."

It's quiet for a moment, as both of our minds are spinning with this new information. Then I can hear Ruthie's labored, hyperventilating breaths, and I pop up. Sure, I was pretty panicked before she came here, but I didn't really mean to make her panicked, too. I scoot over next to her, and nudge her with my shoulder.

"Hey, okay, I know I made it sound like we're doomed, but we can get through this. We just need teamwork. I didn't mean to stress you out or anything."

She nods, taking a minute to get her breathing back to normal. Impulsively, I wrap my arms around her, and she returns the gesture. We stay like that for a little while. It strikes me how small Ruthie and I are, just two girls stuck in this huge, unknown universe.

But at least we're stuck here together.