Going Back To The One Chapter 7
Me: Hi! Here's the chapter everyone's been waiting for! MAXON SEES AMERICA!
This is INSANELY LONG I had no idea how I managed writing it.
And… this is the probably the chapter where everyone will now go back to the old days and buy some torches and pitch forks and stalk me and find my address just so you guys can kill me.
Why, you ask?
You have to read and find out!
Disclaimer – I don't own the Selection Trilogy, it belongs to the wonderful Kiera Cass!
o-o-o
America's POV
~Wednesday morning~
"For the 12th time," I tell May who was loudly fidgeting on her chair as I brushed her hair. "The fact that Prince Maxon is coming to my workplace today is not bothering me."
She looks up at me and I raise my wooden brush. The look in her eyes make me let out a sigh. "Please, please don't tell me you're still not convinced."
She shakes her head, giving me a solid, "Nope." She swings her legs under the chair. "It's not like a few years have passed since you left the palace. In fact, you haven't even surpassed a whole month. Are you sure you have forgotten Maxon by now?"
"I have a fiancé, May."
"I only have two things to say to you. One, you didn't answer my question and two; Aspen won't be out of the draft for 4 years. Don't tell me you're willing to wait that long."
I mess the hair I've been brushing and May's lips form a pout. "That's just what happens when you're in love." I stare at my hand and imagine a gem on a gold band encircling one of my fingers. "You don't care how long the story goes, as long as you know you'll get your happily ever after in the end."
"That is so sweet." She coos. "I can't wait to find love like that." She stares at the ceiling dreamily.
"Don't you even think about it." I pinch her nose, hoping that the romantic image she's forming in her mind would disappear. "Maybe when you're of legal age."
"Ouch!" She winces and rubs her nose. "But that seems unfair. You and Aspen got together when you were 15."
"You're 14."
"So I can get a boyfriend when I turn 15?"
I try to think of a rebuttal when a new voice comes through our bedroom door. "Who's going to get a boyfriend?" it asks.
May and I swallow hard.
It was Dad.
"N-No one!" May stutters. "I don't like any of the boys my age anyway." She raises her shoulders and gives Dad an unconvincing grin.
Dad lets out a fake sigh of relief. "Good, I still have one single daughter left." He laughs and we join him a minute later. I notice 4 envelopes he's holding behind his back.
May asks about it before I do. "Dad, what's that?" She asks, pointing at his hand.
He fans himself with the envelopes. "Oh these? These are letters from the palace." He answers. "They're for you, America."
I stand up quickly and snatch the letters from his hands. May chases after me and jumps, trying to read the information on the envelopes. "Who are they from? Who are they from?" She asks repeatedly.
I held the envelopes like a set of cards and read the writers of each one.
"They're from Aspen, Mary, Anne and Lucy!" I tell her excitedly.
"Open them!"
She didn't even have to tell me. I grab one end of the envelope and I slowly rip open Aspen's letter and—
My mom comes storming in.
"America Singer!" She yells, her eyebrows furrowed. "It's 7:15! What kind of teacher is late for her own class?!"
"Oh dang, I got to go!" I grab hold of my brown leather backpack and guitar case, tucking the letters in my front bag pocket.
May frowns and whines. "But the letters—!"
"When I get home!" I say, running out the door.
"You better not read any of them without me!"
"Got it!"
"Hurry up!" My mom demands as she pushes me as I walk down the stairs. "The taxi won't lower its tax if you keep it waiting."
I scramble down the stairs and run out the house, the taxi driver waiting beside the open passenger door.
I get in and the driver closes the door.
Once we're driving, I let myself listen to my heart pound in my chest from extreme anxiety. I couldn't look nervous in front of May because she'll know she's right. . Even if he isn't coming until tomorrow, Maxon visiting is botheringme.
No, erase that. It's terrifying me. What will happen when we see each other? My attitude toward him during our last meeting wasn't so… polite. He's still the prince after all. What if he uses his authority to get back at me?
Stop being so worried America, I tell myself quietly. You love Aspen and he loves Kriss. He probably forgot about you anyway. Everything between you is now reduced to nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
I insert my hand in my bag's pocket and feel Aspen's letter. A sense of relief calms me as it goes through my body. I want to read it now but it's obvious that May will complain once she finds out. I kiss the tips of my fingers and put them on his letter, secretly hoping that through the oceans and skies that separate us, he'll still feel my love for him.
o-o-o
~At school~
"There is nothing in the handbook that says that my students can't practice their recital just because you want them to 'shut the hell up'." I say, crossing my arms against my chest.
"My students are taking a test right now and that hell of a prince isn't enough reason for you to disturb us." The offender replies. "And mocking my voice doesn't change that."
I let out a sigh and lean on the closed classroom door. We only had three days to prepare for a number for the coming of the prince and we only have one day left before we have to go on stage.
Even with the limited time I have, I'm wasting precious minutes on arguing with the school's Math teacher who claims that it is against school rules to disturb one's class with "ugly" and "unnecessary" music.
He's only older than me by 4 years yet his hair is a light gray with brownish tips. He has gray eyes that are filled with anger as they glare into mine. He has always seemed to have an inborn hatred toward me.
Flashback:
~The first time we met, during the teachers' orientation…~
I scan the front row for remaining seats. I take the 2nd seat to the right. As I was lowering into that chair, I felt a hand hold me on the shoulder and push me, causing me to land on the chair beside the one I intended to sit on. I almost fell over as I let out a scream. Good thing I gripped the chair and shifted my weight so my feet would touch the floor. I whip my head up see him glaring at me with a huge grin on his face.
"I'm sorry, but I really wanted that seat," he says, sitting down beside me.
I take a deep breath and put on a forced smile. I could feel my eyebrow twitching. "I-It's all yours."
~In the hallway~
I had a stack of music sheets in my hands that I was supposed to hand out to my students. The pile was almost more than half of my height and I was having trouble balancing it. A piece of paper floats away from the pile and slowly falls on the floor, making its way to Sir Moods' feet.
"Can you get that please?" I ask as politely as I could. "My hands are kind of full right now."
His eyes trail from the paper on the floor to me. He does that more than three times and his eyes stay on mine.
"It's 'may' you get that please." He corrects me and just walks.
He just walks away just like that! How rude!
Especially when he steps on the paper, leaving a big dirty footprint on it! And how dare he correct my grammar like that? He's a Math teacher. Not an English teacher.
I take a few steps forward and I slip on the stray music sheet, causing me to fall on my back as I watch the music sheets fall like autumn leaves.
I hear his dreaded laugh and I just want to jam all these papers down his throat.
((A/N: Yes, even teachers bully each other. I can think of much more humorous examples but I have to get back to the story now.))
End of Flashback
The feeling has become mutual.
"For your information, Sir Moods, this recital is a special request from the principal." I say. "I am not enjoying this crammed performance any less than you do."
Sir Moods snorts. "Yeah, right." There was a joking tone in his voice that makes me want to strangle him. "You just think that if your precious Prince Maxon sees your beautiful," he says the word in the most disgusting way possible, "performance; he'll beg you to come back."
My face is frozen in a shocked expression. The only thing moving on my face is the visible tears forming in my eyes.
He laughs as he sees it and keeps talking. "I guess that's how much you useless women are desperate for money and power. You have no shame don't y—"
A hand slaps him across the face.
Mine.
I watch his left cheek swell and turn into a bright shade of red. It must hurt.
Yet I don't regret a thing.
"You have no right to pry in my personal business Sir Moods." I say coldly. "If you are truly interested I can proudly say that any relationship I had with the prince is all in the past. I don't even think I can count that as I relationship, considering that he is doing the same thing with 34 other girls."
I turn my back on him and open the door. I wipe my eyes and I realize I forgot to say one important detail.
"And by the way," Guilt is visible in his eyes as I talk and I enjoy the sight, "I have a fiancé."
I slam the door behind me and I don't watch him leave. Fran, with a worried look on her face, walks up to me, Jack tailing her.
"Is everything alright Ms. Singer?" she asks.
I plaster a faux grin on my face and nod. "Yes, Fran. How's the last verse coming along?"
She gives me a long hard look, obviously not convinced. She gives her head a light shake and replies, "It's going well. Everyone has gotten the chords right and we have already fixed the voices from Soprano to Alto."
I give her a satisfied pat on the head. "Good work." I pat Jack's head as well. "You too."
"Of course," he says proudly. "Thanks to my skills, Fran's guitar playing doesn't sound like a dying cat anymore." He wraps an arm around Fran's shoulders and he pulls her closer to his side.
Fran's face is pink. "Y-You're mean. My playing wasn't that bad. Right?"
"It was!" The rest of the class shouted.
I shake my head and run a tired hand through my face as Fran breaks away from Jack and jumps around, a sign of an incoming tantrum.
"I-I— This is all your fault!" She points at Jack, who was backing away slowly.
"How is it my fault?" He asks, covering his face from attempted hits from Fran. "Everyone just stated their honest opinion."
I grab the two by the shoulder before they start chasing each other.
"Stop it you lovebirds. We have to practice." I demand, pushing them to their places.
L-Lovebirds?!" Fran exclaims.
The class swoons and squeals as they watch the couple blush together.
I let out a laugh.
I just love this class.
o-o-o
3rd POV ((This part is a telephone conversation written in script form))
Caller 1: So, you want us to get her now?
Caller 2: Yes.
Caller 1: But why now?
Caller 2: If we wait until tomorrow, the Prince will arrive and the security will be much harder to get pass.
Caller 1: We haven't found out anything from the girl yet—
Caller 2: That's exactly why we should take her now. We can isolate her and scare her into telling us. And the best part is she'll make excellent bait.
Caller 1: Bait? There's no assurance that the prince still cares about her and—
Caller 2: So what? The prince is human. He has a conscience. He'll feel responsible for her. And besides, he wouldn't want to look selfish in front of the public, now does he?
Caller 1: You have a point. Okay when will you attack?
Caller 2: When? I've already started warming up the troops. So, ready to hold a gun?
Caller 1: We're not killing anyone.
Caller 2: But that's boring…
Caller 1: DAD!
Caller 2: Fine, no killing. You're still going to use those petty darts of yours?
Caller 1: They're not petty—
Caller 2: Yeah, yeah. We're on our way. See you later.
Beep… beep…
o-o-o
~That afternoon…~
Maxon's POV
I stare at my own reflection in the mirror. I'm in a hotel room in Carolina and I'm meeting America tomorrow and…
"I'm ready." I tell myself.
I see the crease between my eyebrows and I let out a groan. "I'm not ready." I fall on my soft bed and I cover my face with my pillow.
I am ashamed to feel so nervous about having to sit in front of a stage as I watch people perform for me. That's all I had to do besides the long speech my father has written for me.
But one question is slowly killing me.
What will happen when I see her?
I did not plan on seeing her. It was completely unintentional. I never thought of getting back something that was never mine.
And now here I am, pacing around my room as I wait for the remaining hours to die.
Damn my father for forcing me to go there. Who cares about his schedule? Who cares if he has trouble trying to convince Italy to reconsider their decision? He was the one who forced me to make America leave.
I take the pillow off my face and examine my knuckles. They have healed after a few days yet the wounds in my heart are still bleeding. I have not made up with Kriss completely yet, even though she insists she has forgiven me. She is so nice that she can even lie to me and get herself hurt.
Why can't I fall in love with someone like her?
I notice a few bumps under my right sleeve so I pull it down. Blue beads that cling on my wrist appear before my eyes. I bite my trembling lip.
This was the gift I got America from New Asia. I never had the chance to give it to her, though. I was too focused on trying to break her heart. I can't even throw it away because of my being too sentimental. I always wear it and no one seems to notice.
I sigh softly. If this was a contest on whose heart hurt more, I'd win hands down.
At least when she got out of the palace someone out there was waiting for her. I believe that she never even tried to love me.
So… in the end, she betrayed me. And I learned about it in the most painful way I can imagine.
Flashback: (Days before the events of chapter 1)
I have always been fond of cameras.
But now… I completely dread them.
I have my own surveillance room in the palace near my bedroom. Why? Because of my childhood fear of getting kidnapped once again by rebels, I asked my mother to give me the power to see every room in the palace without my father's knowledge, of course. He knows about this room but he rarely comes in here, saying that this is just my way to "waste my time". I only go in here when I am not too busy, once every month at best, and this day is one of them.
Each camera (equipped with microphones) in the palace is professionally and efficiently hidden, I don't even notice them myself whenever I take a walk around my home.
During days like these, I watch the recorded videos of the past days and see if anything interesting happens. Nothing I watch is actually exciting. It's all guard rotating shifts and maids walking around the palace, serving the Selected.
I watch these videos all at the same time, shifting my eyes screen per screen.
Except for today.
One certain video grabs my attention.
The video was taken a few days ago, late at night.
The room in the video is dark, much like this one. The only source of light was the setting sun shining through the window.
I hear a few sounds from the corner. I see a man— a guard. I can't make out his face. All I can see is that he is moving the couch and moving pillows and tables.
The door creaks open and someone walks inside: a girl.
My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open.
As soon as I see that familiar lock of red hair I press a few buttons to make the multiple screens form one image and the room enlarges.
I wish that what I experienced was just a case of mistaken identity but it wasn't.
It was America.
"Hello?" She whispers. She closes the door carefully and the man immediately goes closer to her.
Scooping her up in his arms.
A crack forms in my heart. Why only a crack? A part of me was still denying everything I was about to see.
"I've missed you." The blurry man said.
"I missed you, too." The sincerity in her face kills me. "I was so busy with that reception, I barely had time to breathe."
"Glad it's over. Did you have a hard time getting here?" I so desperately wanted to whip him like my father does to me with his stupid joking tone.
America giggles. Giggles with him. "Seriously, Aspen, you're way too good at your job."
Aspen.
So that's his name.
In a corner, America sat down, surrounded by pillows.
"Are you comfortable?" Aspen pushed a table over the girl. I zoomed in closer. From the angle of the camera, I could still see them from under the table. Though the man's face is covered by too many dark shadows, making him invisible yet again.
I see America was sitting between his legs now when I enhanced the video quality. A plate of food was in front of them.
Aspen looked so comfortable with America in his arms. I used to know that feeling.
"Almost like home, huh?" he asked.
She leans on him, making me sick to the stomach. "It's even better." She answered.
His hands are running through her hair and I'm ready to scream.
I continue listening to their conversation like it's the worst show I have ever watched.
"What are you thinking about, Mer?"
"Lots of things." she sighed. "Home, you, Maxon, the Selection, everything."
At least she's thinking about me.
"What are you thinking about all of that?"
"Mostly how confused I get about them. Like how I'll think I understand what's happening to me, and then something shifts, and my feelings change."
Aspen asked, "Do your feelings about me change a lot?"
I've been wanting to ask that question to her myself.
"No!" America answers surely. "If anything, you're the one constant. I know that if everything turns upside down, you'll still be here, in the exact same place. Everything gets so crazy that my love for you" – If only I could break the screens I would've already—"gets pushed to the background, but I know it's always there. Does that make sense?"
"It does. I know I make this whole thing more complicated than it already is. I'm glad to know I'm not completely out of the running though."
Aspen wrapped his arms around her, like he wanted to keep her all for himself.
"I haven't forgotten us," America promised.
With that I hit the forward button, not wanting to listen to any more of this. I watch the scene play faster, how America and Aspen chat like they were not trying to get themselves killed by breaking the law.
I press play at a certain scene. I don't know what came into my mind that made me have to suffer watching that particular scene in normal speed.
Their lips interlock.
My heart breaks into a million pieces and those very pieces are lodged up in my throat, making my breathing difficult to manage.
I grip on the arm rests so hard I'm surprised they haven't snapped yet.
He lowers her on the pillows, running his fingers along her beautiful figure. He keeps on kissing my America.
My America.
She accepts the action wholeheartedly, running her fingers through his hair.
My eyes are locked on the screen and I don't think I've remembered how to blink. Tears prickle my eyes for the first time in a long while and my hands are too stiff to reach for my eyes to wipe the stupid water off. The tears just keep flowing and flowing and I realize how useless tears are.
They just fall into the floor, making a mess of puddles and pools. They don't change the fact that all of this has happened. They're just water I wasted on someone who never really loved me back. Crying lets out feelings, though it doesn't make any difference in the real world. It's useless.
Like me.
"I never had a chance, didn't I?" I ask myself, running a hand through my messy hair.
I should've known. From the time during our first official talk during this Selection when I asked if I had any chance with her, I should've let her go before I got myself hurt. She said it herself. She said it straight to my face that I had no chance with her. And what did I do?
I pushed myself on her, too weak hearted to get a broken heart.
I hate her now. But hating her isn't a sufficient reason for my feelings to change.
I love her.
And where did it get me?
The couple stands up and for the first time I see his face clearly.
Oh how good it would feel to just die right now.
Aspen… is Officer Leger. America's provincial boyfriend.
I put the man America was trying to forget right in front of her doorstep.
I let out a laugh. Then a scream.
How stupid I am.
America was finally falling into my arms and yet I tempt her back into going to the man I desperately wanted to kill for hurting my girl's heart. This is my fault. I should've— I should've read about the guards we take in for the draft instead of picking them out randomly. If I did she may have forgotten him and I might finally had a chance.
But no. I had to be so damn nice to let her supposed "childhood friend" keep her "company".
I'm about to vomit.
It's my fault I lost America to him.
It's my fault.
It's all my fault.
I broke my own heart.
I stand up, grab my chair, and throw it against the wall. The crash makes me feel relieved. I kicked the wall multiple times, hoping the impact would kill me. I jam my hands on the controls, making the video pause.
The screen shows Aspen giving America one last kiss.
The creak of the opening door makes me snap my head backward. A tall man walks in, my shocked expression photocopied in his face.
It was my father.
My father.
His eyes pierce into mine and I know what he was going to say before he said it.
"That's it. I've had enough of this girl."
I open my mouth, but no voice makes an effort to form words for me.
He turns away from me and he grips on the doorknob like he wants to melt it in his hands. "I'm going to have them executedtomorrow." He says stiffly.
I hear a click and I grab his shoulder. He looks at me like he pities me and all I do is shake my head.
"No." One desperate word. "No father, you cannot kill her. I—"
He walks away quickly, my grip on his shoulder gone. I see the disappointment in the way he shakes head but I don't care if he's disappointed in me like he always is.
I can't let him go out that door.
I grab his arm and wrap my own arms around it tightly. "No! Please father, you can't— you can't kill her! Please—"
My screams do nothing but make him angrier. He pushes me and I hit the control panel, pain surging through my spine. I bite into my lip to cease the pain.
"Are you blind Maxon?!" my father asks. "Can't you see that she doesn't lo—"
"SHUT UP!" Me kneeling as I hug his legs cut him off. He tries to kick me off but all I do is grip his tighter. "No," I keep saying. "No, no, no, no!"
Tears are flowing down my face to his clothes as I keep weeping and sobbing like a pathetic little child. "I can't lose her," I cry, taking every shred of dignity I had and throwing it away. "I can't."
My father lifts me up by the shoulders and slams me into the wall. His eyes are dead serious while mine are puffy and swollen from crying.
He lets me go and my knees give away. I see him run a hand through his face before looking at me. "Fine." He says. "I won't execute her."
I brighten up like an idiot. Why was I so happy that the girl who betrayed me was going to continue living?
"But," my father adds, "in two conditions: 1. you will choose Kriss as your bride. 2. You have to get rid of America by tomorrow. If not, I will not hesitate killing her myself."—
((Forced)) END OF FLASHBACK
The loud banging on my door slices through my thoughts. I sit up and before I even get off my bed, a guard opens the door and barges in. He doesn't wait for my acknowledgment and he gives me news I wished was a big lie.
"Prince Maxon, the rebels have attacked the school!"
o-o-o
Me: Okay, okay, I know. You want to kill me and find out what happens next. But before you hit that b—
