Chapter 9
America
The silky-soft feel of the nightgowns on my skin was too much. I felt I didn't deserve this - any of this. I was feeling extremely overwhelmed right now; I just wanted to go home. I may have been a Five, and this may have been every Five's dream, but the comforts of home and family beat the luxuries of the Schreave summer home hands-down. Not like the prince or the girls really liked me anyways. I looked forward to the moment Maxon announced I was eliminated. May and Mom would probably be disappointed but glad to see me. Dad and Gerad wouldn't care; they would be proud anyways. I could already feel their hands wrapped around me in a comforting hug. Home. The thought sounded so appealing right now.
So I slept only in the bare essentials. Actually, let me reword that. I tossed and turned on the too-soft bed in bare essentials.
Finally, it came to be too much. Getting up, I slipped on the going-away outfit I'd planned and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. Under the dim lamplight, I studied the picture that Kenna had taken of me and May sitting together smiling up at the camera. We both looked so carefree and happy. My heart clenched.
Suddenly, I heard a knock on my door. I looked out past the French doors leading to the balcony, and into the inky black night. Who could be at my door in the dead of night? Cautiously, I tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack.
Did Maxon ever give up? Apparently not.
"What do you want?" I hissed. "Couldn't you have chosen a better time?"
"No," he answered. "May I come in, Lady America?"
"I would like it if you skipped out on the formalities, please, Maxon," I said curtly as I opened the door. "I am part of the competition, you know. If you really want to marry a girl here, you can't always address her as 'lady'. You have to know them by name."
"Right." He blinked as he entered. "May I ask why you're wearing that outfit instead of the nightgowns provided?"
"They're itchy," I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind besides the truth. "I don't like them."
"Should we switch out the material?" he asked. "We don't have to use silk. I could always inform the seamstresses to switch them out with lace or -"
"No thanks." I said quickly. "What are you doing in here, Maxon? The truth, please."
He sighed. "Are you really leaving, America? The truth, please." I nearly snorted.
"Well. Maybe. I don't really like it here. The girls hate me, you hate me, and I just want to go home to my family."
"Hold on a second, America. I don't hate you." He sounded bewildered.
"Well, whatever. I get the feeling that you don't really like me."
"That's not true! On the contrary, I like you better than most of the girls. I feel most comfortable around you." I could tell he wasn't lying. Not that he was a great liar anyways.
"Still. I don't like. . .this. It's all been too much. I may have not been right about you hating me, but have you seen me during meals? The girls all move away from me, literally."
"May I let you in on a little secret?" he asked.
"If you must."
"Father decided not to do Reports after all. He says it's too risky; the rebels may track us down anyways. So to make up for it, to appease the probably angry public, I'm gonna throw a ball in a few days."
"Fantastic." I said. "Just another reason to hate this all the more."
"That's not all."
"Oh?" My eyebrows rose.
"I'm allowing each remaining Selected girl to bring along their chosen member of the family, be it a cousin, sister, mother, anyone of your choice." By the end, he was smiling. His smile was strange; sort of crooked. Some people may find it 'cute' or whatever, but I found it kind of funny.
My heart soared. "Really? You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all, America." His smile got wider.
"You have outdone yourself, Maxon. Maybe I will stay after all." I found myself smiling back at him - but only a little. My lips weren't used to smiling anymore - I hardly did it anymore, and even less now that I was here, in this mess.
"That's good to hear, Miss America." He bowed mockingly. I snorted out a graceless laugh. But that was good, maybe. Let him know I wasn't princess material, I wasn't poised or graceful or anything like that. Let him know I was biased and flawed and most importantly, a Five.
But I would stay. If it meant I got to see May, hear her laugh, hear her squeal about the food and the dresses and jewelry, then I'd stay.
The next morning I was in considerably better spirits, even though I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep.
Yet it also reminded me of the times that Aspen and I used to meet up at ungodly hours just to be together for any amount of time. There were also some different factors, though. Maxon was totally different from Aspen, and here we were nestled in the depths of luxury and finesse.
That day Maxon also eliminated four girls - some girl named Annika, the last Five besides me, Leslie Raine, a Three, Khalilah Dwyer, a Two, and Helena Joyce, a Four. That left twenty one girls, including me.
The king didn't show up for breakfast that day, and Queen Amberly was worrying over her breakfast, looking pained.
If I knew one thing, it was that the death of King Clarkson would be devastating for the queen. I knew, for one thing, that they loved each other.
Maxon also announced the canceling of the Report and the ball. A few diplomats, advisers, family members, friends, and some important Twos would be invited, along with us and our one family member. The girls were considerably excited. Any feelings of disappointment about not getting to be on national television were patched up by the ball. And it's not like any of us were really sad about the Report save for a few attention-seeking Twos. We were all really nervous about Reports on the contrary. What if we messed up, or the people didn't like us?
In the Women's Room, Silvia spoke on and on and on. I didn't listen to anything she said - we were still in the beginning stages of the Selection, so all we needed to know right now was about tasteful makeup and dress choices. I didn't care about that. But she told us once we were in the later stages of the Selection and the number of girls decreased, we would start learning more about what a princess did and would be put on specific assignments. Which would be heard about in the newspapers and would be polled about.
That was also the day of the first rebel attack.
A shrill noise crowded my ears. All of us were confused, a few girls screamed. Silvia was the only one that knew it was the alarm for an attack. Some girls immediately went into shock while others panicked. We were all tripping over ourselves, yelling and running like headless chickens.
Silvia was trying to get us into an orderly line, but there was too much chaos going on. My heart was pounding, but I wasn't in total panic mode like some others. I had to yell for Silvia to hear me. "Is there a secret safe room somewhere here?" I shouted.
She pointed to a door on the far left. "Over there!" she said. "Pull back the thick green book in the middle and there'll be a set of stairs. Pull all the girls you can with you. Did you catch all of that?"
I nodded. I pulled back a girl who looked like a Two, who looked like she might listen. "Okay. I know where the safe room is. You need to listen to me; grab as many girls as will listen and I'll lead the way to the safe rooms."
At first, she started to sneer, but sighed. "You might be a Five and I would normally ignore you, but these are our lives on the line." And with that, she started tapping girls on the shoulders and forcing them to listen.
Once everyone decided to be smart enough and listen to the girl - Mercedes was her name - Silvia led the way. Opening the door, she revealed a tiny room the size of my old room with two shelves of books. She went to the shelf at the back, and pulled back the green book. The shelf started to slide sideways, like a sliding glass door. Revealing a set of rough cement stairs, nearly pitch black.
The only sound was of clacking heels and rustling dresses. I nearly choked on the thick layer dust coating every surface and eventually had to resort to breathing through my mouth.
Once we got to the bottom, there was a huge wooden door. Silvia got out a set of keys and opened it. Inside was a large room with cots and sconces with burned-out torches. Only the queen and Maxon were in there.
Maxon looked relieved once he saw me. . .for some reason. I guessed he just knew me best and trusted me the most. He hardly knew the names of the other girls. . .something they were getting frustrated about lately.
"Thank god you're all safe," he sighed. "Mother was getting so worried, this being your first rebel attack and all."
"Where's the king?" I asked.
Maxon squeezed his eyes closed. "He was at a doctor appointment today. Apparently he can't use his legs anymore. Half the Royal Guard is out looking for him, the rest is fending off the rebels. We don't know what's happened."
"Oh, God," I said. "That's terrible."
"Yeah." A few moments of awkward silence passed, before he quickly said, "I'm probably gonna be forced to do my rounds soon anyways, so you can just go lie on a cot and rest or something."
"Okay." I said.
The cots were hard and uncomfortable, something I took unexpected comfort in. This reminded me of my bed, which was pretty lumpy and not too comfortable. It reminded me of times when May would crawl into bed with me when she had nightmares or when there was a thunderstorm or she was just feeling lonely. My bed was associated with lots of childhood memories. We'd never had enough money to replace the old mattress, which was fine by me. I loved it too much to let it go now, anyways.
I closed my eyes and imagined May's warm little body beside mine, her fiery red hair splayed out against my chest. I could imagine myself stroking her hair and singing her a soft, comforting lullaby until she fell asleep against me, her breath coming out in short puffs, and I would soon follow suit.
With those thoughts, I drifted off unintentionally.