Fallout

Ground Zero

»It was frustrating«

Alessandra "Alex" Valentino

It was frustrating.

It wasn't a lie to say that within the span of a month, a lot had happened. In Angeles, in Paloma and in Columbia. Alex, personally, didn't feel like she had done a lot though. She had asked the palace advisor to help her convince her mother to quit modelling for now, but that didn't mean that the advisor was a decent careers advisor, or of any help in deciding what she would do now.

Thus, for most of the following month, Alex spend her time out with friends, avoiding the paparazzi that desperately wanted to know if Lady Alessandra was following Lady Zarah's path in dating some hot celebrity, and avoiding the judging glares of her dear mother. Yes, Alex was just taking a break because 'the Selection had inspired her to change her life', and yes, she was working on what else she was planning.

Alex kept contact with Leila, unlike Zarah who dropped contact to Ami and Isla with the excuse of 'not wanting to interfere with the Selection' immediately. A lot of people compared her to Zarah and her charity galas, volunteering and smiles on photos. Leila said it was politics, Alex called it bullshit. There certainly had been, at some point, a rule regarding contact from the palace—let alone because Alex had told her mother such—but nobody stopped Leila. Maybe it was her connections as descendant of an Illéan founder, maybe no one cared.

Yet, Leila's life in the palace was busy, and Alex' friends didn't quite understand that just hanging out all day, listening to music and going out wasn't what Alex wanted with her life either. They envied her for that, for the luxury she as former Selected had. But Alex, she wanted more—not more as in dress up doll for mum, but more as in something she didn't yet know.

It was frustrating, because she didn't know.

"I have to go now," Leila said during one particular phone call. "Etiquette lessons, I'm afraid."

"That's bullshit. You don't need that."

"Unfortunately, Umbridge isn't quite fond of the idea of letting us skip," Leila replied.

"Yikes."

Leila sighed. She, too, was frustrated, although that was Alex' fault, and if she wasn't in this dark hole with no way out, she'd be sorry for her. "You know," she suggested, waiting the immaculate nail work on her fingers around like nothing—thank god she was out of there, "you could do some volunteer work."

"Like Zarah who's everyone's darling now? I've heard people complaining that Xander eliminated her; they suddenly say she'd make a great queen." She huffed.

"I can assure you, her name hasn't been mentioned among us."

"Oh, how terrible, the prince she didn't want doesn't care for her." Alex rolled her eyes. "Besides, what should I volunteer for? I'm no doctor; I can't go to Africa and help sick babies."

"What about checking out volunteer fire departments nearby? They do offer training, and I, at least, love it."

Alex groaned. "Yeah, no. I'd rather yeet myself into the ocean first."

"They can help you with that too," Leila reminded her cheeky.

Alex rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course they do. Go back and practise how to hold cutlery, princess, I'm gonna continue watching television."

"What's on?"

Alex glanced to the television. "The Bachelor. They're giving out final roses. It's a rerun. Trying to bank on the real Selection going on."

Leila laughed out. "Ah, yes, you will enjoy that, of course. Have fun."

The call ended, and Alex found herself alone with her darling television and some random dude flirting with equally random women. At least the Selection presented some kind of stake… She sighed, grabbed the remote and began switching around—but nothing on TV caught her interest.

Alex leaned back, glaring at the television as if it had the answers for her, avoided her mother coming home and telling her to at least get off the couch and say hi to the reporters that waited for any news every single day, and kept coming back to Leila's suggestion.

Surely, the reporters would eat it up like candy.

Surely, it'd be an interesting experience.

Surely, her mother would riot.

Three days later, a rerun of The bachelor that Alex watched in her 'nothing to do' despair and a bit too much sleep, Alex began looking into exactly what Leila had suggested. Turns out that there was just the right department, albeit non-voluntary, close by.

/ / /

It was frustrating, and the day had only begun. There were three things Alex wasconflicted about, but now it was too late to turn around. First of all, and that even though she did that all the time, signing up for the firefighter academy was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Secondly, the outfits they wear were about the opposite of her mother's Gucci dress up game but not her style and thirdly, everyone was staring at her. She should have guessed that last bit.

"Come in," the supervising guy—how are they calling him? Instructor?—called out. "Find your name, by alphabetical order. Make sure you have everything."

With Alex' last name being Valentino, she headed to the end of the line. There were a few other girls, and heaps of guys, and while Alex wondered why they were here, she was much more preoccupied with figuring out how to survive the sixteen weeks she just signed up to.

She found a red bag, uniforms and all, and listened to the quiet chatter. Maybe some of them had opted out of military conscription in favour of joining the firefighters, she guessed, but that didn't explain the presence of girls—they had to be here on their own will.

"Are you Lady Alessandra from the Selection?" someone eventually asked her.

"Uh, yeah," Alex replied, wondering if it was the make-up or uniform that made her so difficult to recognise.

"What are you doing here?" they asked.

"Trying to do something with my life?" Alex joked. She meant it, though. "What's the plan for today?"

"Protocol and the pride axes. Donning, doffing of bunker gear and water flow practise."

None of these words explained anything to Alex though, and she resigned to staying in the back, waiting for others to go first. She followed the others through the academy, starting brief chats with the other recruits.

"Everything begins in a classroom," someone eventually explained to her, just as they enter said classroom in the red recruit uniform. White folders waited on the table for them, and a projector announced the first lesson. Not too different from palace etiquette—expect people wore uniforms instead of sparkly velvet dresses.

Alex soon realised that while the military-like protocol is nothing for her, the breaks among the other recruits were better. They moved past the 'oh my gosh you're a selected' stage sooner than later, and receiving that pride axe—Alex is the first to do it—even with the odd formalities, made Alex smile. Something to do at last.

The days passed by, filled with a bit too much water for Alex's tasted, and lots of putting on uniform, but unlike with the formality of the Selected and the bitching of Harriet Tailor, Alex made friends and comrades alike.

An academy of firefighter training later, after that first, questioned day, Alex finished the fire academy with a smile.

/ / /

It was frustrating, but Alex knew it was of use.

Even after beginning work—and finally getting rid of the press that kept on following her, her time as Selected continued to haunt her, though, as shown by the time when her supervisor quietly asked her to attend a gala made to gain additional funds.

Despite successfully avoiding the charity work with the Italians that visited a while ago, Alex replied with a straight up "Yes, of course", let alone because she hoped it would help silence her dear mother a little bit more.

"Happy birthday, darling," she had said on Alex' thirteenth birthday, making her and the rest of the family Twos. They had been Fours living as Twos for years, thanks to oil fortune and connections. That day had only been means to solidify their status among the upper society.

"I believe I know just what's right for you," she had said when booking Alex' first modelling gig. It had been one of countless, and the reason why Alex held such a disdain against it.

"Darling, I just want the best for you," she said, "you can go and play around with your friends later on, but this? This is what will make a lasting impact on your life. Think of it!" Alex' mother had said, when signing her up for the Selection.

At least, yes, Alex liked to think that that was true. She had met Leila and made a friend in her, got along with the other girls well and her mother knew; if Alex ever spoke up against her pushy parenting, then her mother's social status was in pieces.

"Alessandra," her mother had said before she had left for the academy, "are you sure you want to waste months with this? It's not like you will do this for long."

Just to spite her, Alex swore to herself that she would, indeed, to that. Just to spite her, Alex invited her mother to come along to the gala, knowing all too well that without risking a scandal, she would need to pretend to be utterly happy about her daughter's decision.

The evening of the gala, Alex had chosen her clothes purposefully. Although meant to be formal, she knew better than to expect her fellow firefighters to, in any way, appear in designer dresses. Their salary did not make the cut for that. Instead, she made her plans to look just like them, and maybe embarrass her dear mother a little tad further.

"I'm not so sure if that's a good idea," Leila who knew that all too well, worried when they spoke that night.

"It'll be fine, "Alex assured her friend. What'll go wrong? My superior complaining that I didn't show up in a designer dress?"

"That—probably possible. You were a Selected; he'd expect a certain level of style."

"Then he can pay me—and everyone else—more," Alex, knowing all too well that she didn't need more money but others did, replied. "How's palace life?"

"Good," Leila, vague as she was, replied. Even with Alex, she wasn't meant to disclose on the inner workings of the Selection. "I'm glad that you enjoy your job. I really miss mine. My friends, too. It's so lonely without you."

"But you made new friends."

"I have. It's alright, I suppose."

"'Alright'," Alex repeated. "What am I missing?"

"Nothing, nothing," Leila, on the screen of her phone, shook her head. "Do have fun tonight—and remember, this isn't about being salty to your mother, it's about recognising the work you all have done, and may do in the future."

Alex nodded, but she knew Leila better than to not acknowledge that she was hiding at least something. It was frustrating, but she couldn't do anything.