"You're an author too?!"
A grin lit up Rosella's face as the boy sitting across from her discussed his occupation. Jethro, he said his name was, currently worked at a bookshop after graduating high school last year.
"Ah no, not yet." A slight flush creeped up his neck. "Although I hope to be."
Rosella felt her expression fall a little so she quickly readjusted her smile and hoped Jethro didn't catch her slight disappointment as his not-yet-an-author status. Hush me, I'm not yet an author either.
Jethro adjusted his striped t-shirt, no indication that he saw the twitch. "What's your writing style? Genre?"
This was something Rosella had struggled with a lot over the past year and a half.
"I've experimented with horror shorts, non-fiction – although that didn't last long, romance, coming of age novels, and fantasy." She shrugged, having long since accepted the sad fact. "I can't find one I seem to stick with and write an actual book on."
"Oh, wait, you're not published yet?"
"No, I'm not. Sorry if I said something to make it seem so before."
He waved her apology off, no worries. Thinking that it shouldn't be a one-sided conversation, Rosella asked what his preferred genre was.
"I write teen adventures and some pictures books," Jethro replied. "I cater to the bright minds of tomorrow, you see."
Rosella nodded sagaciously, her minding picking out the word 'cater'.
"Wouldn't be more right to say you shape their minds rather than just give them what they want?"
His eyebrows moved into an impressed expression and Jethro returned her elegant nod. "That's true. I create what they read, which forms a basis for what they know. Therefore, I am an educator of the highest regard."
In a dry voice, Rosella corrected him, "Or a dictator."
She managed to keep a solemn expression for almost three seconds before breaking face and giggling. Her loud snorts combined with his chuckling made a man on the other side of the road glance at them, smile knowingly, and continue on his way.
Laughter fading and not wanting the atmosphere to shatter, Rosella pointed at the small piece of paper Jethro had tucked under his thigh before he sat down. "Is that your item?"
"It is." Jethro gently lifted the paper and brushed off invisible dirt before placing it on table, facing Rosella. She peered at it and realized it wasn't paper, but a laminated photograph. A girl with dark eyes beamed at Rosella through a heavy curtain of golden brown hair, and hugging her from the side with his arms around her shoulders, was a younger version of Jethro. The same pale skin, short wavy strands, and sharp jawline proved it. Grasping the photo so carefully like it would fade to dust if she breathed wrong, Rosella held it up in front of her so that she could compare the physical appearances of then-Jethro and now-Jethro. He smiled patiently as she did so, even mimicking his pose as best he could in a chair.
"You honestly haven't changed. How long ago was this?"
He ducked his head and held his hand out. "Only a year ago, when Joy turned thirteen."
Rosella returned the photograph and he slipped it under his thigh again. "Your little sister?"
"Yeah. She's the light of my life, really." He blushed a little, color finally blooming in his olive-white cheeks. He didn't mentally subside from the conversation like Jim did when he was talking about his crush, but spoke matter-of-factly, like he grew up knowing the closeness between his sister and himself.
"What's she like?" asked Rosella, thinking of her own sisters, one with a head for calmness and rationality and the other born of chaotic energy. She liked that he was able to admit his love and attachment to his younger sibling.
"Kind, happy, bubbly…the opposite of me, really." Jethro chuckled, but not at himself. "She balances me out and everyone knows it."
Rosella nodded in understanding. "My two sisters balance each other out – I'm kind of like a third wheel in terms of personality and interests. With my dad though, it forms a weird diamond shape where the two extremes sit on opposite sides of the scale and the two in the middle just laugh at their antics."
While she had been talking, Jethro had absentmindedly shifted into three different sitting positions, silently and cat-like in terms of stealth. Rosella only realized when she had finished and noticed him sitting with one leg crossed and arms folded like he was giving himself a little hug. Nevertheless, he looked like he had been listening attentively, and this was confirmed when he inquired, "What about your mom?"
Rosella was conflicted. She had just meet him and didn't want to go to deep into her own personal life, and she especially hated it when people found out the truth and stepped gingerly around her, like Rosella was going to burst into tears if they even thought of the missing hole in her family. Yet, it was an innocent question and he seemed like the type of person to be able to keep a secret.
Clank.
Saved by a door knock. Relieved to not have been forced to make a choice, Rosella waved a goodbye to Jethro and rose to greet the next Selected. This boy sauntered up like he owned the cement that made up the sidewalk. He had his hands tucked in the pockets of a pair of grungy jeans as he moved from the door to the table, curly black hair in a I-woke-up-like-this mess.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Rosella." She extended a hand when he stopped in front of her, but was not prepared for him to sweep into an elaborate bow and grasp her right hand daintily.
"Good afternoon, madam. My name is Roman Carpenter," he said with the smoothest voice Rosella had ever heard. Not just silky, but elegant and leveled, like he had been professionally trained to sing or speak. Roman planted a soft kiss on her hand and quickly moved behind Rosella to push in her chair.
Rosella could only nod and mumble a gibberish string of incoherent noises. He dipped his head like he would if she had managed to properly thank him, his hand moving up almost unconsciously as if to tip a hat. Without one, the gesture seemed incomplete, but it was charming all the same. He twirled around to sit himself down, resting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning back. His posture spoke royalty.
"Why are you hosting a Selection?" Eyebrows arched dramatically, Roman looked quite threatening instead of the confused and interested expression one would expect with the question.
Taken aback and a bit intimidated by his intense look, Rosella fumbled for words. "Lexie was the one who thought up and organized the whole thing. She thinks I need to go out more, date more."
Roman smiled bitterly. "Love is the answer to all your problems."
"That is exactly her mindset."
"What do you hope to gain at the end of this?"
Rosella realized she didn't know the answer. His interrogations would make for interesting conversation, enlightening the both of them.
"I guess I'm looking for a boyfriend? Someone who stands by me…laughs with me…likes my crazy family enough to stay." She picked at the wisps of dirt under her nails. Is that what I'm looking for?
Skepticism written on his face, Roman almost scoffed, "And you think you're going to find someone you love in – what's the time frame? Three weeks?
She was already frowning. "Not love; not in under a month."
"Looking for a boyfriend but not love?" Roman smirked and Rosella blushed, realizing she was caught in the trap she had woven herself.
She scrambled to find words to express what she wanted but Rosella couldn't because one can't describe something they don't know. In the end, she shrugged. "No one knows what they're looking for until they find it, right?"
"Touché," he relented.
Hoping to turn the conversation so she wouldn't have to do any more soul-searching, Rosella scanned the boy in the chair in front of her. His ears were pierced; two black buttons dotted his earlobes and he wore a mocha-colored turtleneck that accented his broad shoulders. Other than his apparel however, he didn't seem to have brought anything else.
"Do you have a small item?"
Roman's eyes lit up like skylight and he quickly covered his mouth, eyebrows narrowed. He made a disapproving face but it didn't seem like it was directed at Rosella. Carefully shifting his chair back and standing, he motioned for Rosella to stay seated. "I'll only be a moment."
With a mystified smile, Rosella took in the calm actions and carefully selected words that contrasted the frantic look in his eyes. "So far, everything you've done or said has surprised me."
His shoulders shriveled slightly. "Am I eliminated then?"
Rosella snorted at his immediate assumption of the worst. "No, it's good." She waved him on but reconsidered her words a moment later. "It better be good."
His reply drifted back to her as he slipped through the door. "It's the best."
The solitude gave Rosella a moment to breath.
"Do I want a boyfriend?" she questioned herself aloud, "Or is that what Lexie wants for me?" Am I happy on my own right now?
Tsk. Of course I am. Fondly, Rosella brought together in her head, everyone who's presence made her smile. In her mind's eye, she saw the photograph she took of her family last year on a hike. Sage was reeling in a fish and Lavender cheered her on while Randel devoured the last of their snacks in the corner. Young Lexie and baby Aidan's gap-toothed smiles shone while Benji barked in the back of her mind. Rosella thought of just last month in the bakery, where Gina and Jeff celebrated their 38th anniversary with the staff. Nine people surrounded the sponge cake and Rosella feel asleep that night with a stomach was full of sugar and a heart full of joy.
She tried to picture her life with a boy that was more than a friend. There would be someone to steal the snacks with her father, laugh with her closest friends, play outside with her dog, and clap along to the birthday song. That sounds nice.
Roman coughed into his fist and Rosella started, shifting higher in her seat. She hadn't noticed him maneuver equipment through the doors, plug in cables, set up support legs, or even place an electric piano in front of her. Seeing the enormous 'small item', Rosella was unable to hold in a gasp of wonder.
Grinning, Roman took his place behind the piano. Plucking simple notes, he played a slow, rhythmic tune she didn't recognize. Then Roman opened his mouth and Rosella swore his voice box was lined with honey.
One song for sunlight gleaming through the curtain.
Two hands clench when I know what I have to do.
Three breaths and the leap about to be taken.
A million moments I want to spend with you.
Rosella closed her eyes to let the lyrics be the only thing she consumed, and her fingers drummed to the beat. His low voice enveloped Rosella like an embrace and she was in awe of his mastery of song. Roman finished after another stanza and Rosella applauded with enthusiasm. He dipped into a shallow bow and was about to sit down again when they heard a knock at the door. Seemingly unbothered by the interruption, Roman nodded at Rosella and began to pick up his equipment.
Rosella quickly rose to help him zip up the piano's cover bag, careful not to let their hands touch in case things got awkward if they did.
"To be continued," he said as he hoisted the piano and the support stand under his arms. Rosella smiled in return.
The newest Selectee had his back to her as he held the door open for Roman and there was something familiar about his stance and his hair.
He turned around after ensuring Roman got all his equipment inside and Rosella gasped for the millionth time that day. The newest member of the bakery' staff team smiled shyly as he made his way to the chair.
"It's you!"
"Yes ma'am, it's me!" The boy saluted to attention before the table and Rosella regarded him with unimpressed eyes. Her expression didn't break the cheer on his face and he dropped his hands to pull out the chair. The legs dragged against the pavement and made a loud screeching noise that forced two pairs of hands to cover two pairs of ears.
"Why are you like this? Going around, breaking eardrums." Rosella grinned and splayed her hands in a mock confused manner. The Selected laughed clear and ringing and took his seat careful not to brush the chair's legs on the pavement.
They sat there, grinning like they'd discovered a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and their names made headlines. Names!
"It has occurred to me," Rosella leaned her elbows on the table, "that you know my name but I don't know yours."
"Ah, I'm Austin Cho. I'm a second-year major studying Sports and Health Sciences, and delighted to meet you again."
She nodded her head slowly as he talked, her gaze drifting to the darkening sky. How long as it been? Wishing for the hundredth time she had a watch, her attention turned back to Austin and Rosella flushed as she realized he was finished and waiting for her.
"How is it going at the bakery?" She was genuinely curious because her father never bothered giving her specifics, and because watching newcomers navigate life with the bakery staff was always a blast.
Austin let out a long whistle and cocked his head to stare at a point above Rosella's head. His eyes sank into half-lidded slits and Rosella flashed back to the moment in the bakery last week, when he was concentrating on filling out the hire form and his tongue poked out.
Cute. What? She shook herself mentally in utter disgust. Don't get distracted.
Rosella returned to the physical plane when Austin spoke again.
"Before anything is said, Gina and Jeff are like the dream grandparents."
"I completely agree." Rosella's own grandparents died in a bloody skirmish with the Southern rebels almost eighteen years ago, and the elderly couple stepped in to provide her with the cookies, cheek-pulls, and dotting remarks that grandparents lavished on their grandkids. The twins considered them family too, and Gina and Jeff knew that they were more than welcome to pop over for dinner occasionally.
His upper lipped curled in a thoughtful expression and Rosella knew he was choosing his next words carefully.
"ViVi is so optimistic that she probably would see a tsunami as not a killing hunk of water but a once-in-a-lifetime adventure for the fish," he deadpanned.
She couldn't hold in a snort and held the sides of her stomach as she nodded fervently. "You…pretty much summed her up," Rosella gasped through laughter. "Patricia? Samson?"
"Polar opposites. It's kind of funny really. Like a badly written romance."
Rosella lifted an eyebrow, sniffing for clues. "Are you implying that they're interested in each other?"
He stretched a hesitant smile. "Yes?"
Rosella relaxed. "Finally! You see it too?"
And then they were both grinning.
"It's not hard to miss," he commented.
"You know what else isn't hard to miss? How ViVi looks at Samson."
"Really? I didn't notice because she spends most of the time in the back…"
"She's got it bad," Rosella confirmed. "Two women fighting over our dear…" She paused. "…A little bit clueless, Samson."
"ViVi and Patricia also have total opposite personalities. One is a literal beam of light and the other works as the Grim Reaper in the afternoons." The muscles in his cheek etched a mischievous grin and Austin rubbed his hands together.
"A cupcake says Patricia and Samson goes out first."
Rosella narrowed her eyes. "What flavor?"
"What's your favorite flavor?"
"Red velvet and buttercream frosting." There was no hesitation in her voice. Years in a bakery gave people either favorites that vary every week or a solid stick.
Without skipping a beat, Austin gave a sharp nod. "Done. Mine is chocolate with jalapeño fudge."
"Jalapeño fudge?" Rosella mimed puking. "What on earth?"
Austin frowned at her with mock indignation. "Jalapeño fudge is" – he turned to the side and lifted his fingers in the chef's kiss position – "perfection."
She stared at the enthusiastic boy in front of her and told him exactly what was on her mind. "You are insane. How did you even try to...create this?"
Austin's eyes softened and he put his hands on his heart, swooning to something invisible. "I love spicy foods. You don't typically find spicy and dessert together, so I took it upon myself to create the ultimate food mash."
Rosella waved her hands as if to protect herself from his horrible words, and decided it was too bizarre to waste breathe debating the clearly superior buttercream to a barely legal fudge, made by a chef-wannabe with a knife and some milk in his kitchen.
"I bet on ViVi and Samson first. One cupcake. You're on."
He reached over the table and they shook on it, before the glass door rattled again and somebody poked their head out. Broad shoulders and a shaved head, this one swaggered up confidently, and Austin had to swerve to avoid bumping shoulders because it was clear the newcomer wasn't going to give way.
More annoyed for her new friend than intimidated by his efforts to assert dominance, Rosella flicked her eyes up and down, evaluating and judging as he turned the chair around and sat, almost aggressively. His arms leaned on the chair's top rail, and Rosella lifted an eyebrow. He grinned and cracked his knuckles before extending a hand. She shook it carefully, wary, waiting for something but she didn't know what.
"Name's Hayden Wire. I'm an econ student at the university, twenty-two years old, family were Sevens before Kingster M tore it all down."
Straightforward, bare bones, borderline cocky. Not someone she would usually exchange words with. Regardless, Hayden presented a conversation topic and Rosella jumped on it.
"Nice to meet you. You don't agree with the caste dissolve?"
He splayed his hands out, head shaking side to side. "It's not that. Kim did an admirable job, stripping away everything his predecessors died for in a few short years."
Rosella let out a long breath, "You're giving me mixed signals here. Also Kim? Did you just shorten King Maxon into Kim?"
Hayden gave a snort and tipped his head to the side. Like an idiot, Rosella expected to see the weak sun rays glint off his bald head but glancing up, she noticed that wasn't any sunlight to glint off anything.
Hayden noticed her looking up at the sky and he nodded knowingly. Giving her a moment, he waited before continuing. "Moving back to Kim, like everyone else I think there are pros and cons of the caste dissolve. I'm just sayin' that it takes a lot of willpower to abolish an entire country's hierarchy set by Gregory Illéa and maintained and believed in by your own father."
She turned back to face him and nodded.
"The obvious pro is that people have more free choice now. A Six can do art and a Three can sew clothes." He paused before stating bluntly, "The obvious con is that rich people are snobs and refuse to let poorer people have free choice."
Rosella winced, holding in a laugh. "I agree but I probably wouldn't phrase it that way…"
He shrugged and adjusted his posture on the chair, still sitting with the chair back facing Rosella and arms dangling on the top rail. "I decided when I was sixteen years old to be a civil engineer."
Rosella was impressed. Engineering was not easy, and definitely not an available job for a Seven if the caste system still stood. Civil engineering made good money and people with building expertise were always in demand.
Like he could read her mind, he hissed with venom, "But nobody will want to hire me. The poor, despite their newfound"—he lifted his hands to make air quotes— "freedom, don't have any money to build anything, and the rich don't want a Seven designing the bridges their limousines roll over or reviewing their office buildings for potential cracks in the infrastructure."
"That is…disheartening." Rosella was beginning to feel bad for him, this cocky-boy-turned-sob-story. "You said you were studying economics now?"
He shrugged. "The world wouldn't give me what I wanted so I took a detour." He brought one leg up onto the chair, spine curving, spreading vibes that shouted I don't care.
"Maybe one day you'll realize this is a secret pathway to your utopia," she supplied, "instead of a side road you were forced to take because the main one was blocked off."
"No, no. For lifetimes, they held opportunities away from my people and when we finally are allowed to choose our future, the powerful refuse to stand by and let the world be a better place."
Hayden was halfway out of his chair now. Though he kept his voice level, his gleaming dark eyes betrayed the rage that simmered below. "It's ridiculous and Kim and Quam just sit in their ivory tower eating caviar from golden spoons like the ignorant pumpkins they are."
Gobsmacked at the gusty boy who thought it was a good idea to blurt out hate for the rulers of their country to streetwalkers and a government official sitting only a few meters away, Rosella knew it was getting too out of hand.
"Hush," she ordered in a firm voice that gave no room for argument. Hayden seemed to break out of a trance and immediately plopped back onto his seat, cheeks cherry red.
"I'm sorry, really I am. I didn't mean to get carried off," he stressed. "I get a little intense sometimes."
Yeah, no kidding.
"Breathe like me." Rosella attempted to cool him off by taking deep breaths and gesturing for him to copy her. He waved her off, insisting he was fine, good, chill.
The last Selected opened the door and Hayden almost tripped in his rush to get off the chair. Rosella waved an awkward goodbye, still seated, and he gave an equally jerky nod in return. Turning around, he squared his shoulders once again and made his way inside.
Like Austin, this Selected turned sideways to avoid collusion before arriving in front of Rosella and flipping the chair back the right direction. Also like Austin, this boy had New Asian roots evident by his features.
"Before we begin, can I have the time?" Rosella gave an embarrassed smile but the boy simply smiled and lifted his right hand. A small bronze watch was a pop of color on his pale skin. It made no sound as the hands ticked slowly, and the Selected peered at the analog watch face through a thick flop of coal-black hair.
"It is…4:51 PM."
Rosella's eyes widened. "Already? I have to go home and start making dinner." The second half was whispered to herself, but the boy heard.
"Are you cooking for your family? What are you making tonight?" he inquired, propping his fuzzy-sweater-covered elbows onto the table.
"Uh…I'm not sure. I was thinking pasta if I get home late." Rosella chuckled nervously because she didn't know either. Thinking fast and trying to picture the contents of her fridge in her mind, she remembered they had extra potatoes that Aiden brought over. "And mashed potatoes."
He nodded and the conversation subsided. Rosella watched his gaze flick from one lamppost to another, drinking in the little street the bakery called home. His pupils moved but his head and body remained impossibly still, and the evening shadows did wonders to annunciate his cheekbones. What?
Stopping herself from diving into a river of unknown conclusions, Rosella initiated talk. "…Tell me about yourself."
If he was surprised or delighted or dreaded the turn of focus, he kept it at bay and no strong emotion flickered across his face. With no physical sign to indicate he heard, Rosella took the fact that his eyes were still as proof that he was gathering an answer.
Ten seconds passed before he finally opened his mouth speak. "My name is Henry Zhang. My family owns and runs 真爱, Woodhaven's local Asian restaurant. I'm a university student studying history and literature in Angeles, but I'm back for the summer to help and be with my family, as well as figure out what I want to do in life, after graduation."
Smiling inside, she appreciated his candid snapshot of his life and wanted to return the introduction.
"Nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Rosella Cooke. My family owns and runs Cake O'Clock, a little bakery with all sorts of sweets, pastries, and bread. I'm a university student as well, majoring in business and minoring in creative writing. I was going to take the summer to decide what I really want to do after I graduate in two years, but I guess I'm doing this instead," said Rosella, gesturing to the bakery and the boys waiting inside.
Finished with her piece, she sat in silence as he looked at her and she stared back. Rosella could feel him analyzing her, and though it wasn't very fair of him to judge someone based on their appearance and a few spoken words, she couldn't really blame him as she was doing the exact same thing.
Despite the warm summer air, his outfit was a large fuzzy cotton sweater wrapped his lean frame and a fanny pack fitted securely on his shoulders. Rosella spotted knee-length canvas shorts but she wasn't going to peek under the table to check out his shoes. Pale olive skin told her Henry spent the majority of his time indoors and his hands were fidgeting with something in his pants pocket—has he been doing that the entire time?
Henry looked like a coconut.
She jerked slightly from her still position when he lifted his left hand from his pocket, and peered with interest at the small items he dropped on the table.
"Are these your items?" she poked curiously at one.
His lips curled into a good-natured smile and he dipped his head yes. Upon closer inspection, Rosella realized he had presented her with four, individually wrapped fortune cookies.
"I was thinking we could open two each, and maybe these would predict how your Selection goes," he proposed. Rosella nodded and sat up to the edge of her seat in anticipation. He mimicked her position and they stared down at the center of the table, at the little hard crackers that may or may not contain strips of their fate.
"Take your pick."
"You go first."
They said simultaneously.
Dark eyes twinkling, Henry clasped his hands together, rubbing them like doing so would cast off bad vibes. The fanny pack thumped softly on his chest.
"How about this," he looked up at her, "You pick the first one, I'll pick second and third."
Rosella agreed. "Sounds fair."
Four shiny fortune cookies beamed at her in their plastic packaging, and she closed her eyes to rummage through them. After she selected one at random, Henry reached over to grab two crackers and one, Rosella's, was left in the center.
"Open one together on three?"
Henry nodded and they both ripped open the plastic.
"Three," Rosella started.
"Two," Henry continued.
"One," they announced in unison.
Crack. Crack.
Rosella squinted to make out the tiny lettering on the thin strip of paper, and like every time she opened a fortune cookie, was absolutely bewildered at its proclamation of her destiny.
"Not everyone is as they seem," she read aloud, glancing up at Henry with mock suspicion. "You're hiding something, aren't you?"
Chuckling, Henry puts his hands up in surrender, still holding on to his broken cookie. "You found me out. I'm secretly eating a cheeseburger but I'm moving so fast you can't tell."
And Rosella was wheezing with laughter. Slapping the arms of her chair, she had to squeeze her eyes shut to prevent tears from pooling. Henry cracked up too, the contagious, unstoppable hysterics forming a chain reaction. They sat like that for a moment, enjoying the other's company.
Simmering down and in full control of her limbs now, Rosella brought a hand to her mouth, embarrassed by the toothy grin that wouldn't drop. "What…what does yours say?"
The corners of his mouth were still tipped upwards when he flicked his paper to straighten it. "You are about to receive a happy message."
Henry narrowed his eyes and glanced at his second cracker on the table. "Seems like I'm going to receive a happy message soon," he commented.
"Seems so," Rosella affirmed, smile unwavering. "Open it and see!"
He picked up the second package and took a deep breath – probably for dramatic pause Rosella concluded. Henry slipped the cookie from the plastic and broke it with a pop. The paper flapped lightly, no longer concealed within its protective shell. Because the blank side faced Henry, he pulled the slip out without reading the fortune and set the cookie on the table.
Rosella's full attention was on Henry when he flipped the paper around with a little flourish.
His narrowed eyes spoke confusion. "Something unexpected has happened."
"What? What happened?" Rosella prodded, glancing down at her final cookie before looking up at the paper dangling in Henry's hand. She watched his eyes move left to right, reading the words again, and when he reread it a third time, he let out a soft snort.
Turning to face Rosella's curious eyes, he shook his head at the fortune and handed it to her.
Something unexpected has happened, the paper read.
"Ah," Rosella grinned knowingly, "I see. Unexpected and crazy, these fortunes are."
"Total liars," Henry agreed. "Let's see your final one."
Rosella readily tore into the packaging of the final fortune cookie and snapped the hard shell in half, each hand holding on to a half piece. "I have a feeling this is going to be a big one."
"Do you want me to count down?"
She nodded and he began.
"Three…Two…One."
Pulling out the paper, the change in her expression must have been obvious because Henry spoke up. "You went from happy to surprise to 有点儿失望. What does it say?"
"Uh… yo deearr sure wang?" Rosella had awful flashbacks her butchering of ballet terms that proved her incompatibility with the French language.
Once again, Henry was silent and Rosella spent the seconds rolling the unfamiliar words around on her tongue.
"失望 like…sad. Disappointed."
Rosella's mouth formed an O in understanding, and he motioned for her to share her fortune.
"It says, 'Good things take time'. Nice advice I suppose, but I was hoping for 'you find a pile of gold tomorrow' or 'forget the previous cookie', something like that," Rosella joked, only slightly disappointed that she wouldn't find a pirate's treasure chest sitting at the foot of her bed tomorrow.
A knock didn't let Henry reply and they both turned to the door, eyes narrowing because Henry was supposed to be the last Selected. A head jutted from inside and Lexie's beam was strong enough to cut diamonds.
"I love that you're having fun, but it's five PM and time for closing remarks," Lexie waved them inside.
"Closing remarks? Is she writing an essay?" Rosella mumbled. She caught Henry trying to hide a grin and something warm bloomed inside her. She gave Lexie a thumbs up and the pair stood up, pushing in their chairs. Rosella felt the beginning aches in her backside as they walked the ten or so steps from the table to the door.
Lexie was holding the door open for them so Rosella entered with a brief nod of thanks and heard Henry whisper gratitude. All the boys stood up synchronously— is Caspian counting under his breath? — and began to applaud her. Austin wolf-whistled, Hayden and Jethro whooped, and Jim pumped his fist in the air. Miles slapped his hands together slowly and without expression, but Caspian cheered loud enough for the both of them. Roman played a few notes on his piano and Henry clapped rhythmically from behind her.
The reddest tomato couldn't compare to Rosella's cheeks and she pressed her hands to her heart. The clapping died down when the boys realized she was going to address them as a group. "I've met you all only for a little over five minutes but I know already the rest of this journey is going to be a bumpy one. Laughter, bets, music – we're going to experience it all and, well, I don't know where I'm really going with this, but I wanted to thank you all for signing up and being a part of this wild ride."
Chuckles mixed with applause came back louder and Rosella dropped in a little curtsey. Somewhere behind her, Lexie was splitting her sides in laughter. "I never…imagine this would happen," she heaved out, struggling to form words.
Rosella shook her head at Lexie, and turned back to the boys who had stopped clapping and were now waiting to see what would happen next. They stood two at a table, with Roman in the back (closest to the door) with his electric piano and Caspian's camera bag sitting on a center table.
Lexie got herself together to a point where she could clap her hands for attention and belt out, "Introduction meetings are over! Done! You have made your first impressions with the help of a special item, and Rosella will now decide the first boy to eliminate."
Lexie nodded to Rosella as Henry slipped out from behind her to take his place with the other boys. The bakery was silent in anticipation, everyone's attention on Rosella (except Miles, who was yawning). They clearly didn't expect her to already know so Lexie and the rest were taken aback when Rosella answered immediately.
"The first to be eliminated is Jim Hammer, because of compatibility issues and the fact that" — she glanced at Jim and he nodded— "he actually likes someone else."
All heads swiveled in his direction and, to his credit, he didn't shrink from the attention.
Jethro broke the ice with a loud, "Oooooh, who is it? Do we know her?"
Everyone (except Miles, who seemed determined not to smile) surged around Jim, clapping him on the back in congratulations.
"He's a he, actually, and you might've seen him around."
Rosella let out a mental sigh of relief when nobody jerked back or paused to question Jim's sexual orientation. I'm going to be dating good people. I'm already dating. I'm. Dating.
Deep breaths, Rosella, in and out. Everyone dates. It's easy.
The commotion was broken up when the bell atop the door clanged to admit someone impeccably dressed in a grey cotton blazer and a white button-up shirt underneath. Rosella's body unconsciously leaned right to keep the limousine rolling away outside in view.
"I'm here for the Selection!" The new boy announced triumphantly, as if there were prizes given out for just showing up. His face seemed familiar but Rosella didn't remember ever crossing paths.
Oh no, Lexie does not like late comers. He's screwed. Rosella winced in advance for the boy's ears that were about to be chewed off. Routine being drilled into Lexie's head after years of strict ballet training from professional teachers, Rosella learnt the hard way that Lexie loathed stragglers, or people who arrived without warning or reservation. One summer a couple years back, Lexie left Rosella stranded at the carnival because she showed up thirteen minutes past the set meeting time. This boy was over an hour and a half late, and Rosella wished she didn't have to watch the mouthful Lexie was bound to give him.
From the corner of her eye, Rosella saw Lexie glance at her. Almost like she knew what Rosella was thinking and decided to spite her, Lexie pounced on another option for Rosella to date and popped up out of nowhere in front of him, a shiny grin on her face that matched his eager one.
"What's your name, young sir? What brings you to our humble meeting place?" Lexie inquired, rocking from toe tip to heel.
Standing almost four inches taller than Lexie, the new boy bent down to wrap Lexie in a quick hug. The usually enthusiastic dancer went rigid and he gave her shoulder a few pats before letting go.
"I'm here to participate your Selection, of course. Pardon my tardiness, my gardener only just informed me that today was the first day."
Recovering quicker than Rosella expected, Lexie returned his pat on the arm, and swiveled around to 'present' the Selected. "Wonderful! Please meet your fellow contestants."
The newcomer gave a shallow bow, brown leather ankle boots clinking together softly. If he noticed how overly dressed he was compared to the graphic t-shirts and varsity jackets the others sported, he didn't give it away.
Narrowing his eyes, he lifted a hand to wave in the direction of the Selected. "Miles, fancy meeting you here."
The crowd parted so Miles stood in full view and the stoic observer tipped his head in greeting. "Oliver."
It can't be…
"Everybody, please welcome…" Lexie faltered and turned to the newest Selected.
Straightening the label and adjusting his cuffs, he flashed a million-dollar grin. "Oliver Dartwood, delighted to meet you."
Jaws dropped all around the room. They were in the presence of the heir to the Dartwood Investment Group, one of the largest insurance firms in Illéa. The richest young man in Columbia could have shown up in a clown outfit covered in slime, and thousands would come to kiss his feet. Of course Rosella had seen him before – his face was on the cover of every fashion and business magazine, an eligible bachelor of the highest rank.
Oliver was clearly used to this kind of reaction because he ignored it and swept an arm around Lexie's shoulder, announcing, "So, how does this work, princess?"
Lexie wiggled out of his hold and pointed to Rosella, who was standing to the side, facing the whole bakery from her little corner.
"I'm not the princess. She is."
Oliver's mega-watt grin couldn't have brightened anymore but it did, and he took quick steps to reach the overwhelmed girl. Grasping her hands in his own, the fruity scent of his cologne wafted around Rosella, though not overpoweringly sweet.
"A sparkling gem, the picture-perfect definition of beauty," he crowed. "It's an honor to meet you, milady."
"The pleasure is mine," Rosella choked out. Never in a million years did she imagine meeting the son of the legendary businessman Henry Dartwood and celebrity star Paisley Anderson. Her fingers still in the cocoon of his hands, Rosella felt the shine of childish playfulness coming off him like sound waves.
Lexie had somehow slipped behind the Selected and up behind the counter, and she clapped her hands twice to make her presence known. "Everybody sit."
Bottoms met chairs obediently, bodies twisting to face Lexie. Oliver let go of Rosella's hands and with a parting bow, maneuvered his way to a front table where he could sit and see Lexie without peering over others' heads.
"Here's what's going to happen." Lexie stuck two hands on the countertop like an army commander. All she was missing was a netted helmet and some camouflage cargo pants. Rosella slipped into the same booth as earlier – oops I left my bag on the table.
The sound of the bell was covered by the bang of the door that bounced on its hinges as the second interrupter let himself into the bakery. "Am I late? Please don't tell me I'm late."
"Ah, Everett, I was beginning to wonder where you went." Lexie dipped smoothly under the flap of the counter and made her way around the circular tables.
"Lexie, I'm sorry—" he began. "Ow!"
Like lightning, she jabbed him in the stomach and slapped him on the arm. "No excuses! Apologies don't cut it! I have a Selection to run and you think you can barge in late?"
Everett apologized profusely, trying to fend off Lexie's punches by blocking them with his arms. Lexie just shook her head and kept at it.
Half a minute of yelps later, Rosella couldn't let this poor boy be tortured any longer and she stood up. "Alright, Lexie, that's enough. You're hur-scaring him off." Lexie obviously didn't care for his physical health, so Rosella appealed to the part that wanted more Selected.
Her best friend nodded in acceptance and brushed her hands. "Come sit," she invited him, before turning back to the Selected. Some of the boys flinched when she looked at them, and Lexie chuckled. "Don't mess with Rosella, boys, or you get me."
"Understood ma'am," Caspian saluted. The atmosphere in the bakery smoothed over when Everett laughed it off, and Lexie headed to the counter once again.
Rosella got up silently and shuffled over to stand beside the new boy. "I'm Rosella, it's nice to meet you," she breathed. "Are you okay?"
Brushing wisps of dirty blond hair from his face, he flexed a rather skinny arm. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay."
"Perfect. I think next time, being late should be a last resort." Rosella dragged him over to the booth, as the center tables were all occupied.
Sliding in, he winced. "I am inclined to agree. These sore muscles will remind me next time."
"I thought you were going to be fine?" Rosella teased, sitting opposite.
"Nah, I—" Everett paused and broke eye contact with Rosella to stare at middle of the bakery. Because Rosella was sitting with her back facing Lexie, she turned in confusion to discover that everybody was staring. Blushing crimson from the tips of her ears to the ends of her feet, she gestured for Lexie to begin talking.
Grinning, Lexie made sure she held everyone's attention. "No more interruptions, right? I want to go home and the next person who speaks gets a poke in the stomach."
It was so quiet that Rosella could hear a pin drop, so Lexie continued. "Every Friday at five o'clock, we'll meet in our commonplace; the bakery. It'll be a group hangout. We'll watch the Report together, play some games, have an elimination here and there."
She paused and the boy nodded and murmured got its and okays. Lexie glanced at Rosella to confirm it was alright to use the bakery so often, and the latter nodded.
"The Elite will constitute of four people, which means six— no, five more of you, are going to be eliminated before we get there. Now I'm going to pass around some paper, and you'll write your names for a hat-draw while Ro and I…discuss things."
Table conversations started up immediately, the babbling too indistinct for Rosella to make out individual words. After ticking something off on her big paper pad, Lexie magicked a smaller sheet of paper, several pens, and a top hat seemingly from nowhere. Passing them to the Selected, she made her way to Rosella's booth. Everett excused himself, hands straying to cover his stomach, and Lexie slipped in with the shiniest eyes.
"So…how's it going?"
Rosella couldn't help the grin. "You're evil. Pure evil. Where did you find all these people?"
Cackling, Lexie shot finger guns at her best friend. "They found me, darling, because they're interested in you! C'mon, spill the details. First impressions?"
Rosella cocked her head to think for a moment. "Jim's sweet but he's out. Miles is intimidating but rude and expressionless– I have to keep him though, or you might seriously end up in jail. Caspian…I like him so far. He's inquisitive. Jethro has a kind heart and Austin needs to stay so I can prove him wrong."
Lexie snorted, "Jail schmail. And the others? Roman and Henry and Everett? And Oliver freaking Dartwood, Ro! Oliver Dartwood is at your Selection," she swooned. "I'd love to have him compete for my hand."
"Your hand's taken, Lexie. Marcus wouldn't like to hear you're crushing on Oliver freaking Dartwood. Who, by the way, I cannot believe is here. He's practically royalty! Would be awful if I phoned a newspaper agency and told them he was here so the bakery could get more news coverage?"
Squinting, Lexie looked at Rosella like she had sprouted a tail. "…Best not. Moving on, the other Selected?"
"Roman is a charmer, that's for sure. Angelic voice," Rosella nodded seriously.
Lexie clapped her hands, eyes searching the crowd, "I know. We all heard."
"Everett seems nice, though we spoke a total of probably six words to each other. And Henry makes me laugh."
"Aw," Lexie swooned, hands on her cheeks and body curved like a swan's neck. "Ro's in love!"
Rosella rolled her eyes at Lexie's antics and wanting to exit the conversation, she turned to the Selected. "Are you guys done?"
"Yep," Oliver handed her the hat. "Can I ask what this is for?"
Rosella peered into the velvet top hat, scraggly bits of folder paper mixed inside. She held it out to Lexie, who, jumping out of the booth, grabbed it and checked it quickly, to make sure her instructions were followed.
Shaking the hat tauntingly in front of the Selected, who were all standing shoulder to shoulder around the booth, Lexie revealed her plans. "Rosella is going to blindly pick the two first dates from this hat."
A barrage of whistles and back-slapping ensued, and Lexie held the top hat out to Rosella. Covering her eyes and sticking her hand in, Rosella randomly selected a very folded one and another barely folded one.
The room quieted when Lexie placed the hat on the booth table and Rosella slowly opened the larger one.
"Hayden Wire." She saw him pump his fist in the air, and the guys exchanging looks.
The second date was the smaller paper. "Henry Zhang."
Lexie beamed. "There you have it, boys! Have a wonderful day."
What a wild ride, what a wild ride. We're back!
Thank you to all who've been patient with the story during this hiatus. I never forgot them and was so excited to write when my break started. I'm happy to announce that Rosella and the gang are back to kick butt, take names, and maybe fall in love. With this chapter, every Selected has been introduced and Rosella now commences dating time!
Let me know what you think of the story, readers, and submitters, if you like how I've written our your precious sons (or if you don't, but not too harshly or my fragile heart might crack). Last but not least, happy holidays to everyone! I know 2021 is going to be your year (knock on wood).
With gratitude, Sponk