Brenan didn't lie. My application came exactly three days after Friday's Report, and I decided immediately that I wasn't going to let it out of my sight. I almost had Cooper, my older brother, hide it for me, but I decided that the only way I could make sure it was safe was to hold onto it myself. It functioned as a bookmark until I could fill it out with Blaire, by best friend, as we'd get ready for our Application photos together (painted nails and all) after work.
The Beautiful and the Damned, by the way. Now that was a great book. The English was hard to follow at times. But it was really good.
There isn't typically too much going on at Café Impresso; being there makes you feel like you're living in slow motion. Though we were open for nine hours (from seven to four on business days), it felt like all day could be wasted at the café. Maybe that was why I liked it.
Sunlight streamed through windows covering the majority of the walls from floor to ceiling, and little rainbows bounced off of the faux-crystal counters, stationary tables, and serving stations. The entire café smelled of brewing chamomile, lemon-raspberry scones, and camellias. My own personal heaven.
My parents used to take me to Café Impresso on the morning of my birthday every year. They each had a cup of coffee, and let me order whatever I wanted (which, every time without fail would be the peach cobbler, which was baked to order, topped with a spoonful of vanilla ice cream). It was what made my birthday so much more special every year: not expensive gifts or getting my own party, but having an hour and a half of attention from my parents. Growing up as one of six children, these seconds of individualized attention were seconds fused from gold. That was why, when I was looking for a job, I was drawn here: I always remembered the café being a happy place, where I got peach cobbler and ice cream, and what's not fun about that? Actually, though, I love my job at Impresso, as it's a very relaxed environment where I don't really feel stressed, and it pays well (there was a reason that I was only allowed to come here for my birthday…). And if I plan to get into college by my early twenties, a good salary wasn't optional.
"Aspen, could you take orders?" Mona, one of the waitresses the café has amongst their staff, asks me. I take a deep breath and nod, braving table after table of young adult women and who I can only assume to be their mothers. It's only been four days since the announcement, and the very first forms in Waverly were brought here yesterday, but it's easy to predict exactly how the Selection will affect the sales at Café Impresso. They've already skyrocketed, and by this point, at three in the afternoon, we had made almost double the combined money we made on Monday and Tuesday. I guess it pays to be located a block away from the Waverly Service Office…
"I'll take a coffee, two creams and one sugar. If you have any of your Oregano Pasta, I'd love some of that-"
"I still have an hour before I get off." I smile as my best friend moves the menu from in front of her face.
"Hmmmm, too bad." Blaire interrupts. "That line is ridiculous, and we have to get ready so we can submit our forms before it gets dark and they shut down!"
I shake my head with a smile. "Fine. You're right. I'll see if I can get off early."
"And if you could get my coffee too-"
"Nope. No time for coffee. We have an obnoxiously long line to wait in"
…
"I've always enjoyed coming to your house to Persephone's shower singing." Blaire begins as we step through the front door.
"Screeching" I correct.
Blaire laughs. "Right, right."
We sneak up the stairs, careful not to disturb Persephone's choruses of "Rundown" by Oliviander. Shamefully, I have to stop and brace the wall in attempts to steady myself before I collapse in hysterics, but Blaire pulls me along until we're in my room. With the door sealed tight, I let out a breath of relief and collapse against the bed, letting the comforters absorb my figure and leave an imprint.
But we waste no time.
Blaire ripped open my makeup drawer and began to apply eyeliner and mascara (as clearly she was confident enough with her own makeup application abilities) while I floated to my closet to find clothes. The tank top I was currently wearing was made sticky with the honey I tried to glob into someone's drink, and all in all, I was never going to get accepted in the state of disarray I looked to be.
"Is your white romper in the wash?" Blaire asked absentmindedly, not breaking eye contact with the mirror.
"Ooh, mine! You can't steal that one!" I can see my friend's pout from the mirror. I raced into Chandler's room (even though I knew she'd kill me if she knew that I was in there) to steal my favorite romper back, only to find a silver barbed tassel necklace and decide that she probably wont miss it. After pulling a few more things from my closet (a navy and white stitched drape sweater and knee length gladiators) as I wander back to my own room, I change and find myself standing next to Blaire. Her mouth drops.
"Your wardrobe is so much better than mine…" She whines, taking me in. "I'm serious, that was the perfect outfit, you look stunning! No one's gonna stand a chance now."
I bow mockingly, trying to shrug off her compliment. "Do my hair?"
"Of course, milady!" Blaire chuckles and shoves off of the white wood vanity seat. After brushing through my chocolate tresses, she Dutch-Fishtail braids my hair in the back and moves it to my left shoulder, tying it off at the bottom. After pulling the braid apart to make it appear thicker, she pronounces me finished and gets to work on my makeup, which she knows will be better if someone other than myself does it. It wasn't like I couldn't apply makeup or anything. I wore it almost every day. But I would always be better if I had an older sister who would teach me, like the way Blaire's older sister, Eilley, did when she was too young to even wear it. Blaire gives my skin some color with bronzer and tinted moisturizer before applying the rest: black eyeliner, mascara, and brick red matte lipstick. She gives me and ok before swiping on a final sheen of bright red gloss on her own lips and pulling my hand down to the kitchen.
I remove my book from the coffee table in the Family Room to pull out my form and favorite black pen, and she does the same from her bag. I no longer bat an eyelash that the only utensil Blaire will write in is a purple ballpoint she needs a replacement of every other month.
Blaire and I situate ourselves around my kitchen's island, both ignoring the half-empty glass of milk that Cooper never finished this morning, and all of the papers concerning my dad's upcoming trip to Yukon, which lay scattered across the granite tabletop. No, this needed our undivided attention, no matter how messy…
Nope. I lied. I couldn't concentrate with the kitchen looking like that.
I quickly remove the glass and wipe down the ring it left on the counter, and straiten up the papers. I'm about to grab the counter-cleaner spray when Blaire yells at me to sit down and concentrate.
There. That's better.
Now ready to focus, I uncap my pen and examine the parts to form. They're all basic things that are hard to mess up on or impress with, which makes me a bit suspicious.
Name: Aspen Noelle Marx
Age: 18
Province: Waverly
Caste: Four
Occupation: Barista at Café Impresso in Central Waverly
Hair Color: Dark chestnut brown, without the auburn undertones
Eye Color: Dark chocolate brown
Skin Tone: Olive
Height: 5 feet 7 inches
Weight: 122 pounds
Languages Spoken: English, Italian, and Bulgarian
Hobbies: Reading, tennis, running, learning, calligraphy, travelling
Finished; that wasn't so bad.
"Ooh! Show me your form, Aspen." Blaire demands, after realizing that every portion on her own application was filled out. I sheepishly hand it over as she presents me hers.
"Blaire, have you-"
"Hey! You've never even been out of the province before! You can't say that you like travelling when you never have!"
"Have you ever been skiing? And I've never seen your paintings before. You hate math! Plus, you can't speak Mandarin! Why did you put all of this stuff down?"
"Hey! Every actress bolsters their resume." She proclaims proudly.
I can't help but smile at her. "Fine. Then I get travelling. Remember when I went to Fennley to see my mom's family?"
"Oh right, right. I remember. Sorry!" I nod my head to tell her that its fine, but her attention is already averted.
"Oh my god. It's already five? We have like, no time! We have to go, like, right now!" Blaire tugs me on my wrist again, pulling me out of my house and leading me to my destiny.
Yeah. That whole chapter was kind of weak. And short. I'm genuinely sorry for that. It didn't turn out quite as I hoped it would.
Anyways, we have our first two submissions! Thank you so much to Happygreenbirdy and 4Love4Love4 for their amazing forms! Continue to send in forms, guys, we still have a LOT of room left to fill!
Drop a review, also! I didn't actually get any on my first chapter, but I'd really appreciate feedback!
