heywassuphelloo: Yeah, not fun but, meh. Also, The Selection Series was sort of my inspiration for this so if you ever need to fangirl with someone about it. Have you read The Heir? The end is a heartbreaker! I can't wait until The Crown comes out and the movie. Eee! The feels!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to my good friend FiFi. I hope the otp tragedy of this story won't disappoint you.

I glance back to the three girls and see them hauling out a dark blue dress. It's a bit longer than knee length and quite flowy, with a waist of glimmering beads. I guess it's what these people would call simple. Back home in Jersey, this is a wedding dress, only to be bought and worn to the fanciest of occasions. Not for dinner.

Karen carries it over to me, nodding for me to get undressed.

"Um, don't I get any privacy?" I question, trying to squirm my way out of this situation. She only shakes her head, turning to Emma for help. She's obviously the leader of the trio.

"Oh please," Emma waves a hand at me, "it's nothing we haven't seen before."

Reluctantly, I unzip my dress, letting it fall to the floor and using my arms to cover myself. If there's something I'm not, it's body confident. Thank god I'm wearing a bra.

Emma proceeds to drape the fabric over my body, letting it fall around me. The sleeves are a bit off the shoulder, giving it a snow white sort of feel. I run my hands over it, smoothing out the edges. I move over to the mirror, facing it with my perfected "smile."

"Looks great guys. Thanks." But, of course when I think I'm done, the maids have something else in store for me.

"Oh, we're not done yet," Emma chirps.

"We're not?" I whine. What else could they possibly do to me?

Astrid bends down and begins to unzip my boots. My instinct is to kick her away, but I fight the urge, realizing that she's only trying to help. She slips something cool and soft over my feet. I almost stumble in them. I look down at my feet, Astrid looks adoringly at them, while I try to hold in a scream.

High heels?!

"Um, where does it say that you guys have the right to kill my feet?" I joke. They all laugh and I'm suddenly jealous of their small heeled clogs. Some people get all the luck.

"You'll get used to them. And who knows, maybe you'll love them," Emma reassures.

"Yeah, if I ever get into Barbie feet," I grumble, starting to regret agreeing to come here. Even though back home wasn't necessarily safe, I could at least enjoy myself more than I am right now.

About an hour later, the girls are finally finished with me. I feel as though someone has thrown 12 layers of dense, compact cake onto my face. In Jersey, most people are poor and can't afford makeup. Maybe some blush or lipstick, if you're lucky, but that's about it. If only Grace could see me now. I think she'd have a heart attack. I laugh at the thought of Grace here. She would stick out almost as much as me. Grace and her family were a lot richer than mine are, but that doesn't stop us from being non-biological sisters. Ever since 4th grade.

I strut over to the mirror, a shocked look over taking my face. "Woah." I whisper. My hair is woven into intricate braids and ringlets, accompanied by tiny gems and jewels. They left some wisps of hair in the front to frame my face.

My makeup is anything but subtle. A girly, pink shade is glossed over my lips. Streaks of amber, gold and silver elegantly color my eyelids, while dramatic black liner fans out, creating a winged look.

"What are you guys doing working here? You should have your own salon. You should have your own beauty line!"

They chuckle in return, Astrid fixing a ringlet. "I take it you like it," she questions.

"I…It's beautiful, but…it's not me." A look of disappointment takes their face.

"Don't get me wrong, you guys made me look beautiful. More beautiful than I ever thought I could be. But, I'm just not…this," I gesture to my body.

"Maybe next time we could try something a little more subtle?" I try.

"We'll see what we can do," Karen promises.

"What now?" I question.

"Now, you go to dinner and wow everyone there," Emma squeezes my arm before opening the door. A tall, handsome guard is waiting for me. Probably to lead me down to the dining room, seeing as I'd get terribly lost without someone. His eyes seem to widen at the sight of me.

"Take a picture," I scoff. This seems to remind him of his duty, because his eye are no longer saucers as he offers me his arm.

"So, what's your name?"

"Carl," He answers.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Any thoughts so far?

-AND