CHAPTER 5

Guys, if anyone actually reads this I apologize for not updating this in a while. I had a hard time writing this chapter, so it may suck more than usual. Anyway, here it is.

Disclaimer: all rights to Kiera Cass

The next morning I woke up with Dawson snuggled up beside me. It took me a while to figure out why he was there. Porter always slept in the same room as Dawson, and if Porter wasn't around for some obscure reason Dawson always slept with me because he didn't like being in the dark alone.

Realizing Porter would never sleep with Dawson again made me cry for what seemed like the 100th time since last night, and I had to leave the room so I wouldn't wake him up.

Today the selection officials would be coming to get me ready for the castle, augh just what I need. I got dressed then woke Dawson up for breakfast.

All the interviews and palace officials went by in a sort of hazy blur. Around 5 pm, an official came who was wearing a different uniform than all the others that caught my attention.

"Portia Hughes?" she asked.

"Yeah that's me" I replied wearily.

"Let me introduce myself" she said. "I'm Marlee. Queen America sent me out here because she heard about what happened to you and your family on the night of the report."

"Ok so?" I didn't know if I could trust her, I may have trust issues, but I assumed she'd be trustworthy enough.

"She requested that I ask whether you would like to stay home until after your brother's funeral, and come to the palace a few days late."

"Porter's funeral is supposed to be the day after tomorrow, and I know that I'm supposed to go to the palace tomorrow morning. Wouldn't that put me behind on the Selection though?" I asked Marlee.

"The girls normally arrive in the evening, and they don't meet the prince until after breakfast the next morning, but we can postpone the individual meetings until the afternoon. We can do that if you move Porter's funeral to tomorrow morning"

"We could do that." My dad said. How long had he been stand behind me?

"Okay then." Marlee said. "I guess I will see you in a few days." Only after she got up did I notice the deep scars on her hands, as if she might have been caned a decade or two ago. Marlee left our tiny house and walked through the small mob of people that had gathered on either side of the side walk with her scarred hands in her pockets.

A tear that I been holding in had finally escaped my eye. Dad saw and grasped my hand gently. His hands were callused even though he rarely does any house work. My father's hands reminded me of Porter's. Porter's fingertips were always rough like leather from hours of playing the guitar without a pick. He never used a pick even though they were always cheap, Porter thought they were a waste of money. That's just how Porter was. He insisted on giving the money our dad gave us for picks to a little girl who was an 8.

Porter and I were walking down the street coming home from getting milk at the store when a five year old girl approached us. She stopped and front of us and looked up with big, pleading eyes. Porter crouched down to match her height. The girl's thin face was streaked with dirt. You could barely see freckles on her prominent chhekbones. Her wide eyes begged us silently.

"Please" she said weakly "I haven't eaten a meal in daayyss. Could you please give me some food?"

"Where are your parents?" Porter asked her.

"No. My…my mommy died a month ago, and I never knew my daddy." The girl started crying. Porter hugged her and rubbed between her shoulder blades in small circles.

"Here" he said "I know its not much but it's all I have."

"Oh thank you thank you thank you" she said. The girl gave Porter another hug before saying "I'm Kyleigh. What's your name?"

"Porter, don't tell her your name!" I whispered urgently. I'd never been as kind as he was.

"Why not?" he said "We gave this girl our money! She's a five year old orphan and to top that off, she's an eight! She trusted us Portia." He looked at me so hard I felt as if I'd been turned to stone.

"I'm Porter" he said. "and this is my twin sister Portia." Kyleigh smiled at us one more time before running off to the general store. Porter sat down on a nearby bench, cupped his head in his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees. I didn't even need to ask him what was wrong –a twin thing I guess- before he told me what was wrong.

"It's just not fair" he told me.

"What's not fair?" I asked.

"This whole caste system. Twos are just throwing away food while eights are starving, even fives and sixes are starving. I mean the people who can't fend for themselves, what happens to them? They get basically thrown out and left to die, homeless and starving. At least we know where our next meals our coming from, at least we get a chance to make money. That girl, did you hear her? She's a homeless orphan. No one deserves that. Not even the lowest, low down criminal. Everyone has rights. Everyone deserves a chance to be treated equally."