When I first got the letter, I hid it under my bed. It became crumpled and nudged between my headboard and the wall, gathering dust. I just knew that if my mom saw it, she'd do the same and I'd never have a chance to fill it out and send it in. My mom is a treasure and I love her to bits, but this could be my one chance. When she left to go set up an open house for one of her clients, I crawled on my hands and knees to retrieve the letter. It was thick and luxurious and the printed words glistened in the light. I tried my best to smooth it out on my desk and once it was as flat as I was going to get it, I grabbed my pen and started filling it out. Is this even a good idea? I know that I want a change in my life, but will the disappointment of not being picked end up crushing me? It's not like I'm unhappy here in Lakedon. I love my mom, and helping her out at her Realtor's office is okay. Our house is big, our neighbors are nice, and I have a good life set out for me. But it's all just so boring. So many people would kill for a life like mine, but I can't help but want more. I feel like I'm stuck in a time loop. The world feels hazy and gray, and I've yet to experience a gust of chilly wind to break me out of my trance. The Selection could be just what I need. And so, despite how I knew my mom would feel, I folded my letter up and headed for the door to the province office.

I realized as soon as I arrived that I was drastically underdressed. All of the other girls in the miles-long line had beautifully curled hair cascading down their back with natural makeup that just screamed, "Pick me!" and I hadn't even thought to put on a nicer shirt. Oh well, this simple white button-down will have to do, even if it is a bit wrinkled. I tried my best to smooth it down as I got in line. There are so many girls here and I can't begin to imagine how many have already submitted their forms- and how many will in the next few days. I waited until close to the end of the submission period to fish out my form and fill it out. I was nervously debating in my head for weeks about the decision when I decided to just go for it. If I let myself dawdle any longer, I would likely miss my chance, and who knows when my next chance to be free would be. I might have a secure and easy life for me lined up, but sometimes the easy life isn't the one you want or need. I want to be able to fail on my own, learn from those failures, and try again. Having my mom be a guardian to my every waking decision seems awful.

I shuffled forward as the line dwindled, wringing my hands together in nervousness. I could see faint flashes of the cameras as girls stood in front of a plain backdrop, smiling widely. Hurriedly, I fluffed up my long black hair and twisted the waves into smooth ringlets, hoping they'd stay for just a few minutes. When it was my turn, I submitted my papers and stood in front of the backdrop.

"Remember to smile, Sweetie," the middle-aged man running the camera said as he glanced down at the screen to assess the frame.

I tried to flash the brightest smile I could, but it felt so phony and fake. I'm excited, I had to remind myself. Excited, just for a different reason than most. I relaxed a bit, just a bit, and the camera flashed white. I quickly hopped to the side, said a "Thank you," and left, clutching my purse strap to my chest.

"I did it!" I muttered to myself with a smile when I was far enough from the line that no one would hear. "I really did it!" I was proud because I just took my first step toward independence.

When I got home, everything was quiet and still. My mom wasn't home yet, so I decided to get a head start on dinner. I thawed the chicken, seasoned it, and put it in the oven, using the downtime as it was baking to saute some green beans. When I heard keys rattling in the front door lock, the house was warm and smelled of a delicious meal to come. "Hiiii Mom," I droned out, taking the chicken out of the oven. It was sizzling and steaming, and I set it down to rest on the stovetop. "How was work?"

I turned around and took the oven mitts off my hands, leaning back onto the granite counter. I watched my mom hang up her coat and slip her shoes off, slightly massaging her shoulder. "Ah, it was good! We got a few offers for them, so we'll be looking at a sale in the next few days! I have some more open houses coming up, why don't you join me? You hardly ever join me anymore."

I let out a small laugh that sounded a bit more like a huff. "School has just been really busy, y'know?" I smiled the best I could and turned back to the food, prodding at the green beans that were already done. "You said that you want me to get into real estate soon too. This is how I'll do that!" I busied myself with the chicken, cutting one of the breasts in half to see if it was cooked all the way through.

"Vanny, you know that you don't need to work that hard! You always have a place at my company. You always used to talk about how we'd be a Mother-Daughter duo, you know." She walked up behind me and clapped her tan hand on my shoulder. "Stress less! Besides, getting experience in the field will be more helpful than a few good grades."

I rolled my eyes while facing away from her so she wouldn't see. "Okay Mom," I said just to placate her. I put the chicken and green beans on two plates, one for me and one for her. "Let's eat first though. You know real estate talk always works up an appetite."

"Ha! Fine!" She laughed, taking her plate and going to sit with me at the table.

We ate in near silence, digging into the food quickly. We were always fast eaters. Mom says she was always that way and that it's in her DNA, but I think its because she came from a family of eight kids and needed to scarf down her food fast to ensure no one else stole it. This is one of the moments where I looked at her with pride. While her having chicken half hanging out of her mouth isn't prideful at all, she did a good job today. She does a good job nearly every day. When I was younger, I remember her coming home in a grumpy mood, sighing heavily when she thought I wasn't listening. She barely ate her food then. Now she seems back to normal, and it's nice that she's succeeding at her job. She's made a name for herself…something I wanted to do for myself too. But on my own. I debated telling her about what I did. If I told her I submitted my name into the Selection, she'd be pissed. It would ruin her plans of me getting my real estate license and joining her at her company. But what is done is done, and even if she did get mad, it's not like she'd be able to find a way to get my name out of the Selection. Right? On second thought, maybe it is better to just not say a word. It's not like I'll be picked anyway, and what she doesn't know won't kill her.

I gathered the dishes when we were done and ran them under water before quickly dashing up to my room. "Night Mom!" I said in a rush, bounding up the stairs two at a time. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and shimmied into my favorite fleece pajamas before sliding into bed. I was excited for the next few days to pass by. Just a few days until The Report. A few days until I know what my fate is. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts be filled with a future where my actions are my own.