The Selection Part 5

"No, I don't-"

"Yes," Mom interrupted. "Sorry, honey, but you look exhausted. Please, get her the sleep aids."

"Yes, ma'am." Skinny made another note in my file. "Moving on. Now, I know this is personal, but I've had to discuss it with every contestant, so please don't be shy." He paused. "I need confirmation that you are, in fact, a virgin."

Mom's eyes nearly popped out. So this was why May had to leave.

"Are you serious?" I couldn't believe they'd send someone out to do this. At least send a woman...

"I'm afraid so. If you're not, we need to know that immediately."

Eww. And with my mother in the room. "I know the law, sir. I'm not stupid. Of course I am."

"Consider, please. If you are found to be lying..."

"For goodness' sake, America's never even had a boyfriend!" Mom said.

"That's right." I grabbed that rope, hoping it would end this discussion.

"Very good. I'll just need you to sign this form to confirm your statement."

I rolled my eyes but obeyed. I was glad Illea existed, considering that this very land had nearly been turned to rubble, but these regulations were starting to make me feel like I was suffocating, like there were invisible chains keeping me down. Laws about who you could love, forms about your virginity being intact; it was infuriating.

"I need to go over the rules with you. They are very straightforward, and you shouldn't have a hard time complying. If you have any questions, just speak up."

He looked up from his stack of forms and made eye contact with me.

"I will," I mumbled.

"You cannot leave the palace of your own accord. You have to be dismissed by the prince himself. Even the king and queen cannot force you out. They can tell the prince they do not approve of you, but he makes every decision on who stays and who leaves.

"There is no set timeline for the Selection. It can be over in a matter of days or stretch into years."

"Years?" I asked in horror. The thought of being gone that long set me on edge.

"Not to worry. The prince is unlikely to let it go for very long. This is a moment for him to show his decisiveness, and allowing the Selection to drag on doesn't look good. But should he choose to take it that way, you will be required to stay for as long as the prince needs to make his choice."

My fear must have shown on my face because Mom reached over and patted my hand. Skinny, however, was unfazed.

"You do not arrange your times with the prince. He will seek you out for one-on-one company if he wants it. If you are in a larger social setting and he is present, that is different. But you do not go to him without invitation.

"While no one expects you to get along with the other thirty-four contestants, you are not to fight with them or sabotage them. If you are found laying hands on another contestant, causing her stress, stealing from her, or doing anything that might diminish her personal relations.h.i.+p with the prince, it is in his hands whether or not to dismiss you on the spot.

"Your only romantic relations.h.i.+p will be with Prince Maxon. If you are found writing love notes to someone here or are caught in a relations.h.i.+p with another person in the palace, that is considered treason and is punishable by death."

Mom rolled her eyes at that one, though that might be the only rule that worried me.

"If you are found breaking any of Illea's written laws, you will receive the punishment tied to that offense. Your status as one of the Selected does not put you above the law.

"You must not wear any clothes or eat any food that is not specifically provided for you by the palace. This is a security issue and will be strictly enforced.

"On Fridays you will be present for all Capital Report broadcasts. On occasion, but always with warning, there will be cameras or photographers in the palace, and you will be courteous and allow them to see your lifestyle with the prince.

"For each week you stay at the palace, your family will be compensated. I will give you your first check before I leave. Also, should you not stay at the palace, an aide will help you adjust to your life after the Selection. Your aide will a.s.sist you with final preparations before you leave for the palace, as well as help you seek new housing and employment afterward.

"Should you make it to the top ten, you will be considered an Elite. Once you reach that status, you will be required to learn about the particular inner workings of the life and obligations you would have as a princess. You are not permitted to seek out such details before that time.

"From this moment on, your status is a Three."

"A Three?" Mom and I both exclaimed.

"Yes. After the Selection, it's hard for girls to go back to their old lives. Twos and Threes do fine, but Fours and below tend to struggle. You are a Three now, but the rest of your family remain Fives. Should you win, you and your entire family become Ones as members of the royal family."

"Ones." The word was faint on Mom's lips.

"And should you go to the end, you will marry Prince Maxon and become the crowned princess of Illea and take on all the rights and responsibilities of that t.i.tle. Do you understand?"

"Yes." That part, as big as it sounded, was the easiest to bear.

"Very good. If you could just sign this form saying you've heard all the official rules, and Mrs. Singer, if you could just sign this form saying you received your check, please."

I didn't see the sum, but it made her eyes well. I was miserable at the idea of leaving, but I was sure if I went there only to be sent back the next day, this check alone would provide us with enough money for a very comfortable year. And when I got back, everyone would want me to sing. I'd have plenty of work. But would I be allowed to sing as a Three? If I had to pick one of the career paths of a Three, I think I'd teach. Maybe I could at least help others learn music.

Skinny collected his forms and stood to leave, thanking us for our time and for the tea. I would have to interact with only one more official before I left, and that would be my aide: the person who would guide me through getting from my house to the send-off to the airport. And then ... then I'd be on my own.

Our guest asked if I would show him to the door, and Mom consented, as she wanted to start dinner. I didn't like being alone with him, but it was a short walk.

"One more thing," Skinny said with his hand on the door. "This isn't exactly a rule, but it would be unwise of you to ignore it. When you are invited to do something with Prince Maxon, you do not refuse. No matter what it is. Dinner, outings, kisses-more than kisses-anything. Do not turn him down."

"Excuse me?" Was the same man who made me sign a form affirming my purity suggesting that I let Maxon have it if he wanted it?

"I know it sounds ... unbecoming. But it would not behoove you to reject the prince under any circ.u.mstances. Good evening, Miss Singer."

I was disgusted, revolted. The law, Illean law, was that you were to wait until marriage. It was an effective way of keeping diseases at bay, and it helped keep the castes intact. Illegitimates were thrown into the street to become Eights, and the penalty for being discovered, either by a person or through pregnancy, was jail time. If someone was even suspicious, you could spend a few nights in a cell. True, it restricted me from being intimate with the one person I loved, and that had bothered me. But now that Aspen and I were over, I was glad I'd been forced to save myself.

I was infuriated. Hadn't I just signed a form saying I'd be punished if I broke Illean law? I wasn't above the rules; that was what he'd said. But apparently the prince was. And I felt dirty, lower than an Eight.

"America, honey, it's for you," Mom sang. I'd heard the doorbell myself but was in no rush to answer it. If this was another person asking for an autograph, I didn't think I'd be able to handle it.

I walked down the hall and turned the corner. There, with a handful of wildflowers, was Aspen.

"h.e.l.lo, America." His voice was restrained, almost professional.

"h.e.l.lo, Aspen." Mine was weak.

"These are from Kamber and Celia. They wanted to wish you luck." He closed the distance between us and gave me the flowers. Flowers from his sisters, not from him.

"That's awfully sweet!" Mom exclaimed. I had almost forgotten she was in the room.

"Aspen, I'm glad you're here." I tried to sound as removed as he had. "I've made a mess trying to pack. Could you help me clean?"

With my mom there, he had to accept. As a general rule, Sixes didn't turn down work. We were the same in that way.

He exhaled through his nose and nodded once.

Aspen followed me down the hall. I thought about how many times I'd wanted just this: for Aspen to walk in my house and come to my room. Could the circ.u.mstances have been any worse?

I pushed open the door to my room and Aspen laughed out loud.

"Did you let a dog do your packing?"

"Shut up! I had a little trouble finding what I was looking for." In spite of myself, I smiled.

He went to work, setting things upright and folding s.h.i.+rts. I helped, of course.

"Aren't you taking any of these clothes?" he whispered.

"No. They dress me from tomorrow on out."

"Oh. Wow."

"Were your sisters disappointed?"

"No, actually." He shook his head in disbelief. "The moment they saw your face, the whole house erupted. They're crazy about you. My mom in particular."

"I love your mom. She's always really nice to me."

A few minutes pa.s.sed in silence as my room went slowly back to normal.

"Your picture...," he began, "was absolutely beautiful."

It hurt to have him tell me I was beautiful. It wasn't fair. Not after everything he'd done.

"It was for you," I whispered.

"What?"

"It's just... I thought you were going to be proposing soon." My voice was thick.

Aspen was quiet for a moment, choosing his words.

"I'd been thinking about it, but it doesn't matter anymore."

"It does. Why didn't you tell me?"

He rubbed his neck, deciding.

"I was waiting."

"For what?" What could possibly be worth waiting for?

"For the draft."

That was an issue. It was hard to know whether to wish to be drafted or not. In Illea, every nineteen-year-old male was eligible for it. Soldiers were chosen at random twice a year, to catch everyone within six months of their birthday. You served from the time you were nineteen until you were twenty-three. And it was coming soon.

We'd talked about it, of course, but not in a realistic way. I guess we both hoped that if we ignored the draft, it would ignore us, too.

It was a blessing in that being a soldier meant you were an automatic Two. The government trained you and paid you for the rest of your life. The drawback was you never knew where you would go. They sent you away from your province, for sure. They a.s.sumed you were more likely to be lenient with people you knew. You might end up at the palace or in some other province's local police force. Or you might end up in the army, s.h.i.+pped off to war. Not very many men sent into battle made it home.

If a man wasn't married before the draft, he'd almost always wait. You'd be separated from your wife for four years, at the very best. At the worst, she'd be a young widow.

"I just... I didn't want to do that to you," he whispered.

"I understand."

He straightened up, trying to change the subject. "So what are you taking to the palace?"

"A change of clothes to wear whenever they finally kick me out. Some pictures and books. I've been told I won't need my instruments. Anything I want will be there already. So that little bag there, that's it."

The room was tidy now, and that backpack seemed huge for some reason. The flowers he'd brought looked so bright on my desk compared to the drab things I owned. Or maybe it was just that everything seemed paler now ... now that it was over.

"That's not much," he noted.

"I've never needed very much to be happy. I thought you knew that."

He closed his eyes. "Stop it, America. I did the right thing."

"The right thing? Aspen, you made me believe we could do it. You made me love you. And then you talked me into this d.a.m.n contest. Do you know they're practically s.h.i.+pping me off to be one of Maxon's playthings?"

He whipped his head around to face me. "What?"

"I'm not allowed to turn him down. Not for anything."

Aspen looked sick, angry. His hands clenched up into fists. "Even ... even if he doesn't want to marry you ... he could...?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." He took a few deep breaths. "But if he does pick you ... that'll be good. You deserve to be happy."

That was it. I slapped him. "You idiot!" I whisper-yelled at him. "I hate him! I loved you! I wanted you; all I ever wanted was you!"

His eyes welled up, but I couldn't care. He'd hurt me enough, and now it was his turn.

"I should go," he said, and started heading to the door.

"Wait. I didn't pay you."

"America, you don't have to pay me." He went to leave again.