The Selection Stories Collection (62 page)

“Same here,” I promised.

The next day was much of the same, though I’d never been disappointed to see the sun shine before. The worry was so heavy that it was all we could do to stay put. I ached to run, to put some of the energy into
something
.

After lunch, our return to the Women’s Room was staggered. Elise was reading as I sat with my sheet music, but Kriss and Celeste were missing. Maybe ten minutes later, Kriss walked in with full arms. She sat down with drawing paper and a collection of colored pencils.

“What are you working on?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Whatever keeps me busy.”

She sat for a long time with a red pencil in her hand, hovering over the paper.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she finally said. “I know that people are in danger, but I love him. I don’t want to leave.”

“The king won’t let anyone die,” Elise offered comfortingly.

“But people already have died.” Kriss wasn’t argumentative, only worried. “I just need to think about something else.”

“I bet Silvia would have work for us,” I offered.

Kriss gave a single chuckle. “I’m not that desperate.” She put the tip of the pencil down, making a smooth curve across the page. It was a start. “Everything will be fine. I’m sure of it.”

I rubbed my eyes, looking at my music. I needed to switch things up.

“I’m going to hop over to one of the libraries. I’ll be right back.”

Elise and Kriss each gave me a cursory nod as they attempted to focus on their tasks, and I stood to leave.

I wandered down the hall to one of the rooms on the far end of the floor. There were a few books on those shelves I’d been wanting to read. The door of the parlor swung open quietly, and I realized I wasn’t alone. Someone was crying.

I searched for the source and found Celeste, hugging her knees to her chest, sitting on the wide perch of a windowsill. I felt immediately awkward. Celeste
did not
cry. Up until this moment, I hadn’t even been sure she was capable.

The only thing to do was leave, but as she wiped her eyes, she caught sight of me.

“Ugh!” she whined. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I was looking for a book.”

“Well, get it and go. You get everything you want anyway.”

I stood there blankly for a moment, confused by her words. She heaved a sigh and pushed herself up from her seat. Snatching one of her many magazines, she flung the glossy pages at me, and I caught it clumsily.

“See for yourself. Your little speech on the
Report
pushed you over the top. They love you.” Her voice was angry, accusing. As if I’d planned this all along.

I turned the magazine right side up, finding half of the page full of pictures of the four remaining girls with a graph beside our photos. Above the image, an elegant headline asked
Who do YOU want as Queen?
Next to my face, a wide line shot out, showing thirty-nine percent of the people were pulling for me. It wasn’t as high as I thought it should be for whoever won. but it was much higher than the others!

Quotes from those polled edged the graph, saying that Celeste was positively regal, though she was in third. Elise was so poised, it said, but she also only had eight percent of the population pulling for her. By my picture were opinions that made me want to cry.

“Lady America is just like the queen. She’s a fighter. It’s more than wanting her; we need her!”

I stared at the words. “Is . . . is this real?”

Celeste snatched back the magazine. “Of course it’s real. So go ahead, marry him or whatever. Be princess. Everyone will love it. The sad little Five gets a crown.”

She started walking away, her sour mood ruining the most incredible news I’d gotten during the entirety of the Selection.

“You know, I don’t even see why this matters so much to you. Some very happy Two is going to marry you anyway. And you’re still going to be famous when this is over,” I accused.

“As a has-been, America.”

“You’re a model, for goodness’ sake!” I yelled. “You’ve got everything.”

“But for how long?” she shot back. Then quieter. “How long?”

“What do you mean?” I said, my voice becoming softer. “Celeste, you’re beautiful. You’re a Two for the rest of your life.”

She was shaking her head before I was even done speaking. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever felt trapped by your caste? Yes, I’m a model. I can’t sing. I can’t act. So when my face isn’t good enough anymore, they’re going to forget all about me. I’ve got maybe five years left, ten if I’m lucky.”

She stared at me. “You’ve spent your whole life in the background. I can see you miss it sometimes. Well, I’ve spent mine in the spotlight. Maybe it’s a stupid fear to you, but it’s real for me: I don’t want to lose it.”

“That makes sense, actually.”

“Yeah?” she dabbed under her eyes, gazing out the window.

I walked over and stood beside her. “Yeah. But, Celeste, did you ever even like him?”

She tilted her head to the side, thinking. “He’s cute. And a great kisser,” she added with a smile.

I grinned back. “I know.”

“I know you do. That was a serious blow to my plan, when I found out how far you two had gone. I thought I had him in the palm of my hand, making him dream about the possibility of more.”

“That’s no way to get to someone’s heart.”

“I didn’t need his heart,” she confessed. “I just needed him to want me enough to keep me. Fine, it’s not love. I need the fame more than I need the love.”

For the first time, she wasn’t my enemy. I understood that now. Yes, she was conniving when it came to the competition, but that was her being desperate. She simply felt she had to intimidate us out of something that most of us
wanted
but that she felt she
needed
.

“First of all, you do need the love. Everyone does. And it’s okay to want that right along with the fame.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t interrupt.

“Second of all, the Celeste Newsome I know doesn’t need a man to get fame.”

She laughed out loud at that. “I have been a bit vicious,” she said, more playful than ashamed.

“You ripped my dress!”

“Well, at the time I needed it!”

And suddenly all of it was funny. All the arguing, the wicked faces, the little tricks—they felt like a really long joke. We stood there for a minute, laughing over the past few months, and I found myself wanting to look after her the way I did Marlee.

Surprisingly, her laughter faded away quickly, and she averted her eyes as she spoke.

“I’ve done so many things, America. Horrible, shameful things. Part of it was not reacting well to the stress of this, but mostly it was because I was ready to do anything to get that crown, to get to Maxon.”

I was a little shocked as I watched my hand rise up to pat her on the shoulder.

“Honestly,” I started, “I don’t think you need Maxon to get anything you want out of life. You’ve got the drive, the talent; and probably, most importantly, you’ve got the ability. Half of the country would give anything to have what you have.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s not that I’m completely unaware of how lucky I am. It’s just hard to accept the possibility of . . . I don’t know, being less.”

“Then don’t accept it.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t stand a chance, did I? It’s been you the whole time.”

“Not only me,” I admitted. “Kriss. She’s at the top, too.”

“Do you need me to break her leg? I could make it happen.” She chuckled to herself. “I’m kidding.”

“You want to come back with me? It’s hard to sit through the days right now, and you do add a little something to the mix.”

“Not right now. I don’t want the others to know I was crying.” She gave me a pleading look.

“Not a word, I promise.”

“Thanks.”

There was a tense pause, as if one of us ought to say more. It felt significant, this moment of finally, truly seeing Celeste. I wasn’t sure if I could let go of everything she’d done to me, but at least I understood now. There was nothing to add, so I gave her a little wave and left.

Only once I closed the door did I realize that I’d forgotten to grab a book. And then I thought of the glossy chart with my smiling face and the huge number beside it. I’d have to tug my ear at dinner. Maxon needed to know about this. I hoped that maybe if he knew how the people felt about me, it would raise his feelings a little closer to the surface.

As I reached the corner to turn toward the Women’s Room, a familiar face reminded me that I had even bigger plans to think about right now. I’d told Maxon that I’d find us a way to get to August, and I felt certain our only shot was coming my way.

Aspen walked down the hall, seeming even bigger and taller than the last time I’d seen him.

I looked around, seeing if we were alone. There were a few guards down the hall just past him, but they were out of earshot.

“Hey,” I said, beckoning him over. I bit my lip, hoping that Aspen would be as able as I thought he was. “I need your help.”

Without batting an eye, he responded. “Anything.”

I
WAS RIGHT
. A
SPEN HAD
every corner of the palace memorized, and he knew exactly how to get us out of it.

“Are you quite sure about this?” Maxon asked as we got dressed in my room the following evening.

“We need to know what’s going on. I have no doubt we’ll be safe,” I assured him.

We spoke through the cracked-open bathroom door as he dropped the pieces of his suit to the floor and climbed into the denim and cotton a Six would wear. Aspen’s clothes were going to be a bit big on Maxon, but they would do. Thankfully, Aspen had found a smaller guard to borrow clothes from for me, but even then I had to roll up the hem of the pants several times to find my feet.

“You seem to trust this guard a lot,” Maxon commented, and I couldn’t figure out the tone he was using. Perhaps he was anxious.

“My maids say he’s one of the best you have. And he got me to the safe room that time the Southerners came, when everyone was running late. He always looks ready to go, even when things are quiet. I have a good feeling about him. Trust me.”

I heard the rustling of clothes as he continued. “How did you know he could get us out of the palace?”

“I didn’t. I just asked.”

“And he simply told you?” Maxon replied, astonished.

“Well, I told him it was for you, of course.”

He made a sound, something like a sigh. “I still don’t think you should come.”

“I’m going, Maxon. Are you done yet?”

“Yes. I need to get my shoes on.”

I opened the door, and after a quick once-over, Maxon started laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m used to seeing you in gowns.”

“You look a bit different when you’re not in a suit yourself.” And he did, but not in any way that was close to comical. Even though Aspen’s clothes were too big, Maxon looked good in plain old denim. The shirt had short sleeves, and I got a peek at those strong arms I’d only ever seen the one time in the safe room.

“These pants are far too heavy. Why are you so partial to jeans?” he asked, remembering my request from my very first day in the palace.

I shrugged. “I just like them.”

He smiled at me, shaking his head a bit. He walked over to my closet, not asking if it was all right to open it. “We need something to hold your pants up or it’s going to be a very scandalous evening. Well, more so than it already is.”

Maxon pulled out a dark-red sash and returned to me with it, lacing it through my belt loops.

I couldn’t say why, but this felt meaningful. My heart pounded, and for a minute I wondered if he could hear it shouting how much I loved him. If so, he ignored it in favor of the business at hand.

“Listen,” he said, making a little knot in the sash, “what we’re doing is very dangerous. If something happens, I want you to run. Don’t even try to get back to the palace. Find a family who will hide you through the night.”

Maxon stepped back and looked into my worried eyes. I tilted my head. “Right now, asking a family to hide me is almost as dangerous as facing the rebels. People might be upset that we girls aren’t leaving the competition.”

“If the article Celeste showed you is right, then people might be proud of you.”

I wanted to tell Maxon I disagreed, but a knock at the door interrupted us. He went over to answer it, and quickly Aspen and a second guard walked into my dimly lit room.

“Your Majesty,” Aspen said with a small bow. “Lady America has informed me that you need to get outside the palace walls.”

Maxon sighed deeply. “Yes. And I hear you’re the man to help me. Officer . . .” He looked for Aspen’s badge. “Leger.”

Aspen nodded. “It’s not very difficult, actually. The secrecy might be more of an issue than getting out in the first place.”

“How so?”

“Well, I have to assume there’s a reason for you to be doing this at night, without the king’s knowledge. If we’re specifically asked,” Aspen said, glancing over to the other guard, “I don’t think we could lie to him.”

“And I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m hoping to be able to reveal this to my father soon enough, but, for tonight, discretion is imperative.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Aspen hesitated. “I don’t think the lady should go.”

As if he’d won the argument, Maxon looked at me with a face that said
See!

I stood as tall as I could manage. “I’m not just going to sit here. I’ve been chased by rebels once already, and I’m fine.”

“But those weren’t Southerners,” Maxon countered.

“I’m going,” I said. “And we’re wasting time.”

“To be clear, no one agrees with you.”

“To be clear, I don’t care.”

Sighing, Maxon pulled the knit hat over his hair. “So what do we need to do?”

“The plan is pretty simple,” Aspen said decisively. “Twice a week, a truck is sent out for groceries. Sometimes the kitchen staff simply falls short of the needs for the week, so the truck goes out again to pick up whatever’s lacking. Usually people from the kitchen go, along with a few guards.”

“And no one will suspect?” I asked.