Friday, July 19, 2013

7.19.13: The Selection


            So, I’ve been in Spain for the past two weeks aka no blog posts. But, luckily, while I was there, I started reading a book called “The Selection,” by Kiera Cass. I cannot put it down. I’m not even a quarter through it and I love it.
            This book is a modern day fairy tale fused with the hunger games minus the gore and maybe with a little bit of Nicholas Sparks.
            Since I’m not too far into the book yet, I’ve decided to write down what I think will happen within the upcoming chapter(s). All characters, personalities, scenarios, places, etc. are strictly the wonderfully talented Kiera Cass’. If you’d like to find out what really happens…? Read her book. I highly recommend it.

            We were lined up, our poofy dresses bumping into one another. Orders were being barked at us; mainly things along the lines of, “as the TV monitor passes, smile like you’re in love with Prince Maxon.” I rolled my eyes at Sylvia, who was always teaching us our etiquette. How could I pretend that I was in love with Maxon? I haven’t even met his majesty yet. The viewing was the first time that we were meeting Maxon, he was meeting us, and the world was seeing the selection. Getting to knowing him alone would be exhausting considering I didn’t want to get to know him. Love him? Yeah, doubt it. That was basically like saying, “you and Aspen are going to live happily ever after and be perfectly content living in a lower caste.” That was never going to happen now. Especially since I was a three thanks to the selection and he was still a six. Plus he’d broken up with me before I even got my butt hauled all the way up here. The thought of Aspen sent a pang throughout my chest. I still loved him.
            But I didn’t have time to think about that right now. The man behind the camera, I’d already forgotten his name, was pointing at his mouth, indicating for us to smile. I looked to my left and then to my right where the rest of the 34 girls were adjusting smiles on their faces. I noticed Celeste, looking especially devious this morning. What had I gotten myself into?
            The doors to the Great Room swung open and in walked Maxon followed by the King and Queen. Maxon looked as stiff and rigid as he had when they first announced the selection. Could he be nervous? No. He was the prince, of course not. I pushed the thought out of my head.
            As Maxon began moving toward us, the TV monitors focused on him. I was grateful. The muscles in my face were starting to ache. My smile dulled a little out of pure exhaustion (I don’t know if I’ve ever smiled so long before).
            Maxon moved down the line, analyzing and judging each and every one of us. It was disgusting. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.
            When he got to me, though, he paused and did a double take. It must’ve been my red hair. He reached out to me, offering his hand. Because I could not deny any request of the prince (a rule of the selection), I placed my hand in his. He bent down and gently placed his lips to the back of my hand. 34 heads, along with every TV monitor in the room, whipped in my direction. I tried to conceal the blush playing at my cheeks and the shock that covered my face. I could just see mom gaping at the TV. and May would surely be squealing happy things about how Maxon and I were going to fall in love. Dad would be smiling behind his newspaper. And Aspen…? What would he do…?
            Before it had even started, it was over and Maxon's lips were leaving my hand. I blinked my eyes a couple of times, unsure if it were real or not. I didn’t collect my thoughts until Maxon had already proceeded to move down the line. He showed a couple of other girls favor with a caress of their face or a nod…but not one was kissed like I had been. 
            For the first time since aspen had let me go, I felt something inside of me and it welled up like a balloon in my heart: hope. That split second made me feel special again and maybe, just maybe, I could win this thing. 

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