The Selection (The Selection #1)

The Selection (The Selection #1) Page 58

Maxon smiled. “Well, I’m sure you all have a busy day ahead of you. We’ll just be off. Good day, officers.” Maxon gave a quick nod and pulled me away.

It took all the strength in my body not to look back.

In the dark of the theater, I tried to figure out what to do. Maxon had made it clear from the night I’d told him about Aspen that he hated anyone who would treat me with so little care. If I told Maxon that the man he’d just assigned to watch over me was that very person, would he punish him somehow? I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d invented an entire support system for the country based on my stories of being hungry.

So I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t tell him. Because as mad as I was, I loved Aspen. And I couldn’t bear him being hurt.

Then should I leave? The ambivalence pulled at my heart. I could escape Aspen, get away from his face—a face that would torture me every day when I saw it and knew it was no longer mine. But if I left, I’d have to leave Maxon, too. And Maxon was my closest friend, maybe even more. I couldn’t just go. Besides, how would I explain it without telling him Aspen was here?

And my family. Maybe the checks they got were smaller, but at least they were getting them. May had written saying that Dad was promising our best Christmas ever this year, but I was sure that came with the stipulation that another Christmas might never be as good. If I left, who could say how much money my past fame would bring for my family? We had to save up as much as we could now.

“You didn’t like that one, did you?” Maxon asked nearly two hours later.

“Huh?”

“The movie. You didn’t laugh or anything.”

“Oh.” I tried to remember one little piece of information, a single scene that I could say I’d enjoyed. Nothing registered. “I think I’m just a little out of it today. Sorry you wasted your afternoon.”

“Nonsense.” Maxon waved away my lackluster attitude. “I just enjoy your company. Though perhaps you should take a nap before dinner. You’re looking a little pale.”

I nodded. I was considering going to my room and never coming back out.

CHAPTER 21

IN THE END, I DECIDED against hiding in my room. Instead I chose the Women’s Room. Usually I darted in and out all day, visiting libraries, taking walks with Marlee, or even heading back upstairs to visit my maids. But now I was using the Women’s Room like a cave. No men, not even guards, were allowed inside without the queen’s express permission. It was perfect.

Well, it was perfect for three days. With this many girls, it was only a matter of time until someone had a birthday. Kriss’s was on Thursday. I guessed she’d mentioned it to Maxon—who seemed to never pass up an opportunity to give someone something—and the outcome was a mandatory party for all the Selected. As a result, Thursday was a mad rush of girls in and out of one another’s rooms, asking what they were wearing or guessing at how grand it would be.

It didn’t appear that gifts were required, but I figured I’d do something nice for her all the same.

On the day of the party, I donned one of my favorite day dresses and grabbed my violin. I crept down to the Great Room, looking around corners before I committed to walking on. Once I made it to the room, I did another sweep, surveying the guards who lined the walls. Mercifully, Aspen was nowhere to be seen, and I had to chuckle at the presence of so many men in uniform. Were they expecting a riot or something?

The Great Room was decorated beautifully. Special vases hung on the wall, displaying huge arrangements of yellow and white flowers, and similar bouquets sat in bowls around the room. Windows, stretches of wall, and pretty much anything that didn’t move was draped in garlands. A few small tables had been set out, and they were covered with bright linens. Little bits of glittering confetti sparkled on the table-tops. Ornate bows adorned the backs of chairs.

In one corner, a massive cake that matched the colors of the room waited to be cut. Next to it, a small table held a few gifts for the birthday girl.

A string quartet was set up against the wall, effectively making my attempt at a gift meaningless, and a photographer wandered the room, capturing moments for the public eye.

The mood in the room was playful. Tiny—who had so far only managed to get close to Marlee—was talking to Emmica and Jenna and looking more animated than I’d ever seen her. Marlee hovered near a window, looking like one of the many guards dotting the wall. She made no effort to leave her chosen spot but stopped anyone who passed by to chat. A group of Threes—Kayleigh, Elizabeth, and Emily—all turned and waved and smiled. I returned the gesture. Everyone seemed so friendly and happy today.

Except for Celeste and Bariel. Usually they were inseparable, but today they were on opposite ends of the room, with Bariel speaking to Samantha, and Celeste sitting alone at a table, clutching a crystal glass of deep red liquid. I’d obviously missed something between yesterday’s dinner and this afternoon.

I gripped my violin case again and walked toward the back of the room to see Marlee.

“Hi, Marlee. This is something, isn’t it?” I asked, setting down the violin.

“It sure is.” She hugged me. “I hear Maxon’s coming by later to wish Kriss a happy birthday in person. Isn’t that sweet? I’ll bet he has a present, too.”

Marlee went on in her typical enthusiastic way. I still wondered what her secret was, but I trusted her enough to bring up the subject if she really needed to talk about it. We spoke of little nothings for a few minutes until we heard a general clamor at the front end of the room.

Marlee and I both turned, and while she remained calm, I was completely deflated.

Kriss’s dress choice had been incredibly strategic. Here we all were in day dresses—short, girlish things—and she was in a floor-length gown. But the length meant little. It was that her dress was a creamy, almost white color. Her hair was done up with a row of yellow jewels pinned into a line across the front in a very subtle resemblance to a crown. She looked mature, regal, bridal.

Even though I wasn’t entirely sure where my heart was, I felt a pang of jealousy. None of us would ever get a similar moment. No matter how many parties or dinners came and went, it would be rather pathetic to try to copy Kriss’s look. I saw Celeste’s hand—the one that wasn’t clutching her drink—ball into a fist.

“She looks really pretty,” Marlee commented wistfully.

“Better than pretty,” I replied.