FIRST LOVE ♛ The Selection

3 ⭑ Suck It, Summer

AURORA

"If it's somebody we know, you owe me twenty bucks."

It was the worst bet I had ever made. Worse, I said it with confidence, a cocky grin spread over my warm, third-glass-of-wine face. Maybe I wouldn't have said it at all if everybody at Maude's viewing party--a handful of her closest friends, including me, Kiara, and Sophie for some reason--would talk and drink louder than they already were. Maybe I wouldn't have said it if I cared to listen to the prime minister on Maude's bright flat screen, going on about war or debt or military or whatever the second-most important leader of the country had to say. Maybe if the prime minister would get on with the reports and get to the real show of the night. The only reason I was making bets in the first place.

Any minute now, any second now, she would give up the podium, and Prince Thomas would stroll on stage, and thirty-five girls would have their lives changed forever. Maybe that was it. The excitement in the air, the idea that it could be you or somebody you knew. Maybe that just made people act dumb.

And in any other province, my bet might have had a shot, but Waverly had a still-climbing population of twenty-five million. That was probably why Kiara laughed at me. "If it's somebody we know, I'll give you fifty."

I shrugged, taking another sip of my wine. "Keep your wallet ready, sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes, returning to toying with a piece of gouda from the wrecked charcuterie board on Maude's ottoman, glancing only briefly at the TV. She didn't say it, but the Selection made her nervous, too. Kiara was a newer friend of mine--we only started being friends after Play It Sane's premiere party, where we got drunk together and I discovered she wasn't uptight, just nervous--but she came up with the idea to break up with Pierce after she heard my constant complaining during our tequila-filled scary-movie nights. We filled out our applications together on the floor of her new apartment three weeks ago, and did each other's makeup for our headshots when we went to turn them in at the town hall. Kiara had a crush on the prince like everybody else, so getting picked would be a dream come true. She just didn't drown her nerves in wine like I did.

I told myself to take it slow at the start of the night, just in case, but I was my mother's daughter, so I giggled at nothing when I turned to face the TV. "You're prob'ly right," I said, my words slightly slurring. "It's gonna be some cashier, or... like, a receptionist." I take another sip, careful not to spill on my new white skirt, like I had the last two white skirts. "That's news."

Kiara scoffed. "As if you know."

"My dad happens to own the news." It was a half-joke. Dad's company ran one of the most viewed news stations in the country. "The transformation is the whole schtick. You're not gonna see Sophie strutting in for a makeover she's already had. That's not good TV."

"Did you say my name?" Sophie asked from the adjacent couch, turning away from her conversation with Billie.

"Only saying you'd never get picked," I replied.

Sophie's eyes narrowed, probably hoping her name came up in a more interesting discussion. The Selection was only uninteresting to her because she thought she was too special to care, and because Dad led the way for all of her opinions. Not that I had any resentment, or anything. Sophie replied, "Like you would, either."

"That's a great point, Soph," Kiara said as she faced me, a gamble flashing in her grin. "What if it's you?"

"I'd win, obviously." I shrugged. "Or my dad would shoot me in the foot before I get on the plane. Either or."

Sophie giggled. "The latter will be first."

Kiara ignored her. "And what if it's me?"

I pretended to think it over. "I don't know, you'll have to bring back a vial of palace air. And sell it."