The Next Selection

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

     I fill in the final box of the form and I'm so glad that it's over. I slide the form to the center of the kitchen table, placing the cap back on the pen I used. The sound of the front door opening is enough to get my attention. I run into the living room to see my dad placing his coat on the coat rack. He gives me a hug and kisses the top of my head. "I've missed you so much, honey," he says warmly.

My dad has always been an aspiring doctor and he was sent to Columbus for a trial run. He was gone for six months and just got home.

"I've missed you so much, Dad," I say. He gives me a big smile and walks to the kitchen. My mother has her back faced to us, so she's facing the stove. My father places a finger to his lips and I try to conceal a laugh.

"What smells so good?" he asks as casually as possible. Mom spins around and her face brightens as she hugs dad.

"I thought you weren't coming back for two months!" she squeals.

"They had no more work for me to do. So, I came home early." They hug once more and then mom remembers the form on the table.

"Look at what Mallory got in the mail today, James!" She picks the form up and hands it to him. His eyes go big as he can see I've already filled it out.

"The Selection! But what about King Maxon dissolving everything?" Mom rolls her eyes at dad's clueless expression.

"He decided to have one, just no cameras. No big deal," she simply explains.

"Interesting. Well, I just know that you're going to win for sure."

"Doubtful," I say taking the form from him. I walk back to my room and shut the door behind me, throwing myself onto my bed. I stare at my ceiling, wishing that I could just disappear. I'm about to fall asleep, when a knock at my door startles me. "Come in," I shout at the door, waiting for someone to walk in. When Jolee does, I sit up on my bed.

"Hey," she says hopping onto the bed. "Why do you seem so upset?" she asks.

"I'm not upset, Jolee. I'm just...anxious." She quietly nods once I finish talking.

"Well, you're going to win," she says in barely a whisper. I groan and fall onto my pillow.

"I don't even know if I want to be a princess, Jolee!" I say with my muffled voice.

"How could you not want to be a princess! Does that not sound amazing to you? Because it does to me!" I sit back up and sigh.

"Jolee, of course you want to be a princess. You're only seven. You'll understand when you're older." She crosses her arms over her chest and puts a pout on her face.

"I hate being treated like a kid." She stomps out of my room, leaving small mud prints on my floor from being outside.

I get up to put on my pajamas, and when I'm done, I climb under the covers of my small bed. In an attempt to fall asleep, I look out the window in my room and begin to count all of the stars I can. But that doesn't work because I keep looking over at the form lying on my bedside table. Eventually, I give up, and lay in bed until exhaustion overcomes me.

     I awake to the sun shining into my room, and for once, everything feels fine. Until my mother runs into my room looking for the form. "We don't want to be late! I want to turn it in as soon as possible!" I rub my eyes and yawn.

"Mom, please don't make me go in my pajamas. Give me five minutes," I plead checking my breath.

"Fine. But no longer," she says harshly leaving my room. I walk over to my closet and dig inside for my nicest clothes.

I put on a light blue cardigan that had extra fabric draping down the front of it. It compliments nicely with a pair of white jeans, making me feel angelic. I finish it off by wearing a pair of short, black boots and a bracelet with blue beads strung around it. For my hair, I decided to curl it, although it was naturally wavy. Mom wasn't too happy about the hour I spent curling it, but she was pleased with the result. We finally left the house around ten in the morning and when we pulled up to the post office, I was stunned. Rows and rows of girls lined the small building, causing a lump to form in my throat. Clearly, my mom sees my change of attitude, and grabs my hand.

"It'll be fine. None of these girls compare to you." She gives me a faint smile and opens the car door, coming to my side to open mine. I put a smile on my face as we approach the end of the line, but my nerves take over.

Thousands of gorgeous girls, way prettier than me, are in all directions. Some have natural beauty and others look like they got in a fight with a box of crayons. One girl got so emotional the she broke down crying, causing her makeup to smear all over her face. Hours after hours, one by one, the girls entered to get their pictures taken to go with their forms. I could feel my palms sweating so I tried to shake the nerves.

I eventually got so close that I could see the flash of the camera and hear the click it released when it captured an image. I saw a woman with black hair and skin so pale she looked dead walk towards me with a clipboard in her hands. "Mallory Britain, you're up. I need your form." She held out one hand, not even looking up from what she was writing, and took the form from me. I walked into the room with my head held high, and saw the photographer reviewing previous pictures.

"Take a seat and smile," he said, obviously not paying attention. I guess they were really busy.

I sat on a small black stool where there was a white background behind me. I took time to fix my hair and fluff out my shirt, trying to look decent. The photographer set down the pictures he had been looking at and began to take pictures of me. "Smile more. Too stiff. Loosen up," he says. I try to listen but every time I do, he says a new comment. Eventually, I'm done listening. I put a big smile on my face and slump my shoulders a bit, embracing my father's lack of posture. "Excellent!" he says. I start laughing at his remarks like: fabulous, perfect, or my personal favorite, work it, girl! After minutes of bright flashes and crazy poses, my side hurts from all the laughing. I walk to my mom, and on the way out, I hear the photographer. "She did remarkable." I smile at the comment that wasn't supposed to be heard, and skip all the way to the car.

     When we get home, I walk into the house like the happiest person alive. Jackson sits on the couch, kicking a soccer ball, and looks at me like I'm insane. He rolls his eyes. "Jolee, she's home!" Jackson yells through the house. Immediately after, Jolee runs in out of breath.

"How'd it go?" she asks. Jackson stands up and walks over to us.

"She told me that I couldn't go outside until you got home to tell her," he says annoyed.

"Thank you for staying inside, Jackson," Jolee quickly comments. He walks out the front door to kick his soccer ball.

"It went fine," I say. She gives me an exasperated look.

"That's all I get!" she shouts.

"Fine. There were thousands of girls there who looked like they had had plastic surgery. I walked in and I was stiff at first. I finally loosened up, and apparently, the photographer really liked me," I say. "Are you happy now?" She looks at me with no expression, then an explosion of happiness erupts. She hugs me, dancing the entire time.

"I knew you were meant to be a princess!" She runs into our small work studio in the back, and I can hear her tell dad the news. Mom turns to look at me, and we both start laughing. I really hope that Jolee never changes. Or else this house would be way too boring.