The Selection: Third Generation

Ch.4: Temporary Home

Arabella's POV:

As the lady, who I have learned is named Claire, Officer Aaron, and I walk through the airport, I see two girls talking by the four chairs with a "The Selected" sign near them. The seats are off to the side of the normal waiting areas and there are two other guards standing nearby, as well. One girl has hot pink hair and the other has a deep red hair color. They are both very stunning girls.

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth!" The pink-haired girl says excitedly. She extends her hand and I shake it, smiling.

"I'm Shakira." The other girl says, a polite smile on her face. She also shakes my hand, but her grip is much softer.

"I'm Arabella." I say, smiling back. We all sit down again. We must be waiting for more girls.

"So, Arabella," Shakira says as if testing out my name. "Do you think we will have some bitches in this contest to deal with?" We all laugh a little before I answer, but I am a little thrown off by her language choice. I try not to curse, and it usually is only when I am very mad.

"Yeah, I imagine so." I say just as another girl walks up. We all stand to greet her.

"Hi, I'm Amie." The cute brunette says shyly.

"I'm Shakira, this is Elizabeth, and this is Arabella." She introduces us, flipping her red hair behind her shoulders. 

"Nice to meet you," Amie says.

The same lady that walked me in, Claire, tells us it's time to go and leads us toward the terminal.
When we walk through the doors, girls and boys around our ages, as well as some children, surround us, and Officer Aaron, as well as three other guards, jump into action. They hold them back to allow us enough room to walk. Some girls have posters with our names on them. I see mostly signs with the other girls' names, but one girl is holding up a very intricately designed sign with my name. It is light pink with flowers all over it and even says, "Siate liberi. Sii te stessa." This is Italian and means "Be free. Be you."  As we pass I smile at her, giving her a thumbs up on her sign. My application must have been posted to the public for her to know I speak Italian. My family on my Dad's side is from Italy and he insisted it should be my second language.

We all board the private jet, quickly claiming our own seats. I sit in the aisle seat of my row, afraid I'll get sick if I sit by the window. Elizabeth sits directly across from me in an aisle seat, as well.

***

"I'm so nervous about meeting the prince tomorrow," Elizabeth confesses.

"Me, too." Amie agrees.

"Guys, let's just enjoy the makeovers today. We can worry about the prince later." Shakira says. We all nod in agreement, knowing all too well that the rest of our time here will be spent stressing over the prince. I sigh in content, still slightly in shock that I am here. The flight was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and we chatted for most of it.

I look out of the window and notice that the limo is pulling into the palace driveway.

"Wow! It's beautiful," I say, admiring the tall wall around the palace, the towers that seem to touch the clouds, and the long driveway. Soon enough the entire palace comes into view and my breath is taken away.

"Gorgeous." Elizabeth admires. 

The car comes to a stop in front of the huge doors, and we all get out.
Palace maids rush us into the palace lobby, where a very sophisticated-looking woman is waiting in the middle of two gorgeous staircases.