I returned to the party, violin in hand, determined to avoid Maxon after our awkward encounter.
"Hey, America!" Marlee greeted me. "Where'd you go?"
"Uh, nowhere. Oh, look, is that cake?" I craned my neck past her, peering over.
"Where?" We walked over to a table - grand and gilded as anything else in the room - where the other girls and Maxon were clustered.
Maxon looked up when he saw us coming, and picked up his camera to snap a picture. "Smile!"
I was not enthused. Marlee, however, obliged cheerily.
Warily, I saw Celeste in a corner, clearly unhappy about all the attention Kriss was getting. I hoped she wouldn't do anything about it.
The quartet in the corner began playing, and the girls started singing. "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Kriss, happy birthday to you!"
Kriss cut the cake, and passed out slices. It was delicious, chocolate and vanilla and cream, rich and spongy. "This is the best cake I've ever had," I gushed to Marlee.
"I thought you knew how to have fun." She nudged me playfully, taking a bite of the cake.
"What do you mean? Of course I know how to have - "
"Oh my gosh!" I was interrupted by a loud shriek. "I am so sorry!"
It was Celeste; she had spilled red wine all over Kriss's white dress.
"It was an accident, I swear!" Celeste truly looked sorry; maybe she should've signed up for acting instead of modelling.
I watched as Krisss face crumpled, and Maxon rushed over to console her. Whatever plan Celeste had had to get attention had backfired.
Celeste was definitely not someone to mess with. She wanted to win, one way or another.
That just made me more determined to compete.
:::
Today saw my second month of staying at the palace. We'd had one birthday, two eliminations, and now there were twenty-seven girls left.
Today, a festive air hung around the place: it was nearly Halloween, and there had been rumours of people coming to visit. Gossip was spreading faster than the plague: were they more professional people? Talent scouts? Makeup artists? Other models? Famous Amberly's Secret models, seeing as the company had been named after Monarchy Modelling's most famous supermodel, Amberly, also Maxon's mother?
At two pm, we found out. We'd been gathered in the ballroom where Kriss had held her birthday party, Silvia talking loudly and assertively, but no one was paying attention.
We were all on edge: Celeste drumming her fingers on her leg, Kriss tapping her foot restlessly, Marlee looking at the clock every few seconds... tension was a string, binding all of us together and pulling us taut.
As Marlee glanced at the clock for the fifth time today, I saw a flash of red in the doorway. The colour almost reminded me of my hair, which in turn reminded me of May's hair... but I was probably seeing things, right?
Wrong.
Silvia kept speaking, but I finally tuned in. "Now, I want everybody on their best behaviour. Do remember your etiquette, even though I understand this is a rather... emotional time for you." She pronounced emotional as if it were a dirty word before talking into an earpiece. "The families may come in now."
And then it was complete, utter chaos. May rushed through the door, and threw herself into my arms. Mom and Dad were behind her, walking at a more serene pace.
"I can't believe I'm here, Ames!" She said to me, still not letting go. "It's so glamorous, and beautiful, and..." she finally pulled away, looking at my outfit: a dark purple dress with a round neck encrusted with jewels, and three-quarter sleeves. "Do you dress like this every day? I mean, they show it on TV and all, but there are a lot of girls here..."
"May, give America some breathing room," Dad scolded gently, before enveloping me in a hug. "It's so nice to see you, Kitten."
I smiled at the nickname he always used for me. "It's nice to see you, too, Dad."