Currently under construction. If you notice any spelling errors and such, don't worry! I'll get to them. Enjoy!
I couldn't focus. I sat there on the old bench trying to draw something. Anything.
I stared at the already opened envelope. I could here my mothers happy screams.
A new Selection has begun. The Prince has turned 19 and he was now eligible.
I sighed.
Why did I have to be born 17 years ago? Why couldn't my parents have had me earlier. Baby making couldn't been that hard.
Ever since King Maxon changed the Castes, everything was so chaotic. I'm surprised they even hosted a Selection.
There were no more 8's, 7's, or 6's. I'm still a 5. I was born a 5 and it feels like I always will be one.
King Maxon had to put the caste changing on hold for a while, ever since the Rebels have been hitting harder then ever.
I don't want to be Princess of Illea. I most definitely do not want to marry the stuck up rich Prince Jackson. Ha. Nothing Is going to make me budge.
My mother came running into our tiny living room. She already had a pen in her hand.
"I found a pen!" My mother squealed. She was practically beaming.
I stared at her. I knew my next answer make her mad.
"Mom . . . I'm not signing up." I said not exactly meeting her eyes.
My mother stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. Then stared to suddenly laugh.
"Brooke, you're hilarious! Now start filling out the forms." She said with a creepy smile.
Oh goodness, this is going to take a while.
"Mom, I don't want to enter. I don't want to marry someone I don't even know. I don't even want to be a princess for crying out loud!" I said with a flustered look on my face.
My mother sighed and took a seat on our worn out couch. "Brooke honey. I know it's a lot to ask but just think of what it could mean for us!" My mother said with her bright smile.
My poor mother who has worked so hard for my family. Her Carmela hair was in a loose bun and her hazel soothing eyes showed hope for a better future.
I sighed, "can I think about it for a while?" I asked not meeting her eye.
She smiled. "Of course."
I got up with my art and music in my arms. I started to head to my room but my mother called out, "your father will be home in a hour."
"Okay!" I called back.
I entered my some what tidy room and laid out my drawings and song lyrics.
I sat on my bed and fell back on the squeaky mattress. My long brunette hair flowing around me.
Was signing the forms to enter the selection really such a big deal? I mean there's a one in a gizillion chance I would actually make it. I probably won't even have a fraction of a chance. So why not? I'll fill out the forms, make my mother happy, and move on with my life.
But . . . Even if I did make it in. The check every week would be a blessing. Being a 5 and having a family of 7 money is always tight. Plus if I got the opportunity to just wear one of those ball gown . . .
I sighed. Why was I worrying so much about a future that won't even happen?
"Mom!" I called out, "you could bring the forms in."
I could here ecstatic laughs.
She came running in 5 seconds later.
I filled out my full name: Brooke Rose Everdeen Age:17 Caste:5 I was proud to put down that I spoke 4 languages English, Spanish, French, and Portuguese. I put down my talents, singing, drawing, and the instruments I played.
"Okay mom. I'm done, tomorrow we can turn it in." I said with slight wittiness.
I can't wait until they call the names on the Illéa report and my mother will finally understand that it just was never going to happen.