#pc 2

My eyes snapped open, all drowsiness gone. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I-I entered on a dare-

“Olivia! De que se trata? What’s all this about?” My mother demanded.

“Mami,” I sputtered, “I entered the Selection on a dare, I didn’t expect…”

“No of course not, you never stop to think, do you mija?” She sighed dramatically, “All we’ve worked for! Down the drain. Unless…” She paused, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

“Unless what?” I prompted. I had seen that look in my mother’s eyes before and I knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“You’re going to go to that palace, and you’ll make it to the Elite and then you’ll get eliminated.” Mami declared. “All of the publicity with none of the commitment,” She said, mostly to herself.

“Did you ever stop to think what I want?” I asked her. Staying in a palace with 34 other girls and a horny prince wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time.

“Ah no. You don’t get to want anything. You forfeited that right when you applied to the Selection.” She snapped, “Now go. I don’t want to look at you right now.”

Love you too.

“Best Behavior, mija, I’m watching you,” Mami hissed at me as I walked up the stage.

All I had to do was walk across the stage. Really loving the trust, Mom.

I reached center stage, where the mayor was giving pretty speech about the Selection and the important role I was playing, but it was mostly white noise. Scanning the hopeful faces of the crowd, I tried fruitlessly to ground myself to someone, anyone. But this wasn’t home. It never had been. I wondered if I would actually belong at the palace, or if it would just be another residence.

I kept the doubt off my face, opting for a for a reassuring smile instead. If it’s a princess they want, I thought to myself, it’s a princess they’ll get.

The humid Zunni air was replaced by the cool relief of AC once I was ushered inside the sleek black car. Looking down at my fancy, yet impractical outfit, I wondered how long I would last in the itchy material. Apparently when Mami had ordered my “Selection-worthy” pants and shirt, she hadn’t stopped to think about my comfort. But then again, when had she ever?

Although I’d been living in Zunni for two years, it wasn’t where I was raised. No, I belonged on my aunt’s farm in Honduragua, and I was raised as a Four along with my cousins. That was home, not our lonely mansion, these uncomfortable clothes, or a stuffy palace.

I’d been raised in Zunni to give me a taste of the province my parents had grown up in. Or so they said. In reality, they hadn’t wanted a kid around to mess up their careers. So off to Honduragua I went. Not that I’m complaining, I enjoyed my time on the farm, it beat living with my parents.

But now I was here, in a car taking me to the airport to fly to Angeles to compete for a Prince I’d never even met.

Just breathe, I told myself, the last thing you need is a panic attack right now.

So I sat quietly, legs crossed, until we reached the airport. I smoothed out my pants, accepting the outstretched hand of the driver to help me out of the car. I was just going to have to play along.

Inside the plane, the other girls were waiting, scattered across the seats. I smiled at Melody Nolan, who recognized me and waved in return. I thought of the letter I sent her the day after we got selected.

Dear Melody, Apparently we’re supposed to be on the same plane. I don’t know if you remember p, but I actually met you a while back for a movie I think it was? Anyways, I look forward to getting to know you! -Olivia Palacio

I hadn’t known what to write, but I’d felt it was necessary to reach out to at least one of the Selected. Luckily she’d gotten the letter in time and responded:

Oh, yeah, The Journal! That was back in the earlier days of my career. That was a good role for me…

I had been grateful she’d remembered me and I was even more grateful that she recognized me on the plane. I had met Melody so long ago that I’d forgotten the name of the movie we worked on! We had both been young, and it was one of the roles my mother had forced me to try out for when I would visit her. It was nice to see a familiar face.

After the plane took off, I attempted to initiate conversation. “So um…” I began, but looking around the plane, I saw that everyone was occupied. Whether they were sleeping, listening to music, or gazing out the window, none of the girls seemed very interested in talking. Good, I thought, I’m not in the mood for small talk either.

I decided a beauty nap would be wise, and I promptly drifted off into sleep.

“We’re chopping off your hair,” A woman with a nasally voice informed me, “Just an FYI.”

“No no,” I protested, “Leave my hair alone!” Although my hair wasn’t too long, it wasn’t short either! And goodness knows I wasn’t going to let some bossy stylist cut it off just for the sake of it.

“Oh come on,” the woman continued, “Cutting your hair symbolic! Represents… new beginnings,” she offered.

“You’re not touching my hair,” I was adamant.

She rolled her eyes, “Fine. Can I at least paint your nails? Or are those off limits too?” she said sarcastically.

“You know I’m really not having your attitude right now, but sure, knock yourself out. It must be so difficult when people don’t let you displace their whole appearance.” I did my best to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“You,” said she, pointing the nail polish at me, “Are one toxic young lady.”

I shrugged. I guess I just wasn’t having it today.