The Elite (Selection)

was inches from mine, his eyes searching my own, perhaps wondering how he’d be received, perhaps not caring at all. Though it was all wrong, I still wanted it. My lips parted before I realized what was happening.
    I shook my head to clear it and stepped back, moving toward the balcony. He didn’t put up a fight as I pulled away. I took a few steadying breaths before I turned to him.
    “Are you going to send me home?” I asked quietly.
    Maxon shook his head, either unable or unwilling to speak.
    I ripped his bracelet off my wrist and threw it across the room. “Then go,” I whispered.
    I turned back to look out my balcony and waited a few heavy moments to hear the click of the door. Once he left, I fell to the floor and sobbed.
    He and Celeste were so much alike. Everything about them was a show. And I knew that he would spend the rest of his life sweet-talking the public into thinking he was wonderful, all the while keeping them trapped where they were. Just like Gregory.
    I sat on my floor, legs crossed under my nightgown. As upset as I was with Maxon, I was even more upset with myself. I should have fought harder. I should have done more. I shouldn’t be sitting here so defeated.
    I wiped the tears away and assessed the situation. I was done with Maxon, but I was still here. I was done with the competition, but I still had a presentation due. Aspen might not think I was tough enough to be a princess—and he was right—but he did have faith in me. I knew that. And so did my father. And so did Nicoletta.
    I wasn’t here to win anymore. So how could I go out with a bang?

CHAPTER 27
    WHEN SILVIA ASKED WHAT I would need for my presentation, I told her a small desk for some books and an easel for a poster I was designing. She was particularly excited about my poster. I was the only girl here with any true experience making art.
    I spent hours writing my speech onto note cards so I wouldn’t miss anything, flagging sections in books to be my resources midpresentation, and rehearsing it in the mirror to get through the parts that particularly worried me. I tried not to think too hard about what I was doing; otherwise my whole body started trembling.
    I asked Anne to make me a dress that looked innocent, which made her eyebrows pucker.
    “You make it sound like we’ve been sending you out in lingerie,” she said mockingly.
    I chuckled. “That’s not what I mean at all. You know I love all the dresses you’ve made me. I just want to seem … angelic.”
    She smiled to herself. “I think we can come up with something.”
    They must have been working like crazy, because I didn’t see Anne, Mary, or Lucy the day of the Report until the hour before it started, when they came bustling in with the dress. It was white, gauzy, and light, adorned with one long stream of green and blue tulle running along the right side. The bottom fell in such a way that it looked like a cloud, and its empire waist added a level of virtue and grace to the gown. I felt lovely in that dress. It was by far my favorite of everything they’d designed for me, and I was glad it worked out that way. It would probably be the last dress of theirs I’d ever wear.
    It had been hard to keep my plan a secret, but I did. When the girls asked what I was doing, I simply said it was a surprise. I got a few skeptical looks for that, but I didn’t care. I asked my maids not to touch the things on my desk, not even to clean, and they obeyed, leaving my notes facedown.
    No one knew.
    The person I most wanted to tell was Aspen, but I refrained. Part of me feared he would talk me out of it, and I would cave. Another part feared he would be far too gung-ho.
    As my maids worked to make me look beautiful, I stared into the mirror and knew I was walking into this alone. And that was for the best. I didn’t want anyone—not my maids, not the other girls, and especially not Aspen—to get in trouble for my actions.
    All that was left to do was to put things in order.
    “Anne, Mary, would you please go get me some tea?”
    They looked at each other. “Both of us?” Mary clarified.
    “Yes, please.”
    They looked suspicious but curtsied and left all the same. Once they were gone, I turned to Lucy.
    “Sit with me,” I invited, pulling her down to the padded bench on which I was sitting. She complied, and I asked her simply, “Are you happy?”
    “Miss?”
    “You’ve seemed kind of sad lately. I was wondering if you were all right.”
    She dropped