The Elite (Selection)

I love forced into the stations we are assigned at birth with little hope for change, despite seeing the gaps between myself and others because of this number even though we aren’t very different”—I looked over to the girls—“I find myself in love with our country.”
    I switched the card automatically, knowing the break. “What I propose wouldn’t be simple. It might even be painful, but I genuinely believe it would benefit our entire kingdom.” I inhaled. “I think we should eliminate the castes.”
    I heard more than one gasp. I chose to ignore them.
    “I know there was a time, when our country was new, when the assignment of these numbers helped organize something that was on the brink of not existing. But we are no longer that country. We are so much more now. To allow the talentless to have exalted privileges and suppress what could be the greatest minds in the world for the sake of an archaic organization system is cruel, and it only stops us from becoming the best we can be.”
    I noted a poll from one of Celeste’s discarded magazines after we talked about having a volunteer army, and sixty-five percent of the people thought it was a good idea. Why eliminate that career path completely for people? I also cited an old report we had studied about the standardized testing in the public schools. The article was slanted, stating that only three percent of Sixes and Sevens tested to elevated levels of intelligence; and since it was so low, it was clear they were intended to stay where they were. My argument was that we ought to be ashamed that those people are stuck digging ditches when they could be performing heart surgeries.
    Finally the daunting task was nearly over. “Perhaps our country is flawed, but we cannot deny its strength. My fear is that, without change, that strength will become stagnate. And I love our country too much to let that happen. I hope too much to let that happen.”
    I swallowed, grateful that at least it was over now. “Thank you for your time,” I said, and turned slightly toward the royal family.
    It was bad. Maxon’s face was stony again, like the way he’d looked when Marlee was caned. The queen averted her eyes, looking disappointed. The king, however, stared me down.
    Without so much as a blink, he focused in on me. “And how do you suggest we eliminate the castes?” he challenged. “Just suddenly take them all away?”
    “Oh … I don’t know.”
    “And you don’t think that would cause riots? Complete mayhem? Allow for rebels to take advantage of public confusion?”
    I hadn’t thought this part through. All I could process was how unfair it all was.
    “I think the creation caused a decent amount of confusion, and we managed that. In fact”—I reached to my pile of books—“I have a description here.”
    I started looking for the right page in Gregory’s diary.
    “Are we off?” he bellowed.
    “Yes, Majesty,” someone called.
    I looked up and saw that all the lights that usually indicated that the cameras were on had gone dim. In some gesture I’d missed, the king had shut down the Report .
    The king stood. “Point them to the ground.” Each camera was aimed to the floor.
    He stormed over to me and ripped the diary from my hands.
    “Where did you get this?” he yelled.
    “Father, stop!” Maxon jogged up nervously.
    “Where did she get this? Answer me!”
    Maxon confessed. “From me. We were looking up what Halloween was. He wrote about it in the diaries, and I thought she’d like to read more.”
    “You idiot,” the king spat. “I knew I should have made you read these sooner. You’re completely lost. You have no clue of the duty you have!”
    Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.
    “She leaves tonight,” King Clarkson ordered. “I’ve had enough of her.”
    I tried to shrink down, distance myself from the king as much as I could without being obvious. I tried not to even breathe too loudly. I turned my head toward the girls, for some reason focusing on Celeste. I’d expected her to be smiling, but she was nervous. The king had never been like this.
    “You can’t send her home. That’s my choice, and I say she stays,” Maxon responded calmly.
    “Maxon Calix Schreave, I am the king of Illéa, and I say—”
    “Could you stop being the king for five minutes and just be my father?” Maxon yelled. “This is my choice. You got to make yours, and I want to make mine. No one else is leaving without my say so!”
    I saw Natalie lean in