The Selection (Selection - Trilogy)

They already looked at us funny anyway. But it was a nice day out, and the trip was just shy of being too long.
    We obviously weren’t the only ones trying to get our submission in right away. By the time we got there, the street in front of the Province of Carolina Services Office was packed with women.
    Standing in line, I could see a number of girls from my neighborhood in front of me, waiting to go inside. The trail was nearly four people wide and wrapped halfway around the block. Every girl in the province was signing up. I didn’t know whether to feel terrified or relieved.
    “Magda!” someone called. My mother and I both turned at the sound of her name.
    Celia and Kamber were walking up behind us with Aspen’s mother. She must have taken the day off to do this. Her daughters were dressed up as neatly as they could afford, looking very tidy. It wasn’t much, but they looked good no matter what they wore, just like Aspen. Kamber and Celia had his same dark hair and beautiful smiles.
    Aspen’s mother smiled at me, and I returned her grin. I adored her. I only got to talk to her every once in a while, but she was always nice to me. And I knew it wasn’t because I was a step up from her; I’d seen her give clothes that didn’t fit her kids anymore to families who had next to nothing. She was just kind.
    “Hello, Lena. Kamber, Celia, how are you?” Mother greeted them.
    “Good!” they sang in unison.
    “You guys look beautiful,” I said, placing one of Celia’s curls behind her shoulder.
    “We wanted to look pretty for our picture,” Kamber announced.
    “Picture?” I asked.
    “Yes.” Aspen’s mom spoke in a hushed voice. “I was cleaning at one of the magistrates’ houses yesterday. This lottery isn’t much of a lottery at all. That’s why they’re taking pictures and getting lots of information. Why would it matter how many languages you spoke if it were random?”
    That had struck me as funny, but I thought that was all information for after the fact.
    “It appears to have leaked a little; look around. Lots of girls are way overdone.”
    I scanned the line. Aspen’s mother was right, and there was a clear line between those who knew and those who didn’t. Just behind us was a girl, obviously a Seven, still in her work clothes. Her muddy boots might not make the picture, but the dust on her overalls probably would. A few yards back another Seven was sporting a tool belt. The best I could say about her was that her face was clean.
    On the other end of the spectrum, a girl in front of me had her hair up in a twist with little tendrils framing her face. The girl beside her, clearly a Two based on her clothes, looked like she was trying to drown the world in her cleavage. Several had on so much makeup, they looked kind of like clowns to me. But at least they were trying.
    I looked decent, but I hadn’t gone to any such lengths. Like the Sevens, I hadn’t known to bother. I felt a sudden flutter of worry.
    But why? I stopped myself and rearranged my thoughts.
    I didn’t want this. If I wasn’t pretty enough, surely that was a good thing. I would at least be a notch below Aspen’s sisters. They were naturally beautiful, and looked even lovelier with the little hints of makeup. If Kamber or Celia won, Aspen’s whole family would be elevated. Surely my mother couldn’t disapprove of me marrying a One just because he wasn’t the prince himself. My lack of information was a blessing.
    “I think you’re right,” Mom said. “That girl looks like she’s getting ready for a Christmas party.” She laughed, but I could tell she hated that I was at a disadvantage.
    “I don’t know why some girls go so over the top. Look at America. She’s so pretty. I’m so glad you didn’t go that route,” Mrs. Leger said.
    “I’m nothing special. Who could pick me next to Kamber or Celia?” I winked at them, and they smiled. Mom did, too, but it was forced. She must have been debating staying in the line or forcing me to run home and change.
    “Don’t be silly! Every time Aspen comes home from helping your brother, he always says the Singers inherited more than their fair share of talent and beauty,” Aspen’s mother said.
    “Does he really? What a nice boy!” my mother cooed.
    “Yes. A mother couldn’t ask for a better son. He’s supportive, and he works so hard.”
    “He’s going to make some girl very happy one day,” my mother said. She was only half into the conversation as