The Selection (Selection - Trilogy)

the third time.
    “She and Maxon had gone hunting, but you knew that,” she said, waving her hand around like she was trying to clear her thoughts. Janelle’s date really had been common knowledge. After the photo shoot yesterday, she gushed about their plans to anyone who would listen.
    “That was her second date with Maxon. She’s the only one who got two,” Bariel said.
    “No, she isn’t,” I mumbled. A few heads turned, acknowledging my statement. It was true, though. Janelle was the only girl to have two dates with Maxon besides me. Not that I was counting.
    Kriss continued. “When she came back, she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she was leaving, that Maxon had told her to go. I gave her a hug because she was so upset and asked her what happened. She said she couldn’t tell me about it. I don’t understand that. Maybe we’re not allowed to talk about why we’re eliminated?”
    “That wasn’t in the rules, was it?” Tuesday asked.
    “No one said anything to me about it,” Amy replied, and several others shook their heads in confirmation.
    “But what did she say then?” Celeste urged.
    Kriss sighed again. “She said that I’d better be careful of what I say. Then she pulled away and slammed the door.”
    The room went quiet a moment, considering. “She must have insulted him,” Elayna said.
    “Well, if that’s why she left, then it isn’t fair, since Maxon said that someone in this room insulted him the first time they met,” Celeste complained.
    People started looking around the room, trying to discover the guilty party, perhaps in an effort to get them—me—kicked out as well. I gave a nervous glance to Marlee, and she sprang into action.
    “Maybe she said something about the country? Like the policies or something?”
    Bariel sucked her teeth. “Please. How boring must that date have been for them to start talking policy? Has anyone in here actually talked to Maxon about anything related to running the country?”
    No one answered.
    “Of course you haven’t,” Bariel said. “Maxon’s not looking for a coworker, he’s looking for a wife.”
    “Don’t you think you’re underestimating him?” Kriss objected. “Don’t you think Maxon wants someone with ideas and opinions?”
    Celeste threw her head back and laughed. “Maxon can run the country just fine. He’s trained for it. Besides, he has teams of people to help him make decisions, so why would he want someone else trying to tell him what to do? If I were you, I’d start learning how to be quiet. At least until he marries you.”
    Bariel sidled up beside Celeste. “Which he won’t.”
    “Exactly,” Celeste said with a smile. “Why would Maxon bother with some brainiac Three when he could have a Two?”
    “Hey!” Tuesday cried. “Maxon doesn’t care about numbers.”
    “Of course he does,” Celeste replied in a tone someone would use with a child. “Why do you think everyone below a Four is gone?”
    “Still here,” I said, raising my hand. “So if you think you’ve got him figured out, you’re wrong.”
    “Oh, it’s the girl who doesn’t know when to shut up,” Celeste said in mock amusement.
    I balled my fist, trying to decide if it would be worth hitting her. Was that part of her plan? But before I could move at all, Silvia burst through the door.
    “Mail, ladies!” she called out, and the tension in the room flew away.
    We all stopped, eager to get our hands on what Silvia was carrying. We’d been at the palace nearly two weeks now, and with the exception of hearing from our families on the second day, this was our first real contact from home.
    “Let’s see,” Silvia said, looking through stacks of letters, completely oblivious to the almost-argument that had taken place not seconds ago. “Lady Tiny?” she called as she looked around the room.
    Tiny raised her hand and walked forward. “Lady Elizabeth? Lady America?”
    I practically ran forward and snatched the letter out of her hand. I was so hungry for words from my family. As soon as it was in my clutches, I retreated to a corner for a few moments to myself.
     
    Dear America ,
I can’t wait for Friday to come. I can’t believe you’re going to get to talk to Gavril Fadaye! You have all the luck .
     
    I certainly didn’t feel lucky. Tomorrow night we were all getting grilled by Gavril, and I had no idea what he would ask us. I felt sure I’d make an idiot out of myself.
     
    It’ll be nice to hear