The Selection (Selection - Trilogy)

but I trusted her enough to bring up the subject if she really needed to talk about it. We spoke of little nothings for a few minutes until we heard a general clamor at the front end of the room.
    Marlee and I both turned, and while she remained calm, I was completely deflated.
    Kriss’s dress choice had been incredibly strategic. Here we all were in day dresses—short, girlish things—and she was in a floor-length gown. But the length meant little. It was that her dress was a creamy, almost white color. Her hair was done up with a row of yellow jewels pinned into a line across the front in a very subtle resemblance to a crown. She looked mature, regal, bridal.
    Even though I wasn’t entirely sure where my heart was, I felt a pang of jealousy. None of us would ever get a similar moment. No matter how many parties or dinners came and went, it would be rather pathetic to try to copy Kriss’s look. I saw Celeste’s hand—the one that wasn’t clutching her drink—ball into a fist.
    “She looks really pretty,” Marlee commented wistfully.
    “Better than pretty,” I replied.
    The party continued on, and Marlee and I mostly crowd-watched. Surprisingly—and suspiciously—Celeste clung to Kriss, talking up a storm as Kriss circled the room, thanking everyone for coming, even though we really had no choice.
    Eventually she made it to the back corner where Marlee and I were standing, soaking up the warm sun from the windows. Marlee, true to form, threw her arms around Kriss.
    “Happy birthday!” she squealed.
    “Thank you!” Kriss replied, returning Marlee’s affection and enthusiasm.
    “So you’re nineteen today, right?” Marlee asked.
    “Yes. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate. I’m so glad they’re taking pictures. My mother will love this! Even though we do pretty well, we’ve never had money to have something like this. It’s so beautiful!” she gushed.
    Kriss was a Three. There weren’t nearly as many limits to her life as mine, but I’d imagine anything close to this scale would be hard to justify.
    “It is impressive,” Celeste commented. “For my birthday last year, I had a black and white party. Any trace of color, and you weren’t even allowed in the door.”
    “Wow,” Marlee whispered, obvious envy in the tiny word.
    “It was fantastic. Gourmet food, dramatic lighting, and the music! Well, we flew in Tessa Tamble. You’ve heard of her?”
    It was impossible not to know Tessa Tamble. She had at least a dozen hit songs. Sometimes we saw videos of hers on TV, though that was frowned on by Mom. She thought we were infinitely more talented than anyone like Tessa, and it irked her to no end that she had fame and money when we didn’t for doing essentially the same thing.
    “She’s my favorite!” Kriss exclaimed.
    “Well, Tessa’s a dear friend of the family, so she came in and did a concert for my party. I mean, we couldn’t have a bunch of dreary Fives sucking all the life out of the room.”
    Marlee gave me a quick sideways glance. I could tell she was feeling embarrassed for me.
    “Oops,” Celeste added, looking at me. “I forgot. I meant no offense.”
    The sticky sweetness of her voice was infuriating. Once again I was tempted to hit her.... Better not to push it.
    “None taken,” I replied, as composed as I possibly could. “Exactly what do you do as a Two, Celeste? I mean, I’ve never heard your music on the radio.”
    “I model,” she answered in a tone that implied I should have known that. “Haven’t you seen my ads?”
    “Can’t say I have.”
    “Oh, well, you are a Five. I guess you can’t afford the magazines anyway.”
    It hurt because it was true. May loved to sneak peeks at magazines when we managed to go by a store, but there was absolutely no reason for us to buy them.
    Kriss, taking on the role of host again, switched directions.
    “You know, America, I’ve been meaning to ask what your focus was as a Five.”
    “Music.”
    “You should play for us sometime!”
    I sighed. “Actually, I brought my violin to play for you today. I thought it would make a nice gift, but you’ve already got a quartet, so I figured—”
    “Oh, play for us!” Marlee begged.
    “Please, America, it’s my birthday!” Kriss echoed.
    “But they’ve already given you a—” It didn’t matter how I protested. Kriss and Marlee had already shushed the quartet and made everyone come to the back of the room. Some girls fanned their dresses out and