The Selection series 1-3. Кира Касс

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СКАЧАТЬ it wasn’t good enough. A butler knocked on my door that evening with an envelope from my family and an update.

      “She didn’t cry, miss. She said they were so good she could have—as you suggested—but she did not actually cry. His Majesty will come and get you from your room around five tomorrow. Please be ready.”

      I wasn’t so upset about losing, but I seriously would have enjoyed the pants. At least, if I couldn’t have that, I had letters. I realized that this was the first time I’d been parted from my family for more than a few hours. We weren’t wealthy enough to go on trips, and since I didn’t really have friends growing up, I’d never even spent the night away. If only there was a way I could get letters every day. I supposed it could be done, but it would have to be so expensive.

      I read Dad’s first. He went on and on about how beautiful I looked on TV and how proud he was of me. He said I shouldn’t have sent three boxes of tarts, because May was going to get spoiled. Three boxes! For goodness’ sake.

      He went on to say that Aspen had been at the house helping with paperwork, so he’d taken a box home to his family. I didn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, I was glad they would have something so decadent to eat. On the other, I just imagined him sharing some with his new girlfriend. Someone he could spoil. I wondered if he was jealous of Maxon’s gift, or if he was glad to be rid of my attention.

      I lingered on those lines much longer than I meant to.

      Dad closed by saying he was pleased I’d made a friend. Said I always was slow in that department. I folded the letter up and ran my finger over his signature on the outside. I’d never noticed how funny he signed his name before.

      Gerad’s letter was short and to the point. He missed me, he loved me, and please send more food. I laughed out loud at that.

      Mom was bossy. Even in print I could hear her tone, smugly congratulating me on already earning the prince’s affections—she had been informed that I was the only one to get gifts to send home—and telling me firmly to keep up whatever I was doing.

      Yeah, Mom, I’ll just keep telling the prince that he has absolutely no shot with me and offend him as often as I can. Great plan.

      I was glad I’d saved May’s for last.

      Her letter was absolutely giddy. She admitted how jealous she was that I was eating like that all the time. She also complained that Mom was bossing her around more. I knew how that felt. The rest was a barrage of questions. Was Maxon as cute in person as he was on TV? What was I wearing now? Could she come and visit the palace? Did Maxon have a secret brother who would be willing to marry her one day?

      I giggled and embraced my collection of letters. I’d have to make the effort to write back soon. There had to be a telephone around here somewhere, but so far no one had made us aware of it. Even if I had one in my room, it would probably be overkill to call home daily. Besides, these letters would be fun to hold on to. Proof I’d really been here when this whole place would be a memory.

      I went to bed with the comforting knowledge that my family was doing well, and that warmth lulled me into a sound sleep that was only hitched by a twinge of nerves at being alone with Maxon again. I couldn’t quite pin down the reason, but I hoped it was all for nothing.

      “For the sake of appearances, would you please take my arm?” Maxon asked as he escorted me from my room the next day. I was a little hesitant, but I did.

      My maids had already put me in my evening dress: a little blue thing with an empire waist and capped sleeves. My arms were bare, and I could feel the starched fabric of Maxon’s suit against my skin. Something about it all made me uncomfortable. He must have noticed, because he tried to distract me.

      “I’m sorry she didn’t cry,” he said.

      “No you’re not.” My joking tone made it clear I wasn’t too upset about losing.

      “I’ve never gambled before. It was nice to win.” His tone was slightly apologetic.

      “Beginner’s luck.”

      He smiled. “Perhaps. Next time we’ll try to make her laugh.”

      I instantly started running scenarios through my mind. What from the palace would make May just die with laughter?

      Maxon could tell I was thinking about her. “What’s your family like?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Just that. Your family must be very different from mine.”

      “I’d say so.” I laughed. “For one, no one wears their tiaras to breakfast.”

      Maxon smiled. “More of a dinner thing at the Singer house?”

      “Of course.”

      He chuckled quietly. I was starting to think maybe Maxon wasn’t nearly the snob I’d suspected he was.

      “Well, I’m the middle child of five.”

      “Five!”

      “Yeah, five. Most families out there have lots of kids. I’d have lots if I could.”

      “Oh, really?” Maxon’s eyebrows were raised.

      “Yes,” I answered. My voice was low. I couldn’t quite say why, but that seemed like a very intimate detail about my life. Only one other person had really known about it.

      I felt a spasm of sadness but shoved it away.

      “Anyway, my oldest sister, Kenna, is married to a Four. She works in a factory now. My mom wants me to marry at least a Four, but I don’t want to have to stop singing. I love it too much. But I guess I’m a Three now. That’s really weird. I think I’m going to try to stay in music if I can.

      “Kota is next. He’s an artist. We don’t see much of him these days. He did come to see me off, but that’s about it.

      “Then there’s me.”

      Maxon smiled effortlessly. “America Singer,” he announced, “my closest friend.”

      “That’s right.” I rolled my eyes. There was no way I could actually be his closest friend. At least not yet. But I had to admit, he was the only person I’d ever really confided in who wasn’t family or someone I was in love with. Well, Marlee, too. Could it be the same way for him?

      Slowly we moved down the hallway and toward the stairs. He didn’t appear to be in any sort of rush.

      “After me there’s May. She’s the one who sold me out and didn’t cry. Honestly, I was robbed; I can’t believe she didn’t cry! But yeah, she’s an artist. I … I adore her.”

      Maxon examined my face. Talking about May softened me a bit. I liked Maxon well enough, but I didn’t know how far I wanted to let him in.

      “And then Gerad. He’s the baby; he’s seven. He hasn’t quite figured out if he’s into music or art yet. Mostly he likes to play ball and study bugs, which is fine except that he can’t make a living that way. We’re trying to get him to experiment more. Anyway, СКАЧАТЬ