The Selection series 1-3. Кира Касс

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СКАЧАТЬ minute, and I could tell he was about to move on.

      “Maxon,” I whispered.

      He turned back, a little surprised to be addressed so casually.

      “About last night. Let me explain. When they came to prep us, to get us ready to come here, there was a man who told me that I was never to turn you down. No matter what you asked for. Not ever.”

      He was dumbfounded. “What?”

      “He made it sound like you might ask for certain things. And you said yourself that you hadn’t been around many women. After eighteen years … and then you sent the cameras away. I just got scared when you got that close to me.”

      Maxon shook his head, trying to process all this. Humiliation, rage, and disbelief all played across his typically even-tempered face.

      “Was everyone told this?” he asked, sounding appalled at the idea.

      “I don’t know. I can’t imagine many girls would need such a warning. They’re probably waiting to pounce on you,” I noted, nodding my head toward the rest of the room.

      He gave a dark chuckle. “But you’re not, so you had absolutely no qualms about kneeing me in the groin, right?”

      “I hit your thigh!”

      “Oh, please. A man doesn’t need that long to recover from a knee to the thigh,” he replied, his voice full of skepticism.

      A laugh escaped me. Thankfully, Maxon joined in. Just then another mass hit the windows, and we stopped in unison. For a moment I had forgotten where I was.

      “So how are you handling a roomful of crying women?” I asked.

      There was a comical bewilderment in his expression. “Nothing in the world is more confusing!” he whispered urgently. “I haven’t the faintest clue how to stop it.”

      This was the man who was going to lead our country: the guy rendered useless by tears. It was too funny.

      “Try patting them on the back or shoulder and telling them everything is going to be fine. Lots of times when girls cry, they don’t want you to fix the problem, they just want to be consoled,” I advised.

      “Really?”

      “Pretty much.”

      “It can’t possibly be that simple.” Intrigue and doubt played in his voice.

      “I said most of the time, not all the time. But it would probably work for a lot of the girls here.”

      He snorted. “I’m not so sure. Two have already asked if I’ll let them leave if this ever ends.”

      “I thought we weren’t allowed to do that.” I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. If he had agreed to let me stay on as a friend, he couldn’t be too concerned with technicalities. “What are you going to do?”

      “What else can I do? I won’t keep someone here against her will.”

      “Maybe they’ll change their minds,” I offered hopefully.

      “Maybe.” He paused. “What about you? Have you been scared off yet?” he asked almost playfully.

      “Honestly? I was convinced you were sending me home after breakfast anyway,” I admitted.

      “Honestly? I had considered that myself.”

      There was a quiet smile between us. Our friendship—if I could even call it that—was obviously awkward and flawed, but at least it was honest.

      “You didn’t answer me. Do you want to leave?”

      Another something hit the wall, and the idea sounded appealing. The worst attack I’d gotten at home was Gerad trying to steal my food. The girls here didn’t care for me, the clothes were stifling, people were trying to hurt me, and the whole thing felt uncomfortable. But it was good for my family and nice to be full. Maxon did seem a bit lost, and I’d get to stay away from him for a little bit longer. And who knew, maybe I could help pick out the next princess.

      I looked Maxon in the eye. “If you’re not kicking me out, I’m not leaving.”

      He smiled. “Good. You’ll need to tell me more tricks like this shoulder-patting thing.”

      I smiled back. Yes, it was all wrong, but some good would come out of this.

      “America, could you do me a favor?”

      I nodded.

      “As far as anyone knows, we spent a lot of time together yesterday evening. If anyone asks, could you please tell them that I’m not … that I wouldn’t …”

      “Of course. And I really am sorry about everything.”

      “I should have known that if any girl was going to disobey an order, it would be you.”

      A collection of heavy objects hit the wall at once, making a handful of girls scream.

      “Who are they? What do they want?” I asked.

      “Who? The rebels?”

      I nodded.

      “Depends on who you ask. And which group you’re talking about,” he answered.

      “You mean there’s more than one?” That made the entire experience much worse. If this was one group, what could two or more do together? As far as I knew, a rebel was a rebel was a rebel, but Maxon made it sound like some could be worse than others. “How many are there?”

      “Two generally, the Northerners and the Southerners. The Northerners attack much more frequently. They’re closer. They live in the rainy patch of Likely near Bellingham, just north of here. No one really wants to live there—it’s practically all ruins—so they’ve made it a home of sorts, though I guess they travel. The traveling is one theory of mine—one no one listens to. But they’re far less likely to break in, and when they do the results are … tame almost. I’d guess that this is a Northern job right now,” he said over the din.

      “Why? What makes them so different from the Southerners?”

      Maxon seemed to hesitate, unsure if this information was something I should know. He looked around to see if anyone could hear us. I looked around, too, and saw that several people were watching us. In particular, Celeste looked like she was trying to set me on fire with her eyes. I didn’t keep eye contact for long. Still, even with all the onlookers, no one was close enough to hear. When Maxon came to the same conclusion, he leaned in to whisper.

      “Their attacks are much more … lethal.”

      I shivered. “Lethal?”

      He nodded. “They only come about once or twice a year, as best I can tell from the aftermath. I think that everyone here is trying to protect me from the statistics, but I’m not stupid. People die when they come. The trouble is, both groups look alike to us—dingy, mostly men, lean but strong, no sort of emblem as СКАЧАТЬ