The Elite

I knew she meant well, but I really didn’t want to discuss her son. I nodded and rose. She smiled at me kindly and gestured that I was free to go. I wandered over to sit with Elise and Kriss.

“How are you doing?” Elise asked sympathetically.

“I’m fine. It’s Marlee I’m worried about.”

“At least they’re together. They’ll make it as long as they have each other,” Kriss commented.

“How do you know Marlee and Carter are together?”

“Maxon told me,” she replied, as if it was common knowledge.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you, of all people. You and Marlee were so close. Besides, you’re his favorite, right?” she said.

I glanced at Kriss, then at Elise. They both carried a look of concern in their eyes but also maybe a sense of relief.

Celeste laughed. “She’s obviously not anymore,” she muttered, not bothering to look up from her magazine. Clearly, my fall was to be expected.

I changed the subject back to Marlee. “I still can’t believe Maxon put them through that. It was disturbing how calm he was about it.”

“But what she did was wrong,” Natalie remarked. There wasn’t anything judgmental about her tone, only a quiet acceptance, like she was following instructions.

Elise spoke up. “He could have had them killed. The law is on his side in that one. He showed them mercy.”

“Mercy?” I scoffed. “You call having your skin torn apart in public merciful?”

“Yes, all things considered,” she continued. “I bet if we could ask Marlee, she’d choose caning over dying.”

“Elise is right,” Kriss said. “I agree that it was absolutely terrible, but I would rather have that than death.”

“Please,” I sneered, my anger coming to the surface. “You’re a Three. Everyone knows your dad’s a famous professor, and you’ve lived your whole life in libraries, completely comfortable. You’d never survive the beating, let alone a life as an Eight afterward. You’d be begging to die.”

Kriss glared at me. “Don’t pretend that you know anything about what I can and cannot tolerate. Just because you’re a Five, you think you’re the only one who’s ever suffered?”

“No, but I’m sure I’ve experienced far worse than you,” I said, my voice rising in anger, “and I couldn’t take what Marlee went through. I’m saying I doubt you’d fare any better.”

“I’m braver than you think, America. You have no idea the things I’ve sacrificed over the years. And if I make a mistake, I own up to the consequences.”

“Why should there be any consequences at all?” I posed. “Maxon keeps saying how difficult the Selection is for him, how hard it is to make the choice, and then one of us falls for someone else. Shouldn’t he be thanking her for making his decision easier?”

Natalie, seeming distressed, tried to interject. “I heard the funniest thing yesterday!”

“But the law—” Kriss called over her.

“America has a point,” Elise countered quickly, and the ordered conversation crumbled.

We were speaking over one another, trying to make our opinions heard, justifying why we thought what happened was wrong or right. This was a first, but something I’d been expecting from the start. With this many girls together, competing against one another, there was no way we wouldn’t fight eventually.

Then, in a disconnected voice, Celeste mumbled to her magazine as we continued to argue, “Got what she deserved. Whore.”

The following silence was as charged as our quarrel.

Celeste looked over her shoulder just in time to see me lunge at her. She screamed as I landed on her, knocking us both into a coffee table. I heard something, probably a cup of tea, smash onto the floor.

I’d closed my eyes midjump, and when I opened them, Celeste was underneath me, trying to grab at my wrists. I pulled back my right arm and slapped her as hard as I could across her face. The burning sensation in my hand was nearly overwhelming, but it was worth it to hear the satisfying smack that erupted when it made contact.

Celeste immediately let out a shriek and started clawing at me. For the first time I regretted not keeping my nails long like the other girls did. She made a few cuts on my arm, which only angered me more, and I struck her again. This time I cut her lip. In response to the pain, she reached for something—the saucer from her cup of tea—and slammed it against the side of my head.

Thrown off, I tried to grab at her again, but people were pulling us apart. I was so consumed, I hadn’t noticed someone calling for the guards. I took a swing at one of them, too. I was tired of being manhandled.

“Did you see what she did to me?” Celeste cried.

“You keep your mouth shut!” I screamed. “Don’t you ever talk about Marlee again!”

“She’s crazy! Don’t you hear her? Did you see what she did?”

“Let me go!” I said, struggling against the guard.

“You’re psychotic! I’m going to tell Maxon right now. You can kiss the palace good-bye!” she threatened.

“No one’s seeing Maxon right now,” the queen said sternly. She looked into Celeste’s eyes and then into mine. Her disappointment was clear. I hung my head. “You’re both going to the hospital wing.”

The hospital wing was a long, pristine corridor with beds against the walls. Pinned by the head of each bed was a curtain to wrap around for privacy. Cabinets of medical supplies were scattered throughout.

Wisely, Celeste and I were placed at opposite ends of the wing, with Celeste being closer to the entrance and me near a window in the back. She’d pulled her curtain partially around her bed almost immediately so she wouldn’t have to see me. I couldn’t blame her. I did have a rather smug look on my face. Even while the nurse tended to the sore spot behind my hairline where Celeste had hit me, I couldn’t bring myself to grimace.

“Now, hold this ice here, and that will help keep the swelling down,” she offered.

“Thanks,” I replied.

The nurse looked up and down the wing quickly, seeming to check that no one could hear us. “Good for you,” she whispered. “Most everyone’s been waiting for something like this to happen.”

“Really?” I asked, my voice as low as hers. I probably shouldn’t have been smiling this much.