3. THE MESSAGE

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IT FELT LIKE I HAD only been asleep for a few minutes when the alarm sounded. As quickly as ever, Grace dressed me in my robe and slippers and shoved me through the secret passage. I wanted her to come with me; the attacks were getting worse and worse and I feared for her safety. But Grace was stubborn, and I wasn't very coherent when I'd just woken up. Making  my way down the long staircase, I noticed I still had the picture of Ethan and I, squeezed tightly in my palm. Before entering the safe-room, I tucked it in the pocket of my robe.

Thankfully, all nine of the other Elite were there. We'd lost two girls already, too many for a competition Prince Ethan wasn't even sure he'd want to finish. I glanced at him from across the room, and it seemed he hadn't gotten much sleep either, his long hair a mess of waves. If I wasn't so mad at him, I might have found him really attractive in that moment. I looked at every one of the other girls, one by one. It was in these tense moments one realizes what's really important, and so I knew what I had to do. I couldn't go on like this with one of the very best friends I'd ever had.

"Are you okay?" I asked Gwen, taking a seat beside her. "We're safe for now, that's the important." She was always so calm and rational. "Are we okay?" There was no denying that she'd been practically ignoring me for the past week. We were both smart, and she knew that, but she feigned innocence. "What do you mean, Luna?" I looked her in the eyes. "You know what I mean. If there's anything I did wrong, please, tell me. You know I would never intentionally try to hurt you, and I'd hope the same from you." She stayed silent. "I miss talking to you." I whispered. Still, it felt like forever till she spoke up again.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I haven't been honest with you." Gwen looked away, her expression pained. "It wasn't intentional, but you did hurt me." She continued. "What?" I couldn't remember anything that could said or done wrong. "I think this competition is being too much for me. I've always thought I was a calm and collected woman, but I'm losing my mind." I looked around before speaking, and lowered my voice as much as I could. "You want to leave?" I wondered aloud. "No, I want to win." She declared. "I love Ethan, and I want to be with him, I want to win the Selection."

My heart sank. What could I do in a situation like this? What would happen if it was down to Gwen and I, in the end of it all? "I see the way he looks at you, Luna. Sometimes I wonder why he hasn't just ended all of this." Little did she know he was thinking about ending it, just not with a wedding. "How could you let this come between us? None of us can control how Ethan feels, no matter how that might be." No matter how much we wanted to control how he felt. She looked down, avoiding my eyes again. "I just think it's better if we focus on the competition from now on. Gwen stood up, and went to sit near Agatha, leaving me alone. I was so in shock, I barely noticed Hazel coming towards me.

"What's going on, Luna?" I looked back at her kind face, and felt tears welling up. "I'm so happy you're here, Hazel." Physical touch sometimes made me uncomfortable when I was upset, but I let her embrace me, knowing I could trust Hazel. I didn't explain what was going on with Gwen, but all the same, I couldn't let it happen with us too. "Do you think this competition will ever come between us?" She didn't miss a beat. "No way! We're each others bride's maids at our weddings, remember?" She laughed, always so joyful even in times like these. "For sure." She'd managed to make me smile.

The rebel attack ended quickly, only a few were wounded, and none had died. I felt so relieved, thinking it had probably been the Northern rebels, until we all came out into the hallways to see the mess they had left in their wake. Last time, they had tried to write words on the walls, but they were incomprehensible. This time, they were clear as day, and all of us stared. More than that, there was a mess of handwritten papers all over the floors of the palace halls, too much to clean up so quickly. King Theodore dared to pick one of them up, and there was a shift in his usually stoic expression. Not wasting a moment though, he whispered something to a guard, and headed off.

The letters painted on the wall made out "Child soldiers" then, "Free the lower castes". There were also sevens and eights, and skulls. I wondered what it all meant, until I, along with the other girls, picked up one of the papers on the floor. I read it just as guards were frantically collecting everything around us.

Your King is threatening and using Sevens and Eights as soldiers in the war against New Asia.

Those who've already served their time, our children, the elderly, the sick.

The most vulnerable of the lower castes are dying right under your noses for a war which we want no part in.

We are not disposable. We are not worthless. We want justice.








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