Labeled (A The Selection Fanfiction)

Chapter One

*REVISED*

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I sit stiffly on the black leather seats of my family's limo. The chauffeur turns the steering wheel and the car changes its direction, just like me. I'm headed to a boarding school for the Prestige of Sarrione, the Fraussen Prestige Institute. In Sarrione, we are divided by labels, unfair labels that spread the disease of fame and fortune to a scarce few. The labels are divided into five levels. The Royalty, of course, are the people at the very top of society, and considered the height of perfection. One step down are the Prestige: the lucky, lucky ones, as society says, rich and famous. Then come the Elite, who, while privileged like the Prestige, lack fame. The Royalty, Prestige, and Elite receive thorough educations and occupy the most advantageous jobs in the country. Right below the Elite come the Modests. With just enough money to survive, these families work hard to get basic necessities like food and electricity. Underneath them all are the Unlabeled, the people that our government wants the rest of the country to forget about. The Unlabeled are homeless or very poor, unable to contribute to society because of their status, and overlooked by everyone in our society.

Instead of offering support for the Unlabeled, which would better both our country and their lives, we pretend they don't exist, as if ignoring a problem can vanish it. King Lamont says we should always be thankful for the kind gifts of "compassion and equality that were bestowed upon this land." His words are snake-like: twisting, manipulating, and fake. He tries to make the privileged feel better about their blissful ignorance when he should be working towards better living conditions for the Modests and the Unlabeled, medical care, insurance, and food support. About forty years ago, Sarroine actually didn't have these government-issued labels that define and restrict us. When King Maxon and Queen America were in power, they ended the caste system and beautifully integrated every citizen into normal society. Soon, the stigmas of being in a lower caste were gone and our country was functioning well. But some previous Twos and Threes, the higher castes from before, called for a reinstatement of the caste system, and King Lamont, King Maxon and Queen America's son, irresponsibly listened to the wealthy and gave every citizen a Label.

Since our family used to be Twos, my mother is only one of the many in my family that believes everyone who has money and status is superior to those without them. Her piercing voice, warning me to behave properly in society, echoes in my ears. You shouldn't mingle with the people who are labeled lower than you. Our family is labeled Prestige for a reason. I disagree with her. I think that everyone should have an equal chance at success, no matter their label. And because of my 'absurd' beliefs, my mother thinks I am a problem and a disgrace.

In public, I'm the perfect, poised daughter and she is a graceful mother. Not so much at home, though, where we barely interact, and when we do, we usually end up bickering. So, my mother's solution is to ship me off to boarding school and surround me with other Prestige. I've always wished to have a close relationship with my mother, but she seems determined to distance herself from any semblance of love. I used to hope for closeness between us every day, but I know it's only wishful thinking. She is singed by fame and money like a piece of paper burned around the edges. She thinks being famous and rich will earn her favor in the King's court, and unfortunately it's somewhat true - he doesn't listen one bit to the Modests or the Unlabeled but highly values the opinion of the wealthy Prestige. But...I think the prince does care about the lower Labels' opinions. I don't know why, but there seems to be something different about Prince Alexander.

§§§§§

As I enter the lobby, I say goodbye to Reagan, my personal butler and friend. He is such a sweetheart, and knows how much I despise the visible boundaries between the Labels.