The Throne: A Selection FanFic

Chapter 2

The line was pretty long. It was full of rich people and poor people. I saw a girl that had messy hair and dirt on her face. I felt bad for her.

Many girls from Likely decided to enter themselves into the Selection. I don't blame them. Prince Ericson was royalty. 

"Next!"

I give my form to a man and took my photo. I am so sure that I was dazzling. "You are definitely going to be selected!" I heard behind my back.

"Charlotte!" I smile. She was my best friend. "Did you enter your name into the Selection?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I have a boyfriend. And plus, the prince is yours." she grins.

"Emelia! We have to go home!" My mom shouts at me, a scowl almost reaching her face. 

"Sorry, Mom," I mutter. "I was talking to a friend for goodness sake."

Mom looks at the time. "Tonight, they are selected the girls for the Selection. I'll buy you fresh clothes to bring." She states.

"MOM!" I exclaim, waving my hands. "The palace will provide clothing for me to wear."

"Fine." Mom says under her breath.

A few hours later

I watch as Gavril walks up to the stage. He's old now, but he still loves to be on the Report. "Welcome, Illea!" Gavril says with his usual booming voice. "We welcome you to the next Selection! 

Whoops and cheers fill my living room and the crowd from the TV. "On the stage is a young man, ready to take the next step into life. Here is Prince Ericson!"

I watch as the prince walks up the stage, he gives the crowd a little wave and sits back down. "So Ericson," Gavril starts. "What are thinking about having 35 girls roaming inside your house?"

"Technically, it's a palace, not a house." The crowd chuckles. "And second of all, yes, it's going to be nerve racking, but my mom will help me. She was like me, ready for a Selection."

Gavril nods. "Interesting. Now, do you want to know your Selection candidates?"

"Sure. . ." the prince says, shaking his leg up and down.

"Miss Evelina Martin of Whites!"

Darn.

"Miss Livia Lewis of Yukon!"

Come on, show Likely.

"Miss Analia Clarke of Atlin!"

Curse this TV.

"Miss Margo Patel of Columbia!"

Almost there.

"Miss Emelia Whitlock of Likely!"

That was me. Me. My sister screams in my ear. My dad dances like an idiot. My mom makes a shower of popcorn.

Nice.

The next week

"Are you packed?" peeks her head into my room. 

I turn my head. "The palace will provide us stuff, but all I need is my flute." I pat the case gently.

I walk outside the door to find haters and people who like me. The richer people glare at me, thinking that I stole their prize. The rest hold up posters. One of the posters said, "Freckles and Red Heads rule!"

I roll my eyes. Former-Queen America doesn't have freckles. "Bye Mom, Dad, Zoe." I say, giving all of them hugs. 

Soon, I was whisked away to the airport to meet my competitors.