Restored (A Caleo Selection)

1 ~ A Hope So Small

I was alone when it happened.

Of course, that wasn't anything new. I'd been alone for seven years straight. But there is a certain torture in having huge news and no one to tell about it.

I was in the living room, weaving the abstract pattern of a forest. As I stretched, my gaze happened upon the clock, and I was startled; it was seven already.

I turned on my little screen in the wall, turning up the volume. Someone -- I didn't know who -- controlled my television coverage, and I was usually only allowed to watch it on days of important events. Today was the announcement of the Selected. I figured that would count as an important event.

On screen, Julius Beckham (the longtime host of The Report) was welcoming the prince to the camera, and I took the opportunity to study the boy who would one day run our country.

Prince Leo was short, with unruly dark curls and a smile that seemed too big for his face. He wasn't exactly a fairytale prince, but I knew girls all over the world swooned over his pictures. I didn't get it.

"So, my prince, how are you feeling about tonight?" Julius asked.

Prince Leo looked puzzled. "Why, is something happening?"

Julius laughed with too much fervor as Prince Leo grinned at the camera. "Ah yes, there's our one and only prince of Illéa."

I squinted at the screen, unimpressed. I doubted I could stand being in the same room with him for long. A prince who took nothing seriously? That was a recipe for disaster.

"What about your parents? How are they feeling about their only child finally courting?" The camera swiveled to show King Hephaestus and Queen Esperanza. The queen smiled and lifted a hand, while the king merely sat stiffly.

"I think they know we need to preserve the tradition that's been in our country for so many years. And they know I'm ready." The prince wiggled his eyebrows. The prince.

Julius chuckled. "Well, then, let's not keep our audience waiting any longer. Begin the showing!"

A picture of a girl with green-tipped hair appeared. "Kayla Knowles, Bankston!"

I imagined just how she felt right now. She was probably out of her mind with excitement about her newfound fame and prosperity. Just imagine.

A girl with brown hair and striking blue-green eyes came up next. "Piper McLean, Angeles!"

And so it went. Names were called and faces appeared until I lost track of how many girls had been chosen so far. I had zoned out to the point that I nearly missed it.

"Calypso Nightlock, Allens!"

I jerked around so fast I got whiplash.

There was my face, a picture of me on my beach taken from a distance away, with my full name above it on display for the world to see.

Well, not quite my full name. My real last name was Nightshade -- someone had modified it.

My head was spinning. How am I in there? Why would they put me in the baskets? I definitely didn't even receive an application. Why is this happening now? Is it real?

Does that mean I'll be getting out of here?

I watched much more attentively as ten or so more girls were Selected, and then tried to focus on the wrap-up. Nothing helpful. Absolutely nothing.

What am I going to do?

Nothing, I reasoned to myself. If this is real, they'll come to me. That's all there is to it. It's probably a cruel, cruel joke, anyways.