“Now, some quick rules before we eat. First and foremost, for those of you wondering about the boys, yes, they are obviously in this building too. You will not meet any of them until the Candidatorial Ball. Only approximately half of you will be remaining at that point. Trying to meet them or find them in this building before that point will be grounds for dismissal and your families will receive demotions.” She pauses a moment, letting that sink in before carrying on, “You are to stay at Mile High and you may not leave. There will be a guard with you at all times. The two assigned to you will remain with you throughout the Culling. You may not contact anyone outside of this building. On the bright side though, the clothes in your room are for you to not only wear, but also keep.”
This gets some smiles as she keeps going, “For those of you wondering how this works, you will be getting schedules of our day to day activities after your round of tests this evening. We will be testing you in a manner of different ways before we get to the final four girls. At that point, the country votes for who they would like as President and Madam President. As stated on the evening of the initial results, there is not a time requirement for the Culling. This could last a week. This could last a year. Generally in the past, it usually lasted somewhere between three and six months. Tomorrow you will begin two history classes as part of your training, one of which will be to learn about all the past Cullings, the other more in-depth about Trident. You are all part of the fifth Culling. Being chosen for this is an honor. Making it farther is even more so. Congrats, girls.”
She then leads us in a toast and we clap afterward, looking and feeling hopeful. Before we are even done clapping, servers bring in tray upon tray of glorious food. Muffins, fresh fruit, waffles and syrup, eggs, a variety of bagels, hash browns, ham, sausage, and bacon are served to us. There is even a small chocolate fountain placed at each table in which you may dip your fruit. I’ve never seen anything like it.
We all dig in and chitchat back and forth. “I wonder” and “do you think” seem to be the trending statements of the morning. Vanessa appears to be falling asleep despite her coffee. I kind of wonder why, since being from Denver she didn’t even have to travel, but I don’t want to sound rude so I don’t ask.
Before I know it, I am stuffed clear full. I overindulged in the fruit dipped in chocolate AND a wonderful chocolate chip muffin AND a piece of warm ham AND hash browns. It is some of the best food I have ever had. I don’t remember the last time I had that much chocolate. And if chocolate is indicative of our time at Mile High, I hope I make it a long ways in the Culling.
Attie seems to be becoming less and less shy as we eat. “What do you think the President’s son is like? Vanessa! You’re from Denver. Have you seen him? Henry that is? I mean we have all seen his picture, but…oh my word. Is he nerdy? Weird? Domineering?” she giggles excitedly. “He just seems so dreamy.”
“Yes. And none of the above I don’t think,” Vanessa is looking at Attie like she grew three heads. She is clearly not taken in with all of the Henry hype.
“Is he as cute as his picture? Sometimes people take a good picture but aren’t really that good looking in real life. But is he? He’s the President’s son so I’m sure he is, isn’t he?” she looks hopeful. Renae can’t help but laugh because Attie seems so pathetic about him.
“I guess?” Vanessa smiles, shaking her head and her short, dark, almost-black hair.
“What do you mean you guess? He is or he isn’t. Which is it?” Attie is apparently not easily deterred on the Henry subject.
“He’s cute. I just don’t really know him. Even in Denver Henry keeps to himself for the most part. He doesn’t really leave Mile High. We only see him and his sisters in public with his father or for our yearly tests.”
“Bummer. I thought you would be able to give me all the dirty details about him,” Attie sighs disappointed. “I mean, he is like royalty.”
I suddenly feel guilty for not even looking at a single boy in my packet. I will get some rest after breakfast and then go ahead and start going through all of the boys’ information. They keep talking about the boys and which ones they find cute. I nod and laugh if need be so it isn’t obvious I haven’t looked at a single boys’ picture yet.
“Well, gals, it’s been nice to meet you, and I will see you at 1700, I mean 5, but I am spent. Sleep calls. See you later.”
We all say our goodbyes as Vanessa gets up and leaves the room. She is the first girl to go. She just kind of walks to the beat of her own drum. I find myself totally respecting her for it.
“Cadence, what time did you get in?” I ask, trying to keep the quiet girl roped into our conversation and knowing Detroit is farther away than Omaha.
“My plane landed just after 5:30,” she informs me with a slight smile.
“Goodness gracious, girl. You need some sleep,” I say, thinking to myself that I need some sleep too.
“Yeah, and I didn’t really like the plane,” she admits honestly and then blushes. “I took a course on engine mechanics a while ago. Knowing how powerful they are and what can happen if anything goes wrong is a bit intimidating.”
She has just said more words in that explanation than she has all morning.
“Oh, but Cadence you have a greater chance of dying from an upper respiratory infection than a plane. Especially these days!” Attie states, trying to make Cadence not feel as bad.
“Well, I think I am going to head back to my room and try on all my clothes,” Renae announces. “Anyone on floor 16 and want to walk with me?”
“I am. And sure!” Agnes hops up. I know her well enough to understand that she is very polite but likes time to herself as well. An hour worth of being social is plenty for her and me both.
“I think I am going to head out too. Anyone on 12?” I ask.
No one says anything at first but then Trinity says, “I’m on 13, I’ll come.”
We walk through the doors and pick up our guards as they walk down the hallway beside us.
“So, you’re the youngest and from Omaha, is that right?” Trinity asks, running a hand through her straight and super thick blonde hair while we load into the elevator.
She is very pretty, but I have a hard time seeing it through the cloud of pretentiousness she wears. A few things she said at breakfast were red flags for me.
“That’s right. You are from...Seattle?” I ask, straining to remember everyone and where they are from. 49 new names are hard enough without having to remember any other information.
“Correct. I am 21 and will be 22 next month. I’m not sure, but I might be the oldest,” she says with a shrug. Even the shrug seems a bit condescending.
“Then you will be the wisest,” I offer, trying to be nice.
“I would hope so. I’ve been training for the last five years. We all knew it was a matter of time before they called for the Culling. I take it very seriously. I can’t wait until they start kicking out the people that shouldn’t be here,” she says matter-of-factly as the elevator dings at my floor.
“Oh. Well, this is my stop. Have good day,” I smile and try not to let her bother me, but I feel like she was implying that I don’t belong here.
What did I ever do to her?
“Yeah,” she says coldly as the elevator doors close. No smile. Nothing.
I let out a heavy sigh as I walk down the hallway to my room.
“Get some rest. Forget her,” Jamie says quietly.
As he uses the card key to open my door I whisper back, “Thanks, Jamie.”
This is only the first day, cue the girl drama.
Feeling completely and utterly exhausted, I quickly change into some soft fleece pajamas and set an alarm on the clock on my dresser for four hours which puts me waking up at noon. This will give me plenty of time to delve into the boys’ packet and make myself presentable for the evening test. I fall into the fluffy pillows and am out in no time.
Chapter 3
At noon, I roll over, hit the alarm, and
snooze it for an hour. Then at 1, my stomach decides I’m too hungry to continue sleeping the day away. I throw a robe over my pajamas and open the door to my room to find Jamie. Instead of Jamie being there, I find Sarge.
“Ready for some lunch, Ms. Scott?” he asks nicely.
“Indeed I am, Sarge.” My stomach is dying for more of that delectable food.
“Sandwich or salad?”
“Definitely sandwich.” I shrug like it was a dumb question. I probably should be eating salads, but I have always done enough hard labor to indulge in food other than what Ashton and I call “rabbit food”.
“Tea or lemonade?”
“Tea,” I shrug the same way. As if it were even a question.
Sarge smiles and grabs a device from his pocket. “Lunch will be up in 10 minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say and smile back, remembering my manners at the last moment before I turn to go back into my room.
I grab my packet and sit in one of the gray chairs and try to get comfortable. In a few short minutes, I decide that the chairs are here more to look good than to actually use because they aren’t comfortable at all. Deciding it doesn’t matter, I quickly give up and go to the bed. I prop up a whole bunch of pillows behind me and lay down the packet in front of me. I decide to first go back over the girls since I will be seeing them again and want to know all their names. I am halfway through when lunch arrives.
I take a break and eat in the uncomfortable chairs because I absolutely do not want crumbs in my precious bed. I eat a sandwich, chips, and a cookie. I’m most impressed with the chips. Chips are not something we normally get nowadays and I am wondering where Denver is getting all of this processed food. When I’m done, I grab the rest of my iced tea and head back to the bed.
I sit staring at the closed blue folder awhile. Boys. I’m imagining all their faces. What if I don’t ever get to meet them anyway? Elle said half of us would be gone by that point. The chances aren’t good that I get to meet a single one. Even worse than not meeting them though, what if I find none of them interesting or attractive just like in Omaha? Well, to be fair, some boys in Omaha are attractive, but the attractive ones aren’t interesting at all or like girls that aren’t like me.
I stare at the folder some more. I almost open it once. Then I do open it to the cover page with the list of all the names. I look at all the names but can’t seem to bring myself to look at any of the pictures. A certain fear keeps gnawing at me…what if I am smart enough to do this, but none of the boys like me anyway?
Oil and water. I don’t have a good track record with boys. It started in second grade when Gregory Banks chased me around the playground telling everyone we were boyfriend/girlfriend. I was faster than him so I just ran away, but he just wouldn’t stop chasing me and so when I finally got sick of it, I turned around and punched him in the nose. That was my first and only detention. Boys have stayed away from me ever since. Giving up on the boys’ file, I slam the folder shut and decide a nice bath is what I need.
I run the water so it’s extremely hot. In Omaha, we get lukewarm water at best. I then sniff all the lotions and potions and find the soap smell I like best. I add soap until bubbles are all around me. I just sit there, soaking in the water and bubbles. If I go home tonight, this whole trip would have been worth it, just for this bed and this tub. I would rather take them with me than the stupid clothes. What will I do with the clothes back in Omaha anyway? Work in them? Ha. I think not.
I stay in the tub until the water is no longer hot. I jump back into my robe and panic slightly when I realize that we don’t know what we are supposed to wear or where we are going at five. I paw through the clothes in the dresser. I rifle through the nicer clothes in the closet. Just when I think I am going to freak out and have to ask Sarge of all people, I think about my mother and what she would do. “Dress to impress,” she always says.
I decide to mix and match what is in the closet and the dresser. I take out a long black pencil skirt and black heels from the closet. How did they know my shoe size for Pete’s sake? I then take out a sheer looking white top that is short sleeved and a deep red tank top for underneath. I put it all on and tuck in the shirt. I get out the suit jacket that matches the skirt and decide I’ll take it along in case I get cold or am underdressed compared to the other girls. I check myself out in the mirror. I think I don’t look half bad until I realize the battle is only half over. Now for makeup and hair.
Ugh.
I dry my hair using a hair dryer and decide wearing my hair in a loose bun, sort of like Elle’s, looks most professional. I do my best with my makeup, wanting to look nice but not overdo it like a few girls I saw this morning. I add the finishing touches: a splash of perfume, my watch from the President, and my necklace from home. I look in the mirror. Not bad. Unless everyone else is wearing a formal dress or something. I shake my head and smile at my reflection thinking that sometimes it might be easier being a man. I look at my watch and find that it is 3:45 already.
Afraid to get too distracted by the boys’ packet before whatever tests we have at five, I decide I shouldn’t look at that packet until later when I have more than enough time to go through it. Or that’s my excuse anyway. This might come back to bite me in the butt later, but surely whatever we are doing tonight has nothing to do with them.
Not knowing what to do with my time, I decide to start a journal to my family about this whole experience so they can read about it when I get home, which may be in just a few days from the sounds from it. I write down anything and everything. Checking my watch and seeing that it has only been fifteen minutes, I write down even more and include the chocolatey fountain and my ramblings on where they get chips and then close the journal and put it back. I go over the girls’ pictures a few more times and before I know it, it’s 4:40. I look myself over in the mirror once more and decide I look good enough.
I open the door to find Sarge. Being late is the last thing I want to do.
“Ready to go, or did you need something first, Ms. Scott?” he asks.
“I’m ready now,” I say, unsure if it is best to be early or almost late, but eventually deciding early is always the way to go. Being late or close to late gives me a bad taste in my mouth. I’ll thank my mother for that later.
After just a bit of walking and an elevator ride up a few floors, we arrive at a huge room that has tables and pencils and looks like the testing rooms we were in for the initial tests back home. Only three girls got here ahead of me, one being that Marisol girl. I quickly notice that there are name tags for assigned seating and thank Sarge while quickly trying to find my seat. I manage to find it, then go to the back of the room and get a bottle of water. I don’t drink it but keep it for later as I don’t know what time the test will be over or how long it is. I read the name tags of the girls next to me while I wait. Chrysanthemum Harper and Julia Collins. Chrysanthemum is from Seattle. Julia is from Galveston. I smile thinking I was correct in studying the girls more.
Just as soon as the smile hits my face, it disappears as I wonder for the hundredth time if any of the testing tonight will be over anything in the boys’ packet. What if the test is just facial recognition of all of the candidates? And I only studied half of them? I need to make sure I don’t take a huge gamble like this again.
Before I have time to truly panic, a few other girls start showing up. I find I know most of their names as they go to their seats. I look at the name tags around me and mentally quiz myself to see if I remember the faces of the girls that will sit in those empty seats. I am pleased to find that I am dressed differently from everyone else but am not overdressed or underdressed. Most of the girls are wearing a skirt suit. Technically I am too, since my jacket is over the back of my chair. I’m glad I look different though. I don’t want to be just another face in the crowd. Maybe that’s my problem though. Maybe that will get me sent home soon.
Soon everyone is in their seats. I introduce myself to both Julia and Chrysanthemum, wh
o goes by “Chrys”. They seem nice, but everyone is nervous and waiting for whatever test we are about to take to begin. Soon Elle enters and stands at the front of the room, clipboard in hand again.
“Good evening everyone. I trust you are all well rested and ready to go. This evening will begin the second round of your testing. You will have one hour to complete a written exam. Following the written exam, we will take you one-by-one for a short verbal exam. After the verbal exam, your guards will take you to the cafeteria for dinner and then you are to be in your rooms until morning. You may talk in the hallways or lounge areas on each floor, but no going into one another’s rooms.” She pauses. “Let’s get the written exam over with, shall we?”
She passes out the packets and gives us quick instructions. I take a deep breath and focus. I shouldn’t look around. I shouldn’t think about the verbal exam or what it will be like. I need to focus on this and this only. It is a 60 question test and we have 30 minutes to answer it.
I’m through the first five questions before determining this test sucks. It’s all subjective and on the topic of leadership. Questions like “Which of the following characteristics are most important for a leader to have?” fill this stupid test. Unfortunately for me, with the time limit we have, I don’t have much of an opportunity to think them over. If I did, I can usually come to some sort of logical conclusion with these questions.
Instead, I just keep answering with my gut and ignore all thoughts about how they would want the Madam President to respond. I look to my watch a while later and see that I have about eight minutes left and only a handful of questions. I take a deep breath then stop to take a sip of water before finishing the last questions. Thinking I will go crazy if I double check my answers, I leave them be and close my test packet.
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 5