The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  Oil and water though. Here we go!

  The room is in movement as the girls get to our assigned positions we practiced earlier in the week. Benjamin happens to be the first boy I get to dance with. He holds me properly, but I can’t help but be a little stiff at his hand on my bare back. This boy is a bully. Granted he looks good in a suit and bowtie with his amazing blonde hair, but he’s still just a dressed up bully. A very good looking bully, but a bully nonetheless. It would do me well to remember that. His baby blues do nothing for me. I can’t ever forget the look on that poor kid’s face that he and his friends made fun of.

  “I hear you’ve been kicking butt,” he smiles that killer smile that every teacher we have ever had falls for.

  “What?” I ask, taken aback for a second.

  “At my panel, one of our testers alluded to the fact that you beat my lie detector test score,” he shrugs.

  “Oh.” That seems to be all I can come up with.

  “I’m not really surprised though.”

  Is he actually being nice to me? What is this? He’s talking with me like we are old friends.

  “You aren’t?” I sound like a dumb fool. I need to snap out of it. I need to act like a girl worthy of wearing the dress I have on. It’s just weird that we are from the same township and he’s never given me the time of day before, but is now acting like we are all buddy-buddy.

  “No. You were always quite astute.”

  I look into his eyes trying to find a hint of him trying to play with me, but he seems like he actually means what he says. Is he actually trying to flirt with me even? Or am I just hormone drunk?

  “Uh. Thanks,” I say and move on. Of all the people I thought I would get attention from tonight, never in a million years did I think Benjamin would be so...nice. “Do you miss home?” I ask, changing the topic.

  “Yes and no. I feel like I’m more myself here than I ever was at home.” He shrugs.

  I’m not sure what to think of that so I just nod. “I miss my family.”

  “I’m sure you do. You and your brother have a great relationship.”

  I’m trying not to be shocked again. How would he know that I’m close with my brother?

  “Yes we do. It mainly consists of driving one another crazy,” I say, trying to recover from my shock. I think it works as he laughs. I just don’t know what he’s doing. Is he just trying to be nice and stick together because we’re from Omaha? Or is he manipulating me somehow? I don’t trust him. Not even a little. I remind myself that there are 23 other dances, and that I just have to survive this super confusing first one and then I will be onto the next one.

  We laugh about what we think is going on at home with harvest approaching and the song ends shortly after. I have officially survived the first dance. And it was quite the dance. Quite confusing. Quite odd.

  Next up is Oliver, the only remaining boy from Seattle. I tell him how much I like Marcia and ask if he knows her.

  “How do you not know a girl like her?” he laughs and tells me a few stories of going through school with Marcia and I’m laughing fairly hard as we dance in our allotted area on the dance floor. Marcia was correct in that he isn’t the most attractive of the bunch, but I like his demeanor anyway. He gestures with his head and our joined hands a lot and I find him entertaining.

  Next up is the boy named Adam who works with animals. He seems a bit uncomfortable in the setting but loves to chitchat about different animals. We are cordial and have a common love for animals, but neither one of us seems to light the other’s fire, so to speak. And I’m okay with that. I’m still recovering from Benjamin being so nice.

  Next are two boys from Denver. They are named Abraham and Douglas. Both ask the proper questions and make small talk, but twice I catch Abraham watching Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. And Douglas just kind of lets off the vibe that he doesn’t want to be here period.

  Cool, guys. It’s fine, I’m used to it.

  After Douglas, I dance with Trent, who lives up to his picture in that he is animated.

  “Holy mackerel girl, what did you do to your skin? Because it is softer than a baby’s bottom,” he asks as soon as we get into hold while smiling that same huge grin as his picture.

  “And have you been feeling babies bottoms as of recently?” I ask with a smirk, trying my best to look serious.

  “Oh. I like you already. You cheeky little beauty.”

  I smile at that and am starting to relax a bit. It’s hard not to have fun with Trent. I do realize as outgoing as he is that I’m not the only girl he has probably called beautiful tonight, but I appreciate the gesture all the same. We talk about the decorations and the weirdness of the Culling Candidatorial Ball and he has me almost in tears of laughter with his impersonations of the professors.

  Next is the boy named Joshua from Detroit. He’s somewhat boring other than his comment about being hard to follow after Trent that makes me laugh. I tell him how much I enjoyed Cadence and he says he is sad she had to leave. I remember being drawn to his picture, but in real life, though he’s attractive enough, he doesn’t seem to be doing much for me. I’m interested in him as a person, just not in a dating sort of way. And I’m kind of beginning to be nervous at this point that even with the overabundance of hormones in the air, I’m not going to have a romantic connection with anyone at all. Not that you have to or anything, but it’s definitely encouraged.

  Dancing with Bronson next is like dancing with a ginormous teddy bear, but I manage to handle his touchy feely thing well. He’s never inappropriate, it’s just obvious that he’s more touchy than most of the others. I’m laughing about a story he’s telling about someone beating him up in grade school when the song ends and the next begins. Still laughing, I turn and find myself face to face with none other than Henry Louis Maxwell.

  He smiles.

  Those dimples though.

  He takes my hand and we get into proper hold. His hand on my back makes me feel nervous.

  “Hi. I’m Henry,” he says kindly with the most amazing green eyes I have ever seen.

  “I’m Reagan.”

  Wow. I am shocking myself with my own embarrassment. All I can manage is an “I’m Reagan”? Maybe if he weren’t so good looking in a tux it wouldn’t be so dang hard to form words. A bow tie? How can a man look sooo good in a bow tie?

  “How have you been liking it here?” he asks, looking at me with his deep emerald eyes penetrating all the way down into my soul.

  “I really like the bed?” I say almost as a question and he busts out laughing which only makes him more attractive and makes those dimples bounce into action. I’m glad he’s a good sport so I gather all my courage and both boldly and nervously ask, “And how do you like all these girls throwing themselves at you this evening?”

  He laughs somewhat surprised and cocks his head to the side saying fancifully, “I am not one to over indulge in such frivolity.”

  “Well that is a striking disposition,” I respond, using large and fancy words back to him. I am trying to treat him like I would anyone else, but obviously I’m afraid to say much of anything in his presence and what I do end up saying is awkward!

  Why am I so embarrassing!? UGH. My heart is thumping rapidly in my chest and might just explode from nervousness.

  He laughs again. “My father did say you were a spitfire.”

  “Probably not the best thing to be pointed out for,” I note.

  “Ahhh. But I would much rather marry someone with a little fire in her.” He smiles and winks right at me as he says it and I almost fall over. Good thing he is holding me up. He just used the word “marry” in a conversation with me. Did that really just happen or am I dreaming?

  “Is that so?” I smile and try my hardest not to blush though I’m sure the heat is there in my cheeks anyway. Heck the heat is everywhere for that matter. He’s just so…beautiful.

  “Quite so,” he says. He pulls me just a little bit closer as we turn and my heart rate acc
elerates even more.

  Okay, I have to be dreaming. This cannot really be happening. Is Henry flirting with me? ME?! I tell myself not to read too much into it. He is probably flirting like this with all the girls. Right? Has to be. That would be the most logical explanation for this turn of events. He is probably just like his father in that he likes to make other people feel special. It’s part of his natural charisma. That’s all. Right?

  I try to keep him talking to me, wanting to get a better read on him. “Well, there may be such a thing as too much fire also. You should know that I have a bit of a temper.”

  “Is that so?” he grins looking down at me while maintaining eye contact with those smooth emerald green eyes. He is so animated, even when I’m talking, that it’s intoxicating. And I could listen to him talk all day.

  “Quite so.” I use the same phrase he used and he smiles once again and shakes his head.

  “By the way, your dress is my favorite of the night,” he squeezes my hand while he says it to let me know he’s serious. I hope my own hands aren’t getting sweaty. My whole body feels a bit feverish.

  “And how many other girls have you said that to?” I joke.

  “Well, none. But I should confess that I am only about nine girls in.” I laugh at his banter before he continues, “Regardless, it will be my favorite.”

  “Thank you.” I try not to blush again.

  Is the stinking heir to the presidency really flirting with me right now? And does he really do this with all the girls? Am I losing my mind? Maybe it’s the hormones. I am hormone drunk and so I am reading more into what he is saying than I should be. That must be it.

  “I would say the same to you, but all of you look alarmingly similar in your suits.” I try to keep the mood light.

  “But how will I know you won’t forget me then?” he pretends to look broken-hearted.

  I squint at him. “Oh, I think you’re quite memorable.”

  “Is that so?” he spins me around happily and I laugh.

  “Quite so,” I flirt back.

  I am flirting. Actually flirting! I wanna high five myself right now. I have never flirted before in my life. I hope I’m doing it right. He’s just so…drawing.

  “I have a bit of a secret, Reagan.” He bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

  “Do tell.” I gesture with my head not realizing our heads would be even closer than before. I can even smell his minty fresh breath. For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss someone. I haven’t ever kissed anyone before and am sure my first kiss will end up being an embarrassing slobbery mess. Lips just seem like a weird part of anatomy anyway. His lips are nice though. They look soft. Like little pillows.

  “I like your bright pink slippers,” he whispers, interrupting my inappropriate and rambling thoughts.

  “Wha--No!” I exclaim, suddenly horrified as I catch on. Has he been messing with me this whole time? I try to pull back but he holds me in place. I can’t believe it was him that I waved to last night, in my slippers!

  “Not to worry, beautiful. I found you fascinating.” He smiles and my fears start to fade.

  “Is that so?” I ask, wanting to know if he’s serious. He saw me in no makeup, pajamas with a coat thrown over, and slippers. Though from the distance, I hope all he picked up on was my bright pink slippers. I could barely see him so I hope he could barely see me. How did he even know it was me?

  “Quite so,” he responds with a grin and playful eyes. Before I have a chance to say anything more, the music ends and it’s time to switch. Before he leaves, he steps back and waves at me with two fingers just like I did to him last night. I am both thrilled and embarrassed equally.

  The next four boys didn’t even have a chance as I found myself jittery and distracted from Henry. Never in a million years did I think I would have a chance. I’m still not sure I do considering the glares I was receiving from every female in the room. If looks could kill, I would be dead at least a dozen times now.

  Over halfway done, I then dance with the President and find myself focused and back on my best behavior. He asks me some strange questions like my favorite food and favorite color. I ask all the silly questions back and find myself relaxing with the most powerful man in the room. Before I know it, and before I have time to really dwell on any stupid things I’m saying, I move on to the next man.

  I meet Knox from Galveston who is very intelligent. We are having a discussion involving Omaha’s harvest yields when the song ends. I move on to a boy named Grady, who has seemingly already drank too much champagne and is a little touchy with me. More than once I move his hand higher on my back. That song cannot get over soon enough.

  Next is a boy named Pierce who just talks about himself and how good he is doing thus far in the Culling. I get that he’s trying to find someone as an ally, but he needs to settle down a little bit. No one likes a narcissist. The song is less than three minutes long and I feel myself already not liking the sound of his voice.

  Three boys later, I am turning to switch partners at the end of a song and feel the back of my dress catch. Afraid it will rip at the slit and I will be naked showing the whole room my bare bottom or more, I willingly fall back onto my butt, trying to save my dress at the cost of my pride.

  So I almost made it through the ball without falling.

  As I look up, I see Marisol grin her evil grin as she sashays away. I know right then and there that she stepped on my dress on purpose. That girl! I want to waltz across the room and punch her in the nose. Maybe a head-butt too. Just to be sure to break her face. But as I look around, I see the whole room has stopped and everyone is looking at me where I sit on the ground.

  I squint my eyes at her but before I can even finish glaring daggers at Marisol, I am lifted up by some strong arms. People are watching and I hear a gorgeously deep and raspy voice say, “It’s okay, she just tripped on a crack in the floor.” To which people laugh and smile and then continue dancing. Magically, everything is back in full swing like I didn’t just fall flat on my butt.

  The floor is wood and has no cracks though. Jerk.

  I turn and find myself in the very muscular arms of Lyncoln and his piercing blue and brown eyes as he still holds me in his arms like an overgrown child. How is it possible both colors can be so prevalent in an eye color? I want to confront him about embarrassing me in front of everyone but am distracted by how good he smells. He smells like heaven. And he’s looking at me like he knows me again. It’s super unnerving. Other than seeing his picture, I know I have never met him before.

  We stand there like that for a second or two and then he gently puts me back on the ground and says, “Hasn’t anyone taught you to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

  He picks up my hand and brings me in close as we begin to dance. Grady may have been a little touchy feely, but even we didn’t dance this close. Grady made me feel uncomfortable, like he was going to inappropriately try to grab my butt or something. This, however, is different. Wayyy different.

  “So I take it we are enemies then?” I joke as the feel of his hand on my back is sending heat throughout my body. He places his hand in just the right spot. It isn’t high like it properly should be. It isn’t dipping too low like grabby Grady. It definitely covers some surface area of my back too. And I’m glad I’m wearing the three inch heels as he is definitely at least eight inches taller than I am.

  This time he does smile almost completely. “Probably should be.” He rubs his hand across my back with his thumb ever so lightly and I’m left with a tingly feeling traveling all the way down to my feet.

  An entire minute passes without him saying a word. We just dance and he keeps rubbing his thumb on my back.

  “Why didn’t you smile in your picture?” I blurt out, finally thinking of something to say. I find myself not even wanting to talk to him. His hand on my bare back is making it hard to think, let alone form a sentence, as I try to avoid those my
sterious blue and brown eyes which seem to already know all my secrets.

  “I only smile when given something to smile about,” he shrugs amused. “Plus, it made me look intense.” His bounces his eyebrows once for effect.

  “Nope. Had you pegged as dark and mysterious,” I say playfully but completely honest.

  “Oh. Even better.” He rubs his thumb up and down my back again and for the second time tonight I’m glad I have someone to hold me up.

  What. Is. Happening.

  Hormones everywhere that’s what! I remind myself that I haven’t even drank any champagne so I shouldn’t be feeling wobbly like this.

  Seeing my serious expression, he asks concerned, “You okay? Did you hurt anything when you fell? Ankle or wrist or something?”

  Uh, oh. Here comes the word vomit again. I just can’t contain it. I just cannot stop it.

  “No. I’m just nervous. What would you care anyway? I understand I’m not as pleasing to look at when Elizabeth is right beside me, but you didn’t even say a word when I got here. Not one. You didn’t act like you wanted to shake my hand either. Now we are dancing like we definitely know each other. Can you see how that’s a bit disorienting?” My nervousness does away with any filter I thought I had. Why am I telling him my every thought?

  Just shut up, Reagan!

  “Interesting. Elizabeth? You think I want Elizabeth?” he asks.

  “She’s very beautiful.” I shrug. “And smart. And kind.”

  “She is.” He shrugs the same way.

  “Okay then. I guess that’s settled.” I feel flustered. One minute he rubs his hand across my back and I want to swoon. The next he is calling another girl beautiful. And why are we dancing this close again?

  He half-smiles as if knowing the effect he has on me and enjoying making me squirm. “I don’t want Elizabeth.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” He shakes his head once for emphasis.

  “Well why not?” Suddenly I feel like I’m talking to Mr. Winters again. He has very short answers and I’m doing all the muttering and asking. What is it with the stuck up Denver people? At least Henry can carry on a conversation.