Beyond Her Beauty

CHAPTER 42 (Overthinking √)

“Lily," He chuckled a little. “This is what you’ve been working up about?” he asked, shaking his head. “How is that stressful? That sounds like fun, and I knew you well, you can do that in just a flick of your finger.”

“I thought it would be, too. But I can’t come up with anything. What would you do?”

Bridger thought for a moment. “I know! You should do a caste exchange program,” he said, his eyes glittering with excitement. I don't know but it enlighten me.

“Omy!”

“People from the upper castes switch places with people from the lower castes. You get my point?”

“I don’t think that would work, Bridger, at least not for this project.”

“It’s a great idea,” he insisted. “Can you imagine someone like Selena breaking her nails stocking shelves? It’d serve them right.”

I chuckled a little.

“What’s gotten into you? Aren’t some of the guards natural Twos? Aren’t they your friends now?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me,” he answered defensively. “I’m the same as ever. You’re the one who’s forgotten what it was like to live in a house with no heat. You've been stressing yourself Lily, you change.”

I straightened my back. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m trying to come up with a service project to stop things like that. Even if I go home, someone might use my idea, so I need it to be good. I want to help people.”

“Don’t forget it Lily.” Bridger implored me with a quiet passion in his eyes. “This government sat by while you went without food. They let my brother get beaten in the square. All the talk in the world won’t undo what we are. They put us in a corner we could never get out of on our own, and they’re not in a rush to pull us out. Lily, they just don’t get it.”

I huffed and stood.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Back to the Elite’s Room,” I answered, starting to move.

Bridger followed. “Are we seriously fighting over some stupid project?”

I turned on him. “No. We’re fighting because you don’t get it either. I’m a Three now. And you’re a Two. Instead of being bitter about what we were handed, why can’t you see the chance you have? You can change your family’s life. You could probably change lots of lives. And all you want to do is settle the score. That’s not going to get anyone anywhere.”

Bridger didn’t say anything, and I left. I tried not to be upset with him for being passionate about what he wanted. If anything, wasn’t that an admirable quality? But it made me think so much about the castes and how they couldn’t be undone that I started getting angry about the situation. I felt I was alone right now.

Nothing was going to change it. So why bother?

I played my piano. I took a warm bath. I tried to nap. I spent part of the evening sitting in a quiet room. I sat on my balcony.

None of it mattered. It was getting dangerously late in the game, and I still had nothing for my project. I was too stressed about the elimination.

I lay in bed for hours, trying to sleep and not getting far with that either. I kept flashing back to Bridger’s angry words, his constant struggle with his lot in life. I thought about Kaden and his ultimatum, his demand for me to commit. And then I wondered if any of this mattered anyway, since I was certainly going home as soon as I showed up Friday night without anything to present.

I sighed and pulled back my blankets. I’d been avoiding looking at this diary again; I was worried that it would give me more questions than answers. But maybe something in there would give me direction, something I could talk about on the Report.

Besides, even if I couldn’t help myself, I had to know what happened to his daughter. I was pretty sure her name was Kaè, so I flipped through the book looking for any mention of her, ignoring everything else, until I found a picture of a girl standing next to a man who appeared to be much older. Maybe it was just my imagination, but she looked like she’d been crying.

______________________________

KAE KASANADRITA WAS FINALLY MARRIED TODAY TO EMIL DE MONPEZAT OF SWENDWAY. SHE SOBBED THE WHOLE WAY TO THE CHURCH UNTIL I MADE IT CLEAR THAT IF SHE DIDN’T STRAIGHTEN UP FOR THE CEREMONY, THERE’D BE HELL TO PAY AFTERWARD. HER MOTHER ISN’T HAPPY, AND I SUSPECT SPENCER IS UPSET NOW THAT HE’S AWARE OF HOW LITTLE HIS SISTER WANTED TO GO THROUGH WITH THIS. BUT SPENCER IS BRIGHT. I THINK HE’LL FALL INTO LINE QUICKLY ONCE HE SEES ALL THE POSSIBILITIES I’VE CREATED FOR HIM. AND CULLEN IS SO SUPPORTIVE; I WISH I COULD TAKE WHATEVER IT IS IN HIS SYSTEM AND INJECT IT INTO THE REST OF THE POPULATION. THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID FOR THE YOUNG. IT’S SPENCER AND CULLEN’S GENERATION THAT HAS BEEN THE MOST HELPFUL IN GETTING ME WHERE I AM. THEIR ENTHUSIASM IS UNSWAYABLE, AND THEY ARE A FAR MORE POPULAR CROWD FOR OTHERS TO LISTEN TO THAN THE FEEBLE ELDERLY WHO INSIST WE’VE GONE DOWN THE WRONG PATH. I KEEP WONDERING IF THERE’S A WAY TO SILENCE THEM FOR GOOD THAT WOULDN’T MIRE MY NAME.

EITHER WAY, WE ARE SLATED TO HAVE THE CORONATION TOMORROW. NOW THAT SWENDWAY HAS GOTTEN THE POWERFUL ALLY OF THE NORTH AMERICAN UNION, I CAN HAVE WHAT I WANT: A CROWN. I THINK THIS IS A FAIR TRADE. WHY SETTLE FOR PRESIDENT Milléa WHEN I CAN BE KING Milléa INSTEAD? THROUGH MY DAUGHTER, I’VE BEEN DEEMED ROYAL.

EVERYTHING IS IN PLACE. AFTER TOMORROW THERE WILL BE NO TURNING BACK.

______________________________

He sold her. The pig sold his daughter to a man she hated so he could have everything he wanted.

My instinct was to close the book again, to shut it all out. But I forced myself to flip through it, reading passages at random. In one place a rough diagram of the caste system was laid out, originally dreamed up with six tiers instead of eight. On another page he plotted to change people’s last names to separate them from their pasts. One line made it clear that he intended to punish his enemies by placing them lower on the scale and reward the loyal by placing them higher.

I wondered if my great-grandparents simply had nothing to offer or if they had resisted this. I hoped it was the latter.

What should my last name have been? Did Dad know?

My whole life I’d been led to believe that George Milléa was a hero, the person who saved our country when we were on the edge of oblivion. Clearly, he was nothing more than a power-hungry monster. What kind of man manipulated people so willingly? What kind of man hawked his daughter for his own convenience?

I looked at the older entries I’d read in a new light. He never said he wanted to be a great family man; he just wanted to look like one. He would play by Wallis’s rules for now. He was using his son’s peers to gain support. He was playing a game from the very beginning.

I felt nauseated. I stood and paced the floor, trying to wrap my head around it all.