The One

CHAPTER 24

THE NEXT DAY PASSED IN a blur of black dresses and hugs. Lots of people I’d never even seen before came to Dad’s funeral. I wondered if I just didn’t know all his friends or if they were here because I was.

A local pastor gave the service, but for security reasons, the family was asked not to stand and speak. There was a reception, far more elaborate than anything we could have ever hoped for. Though no one told me so, I was sure Silvia or some other palace employee had a hand in making this as easy for us and as beautiful as possible. For safety, it was short, but that was fine with me. I wanted to let him go as painlessly as I could.

Aspen stayed near me at all times, and I was grateful for his presence. I couldn’t have trusted anyone with my life as I could him.

“I haven’t cried since I left the palace,” I said. “I thought I’d be a wreck.”

“It hits at funny times,” he replied. “I fell apart for a few days after my father died, before I realized I had to get it together for everyone else’s sake. But sometimes when something would happen and I’d want to tell my dad about it, the whole thing would hit me in the chest again, and I’d break down.”

“So . . . I’m normal?”

He smiled. “You’re normal.”

“I don’t know a lot of these people.”

“They’re all local. We checked identification. It’s probably a bit higher of a number because of who you are, but I think your dad made a painting for the Hampshires, and I saw him speaking to Mr. Clippings and Albert Hammers in the market area more than once. It’s hard to know everything about people close to you, even the people you love the most.”

I sensed there was something more in that sentence, something I was supposed to respond to. I just couldn’t right now.

“We need to get used to this,” he said.

“To what? Everything feeling awful?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “Nothing is the same anymore. Everything that ever made sense is shifting.”

I laughed humorlessly. “It is, isn’t it?”

“We’ve got to stop being afraid of the change.” He looked at me, eyes pleading. I couldn’t help but wonder what change he meant.

“I’ll confront the change. But not today.” I walked away, embracing more strangers, trying to comprehend that I couldn’t talk to my dad anymore about how confused I was feeling.

After the funeral, we tried to keep the spirits up. There were presents left over from Christmas to open since no one had been in the mood for a big gift-giving spree. Gerad was given special permission to play ball in the house, and Mom spent most of the afternoon next to Kenna, holding Astra. Kota was beyond pleasing, so we let him go off into the studio without bothering to check up on him. It was May I worried about the most. She kept saying her hands wanted to work, but she didn’t want to go into the studio and not see Dad there.

In an inspired moment, I pulled her and Lucy into my room for some playtime. Lucy was a willing subject as May brushed out her hair, giggling as the makeup brushes tickled her cheeks.

“You do this to me every day!” I complained lightly.

May really had a talent for arranging hair, her artist’s eyes ready to work with any medium. While May wore one of the maid uniforms even though it was too big for her, we put dress after dress on Lucy. We settled on a blue one, long and delicate, pinning it in the back so it fit.

“Shoes!” May cried, running to find a matching pair.

“My feet are too wide,” Lucy complained.

“Nonsense,” May insisted, and Lucy obediently sat on the bed while May tried the most bizarre forms of shoe application on the planet.

Lucy’s feet really were too big, but with every attempt she laughed herself into a stupor at May’s antics, and I was doubled over watching it all. We were so loud, it was only a matter of time until someone came to see what was going on.

After three quick knocks, I heard Aspen’s voice through the door. “Is everything all right in there, miss?”

I ran over and opened the door wide. “Officer Leger, look at our masterpiece.” I gave a wide sweep of my arm toward Lucy, and May pulled her up, her poor bare feet hidden under the dress.

Aspen looked at May in her baggy uniform and laughed and then took in Lucy, looking like a princess. “An amazing transformation,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay, I think we should put your hair all the way up now,” May insisted.

Lucy rolled her eyes jokingly toward Aspen and me and let May drag her back to the mirror.

“Was this your idea?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. May looked so lost. I had to distract her.”

“She looks better. And Lucy looks happy, too.”

“It does as much for me as it does for them. It feels like, if we can do things that are silly or even just typical, I’ll be okay.”

“You will be. It’ll take time, but you’ll be okay.”

I nodded. But then I started thinking about Dad again, and I didn’t want to cry now. I took a deep breath and moved on.

“It seems wrong that I’m the lowest caste left in the Selection,” I whispered back to him. “Look at Lucy. She’s as pretty and sweet and smart as half of the girls who were in that pool of thirty-five, but this is the best she’ll ever have. A few hours in a borrowed dress. It’s not right.”

Aspen shook his head. “I’ve gotten to know all your maids pretty well over the last few months, and she’s a really special girl.”

Suddenly a promise I’d made came back to me.

“Speaking of my maids, I need to talk to you about something,” I said, dropping my voice.

Aspen stiffened. “Oh?”

“I know this is awkward, but I need to say it all the same.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

I bashfully looked him in the eye. “Would you ever consider Anne?”

His expression was strange, as if he was simultaneously relieved and amused. “Anne?” he whispered incredulously. “Why her?”

“I think she likes you. And she’s a really sweet girl,” I said, trying to hide the depth of Anne’s feelings but build her up at the same time.

He shook his head. “I know you want me to think about the possibility of other people, but she’s not at all the kind of girl I’d want to be with. She’s so . . . rigid.”

I shrugged. “I thought Maxon was like that until I got to know him. Besides, I think she’s had it rough.”

“So? Lucy’s had it rough, and look at her,” he said, nodding his head toward her laughing reflection.

I took a guess. “Did she tell you how she ended up at the palace?”

He nodded. “I’ve always hated the castes, Mer; you know that. But I’d never heard of them being manipulated that way, to acquire slaves.”

I sighed, looking over at May and Lucy, this stolen moment of joy in the middle of sorrow.

“Prepare yourself for words you thought you’d never hear,” Aspen warned, and I looked up at him, waiting. “I’m actually really glad Maxon met you.”

I coughed out something close to a laugh.

“I know, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “But I don’t think he would have ever stopped to wonder about the lower castes if it wasn’t for you. I think just you being there has changed things.”

We looked at each other for a moment. I remembered our conversation in the tree house, when he urged me to sign up for the Selection, hoping I’d have a chance for something better. I didn’t know yet if I’d gotten something better for myself—it was still hard to tell—but the thought of maybe giving something better to everyone else in Illéa . . . that possibility meant more to me than I could say.

“I’m proud of you, America,” Aspen said, looking from me to the girls by the mirror. “Really proud.” He moved into the hallway, back to his rounds. “Your father would be, too.”