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“Oh wow, is that an actual hole in her blouse?”
I ignore them, hurtling back acidic retorts only from the safety of my mind.
My gaze remains on the back of the head of the Omega in front of me as we wait in the long line of students waiting to take their seats inside. My chest burns when Clara continues. “It’s a wonder they’re selecting someone from our academy, seeing that we’ve been letting in the street rats.”
What is this, Aladdin?I roll my eyes, but my hands press tighter between my knees.
“They’re not selectingsomeone, Clara,” an adoring minion says to her with a pointed look. “They’re selectingyou. We all know it.”
If you’re so sure about that, why are all of you, her loyal friends, equally primped and pressed?I let out a long, slow breath before inhaling just as deeply.
“Just because I’m the class president doesn’t mean it’s definitely going to be me,” she protests with such obvious immodesty that I have to work hard at holding back a frustrated scream.
“You’re also the student representative to the facultyandyou’re an excellent swimmer.”
“And your father owns, like, half of Cambridge.”
Clara chuckles with false modesty. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but you know the nominations are blind. I was just nominee number five or something to the Selection Committee.”
Her minions laugh nervously at that, not wanting to give credence to the thought in their leader’s head that one of them could very well be selected over her. But let’s be real. With all the money in the world, there’s nothing Clara’s Daddy Dearest can’t buy, including her spot among the selected.
It’s about at that point that I can finally get away from them, and I bounce on the balls of my feet eagerly. Instead of following the masses toward the front of the auditorium, I veer to the right, fighting against the flow, and find a nice seat at the back. Just enough light filters in through the window behind me that I’ll be able to read my Riley North while the rest of them wait for Clara’s name to be called out. I only got halfway through it last night after Kev fell asleep, and I’m dying to see what happens next.
Headmistress Hartigan strides onto the stage as soon as most of the Omegas are seated. I snort at how smug the strict woman looks today. Her hair is pinned up in a severe bun as always, but she’s positively gloating as she reaches the podium and welcomes us all before the reason for her smugness is revealed.
“I have been informed that Cambridge OA had the most nominees submitted of any school across the globe!”
She smiles into the camera set up in front of the stage. “Of course, that speaks not only to the caliber of students we have here, but also to our commitment as a school to the Royal Family as well as to the proud tradition of the Mating Trials.”
She motions to a man at her side who stands so straight and so still, it looks like he has a carrot up his arse and he’s doing his best to keep it there.
“Without any further ado, allow me to introduce the Cambridge Coordinator from the Royal Trials Department, Mr. Mitchell.”
The auditorium bursts into applause when she starts clapping, and the sharp-suited, carrot-clenching man takes her place behind the podium. “Thank you, Headmistress. As you all know, the Mating Trials are an age-old, important tradition that occurs every third generation. As such, it really is an opportunity that only comes around once in a lifetime.”
Before he continues with his flashy speech, he pauses for a moment to let the weight of his words sink in. “This year, the Royal Family decreed that one Omega from each of the forty academies around the world shall be selected to participate in the first round of the Trials. These Omegas were selected by an independent, neutral committee based on nominations from Academy staff, dignitaries, and instructors at their individual schools.”
I frown. There weren’t nominations permitted by the student body?
I figured that’s where most of them would come from, but…
Well, anyway, I knew the professors could nominate students, but it’s only now just occurred to me that there could be oneprofessor—or more accuratelylibrarian—who could have nominated me.
My stomach flips painfully, and I clutch my book against it, swallowing hard as a cool, clammy sweat slicks my chest.
“Omegas from academies in different time zones ahead of our own have already been announced. We’d like to congratulate the selected Omegas from Australia, Japan, India, Dubai, and Ukraine.”
He inclines his head as more applause breaks out. When it dies down, he gets to the part where he’ll announce Clara.
“The Omega who was selected from this academy was chosen based on her studious, subservient nature and having a track record of excellent grades. The nomination committee would also like to note that the essay she wrote on the importance of the Omega system in modern society wasremarkable. A true credit to everything Omega Academy strives to teach its students.”
As I process his words, my heart stutters, and my lungs seize.
No.
My scalp stings, the pins and needles falling until they pinch and stab into every part of me.
This can’t be happening.
