I woke to the light coming through my window as Anne gently pulled back the rich, heavy curtains. She hummed a quiet song to herself, absolutely happy with her task.

See, it’s okay to completely dismiss them and their needs/concerns, because they are totally happy where they are!  They love scurrying around in fear and bowing to a brat who can’t be bothered to notice that ‘tremors’ are a really bad sign.  I mean, it’s not like anyone could hum for any other reason than being perfectly content with their jobs.  Nope, that would be just silly, so don’t even think it.  The maids are happy, therefore America’s treatment of them is completely justified.

Because fuck logic, feminism, and class equality all in one, that’s why.

These girls would probably be the easiest for me to get along with in the palace. I wondered if they could become confidantes of some kind,

She thinks they could be friends, then she immediately thinks in terms of what they can do for her.  She doesn’t in terms of what they might want or need, she just has a completely selfish thought about what she needs and who she can get it from the easiest.

Though I was a born Five, I was covered with Three-ness now.

‘Three-ness’ sounds like something I would write in these reviews, but nothing I write in these reviews should be considered professional, publishable quality.  I do minimal editing, after all.

Also, what exactly is ‘Three-ness’?  Is she saying that she is acting like a Three after nothing more than a makeover?  Well, I guess that would follow, since she was pretty much a brat to begin with.  Or does she mean that others will see her and treat her as a Three, regardless of her background?  We’ll never know, because we’ve got more bullshit to get to.

The maids all notice the dirt stains on her nightgown but don’t say anything, and America takes this as a sign that they care about her because they don’t want to make things awkward.  I guess it doesn’t cross her mind that the maids might want to avoid awkwardness for their own sakes, nope, it has to all be about America and what she wants. 

Also notice that America spares not one single, solitary thought for the fact that she stained her nice new nightgown, and these three women are going to have to be the ones to clean it.

I wasn’t used to being naked around other people—not even Mom or May—but there seemed to be no way around it. These three would be dressing me for as long as I was here, so I would have to bear it until I left.

And you can’t tell them to fuck off because…?

Look, the idea of a maid to help you dress is pretty old.  It comes from a time when high-class women wore dresses that one physically couldn’t put on alone.  There were ties in awkward places and adjustments to be made once it was on and like a million moving parts and layers.  Now?  Where she only has to wear easy dresses with zippers?  Not only does she not need a maid, but no one else does either.  Being thoroughly un-rich like I am, I can’t say for sure, but I would bet my measly savings account that no one currently has a maid help them physically dress.  Mostly because that’s hella-awkward, on top of being unnecessary, so why do it?  The more logical job of a maid would be to help coordinate an outfit, do last-minute repairs/adjustments, and maybe assist with hair and make-up.  But the actual putting-on of dresses?  Not so much.

I wondered what would happen to them when I was gone. … Did they already have other jobs in the palace they were temporarily excused from? It seemed rude to ask what they used to do or imply that I was leaving soon, so I didn’t.

America wonders things and the fails to find out the answers, because apparently she/this book doesn’t actually care.

Why would it be rude to show an actual interest in the lives of people around you?  It’s not!  GOD DAMNIT, AMERICA, ASK QUESTIONS!

America continues to show off her fake humbleness by picking ribbons and jewelry that she brought from home, instead of stuff provided by the palace.  I’m unimpressed, partly because HOW THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY NECKLACES?  Also, she doesn’t really think about why she’s turning down palace jewels.  It’s not that she’s offended that they have so much to spare while others go hungry in the streets, it’s not that she wants to present a certain image by rejecting the trappings of a decadent royal.  She just likes the way her own stuff looks.  I’m not impressed by her taste.  All this means is that if she ever takes it into her head to like rubies, she’ll go back to the palace jewels without a second thought, because she never had a fucking first thought.  The fact that she likes her own necklace does not make her a good person.  Having actual beliefs and taking a stand based on those beliefs: that would impress me.

Lucy’s hands were trembling again.

Perhaps she’s worried that not decking out her charge in frippery will result in her job termination.  But, hey, let’s just brush it off as a character quirk with no meaning!

Slowly, others started to trickle in. I quickly noticed a theme. Every one of the girls looked phenomenal. They had their hair pulled up in intricate braids or curls, away from their faces.

So the theme is ‘we have a competent staff’?  Well…duh.  I mean, if you’re going to talk about how everyone is dressed to a theme, I’d expect something along the lines of everyone going floral, or all the dresses being pastel and spring-y.  Not just ‘everyone looked good, but in a variety of different ways.’

Everyone here looked like a One. I looked like a Five in a nice dress.

Oh, shut the fuck up.  You had your hair professionally done, you’ve had makeup put on, and apparently you reek of richness to the point of scaring your maids.  Shut the fuck up with the false modesty.

I looked positively plain.

But at least I looked like me, and that was a minor consolation.

You have had everyone trip over themselves to tell you you’re pretty.  You’re wearing a fancy dress.  STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW PLAIN YOU ARE, BECAUSE WE AREN’T BUYING IT.  Seriously, this is just sick.  If she actually were plain, I might stand it.  Probably not, because that’s still an uncommon amount of attention paid to looks.  But America isn’t plain!  We all know that, so she ends up just coming off as a whiney little bag of emo that I want to punch in the face.

Also, all those other girls look like themselves.  They didn’t come down for breakfast wearing rubber costume masks.  They look like them every bit as much as you look like you.  I’m not even sure what she’s trying to say here.  That fancy hairdos make you look like a different person?  Because they don’t, they just make you look like yourself with a fancy hairdo.  Or is she assuming that all those girls really want to dress plainly (and then bitch and moan about it) but they got forced into dressed outside their personality?  Because that’s just unbelievably self-centered and takes away the option of these girls wanting to look like they currently look.  Perhaps she’s in a group of young women who like fancy dresses.  In which case, SHUT THE FUCK UP, THEY LOOK LIKE THEMSELVES, TOO!

This is all just compounded by the fact that this book sucks donkeyballs at descriptions, and we have no idea what these other women look like.  Other than ‘nice,’ of course, that doesn’t seem like enough to judge them.

They go down to a big room where there’s individual tables for them sit at and camera crews all over.  America sits next to Ashley.

I figured the worst she could do was not answer back, so I decided to at least acknowledge her.

Oh, wow, how magnanimous of you to acknowledge her.  Don’t strain yourself there, dear.

They chat a little, and America giggles, which gets her admonished by one of the palace staff.

“Tsk-tsk. A lady never raises her voice above a gentle whisper.”

Because fuck feminism, that’s why.

No, seriously, just fuck it straight to hell.  We’ve got female political leaders all over the world, from elected officials to actual royalty, and they are very much heard in addition to being seen.  This book has decided to take all of that and go FUCKING BACKWARDS with it, back to a point where women were just pretty bobbles.  Why?  Why make this choice?  Why do this? 

WHY DO YOU HATE WOMEN?

And since when is giggling all that loud, anyway?

Apparently Miss No Giggling is going to give them all manners lessons.

We weren’t to speak unless spoken to. Of course, we could talk quietly to our neighbors, but always at a level befitting the palace.

Excuse me while I go in a corner to seethe.

You know what?  For hundreds of years, well before they were allowed to hold any actual power, a woman of breeding was supposed to be an intelligent conversationalist.  She had to be smart enough to talk to men about the heavy subjects of the day.  Granted, not all men wanted a chatty woman, and even when a woman made good points they were still just good ‘for a woman.’  But the point is that we have always valued women who can speak and speak well.

Don’t speak unless spoken to?  THAT’S WHAT YOU SAY TO CHILDREN.

As Miss Manners keeps talking, America whines about getting her food, because she points out that she’s always had three square meals a day and can’t handle going hungry.  Say it with me, class: middle class American brat.

Suddenly, Maxon comes in and wants to address all the girls.  He sees America in the crowd and smiles at her, which confuses her.  You know, since she yelled insults at him the night before for helping her.

Maybe he found me entertaining. He had to get incredibly bored around here.

Yeah.  Running a country is just so dull, you guys.  Especially when that country is involved in multiple wars and rebel attacks. 

Maxon says he’s going to meet with all the girls one-on-one off in a corner of the room.

There was a low rumble of giggles.

But…those giggles are fine, just not America’s giggles?  Maybe she has a really annoying giggle.

So he meets with all of them, and still breakfast is not served, because apparently the 34 girls that he’s not talking to at any given time…can’t eat?

Finally, it’s America’s turn to go talk to him.  She apologizes and FINALLY admits that the Selection wasn’t even Maxon’s idea, though I’m still not sure how she even got that impression in the first place.

Both of these kids talk like they’ve been rehearsing speeches in their heads.  I mean, that makes sense for America’s opening bit, because she probably has been rehearsing that.  But everything that comes after?  Way too stilted and unnatural.

America reiterates that she doesn’t want to be there, and Maxon asks her if she could possibly even eventually love him.  Again: Who the fuck cares about love?  Why is this even a thing?  They’ve said a couple of times that certain girls have or lack qualities of a good princess/queen.  If said qualities are actually important to people, if the winner of this contest is actually going to be more than a bobble, then why aren’t they picking her based on those qualities!?

Well, anyway, America says that no, she loves someone else.  Then she asks him to let her stay a while, because her family needs the money.  America says if he lets her stay, she’ll help him pick a girl, because he’s obviously too busy to be bothering with this shit.  (But he’s not too busy to be incredibly bored…?)

So, there it is.  Maxon agrees to let her stay not because he is a nice guy who recognizes someone in a bad situation, but because he gets something out of it.  And America plays into the whole ‘all girls are in competition with each other’ bullshit by agreeing to spy.

Oh, and they argue some more about him calling her ‘my dear,’ as if that actually means anything.

“Did you call all of them that?” I nodded my head toward the rest of the room.

“Yes, and they all seemed to like it.”

“That is the exact reason why I don’t.” And I stood.

Ah, so, America doesn’t actually have any problem with the phrase.  She just wants to be a special little snowflake who does the exact opposite of everyone else, regardless of what they’re doing.

I bet if the other girls all hated being called ‘my dear,’ America would beg him to call her that.

America and most of the girls get up to leave and go to the dining room for breakfast, but a few girls are asked to stay behind with Maxon.  The king and queen are in with the girls eating breakfast, and apparently they are just so very pretty.  I don’t care, because they are clearly running this country into the ground, and pretty don’t count for shit in that case.

The palace serves them pancakes.  Because when I think ‘decadent breakfast,’ I always think pancakes.

King Clarkson blessed our food, and we all began to eat.

Well, that’s a little bit disturbing.  I mean, I’m actually a big fan of religion.  I don’t mind if it pops up in books.  But if the king is blessing the food, then what kind of religion do we have?  Is it a state religion?  Is the king the head of it, like Anglicanism?  Is it just that he is religious, so he says grace, and he’s the king so no one stops him from doing it for everyone in the room?

We haven’t had a single mention of religion so far in these books outside Christmas, and honestly, that could easily be turned into a secular holiday in the future that just keeps the name.  So when this pops up out of nowhere and then goes uncommented on, it feels like the author thinks it’s just a given.  Like “oh, of course the king would say grace.  Doesn’t everyone say grace before they eat?”  It’s just assumed that everyone is going to roll right along with that, just like it’s assumed that everyone agrees that sluts are bad and premarital sex makes you a dirty, dirty whore.

Maxon comes in, but he doesn’t bring any of the girls he asked to stay behind.  They are out of the competition, and thus we have our first round of eliminations.