The next day, America gets ready for her big send off.  She’s going to an airport, and I think the airport thing actually holds up.  For once, the fact that we get shit-all of a description of this place works out.  See, there’s four girls leaving from this one airport, suggesting that there’s not an airport in every province.  Since there can’t be a whole lot of people who can afford to fly, that makes sense.  The one thing that could have screwed this up is describing the airport as huge and bustling, and since we don’t get any description at all, we can go ahead and assume this one is small and only used by richies and cargo planes.  

America’s two older, married siblings come to send her off.

Kota came by, too, though his presence added more tension than ease. As we walked from our house to the car we’d been provided, Kota was by far the slowest, letting the few photographers and well-wishers who were there get a good look at him.

Considering we know nothing about Kota…um, why is this tense?  Does he have a history of being vain?  Also, he’s poor as dirt and an artist.  (Because in this world, all artists are poor as dirt.)  Why is it a bad thing to want some publicity?  This might work if he was shown to be shallow, or greedy.  If, say, he had plenty of money that he didn’t share with his extended family, but still wanted more, which he planned to still keep to himself.  But we know nothing about this guy, so as far as we can tell, he just had the ‘should we have babies’ talk with his wife and wants a little extra budget for diapers.  That’s not evil.

It’s weird.  Almost everything about this book could have been fixed if America wasn’t supposed to be poor.  And also, if Illea wasn’t at war.  I mean, it would still be a book about The Bachelor, but it wouldn’t be quite so brain-breakingly stupid.

We were still linked when I stepped into the crowded square. It seemed like everyone in the province of Carolina came out to see me off.

Because apparently all these people living day-to-day off their unsteady paychecks just have tons of time to waste watching this girl they don’t know.  I get that this is a bit of a bigger deal than the actual Bachelor show, because the winner gets to be Queen, but still.  They got to work to eat, and judging by the current Queen, it’s not like the winner’s going to be influential/make a whole lot of difference.

As she stands on the stage, apparently everyone who’s a Three and up hates her, while everyone who’s a Four and down is cheering for her.

The upper castes looked at me like I’d stolen something that was theirs. The Fours on down were cheering for me—an average girl who’d been elevated.

The upper castes haven’t lost anything.  They are well off and going back to normal lives.  The lower castes have had something stolen: a chance to get out of their oppressive situations.  See, the problem with all this is that America isn’t representing some attainable dream.  She didn’t work her way out of poverty, or get discovered by a talent scout, or even go to school with the prince and win him over through dating because she’s just that charming.  She won a one-time contest.  No one else in that crowd is going to be elevated, unless they get drafted.  (And then, it’ll only be the boys.  And, hey, can people volunteer for the army?  As I covered before, it seems like a seriously good gig.)  So for the lower castes, she really is taking something from them.  Her chance to go to the palace means that they now have zero chance of going.  Instead, the book tries to play it off like she’s some symbol of hope and upward mobility.

I would be the best of us, the Highest of the Lows. It gave me a sense of purpose. America Singer: the champion of the lower castes.

Fuck you, brat.  You won a contest.  Unless you plan to use your newfound wealth and publicity to do something about all this starvation, then shut up.  It does not make you noble to crawl out of an oppressed caste and then walk around like everything’s hunky-dory now.  All you’re doing is moving from oppressed to oppressor, and that’s not heroic. 

The system is fucked.  You shouldn’t be trying to game the system; you should be trying to change it.

Perhaps I’m judging too quickly.  After all, she could still do good things.  However, she hasn’t done anything yet, and she doesn’t think about doing anything going forward, not in concrete terms.  She just spontaneously realizes that everyone around her likes her (for no reason) and then thinks “oh, hey, that must mean I’m awesome.”  That’s the sort of thinking that leads people to assume that they deserve praise just for getting out of bed and looking pretty. 

The crowd clapped and cheered. Some threw flowers.

Which part of the crowd?  The part that can afford flowers but hates her, or the part that can’t afford food but somehow inexplicably likes her?

America looks around and finds Aspen, standing in the crowd and holding the hand of some pretty girl that’s also in his caste.  I can’t tell you how little I care.  America cares, though.  She angsts.

The mayor gives her a send-off speech full of backhanded compliments.

He didn’t seem too bad a guy, but sometimes even the nicer members of the upper castes were condescending.

Hm…what was that you said just a page earlier?

Brenna was a Six and about my age. Pretty enough, I supposed

But it’s only the upper castes that are condescending, right?  Well, I guess you’ll fit right in, then.

Then she sees Aspen again, and he looks all sad instead of happy with Brenna, and I still don’t care.

Kota hugged me, telling me he was proud of me. Then, not so subtly, he told me to mention his art to Prince Maxon. I wiggled out of that embrace as gracefully as I could.

Is Maxon going to pay more than the average guy for a painting?  Is my assumption about an income cap wrong?  Is Kota just looking for publicity, because everyone will buy from the guy that the prince buys from?  Is there a limit on how much Kota can sell/charge?  Also, FUCK YOU BOOK, don’t tell me that all artists are occasional starvers and then try to make me dislike a guy who wants to make ends meat!

“Yeah, right! You’re the most beautiful girl in Illéa. He’ll love you!”

Why did everyone think it all came down to beauty? Maybe it did.

Well…yeah, so far it’s looking like all this book gives a fuck about.  I just can’t figure out why this book admits it.  Most at least claim to be less shallow.

“Do whatever they tell you. Try to stop sulking and be happy. Behave. Smile. Keep us posted. Oh! I just knew you’d turn out to be special.”

It was meant to be sweet, but it wasn’t what I needed to hear. I wished she could have said that I was already something special to her, like I was to my father. But I guessed she would never stop wanting more for me, more from me. Maybe that’s what mothers did.

Now, not only is this mother evil, but all mothers are evil.  Also, what about that advice was supposed to be so wrong?  Behave and be happy is now bad? 

One last bit with Aspen looking sad, and then the end.

Hm, this one wasn’t so bad a chapter.  Probably because the only worldbuilding bits were rehashed and nothing of substance actually happened.