HALE
Tradition isn't always a good thing, but it's always hard to break—especially when it's been passed down through generations, and when it isn't viewed as wrong. I suppose in the eyes of the people who have followed it, it's not amoral. But this one, to me, it was.
Sure, I wouldn't have exactly been alive if my father hadn't Selected my mother, my grandfather my grandmother, and so on and so forth. But that didn't mean I had to follow the same path they did. Unlike them, I wasn't concerned with creating the perfect image for myself in our perfect little bubble. I just wanted something real; I was done with the facades of the world I had grown up in.
But apparently it wasn't up to me to decide whether or not I participated in this sick family ritual, seeing as though I was seated across from my parents on a private plane bound for the Society's headquarters. My mother was thumbing through a tablet loaded with pictures of the "available" girls, scrutinizing each and every one. The expression on her face indicated she was enjoying it too.
I let out an exasperated huff. "If it means that much to you, why don't you just Select her and surprise me? Or better yet, why don't you marry her yourself?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Hale. I'm sure you'll get used to the idea. They're all very lovely girls. It's hard not to like them, darling." Her voice was dripping with delight.
I couldn't take any more of this. I narrowed my eyes at her, stood up, and walked to another seat. I didn't care how rude I was being, this whole thing was revolting—glorified mail order brides for the over-privileged. There was no way I would willingly agree to this. My parents even had to trick me into getting on the plane; they casually mentioned halfway through the flight that we were making a "small stop" on the way home from the West Coast. I was only a tad furious with them.
"Hale, would you at least come browse through a few pictures?" My mother called from the other side of the cabin. "I don't want you walking in there without a clue as to what you want."
I clenched my jaw. What I want? Could she be any more dehumanizing? She made it seem like it was something as simple and nonchalant as picking out something to wear to a party. But then again, that's how they saw Society girls anyway—just a trophy to wear on your arm. Those girls were people too, and joining the Society wasn't usually their choice either; they were typically forced into it by fame and fortune hungry parents who could make a few bucks by signing their daughter's life away.
That's how it was for my mother. Her parents got their wish, too; they were enjoying mooching off the high class life that their daughter married into. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother, but we had very different morals from each other. She practically worshiped the Society, while to say I frowned upon it would be an understatement. I knew too many guys who took advantage of the Society girls they had Selected—used them and threw them out like rag dolls. Of course I also had friends that were very cordial towards their girlfriends and fiancées that had come from the Society, but never once had I seen an authentic love between those couples. They were dull and meaningless relationships that never lasted. I didn't want that in my life; all it could ever bring me was unhappiness.
But I had a feeling that despite what I thought, we would be bringing home a new addition to the family by the end of the night.
YOU ARE READING
The Society
RomanceWhen Ella's grandmother passed away, she was left to the care of the Society--an organization that raises exceptional girls to become perfect brides for the elite, upper class men of the world. When Ella comes of age, she is Selected by Hale, whose...