I put my hands up in front of me, startled by how offended he was. “Okay. I don’t have to worry about Carrie. Got it.”
“Sorry.” The disgust in his face shifted to a shy smile. “It’s just that I’ve been asked that a million times. Other friends, our parents … it’s like everyone has always wanted us to be together, and I don’t feel anything like that for her.”
“I get that. Sometimes it seems like everyone wants me to pick Kile just because we grew up together. Like that alone is enough to guarantee you’ll fall in love.”
“Well, the difference there is that you actually have feelings for Kile. Anyone watching could tell.” He fiddled with a discarded pawn.
I looked at my lap. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I think the only way to stay sane through all this is to remember that you’re the one leading this, and you’re the one who decides where we stand. The only thing any of us can do is be ourselves.”
“Where do you think you stand exactly?”
He gave me a small smile. “I don’t know. Somewhere in the middle?”
I shook my head. “You’re doing better than that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile faded a little. “That’s kind of amazing, but also scary. There’s a lot of responsibility that comes with winning this.”
I nodded. “Tons.”
“I guess I never really stopped to think about that. But with you really being in charge these days, it’s a little … overwhelming.”
I stared at him, feeling certain I had to be misunderstanding something. “You’re not trying to back out, are you?”
“No,” he said, continuing to roll the pawn in his hand. “I’m just coming face-to-face with how big this is. I’m sure your mom had moments like this, too.”
He was uncharacteristically sharp, and this seemed to run deeper than his frustration about Carrie. As I continued, trying to keep my tone even, he avoided my eyes.
“Did I miss something? You’ve always been so enthusiastic, to the point that I’ve wondered about your sanity. What’s with the sudden cold feet?”
“I didn’t say I was having cold feet,” he countered. “I was simply voicing a concern. You’re constantly voicing your concerns. How is this any different?”
There was plenty of truth to that, but I had clearly hit a nerve. And after how hard I’d worked to be open with Hale, I didn’t understand why he would clam up on me. While I didn’t think he was the type to test me simply for the sake of it, I wondered if maybe he was trying to gauge my patience.
I clenched and unclenched my hands underneath the table, reminding myself that I trusted Hale.
“Perhaps it’s better if we change the subject,” I suggested.
“Agreed.”
But the only thing that followed was silence.
THE PARLOR WAS PREPARED FOR our coming guests. Two rows of chairs were set up stadium style, reminding me of how the Selected used to sit for the Report. We had food and drinks around the room, a security checkpoint by the door, and cameras circulating.
Behind the production staff, the Elite sat against the wall, and they all seemed to be excited to find a part of my job they could observe. I was happy to see that Kile and Erik (though surely his actions were more for Henri’s benefit) had both brought notepads. They’d come to work.
“You look lovely,” Marid assured me, probably noting that I was pulling at my collar.
“I was trying to look businesslike without making things too formal.”
“And you succeeded. You just need to calm down. They’re not here to attack you; they’re here to talk to you. The only thing you have to do is listen.”
I nodded. “Listen. I can do that.” I took a deep breath. We’d never done anything like this before, and I was equal parts giddy and horrified. “How did you find these people? Friends of yours?”
“Not exactly. A few have called in to radio shows I’ve done before, and others were suggested by acquaintances. It’s a good mix of social and economic statuses, which should create some well-rounded discussion.”
I took this in. That’s all this was: a discussion. I would see the faces of people who actually lived in our country, hear their voices. It wasn’t a massive crowd; it was a handful.
“We’re going to make it through this, all right?” he said reassuringly.
“All right.” And I reminded myself that this was a good thing as our guests began trickling into the room.
I walked over to shake hands with a woman who looked like she’d taken more time on her hair than I had and her husband who, while handsome, could have knocked someone out with the amount of cologne he’d put on.