2 - Hope

The skyscrapers loomed high above us, and the streets were packed with a line of cars, all heading into a gated compound.

My dad drove us into line behind the others, and I wished it was already sundown so the light wouldn't be streaming through the window and heating my skin like it was under a broiler.

"Who knew I should've put sunscreen on just for the drive to Holland Hall," I grumbled as our car slowly crept forward every few minutes.

The second we finally passed the gate guarding the grounds of the banquet hall, my mom craned back from the front and sternly implored, "Be on your best behavior, please. Everything you do in there reflects on me."

"Yes, ma'am," my sisters and I murmured in unison. We all shared a glance, then giggled a bit at how in sync we'd been.

My mouth, undeniably a gorgeous woman with her soft features and pale blue eyes, opened her mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of a horn blaring.

She looked up, and her eyes widened in shock as the driver beside us accelerated.

Someone had decided to skip the line. If I'd opened my door, their impatience would've torn it clean off of our car. At least they had the decency to honk.

When the coast was clear, and it was finally our turn to get out of the car, the valet ushered us forward, then opened each door.

I smoothed the wrinkles that had formed in my dress from sitting in the car for so long.

Even though I was eager to get the night over with and return home to play more games, I hesitated to walk along the high hedges that served as a barrier between us and Holland Hall, a place only the elite could afford.

It wasn't somewhere I'd ever been, and my sisters stayed behind, too. Their nerves helped me feel a little less embarrassed by my nervousness.

"Come on, girls," my father called from ahead. He'd already started walking toward Holland Banquet Hall, but our lack of footsteps behind him obviously didn't go unnoticed.

Finding her bravery first, Harper took the first step, and Arden and I followed right after.

As soon as we made it to the break in the hedge fence and Holland Hall came fully into view, I gasped. It was enormous and every bit the majestic place my mother had described.

Every wall seemed to be made of glass. Inside, warm, golden light bathed people golding the stems of crystal wine glasses in a soft glow as they chatted with each other.

That would be us soon, except I wasn't old enough to have the same liquid courage the 'real' adults were.

Expecting us to sit through droning speeches and endure catty gossip without a buzz was cruel, but no matter my opinion on it, I'd be walking into that building ad taking part.

Inside, the doorman smiled politely and asked, "Welcome to the celebration of Marcus Thompson. May I see your invitation?"

My mom pulled out her phone from her purse and showed it to him.

He scanned her screen, and a second later, he waved us inside.

As we entered, the air smelled of fragrant jasmine and a mixture of many perfumes and colognes.

While the scents were chaotic, the interior decorators had clearly worked tirelessly to create sophisticated elegance in the ample space.

The first floor was set up like a lounge and adorned with arrangements of cream and burgundy-colored flowers and simple glass sculptures.

This was where we'd be all evening, but my eyes were drawn to the grand stairs they had roped off. Don't they know that denying people access only makes them want it more?

Though curiosity whispered in my ear to slip under the ropes and sneak upstairs, the scent of hors d'oeuvres wafted to my nose. My voracious appetite overpowered my desire to snoop.

Seeking out the temptation, I noticed people in black suits carrying gleaming golden trays of tiny bites of food and made my way to the nearest platter.

My family lingered near the entrance, probably trying to locate their acquaintances in the crowd, while I inhaled a crisp, buttery potato on a tiny gold-hued stick.

It was like a French fry, but they'd made it fancy — pompous but delicious.

When they saw me eating, Harper rolled her eyes, but Arden's eyes lit up. She wandered over to me, and together, we went on a culinary adventure, trying each of the appetizers.

After filling our bellies with food, we moved into the sunken ballroom in the middle of the floor.

People danced there, crowding the space with flowing limbs and gyrating hips. To my surprise, the dancers weren't trying to appear even half as elegant as the decorations.

They were letting loose, even twerking and grinding on each other.

"Didn't expect to see this here," Arden giggled, echoing my own thoughts.

But the music being played called for twerking. It wasn't some stuffy classical arrangement but the kind of songs we'd hear on the radio.

I guess Marcus had something to do with that. If it had been up to his parents, I'm sure there'd be a full orchestra in the room.

Leaving Arden to dance with the others, I stood on the edge and let my eyes wash over each of the faces in the crowd.

Although I did see a few friends, I barely recognized anyone, and the friends I saw were sticking close to their parents, being led around the room. It wasn't surprising, considering most of the graduating class had just turned 18.

Their parents were probably hoping their child would find their mate in the room somewhere.

Leaving those friends to their fate, I made my way to the bar to grab a drink.

Before I could try to trick the bartender into handing me some of the good stuff, the man to my right turned around to face me.

He had the same shade of golden blonde hair I did, and our eyes were a similar hue of pale blue that was reminiscent of a light, wintry sky.

Everyone said we looked alike, and staring at him that close, it was impossible to deny they were right about our hair and eyes, at least. His jaw was much more angular, and his cheekbones were high and sharp.

Overall, I looked a little softer and much more feminine. People often described me as a southern belle, appearance-wise, at least. I didn't wear those frilly, lacy sundresses, so many girls in our area wore, and you wouldn't catch me wearing baby pink.

The dusty pink of my dress that even was probably as close as I'd ever get to feminine clothing, but that didn't mean I wore men's clothes. I just preferred simpler, less ruffly clothing, often in shades of black and gray.

Sometimes it helped me appear older, and I was hoping that was the case at the bar. Except, the man who'd turned around looked like me for a reason, and I instantly lost all that hope.

"Hi, Dad."

"Em, you wouldn't be trying to sneak a drink, would you?" He smirked at me, then ordered something from the bar and had the bartender hand me a champagne flute filled to the brim.

"Thank you," I said with my eyes narrowing. It was suspicious, but when I lifted the glass to my lips and the sweet, sparkling liquid trickled down my throat, I knew why he'd given it to me. "Sparkling grape juice, of course."

"You expected something else?" My father chuckled and grabbed a highball glass full of a rich, amber drink.

"A girl can dream," I sighed. Setting the flute down, my eyes wandered about again.

All the unfamiliar faces made me feel like I was lost at sea. The drinks and food were the buoys to hold onto, but I'd already done that.

My mom suddenly strode to me. She looked stunning in her black gown, with her pale, red curls spilling over her shoulder.

"Hey, Em, since you're busy, how about I introduce you to my friends? I want to brag a little. Indulge me?"

From then on, she made me her shadow, and I sighed. It was obvious why, especially as we moved on from the introductions so quickly.

Maybe if I'd been normal, it wouldn't have been so terrible, but as soon as my mom told them my name was Emery, their eyes went from appraising to drooping with pity.

They'd whisper about me when we walked away as if I couldn't hear them.

Maybe they thought I couldn't, but my ears were keen, just like theirs.

It was beginning to be too much for my fragile ego to handle. Gently, I grabbed my mom's elbow and pouted.

"Can we take a break? This is exhausting, and I don't even see the point." I might have been a little too whiny because she frowned at me.

Still, she brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and calmly said, "Of course, dear," while leading me out of the crowd.

As we walked, I noticed that people weren't staring at me anymore. I'd gone back to being invisible.

We took our seats on a couch, and I waited for my mom to start talking again, but instead, she patted the cushion beside her.

"Sit here, Em," Mom said, and I did.

She leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, "Don't give up hope."

I blinked, feigning ignorance so she'd admit why she'd been dragging me around, showing me off like she was proud of me when we both knew she wasn't. "Hope? What are you talking about?"

"Keep your chin up. You haven't met your mate yet, but you'll find him."

A breath of air forcefully pushed my lips open.

Harper was two years older than me and hadn't found her mate, but they didn't care because she wasn't threatening to leave Goldcrest City. In fact, she wasn't even planning on moving out of the house.

But I was, and my parents didn't like it.