Juxtaposing those stories with the one of my weekend dates cheapened everything about them. It was a waste of effort and worse, it was visibly taking a toll on Dad. Weeks had passed, he still had no idea how to address the caste issues, and pockets of rioters were calling for the end of the monarchy.

I was failing in every possible way.

After breakfast I went to my room, looking at my plans for the day. Were they worthless now? Was there a way to make these dates better?

I heard a knock and turned to see Kile standing at the door. I ran into his arms without a second thought.

“Hey,” he said, holding me tight.

“I don’t know what to do. Everything’s just getting worse and worse.”

He pulled back and lowered his eyes to meet mine. “Some of the guys are confused. They don’t know if they’re being used. Eadlyn,” he continued in a whisper, presumably so Neena wouldn’t hear his words, “I know our first kiss was for show. Is it all for show? If it is, you need to come clean.”

I stared into his eyes. How had I ever thought he was anything less than smart and funny and handsome and kind? I didn’t want to respond in a whisper, so I signaled for Neena to leave, and once she had closed the door behind her, I faced him again.

“It’s complicated, Kile.”

“I’m a very intelligent person. Explain.”

His words were calm, an invitation more than a demand.

“If you had asked me the night before everyone came, I would have said it was all a joke. But it’s not anymore, not to me.” The words shocked me. I’d fought caring about these boys, and I was still terrified of them getting closer. Even now, Kile was walking the edge of my comfort zone, and I was unsure how I’d manage if he pushed himself over the line.

“You matter to me,” I confessed. “A lot of you do. But do I think I’ll get married?” I shrugged. “I can’t say.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Either you want this or you don’t.”

“That’s not fair. When your name was called, did you want to participate? Would you say the same thing now?”

I didn’t realize how tense he’d become until he let out a breath and closed his eyes. “Okay. I can understand that.”

“It’s been harder than I thought, with so many disasters along the way. And I’m not as good at showing my emotions as other girls, so it comes across like I don’t care, even when I do. I like to keep things to myself. It looks bad, I know, but it’s real.”

He’d been around me long enough to know it was true. “You need to address this. You need to say something publicly about that story,” he insisted, his eyes focused on mine.

I rubbed my temple. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What if I somehow make it worse?”

He poked my stomach, something we hadn’t done since we were children. “How can the truth make anything worse?”

Well, that confirmed all my anxieties. Admitting how much this meant to me now might also mean owning up to the origins of this particular Selection. With the way things were going, that wouldn’t win me any sympathy.

He turned me around and pointed me toward my table and chairs. “Here. Let’s sit for a minute.”

I sat beside him, piling up some of the dress ideas I had been working on.

“Those are impressive, Eadlyn,” he remarked.

I gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, but it’s really just a bunch of scribbles.”

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t make it seem like it’s not important.”

I remembered those words, and they soothed me.

Kile pulled over a handful of the pencils and started some sketches of his own.

“What are you drawing?” I asked, looking at the little boxes.

“An idea I’ve been experimenting with. I’ve been reading about some of the poorer provinces. One of their bigger issues is housing right now.”

“Because of the manufacturing boom?”

“Yeah.” He continued to sketch, making practically perfect straight lines.

Dad did what he could to encourage more industrial growth in some of the primarily agricultural provinces. It was good for everyone if things could be processed where they were grown. But as that took off, more and more people moved to be closer to those areas, meaning not everyone had adequate housing.

“I know a little bit about how much it costs to get supplies, and I figured out that it’d be possible to build these smaller huts, basically like family cubicles, fairly inexpensively. I’ve been playing with the idea over the last few weeks. If there was someone I could get the design to, they might be able to implement it.”

I looked at the little structure, barely as big as my bathroom, abutted against an identical box. They each had a door and a side-facing window. A little tube at the top caught rainwater, and a small bucket collected it by the door. Vents lined the top, and a small tarp jutted out in front, shading the front of the space.

“They look so tiny though.”

“But they’d feel like a mansion if you were homeless.”

I exhaled, thinking that was probably true. “There can’t be space for a bathroom in there.”

“No, but most people use facilities inside the plants. That’s what I read anyway. This would be strictly for shelter, which means workers would be more rested, have better health . . . and there’s just something special about having a place to call your own.”

I watched Kile, his eyes focused on the extra little details he was adding to his work. I knew that hit home for him, that he was aching for anything that truly belonged to him. He pushed the paper away gently, adding it to the others.