Prologue
…………..
Five Years before the Culling
She was spying, but whatever. She couldn’t help it her brothers were oblivious. She’d been doing it for years.
James had been acting weird. He’d come home from training super ticked and gone directly to the gym. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself; she did it all the time too. But it was the way he stormed down there and immediately started pounding his punching bag.
He was seriously pissed off about something.
So she listened, hanging out in the kitchen and living room, giving him space and waiting for him to come back upstairs. When she finally heard him approaching, she quickly lay down on the couch with her book in hand, like she had been there the whole time. Like she gave two craps about this frilly love story she was pretending to be engrossed in. Like she wasn’t about to follow him.
But he didn’t even see her over the top of the couch as he stormed toward their father’s office.
Well, that can’t be good.
She sat up, straining to hear anything. But after his knock, she couldn’t hear a thing. So she got up slowly, ready to follow.
Right at that moment, her mom came in and ruined her master plan.
“Hey, Kens,” she greeted her.
Kennedy fell back on the couch as if she’d just been repositioning herself. “Hey.”
“How was your day?” her mother asked, opening the fridge for some tea.
“Um. Better than James’s, I think. He’s pissed about something,” Kennedy admitted, hoping her mom hadn’t caught her spying. She put her nose back into the book with the too-smooth male lead.
Okay. So she might actually like these stupid love stories a teeny bit. They grated on her nerves, yet she still read them anyway. And what did that say about her? Everyone had their guilty pleasures, right?
“Why?”
Kennedy shrugged and kept her eyes on the book. “He came home mad about something. Went straight to the punching bag. Now he’s with Dad in his office.”
“Oh crap.” Her mom froze, iced tea in hand. Then she shut the fridge door and abandoned the tea on the counter of the large kitchen island. That action should have been Kennedy’s first clue something was going down. Her mother would never abandon a tea—especially a freshly poured iced tea.
“Oh crap—what?” Kennedy asked.
But her mom wasn’t listening to her anymore, or simply didn’t hear her, because she was already en route to the office.
Kennedy wanted to follow but knew it’d be obvious. Not wanting her parents and James to notice her and shut her out of the conversation, she forced herself to stay put and count to twenty slowly.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
Sometimes she felt like her parents had too many secrets. Not from each other—just in general. Keeping secrets for the whole nation had to be exhausting.
Nineteen. Twenty.
She slowly moved toward the office, taking special care not to step on the side where the credenza sat. It had a drawer handle that always jiggled when people walked by.
“Let me guess—Cassie said something?” she heard her mom ask James.
“I just finished basics. Why wouldn’t you wait a few years? Why wouldn’t you let us at least have a shot?” The hurt and frustration was clear in her twin brother’s voice.
What were they talking about? Something about this immediately bothered her, and her stomach began churning. They couldn’t be talking about the Culling, could they? They were at least two more years out. Probably closer to five than two—not that James and Kennedy hadn’t already been preparing for it, but still.
“It's not at all like that, James.” Her mom spoke so softly Kennedy had to move closer to hear.
“I just didn’t realize I was such a disappointment that you didn’t think I would be capable of leading our country.” James had to be talking to her dad, since he wasn’t restraining the growing volume of his voice.
Kennedy had a feeling that if she could see James, he’d be radiating with anger right about now.
But what had him thinking their parents didn’t believe in him all of a sudden?! Him. Their golden boy. What was she missing?
“You assume I don’t think you are capable?” Her dad’s voice again. “That’s not at all it, James. Couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
James made an exasperated noise. “Then why would you call a Culling before I’m old enough to qualify? Why would you wipe out my chances like that? I always thought you’d call it when Kens and I turned twenty or twenty-one. I guess I thought you’d want us to have a shot.”
THEY WERE CALLING A CULLING NOW?!
Oh no, no, no, no, no.
No wonder James was so ticked. She was right there with him now. Their parents wouldn’t do that to them, would they? Take away their future just like that? She felt the air leave her lungs as if stolen from her body.
She took another few steps closer to the partially open office door.
Her dad’s voice was calm and understanding. “Look. Your mother and I are tired, and this recent issue in Kansas City with the Rebels is proving that our job is not an easy one. . .”
She zoned out the rest of what he said because she was honestly just so pissed. In protecting them, they were just going to wipe out their chances altogether?!
This wasn’t making a whole lot of sense to Kennedy and the more she listened, the angrier she got.
Her mom’s voice added, “Nothing has been decided. We just thought if we called one before you were of age, then as a family we could get out of the spotlight and find a new normal. One where I don’t get daily reports and complaints on my kids because everyone thinks they’ll be the next president. The expectations you three have to live up to are nothing short of brutal.”
Nothing had been decided. Thank goodness. Kennedy took another step forward. She was now completely ticked at her parents and also half ticked at James for not coming to her right away. This didn’t just concern him. It concerned both of them. Well, all three of them, really.
James was quiet, probably fuming. She heard her dad’s voice again next. “It’s hard enough to be your age as a normal kid—I can’t imagine what it’s like going through it with everyone loving or hating you because you’re an heir. Everything you do is watched under a magnifying glass. Your mom and I watch you guys being forced into being adults because of who we are, what we do. We wanted to give you the chance to be teens without the weight of all these responsibilities. To be whoever you wanted to be, presidential family aside. I spoke with your uncle Henry about this because he was in your shoes. He lived what you guys are going through.”
"Kennedy Grace, if you are going to eavesdrop, you could make it less obvious," her mom snapped, her voice aimed at the door.
Oh crap. She’d been had, but she didn’t even care. It was about time she made an entrance anyway. A pissy one.
"That's total crap." Kennedy walked into the office with the rest of them. As she crossed her arms, her long braid fell back over her shoulder with the force of the movement.
"Excuse me?" Her dad’s eyebrows raised, and his eyes, identical to hers, drilled into her.
She wasn’t going to back down, though. Her dad was harmless. “In giving us a chance to be teenagers, you are going to potentially take opportunities from our future, our adulthood. You’ll be burning the bridges we’ve been working to build. ‘To whom much is given, much will be required.’ That’s what you always tell us. Who gives a crap about being teenagers? We want a shot in the next Culling. We grew up knowing we’d have one, and now all of a sudden, just a few years out, you think otherwise?”