Finally we come to an agreement on the escape plan after thirty minutes of going back and forth. We’ll wait until after the meeting with the wedding planner, just to make sure the Regime doesn’t suspect that I’m going to resist getting married. Maybe they’ll let their guard down a little more.
The following day, after getting Owen back under control when he realizes I’ll have to go over to the hospital to meet with the wedding planner instead of her coming to my dorm, I head to a hospital conference room. It feels about a mile away through the winding hallways, twisting, ornate staircases, and covered walkways that connect all of the hospital’s many properties downtown. Once I reach the conference room in the administration building, I’m greeted with coffee and croissants. There’s a cheese plate, cake samples and champagne. The table is decorated with lace swatches, shoes, and fabrics. A tiny, black-haired, bird-like woman in a navy pantsuit holds a digital tablet the size of her abdomen in her hand.
“I’m Ginger, the wedding planner. You must be Wilhelmina.”
“Please, call me Minnie. What’s all this?” I try to look interested but not too excited. I don’t want to oversell the idea that I might be coming around to having an arranged marriage. Protest too much or too little and I might arouse suspicion.
Ginger looks surprised. “All the intricate parts of a wedding ceremony, of course! Have you never been to one, dear?”
I look around the room and can hardly believe all the decisions I’m going to have to make for a sham wedding. I take a breath and steel myself.
I try my best to pretend while I pick different things. It’s crazy, all the extra measures the Regime is taking for this wedding. They’re spending so much on stupid stuff when others are starving on the other side of the wall. It makes me sick and angry.
“Bold choices, I love your style.” Ginger happy-claps as if this were her wedding.
“Now, I’m talking about lots and lots and lots of tulle. Like, so much tulle, I won’t be able to fit through the doorway,” I add, fighting an eye roll.
“My dear, as I said before, when the Regime arranges a wedding, you get exactly what you want.”
“I know I shouldn’t question it, but this is so bizarre and twisted to me.”
Ginger hesitates, looking around the room, then leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Two things. One, this will be a special live television event. Every scholarship wedding is televised, you know. Any time a non-elite is matched with an elite and it’s actually sanctioned by the government, it’s an opportunity for The Leader to gain favor with people. It gives people hope. It’s an act of benevolence, to win the hearts and minds of the public. The second reason, these will be the last choices you may ever get in life, depending on the kind of husband they stick you with.”
I don’t point out that this is some very big talk for someone working for the Regime. Is this woman for real? Is she trying to gain my trust, or just stating facts? More importantly, there are going to be cameras there? That sparks an idea.
“Guest list?” Ginger asks.
I don’t have any friends or family to speak of. Who would I invite? I ramble off random important people in the Regime. Ginger takes down the list but makes no promises.
Better put some cake in my mouth before I say something I regret. I shove the sample carrot cake into my mouth and realize just how hungry I am after all that delicious, secret sex I’ve been having. The chocolate hazelnut cake and the lemon raspberry are the next cakes to go down the hatch, and I speak with my mouth full while finishing up the wedding plans as quick as I can.
I need to get back to Owen to let him know about the new wedding plans.
Chapter Sixteen
Minnie
I lick my lips, still feeling Owen’s mouth from this morning. I can’t wait for this to be over. We knew this had to be done. It’s the only way for me to truly be free.
I stand there as the wedding planner runs around doing everything that I requested for the event. I feel bad for her working so hard for something that’s about to be blown to hell. I don’t just mean figuratively, either.
“Come, come.” The planner rushes me out of the room and down a hall. We’re outside the event, and I pause when I see Ryan, the man I’m supposed to be marrying. Our eyes lock. The planner grabs me by the arm, but I break her hold and keep moving towards him.
I can tell from the set of his jaw he doesn’t want to be here any more than I do. When I reach him, he gives me a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.