My city was young, only thirty-eight years old. It had been my grandfather's dream. He'd believed in a caged realm of beauty and refinery, a world set apart from the vulgarities of the masses.

The walls curved around the city in a wide circle, enclosing the two thousand Citizens. Within the smooth, stone confinement, the palace sat at the center of the city, declaring my family's power and strength through its sheer mass and size. The palatial garden bracketed the palace on all sides with acres of snowy fields and shoveled pathways. Marble fountains with carved birds and flowers held a steady stream of cool water. In the summertime, I would stretch out on the lawn and allow the prickly grass to tickle my face and arms as I dunked my feet into the fountain's water.

Beyond the garden were the ornate town houses of the nobility, thirty families divided into five separate boroughs, which comprised of six clans. They lived away from us, but still locked inside our small bubble of refined lies.

Past the nobility lived the shabbier quarters of the serving class. Stationed between the wall and the nobility, their cottages created the outermost ring of the city.

There were those who served the palace and those who served the city. Among the latter were cleaners, engineers, bankers, vendors, art conservators, and Madame Leia, the city's finest modiste.

Her shop was cozy and sophisticated, lined with cream walls, silken draperies, mannequins swathed in extravagant dresses with precious jewels, vivid beads, and delicate laces. Analiese stood atop a small platform. Madame Leia swooped around her like a bird, taking measurements and recording them into her little, black book. She lifted her wire-framed glasses to her forehead, and her hooded eyes snapped.

"I've finished," she said.

As Analiese skated off the platform, I raised myself from my seat and took her place. I stood on the platform feeling awkward and tense as Madame Leia looped her yellow measuring tape around my waist and stretched it over the length of my arms. But the awkwardness didn't stem from the fitting. I was used to that.

I'd spent a lifetime being measured and fitted, so much so, I no longer noticed the strain of pulling my shoulders back and my chest up, sucking in my stomach to make it the flattest it could be, and elongating my figure to rediscover the poise and refinery that should have inherently been within me—the Filia Principia.

My tension sprung from my mother's commanding figure as she stalked from the scattered illustrations of various cuts and fabrics to the cushion where my coat lay. She stroked the soft fur with a considering look on her face.

"Celeste, how long have you had this coat?"

Madame Leia stepped back, and I tried to think. My mind was mush. All I could see was her hand on my coat. As I said, "A little over a year," I prayed she wouldn't dip her hands lower and feel the hard ridge of my journal.

"You're overdue for a new one. Leia, make Celeste a new coat and give her something to wear out." She flung the coat to the floor. "And make sure to throw that one away."

"No!" I almost screamed it. I took a deep breath to calm the tremors in my voice. "I need it."

Mother raised her brow. "Why?"

I floundered for an answer. "Because I..." I didn't have a reason.

"Because it was a present from Father on his last trip to East Pacifica." Analiese flipped through the pages of her magazine. Her eyes never left the bold prints. "And you know how angry he gets when we don't treasure his presents."

Mother pursed her lips. My father had never forgiven her negligence over the glass animals. I almost felt sorry for never admitting the fault was mine—well, Jack's.

She flicked her eyes between Analiese and me. "Leia," she said, "add a new coat to Celeste's order. That will be all."

I tried catching Analiese's gaze, but she was engrossed in her magazine. Madame Leia returned to her measurements, and my eyes drifted toward the window.

The nobility were noticeably absent from the streets. Stuffed in sleek cars, they cruised along the smooth roads, politely halting and advancing at each intersection.

The wide boulevards were filled with the hunched figures of the upper serving class—the bankers, engineers, doctors, Madame Leia. They were busy people, bustling from lane to lane, stamping impatiently at the stop lights, shoving bites of breakfast into their mouths and licking their fingers.

Cookie wouldn't have been amongst them. People like her skulked in the recess of the city, traveling through the unpaved backwoods where no one could see them. She was part of the lower serving class, those who served the palace. Her cooking was better than anyone's, including Mr. Vernon, who owned multiple shops of various cuisine dotting the city. But because she worked for the palace, her efforts were met with derision and his with praise.

But I didn't want to think about her, so I rubbed my shoulders and asked, "How much longer?"

"I need more measurements to make your coat." She smiled at me. "You've grown since I last saw you."

"We know," Mother said from behind, "but I've never perceived height to be an attractive trait in females."

Madame Leia subsided, and my cheeks flamed, but I didn't want to look down and show my mother that she'd bested me. I didn't want her to know I cared, so I stared out the window, lifting my chin up, trying to rediscover my poise and refinery.

I cast my eyes far into the distance. Suddenly, West Pacifica didn't seem so far away. Miles away from home and everything I thought I knew didn't seem so preposterous. It felt perfect.

A sense of finality overcame me. I decided to marry Kassel Bauer and to be content. I closed my eyes and made my promise.

When I opened them, Madame Leia was lowering her measuring tape, and the crowded boulevards had cleared to a slow trickle of bodies as morning rush hour ebbed and they settled into their shops.

A young man strolled down the streets with a package in his hands. His slow amble was a stark contrast against the hurried figures pushing past him, but he never increased his pace. I leaned closer into the glass, breathing onto the one-way mirror. I recognized his face. I peered closer and almost fell. Madame Leia steadied me with a hand. The young man was gone, but it didn't matter. I remembered his name—Nathaniel.