Notes

CHAPTER THREE



I WAKE TO sweaty palms and a pang of guilt in my chest. I am
lying in the chair in the mirrored room. When I tilt my head
back, I see Tori behind me. She pinches her lips together and
removes electrodes from our heads. I wait for her to say
something about the test, that it's over, or that I did well,
although how could I do poorly on a test like this? But she says
nothing, just pulls the wires from my forehead.

I sit forward and wipe my palms off on my slacks. I had to have
done something wrong, even if it only happened in my mind. Is
that strange look on Toris face because she doesn't know how to
tell me what a terrible person I am? I wish she would just come
out with it.

That, she says, was perplexing. Excuse me, Ill be right back.

Perplexing?

I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I wish I felt like crying, because the tears might bring me a sense of
release, but I don't. How can you fail a test you aren't allowed to
prepare for?

As the moments pass, I get more nervous. I have to wipe off my
hands every few seconds as the sweat collects, or maybe I just do
it because it helps me feel calmer. What if they tell me that Im
not cut out for any faction? I would have to live on the streets,
with the factionless. I cant do that. To live factionless is not
just to live in poverty and discomfort; it is to live divorced
from society, separated from the most important thing in life:
community.

My mother told me once that we can't survive alone, but even if we
could, we wouldn't want to. Without a faction, we have no purpose
and no reason to live.

I shake my head. I can't think like this. I have to stay calm.

Finally the door opens, and Tori walks back in. I grip the arms
of the chair.

Sorry to worry you, Tori says. She stands by my feet with her
hands in her pockets. She looks tense and pale.

Beatrice, your results were inconclusive, she says. Typically,
each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the
factions, but in your case, only two have been ruled out.

I stare at her. Two? I ask. My throat is so tight its hard to
talk.

If you had shown an automatic distaste for the knife and selected
the cheese, the simulation would have led you to a different
scenario that confirmed your aptitude for Amity. That didn't
happen, which is why Amity is out. Tori scratches the back of her
neck. Normally, the simulation progresses in a linear fashion,
isolating one faction by ruling out the rest. The choices you
made didn't even allow Candor, the next possibility, to be ruled
out, so I had to alter the simulation to put you on the bus. And
there your insistence upon dishonesty ruled out Candor. She half
smiles. Don't worry about that. Only the Candor tell the truth in
that one.

One of the knots in my chest loosens. Maybe I'm not an awful
person.

I suppose thats not entirely true. People who tell the truth are
the Candor and the Abnegation, she says. Which gives us a problem.

My mouth falls open.

On the one hand, you threw yourself on the dog rather than let it
attack the little girl, which is an Abnegation-oriented
response, but on the other, when the man told you that the truth
would save him, you still refused to tell it. Not an Abnegation-oriented response. She sighs. Not running from the dog
suggests Dauntless, but so does taking the knife, which you didn't
do.

She clears her throat and continues. Your intelligent response to
the dog indicates strong alignment with the Erudite. I have no
idea what to make your indecision in stage one, but

Wait, I interrupt her. So you have no idea what my aptitude is?

Yes and no. My conclusion, she explains, is that you display
equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite. People who
get this kind of result are She looks over her shoulder like she
expects someone to appear behind her. They are called Divergent. She
says the last word so quietly that I almost don't hear it, and her
tense, worried look returns. She walks around the side of the
chair and leans in close to me.

Beatrice, she says, under no circumstances should you share that
information with anyone. This is very important.

We aren't supposed to share our results. I nod. I know that.

No. Tori kneels next to the chair now and places her arms on the
armrest. Our faces are inches apart. This is different. I dont
mean you shouldnt share them now; I mean you should never share
them with anyone, ever, no matter what happens. Divergence is
extremely dangerous. You understand?

I dont understandhow could inconclusive test results be
dangerous?but I still nod. I dont want to share my test results
with anyone anyway.

Okay. I peel my hands from the arms of the chair and stand. I
feel unsteady.

I suggest, Tori says, that you go home. You have a lot of
thinking to do, and waiting with the others may not benefit you.

I have to tell my brother where Im going.

Ill let him know.

I touch my forehead and stare at the floor as I walk out of the
room. I cant bear to look her in the eye. I cant bear to think
about the Choosing Ceremony tomorrow.

Its my choice now, no matter what the test says.

Abnegation. Dauntless. Erudite.

Divergent.








I decide not to take the bus. If I get home early, my father will
notice when he checks the house log at the end of the day, and
Ill have to explain what happened. Instead I walk. Ill have to
intercept Caleb before he mentions anything to our parents, but
Caleb can keep a secret.

I walk in the middle of the road. The buses tend to hug the curb,
so its safer here. Sometimes, on the streets near my house, I can
see places where the yellow lines used to be. We have no use for
them now that there are so few cars. We dont need stoplights,
either, but in some places they dangle precariously over the road
like they might crash down any minute.

Renovation moves slowly through the city, which is a patchwork of
new, clean buildings and old, crumbling ones. Most of the new
buildings are next to the marsh, which used to be a lake a long
time ago. The Abnegation volunteer agency my mother works for is
responsible for most of those renovations.

When I look at the Abnegation lifestyle as an outsider, I think
its beautiful. When I watch my family move in harmony; when we go
to dinner parties and everyone cleans together afterward without
having to be asked; when I see Caleb help strangers carry their
groceries, I fall in love with this life all over again. Its only
when I try to live it myself that I have trouble. It never feels
genuine.


But choosing a different faction means I forsake my family.
Permanently.

Just past the Abnegation sector of the city is the stretch of
building skeletons and broken sidewalks that I now walk through.
There are places where the road has completely collapsed,
revealing sewer systems and empty subways that I have to be
careful to avoid, and places that stink so powerfully of sewage
and trash that I have to plug my nose.

This is where the factionless live. Because they failed to
complete initiation into whatever faction they chose, they live
in poverty, doing the work no one else wants to do. They are
janitors and construction workers and garbage collectors; they
make fabric and operate trains and drive buses. In return for
their work they get food and clothing, but, as my mother says,
not enough of either.

I see a factionless man standing on the corner up ahead. He wears
ragged brown clothing and skin sags from his jaw. He stares at
me, and I stare back at him, unable to look away.

Excuse me, he says. His voice is raspy. Do you have something I
can eat?

I feel a lump in my throat. A stern voice in my head says, Duck
your head and keep walking.


No. I shake my head. I should not be afraid of this man. He needs
help and I am supposed to help him.

Umyes, I say. I reach into my bag. My father tells me to keep
food in my bag at all times for exactly this reason. I offer the
man a small bag of dried apple slices.

He reaches for them, but instead of taking the bag, his hand
closes around my wrist. He smiles at me. He has a gap between his
front teeth.

My, dont you have pretty eyes, he says. Its a shame the rest of
you is so plain.

My heart pounds. I tug my hand back, but his grip tightens. I
smell something acrid and unpleasant on his breath.

You look a little young to be walking around by yourself, dear,
he says.

I stop tugging, and stand up straighter. I know I look young; I
dont need to be reminded. Im older than I look, I retort. Im
sixteen.

His lips spread wide, revealing a gray molar with a dark pit in
the side. I cant tell if hes smiling or grimacing. Then isnt
today a special day for you? The day before you choose?


No. I shake my head. I should not be afraid of this man. He needs
help and I am supposed to help him.

Umyes, I say. I reach into my bag. My father tells me to keep
food in my bag at all times for exactly this reason. I offer the
man a small bag of dried apple slices.

He reaches for them, but instead of taking the bag, his hand
closes around my wrist. He smiles at me. He has a gap between his
front teeth.

My, dont you have pretty eyes, he says. Its a shame the rest of
you is so plain.

My heart pounds. I tug my hand back, but his grip tightens. I
smell something acrid and unpleasant on his breath.

You look a little young to be walking around by yourself, dear,
he says.

I stop tugging, and stand up straighter. I know I look young; I
dont need to be reminded. Im older than I look, I retort. Im
sixteen.

His lips spread wide, revealing a gray molar with a dark pit in
the side. I cant tell if hes smiling or grimacing. Then isnt
today a special day for you? The day before you choose?

Let go of me, I say. I hear ringing in my ears. My voice sounds
clear and sternnot what I expected to hear. I feel like it doesnt
belong to me.

I am ready. I know what to do. I picture myself bringing my elbow
back and hitting him. I see the bag of apples flying away from
me. I hear my running footsteps. I am prepared to act.

But then he releases my wrist, takes the apples, and says, Choose
wisely, little girl.