re·sur·gent
rəˈsərjənt/
adjective
increasing or reviving after a period of little activity, popularity, or occurrence.
"resurgent nationalism"
I'm glad my mother is dead.
I used to cry whenever I thought of her, and how she were going to miss my Choosing ceremony. I was angry at the world – and at the Erudite doctors – for taking her away from me. But now there's nothing holding me back.
After she died, I was alone. Both of my brothers had transferred out of Amity. Larch left nine years prior, and Linden five years after that. I had vague memories of Larch; I remember him picking me up and tripping down the stairs with me, earning me the scar on my cheek. My memories of Linden were slightly more vivid, him being just five years older than me, rather than ten.
My mother was widowed twice. First by Larch and Linden's father, and then my own. Their untimely deaths made my family a source of pity among the Amity, and having two faction transfers for brothers, followed by yet another family death, has left me a rather infamous teenager. When my mother was alive she told me, 'you wouldn't care so much what others thought of you, if you realized how seldom that they do.' But I've noticed too many conversations halt as soon as I enter the room.
Faction before blood. It's been driven into my skull since the day I was born, by no one more than my mother. I think she wanted the three of us to leave. I think she hated Amity. She got angry too often. All four of us – and supposedly our fathers as well – had firey tempers that don't fair well in a faction that values meekness and kindness.
Until, of course, you find a black sheep. Like the orphaned fourteen year old, who'd gone from a family of five to a single household in the course of a few years. There are too many unanswered questions around each member of my family. As each one left, a little more weight was put on the rest of us. By the time my mother died, I carried every single question that has ever surrounded my family. Half of them I don't even know the answers to. People seem to think I do, but no one told me anything, and now there's no one left.
There are three orphans in Amity. Two twin toddlers, a little boy and a little girl, and me.
They had lived with Rowan almost a year before I joined the "family." I've never been able to tell if she took me in out of the kindness of her heart, or because she needed the help with the twins. She was in her early sixties; not an easy time to take on babies.
She told me to walk home after my aptitude test to think. It was almost five miles, but I listened anyway. I walked into the house as she was dashing out, saying there was an evening meeting she had to attend. Neither of us spoke of the test; we weren't supposed to. That night I put the twins to bed, ate a cold meal I didn't bother heating up, and was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when she walked in.
"What did the aptitude test tell you?" she demanded. Rowan wasn't one for small talk or meaningless filler. I had a theory she was Candor to Amity transfer.
"They said we weren't supposed to talk about it."
"They said not to talk to your parents."
Ouch. "Dauntless."
Rowan was almost six feet tall, told an Amity leader to bite her, and called me "girl." For the first time since my mother's funeral, she pulled me into a hug and said, "Don't worry about me and the twins. You do what you gotta do, and we'll be fine."
My father died. My mother died. People talk to me like my brothers died, but they didn't. All they did was transfer out of Amity. And, it so happens, they both chose the same faction. Both of my brothers cut their hand in front of every sixteen year old in the city and watch their blood fizzle on burning coals.
When Larch Lawrence transferred to Dauntless, it was a scandal.
When Linden Lawrence transferred to Dauntless, it was almost expected.
When Laurel Lawrence transfers to Dauntless, it will be a relief.
I'm ready to leave this damn faction. I didn't need an aptitude test to tell me that. But it was a relief when it told me what I'd known all along; like my brothers, I belonged in Dauntless.
My only comfort the last two years in Amity was the thought of transferring to my brothers' faction and finding them. And, as an added bonus, getting the hell out of this one. And now it was finally time to leave.
I didn't know who was calling names; some guy from Abnegation, I think. It was going to take a while to get to the Ls. Rowan held my hand beside me. She told me to study the Dauntless, and act like them.
I jumped out of my seat in nervous anxiety when he said my name. Rowan squeezed my hand before I let go, and told me act tough. I pushed back my shoulders, lifted my chin and tried not to walk too fast. I didn't look back at Rowan. She told me not to.
The Dauntless didn't hesitate to take the blade to their hand. I didn't either. This knife, these coals and this moment had been my one comforting thought since my mother died. I was getting out.
I looked at my faction in bitter poetic justice.
My blood sizzled over the coals.
The Dauntless cheered and the sound was music to my ears. I never had people cheer for me before. I took the bandage from the man, muttering a habitual thank you and walking towards my new faction, who welcomed me literally with open arms.
I loved it. I loved the energy. I love how I was engulfed in a sea of black joy immediately. I sat down next to a Dauntless born sixteen year old, the last one before me to choose Dauntless.
"I knew you weren't going to choose Amity. I knew it as soon as I looked at you."
I smiled, glancing around as she turned to look at the next sixteen year old called. My eyes stopped on two Dauntless leaning against the wall nearby, facing us. After my last few years in Amity, I know what it looks like when someone is talking about you. I suppose that's to be expected; Amity and Dauntless don't tend to transfer amongst each other often. Finally, a girl with short hair rolled herself off the wall and started walking over to me. She sat down in the empty seat on my other side, and grabbed my upper arm.
"Amity to Dauntless?"
"That's right."
Her hand tightened around my arm. She seemed to be lost in thought. "When we get out of here, there are going to be people jumping on the trains. Then there's going to be me and a few others. Stick with me."
At this point, everyone was staring at me and the girl with the tattoos on her collarbone. I debated whether or not I was getting hazed, staying silent until a boy behind me hissed to say okay. I nodded my head wordlessly.
At the time, I assumed they were making the faction transfers walk back to the compound. But most of the transfers got on the train, like everyone else. When the train left, nine of us were left. Myself, a Candor transfer, six Dauntless born initiates and the girl with the tattoos; I wasn't sure what happened to her partner.
We walked for fifteen minutes before anyone spoke. Everyone seemed to know what was going on but me and the Candor. They seemed excited; ecstatic, actually.
We were walking through a part of the city with no streetlights; it was abandoned for all accounts. The buildings were dilapidated and crumbling, and with the poor night light I kept tripping over broken up rubble. I barely saw the van when we stopped in front of it, but when he switched the light on inside I could see her partner in the driver's seat. The night air was cool, and I was almost shivering in my orange shorts and tee shirt.
"You wanted to join the Corps, you chose to sign up for this," the tattooed girl said. "I'm Tris, by the way," she directed the last comment to me and the Candor; I assumed the initiates already knew her.
Tris opened up the back doors of the trunk, while her partner got out and walked around. Inside there was a single light overhead, illuminated a row of backpacks on one side and a row of clothes on the other. The two started handing clothes to the Dauntless born. The boys and a few of the girls stripped down in front of us, but one of the girls ducked to the other side of the an for more privacy. When Tris handed me and Candor a pile of neatly folded clothes, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her there with me. She seemed as nervous as I felt.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm Allie."
"Laurel," I responded, pulling apart the attire Tris handed to me. It was nothing but black tube socks, black leggings and a black tank top. "Any idea what's going on?"
"Nope."
We finished changing and walked back around the van. This time, we were handed boots, cargo pants, a tee shirt and a zip up jacket, all black. I pulled them on, thankful for the warmth. The sun had completely set, taking the last of the heat with it.
The last thing handed to us was a backpack bigger than the twins. I wanted to look inside, but no one else had pulled theirs open. I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot of follow the leader.
"Eyes," called the partner.
"Post," the Dauntless born repeated back, loud and firm. I glanced at Allie.
Seeing us trade confused glanced, the extremely tall boy behind us leaned down to whisper in our ears. "When some says eyes, you say post and your eyes snap to the speaker. It's a way of getting everyone's attention."
"Efficient," I murmured.
"Day one of Commando training begins at age fourteen. You seven are two years behind your peers. To have been selected this late means you have shown extreme aptitude for this elite position. Dauntless born, you signed up for this. Transfers, you're here because Tris saw something in you that made her think you're worth two years of training."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Any one of you could be cut at any moment," he continued. "We have seven initiates here. Statistically, three of you will complete the next two years of training and be able to call yourself a Commando."
"Commandos are special op soldiers," Tris said, looking at Allie and I. "The tasks you'll be asked to carry out are…unorthodox."
"Unconventional," the partner amended.
Allie and I looked at each other, trading confused glances.
"Just do it. You two can turn back later," said Tris.
Her partner took over once more. "The rest of you, you know what you're getting yourselves into. You don't stop until I say stop, understood?"
"Yes, sir," the five murmured.
"Tonight, we're marching back to camp."
I feel like the first chapter is like the first date. Especially because I'm awkward as hell at the end of both.
Hope you had a nice time, can't wait to see you again
(see it just sounds awkward)
-Medina