So, this is my first Divergent Fanfiction! I swore to myself I wouldn't push it this far, but gosh darn't that stupid movie gave me so much inspiration to write. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it. It is a Peter Hayes Fanfiction; yes, it really is. If you have a problem, take it somewhere else...or just don't go prying around these parts of town? Chances are though, you are here because you want to be. First things first, this will be (planning to be, more like) outstretched throughout all three books as I re-read all of them for memory's sake. I appreciate all critical (meaning without acerbity) reviews and any mistakes you have spotted. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you come to enjoy it!
Candor, the Faction of Honesty, the Faction of neutrality between good and evil, the Faction of smart mouths and the reading of body language. The Faction that lying is most utilized than claimed. Their symbolic colors of black and white provide a figurative "one or the other" code, but few could see through it. Brooklyn Minx, Candor teenager of only fourteen, might know a thing or two. Ever since school started long, long ago, ever since she met the first outsider: A girl of science from Amity, ever since she met her best friend who was practically a Dauntless at heart, ever since she met her faction, she knew Candor was not who she wanted to be.
Dauntless, the brave.
Abnegation, the selfless.
Amity, the peaceful.
Erudite, the intelligent.
That's what she wanted to be.
Before her brain could develop such stringent opinions about her family faction, it was her older sister who first recognized the faults of free speech. She always believed Candor were for those who wanted no excuse to be cruel, or for those who had a problem with what to say and when to say it. Although being a good three years apart from her sister, Brooklyn understood more and more as the kids started to get comfortable with their entitlement, claiming that her sweet conduct was only an act of duplicity against others.
"It's not an act," she would say with a bubble of frustration. But whenever she bottled up her anger, they would just dance around chanting that she let it out: how she really felt about them. No, she always told herself, I won't drop to my knees for them.
Sometimes you didn't have to play innocent to commit such a terrible crime, which took them a while to figure out. There was an abundant amount like her, in fact, they just masked this with an exaggeration of violence. In Candor, violence is not encouraged, but anger is connected with true feelings, therefore honesty. However, even in their small acts of rebellion they dared not do anything about it. And so, their masked feelings, deep down and hidden, had never been strong enough to surface.
Including Brooklyn's, regardless of the times she "joked" about transferring into another faction when the time came. Peter Hayes, who else if not him, was the central antagonist of all her "wild ideas", even if he did take it as a joke. Although always known for his jesting personality and playful attitude, he never obliged to turn the joke into something more, and Brooklyn did not want to force him. The first few times she tried, Peter threatened to tell her mother of the conspiracies, as he called it.
And he wasn't lying.
What was so horrid about faction transfer? Her sister switched, why not follow in her footsteps?
Peter would never understand, especially under the influence of being a leader. But they remained friends outside of school when he wasn't hanging around those dopey, rugged kids he called buddies. Oliver and Molly were misfits that belonged nowhere but behind somebody's back. Being lead was one thing, but taking direct orders was another. Peter was not like them, he was different, but controlling no less.
At least she still had Vanessa, a girl who played according to the rules just a little more than Peter, which wasn't saying much. If she wasn't labeled Candor, anybody could mistake her lack of common sense for bravery. But Vanessa was not interested in the dauntless fast life, and her true, considerate honesty was something to admire.
Her only real friends were trouble-making junkies that rebelled without the attention. If that's what real was, Brooklyn was grateful to have such friends. Maybe when Peter finally decided that Oliver and Molly were leading him in the wrong direction; and maybe when Vanessa ultimately figured out that stealing an extra spoon from the Candor food-drive kitchens wasn't doing much; maybe then she could find herself in them. And, maybe, they could find reason to do good. Honest good.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
A paper of bold jumbled words was placed in front of the dozy face of Brooklyn just as a stream of pictures began to replace the outside world. She wanted to growl and moan and toss the paper aside to get some well-deserved sleep in, but she knew too well this upcoming exam would mean too much for her. Not even fatigue was worth her attention.
The Purity War began as a battle for what? Why was the Faction System created?
The Choosing Ceremony was in two days. She knew a few people who would be participating. Quite a few had an interest in Dauntless, but they were all still unsure. It seemed they were even more confused than her, and she was only fourteen!
No! Study! She didn't need to worry about the Choosing Ceremony. Her time would come eventually. For now, history was everything that mattered. Especially when she turned fifteen and the Factions would be their learning priority.
Her sister had been a transfer just last year. You weren't supposed to talk about your results in whatever test they had to go through, she must have gotten Amity. Brooke wasn't too surprised, Amelia had a soft heart when it came to others. But she would sometimes come out with it, blurting whatever she felt. Nobody blamed her, not even Brooke; Growing up in Candor and all, Brooke sometimes wondered why she had never caught on. Stop it! This is not worth you're failure.
Amity seemed like the perfect home for her now that she thought about it. She could find somebody, work on the farm, raise two kids that would have freedom to transfer to any faction they desired. Live amongst her sister and visit their father every now and then, and her mother also, of course. She didn't need to know why the Factions were here - they've come this far, haven't they?
Just listen to yourself. It's disgusting.
Brooklyn remembered reading the subtitle of a black and white image of her father's newspaper. It was of a man, no more than that, who had been accused of many things, especially of his role in politics. Erudite seemed to have fun pinning out his problems and difficulties like there was no other past time for them. She did not want to become something like that. A game for the self-indulgent.
A calm image of her sister appeared in her mind. They shared many attributes, including their thick blond hair that was similar to untangling weeds, and a face that seemed to bring ashore new freckles every week, not to mention the fluorescence of their emerald eyes that hid all of their little secrets from Candor. Her sister was perfect in every way. Why couldn't Brooke be like her?
She left you!
Brooke begged to see her on Visiting Day. But to no avail, her mother avoided the question at all costs. Candor families were known to be a bit strict with their transferred children, especially with their unofficial, more-or-less neighborly peaceful faction. Their mother was far beyond that line, regardless of being a transfer herself.
Finally coming to a - most arguably - but compromising conclusion, Brooke set aside her study material and pushed her thoughts to the converging ceremony planned two days time. She wasn't going to be there this year, even if it was Candor's year of representation. It wasn't quite her turn yet, so the only thing that this ceremony benefited her in was an empty house for the next couple of days, giving her all the free time in the world.
I'll be unstoppable with all the studying I can do, she thought fiercely, grinning a small grin. No school, no Molly, no Oliver, no Truth-Be-Told self-righteous adversaries to bring her down. Just her, Peter, Vanessa, and maybe a couple tag-alongs.
"Ms. Minx!" snapped the only chalkboard of nails wandering around the room, hammering a belligerent wooden yard stick against the already cracked, rickety desk. Ms. Miller, the over-devoted teacher of history, eyed Brooke with an uncomfortable alert glare that smacked her back into a studious concentration. "Pay close attention and maybe this time you can justify the correct emendations of your fellow factions."
She leaned over Brooke's shoulder, squinting at the empty study guide. She knew what Ms. Miller was looking at. It was towards the bottom with the questions about the separate factions and their customs. Nothing was written quite yet, but her history teacher never missed a thing. Especially Brooke's mostly unnoticed reaction to the obvious downfalls of all the factions. "Dauntless is not in any way 'ruthless for the fun of it ', if that's what you plan to put down; nor has Candor's hate towards mendacity inflicted insolence onto our sincere habits," she continued as if she had read it from the blank printed paper herself. "I suggest you pull yourself together!"
Where she had tapped out those accurate thoughts, Brooke had no idea. It was almost amusing how trite her attitude could be sometimes. Sometimes it was easy to just sit by herself for a while and think that not everybody there wasn't as honest-crazy.
Brooke bowed her head in discomposure, wishing that she could do something, say something, just once before her time was up. The last two years had been like this all day everyday. She would say something before the day of her Choosing Ceremony.
No, you won't drop to your knees for them. For her especially.
As Ms. Miller waddled north of her desk to the front of the room, which consisted of a narrow white board and a cramped podium from which she read out of the book, the snickers began to drop one by one in with only the clicks of her heels padding the tile.
Brooke's head hung a quick left where Peter and Molly were still carrying on silently with a snort or two. Her eyes, a thickly green color amplified by the entrance of tears, stared pleadingly at him for only a moment, as he had caught her gaze. She knew he wouldn't give her any alleviating smiles of sympathy, it wouldn't agree with his reputation as the predacious Candor. To her surprise, he had not abandoned her stray glimpse, and instead flickered his own eyes towards the window behind him, cracking a hidden smile across the side of his cheek. She knew what he was referring to and nodded as well, averting her eyes away from the cloudy skies.
This was going to be a long day.
But it was worth it.