Chapter One
"Give it up, Em, I'm not going to tell you."
I glare at Mark and pluck a leaf off of the branch above us, shredding it apart into strips of green. For a moment silence stretches between us, punctured by Jacob Brown playing the guitar at the nearest campfire. Tonight dozens of the other members of Amity are gathered around the campfires on the edge of the fields, talking and laughing and playing music. Mark and I wandered off about a half hour ago to sit on one of the trees that overlook the obsidian black lake. I've been trying to cajole him into revealing the results of his aptitude test, but he so far he's refused.
"Why not?" I complain.
Mark sighs and runs both hands through his hair, but still manages a teasing smile.
"It's against the rules and you know it."
I swing my leg over the edge of the branch so that I'm turned toward him. Ever since the aptitude test this morning he's been… different, I guess. Ever few seconds I catch him staring off into the darkness, his eyebrows furrowed like they always get when he's lost in thought. I've known Mark since we were toddlers playing in the shade of the trees while our parents worked in the fields, but it wasn't until a year ago that we fell in love. Well, Mark claims he's always known there was something special about me, but given his former tendency to put bugs in my food and steal my hair ribbons, I highly doubt that. Still, we've talked about staying in Amity, getting married after initiation and living as farmers. I'm sure he wouldn't change his mind, but I still have to ask,
"Is it against the rules for you to tell me what you're going to choose?"
He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes soft. I don't look away. He leans over and kisses my forehead, and when he pulls away there's a sadness in his eyes that scares me a little.
"I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, Em. Just-"
"Emma!" someone calls from a nearby bonfire. I recognize Mama's voice and sigh.
"I have to go," I tell Mark, reaching up to adjust the cloth headband that I always use to keep my reddish hair out of my eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "You could pretend you didn't hear."
"Mark Arbor," I scold, "It isn't kind to ignore someone who might need your help."
"Fine then," he says, "I guess I'll just have to give this to Kitty instead."
I pause and look at him.
"Give what to Kitty?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
One corner of his mouth curls upward in a mischievous smile. He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to me. The gold locket winks in the starlight. I gasp.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was Mom's," he says, looking down for a second before glancing back up, struggling to keep smiling. "I want you to have it."
Mark's mom died six months ago from a rare form of cancer, one of the three only kinds that the Erudite haven't eradicated yet. Mark is alright now, but it took him months to stop grieving.
"No," I say, "I can't take this. It must be so special to you."
"Which is exactly why I want you to have it," he insists, then adds in a mockingly high voice, "It isn't kind to refuse gifts. One should receive them gratefully and graciously."
I can't resist reaching out to run a finger over the image of a flower imprinted on its surface.
"It's beautiful," I say.
"Here," he says, "try it on."
I turn around and hold my hair out of the way while he clasps it around my neck.
"Perfect," he says. "You have to keep it now."
I roll my eyes but don't argue anymore.
"Fine, I will." Mama calls again and I squeeze his hand. "Thank you. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure, but if you're just going to abandon me like this, I'm going to go find Kitty."
"Don't you dare," I laugh, and hop out of the tree.
I run off across the field to find Mama, who talks me into helping her hand out mugs of hot chocolate to the other Amity gathered around the campfires. The sounds of their easy laughter and same old stories are as familiar as the fields that stretch out around us. I can't imagine ever leaving this faction, and the people who are more like my family than just my neighbors. Knowing Mark, I don't think he can either.
The Choosing Ceremony is about to begin. I stand in line with the other sixteen year olds about to make their choice, shivering in my thin red tank top and wrap-around skirt. The room is colder than I expected, and I wish I had brought a jacket. The Candor girl next to me is biting her fingernails, which are already worn down to the nailbed. I smile at her reassuringly.
"Don't be nervous," I say, "It'll be over before you know it."
"Sure," she says, and looks away.
I shrug and lean over to try to catch Mark's eye. He is further down in the line and doesn't look my way. He's focusing on the five metal bowls in the center of the room, his jaw flexed. Worry races through me but I push it down. What do I have to worry about?
This year it's Candor's turn to run the Choosing Ceremony, and their leader, Jack Kang, stands in front of us, in between the line of soon-to-be initiates and the five bowls. He tells the story of how the factions came to be and outlines the importance of each one, which I've heard a hundred times. Instead of paying attention I eye the knife awaiting us. The blade looks cruelly sharp. Of course we can't just announce our choice instead of cutting ourselves open.
Kang finishes his speech and the first girl steps up, an Erudite girl who chooses to remain in her faction. She joins the rows of clapping Erudite in their section, and the next boy follows. Each new initiate only takes about a minute to choose, but my legs are aching by the time that my turn arrives. I walk to the front of the room, determined not to step on my long skirt, and pick up the knife. I grit my teeth before drawing its edge across my palm. Dark blood wells up from the shallow cut. The entire room watches as I hold my hand over the Amity earth, and my blood stains the dirt. They cheer and clap as I take my seat among them beside Olivia, a friend of mine who has already chosen to stay as well. We share a smile before turning to watch the rest of the ceremony.
Ten minutes later, Mark walk up to the front. Right away I can tell something is wrong. He shuffles across the room, his shoulder hunched. His normally teasing eyes are as solemn as if he's attending a funeral. My stomach clenches with nerves. He takes his place behind the row of bowls. The knife leaves a long, thin line of red across his palm. He looks up at me before the blood falls. My breath catches in my throat. His eyes look almost luminescent in the bright lighting, and I can read the message inside them: I'm sorry. I squeeze the locket in one hand until the raised design imprints itself in my palm, watching his hand hover over the bowl of earth. At the last second, he jerks to the right. His blood falls on pulsing Dauntless coals. I freeze, unable to believe what I'm seeing. Time seems to slow down and sounds fade away as I watch him set the knife down and walk across the floor past me in the Amity section, past the rows of Abnegation with their somber expressions and grey clothes, and stop in front of the rows of erupting Dauntless. A man with a thick silver ring in his nose claps him on the back and motions toward an empty seat. No, I want to scream. No!
Mark sits down and the world snaps back into focus. I am aware of the eyes of the rest of Amity on me, bursting with questions. Everyone in Amity knew that Mark and I wanted to get married after initiation. Now they all just watched him leave. I bite my lip until it stings, ordering myself to stay calm, to save the confusion and fear and tears for later. The urge to run presses in on me, but I refuse to show how hurt I am. I sit with my back straight and a careless Amity smile pasted on my face, refusing to look at Mark or the Dauntless.
All I can think is that there has to be an explanation. There has to be.