"You what?" asks Kat as we leave. I make a pouty-face at her.
"I already told you! This is the sixth time!" I exclaim. "Just be quiet!"
She looks away. Then Martha asks, "Are you okay?"
I don't answer, but run ahead to the bus stop. I don't want to talk to anyone. I haven't ever heard of anyone to get five factions in their Aptitude test: ever. Not even in the history books at school. I feel like crying. I'm going to be chosen. I just know it.
I roll the thought around in my head: that I could die. I could be killed. I suddenly start to panic. Angus lays his hand over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. "Sh... it's OK. You won't be chosen, I promise. Shh... there are one hundred fifty other kids that take the test, probably a good fifty of them are Divergent, most with 2 or 3 scores. That's about 140 slips. It's OK. Shh your chance is so low."
I love how my brother can make me feel calm in any situation.
By the time we arrive at home, it's 5:09. Dinner should be ready in 11 minutes. It always is.
But when I don't see Mother in the kitchen, I seek her out in her bedroom. She is sitting on her chair and looking out the window.
"What about supper?" I ask, confused as to why she's not cooking.
She turns to me. "It's at seven, Daughter. Take some time to think about tomorrow. Are you-" she begins, but I burst into tears and flee, slamming my door closed behind me. The Abnegation never slam doors.