Thank you so much to Bamberlee for editing!

Please read these notes before the chapter ;)

1) I had originally said I was done after The Encounter, but Classybird made an interest comment about Eric choosing Amity and I took this as a challenge to see if I could make it work. I sent Amber the first chapter to see if it seemed plausible, and here we are. This will probably be the last fanfic story, unless Amber agrees to The Bachelor lol.

2)Obviously, it would be a stretch for Eric to pick Amity. If you are reading only to tell me this, please skip on to another story before commenting how he would never choose anywhere but Dauntless. I have worked to make his time in Amity legit, and I think it's a fun read.

3)There are minor changes to their ages in this story: Eric is 19 and Everly is 18. Their age gap in the other story would have Eric meeting Everly when she was 12, so I changed it for this story only. They are going through the Amity initiation together. Much like in The Encounter, I took a few liberties in regards to the choosing ceremony and initiation.

4)My goal is to update this story on Sundays :)

5)Yes, Eva's epilogue will still be updated. I've been working to finish it over the past few weeks in between ordering things on Amazon.

6) Eric is written to be 19, and he is not the leader of Dauntless. He'll get there, but keep this in mind before comparing him to the OG Eric in The Training.

7)Most importantly: Thank you so much for reading! My plans are for this to be a shorter story, but we'll see how it goes. Have a lovely weekend!

"So, we're in agreement?"

My aunt sits across from me, eating her salad as carefully as she can. Each bite is slow and precise, only paused to drink a sip of her wine. The glass is full, fuller than she would normally deem acceptable, but tonight, she's fine with it.

The waitstaff is doing their best to keep her pacified and she lets them.

"Eric?"

Jeanine looks at me, along with Blythe, and both share an identically icy gaze. It's easy to tell they're related; both have blonde hair, both are tall and thin, and both are as cold as the ice water someone has brought me. I pay no attention as the girl refills the glass for me; she's young, having completed the Erudite initiation not more than a few years ago, and just as silent as me.

Jeanine throws her a quick, sharp glance of dismissal. "Thank you. Will you fetch me a napkin?"

The girl's nod is immediate. Her initiation didn't land her the job of her dreams here. Most in Erudite are hopeful they'll wind up working in a position of importance. My own parents have accomplished such a feat and like to remind me it is expected of me to follow in their footsteps. My father, though I rarely think of him as such, works as a neurosurgeon. Rylan likes to point out that my father is a genius, a literal brain surgeon, and then he gleefully points out his own father works in an office and could only dream of holding such a prestigious career.

My mother, though I never thought of her in any maternal way, is a pain in the ass. Her psychology degree leads her to believe she knows better than anyone else, and her favorite past time is to dig deep into the psyche of whoever she's talking to. I'm often the subject of her scathing patient investigations; last week, my attitude over her general presence wasn't acceptable, and whatever deep-seated reason she threw at me sounded personal.

It's not just that I don't like her, it's that I loathe both of them.

Even now, as I sit at a table made of wood so expensive no one is ever allowed to eat in here –except for special occasions –I can't stand her. We're only eating in the dining room because her sister is here, and they're both waiting for Daniel to arrive. He's late, as per usual, and his phone call came not from him, but from his assistant.

Camille had called twenty minutes ago to say he'd left straight from surgery, and Jeanine had rolled her eyes when Blythe snippily informed Camille this was unacceptable.

I couldn't find a single speck of appreciation for Camille's response, not even when it made Blythe's expression darken.

"What?" I toy with my fork, stabbing the chicken with far more force than necessary. My mother tenses when the fork clanks against the plate, and she throws me a dirty look when I shrug indifferently. "What are we in agreement of? I wasn't listening."

I smirk as they exchange a frustrated glare, and I lean back in my chair when the front door opens. The sounds of my father's footsteps are heavy; they match his hurried apology as he throws his briefcase on the entryway table no one is supposed to put anything on and he gives the same girl who served us water his coat. He greets her politely, knowing Blythe loves to point out he is far too encouraging to the waitstaff, and he likes to make up for her lack of civility.

The girl, an assistant to one of Erudite's head chefs, is barely worth my mother's common decency.

If she had any.

"Sorry I'm late! My last surgery was far more complicated than I had planned. I came as soon as I could turn things over to Greg." Daniel takes the seat next to me, accepting the plate and silverware from another random server. "Thank you. Jeanine, how are you? Good?"

"Are you always this late? Blythe said this is the third time this week." Jeanine looks up from choosing her next bite of lettuce, and her eyes stay on Daniel. "You look well, Daniel. I'm fine. Busy, but I made time to come by tonight."

"Wonderful. It's always…good to see you. Hello, Blythe," he nods at her, then at me, and Blythe throws him the tightest, most impatient smile ever. "Eric."

Her smile lessens at my name and her look at me is disapproving. It's the same one she gives me when she thinks I'm going to be late for school, and she knows the help is still around to witness her parenting skills.

"Daniel."

Her greeting is clipped; she returns her attention to me, stabbing her carrots so hard the plate should break and she snaps. "Eric, knock it off. Answer your aunt. You know why she's here."

"Yeah, I know." I answer indifferently, and I can't bring myself to feel enthused about any of this. I stab my own food forcefully just to piss her off, and her eyes narrow. "I'm supposed to go to Dauntless and spy on them for her."

"Not spy," Jeanine quips. "Infiltrate. I need someone there I can trust. Right now, I have no one. You know this is a fantastic opportunity for you."

"Sure," I look above her, at the wallpaper, and I pretend I can't see her looking at Blythe. "Doing your dirty work sounds like a great time."

"Eric!" Blythe is on the immediate defense, and her eyes flash. "We've been talking about this for months. It's an honor your aunt has even thought of you."

"I thought…" Daniel pauses, and he tries not to look at me. "I thought we agreed Eric should stay in Erudite. The offer is very generous, but he's better suited here. Dauntless has an increasingly terrible reputation. I just saw one of their leaders last week, the one named Max. He'd been attacked in one of the riots. Head was split right open. Erudite is much safer and there's far more opportunity here. Greg's brother is looking for an assistant. Once Eric finishes initiation here, Allan will take him on."

"That's a lovely offer, but we've been working on this for some time," Jeanine reminds him, as though he'd somehow forgotten she'd been showing up weekly to plant the seeds of this idea. At first, it had sounded tempting. As time went on, I realized I would be doing her literal dirty work and getting zero credit for it. "The general agreement is Eric will choose Dauntless. He's fit, he's smart. It should be no issue for him to rank highly. Once he's moved into a leadership role there, we reconnect. I have insight to Dauntless, he has power. He'll be appointed as one of their youngest leaders yet."

"Erudite is fine. How can you ensure he'll be made a leader? He'll be up against the Dauntless born. Why do you need someone in the Dauntless faction anyway? What good will that do?" Daniel counters quickly, but carefully. He knows arguing with my aunt often ends in her or Blythe storming out. Each of the times she's come over, her stare has always stayed on him, like she likes him more than his own wife, but nevertheless, heavy with disdain over his objections.

None of them have asked me what faction I'd like to choose.

My aptitude test had been a week ago. I was given a moment as the woman typed my name in, then she blandly informed me my result was Erudite. Her hesitation gave me pause, but I dismissed it. I could easily fit in wherever I wanted. The idea of picking Dauntless doesn't scare me. I can fight, something I'd quickly learned when my temper became too quick to control, and I'm not afraid of much. I could stay in Erudite. I'd rather choose Abnegation than work with anyone who is friends with my father, but it is unlikely I'd wind up working for a chef or in some dull office building. If anything, I'd end up in a lab, calculating and controlling the new serums we are creating.

The real burn here is no one actually gives a shit where I want to live or what I want to do, only how it benefits them.

"I'm trying to fix things, Daniel. I need to stay a step ahead," Jeanine snipes, and her restraint is tested when Daniel shakes his head. "I can guarantee Eric will be promoted to leader within days of completing the initiation. The two main leaders, Max and Tori, will be given my suggestions once initiation is under way. If they'd like to keep their funding and jurisdiction over the factions, then they'll listen."

"Jeanine…"

Daniel's pause is Blythe's opportunity.

"Daniel, it's already been agreed. Staying here will do him no good. He doesn't need to spend his life in the hospital or working downtown. The labs are…there's nothing admirable about working there. But being the leader of Dauntless, that looks good. It's an acceptable job," Blythe slams her fork down harder than she means to, and she looks surprised at herself.

Her composure is quick.

"It's what needs to happen. There's no other way around it. Eric will pick Dauntless and in a few months, he'll become one of their leaders. I don't see how you can argue this."

I can tell her frustration is reaching a boiling point. Daniel is pissing her off with his reluctance to force this plan upon me in favor of his own, and I have yet to agree to anything. I'd listened every time Jeanine spoke, which was weekly, but I'd never agreed to shit.

Choosing Dauntless, while appealing, meant I'd never be rid of any of them. Once I chose the faction and went through initiation, I'd be at the mercy of whatever Jeanine wanted, with the added pressure from Blythe. Jeanine's most current plan is interesting, but not something I'm invested in: the hunting of Divergents. I like the idea of finding these people who are trying to ruin the factions, but her reasoning is weak, even to me. She believes they don't belong because of their varying percentages and they should be handled by any means necessary. Nothing more, nothing less.

The reason she needs my help is because Dauntless isn't handing this information over willingly. They would do what she asked, within reason, but Divergents aren't high on their priority list right now. My job would be to persuade them to start thinking otherwise.

"Blythe, don't worry. This isn't a reflection of you. Eric won't let you down. There's no way he wants to wind up serving dinner to a family down the street, is there? I think Eric is aware of what will happen if he doesn't pick Dauntless," Jeanine looks at me, along with Daniel and Blythe, and her threat doesn't go unnoticed.

Daniel clears his throat, and he waits for Blythe to inform her sister nothing will happen if I don't pick Dauntless.

She doesn't.

In the background, the girl from earlier appears from our kitchen to bring out dessert. It's far too early, but they're on a strict schedule. Her shoes clack over the marble flooring, a white so bright it hurts your eyes, and she keeps her head bowed down. There's no doubt she heard Jeanine's insult; even assisting the most sought-after chef in Erudite wasn't good enough or an acceptable career. She drops the cake off without saying a word and returns as the chef calls out her name. I must be the only one who hears his softly spoken praise, and he reassures her she's doing great.

"Eric, are you going to answer your aunt or not? This is getting ridiculous. We're running out of time. You know this isn't a suggestion," Blythe presses, and she's even less happy when I finally shrug.

I nod, only so they'll all go back to eating and leave me alone.

"I'm sorry about your aunt. You know she means well. I can promise you nothing will happen if you don't pick Dauntless."

Daniel stops by my room on his way to bed, and the weariness from this evening is all over his face. His glasses slip as he frowns, and he's still dressed from work. The royal blue shirt has stayed perfectly starched, and so have his slacks. The only evidence he's been at work is how tired he looks, and the ringing of his phone that started shortly after Jeanine refused to leave until I agreed to help her.

My answer of I'll think about it was not pleasing.

"It's fine," I answer sharply, and I step in the grand hallway of the second floor. The space is immense; my room is so far away from theirs that they would fail to notice if I threw a party while they were at home, and neither of them would ever dare check on me.

I'd learned to be independent early on, and I valued this fiercely.

"Just…pick Erudite. They'll both get over it. And hey, don't forget to get your hair cut before the choosing ceremony. I'm sure someone will want to take your picture," Daniel pauses, and I know what he's looking at. I'm nearly as tall as him, but much stronger.

Rylan and I chose weightlifting as our elective this year; Jeanine had put this idea in my head a year ago, and Rylan loved it. He felt like we needed to start getting ready, so I willingly agreed to work out with him, and it was a far better way to end my day than art class. We both walked home together, sometimes dipping out altogether if we'd had enough, and he loved to talk about the life we'd have once we left Erudite.

"Sure." I agree, but I stare at him unmoving. I try to dredge up an ounce of emotion for him; in his mind, this had to be some bonding moment. He'd come to find me to soothe Jeanine's hectic list of demands and now he was trying to get me to look my best. When I was younger, he'd take me with him to get my hair cut.

It had been years since he'd offered, and we both know the only reason I bother to get a haircut is I hate how it looks longer. Years of being forced to look a certain way had a lasting effect. I like things neat and orderly, including my appearance.

"I'm going to take a shower. If you want to talk before tomorrow, let me know. I'm coming from a meeting, but I'll be there," Daniel looks at me hopefully, and I throw him the least offensive eye roll I can.

Of course, he'd be there. Everyone was required to be there.

"Great."

I leave him standing in the hallway, next to a painted portrait of his father, and I can feel his frustration when I don't give him the answer he wants. He wants to hear me say I'll pick Erudite. It's the real reason he's up here and the only reason he's not already in bed.

Daniel Coulter is never home, is always late for dinner, and is generally so tired he often goes to bed without speaking a word to any of us. He lives in a world of his own, a soap opera of medical procedures and nurse centric gossip, and he likes it. He takes great pride in his work, and in turn, has minimal time for his family.

Blythe is the same.

She works constantly, stopping only to cater to her sister's every whim. Jeanine might be the leader of Erudite, but Blythe is a driving force behind her. For each patient she is given, she dives deeper into this world of divergence. God help the ones who are divergent and end up in her care. Their lives are never the same once they are sent to Jeanine, and Blythe is rewarded like she'd handed over the answer to the universe.

All of this resulted in me being on my own. I have no real relationship with either of them, and it's especially clear right now.

"Good night, Eric." Daniel calls out, and I keep walking even as he sighs.

It's ironic how similar they are, yet how they barely tolerate each other. Even more ironic is that tomorrow, neither will be very happy no matter what I do.

I think of this as I go to bed, slipping beneath thick sheets washed by a woman who knows more about me than my own parents, and I fall asleep before I can think about it for too long.

"Excuse me. Line up by last name. Your faction doesn't matter. We're going reverse alphabetical order, so we'll be starting with Z. Those of you who are confused, you should have a number on your paper with a group and your placement. You will not be taking your seats today. All choosing day participants will be walked out one at a time."

The man barking orders is from Erudite.

His blue suit is crisp, less formal than my jacket and pants, and his hair is slicked back. He's tall, a few years older than me, and nothing more than an overworked cog in the Erudite wheel. We host the choosing ceremony every year, and it's always an ordeal. All members who have turned eighteen in the last year pick their permanent faction in front of their parents and select members of their current faction. It's an honor to be invited, and a bigger honor to pick your new life.

I'd turned eighteen a day after the last initiation and this made me almost a year older than most of the members here to choose. The few milling around me are young looking, and all appear nervous. A girl from Candor skips past me, shrieking as she says hello to her friend. A boy my own age dressed in bland, grey tones shuffles by, keeping his gaze down and his frown fixed on his face. His hair has recently been cut as well, though probably by one of his parents, and it's far less perfect than mine.

I wait impatiently, growing annoyed at the disarray of members being shoved in every direction as they try to line everyone up. The line blurs in color, and the guy from earlier walks down, counting and tapping our shoulders to make sure everyone is here.

There are a few exceptions to Choosing Day, but they are rare. If someone is sick today, they can be excused from officially choosing, and they will later petition for an individual ceremony in front of a few leaders and Jeanine. If someone doesn't show up, they are assumed factionless. If they freeze or get stage fright, which is rumored to happen every so often, someone will slice their palm for them, and they usually wind up picking their home faction.

The agony of choosing is not in which faction you are pledging your life to but the idea of leaving your family behind. Most in front of me are sniffling, knowing this could be the last day they ever see their parents. Others, like myself, are impatient to get it over with.

I tower over most of them, looking out of place amongst the ones wishing they had more time to stay with their families.

"Hey, sorry, she goes here. Listen, don't panic. Just press gently, but firm enough to draw blood. You just need a drop. You'll be absolutely fine, I promise."

Someone bumps into me, pushed by the leader of Amity, and Johanna throws me an apologetic smile. I recognize her from a book in school discussing all the factions; she's been the leader of Amity for years, and her reputation of being kind is unwavering. Even now, she doesn't wait to see if I accept her apology, she just assumes I will.

A second later, a small girl is shoved in front of me, and then right back into me when the boy in front of her steps back. She hits my chest, and her panic is immediate.

"I'm sorry!" She whirls around as she trips, both over the long skirt of her dress and my shoes, and I catch her reflexively. When I can see her whole face, half hidden by long, black hair, she stares up at me without blinking.

She's pretty.

I notice this before I can stop myself. Her eyes are greener than anything I've ever seen, and her skin is tanner than mine. She looks far younger than everyone else, and her dress is a size too big. For a split second, I wonder if she's not eighteen. The choosing age is standard and strictly enforced, but every so often, someone tries to sneak through. There's always a stupid reason for it, and most of the time they are caught and sent home.

"I'm really sorry. I got lost trying to find where the C names are." She stares at me until her gaze shifts to my hand on her arm, and I let go immediately. "What's your last name? Does it start with a C?"

"It's Coulter. Why else would they bring you over here?" I respond flatly. "How old are you? Are you old enough to be here?"

"I'm eighteen," she answers quickly, and she bravely steps closer to me. There's little space anyway, but she doesn't seem to be aware of any sort of personal boundaries.

I would normally step forward and push her away, but I don't. I can't figure out why, not even when she chews on her lip.

"I actually turned eighteen today. They said I could wait if I want, but my parents thought it would be better for me to choose today. I took the aptitude test a few weeks ago."

"You don't look eighteen," I blink at her, wondering how her hair is so long. She's too small to pass for eighteen, and I wouldn't guess she was even allowed in the testing center. She comes up to the middle of my chest, and it's very clear she's never left Amity. We both turn in surprise when someone runs out of the line crying, and the man from earlier escorts them out of the building. There's a low murmur hinting they won't be back, and we're all told to move up a step. "So they're gone? Is that allowed?"

"I guess. Maybe they want to be factionless," she shrugs, and she offers me her hand. "I'm Everly."

I stare at her and her kind gesture, and I take her hand reluctantly. It's small and cold, and she holds on tightly, like she's been coached on how to greet someone.

"Eric."

My response is bored, but I'm not entirely annoyed by her. In Erudite, every girl looks the same. Their hair is always pulled back, tightly, or cut short enough it will stay neat. They are encouraged to keep it natural, less time for messing with it, and only a few keep it long. They all wear the same white blouses, blue skirts, and black shoes. Appearances are kept professional, clean, and rarely varied or are wild enough to draw attention.

Of course, once you held a good job, these rules relaxed. Blythe had her hair cut and colored routinely. Her own clothes are expensive, finely tailored, and vary depending on whose life she's ruining that day. Every so often, she wears a different shade of blue, or a blue dress, and the only thing more severe is her sneer. She thrives by looking like she came from Erudite. The official rules are to be presentable, but it's up to a personal interpretation.

Like Rylan.

Far down the line, waving at me furiously and making a face as someone pulls his hair, is my best friend.

I use the term loosely, but it's fitting. We'd met in kindergarten, where Rylan repeatedly said the word fuck, no matter what the teacher asked him, and his inability to sit still was frowned upon. He made me laugh, a rare occurrence, and I soon learned he'd keep any secret in the world that you asked of him. Desperate for someone to like him, he declared we were friends a few minutes after we met. As we got older, he didn't give a shit who my parents were, though he liked Daniel, and he loved to give Blythe a run for her points. My favorite memory of him was a dinner when he cheekily asked if she'd had work done on her face, and her horrified expression was enough for us to know she had.

A year ago, we'd both agreed to pick Dauntless.

Rylan had been waiting to leave since the day he learned we'd pick another faction, and I'd agreed to go with him.

"How old are you?" Everly cranes her head up to look at me, and she inspects my face like I'm lying. "Are you too old to be here?"

She smiles like she's hilarious, and I blink down at the tiny creature in front of me. She holds my attention for another second, until Rylan whistles, and the whole line quiets down as the man returns to tell us we're heading inside.

"I turned eighteen a day after the last choosing ceremony. So yes, I'm supposed to be here," I snap, and I loathe the idea of our birthday's being so close together. I imagine her own birthday was a bleak affair, and everyone in Amity probably didn't have enough points to celebrate. "Move. We're walking."

"Are you picking Erudite?"

She doesn't move.

She sticks with me, walking alongside rather than in front of me. Every so often, her hand brushes mine. The action makes my stomach tighten, and I dislike the feeling immensely. She eventually pulls her arms up and crosses them, still waiting for me to answer.

"Are you picking Amity?" I retort back instantly, not sure why she'd care. "Or are you picking Erudite?"

"Actually," she half whispers, and she steps closer to me. The urge to push her away loses out to the urge to stay close to her, and it's a good thing I do. She manages to miss a step entirely, and I catch her by the arm again, ignoring her gasped thanks. "I did get Amity on my test. But…have you ever thought about picking Dauntless?"

Her voice turns wistful, as though she isn't four feet tall and wearing a dress stitched together by forest creatures.

"I know I have to pick Amity, but I was just thinking how exciting it would be to pick somewhere else," Everly, clearly not mentally stable, watches as a few Dauntless soldiers march past us. They are heading inside, parents of a child in our line, and they are shockingly extreme looking.

The man cheers as they walk, and he waves a tattooed hand at someone in the front. His wife's hair is a bright shade of yellow, and their dark clothes are fitted and ripped in various places.

"I have," I answer without thinking, since she's the only one paying attention. "You really think you'd last there? You really think you should pick Dauntless?"

There's a sharp rush of jealousy in my words, and the mean tone doesn't go unnoticed. This tiny girl from Amity has the freedom to choose her faction and I do not. Even though someone is insisting she stay in Amity, she could pick wherever she wants and be fine.

Or mostly fine.

I try to imagine her in Dauntless, and I can't.

I can't even picture myself there, though Jeanine had sent me a message this morning, flatly telling me she appreciated my commitment to her.

"No," Everly shakes her head, and she looks disappointed when she looks at me. "You could. You're very…big."

I throw her a dirty look, but it goes unnoticed. She stares again, this time bumping into my side, and I exhale in annoyance as I push her away without knocking her over. "Are you dizzy? Or can you not walk in a straight line?"

"My mom and dad are right there. They both are hoping I pick Amity," Everly informs me like I care, and I follow her stare to two very Amity looking people. Her father's hair is longer but combed to lie neatly. His shirt is red, and his pants tan. Her mother's hair is long and braided out of the way, her dress is similar to Everly's, and they are both talking and smiling. They aren't at all impressive, but they appear happy.

It's a strange look considering Blythe and Daniel are a few seats in front of them. I watch Blythe sit down with all the practiced grace she possesses, and her spine is straight. She hisses something at Daniel, and he drops into the seat next to her looking irritated. They are less happy, and far more tense as the lights dim.

"Why do they care? Why do they want you to pick Amity?" I don't know why I'm even entertaining the girl in front of me, but I'm curious. I wait for her answer, scowling as she waves to her parents. She turns back to look at me, and I decide she'd never make it anywhere but Amity. "Are you going to pick Dauntless? You know they'll kill you, right? You have to fight your way to the top."

"I can fight," she lies brightly, but her smile is frustrated. "I have an older brother. He said he'd help me get there, but…"

"But what?" I'm pushed forward and this time, I bump into her.

"My parents need help. I have a lot of brothers and sisters. My dad runs the greenhouses and my mom runs the infirmary. I promised them I'd stay." Everly's eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I think she might bolt. "I was just thinking maybe I should do something for me. Maybe pick somewhere else. But they'd be upset."

"Yeah," I respond without thinking, and we both watch as the first girl goes forward. She pauses in front of the large display, weighing her options as her name is read. She's plain and unassuming, and a quick slice later, she picks Candor. "So what are you going to do?"

"Where are you picking?"

We move forward one step at a time, then come to a stop. A boy from Erudite is next, his last name Wilson or something, and he smugly chooses to stay in Erudite. His parents clap loudly, though I don't know either of them.

"Eric?"

"What are you doing?" I glance down in confusion when I feel her hand close on my arm but she's only balancing on the edge of a step. "You'll be fine. Didn't Johanna just tell you what to do?"

"Will you pick Erudite?" Everly is taller now, but not by much. Her fingers stay on me, and I let her hold on, only because it's so dark no one can see. "You should pick Dauntless. You'd do really good there. You look like you're from there."

In the crowd, I see Jeanine walk down the aisle to take a seat by Blythe. She glances at the line with a look of impatience, and I know what she's thinking: pretty soon, I will slice my palm over the coals neatly arranged over the Dauntless logo and she will have the in she's been looking for.

"Go." I push her ahead, and the next few are quick. Erudite, Erudite, Candor, Candor, a shocking transfer to Abnegation, and a single choice for Dauntless. The Dauntless faction roars its approval and Everly watches with wide eyes. By the time they reach the last names starting with C, a single person has transferred to Amity.

"Everly Carlen."

She freezes in front of me, and her grip tightens. I'd almost forgotten she was holding onto me, but it's noticeable when she lets go. She wavers for a second, then summons up enough courage to walk in front of the large bowls. She looks shorter than ever as she picks up the knife, and in a strange move, she looks back over at me.

Our eyes meet, and I nod, encouraging her to pick whatever her little heart desires, even though we both know she'd get the living daylights beat out of her in Dauntless.

She's smarter than I thought, because a second later, with her palm bleeding bright red, she chooses Amity.

Her parents are thrilled; they clap along with the Amity faction, and everyone is warm and welcoming. I watch them carefully, noticing someone is waiting for her at the end of the line, a man not much older than her, and he hugs her. He holds her tightly until she wiggles away, then he hands her something to press on her hand.

"Eric Coulter."

I nearly miss my name. I look up in surprise, having been fixated on the man helping Everly. He was quick to reach for her, and even quicker to make sure she is okay. She pauses by the large doors, still short and pretty, waiting to see where I go.

Along with everyone else.

I can feel the stares on me, Daniel and Blythe both looking intense as ever, and Jeanine, nodding encouragingly as I walk up. I'm handed the same knife Everly just used, heavy and cold and cleaned off, and the man from earlier tells me it'll hurt less if it's quick. I cut a precise slice Daniel would be proud of, the pain quick and hot, and I pause near the edge of the first bowl. The Abnegation logo glows, but I keep walking. I pass Candor, then Erudite. Daniel deflates when I get to Dauntless, and Jeanine leans forward, smiling in slick approval.

My destiny weeps from the palm of my hand.

I can see it now, my great rise to power in a faction of blood and war. I can see how quickly it will happen, how people will answer to me, and how they will fear me. For a quick second, an entire life flashes in front of my eyes; I see myself strolling in a dark uniform, and I see Everly, skipping through Amity while I bark at her to stop what she's doing and quit bumping into me. I see her look up, green eyes flashing with all the happiness in the world, but not quite.

Even in my daydream, neither of us are thrilled with our choices.

I look up as this imagined scenario fizzles away to see Everly staring. She's standing there, pressing her hand to stop the bleeding, and she's waiting with everyone else. Oddly enough, she seems to be the only one invested in seeing which faction I choose. She has no clue about my aunt or my father, no clue about Blythe or the invisible pressure for me to make sure my aunt has enough victims to experiment on. I reach out as Everly's eyes widen, filling with her own sorrow over someone else deciding her fate, and they widen even further when my blood soaks into the soil.

There is a pause, then an announcement that echoes in the quiet room.

"Amity."