Four

I make my way up to Max's office with Shauna and Zeke. "I still cannot believe you talked us into doing this. This has to be your worst idea yet," Zeke says as he punches me in the arm.
"I didn't say a word about it. You're the one who followed me up there," I say as I punch him back.
"You didn't need to! One look and I knew I would be a dead man if I didn't sign up for this."
"You two fight like an old married couple," Shauna says with a grin on her face. "Besides, it's not that bad."
"How would you know? What if I get a Stiff? What could they possibly have to talk about? Or even worse, a Nose? Uppity know-it-alls." Zeke makes a face like he just ate something sour.
Shauna rolls her eyes. "Oh please."

I laugh, but Zeke's wrong. This is a great idea. I think back to my childhood, and I remember wishing I had someone, anyone, to talk to. A part of me hopes that I get paired with someone like me, someone with, well, a need for companionship.

I tried to hide my enthusiasm at the mandatory sign up. Only ten volunteers were needed, but this is Dauntless, and this is the sort of pansycake thing that makes everyone roll their eyes and walk away. Max and Eric had already signed up, as it is mandatory that leaders participate. When only one other person, Piper, an older Amity transfer signed up, the group was threatened. I sighed and made a production, including giving Eric a look that would make most of the compound run in the other direction. He just sneered at me. I shot Zeke and Shauna looks afterwards, and they both rushed up after me.

Max's office door is open. "Here for your letters?" The three of us nod. He opens a folder and hands us each an envelope. "They arrive every Saturday morning. Have your replies to me no later than Tuesday morning. The courier comes at 10. This is also a list of topics that you aren't allowed to discuss," Max says as he hands us each a second piece of paper.
"How long is this supposed to last?" Zeke asks as he looks over the list. Max shoots him a look, and so do I.
"Right now it's slated for ten weeks. I suggest you take this seriously, Pedrad."
"Yes Sir," Zeke says, realizing he should have kept his mouth shut.
"Is that all then?" Max asks, dropping a not so subtle hint that it's time for us to get out. I clench my jaw as we leave his office. Max isn't exactly my favorite person, so I don't welcome any more than necessary interactions with him.

We get off the elevator on the thirteenth floor together, saying goodbye to Shauna as her apartment is the very first one. Zeke sighs as we approach his apartment.
"What?" I say, slightly annoyed at how childish he's being.
"Nothing. Do you think we could grab a drink tonight? I have something I want to run by you."
It's pretty unusual for Zeke to be this serious. "Yeah. What time?" I ask.
"I dunno. 7?"
"Sure. I'll meet you there."
"Thanks man." He leans in and gives me a hug, slapping me hard on the back. Something must really be bothering him. I continue on to my apartment, the last one on this floor.

I turn on the light in my dim apartment and grab some paper and a pencil and sit at my small table, eager to read my letter. I look at the envelope and see a small 4-4 written neatly on the front. I smile at the coincidence as I tear a side off and pull the letter out.

Dear 4-4,

My name is 6-1. I'm not too sure what to say, seeing as we have all sorts of rules to keep this all anonymous.

I will be graduating this year, obviously. I'm a good student, straight A's all around. I like school well enough, and sometimes I think it will be really awkward to not have to come here every day. Did you like school?

I think this program is odd, do you? I feel like I might say the wrong thing and get into trouble, even though nobody said anything to let on that there would be consequences. Do you have a list of appropriate topics too? I hope yours is longer than ours. I could tell you everything in almost one paragraph.

I think I'll end this now. I want to keep something for us to talk about next time. I hope you have a great day.

Sincerely,

6-1

It's short. A lot shorter than I expected. The handwriting is perfect cursive, which makes reading it go even faster. I stare at the signature, 6-1.

Six is obviously meant to denote the name, as there are only five factions. This whole 4-4, 6-1 business seems so impersonal, so I do my best to write a worthwhile letter to a complete stranger.

Dear Six,

Hello. I hope you are doing well. Unfortunately, I think we have the same short list of acceptable topics to discuss, so I will do my best to keep my letters as entertaining as possible.

I did do well in school, and every now and then I miss it just a little bit. It was definitely nice to have that type of easy routine. My days aren't much harder now, they're just filled with more unexpected things.

Yeah, this new program is a little weird. But it's just starting out, and if it succeeds, it could be very useful to those who are about to start their lives. Who knows, maybe they'll relax the rules in the future. Everything needs to start somewhere.

Wow, you're right. I'm afraid if I make this letter any longer, I'll run out of things to talk to you about. So how about a few questions?
What's your favorite school subject?
Do you have any siblings? I don't. My mother passed away when I was young.
Have you seen a Choosing Ceremony before? I can try and answer some questions if you have any.

I'll do my best to make my next letter more interesting.

Regards,

Four

That wasn't too bad. I guess it could have been worse. Am I that nice though? No, not really. I chuckle a bit as I fold the letter and address the envelope properly. It's still early in the afternoon, so I lay down in my bed and close my eyes.

Listen up, boy. You don't know what's good for you. You don't know what you want, and when you do, it will be too late. Trust me. This is for your own good.

My eyes fly open as I bring a hand to my chest. My heart is beating a million miles a minute and I'm covered in a thin layer of sweat. My back aches as though my dream was real; the reality is it's just a memory. I steady my breathing and look at the clock. It's early still, so I change into an old shirt and a pair of sweats and head down to the training center. I wrap my hands carefully before I take out the frustrations of my fear and my dream on the punching bag. Each hit is a mix of pain and pleasure and wishful thinking. Sometimes I curse myself for my choice; for being such a coward.

I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere.

I mix the oils carefully and pour them into the water, easing into my bathtub three hours later. Every square inch of me is screaming out in pain from being pushed to the absolute limit. But I clench my jaw and suffer through it, for my own good. I'm used to pain, and I can't let this tolerance subside. Not if I'm going to make a harder life for myself. My choices run through my mind over and over. It's clear to me that there's only one way to undo the mistakes I have made.

I find Zeke sitting at a table in the back corner of the bar, beer waiting.
"Thanks for coming," he says quietly. I see one empty glass and his current one is already half gone.
"No problem. What's going on?" I ask before taking a drink of my own.
"You're training this years initiates again, right?"
I sigh. "Why?"
"Uriah."

I look around quickly. The bar is mostly empty, but there's enough noise to drown out our conversation. "What about Uriah?" Zeke just looks at me over the rim of his glass. I don't need him to elaborate. I think I knew before Zeke did. I just needed to clarify.
"I need you to watch out for him."
"I think I'm with the transfers."
"Shit. Do you know who's with the Dauntless borns then?"
"No. They haven't assigned anyone yet, last I heard."
Zeke sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Shit," he says again.
"Listen. It will be okay. He'll be fine." I don't know if he will, but what else is there to say? This also means my plans need to be put on hold. It's an easy sacrifice for my best friend.

"There's something else, man." I raise an eyebrow at him. "I think...Shauna...we were stupid one time..."
"Zeke."
"I think she's pregnant."
"Zeke."
"I know."

I sigh loudly and give him a look as he lowers his head. "You're eighteen."
"I know."
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"You've only been together a few months."
"I know."
"But you'll probably be the best father in the whole compound."
He looks up at me as a slow smile spreads across his face. "I know."

"So are we celebrating?"
"Not yet. It's still early, and she has a doctors appointment at the end of the week."
"So, there's still a chance she's not?"
"Yeah. I just needed to freak out for a minute."
I laugh. "Zeke. You're an idiot."
He grins. "I know."

Beatrice

I rush as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself, anxious to get to my Factions class. Our letters come today. The thrill of possibly talking to someone outside of my faction has been at the forefront of my mind since Friday, when I wrote my first letter. Wednesday has the potential to be my favorite day of the week. I ease into my seat and sit with my hands folded in my lap, for fear they might betray my excitement.

Everyone settles in and Mrs. Bradford walks desk to desk, handing out our letters. "Don't open them just yet! We're going to continue with our lesson on Candor today. Take your letters home and read them tonight, and make sure you have your replies to me on Friday." I run my fingers across the edge of my envelope before placing it safely in my folder and sigh.

The day drags on, but the bus ride home is worse. I keep my head down and try not to focus on how close I am to my small bit of freedom. I wait patiently as always for the others to exit first, and make my way home. I run straight to up to my room, close the door, and open my envelope.

This is not what I imagined.

But what did I imagine? Someone spilling all the secrets of their faction? Confessing to their dislike of The Choosing Ceremony? Wishing they had chosen differently? At least the handwriting is nice; small neat print. I stare and try to figure out if Four is a boy or a girl.

Four.

They called me Six. Almost on a first name basis with a complete stranger. I study their responses and try to gauge which faction they might be from. Definitely can rule out Dauntless and Candor. This persons too polite. Erudite? Possibly, but it's definitely on the bottom of the list. That leaves Amity and Abnegation. I sigh. Chances are I was paired with someone from my own faction. I laugh at myself. Guess that's what I get for being selfish. I grab a piece of paper and decide to test the waters.

Dear Four,

I'm very sorry to hear about your mother. That must have been very difficult for you. I love my parents very much and can't imagine my life without them. I have an older brother as well, but we're close enough in age that we are in the same year. He's doing this same assignment too.

We both went to last years Choosing Ceremony. Even though we weren't choosing, I was still nervous. It's such a big moment in our lives.

I don't really have a favorite subject in school. They're all just okay. Right now though I guess it would be Faction History. That's the class that's making us write these letters. I was hoping to get more out of this though than some anonymous chit chat though. My teacher gives us our letters sealed, which means she doesn't read them. If you think it's okay, I would like to talk about more than the "approved" list. But I might as well round it out, and do exactly as the rules dictate.

The weather is nice and warm today, as I'm sure you know. I doubt it's any different where you are.
School is okay. My course load is easy enough. Not a lot of homework today.
My appearance: Short. Small frame. Fair skin. Gray eyes. Long blonde hair.

I think that's everything. We'll have to figure something out if we wish our letters to contain more than this.

Sincerely,

Six

If my partner really is Abnegation, I'll probably get in trouble. It's okay though. At least it would be something out of the ordinary. I seal my envelope tight, write a neat 4-4 on the front and place it back in my folder before starting on the rest of my homework.

"So, Beatrice, Caleb. How is the new program going?" our father asks at dinner.
"Very well. It's an amazing learning opportunity," Caleb answers quickly.
"It's okay," I answer honestly.
"Just okay? A lot of thought and preparation went into this, Beatrice. This was a huge task, getting the factions to cooperate like this," my father says sternly.
"I know. There's just so many limitations on what's acceptable to discuss. It makes it hard to really learn anything or have a normal conversation."
"You just need to be more creative, Beatrice," Caleb says, with an apparent air of superiority meant to denote he is not struggling at all.
"There's not enough to get creative with, Caleb."
"That's enough," our father scolds. We both put our heads down and finish dinner in silence, before cleaning up and heading to our rooms.

As I lay in bed, Caleb's words keep running through my mind. Be more creative. If my little test fails, then I will.