Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.
It's early in the morning, that time of day when the birds are chirping at their loudest. Sunlight streams in through the windows, illuminating the whole house.
Downstairs, a harsh voice rings out. "Eric!" It belongs to a middle-aged woman whose vocal cords are probably made of steel. "Eric, hurry up!"
Eric's still half-asleep, but he knows it's way past time to get up. And not just because he has school. Today is one of the most important days for a sixteen-year-old Chicagoan. The eve of the Choosing Ceremony.
Stifling a yawn, Eric climbs out of bed and quickly gets ready for school. It's a cumbersome process, scrubbing his face clean, tidying his hair, and putting on every piece of his uniform. But after years and years of repeating the steps, he barely has to think. He just has to go fast enough to keep his mom from nagging him again.
Can he even remember the last time he wasn't operating on a timer? Was it on that day when he and Tobias Eaton first met? When they took turns shooting at Eric's glasses with a paintball gun? That was seven years ago. Neither of them are kids anymore.
Eric finishes getting dressed in record time. That doesn't stop the woman downstairs from hollering at him yet again. "I'm coming, Mom," Eric yells back. He stumbles down the stairs with his bag messily slung over one shoulder.
At the bottom, his mother, Maggie, is waiting for him. She impatiently taps her knuckles against the banister, a frown carving several lines into her forehead. Otherwise, her skin is almost unnaturally smooth, made that way through a strict grooming regimen.
When Eric looks at her, he's taken aback by how similar they are in appearance. Same bone-straight black hair, same piercing dark eyes, even the way both their mouths naturally turn downward. This leaves Eric feeling sickened. He certainly enjoys his reputation as the son of Erudite's Minister of Education, but that doesn't mean he wants to be anything like his mom.
Maggie turns away, a sour look on her face. "He's this old, and he still won't get up in the morning," Eric hears her mutter in Thai. He cringes. But instead of responding, as he's been tempted to do so often, he just walks away and begins stuffing his textbooks inside his bag.
Maggie's not done. "Why didn't you go to bed on time?" she demands to know.
Eric has to stop himself from making a sarcastic remark. "You told me to finish my essay, remember?" he reminds her. Not that it'll satisfy her.
"So disrespectful," Maggie says under her breath. "This kid just won't grow up already." She abruptly turns on her heel and stalks off.
More than anything, Eric's grateful. Not having to defend himself against his mother's accusations means he can actually get to school early.
Then he starts to hear music. Literally, someone's playing on the grand piano in one of the other rooms. Eric knows immediately who it is. A grin slowly makes its way onto his face.
Creeping forward on quiet feet, he sneaks a peek at the young musician. It's his sister, Megan, two years his junior yet so much more focused, so much more talented. Her long, slender fingers are tapping out the familiar melody of Chopin's "Raindrop" prelude.
Eric watches Megan for a minute. She plays with a precision that would make any beginner jealous. Her timing is immaculate and the notes seem to spring forth from her fingertips on command. But, Eric thinks, despite all of the trophies she's accumulated, there's something missing in her playing. There's no emotion behind it, none of the nuances that occasionally surprise you when someone tries a new interpretation. Her version makes each A-flat sound less like a raindrop and more like… well, an A-flat.
Then again, what do I know? I finished third in the Erudite Youth Piano Competition last year, and she finished first. As always.
Eric suddenly gets this urge to mess with Megan. He slinks forward, careful not to draw attention to himself. Once he's close enough, he slams his hand down on the keyboard, creating a discordant jumble of notes. Megan stops playing and directs her intense gaze at him.
"Hey!" she snaps. "I'm practicing."
"You're assaulting my eardrums," Eric tells her playfully. What he doesn't mention is that he's only half kidding. He puts on a show of covering both his ears. "It hurts…"
"So go away!" Megan gives her brother a shove.
Eric just laughs.
"Now!" For someone so young, Megan never wants to loosen up and have fun. Eric can tell she's totally serious, so he surrenders and backs off.
"Alright, alright." He turns and leaves the room, still smiling.
Megan ignores Eric completely. "He's so annoying," she grumbles. With a huff, she resumes her playing, banging out the notes with a renewed vigor. Eric's smile fades.
What did I do to deserve a family like this? he wonders. As if he isn't being tortured enough, next his father, Jeffrey, comes stomping down the stairs. He looks unusually sloppy in just a bathrobe and a pair of slippers, but Eric knows better than to poke fun at him. His idea of discipline is leaving his children unable to sit down without excruciating pain.
"Kids, what's going on?" Jeffrey looks quizzically at his son, then at his daughter. "Are you practicing?" he asks Megan. It seems like an open-ended question, but there's only one right answer.
Megan meets his gaze. "Yes," she replies immediately.
"Good, good." Jeffrey's placated, for the time being. He lumbers over to his wife and shoves a newspaper in her face. "Maggie, did you know, our daughter's won another award. She's first ranked among young musicians in our faction."
Something like pure bliss lights up Maggie's whole face. She snatches the paper from her husband's hand and looks closely at the headline. "Wow, what a talent!" she praises Megan. "When she goes to her Choosing, we'll have no concerns about her."
Both Maggie and Jeffrey descend upon Megan, showering her with compliments, hugs, and kisses. Eric observes them from the doorway, gripping his bag so tightly he starts to lose feeling in his fingertips. What he's seeing is the perfect family portrait. Two adoring parents are coming together to love their girl. The only issue is, one member of the family is missing.
"Mom?" Eric dares to say. "Did you forget? Tomorrow, I go to my own Choosing."
Maggie momentarily snaps out of her trance. When she looks at Eric, her expression is gentle. But Eric's gotten good at noticing the smaller details. The way Maggie had to adjust her face before making eye contact with her son. The glare that appeared on cue when Eric distracted her from her bonding time with Megan. The way she tried hard to conceal her anger and annoyance, but not hard enough.
"Yes, I know," Maggie says to her son, somewhat flatly. "Just do well, okay?"
Eric nods. He feels his face slowly start to heat up. One thing's clear, if he stays in this house any longer, he'll reach his boiling point. He'd better get out now.
His bag swinging behind him, he makes a break for the front door. There's only one person he wants to talk to, and it's the last person anyone in his family would expect.
The bus jostles me back and forth as I cling to the metal pole. I'm struggling to hang on, though I can't make it obvious. Attracting attention is "unbecoming of an Abnegation gentleman", as Marcus would say.
So is referring to my father using his first name. Whatever. He stopped being a dad to me years ago.
But I won't have to worry about him anymore. I haven't told a soul, but one day from now, I'll leave Abnegation and never look back.
All around me, there's a sense of finality. I survey the other passengers in the seats surrounding me. Some are Candor, some Erudite, some Amity, others Dauntless. But no matter the faction, they're all discussing the same thing, the Choosing Ceremony.
There's a group of Candor teens, all of them caught up in a heated argument over the merits of transferring. Two Amity girls are clutching each other and sobbing, apparently because one decided to switch to Abnegation. An older man from Erudite is talking quietly with his colleague. Both are unsure what to do about their teenage sons, both of whom want to stay in Erudite, but flunked out of school.
I glance at my fellow members of Abnegation. They're few and far between, and wherever they are, they're standing in the aisle. None will look at me. That's fine, I think. Totally fine. Getting ignored and cast aside is the norm for me.
Besides, there's something pleasant about spending this last trip to school in silence. I don't have to mull over my choice just yet. I can just stand here and stare out the window, watching the other buses, cars, and pedestrians and letting everything else become background noise.
Not for long, though. Minutes later, the bus pulls up next to a curb and comes to a halt. The passengers from Candor, Erudite, Amity, and Dauntless stand and file out. The Abnegation wait to get off last, as usual.
Feeling more than a bit rebellious, I speed up and push ahead of the gray-clothed crowd. There's someone I'm expecting to see. I honestly can't wait to tell him about my choice.
I must've been zoning out, though, because I smack right into him, my bag hitting him in the face. He takes several uncoordinated steps back, rubbing his nose with one hand.
"Oh, shit, sorry." The Abnegation tend to avoid using profanity, but then again, most haven't spent a lot of time with my best friend.
"Jeez, Toby. You look like you're about to faint," Eric says, and though he's still got a hand pressed to his nose, he's grinning.
"So do you," I tell him. I don't even try to wipe the smirk off my face. "What'd you get, four hours of sleep last night?"
Eric looks sheepish. "Three," he confesses.
"Damn, you studied for that long?" I'm messing with him a little. I already know he likes the idea of staying in Erudite about as much as I like Marcus.
Eric fakes being offended. "Hell no!" he says hotly. Lowering his voice, he adds, "You probably figured, but I'm not going to Erudite."
It's likely the first time he's let that slip to anyone. My smile widens. "Oh, my God. Your mom's gonna flip out." I know Maggie well enough to be sure that she will.
"Yeah," Eric agrees. "And it'll be the best thing I ever saw."
We cross the street to the imposing building that makes up the school. I actually feel a pang of sorrow, knowing I'll be leaving it forever. I try to memorize the exterior of the place. The gleaming glass windows. The front doors that squeal loudly every time they swing open. The height of the structure that dwarfs the smaller apartments next to it.
Before I know it, I'm at the entrance, swept up in the mass of students. Eric pushes on the door with force, so it opens wide enough for me to get through. We enter the crowded hallway and immediately head in the direction of the stairs.
"So, you thought about it?" I ask Eric. "What faction you're gonna pick?"
Eric considers this for a minute. "Not really," he finally says. "I mean, it's probably best to wait till…" His voice trails off and he shrugs.
We're climbing the stairs already. I finish his thought for him. "After the aptitude test," I suggest.
"Yep," Eric confirms.
The second floor is where we're supposed to be. When we get there, I have to take one last look around. I study the rows and rows of identical metal lockers. I try to listen in on the random bits of gossip. I breathe in the odor of tennis shoes, pencil shavings, and century-old wood.
"I'm gonna miss this place," I admit.
Eric smirks at me. "Funny. Didn't think you'd ever get to liking Professor Snake-ass." The teacher's real name is Snodgrass, but the nickname stuck after we took a few classes with him. The memory of him, ironically, brings a smile to my face. I'm remembering the time he called Eric up to his desk, then hit him with that ruler in front of everyone. Serves Eric right for passing off my assignment as his own.
Not that it matters. I've long since forgiven him, and written off Mr. Snake-ass.
"Me neither," I joke. "But he's a hell of a lot better than… you know who." Any happiness I was feeling is suddenly washed away.
"Marcus, yeah." Eric utters the name that's too repugnant for me to say. "When's the last time that prick got to hear the word 'Dad'?"
"Back when he could still get laid," I snort. Leave it to my best friend to instantly lighten the mood, even when he's not feeling his best.
Then Eric says what's already in my thoughts out loud. "Guess that means you're leaving Abnegation."
"Yeah, but where to?" It seems like all of a sudden, confusion replaced the euphoria in my mind. Planning to exit Abnegation, that was the simplest part. What comes after will be a lot more complicated. I have four paths to choose from, and none will be easy to navigate.
"I haven't decided yet, either," Eric reminds me. A new idea brightens his expression. "You think we could end up in the same place?"
"Let's hope so," I reply. When I turn to face Eric, I see him gnawing on his lower lip. He's on edge, and for good reason.
The realization settles over me. Whatever I choose, I'll be deciding not only my own future, but those of the ones close to me. Faction before blood, they all say. It sounded like a great catchphrase when I plotted to leave Marcus. But he's far from my only family.
Seeing Eric's reaction, I add, "Actually, don't get your hopes up. Wait till you've taken the test."
"Okay," says Eric.
Just then, the warning bell goes off. The students in the hallway begin to disperse. "First hour's starting," Eric points out. He indicates the far end of the corridor with his head. "My class, it's this way."
I have to go in the other direction. They'll have rearranged our classrooms to leave space for the aptitude tests. I nod at Eric, trying not to let my emotions show. "Okay, see you."
"Later, asshole." He turns away, smiling faintly, then he is lost in the crowd.
Once again, I'm totally alone. And there's a high chance I could stay like this, starting tomorrow when the Choosing Ceremony is done. It all depends on what the volunteer at the testing site tells me. Am I best suited for Candor, Erudite, Amity, or Dauntless? Will I go with the flow, or put my fate in my own hands? Do I even want to choose for myself? What if my choice is wrong?
Better not to dwell on it. Better to live in the moment and avoid the source of my anxieties. Still, I can't do this for more than a few hours. I'll eventually be the one sitting in the testing room, in that ghoulish contraption with the wires sticking out of my head. Waiting to be injected with a mystery substance. Waiting to be shown the future I'm not sure I want.
And when it finally happens, there won't be a single thing I can do to resist.
AN: In case it wasn't obvious enough, the characters in this fic are based on the ones from the BOOK, not the ones from the MOVIE. I don't know about you, but to me the movie was a huge letdown. It was nothing at all like what I pictured in my head. So when I started writing this fic, I made sure to portray the characters exactly like how I pictured them in my head.
Also, is Eric's family partly based on my own? Yes, yes they are… lol.