Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.
As a kid growing up in Erudite, Eric had his fair share of nights spent lying awake, unable to shut his mind off completely. Studying so intensely, on a regular basis, can do that to a person. But those nights were nothing compared to the one before the Choosing Ceremony.
So which will it be? Amity, or Dauntless? The kind choice, or the choice I promised to make?
Eric kneads his forehead with the heels of his hands, cursing under his breath. His thoughts have been racing back and forth like this since sundown. He just wants to rest, but he can't relax until he chooses. And the Ceremony is mere hours away.
What did the lady at the testing site tell him? "You don't seem Dauntless enough, because you selected the cheese over the knife." Bullshit. Eric isn't particularly opposed to violence, nor does he fear sharp objects. He picked the cheese due to its usefulness, for the sustenance it might've provided.
But the woman couldn't see into his mind. Next, she ruled out Amity. "You failed because you did not properly console the crying girl. She was not looking for a solution to her problems. She simply wanted to be listened to and understood." Yeah, right. How was he supposed to know that? The girl said some guy had harassed her, so Eric offered to kick the shit out of him!
"That was a Dauntless-oriented response. But your actions did not match your words. When I had you bump into those thugs on the street, you were unable to fight them off." Unable to? Please. He refused. There's a difference. It would've been foolish to challenge six guys at once, so Eric distracted them and found an escape route.
"Logic, huh? No wonder you're Erudite." But what about Candor, Abnegation? "When I put you on the bus, you wouldn't admit that you knew the murderer, so you can't be Candor. As for Abnegation, well, you wouldn't share your lunch with the other boy at your table." Eric feels himself fuming. There was a ton of food already available! All that kid had to do was walk over to the counter.
"See? You react in the most logical way. At your core, you're an Erudite." The woman then told Eric not to lose sleep over his choice, that he was lucky enough to be born in the right place. Good advice, but for the most part meaningless.
Keeping his eyes away from the clock, Eric rolls onto his side and hikes the bedsheets up, so the fabric's covering his ears. Megan's practicing a Beethoven sonata in her room, and downstairs, Jeffrey has the volume cranked up as he listens to his Buddhist chants.
Eric suppresses a groan. It's only, what? Seven-thirty-ish? How is their house always polluted with noise?
Hiding under the sheets doesn't help. Maggie raps hard on the door, once, then she pushes her way in. "Eric, get up," she says in her usual curt manner. "Do not be late."
She's gone before Eric can say something back. Sighing, he finally removes the sheets and crawls out of bed. He may not be ready to choose yet, but the world will move on without him if he doesn't.
"Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony," says Max, the council representative from Dauntless. It's their turn to host the event this year. Max doesn't even need a microphone, because his voice is loud enough and strong enough to penetrate everyone's skulls.
"Today, you'll be choosing your factions. Until this day you've followed your parents' paths, your parents' rules. Now you'll find your own path, make your own rules."
Such a typical Dauntless speech. I can almost see Marcus pressing his lips together with contempt. I almost do it myself, then I remember I don't share his opinion. I'll be Dauntless myself soon enough.
"A long time ago, our ancestors realized that human nature was the root of all evil. But they couldn't agree on what the greatest evil was. Some said that it was dishonesty…"
I think of every lie I've ever told, every instance where I excused this bruise or that cut, saying it was because I tripped over a curb or lost my balance on the stairs. At the same time, I know I'd never choose Candor. Their version of initiation requires you to expose every secret, to flay yourself alive. I can't do that.
"Some said ignorance, some aggression…"
I think about Amity. It seems like the common-sense option, with its peaceful orchards and smiling community. But I couldn't be part of that tribe. The people are way too perfect, too kind for someone like me. They can cheer one another, support one another. I couldn't, not when I've got my own demons to ward off.
"And some said that it was selfishness."
I want to roll my eyes, though I'd get called out for being rude. Marcus said punishing me was for my own good. Like it was an act of self-sacrifice. Like it hurt him more than it hurt me. Well, I don't think I'll ever see him shed tears over the destruction of my art. Those objects didn't mean anything to him.
"The last group said that the greatest evil was cowardice."
A few good-natured hoots rise up from the Dauntless section. My heart accelerates in response. I think of the fear that swallowed me last night, to the point where I couldn't move. I'm only minutes away from liberating myself from that fear.
"That's why we created our factions, Candor, Erudite, Amity, Abnegation, and Dauntless. In them, we find administrators, teachers, counselors, leaders, and protectors. We find communities, our sense of belonging, our very lives." Max looks bored out of his mind. "Enough of that. Let's get to it."
Laughter from the audience. It doesn't last long. Max continues, unperturbed. "Come forward and get your knife, then make your choice. First up, Zellner, Gregory."
We'll be going in reverse alphabetical order this year. This means Eric will choose before I do. But many other kids are in front of us. Gregory Zellner cuts himself with the knife and holds his bleeding hand over the bowl of dirt, to choose Amity.
The ceremony moves on too fast. "Rogers, Helena."
She picks Candor. I barely register it. I'm chewing on my nails out of nervousness. What happens when it's my best friend's turn? What if he makes a last-minute change and doesn't choose Dauntless?
"Lovelace, Frederick."
Frederick, a boy I remember seeing in Eric's neighborhood, cuts his palm and lets his blood drip into the Erudite water. Silently, I pray the entrance exam goes well for him. Eric told me all about it, and it sounds like a special form of torture. An eight-hour-long marathon of a test that teens spend practically their whole lives studying for. And if you don't score high enough, that's it. All the doors in Erudite will slam in your face.
Just imagining it sends a shudder down my back. To reassure myself, I reach inside my jacket, feeling for the Ceramics-final sculpture. I almost left my house in Abnegation without it. When I concealed it under my pillow, I managed to rescue it from Marcus. Now it's the very last work of art that he hasn't touched.
All of a sudden, Max is shouting Eric's name. And bile is rising in my throat and my hands are balling up into fists and I'm hoping everything goes according to plan. Because if it doesn't, I'll be forced back into uncertain territory, like a lone sailor heading into treacherous waters, and I just don't have enough strength to keep myself from drowning.
Amity. That's what I'm gonna choose.
As Eric makes his way over to the podium, he allows this one thought to wash everything else away. He can't see the faces of his old friends from Erudite. He can't hear the tense whispers and excited murmurs from the audience. He can't even feel the carpeted floor beneath his shoes. All he's focused on is his determination to choose kindness, even over strength or logic.
He can see it now. When he leaves that stage, he'll be one step closer to becoming a better person. He'll join a passionate, optimistic group, full of upstanding people he can learn from. He'll forget about grades and salaries and name brands, and he and his fellow citizens will live as one.
It's the future he always secretly dreamed of. And that dream is about to be realized. Until…
A familiar pair of brown eyes locks on him. Ms. Palacio's standing close to the aisle, close enough to touch the candidate walking to the stage. "Don't forget," she whispers to Eric. "Make the kind choice."
Eric falters in the middle of a step. Wasn't he already set on doing just that? Making the right choice, the kindest one possible? Is Ms. Palacio's reminder a sign that he's doing the wrong thing?
Suddenly, his willpower starts to crumble. But he's already stepping onto the stage in front of thousands, including his parents and sister. Max says a few words of congratulations, then he passes the knife to Eric. In that moment, it's on him and him alone to choose.
Crap. I can't screw up now.
He holds the blade up to his palm, but his grip is wobbly. He must look like a scared child. Hoping to ground himself in reality, he looks out at the sea of faces before him. There's his Trig professor, his pale, bald head resembling a bird's egg. In the way back is Megan, her expression apathetic. She doesn't give a damn about her brother's rite of passage. She just wants to get out of class, that's all.
Then there's… wait. Is it really… ? Yes, it is. Tobias stands in the Abnegation section, uncomfortably close to his glorified sperm donor. Despite this, something transforms in him when Eric makes eye contact and turns in the direction of the Dauntless bowl. He almost bursts at the seams with excitement. Like a ten-year-old finding out school was cancelled for a snow day.
Of course, why wouldn't he? He spent sixteen years living without safety or security, never knowing when Marcus would attack next. No safe spaces to turn to, no teachers or counselors or mothers to be vulnerable with. The only constant in his life? Another kid his own age, who lived too far away to cancel out Marcus' abuse. Now is their chance to start anew with each at the other's side. But if either of them messes up, their brotherhood that took years to build will cease to exist.
In a way, there are only two choices in front of them. Stick to the plan and remain brothers, or go where they really want to go, down separate paths.
So where am I going? I can't put it off any longer. I gotta decide now… oh God, which is it gonna be?
Eric's fingers tremble as he presses the blade deeper into his palm. Pain shoots through his hand, but he doesn't let it show on his face. He looks at Tobias for a last time, long enough to see his friend cross his fingers and mouth, Please.
That's it. There's just one path Eric can take now.
He turns abruptly, so he's no longer facing the bowl of dirt. Taking a deep breath, he waits until the flow of red from his wound becomes a small puddle. Then he thrusts his hand into the space above the Dauntless bowl, watching with satisfaction as his blood drips onto the coals.
He did it. He made the kind choice.
AN: This one had so much tension, you could've sliced through it with the knife! Oh well, we always knew what they were gonna pick. See you next time, readers! Love ya!