The tests begin after lunch. I won't be taking any of my afternoon classes today, so I'll have plenty of time to think about my choice. We mostly did nothing in class. One would think that the teachers would want to cram all they could into one last lesson because for some this will be our last day of school for the rest of our lives, but that would be wrong. It was mostly just parting words and free time. This was everyone else's last day of the school year too, but they'll be back again and they also got to leave before lunch. We're stuck here until at least the end of the school day. I'm hoping that I'm not one of the unlucky ones to be called last, I've heard this can go into the evening. No one knows what the test is exactly because we're not supposed to be told, that way no one can fudge their results.
I sit between Casey and my other friend; Elizabeth Reynolds, known to most as Eliza. Eliza is a bit arrogant to say the very least. She always has been, but it's not like she doesn't have a reason to be. She's highly intelligent and has a knack for navigating life with a certain sensibility and grace that I could never amount to. She radiates elegance in every aspect of her life, a product of her upbringing I guess – though that just raises the question of why I can't be like that when we grew up together. Like Casey and I, Eliza was born to powerful people. Her father, Jason, is the other council liaison. He works very closely with my father. Her mother, Cynthia, owns the largest makeup company in the city; it's branched out from just being an Erudite business to opening a shop in City Center where people of all factions can go.
In some ways, Eliza reminds me a lot of Natasha. Natasha is kind of arrogant too but totally has a reason to be with how smart she is, and they have that same drive to know everything that they can about everything. That's what makes us friends. I have an interest in everything too; the difference is that Eliza is good at everything she tries and I have to try at everything I do.
I met Eliza when we were seven at one of my parents' many dinner parties. She's funny and she's got this energy about her that repulses some but draws in Casey and I. She's one of the really competitive Erudite, but Casey and I are the exception. We're all totally secure in our friendship and we all know where we stand. It's not that Casey and I aren't smart enough to keep up with Eliza, it's just that neither of us really want to compete against her like others do. She's our friend and we're all more invested in supporting one other. There's nothing that I wouldn't do for either of them, all that they have to do ask. And I know for certain that they feel the same about me.
Eliza twirls a lock of her silky black hair around her finger as she talks, her voice laced with haughty contempt. "Dahlia doesn't know what she's talking about and I'm more than happy to set her right if she would only get off her high horse and listen."
Eliza holds a particular disdain for quite a few classmates of ours and from what I know, there are many that feel the same about her. She speaks of Dahlia Kane often, and I can't say that I disagree with her. Like I said, some of the acquaintances I have are just terrible.
"She's so arrogant," Casey says. "And totally underserving."
"Mhm." Eliza nods in agreement. "I'm so sick of her acting like she's better than me or something."
"At least I'll never have to see her again after today," Casey says with a smile that contrasts the heavy nature of her statement that isn't lost on Eliza and I. But we all knew that this day was coming;. We've known for years that Casey would leave us and, like me, Eliza is just glad that she's pursuing her own happiness.
"Ugh, Mimette and I are probably going to be stuck with her forever," Eliza says with a roll of her eyes.
No one wants to discuss our choices without certainty. But I'm the only one of my friends without it. Eliza knows and has always known that Erudite is where she truly belongs. It suits her, she loves it here. She knows how to excel in ways that kind of scare me. Amity suits Casey in a similar way. Seeing her clad in yellow and red won't be any surprise.
Casey and Eliza both sort of assume that I'm staying because of how deeply tied to the place I am and I don't have the nerve to tell them that I'm not sure. I want to tell them now, but there are too many other people around. I want to tell them now, but I don't want Eliza to freak out. I want to tell them now, but it might all amount to nothing but a case of nerves.
I wish that this were simpler; I wish there was some sort of 'Idiot's guide to choosing a faction' or something. I think that would really help. Maybe the notion that knowing more would make my life easier means that I'm fated for Erudite. Maybe if I just keep repeating that I belong somewhere then eventually I will; maybe that's just how it works for everyone.
I do not think that is how it works for everyone.
My lack of response creates a pocket of awkwardness as Eliza and Casey both look to me to laugh with them and join their casual disparaging of Dahlia's character. Not that she doesn't totally have it coming.
Before I can force the awkward laugh from my throat and stumble over an agreement of how much it will suck to always be around Dahlia all the time, I receive a text that gives me an excuse to look away. Natasha is asking me to lunch after I'm done with testing and I tell her that that sounds lovely. I might even be able to get some advice on what to do from her. Of course, Natasha always knew who she was going to be and where she belonged, I remember her always saying 'When I'm a member…' like there was never any alternative because for her I suppose there wasn't. I doubt there was one for Nikolai either; my reserved and studious brother who spent so much of his time holed up in his room studying long before he began initiation. Erudite is woven into the twins, and my parents, and Jeanine, and Eliza in a way that I wish it could be a part of me. I wish that I could just exude that energy, have that personality; I wish that I'm just a little bit more like them so that I would know exactly what to do.
With Percy and Minerva, my memories are always a little fuzzier. Honestly, I don't remember a lot of Percy before he was getting close to leaving. I wasn't around him like I was around the twins and I can't really remember him acting really 'like Amity'. He didn't act like my parents, I remember that, but I also knew enough about people to know that everyone was different. I hear how faction transfers always seem a little off before they leave, but I never saw that with Percy and Minerva. Or maybe it was always there, and I was just too young to realize.
I wonder if they struggled with their choices like I'm struggling with mine now. I wonder if they fought what they were and my confusion is just me subconsciously suppressing who I really am. But I like to think that I would know if I were Candor or Amity.
It's not just the Dauntless that I like to watch. Staring at the tables of black and white clad teens is another guilty pleasure. There's something in the way they talk, the confidence of it all. I don't think that they're so different from Erudite; truth and knowledge go hand in hand after all. Sometimes my Candor classmates talk out of turn or speak to loudly, but sometimes debating them makes my heart thrum with excitement.
I am not the only one who likes to watch people in other factions. Amongst the Dauntless, one girl sits somewhat apart. She holds cards in her hand, but her gaze is on me. When I wiggle my fingers at her, she gives a subtle wave back.
Casey and Eliza follow my gaze to Kira Elysium, giving their own smiles. We were all fourteen when Kira and I were paired for a biology project. It was our first year of upper levels and I had never talked to a Dauntless before. Sometimes I am prone to prying questions, at least that's what I've been told. Kira is the same though and we wound up interrogating each other about our disparate ways of living far more than we worked on our project. Introducing her to Eliza and Casey was something of a gamble, but she fits with us more easily than I think any of us ever expected. She likes to say that who she is with us is an alter ego, a different skin she can slip into when Dauntless isn't enough.
There's a part of me that wishes I could do the reverse. Not because I want to transfer, but just to know. That's all. I just need to know what that other life is like.
As our conversation lulls, Eliza goes back to the book laid in front of her. It's one of the many on the initiation preparatory reading list. I should be doing the same. Some born in Erudite who already knows they are going to choose Erudite is allowed to submit applications for specific dorms so they can be with their friends, or take prep classes. I'd taken a few prep classes, I've looked at the study guides. But two weeks ago, when Eliza wanted us to submit our dorm applications together with answers tailored to match us up, I lied to her about it. If someone asked me why, I don't think I could actually explain it. I mean, I am going to choose Erudite. So what's the problem?
I pretend like I'm looking at the book that I brought, but in reality I'm just watching all of the other factions. They're fascinating; I don't know how anyone couldn't spend all their time watching.
It is only when Eliza's name is called that I snap my gaze away from the quiet Abnegation. The bad blood between them and us is justified, but I do wonder what it's like to be so at peace with yourself.
I don't wish Eliza luck. She doesn't need it and never has. We have talked about our futures together before. I don't think Eliza has ever really liked politics, but I still think that she would make an incredible successor to Jeanine.
"Are you nervous? asks Casey quietly, twisting her fingers together. "I'm nervous."
I nod, "Yeah, I am. But it'll be fine; we – we already know where we belong." The words feel wrong in my mouth, like the kind of lie that makes your skin crawl and you feel uncomfortable for ever saying it.
She nods with a strange look on her face. "Right."
We fall into silence again and she goes back to her own book so I glance down at my phone, trying to pass the time by scrolling through my pictures. I've been told that I'm something of a photo hoarder, but I can't help it. Having visual evidence helps me cling to memories. I see myself before my final cello recital, four cups of fancy coffee that I got with my friends, brunches, Casey blowing out the candles on her sixteenth birthday. It all makes that knot in my stomach tighten. We're going to be fine, we all know that, but things are going to change. I've never been good with change.
I steal a glance at Casey, hoarding another memory of her face. When she's going through Amity initiation, we won't see each other. When she comes out the other side, she'll be different. We'll all be different.
I stare down at our most recent group picture. Eliza has her arm thrown around Kira, who is beaming. Casey seems to be mid laugh and I look unspeakably happy. What if I never smile like that again?
I am staring at that photo for so long that eventually Eliza comes back. I think I do a remarkable job of keeping the tears out of my eyes. Eliza is calm and confident just like I knew she would be. Good at everything she tries, even this.
I take in her face as well; the dark skin, the makeup smoothing over imperfections that aren't even there, the rich brown of her eyes. What will she look like five years from now? Ten? Twenty? Will I get to see any of it?
I tell myself that I will. We will always stay friends; circumstances change but we stay the same. Even when Kira is Erudite, even when Casey is Amity, we will still have each other and we will still have these moments.
I am not stupid enough to believe that we won't struggle, that Kira, Eliza, and I won't have to fight our way through Erudite initiation. Even with all of our preparation, it will still challenge us in ways we can't even imagine. That's what everyone I know has always told me. I want to look forward to that challenge, I want to bloom into the Erudite that everyone has always wanted me to be – always known that I will be. When I think of those times, I smother the fear that always wells up in my throat with the knowledge that I may not be effortlessly perfect, but that just keeps me from being complacent.
I do not turn my eyes back to the other sections of students. I do not have the time to because an Abnegation volunteer calls out the names of two Abnegation, two Amity, two Candor, two Dauntless – one of whom is Kira, and then: "From Erudite: Mimette Captor-Malachite and Cassandra Diarmond."
Casey gives my hand a squeeze that absolutely reeks of finality, but the dam inside of me holding back the dread and grief remains firm. At least I can be proud of that.
Even when my legs tremble as I walk toward that door that's been locked for every lunch prior to this, I can almost trick myself into believing that I am staying strong.
In the hallway beyond the threshold are ten more doors. I am standing before door six, Casey is before door five. I look at her, my mouth opening to say something but I don't know what. Anything I could say, I think, would just cheapen the moment. I think she knows that too, because she takes a deep breath and walks through the door. My hand trembles as I grasp the handle to door six, but that is okay.
Inside the room is a chair and a computer terminal with an Abnegation woman sitting at it. We aren't allowed to be tested by members of our own faction, so most of the volunteers are Abnegation with the exception of a few. The woman's back is to me as she finishes something. Her dark brown hair tied into the same bun that every Abnegation woman wears but hers has a few curls that have fallen loose. I close the door behind me with a click and she turns at the sound.
She smiles gently, "Mimette Captor-Malachite, correct?"
"Correct," I repeat back at her.
"My name is Maria." She gestures to the chair beside her. "Have a seat please."
The chair is reclined, so when I lean back I am staring straight up at the ceiling.
"It doesn't hurt," Maria says as though she can sense my nerves. "It's actually rather easy."
"What happens?" I ask because I've always asked questions to stave off my nerves.
"I can't say. Don't worry about it; just do what feels natural."
"What does that mean?"
"Don't worry about it." She moves some of the loose curls behind her ear. Her eyes are dark and warm as her smile.
She hands me a vial of blue tinged liquid. "Drink this."
"What does it do?"
"I can't say, you'll just have to trust me. The test will begin immediately afterward."
I drink it all in one gulp, though it's foul. Immediately a drowsiness comes over me. For some reason I am thinking of that time in mid-levels when I learned about the ocean, about the giant waves called tsunamis that crash against distant lands. I am swept away from this room into something unknown.
Thinking about the ocean just feels right.
When I open my eyes, I am in the cafeteria again but all the tables are gone. In front of me are two pedestals, each one holding a basket. In one basket is a knife as long as my forearm, gleaming silver in the bright light, and in the other is a slab of raw meet.
"Choose," a voice says.
"Why?" I look around for the source of the voice and find nothing. How did I get here again?
"Choose," the voice repeats, which muffles my own thoughts. I bring my hand up to my forehead; trying to think right now feels like trying to run in a pool.
I find my hand hovering over each basket for several long moments. Sometimes I almost reach out for one, but then doubt creeps in about how I might need the other. I don't know how long I stand there; when I try to count the seconds, I feel my focus slipping and the numbers becoming jumbled.
"Choose," the voice encourages me.
I know that voice from somewhere, don't I? It is feminine, gentle, but grasping for the memory makes my vision swim.
Swimming. Water. Ocean. Something clicks in my brain, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. I remember the blue liquid and the reclined chair, I remember room number six.
"Maria?" I call out.
No response, but my vision is clear again and my thoughts are no longer muddled. I stare at the baskets as I remember being told to do what feels natural. What feels natural is trying to grab hold of both, just to see which is more useful. But when I extend my arms out, both baskets are just too far apart for me to reach. First my fingers close around the handle of the knife but when I blink the baskets are both gone.
I stare at my faint reflection in the shining steel, wondering to myself what this is supposed to mean.
But I am not allowed to wonder for long. There is a growl from behind me and I whirl around to see a dog, large and snarling. I look down at the knife again, suddenly painfully aware of its weight and sharpness. The course of action is obvious, but that does not mean anything. It's just an animal, a fake one at that. But the idea of driving this blade into its flesh makes my stomach turn.
Instead, I begin to back away slowly. There is no way for me to outpace it. I should have grabbed the meat. Why didn't I grab the meat?
That fearsome growl comes again as the dog charges. Even as scared as I am, I pitch the knife off to the side and put my hands up. Erudite doesn't allow pets for any reason other than necessary support, but in Amity there is a petting zoo. Usually, an animal on the offensive is just scared. The solution is to not be scared yourself, to not be threatening, to let it approach on its own terms.
Still shaking, I begin to kneel with my hands out. I have never been bitten by anything more than a bug, but I remind myself that this isn't actually happening. I'll be fine.
I repeat this to myself as the dog's nails scrape against the linoleum. I wait for the moment of impact with my eyes closed like that will quell the fear inside me. But the impact never comes, the dog instead skids to a stop just before me. Very slowly, I lift one hand toward its nose, palm out, for it to sniff. It growls again, but I force myself to stay very still. After several long seconds, something cold and wet presses against my palm. When I look up, I find that it's a snout. The vicious expression is gone and it looks at me almost expectantly. Very slowly, I lift my hand to scratch behind the dog's ears. It sits immediately, tail wagging.
"Awww," I coo with a little grin. "You're not so vicious, are you?"
It licks my face and I laugh, wiping the drool away with the back of my hand.
"Puppy!" A child in a white dress exclaims, giggling. Her features are blurry, she's really just a shape. "C'mere."
The dog snarls at the little girl, once again becoming dangerous. The child shrieks and flinches, before the dog can run at her I wrap my arms around its neck, keeping it from charging with only my body weight. I am not strong, but it has to be enough. It just has to be.
I expect to feel sharp teeth sink into me as it thrashes in my arms, but after a moment it stops and there is once again nothing.
I am sitting on a bus amongst dozens of others. The city rattles by in a blur. I try to focus my eyes on those around me, but their features blur too. This time though it is easier to come back to myself; I remember the dog, the child, and the fact that none of this is real.
The only person I can make out with any clarity sits across the aisle. He is in a classic Candor suit, but in front of his face he holds a newspaper, most of the text is small and also blurred no matter how much I try to read it. All I can make out is the headline: "BRUTAL MURDERER STILL AT LARGE". There is a picture below in grainy black and white even though I know that the newspapers usually print in color.
It is me.
That's not possible. But I look down at my hands and there are spots of red and flaking brown. There is a weight in my pocket that I do not have to touch with my hands to know that it is the knife, the knife from the last trial. Is this what happens when you choose it? Again I kick myself for not choosing the meat.
The man looks up from the paper. His dark eyes staring at me with such intensity. He knows, he knows. Murderers are not meant to live amongst other people. They are taken to jail for life, which makes sense to me; a life for a life.
He asks the question I already knew was coming: "Do you know this girl?"
I look down at my blood slicked hands, then back up at the man. If I say yes, I know what will happen to me.
But I am afraid. Even if I might deserve to go to jail, I am still afraid. My mouth is dry as sandpaper as I say, "No."
I hate lying. I have always hated lying. I know how to keep a secret, but when pressed I can never look into someone's eyes. Instead I stare at the paper.
Obviously that simple answer isn't enough. The man furrows his brow. "Are you lying?"
I sallow hard. "No."
"This girl is a killer," he presses. "You could save lives by turning her in."
My gaze once again falls to my hands. I don't know who I have killed, but it makes me sick. Somehow I understand that if I lie to this man, it will happen again. I will hurt more people in this dream space. It's not real, but this has all felt like a weird test of character so far.
A test that I can't fail.
Maria said to do what feels natural. So I do.
"You're looking for me."
I am beneath a spotlight before a board with complicated symbols scrawled across it in a web. Distantly, beyond what I can see, I feel a thousand eyes burning into me. I know instinctively that before me lies a question, a question that I must answer.
A voice from the darkness asks, "Do you have the answer?" This time I know it is Maria without a doubt.
Fear shoots through me; I do not know, and I have never known. But to say that would mean I would suffer terribly, that is clear as well.
I furrow my brow. These pieces of knowledge are heavy in my mind. Wrong somehow. They're in my mind, but I did not think these things on my own. They have simply been placed there. I know what the simulation wants me to know.
"I – I have a question." It's always been easier for me to ask questions than to provide answers.
"Do you have the answer?" says Maria more firmly.
I look back to the board. It makes no sense. Like the words of the newspaper, like the face of the child, it is all a blur. Trying to concentrate brings a wave of vertigo. All around me I feel those eyes judging me. What does this part of the test mean? What does any part of the test mean? So far I've gotten nothing that would be of any use to me in the real world.
"I – I…" I stammer, narrowing my eyes at the board. I can make it make sense, if I just think hard enough it will become clear. I mean, that doesn't make any sense but so far this whole test seems to be operating like a nightmare. What happens feels right, feels natural. That's what Maria said, I should just do what feels natural.
Well, this feels natural.
The web of letters and numbers on the board twists, reshapes, resolves into a different shape. A door.
When I reach out to touch that two-dimensional knob, it is enough to simply feel that it will be real enough to open.