Rowan
I am once again struck by how contrived Amity can be.
I'm given a new set of work clothes at the start of Orientation Week (new for me, anyway; there's a hole near the collar and one of the buttons is missing). But I can't complain. The material is warm flannel, useful for next season's harvest when Wade and I will be working long, chilly hours.
The new clothes are all the incentive we will receive to "work hard and prove the faction's worth" during the Week. Not that we need any: the threat of becoming factionless is incentive enough for all of us.
I spot a few Dauntless scanning the migrating crowd. Every faction keeps a few Dauntless for control purposes. Amity's guards try to keep themselves as inconspicuous as possible, but one can still glimpse a tattoo on a neck or arm every now and again.
I join the tide of yellow and red making their way to the orchards. I'll be hauling bales of apples today. There isn't much difference in the work I do, but I know my place and enjoy the physical labor.
The day is warm and bright, good for relaxing but poor for working. Within a matter of minutes, I am dripping with sweat. It's dangerous for me to be counting my work hours so early in the season, but I find myself already straining to catch the distant toll of Candor's bell beyond our acres.
The lunch bell rang throughout the orchard just as I heaved the last bale of apples onto the truck. I suddenly caught a clear, alto laugh, and as I turned, a small figure hopped down from a nearby tree.
The transformation was astonishing. Her once pale skin had tanned to a golden bronze, the dark veins almost completely hidden under a bright pink flush. Her hair was not black, as I'd originally thought, but the same rich dark brown as her eyes. As she unfastened the coil at her nape, loose curls fanned out behind her, catching the sun and shimmering with copper, gold, even hints of darkest purple.
She gave Heather a mischievous, deeply dimpled smile as she emptied a few apples from the folds of her work apron into waiting burlap. I mechanically took a few steps closer.
She had neatly mended a tear near the shoulder of her yellow hand-me-down with a row of tiny x-shaped stitches and curbed the large folds of the dress with a deep red sash.
The two set off for the Mess Hall. I followed in a stupor.
"Row. Hey, Row. Did you hear what I said?"
"Nah, he's daydreaming again. Who's the lucky girl?"
I laughed along with Heath, catching Wade by surprise, but he quickly regained his composure and repeated his question. Something about the Cave. This time, though, I didn't mind.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, grinning uncontrollably at the shock-turned-delight on their faces.
"Well, I'll be forsaken," said Wade with a laugh, thumping me on the back. He said something else, but I didn't hear. I was busy watching Heather explain the Cave to a pair of shining, overlarge eyes.