Rowan

Two pairs of tanned legs and dirty feet gently swayed from the hammock, facing into the clearing.

As I handed her one of the oranges from the picnic basket, I glanced down at her hands and was somehow, suddenly reminded of a time when they were bruised and bloody. I turned quickly to retrieve my own serving in order to hide my expression. The dog ran towards the lake, barking with excitement.

I waited until we'd settled into the hammock before I carefully began: "How has it been for you, your time here at Amity?"

She looked at me, recognizing immediately what I'd meant. She remained silent for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. I watched the dog splash around in the water, attempting to chase minnows.

"I have learned many things," she replied slowly, then shrugged and added, "I believe so, anyway." I waited for her to continue, now accustomed to the cadence of our exchanges. After a few minutes, she began.

"Before, I thought I knew all there was to know about people. How they became the way they are; why they choose to do the things they do…"

I shook my head in disgust. "Those people are monsters. They've been like that for as long as I can remember."

She gave a wan smile. "I was not talking about the Heads, nor about Raven. I was talking about my family."

We both gazed outward, afraid to meet the other's eye for fear of closing the door to the conversation. She continued haltingly.

"I wrongly thought their actions were about control—and, in a way, they were," she agreed quickly, before I could protest. "But it was more than that, too. My mother, in her own way, was protecting me in the only way she knew how, with the limitations placed upon her by generations before. I understand that now. How fear of the unknown can twist the ideals of a person. Of a society.

"Growing up was…difficult. We were ruled by expectation and anger and fear. Religion, even at best of times, can become an effective way to wield power under the guise of benevolent authority. I thought it was just my family who were this way, but then I came here. And now I see that power may take different forms, but is always universal in its ability to corrupt."

She sighed, shaking her head. "I cannot seem to forgive my family for the things they've done. I know it reflects badly on my morals. But I'm hopeful that if I am able to understand their viewpoint better, then perhaps one day, I may be able to."

I shook my head in anger. "They shouldn't be forgiven. Not if they haven't changed."

She started to nod, but stopped herself. "Forgiveness is rarely about the person receiving it. At this point, it would benefit me to learn how to forgive, for my own sake."

I thought for a moment. "Do you think we should forgive the Heads, then? I cannot see that they would ever change. But I suppose they are Amity, after all."

She gave a wan smile. "They are many things." She glanced at me before continuing, "There are many different facets to their personality. Amity is not one of them.

"To believe they are the way they are due to some inner insecurity, or some deep unhappiness, is a dangerous way of thinking. It absolves them of their responsibility, so that they may keep doing the same thing to others. And it allows the possibility that they can be reformed; that there's something that can be done to change them for the better."

"So how do we help them?"

"Only they can help themselves. But that is not something I place my hope on. I know people like them, and the ones I know are beyond help."

She shook her head, silent for a moment, then shrugged. "I think we all know this, but I suppose the harvest is more important. At the very least, I suppose we can try to trust them to make decisions for the good of the Faction."

"They can't be trusted at all."

She nodded. "That's why I stopped teaching Grace, and why I stopped seeing Heather. But you may not be entirely correct. After all, they can be trusted more than anyone. Give someone power, and they will show you exactly how desperate they are to keep it. Allow someone to test the limits of society, and they will show you exactly how much their society will allow."

She was quiet for a moment. "When I lived with my family, there was constant struggle. I learned to live within myself for many years. When I left—"

"During the choosing ceremony?"

She shook her head. "My spirit had left many years before that day. By the time my Choosing arrived, they knew that I would leave entirely, even if they wouldn't admit it to themselves. People like that, they don't change their ways until they see those around them start to slowly, quietly become more distant. I suppose that is the worst punishment for people like them. But it was difficult at first, very difficult. When they noticed that I was starting to leave, I had to face their wrath. I suppose we may have to do the same with the Heads, if the time comes. But it will be much more dangerous."

"Then how can we survive among them?"

She fidgeted, twisting her fingers, shaking her head. "There are some who can blend in so easily. They can look around and see and do as everyone else is. I've never been able to do that, I could never figure out how."

"My brother's like that."

She nodded slowly. "Mine, too."

I thought back to the stricter curfews; of the ever-increasing harvest quotas as of late. I thought of Egret eventually stepping down as President of the faction, to be replaced by Raven. I could feel the panic rising in my chest. "What do we do? What can we do?" My voice came out in a whisper.

She gazed out over the water, the meadow, at the gently swaying branches heavy with summer fruit. A cool breeze rustled the leaves above us and caused our hair to dance around our faces.

When she spoke, I heard the despair in her voice.

"I don't know, Rowan. I just don't know."