Divergent

Reading Order

AudioBooks

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1. Divergent

2. Insurgent

3. Allegiant

4. Four

5. The Sixth Faction

Bonus Chapters

Faction Histories

Introduction

Decades ago, our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world. Rather, they determined that it was the fault of human personality — of humankind’s inclination toward evil, in its many forms. They divided into five factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world’s disarray. Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life.

OUR MOTTO

“FACTION BEFORE BLOOD”

The phrase “faction before blood” was coined several decades after the factions were formed, but gained popularity quickly thereafter. Its origin is unknown, but it expresses one of our core beliefs: the faction is the most important social unit, more important even than family. Some factions choose to cultivate this belief in their social structure; others merely teach it. But every faction holds this phrase true.

Some have theorized that the phrase came from the Choosing Ceremony, in which a young person literally gives some of their blood to the faction, thus forsaking their blood relationship. Others postulate that the Choosing Ceremony was instituted after the phrase became popular. Either way, “faction before blood” is one of the most important sentences ever spoken.

ABNEGATION

THE SELFLESS

CORE BELIEF: “Them before I.”

VALUES

If asked, the Abnegation would insist that what they believe in, and the values they prize, are of little importance compared to what they think a person ought to do. Therefore, to say that the Abnegation value selflessness and self-denial is to fail to comprehend the faction as it comprehends itself.

Even the faction’s name furthers this attitude. Left to their own devices, the Abnegation chose a name that is closely related to a behavior, rather than a quality (Candor, Erudite, Dauntless), or a goal (Amity), emphasizing action rather than identity. Most of their teachings involve the how of behavior and very little of the why. Even the why that exists serves only to inform the how, and not to explain the faction to outsiders — or even to members. Every faction norm, including ritual, language, and style of dress, is designed to encourage acts of self-denial.

FACTON NORMS

Jobs

The most prominent role the Abnegation play in city life is in government. A council of Abnegation leaders makes all political decisions, and all projects that extend beyond the reach of a faction must be submitted to them for approval. The Abnegation can train to be elementary school teachers, nurses (with permission from Erudite leaders), firefighters (with permission from Dauntless leaders), morticians, or to do administrative tasks or “background work” in a variety of sectors. Additionally, they often choose to work among the factionless to improve quality of life.

Family Life

The Abnegation adhere as strictly as possible to the traditional family model: husband, wife, and two children. If an Abnegation member of marriageable age cannot find a spouse, the faction will find one for him or her. Remaining single is an option for those who do not wish to marry, but it is an option that necessarily excludes intimate companionship, and requires dedication to serving the community. Single or widowed individuals live in group housing, separated by gender.

Clothing

The official color of Abnegation is gray; therefore, their wardrobe consists entirely of gray clothing. Most of this clothing is loose, so as to preserve modesty and discourage ogling, and made of synthetic fabrics, because they are easy for the factionless to produce and always available. No adornments are allowed except for those that serve a practical purpose: rubber bands and clips to pull back loose hair, watches, spectacles, and so on. The rumor that the Abnegation wear an arm band specifically designed to induce discomfort is false, and in fact reveals the other factions’ lack of understanding of Abnegation teachings. (Constant discomfort would mean constant self-reflection, something the Abnegation discourage.)

Inter-Faction Relations

While the Abnegation would deny harboring resentment toward any other faction, it is well known that they exhibit an obvious distaste for Erudite. This is perhaps because they believe the Erudite lifestyle, which centers around the individual’s pursuit of knowledge, creativity, and innovation, is inherently selfish, or because of Abnegation’s discouragement of curiosity, something the Erudite promote among their members. The Abnegation have a particularly good relationship with Amity, and often work together on city improvement projects.

Choosing Ceremony Substance: STONES

The Abnegation view stone as the most useful and stable material available, since it forms our roads and the majority of our homes. Usefulness and stability are two qualities the Abnegation, in particular, appreciate. It also reflects the gray color of their faction, clothing, and even their sector of the city.

AMITY

THE PEACEFUL

CORE BELIEF: “Open arms, open eyes, forgiving hearts.”

VALUES

Amity is the only faction without a prized quality; rather, they define their most valued traits, peacefulness and harmony, as the absence of aggression. In order to achieve this lack of aggression, the Amity teach trust, forgiveness, self-sufficiency, and kindness. They believe in peaceful (and often public) conflict resolution, and emphasize joy, beauty, and celebration more than any other faction. Like the Erudite, they also value creativity, but for the sake of beauty rather than technological innovation.

FACTION NORMS

Jobs

Amity is the other “essential faction” because they produce all the food for the city. Almost all of their members are required for there to be enough food, so most Amity do not seek other employment. Within the food production realm, however, an Amity can specialize in livestock, large crops, specialty foods, water purification, or other areas. There are a handful of Amity counselors, mediators, and caretakers of the sick, mentally ill, and elderly. Artists, writers, and musicians emerge almost exclusively from Amity, but these are defined as hobbies rather than jobs.

Family Life

The Amity in particular believe in the value of different kinds of community. They seek to balance family relationships with friendships. Thus, most of the Amity live in large groups according to specialty. These large groups are often comprised of several traditional families and a few untraditional families (couples/partners without children, single people, et cetera). The large group therefore defines a person’s peer group, as well. All of the Amity eat together, though, so it is rare for one Amity to be unacquainted with another Amity, no matter how different their specialties are. The Amity believe strongly in communal living, such that they have no real leader, except the one they are forced to provide to advise the Abnegation political leaders.

Clothing

The colors of Amity are red and yellow (the colors most likely to produce joy), but they are less strict than other factions about how those colors must be worn. A person can wear blue jeans (like the Erudite) with a red shirt, or a black dress (like the Dauntless) with a red sweater—as long as one of the Amity colors is in some way represented, the outfit is considered acceptable. This often leads the Amity to be confused with the factionless.

Inter-Faction Relations

The Amity seek to establish good relationships with all other factions. Historically, most of their conflicts (if they can be called conflicts) have been with the Dauntless, due to their disagreements about conflict resolution. They have a special relationship with Erudite, as noted earlier, and with Candor and Abnegation, in the realm of religion.

Choosing Ceremony Substance: EARTH

Aside from working extensively with the earth, the Amity also value a connection with nature because they believe it can bring peace to their lives. Therefore giving your blood to the earth is a way of committing yourself to peace from your first moment as one of the Amity.

CANDOR

THE HONEST

CORE BELIEF: “Truth makes us inextricable.”

VALUES

To say the Candor value honesty is an understatement. They instruct their members to be as open as possible in all areas of life, whether in praise or criticism, through boasting or confession, by invitation or interruption. There is no such thing as “private life” among the Candor; everything is public, and everything is the business of the community.

Impartiality, though not as prominent in Candor teachings as openness, is regarded as equally important. When evaluating a situation, the Candor are encouraged to disregard their own feelings about the people involved. A Candor who sides with his enemy rather than his friend about a particular issue is regarded as honest and fair.

“The true Candor,” famous Candor leader Trevor Johnson once said, “is bold enough to be Dauntless, fair enough to be Amity, incisive enough to be Erudite, and wise enough to be Abnegation.”

FACTION NORMS

Jobs

The realm of the Candor is law. The Candor therefore receive extensive training in the laws that govern society as a whole, as well as the laws that govern each faction. Some Candor decide either to be judges or to represent either side of a trial. Others work as reporters.

Candor is the only faction that regularly cooperates with other factions in their everyday work. They advise Abnegation political leaders, Amity mediators and counselors, and Erudite teachers. They act in a leadership capacity in schools. They work with Amity to distribute goods fairly among the factions. Though their roles are less clearly defined than those of other factions, if they were to vanish from the city, the glue that binds us together would vanish with them, and we would undoubtedly be left in chaos.

The Candor pursuit of truth often leads them to work closely with the Abnegation and the Amity in the realm of religion. There are as many Candor religious leaders as there are Abnegation and Amity religious leaders.

Family Life

Because there is no private life among the Candor, families are not as important. Peer groups, rather than family groups, dominate Candor society. The parents’ responsibility is more protective than instructive. Children live with their parents until age ten, at which point they relocate to a dormitory until they turn sixteen and choose a faction. Young faction members also live in a dormitory until they find a spouse or partner and choose to live separately.

Clothing

Candor clothing is determined by color alone. They believe that the truth is black and white, so they wear black and white only, in any form, as long as both colors are represented. The Candor are less bold in their styling decisions than the Dauntless, but not nearly as conservative as the Abnegation.

Inter-Faction Relations

The Candor have a strained relationship with Amity (because “they will always lie to keep the peace,” as Trevor Johnson once said) and Erudite (because of “their talent for subterfuge and craftiness”). They work closely with the Abnegation in government, but often publicly criticize the Abnegation’s lack of openness. Faction transfers between Dauntless and Candor are common, however, so the factions are generally amicable toward each other.

Choosing Ceremony Substance: GLASS

The Candor selected glass for its transparency. A transparent person, they say, is an honest person.

DAUNTLESS

THE BRAVE

CORE BELIEF: “Freedom from fear.”

VALUES

Without hesitation, any Dauntless would say that what they most value is courage. It is when the word “courage” is defined that they begin to disagree with one another. One subset of Dauntless would define “courage” as “fearlessness,” and seeks to eradicate fear in all its forms among its members. Another subset would define “courage” simply as “boldness,” and emphasize action in spite of fear rather than the elimination of fear itself. This difference, though minor, often leads to conflict among the Dauntless, particularly in the area of initiating new members. Those Dauntless who emphasize fearlessness advocate harsher and more extreme methods of training, which boldness-emphasizing Dauntless call cruelty and bullying.

Common to all Dauntless is a commitment to bravery that supersedes all other considerations, including safety, the opinion of others, and sometimes even peace itself.

FACTION NORMS

Jobs

The primary role of the Dauntless is city security. This extends both outside the city (along the fence) and inside the city (on the streets), although the latter has become less prominent in recent years. This role also includes a physical presence (guards) as well as a technological presence (security monitoring). The majority of firefighters are also comprised of Dauntless, although the Abnegation often contribute a small number as well. Paramedics and construction workers who work on high-rise buildings are also Dauntless jobs. Apart from these public roles, however, the Dauntless are largely self-contained, so a large number of jobs are available within the Dauntless compound, including positions for nurses, cooks, tattoo artists, and trainers, among others.

Family Life

Dauntless families are diverse, so it is difficult to pin down exactly what the average Dauntless family looks like. Some families reside together in large apartments in the Dauntless compound, and include grandparents as well as parents and children. Blood ties are often not well-defined, so a Dauntless “aunt” or “uncle” may not be related by blood.

Marriage is a peculiar institution among the Dauntless, defined differently depending upon who is asked. Many Dauntless couples opt not to marry at all. Young Dauntless often live together (irrespective of gender) until they find a spouse or partner. But for every generalization about Dauntless families, there are half a dozen Dauntless families that contradict it.

Clothing

Black is the official color of Dauntless, which almost all Dauntless clothing reflects. Piercings and tattoos are common, as well as odd hairstyles and hair color. Due to their emphasis on physical fitness, most Dauntless prefer tight clothing to loose clothing. The Dauntless emphasize clothing style far more than any other faction, and those styles change too rapidly to be included in this textbook.

Inter-Faction Relations

Due to their reliance on surveillance and simulation technology, the Dauntless have developed a strong relationship with Erudite. The very nature of their training and jobs, however, puts them at odds with Amity, such that calling someone “Amity” is one of the worst insults a Dauntless can devise.

Choosing Ceremony Substance: FIRE

“Fire,” the Dauntless say, “can be destructive, but can also bring warmth and vitality — just like bravery.”

ERUDITE

THE INTELLIGENT

CORE BELIEF: “Knowledge eliminates conflict.”

VALUES

“Knowledge, understanding, and innovation” are the three areas of emphasis in Erudite.

“Knowledge” includes the accumulation of information, or, simply put, learning about everything.

“Understanding” involves putting that information to use, whether through the practice of medicine, scientific experiments, or the act of writing, among other things. Understanding in relationships is also something that the Erudite value. Conflicts are often resolved by the offended party receiving instruction about the offensive party, and vice versa, until both parties empathize with each other.

“Innovation” requires a person to take their understanding and knowledge and push it beyond its original borders to create something new.

The Erudite also teach their members to develop curiosity, and to obey its impulses.

FACTION NORMS

Jobs

Erudite is one of the two “essential factions,” that is, the factions without which our basic needs would not be met. They are our doctors, scientists, and teachers. Though we often think of a scientist as someone in a lab coat, the Erudite include titles like sociologist, psychologist, and mathematician in the “scientist” category.

Often those Erudite who lose their dexterity or have trouble interacting with others will choose to be researchers, and aid in important discoveries in medicine or technology. The “Low IQ” Erudite (those Erudite who scored the lowest on their initiation intelligence tests upon completing initiation) work as technicians or laboratory assistants.

Family Life

The Erudite believe that the traditional family unit is the most practical while children are young; however, they do not see the logic of marriage, so “couples” are bound only by their children, and sometimes do not live together. The most important relationship in Erudite is the mentor/mentee relationship, which a child often finds with one of his or her parents, but not exclusively. Some Erudite children live with their aunts and uncles, or older siblings.

Clothing

The Erudite wear blue — with the rationale that blue induces calm, and a calm mind is an absorptive one — and place almost no emphasis on clothing style. Pockets are seen as particularly useful, so it is rare to find an article of Erudite clothing without them. Spectacles are seen as a sign of intelligence, so many Erudite without vision-correction needs will wear glasses regardless.

Inter-Faction Relations

The Erudite have a strong relationship with the other “essential faction,” Amity, because the Amity require technology to make their food production more efficient. They have a similar relationship with Dauntless, as noted earlier. The Erudite frequently criticize the Abnegation for being “illogically selfless and inefficient,” particularly in the realm of government. Some selfishness, they argue, is necessary for an individual to live a fruitful life.

Choosing Ceremony Substance: WATER

While the Erudite traditionally reject symbolism as illogical and unnecessary, they chose water because it has knowledge’s clarity — it is intelligible to all who seek it — and weight — it is of utmost importance.

_______________________________

THE FACTIONLESS

Those who fail to complete initiation into their chosen faction, or choose to leave their factions for whatever reason, become factionless. They live without support from their fellow factionless, and without community. They have high levels of crime, suicide, and physical and mental illness.

Factionless parents are legally required to turn over their children to the government as soon as they are born so that every child is given the same opportunity to participate in and choose a faction. The children are temporarily housed in the Abnegation sector, but they can ultimately be adopted by members of other factions (though most remain in Abnegation). This mandate is difficult to enforce, however, so the children of the factionless often remain factionless themselves.

Though factionlessness is not necessary, it seems to be inevitable. Therefore we have developed a way of making factionlessness as useful as possible. The factionless perform important functions such as train and bus operation, textile production, janitorial duties, maintenance, and some construction work. We believe this restores some of the sense of purpose that these persons have lost by living without a faction.

Alternate Beginning

I WENT THROUGH four beginnings in Insurgent before I found the right one. This was probably my favorite, taking place a little while after the Dauntless attack simulation, when Tobias and Tris are starting to get restless in the Amity compound. Ultimately I decided I didn’t want a break in time between the end of Divergent and the beginning of Insurgent; I wanted the stories to be continuous, which is how they felt in my mind, so I started the book with our heroes jumping off a train (a far more appropriate beginning for them, I think). But there is something about this quiet start that I still like, because it feels like Amity does: peaceful, but with the sense that this is just the eye of the storm, and something bad is still on its way.

***

I wake with his name in my mouth.

Will.

There are so many faces that I should see in my nightmares, but for the past few weeks, it has only been him. I watch him crumple to the pavement every night. Dead. My doing.

It is not night now, though. It is midafternoon. I hear insects buzzing in the distant trees. Warm metal touches the back of my skull and my knees, the rails of the train tracks.

The trains haven’t run since the simulation attack. I take that as a good sign. If the trains were running, that would mean that some order has returned to the city behind us, and the only order that is possible right now is the kind we would find under Erudite control. As long as the trains are still, everyone’s minds are their own. It is consolation enough.

On my right are Tobias’s denim-covered legs. He lies with his head on the other rail, his eyes closed. He wears Abnegation gray, because we didn’t bring any clothes with us when we escaped the Dauntless compound. I barely notice it most of the time. The color looks right on him.

I think he’s asleep, but he takes my wrist and sits up, looking down at me. Sweat runs down the side of his face, making it shine.

“You okay?” he says.

I sit up too, massaging my aching neck. “Yeah. Why?” I sound too defensive. He’ll know I’m trying to hide something.

Or maybe he’s gotten so used to deceit in my voice that he won’t notice. I lie to him all the time now.

“You cried out,” he says. “If you’re screaming in your sleep, Tris, you aren’t okay.”

I have two dead parents, I killed one of my best friends, and Tobias, one of the only people I have left, has barely touched me since he told me he loved me and I didn’t say it back. If okay exists, it is not this.

“I’m fine,” I say. “All right?”

He nods, and releases my wrist.

“We should go back soon,” he says, standing. He wipes his face with the hem of his shirt. I catch a glimpse of the patch of Dauntless flames tattooed on his side, over his rib cage. He may wear Abnegation clothing now, but he will always be Dauntless; it’s written on his skin, like it’s written on mine.

“Trains are still out of commission,” he adds. “That’s good.”

We talk this way a lot now—short sentences, nothing deep or profound. It isn’t because there’s nothing to talk about. It’s just the opposite. There is too much to talk about, so we don’t. We spend hours together without conversation.

I twist around to see the skyline. All the buildings are covered with the haze of too much distance, but I can still see the Hub’s two prongs stabbing the sky. I feel a pang of something—sadness, maybe, or longing—in my stomach. I want to go back. I have to go back.

“I won’t be able to stand it here for much longer,” I say.

“I won’t either.”

I know that. We were both built for war. The worse things are, the stronger we are. Hiding in the peace of the Amity compound, we are both weak. Useless.

He offers me his hand. “Come on. Time to go.”

I put one hand on the rail and grab his hand with the other. But before I let him pull me up, I pause, frowning. The rail hums beneath my hand. I hold it tightly, my lips moving in a prayer with words I don’t know. Please, is all I can think. I don’t know who I’m begging, or what exactly I’m begging them for.

Trains mean order. Order means Erudite. Maybe I am asking for chaos.

I turn so I’m on my knees, and press my ear to the rail, closing my eyes. I hear a low groan in the metal, like a beast waking after hibernation. It is unmistakable.

The trains are running again.

Deleted Scene

Tris and Tobias Break Up

In all the early drafts of Insurgent, Tris and Tobias broke up for a period in the middle of the story, leaving her very isolated—many of her friends or family are either dead or gone at this point, and without Tobias, she spent a lot of scenes alone and trying to find new friends. I liked watching Tris find a community separate from him, and letting them go in two different directions, but ultimately I realized that I was breaking them up because I didn’t know what to do with them, and that didn’t feel right. Instead I chose to let them start making different choices and moving in different directions, but to keep them together, in conflict, fighting as hard as they could to navigate their relationship in the midst of so much turmoil. It was more interesting to me that way, and it felt more like something they would do. Sometimes it’s tempting to do things with characters that feel easy and familiar—a breakup, for me, is one of those things—when you’re just figuring out a draft, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good decision for the characters or the story, and that’s something I realized here.

***

I return to my cot early that morning, and Tobias is already awake. I do not say anything, and neither does he. He turns and walks toward the elevators, and I follow him, because I know that’s what he wants. We stand in the elevator, side by side, in silence. I hear ringing in my ears and blame it on my lack of sleep, but I think it’s more that everything is about to fall apart and I know it.

The elevator sinks to the second floor, and I start to shake. It starts with my hands, but travels to my arms and my chest, until little shudders go through my entire body and I have no way to stop them. Outside the elevators, we stand right above another Candor symbol, the uneven scales. That symbol is also drawn on the middle of his spine.

He doesn’t look at me for a long time. He stands with his arms crossed and his head down until I can’t stand it anymore, until I feel like I might scream. I should say something, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t apologize, because I only told the truth, and I can’t change the truth into a lie. I can’t give excuses.

“So you killed Will.”

Hearing him say it makes me feel the weight of it. Guilt is heavier than grief, almost heavier than I can bear. “Yes,” I say.

“All those nightmares you were having... were they about him?” His voice is quiet and under control. I know better than to think that’s a good sign.

I nod, once. “Most of them.”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Here I was thinking I wasn’t just ‘anyone’ to you,” he says. He laughs harshly. “Guess not.”

He isn’t yelling, but he is on the verge of it, his voice quaking with the effort of keeping it under control. He glares at me, and in his stare is an accusation, but I don’t know what he’s accusing me of. Lying? Keeping things from him? Murdering one of my friends? Not being in love with him?

I don’t know where the anger comes from, because a few seconds ago, I was terrified of losing him. But my face is boiling hot, and the creature that has been clawing at my chest since Will died gnashes its teeth.

“I’m sorry, was I inconsiderate?” I say. “How terrible of me, not to think of your feelings when both my parents are dead and I can’t sleep without nightmares about armies of mindless Dauntless and almost drowning in a glass box and shooting my friend in the head!”

“Don’t even pretend that I am being petty,” he snaps. “You know as well as I do that this is just the start of the things that you lie to me about.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I—”

“You didn’t lie to me? Every time that I asked you what was wrong and you made up an excuse, every time that you crawled into my bed and pretended you were just grieving for your parents, those weren’t lies?”

“I’ve known you for weeks,” I say hotly, “not months. Not years. Weeks. I don’t have to tell you everything, Tobias!”

“You don’t have to, no,” he says. All the anger goes out of his voice like air from a deflating balloon, and he gives me a weary look. “The fact that you don’t want to, though—”

“I didn’t want to tell you one thing,” I say. “That’s hardly indicative of a pattern!”

“You didn’t want to tell me about the water tank,” he says. “You never wanted to tell me about your parents. We haven’t had an honest conversation in weeks. Not since I had to pressure you to talk to me about your fear landscape.”

I have nothing to say to that, because I know that he’s right.

“I am grieving,” I say flatly. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had to before.”

“Aren’t you listening to me?” he asks, scowling. “I’m telling you this has nothing to do with your parents’ deaths, or Will’s death, or the attack. I’m telling you that you have been like this since I met you; you have always been like this.”

My lips part to release a word, but nothing comes.

“You are impenetrable,” he says. “And I can’t do this anymore.”

Can’t do this. I try to force the words into my mind so that I understand what they mean, but they float around, detached from sense and logic. I hear the sound of them, feel their shape in my head, but I can’t make sense of them.

And then I do.

“This isn’t about me,” I say. My voice gets louder, straining to be heard even though we are in an empty room. “Don’t make it seem like it is! This is about you, and how you can’t take that I didn’t profess my undying love for you after a few weeks of dating. This is about your unreasonable expectations—not about me!”

“Maybe it is,” he says calmly. “Can you blame me? I thought, when you almost died for me, that it was a sign. A sign that you felt the same way about me that I did about you. So I told you. I was honest with you.” He shakes his head. “And today I find out that you didn’t hand over the gun because you cared about me. You did it because you believed it was the right thing. You did it out of duty.”

“I saved your life,” I almost choke.

“Sacrifice with no feeling behind it is empty,” he says. “Useless. Meaningless.”

“You’re unreasonable,” I say. “Unreasonable to expect me to have strong feelings for you after such a short period of time, and unreasonable to expect me to do the right things with the perfect intentions.”

“You can’t even see yourself!” He presses a hand to his forehead. “You’re arguing with me about the logic of what I’m saying. You’re angry because you don’t think my reasons make sense. You aren’t upset. You aren’t heartbroken. You’ll be just fine without me.”

I feel like my brain is stuck in one place, on one word—impenetrable.

“I can’t be with someone who is the same with me as she is without me,” he says.

“But I...” My throat feels tight, and there are a thousand things I want to say. I want to tell him that I do need him, that I wouldn’t have made it through the last few weeks without him. I want to tell him that I think I will love him, when the haze of guilt and grief lifts from my life. But I just stare at him, my heart pounding in my ears, thinking that he called me impenetrable; he called my sacrifice meaningless. He thinks I’m cold. Like Eric. Like Jeanine. Like an Erudite.

And I can’t tell him I need him. The thought makes me feel sick, like the day I had to walk into the cafeteria with my head down after Peter attacked me.

“That’s what I thought,” he says.

Pride is the flaw in every Dauntless heart.

And it is in mine.

Evelyn's Speech to the Factionless

FACTIONLESS GATHERING,

FIVE YEARS BEFORE THE EVENTS OF DIVERGENT

“WELCOME. WELCOME, EVERYONE.

“I must ask you to look around you. No, I mean it—go ahead and look.

“Standing to your left is someone an Erudite would call an aberration. Standing to your right is someone an Abnegation would call a charity case. Behind you is someone an Amity would look at with pity. In front of you is someone a Candor or a Dauntless would ignore completely.

“All around you there are people who couldn’t cut it in a faction’s initiation, couldn’t cut it as a faction member—people who failed, in one way or another, to meet the expectations of their society. This is a room full of failures.

“Right? Isn’t that what we’ve been told?

“They tell us, in this city, that those who live outside of the factions are weaker than those who live inside them. They tell us that their society is a well-oiled machine that runs perfectly as long as everyone participates. They tell us that the system will help us to grow into morally superior people, to become who we need to be. And they also tell us—most heinously of all—that they have given us a choice.

“I am here today to tell you that they are liars. They have been lying to you all your lives. If you are so weak, why does this city make you its backbone? Why does it depend on you to drive its trains and its buses, to maintain its facilities and equipment, to create the very fabric—the literal fabric—of its existence? If you are such failures, then why does the system depend on your failure in order to function? A system that cannot survive without the exclusion of some of its members is not a well-oiled machine; it is broken.

“It is broken, and the illusion of choice that it offers you is no choice at all. Choosing a faction is like choosing death by knife, gun, or hanging—the result is the same no matter what method you use.

“But in this case, the result isn’t death of the body; it’s death of the soul—death of the individual’s richness and complexity, the very things that make people worth loving, worth being. When you were asked to choose a faction, you were asked to disappear, piece by piece, until only a shadow of you was left. That shadow may have worn your clothes and kissed your spouse good-bye and performed the work to which you were assigned, but it was not you; it could never have been you.

“When they look at you, they may see someone who has faded away, but that is a lie. Let me tell you the truth: You are the ones who were unwilling to fade away. You are the ones who were brave, honest, kind, selfless, or smart, and more than any of those things, more than any words can describe.

“And the people who keep that pathetic, broken machine running know this. On some level they sense that you are far greater, far larger, far more powerful than they can possibly imagine. That is why they starve you, deprive you of homes and clean clothing and representation in government. They want you to be silent, and weak, and desperate. Since they can’t control you with the system, they want to control you with distraction. They want you to be so busy thinking of your next meal that you aren’t thinking about what has been done to you. They want you to feel that you are utterly and completely alone.

“But you are not failures, and you are not alone. Those who are gathered in this room are not your fellow faction members, wasting away in self-denial—they are your brothers and sisters, your dearest friends, your fellow soldiers. Let us be knit together, not by commitment to empty ideals, to a narrow existence, but by our thirst for a better life.

“It is time to fight. If we are desperate, let it be for an end to this broken system, no matter the cost. If we hunger, let it be for freedom from the factions. And if we are silent, let it be for only a moment as we draw breath for our battle cry.”

Faction Playlist

DAUNTLESS

Dauntless songs capture both the faction’s bravado (and occasional cockiness!) as well as their commitment to taking chances, facing difficulty, and living without regret.

“Glory and Gore” by Lorde
“Hysteria” by Muse
“Help I’m Alive” by Metric

______________________________

AMITY

These songs approach the Amity lifestyle from a few different angles—their compassion for each other, for one; their love of group decision-making and harmony, for another; and finally, their strong belief in pacifism.

“No Envy, No Fear” by Joshua Radin
“One Voice” by The Wailin’ Jennys
“Charlie Boy” by The Lumineers

______________________________

ABNEGATION

Abnegation is the trickiest faction to create a playlist for, probably because they would consider recreational music-listening to be self-indulgent! But these songs assert the smallness of the self and praise ordinariness.

“Holocene” by Bon Iver
“My Hero” by Foo Fighters
“Goodbye, I!” by mewithoutYou

______________________________

CANDOR

The Candor embrace honesty even when it’s abrasive—they love the hard truth rather than the easy lie. These songs present Candor self-awareness, revelations about life, and harsh but clear communication with others, in turn.

“Madder Red” by Yeasayer
“Wake Up” by Arcade Fire
“Two Points for Honesty” by Guster

______________________________

ERUDITE

There are many facets to the Erudite life: a love of order (as expressed in the first song); an understanding that the individual is both essential to a group’s functioning yet not more important than that group (the second song); and a sense of wonder about all that is to be known about the universe, and how that wonder creates a thirst for knowledge (the third song, and parts of the second).

“Everything in Its Right Place” by Radiohead
“Helplessness Blues” by Fleet Foxes
“2-1” by Imogen Heap

______________________________

FACTIONLESS

The factionless come from diverse backgrounds, but one thing unifies them above all: rebellion. These are people who don’t want to be controlled anymore, who want to be more than their label, and who desire freedom above all else.

“Uprising” by Muse
“I Want to Break Free” by Queen
“Escape” by Thirty Seconds to Mars

Deleted Scene

Fear Number Tattoos

This scene takes place right before Tris, Tobias, and the others leave the city for the outside world. In it, Tori has gathered a group of Dauntless to commemorate their old faction by getting tattoos of their original “fear numbers,” defying the new factionless regime. I cut it to resolve some pacing issues, but initially I wrote it because it establishes so many characters and dynamics and emotions in such a short space, and it’s the last hurrah of Dauntless, sort of bookending the series. You may recognize bits of it—some of the information in this passage is now sprinkled throughout Allegiant. —Veronica Roth

______________________________

TRIS

TORI, WHO IS carrying a small cardboard box, sets it down and climbs onto one of the tables. Then she holds up a hand for silence. It comes in bits and pieces.

“I called this meeting partly to stick it to Evelyn Johnson—”

Cheering.

“—and partly for another reason.”

She reaches into the box at her feet and takes out a tattoo needle.

“To create something that binds us all together.” She holds the needle in both hands, as gently as she would hold a child.

***

The Dauntless cycle through the lines quickly. Time wears on, and as it does, I become more and more aware of what we are going to do tonight. Leave the city. Break the law. Maybe never return. Find the world outside. Hear the answers to all our questions.

Are we really just an experiment? How long have you been out there? Have you been watching us? What do you want from us?

And for me, the most important one: Who is Edith Prior?

Christina returns from the tattoo line with a number 13 on her arm. I notice a few tiny shapes floating over the 3, and she gives me a wicked smile.

“Moths,” she explains. “Tough as cotton balls, right?”

I laugh. and then I wonder if it’s all right to laugh, because that’s what Will said to her when he found out she was afraid of moths. But I guess that, after someone dies, what’s all right to feel is whatever you do feel. And Christina is still smiling.

“Feels good to think about it,” she says as she sits on my other side. “You know?”

I nod, and even though I’m a Stiff and I don’t do this sort of thing, I grab her hand and squeeze it.

Tobias and I stand in Bud’s line, and Shauna maneuvers her wheelchair to Tori’s line, ahead of Zeke. I check my watch. We only have a few hours until we set our escape plan in motion—I didn’t intend to spend those hours waiting for a tattoo, but maybe that’s just the way it’s going to be.

“I’m really going to miss this place,” I say.

“Really?” He shrugs. “My thoughts are more like, ‘Good riddance.’”

“There’s nothing you’ll miss? No good memories?” I elbow him.

“Fine. There are a few.” He smiles.

“Any that don’t involve me?" I say. “That sounds really self-centered. You know what I mean.”

“Sure. I guess.” Tobias shrugs. “I mean, I got to have a different life here, a different name, even. Here I was always Four, thanks to my initiation instructor. He came up with the nickname.”

“The legendary Four,” I say with a flourish of my hand.

“Indeed.” He spreads his arms wide. “And how fortunate you are to bask in my presence.”

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow.

“Why haven’t I met this initiation instructor?”

“Because he’s dead.” Tobias says “dead” like it’s just another word, but his eyes find mine and I can tell this is anything but a casual topic. “Amar was Divergent.”

I touch his arm, lightly, but there isn’t much to say. He shifts like he’s uncomfortable.

“See?” he says. “Too many bad memories here. I’m ready to leave.”

We are quiet for a while, and it feels comfortable, which is a strange thing for me. Usually silence is charged with all the words a person isn’t saying, or can’t find a way to say, but with him, I feel like my presence is enough, like his presence is enough.

We move closer and closer to the tattoo needles, and when we’re a few feet away, Tori says without lifting her head, “You two, get in my line instead.”

I feel nervous, but I don’t want her to know that I’m afraid of her, so I do what she says.

I go before Tobias, and when Tori finishes with the Dauntless woman in front of me, she curls her finger at me. “You’re up.”

She is switching out the old needle for a new one and preparing a new batch of ink. Her hands are bare and small, steadier than any hands I’ve ever seen. They almost seem to rest on top of the air like it’s a table, motionless.

I sit in front of her.

“You can come closer, you know,” she says. “I won’t bite." She tilts her head. “Oh, wait. I have done that, haven’t I?”

I scoot closer.

“I know your upper arm is already taken, so you can choose a different place,” she says, and her voice is unexpectedly soft. Her eyes, which curve gently down at the edges, find mine.

“Okay,” I say.

“Your number?” she says. “Or your best approximation of it?”

My fear number, when I went through my fear landscape during initiation, was seven. But am I afraid of the same things now that I was when I was an initiate? Am I still afraid of being responsible for my family’s deaths when they’re already gone? Am I still afraid of being with Tobias, in that way?

“If you’re having trouble, think of the tattoo as a memory of your fears as a Dauntless initiate,” Tori says. “The number can change, but the memory will always be the same, and that’s what you’re recording, not your fear count.”

That makes it easier. “My number was seven.”

I offer my arm to her, and she cleans my forearm with antiseptic, then touches the needle to my skin. I am used to the prick of the needle and the stinging pain that makes my eyes water. I don’t even have to look away this time. I just watch the needle move, and her hand wiping the excess ink, and my skin turning red around it. I still don’t like the buzzing sound it makes—it’s like a swarm of bees.

“Apparently you didn’t need Jeanine to be alive after all,” Tori says quietly. “You didn’t need her to be alive in order to get the video shown.”

“I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Or a part of you didn’t want to know. Wanted to keep her alive.”

“I’m glad she’s dead.”

“Hmm”

“Hey,” I say harshly, so she pauses, lifts the needle. “I hated her. I’m glad she’s dead. You’re not the only one she stole people from, so stop acting like it.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead she goes back to the tattoo, tracing each line, filling in the space between them. When she finishes, the skin around the number 7 is bright red, but it doesn’t hurt that much. She bandages it, and I realize that the room has gone quiet. Bud is putting away his supplies, and Tobias, standing behind me, is the last one in line. The silence is for him.

______________________________

TOBIAS

“WE ALL KNOW your number, Tobias Eaton,” Tori says.

I still feel a prickle of fear whenever someone says my name out loud, like it’s a forbidden word. For a long time it belonged only to me, until I gave it to Tris, but then the Candor wrenched it from me with their truth serum, and now it belongs to everyone.

My shirt has long sleeves that are tight around the wrist, so I pull one up as far as it will go—to my elbow—and sit, offering my blank skin for her to mark. I am already warm with embarrassment, standing in this room that shouldn’t be silent but is. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t remember putting a tattoo on your arm,” she says, slapping my upper arm lightly. “Come on, let them all see the fine work I did on your back.”

She asked me, once, why l got so many tattoos if I was always going to keep them covered, even in the heat of summer when most Dauntless wear as little clothing as possible. I didn’t give her a reason, but I still remember it—I wanted the tattoos to cover all the places he hurt me, the back that bore the belt and the side that bore the fist.

A lot of people hate scars, but before I joined Dauntless, I had always wished that I had some. I wanted to have some kind of reminder that while wounds heal, they don’t disappear forever—we carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of things, the way of scars. So I got the tattoos instead.

And I hid them, because I didn’t want these people to see those wounds, even if they wouldn’t know what they were looking at.

I curl my fingers around the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. I sit up straight, my back to the room, the flames on my side expanding and contracting with my hurried breaths. Tori cleans the skin on my arm, and I feel like their stares are the flames, and my skin heats up more for every second they spend looking at me.

They are silent while she draws the number, and at first I feel like their silence is cruel, like it scrutinizes me. But as she draws the last lines on me, I realize that the Dauntless shout when they feel camaraderie, and they are silent when they feel respectful. To them I am still the man with only four fears.

I stare down at the 4 as she covers it with a bandage, and I realize that this, unlike the other tattoos, is something I am proud to carry everywhere, proud even to carry outside the fence, to whatever will come next.

Natalie's Journals

The Lost Entries

The following journal entries were discovered in the Prior house after the Erudite attack on Abnegation. Most are from Natalie Prior’s early life, but the last one, mysteriously addressed to “David,” is dated just a day before the attack occurred.

WEEK 49 • • THURSDAY NIGHT

I’m pretty sure David won’t be interested in hearing about this, so I’m going to put it in my private journal instead of the official record.

Today I stayed after school to tutor Andrew, like I have for the past few weeks as we get ready for our psychology exam. We were going over the evidence for and against biological explanations for personality traits as opposed to experimental explanations such as parenting, history, and stuff. I remember that because I was arguing for the latter and he was arguing for the former—it’s just like an Erudite to get all caught up in biology, really—and I was really close to spilling the secret, the secret.

I asked him if he thought the faction system could just be a way to condition people to have certain personality traits—like behavioral modification. He said the factions were more likely to be a way of grouping people with similar genetic material—that our personalities are determined more by our genes than by what we’re taught. He’s such an Erudite. He kept using words like “thus” and “therefore,” and every time he did I made a face at him. It took a few times for him to know that he should laugh. Anyway, then I trapped him, and I asked him why, if personalities are genetically determined, children of the same parents have different personalities. He stared at me, and he started to get that creeping red blotch on his cheeks that he always gets when he’s sort of embarrassed. I watched him scramble for an answer, and his hair fell out of its slick style and over his forehead, and strangely, I felt like I had to stop myself from pushing it back, like I almost had to grab my own hand to keep myself from doing it.

He came up with an answer—something about how if children can inherit different eye colors from their parents, they can also inherit different personality traits. But I wasn’t really listening. I was just staring at his hair and wondering when it happened, when I started to want to touch him.

WEEK 49 • • FRIDAY NIGHT

We stayed after school for tutoring again today, even though the exam was this morning. We brought our books even though there wasn’t anything to do. I think we still felt like we needed an excuse. People don’t just mingle outside their factions for no good reason.

I felt this itch in my fingers to do something, and the sun was reflecting off his glasses so I couldn’t see his eyes. On an impulse I reached forward and took them off his face. I guess I’d never noticed before how blue his eyes were, bright like the shirt he was wearing. He just stared at me, but not like he thought I was crazy, more like he was just curious.

He asked me why I had spoken so passionately the day before about parents and how personalities are determined. I hadn’t realized that I had been “passionate,” but it felt strange, realizing that he had noticed something about me. That maybe he had been watching me as carefully as I watched him.

I told him that my parents had been violent people, but I didn’t turn out that way. He seemed confused—I’m Dauntless, after all, and we tend to be a violent bunch. But we aren’t all the same, and I told him that, too. I remember what he said in response:

“Still, if you didn’t turn out that way, you neither learned from their behavior nor inherited their genetic predisposition toward violence, which means you’ve confounded both theories.”

I smiled a little, but I didn’t feel much like smiling. I felt like every muscle in my body was coiled up tight.

Then he said—how could I forget?—“I’m not surprised. You confound me all the time.”

He touched my face, running his index finger over the piercings in my ear, and he pushed his hand into my hair. Then he leaned in close and kissed me.

The Dauntless are all about taking action, but I swear, in that moment, I couldn’t move a muscle. All I could do was run through the sensations in my mind to seal them in my memory. How gentle and curious his fingers were as they danced over my ear. How his hands smelled like apple-scented soap and ink. How orange-red-yellow the light in the room was because the sun was setting.

When I finally opened my eyes, I felt like I had made the moment permanent in my mind.

He started to get blotchy again, so I told him not to overthink it. He just laughed.

WEEK 50 • • MONDAY NIGHT

Today, when Andrew and I were on our way out of the school, he looked around to make sure no one was watching, then hooked his index finger around mine as we walked to the train tracks. Then, when the train horn sounded in the distance, he kissed me again, and stood back as I jumped on.

He’s not the first boy I’ve kissed. But it’s like everything is new, like I’m a new person here.

It’s just a few weeks until the Choosing, and I’m supposed to pick Erudite anyway, according to David’s instructions. Maybe it’ll be all right, if Andrew is there. Maybe I can make it through initiation if I have his help.

I feel stupid even saying this, but that’s why I’m going to say it here, in this private spot where no one else can hear it.

I feel like I’m in love.

WEEK 52 • • TUESDAY NIGHT

I don’t know what to do.

Andrew came to me yesterday in a panic, wild-eyed like I’d never seen him before. He wasn’t even wearing his glasses. He told me that he had seen something terrible—one of his peers was doing some kind of cruel experiment under the supervision of an Erudite leader, her mentor. His mentor.

“I can’t choose Erudite,” is what he kept saying, and he kept shaking his head, too, like it was on a swivel.

“I know,” is all I could think to say. “But where can you go?”

There were only three options, as far as he was concerned: Amity, Abnegation, or Candor.

“You can’t be Candor, you’re too private,” I told him. “And you can’t be Amity, either, because you care too much about taking action.”

He looked startled. I guess I would have been startled too if some girl I’d only known for a few months, only kissed a few times, assessed me like that. Like it’s easy to label a person. Smart, private, handsome.

That left Abnegation. Narrowing it down to that faction seemed to steady him a little.

I got so sad, looking at him, like the little balloon that had begun to inflate inside me since he had kissed me was deflating. Or like I was a flower, wilting. I am supposed to join Erudite. To sidle up to whoever is killing the Divergent. To stop them.

That means that if I follow my mission, Andrew and I will be separated by the walls that divide the factions.

He must have seen the sadness in my face, because his wild look went away and he took my hands in his. He told me he shouldn’t even say it, but that I could join Abnegation with him, that we would be safe there. Happy. A second later he took it back, reminded me that I had to make my own choice, that I shouldn’t think of him.

But I can’t help it.

WEEK 52 • • LATER TUESDAY NIGHT

He said we would be safe in Abnegation. My whole life I’ve wanted to be safe. I did things I shouldn’t have in an attempt to make myself safe, but safety had eluded me anyway.

I’ve always watched the Abnegation every morning at school, how they slipped along the sides of the halls and sat quietly at lunch, how a small group of them sat on the steps every morning to help one another with homework. The Dauntless around me called them dull, but to me they always looked like they were floating on clouds. I guess having a distinct sense of purpose can do that to you, whereas the Dauntless are just restless, prone to bursts of restless action.

I would choose Abnegation, if I could, even if Andrew wasn’t choosing it too. But I have a mission. I can’t lose sight of it.

And now it’s three in the morning and I can’t sleep. I told myself when I came here that I wouldn’t be taken in by the faction system. That I ought to maintain my distance from it. But I can feel the magic of it here, the options laid out in front of me—not so many that I feel overwhelmed, not so few that I feel stifled. And worse are the people who believe in those options, believe they are a way not just to live but to thrive.

I could thrive in Abnegation. And I’ve never been able to choose safety for myself. Now I’m not allowed to even when it’s right in front of me. Even though this life is mine and I’m the only one who has to live it.

It’s a lot to think about.

WEEK 52 • • FRIDAY AFTERNOON

My Dauntless mother sat me down at the kitchen table today, and she was doing that thing she always does when she’s nervous, flipping her septum piercing up into her nostrils and then down again.

She told me she saw my preliminary simulation results. She said she knew I was Divergent, and that in Dauntless, the Divergent tended to die without warning. She said that if I wanted to stay safe, I should choose another faction.

There’s that word again, “safe.” The truth is, I wouldn’t be any safer in Erudite as a Divergent than I would be in Dauntless. That leaves me with the same choices Andrew had: Amity, Abnegation, or Candor.

Is it cowardly to choose safety over my mission? To choose love over my mission?

Or is it brave, to choose the life I want instead of the life I feel obligated to live?

WEEK 53 • • SUNDAY MORNING

Yesterday I chose Abnegation. David isn’t happy; no one over there is. But I am. I’m happy.

We waited for everyone else to walk out of the Choosing Ceremony and then we cleaned up after them, emptied all the bowls, careful of the broken glass in the Candor bowl and the hot coals in the Dauntless one. Then all the initiates had a meal together, each one serving the person on his or her left. I gave Andrew extra butter on his bread.

Then there was the foot-washing. I thought it would be awkward and gross, having a stranger touch my feet. But there were lit candles all around, so the room glowed orange, and everything was quiet except for the splashing of water and the humming of the woman in front of me.

And no, it wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’ve ever done, but I just focused on the ritual of it. Hundreds of Abnegation had done that exact same thing at that exact same stage in their lives. Someday, I knew, if I lasted that long, I would do it for some initiates myself. Maybe even to my children. And it felt weighty, when I thought about it that way, and important, like something holy.

They told us to expect thirty days of service. Serving the poor, serving the rich, serving our elders, serving one another. Then they taught us the Abnegation manifesto, modest and brief as it is, and I had it memorized by the second run-though. We all chanted it, quietly, so the room was full of whispers. Then the girls went to a dormitory in Abnegation headquarters and the boys went to another.

The girls there stared openly at my tattoos when I changed into my gray Abnegation shirt. Most of them are Abnegation, and they’ve never seen a Dauntless up close. Some are Amity, too. But there was one Erudite girl, and she asked me about it as I took out my lip piercing for good.

“You transferred from Dauntless? That’s rare,” she said. I had already decided I liked her right away, just because of the way her limbs seemed to smack into everything when she walked, and because of her wild hair. Evelyn was her name.

“I know,” I said. “So is transferring from Erudite.”

She asked me what I thought so far. I told her everything seemed good, because the other girls were listening and I didn’t want to say all the things I was thinking—that yes, Abnegation’s way of life was peaceful and beautiful, but I was nervous about it. Afraid, not of danger or death, but of boredom.

Maybe she understood what I was thinking, because she leaned in close so she could keep her voice down and said, “Not so exciting, is it? But we didn’t choose this for the constant thrills, right?”

I nodded. She smiled and started to braid her hair. I lay back in bed. The window next to my bed was open, so I fell asleep to the feeling of the cool air rushing over my toes.

Evelyn is right. I didn’t choose Abnegation for the constant thrills. I chose it because it was the only guarantee of living a good life. And because I missed out on the opportunity to help other people once—I won’t do it again.

This morning at breakfast Andrew smiled at me from across the table, and all my fears about Abnegation dissolved.

I didn’t really expect to love it here. But I think I might. Now I just have to figure out a way to help the Divergent from inside the wrong faction.

YEAR 29 • • FRIDAY AFTERNOON

David,

I got your message, and I appreciate the warning. I will try to protect my family, as you suggested, but you know as well as I do that I’m not going to leave it at that.

If this is the last message I send you... well, let’s just say I hope you burn for this.

Sincerely,

Natalie

"First Jumper—Tris!"

I CHECK MY watch. The first initiate should be jumping any minute now.

The net waits beside me, wide and sturdy and lit from above by the sun. The last time I was here was last year’s Choosing Day, and before then, the day I jumped. I didn’t want to remember the feeling of inching toward the edge of the building, my mind and my body going haywire with terror, the awful drop, the helpless flailing of limbs, the slap of the net fibers against my arms and neck.

“How’d the prank go?” Lauren says.

It takes me a second to figure out what she means: the program, and my supposed desire to prank Zeke. “Haven’t done it yet. Our work time didn’t overlap much today.”

“You know, if you were up for some serious studying, we could use you in tech services,” she says.

“If you’re recruiting, you should talk to Zeke. He’s much better than I am.”

“Yeah, but Zeke doesn’t know when to shut it,” she says. “We don’t recruit for skill so much as compatibility. We spend a lot of time together.”

I grin. Zeke does like to surround himself with chatter, but that’s never bothered me. Sometimes it’s nice not to worry about providing any conversation.

Lauren plays with one of the rings in her eyebrow, and we wait. I try to crane my neck to see the top of the building from the ground, but all I can see is sky.

“Bet you it’s one of my Dauntless-borns,” she says.

“It’s always a Dauntless-born. No bet.”

They have an unfair advantage, the Dauntless-born. They usually know what’s at the bottom of the jump, though we try to keep it from them as much as possible—the only time we use this entrance to headquarters is on Choosing Day, but the Dauntless are curious, they explore the compound when they think no one is watching. They also grow up cultivating in themselves the desire to make bold moves, to take drastic action, to commit themselves fully to whatever they decide to do. It would take a strange kind of transfer to know how to do that without having been taught.

Then I see her.

Not a black streak like I was expecting, but gray, tumbling through the air. I hear a snap of the net pulling taught around the metal supports, and it shifts to cradle her. For a second I stare, amazed, at the familiar clothing that she wears. Then I put my hand out, into the net, so she can reach it.

She wraps her fingers around mine, and I pull her across. As she tumbles over the side, I grab her arms to steady her. She’s small, and thin—fragile-looking, like the impact with the net should have shattered her. Her eyes are wide and bright blue.

“Thank you,” she says. She may look fragile, but her voice is steady.

“Can’t believe it,” Lauren says, with more Dauntless swagger than usual. “A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of.”

She’s right. It is unheard of. It’s unheard of for a Stiff to join Dauntless, even. There were no Abnegation transfers last year. And before that, for a long time, there was only me.

“There’s a reason why she left them, Lauren,” I say, feeling distant from the moment, from my own body. I pull myself back and say to the initiate, “What’s your name?”

“Um...” She hesitates, and I feel, for a strange, brief moment, like I know her. Not from my time in Abnegation, not from school, but on a deeper level, somehow, her eyes and her mouth searching for a name, dissatisfied with the one she finds, just like I was. My initiation instructor gave me an escape from my old identity. I can give her one, too.

“Think about it,” I say, smiling a little. “You don’t get to pick again.”

“Tris,” she says, like she’s already sure of it.

“Tris,” Lauren says. “Make the announcement, Four.”

She’s my initiate, after all, this transfer from Abnegation.

I look over my shoulder, at the crowd of Dauntless members who have gathered to watch the initiates jump, and I announce, “First jumper—Tris!”

This way, they’ll remember her, not for the gray she wears but for her first act of bravery. Or insanity. Sometimes they’re the same thing.

Everyone cheers, and as the sound fills the cavern, another initiate plummets into the net with a blood-curdling scream. A girl dressed in Candor black and white. This time, Lauren is the one to reach across the net to help her. I touch a hand to Tris’s back to guide her toward the stairs, in case she’s not as steady as she seems. Before she takes the first step, I say, “Welcome to Dauntless.”

"Carfeul, Tris."

ONE ABNEGATION, FIVE Candor, two Erudite. Those are my initiates.

I’m told that Candor and Dauntless have a fairly high mutual transfer rate—we usually lose as many to them as we gain. I consider it my job to get these eight initiates through at least the first round of cuts. Last year, when Eric and Max insisted on the cuts, I fought them as hard as I dared. But it seems the cuts are here to stay, all for the sake of the Dauntless Max and Eric want to create—a faction of mindless brutality.

But I intend to leave Dauntless as soon as I find out what Max and Jeanine are up to, and if that’s in the middle of initiation, so much the better.

Once all the Dauntless-borns—including Uriah, Lynn, and Marlene—are with us, I start down the tunnel, beckoning them to follow with one hand. We walk down the dark hallway toward the Pit doors.

“This is where we divide,” Lauren says, when she reaches the doors. “The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume you don’t need a tour of the place.”

She smiles, and the Dauntless-borns follow her down the hallway that bypasses the Pit, leading them right into the cafeteria. I watch them leave, and once they’ve disappeared, I straighten up. I learned last year that in order for them to take me seriously from the beginning, I have to be hard on them from the beginning. I don’t have Amar’s natural charm, which won people’s loyalty with just a smile or a joke, so I have to compensate in other ways.

“Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I’m your instructor,” I say. “My name is Four.”

One of the Candor girls—tall, with dark skin and an energetic voice—speaks up. “Four? Like the number?”

I sense the beginnings of an uprising. People who don’t know what my name means often like to laugh at it, and I don’t like to be laughed at, especially not by a group of initiates fresh from Choosing, who have no idea what they’re in for.

“Yes,” I say testily. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” the girl says.

“Good. We’re about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—”

The Candor girl interrupts again. “The Pit? Clever name.”

I feel a swell of irritation, and I move toward her without really deciding to. I can’t have someone cracking jokes about everything I say, especially not at the beginning of initiation, when everyone’s attitudes are so malleable. I have to show them all that I’m not someone to be messed with, and I have to do it now.

I lean in close to her face and stare at her for a few seconds, until I see her smile falter.

“What’s your name?” I say, keeping my voice quiet.

“Christina,” she says.

“Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction,” I say. “The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?”

She nods. I turn away, my heart throbbing in my ears. I think that did it, but I can’t be sure, not until initiation really begins. I push through the double doors that open up to the Pit, and for a moment, I see it like it’s for the first time, the impossibly huge space, bustling with life and energy, the pulse of water in the chasm, crashing against the rocks, the echoes of conversation everywhere. Most of the time I avoid it because it’s so busy, but today I love it. I can’t help it.

“If you follow me,” I say. “I’ll show you the chasm.”

***

The Abnegation transfer sits at my table. For a moment I wonder if she knows who I am, or if she’s somehow magnetized to me by an invisible force of Stiff that I can’t help but give off. But she doesn’t look at me like she knows me. And she doesn’t know what a hamburger is.

“You’ve never had a hamburger before?” Christina says. Incredulous. The Candor are like that, amazed that not everyone lives the way that they do. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like them. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist to them, but for the Abnegation, the rest of the world is all that exists, and it is full of need.

“No,” Tris says. For someone so small, she has a low voice. It always sounds serious, no matter what she says. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Stiffs eat plain food,” I say, trying out the slang. It feels unnatural, applied to Tris; I feel like I owe her the courtesies I would owe any woman in my former faction, deferential, averted eyes and polite conversation. I have to push myself to remember that I’m not in Abnegation anymore. And neither is she.

“Why?” Christina says.

“Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary.” She says it like she’s reciting it from memory. Maybe she is.

“No wonder you left.”

“Yeah.” Tris rolls her eyes, which surprises me. “It was just because of the food.”

I try not to smile. I’m not sure it works.

Then Eric walks in, and everything goes quiet.

Eric’s appointment to Dauntless leader was met with confusion and, in some cases, anger. There had never been a leader so young before, and plenty of people spoke out against the decision, voiced concerns about his youth and his Erudite background. Max made sure to silence those concerns. And so did Eric. Someone would be outspoken one day and silent, frightened the next, almost like he had threatened them. Knowing Eric, he probably did, with soft-spoken words that twisted together into malice, clever and calculated as always.

“Who’s that?” Christina says.

“His name is Eric,” I say. “He’s a Dauntless leader.”

“Seriously? But he’s so young.”

I set my jaw. “Age doesn’t matter here.” Connections to Jeanine Matthews do.

He comes toward us and drops into the seat next to me. I stare at my food.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he says lightly. Like we’re friends.

“This is Tris and Christina,” I say.

“Ooh, a Stiff,” says Eric, smirking. I worry, for a moment, that he’s about to tell her where I came from, and I curl a hand around my knee, clenching so I don’t lash out and smack him. But all he says is, “We’ll see how long you last.”

I still want to smack him. Or remind him that the last transfer we had from Abnegation, who is sitting right next to him, managed to knock out one of his teeth, so who knows what this next one will do. But with these new practices in place—fighting until an opponent can’t stand, cuts after just a week of combat training—he’s right, it’s unlikely that she’ll last very long, small as she is. I don’t like it, but there it is.

“What have you been doing lately, Four?” Eric says.

I feel a prickle of fear, worried, for a moment, that he knows that I’m spying on him and Max. I shrug. “Nothing, really.”

“Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don’t show up,” Eric says. “He requested that I find out what’s going on with you.”

I find it easy to discard Max’s messages, like they’re bits of garbage blown toward me by the wind. The backlash from Eric’s appointment as Dauntless leader may not bother Eric anymore, but it still bothers Max, who has never liked his protégé as much as he was supposed to. He liked me, though I’m not sure why, since I hole up alone while the other Dauntless pull together.

“Tell him I’m satisfied with the position I currently hold,” I say.

“So he wants to give you a job.”

There’s that suspicious probing again, oozing from his mouth like pus from a new piercing.

“So it would seem.”

“And you aren’t interested.”

“I haven’t been interested for two years.”

“Well. Let’s hope he gets the point, then.”

He hits my shoulder, like he means it to be casual, but the force of it almost pushes me into the table. I glare at him as he walks away—I don’t like to be pushed around, especially not by scrawny Erudite-lovers.

“Are you two... friends?” Tris asks.

“We were in the same initiate class.” I decide to make a preemptive strike, to poison them against Eric before he poisons them against me. “He transferred from Erudite.”

Christina raises her eyebrows, but Tris disregards the word “erudite,” disregards the suspicion that ought to be written into her very skin after a lifetime in Abnegation, and says, “Were you a transfer too?”

“I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions,” I say. “Now I’ve got Stiffs, too?”

As it was with Christina before, my sharpness is intended to slam doors before they open too much. But Tris’s mouth twists like she tastes something sour, and she says, “It must be because you’re so approachable. You know. Like a bed of nails.”

Her face flushes as I stare at her, but she doesn’t look away. Something about her seems familiar to me, though I swear I would remember if I had ever met such a sharp Abnegation girl, even for just a second.

“Careful, Tris,” I say. Careful what you say to me, is what I mean, careful what you say to anyone, in this faction that values all the wrong things, that doesn’t understand that when you come from Abnegation, standing up for yourself, even in small moments, is the height of bravery.

As I say her name, I realize how I know her. She’s Andrew Prior’s daughter. Beatrice. Tris.

"You Look Good, Tris."

I’M NOT SURE I remember what made me laugh, but Zeke said it, and it was hilarious. Around me, the Pit sways like I’m standing on a swing. I hold the railing to steady myself and tip the rest of whatever it is I’m drinking down my throat.

Abnegation attack? What Abnegation attack? I hardly remember.

Well, that’s actually a lie, but it’s never too late to get comfortable with lying to yourself.

I see a blond head bobbing in the crowd and follow it down to Tris’s face. For once, she’s not wearing multiple layers of clothing, and her shirt collar isn’t pressed right up against the bottom of her throat. I can see her shape—Stop it, a voice in my head scolds me, before the thought can go any further.

“Tris!” The word is out of my mouth, no stopping it, don’t even care to try. I walk toward her, ignoring the stares of Will, Al, and Christina. It’s easy to do—her eyes seem brighter, more piercing than before.

“You look... different,” I say. I mean to say “older,” but I don’t want to suggest that she looked young before. She may not bend in all the places that older women do, but no one could look at her face and see a child. No child has that ferocity.

“So do you,” she says. “What are you doing?”

Drinking, I think, but she’s probably noticed that.

“Flirting with death,” I say, laughing. “Drinking near the chasm. Probably not a good idea.”

“No, it isn’t.” She’s not laughing. She looks wary. Wary of what, of me?

“Didn’t know you had a tattoo,” I say, scanning her collarbone. There are three black birds there—simple, but they almost look like they’re flying across her skin. “Right. The crows.”

I want to ask her why she would get one of her worst fears tattooed on her body, why she would want to wear the mark of her fear forever instead of burying it, ashamed. Maybe she’s not ashamed of her fears the way I’m ashamed of mine.

I look back at Zeke and Shauna, who are standing with shoulders touching at the railing.

“I’d ask you to hang out with us,” I say, “but you’re not supposed to see me this way.”

“What way?” she says. “Drunk?”

“Yeah... well, no.” Suddenly it doesn’t seem that funny to me. “Real, I guess.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t.”

“Nice of you.” I lean in, closer than I mean to, and I can smell her hair, feel the cool, smooth, delicate skin of her cheek against mine. I would be embarrassed that I’m acting so foolish, so forward, if she had, even for a second, pulled away. But she doesn’t—if anything, she moves a little closer. “You look good, Tris,” I say, because I’m not sure she knows it, and she should.

This time she laughs.

“Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm, okay?”

“Of course.”

She smiles. And I wonder, for the first time, if she likes me. If she can still grin at me when I’m like this... well, she might.

One thing I know: For helping me forget how awful the world is, I prefer her to alcohol.

Dauntless Compound

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