[MUSIC]
HarperAudio presents Divergent by
Veronica Roth, performed by Emma Galvin.
[MUSIC]
Chapter one.
There is one mirror in my house,
it is behind a sliding panel
in the hallway upstairs.
Our faction allows me to
stand in front of it,
on the second day of every third month,
the day my mother cuts my hair.
I sit on the stool and my mother stands
behind me with the scissors trimming.
The strands fall on the floor
in a dull blonde ring.
When she finishes, she pulls my hair away
from my face and twists it into a knot.
I note how calm she looks and
how focused she is.
She is well practiced in
the art of losing herself.
I can't say the same of myself.
I sneak a look at my reflection when
she isn't paying attention, not for
the sake of vanity, but out of curiosity.
A lot can happen to a person's
appearance in three months.
In my reflection, I see a narrow face,
wide round eyes and a long thin nose.
I still look like a little girl,
though some time in the last
few months I turned 16.
The other factions celebrate birthdays,
but we don't, it would be self indulgent.
There, she says when she
pins the knot in place.
Her eyes catched mine in the mirror.
It is too late to look away, but
instead of scolding me,
she smiles at our reflection.
I frown a little.
Why doesn't she reprimand me for
staring at myself?
So today is the day, she says.
Yes, I reply, are you nervous?
I stare into my own eyes for a moment.
Today is the day of the aptitude test that
will show me which of the five factions I
belong in.
And tomorrow at the choosing ceremony,
I will decide on a faction.
I will decide the rest of my life.
I will decide to stay with my family or
abandon them.
No, I say the tests don't
have to change our choices.
Right, she smiles.
Let's go eat breakfast.
Thank you, for cutting my hair.
She kisses my cheek and
slides the panel over the mirror.
I think my mother could be
beautiful in a different world.
Her body is thin beneath the gray robe.
She has high cheekbones and
long eyelashes.
And when she lets her hair down at night,
it hangs in waves over her shoulders.
But she must hide that
beauty in Abnegation.
We walk together to the kitchen.
On these mornings when my
brother makes breakfast, and
my father's hand skims my hair
as he reads the newspaper.
And my mother hums as
she clears the table.
It is on these mornings that I feel
guiltiest for wanting to leave them.
The bus stinks of exhaust.
Every time it hits a patch of uneven
pavement it jostles me from side to side,
even though I'm gripping
the seat to keep myself still.
My older brother Caleb
stands in the aisle,
holding a railing above his
head to keep himself steady.
We don't look alike, he has my father's
dark hair and hooked nose, and
my mother's green eyes and dimpled cheeks.
When he was younger, that collection
of features looked strange, but
now it suits him.
If he wasn't Abnegation, I'm sure
the girls at school would stare at him.
He also inherited my mother's talent for
selflessness,
he gave his seat to a surly candour man
on the bus without a second thought.
The Candor man wears a black suit with
a white tie, Candor standard uniform.
Their faction values honesty and
sees the truth as black and white.
So that is what they wear.
The gaps between the buildings narrow and
the roads are smoother as we
near the heart of the city.
The building that was once called
the Sears Tower, we call it the hub,
emerges from the fog,
a black pillar in the skyline.
The bus passes under the elevated tracks.
I have never been on a train,
though they never stopped running, and
there are tracks everywhere.
Only the dauntless ride them.
Five years ago,
volunteer construction workers from
Abnegation repaved some of the roads.
They started in the middle of the city and
worked their way outward until
they ran out of materials.
The roads where I live are still
cracked and patchy and
it's not safe to drive on them.
We don't have a car anyway.
Caleb's expression is placid as
the bus sways and jolts on the road.
The gray robe falls from his arm
as he clutches a pole for balance.
I can tell by the constant shift of his
eyes that he was watching the people
around us.
Striving to see only them and
to forget himself.
Candor values honesty, but our faction,
Abnegation, values selflessness.
The bus stops in front of the school and
I get up, scooting pass the candor man.
I grab Caleb's arm as I
stumble over the man's shoes.
My slacks are too long and
I've never been that graceful.
The upper levels building is the oldest
of the three schools in the city.
Lower levels, mid levels,
and upper levels.
Like all the other buildings around it,
it is made of glass and steel.
In front of it is a large metal sculpture
that the dauntless climb after school,
daring each other to go higher and higher.
Last year, I watched one of them fall and
break her leg.
I was the one who ran to get the nurse.
Aptitude tests today, I say.
Caleb is not quite a year older than I am.
So we are in the same year at school.
He nods as we pass
through the front doors.
My muscles tighten the second we walk in.
The atmosphere feels hungry,
like every 16-year-old is trying to devour
as much as he can get of this last day.
It is likely that we will not walk these
halls again after the choosing ceremony.
Once we choose, our new factions will be
responsible for finishing our education.
Our classes are cut in half today.
So we will attend all of them
before the aptitude tests,
which take place after lunch.
My heart rate is already elevated.
You weren't at all worried
about what they'll tell you?
I ask Caleb.
We pause at the split in the hallway where
he will go one way toward advanced math,
and I will go the other
toward faction history.
He raises an eyebrow at me, are you?
I could tell him I've been worried for
weeks about what the aptitude
test will tell me.
Abnegation, Candor, Erudite,
Amity, or Dauntless?
Instead I smile and say, not really.
He smiles back, well, have a good day.
I walk toward faction history,
chewing on my lower lip.
He never answered my question.
The hallways are cramped,
though the light coming through
the windows creates the illusion of space.
They are one of the only places
where the factions mix at our age.
Today the crowd has a new kind of energy,
a last day mania.
A girl with long curly hair shouts, hey,
next to my ear waving at a distant friend.
A jacket sleeve smacks me on the cheek.
Then an Erudite boy in
a blue sweater shoves me.
I lose my balance and
fall hard on the ground.
Out of my way, Stiff, he snaps,
and continues down the hallway.
My cheeks warm, I get up and
dust myself off.
A few people stopped when I fell,
but none of them offered to help me.
Their eyes follow me to
the edge of the hallway.
This sort of thing has been happening
to others in my faction for months now.
The Erudite have been releasing
antagonistic reports about Abnegation and
it has begun to affect
the way we relate at school.
The great clothes,
the plain hairstyle, and
the unassuming demeanor of my faction
are supposed to make it easier for
me to forget myself and easier for
everyone else to forget me too.
But now they make me a target.
I pause by a window in the E Wing and
wait for the Dauntless to arrive.
I do this every morning, at exactly
7:25 the Dauntless prove their bravery,
by jumping from a moving train.
My father calls the Dauntless, hellions.
They are pierced, tattooed,
and black-clothed.
Their primary purpose is to guard the
fence that surrounds our city, from what,
I don't know.
They should perplex me.
I should wonder what courage,
which is the virtue they most value,
has to do with a metal
ring through your nostril.
Instead my eyes cling to
them wherever they go.
The train whistle blares,
the sound resonating in my chest.
The light fixed to the front
of the train clicks on and
off as the train hurtles pass
the school squealing on iron rails.
And as the last few cars pass,
a mass exodus of young men and
women in dark clothing hurl
themselves from the moving cars.
Some dropping and
rolling, others stumbling a few steps
before regaining their balance.
One of the boys wraps his arm around
a girl's shoulders, laughing.
Watching them as a foolish practice.
I turn away from the window and
press through the crowd to
the faction history classroom.
