3rd Scripps Spelling Bee Prep

Today is the day of the aptitude test that will show me which of the five factions I belong in.

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.

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 gray 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.

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.

Faction customs dictate even idle behavior and supersede individual preference.

If I didn’t feel like my heart had migrated to my throat, I would ask her what it signifies.

My biology textbook said that dogs can smell fear because of a chemical secreted by human glands in a state of duress, the same chemical a dog’s prey secretes.

My fear is irrational; this is just a test, it isn’t real.

“Typically, each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the factions, but in your case, only two have been ruled out.”

If you had shown an automatic distaste for the knife and selected the cheese, the simulation would have led you to a different scenario that confirmed your aptitude for Amity.

Your intelligent response to the dog indicates strong alignment with the Erudite.

My conclusion,” she explains, “is that you display equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite. People who get this kind of result are . . .” She looks over her shoulder like she expects someone to appear behind her. “. . . are called . . . Divergent.”

But choosing a different faction means I forsake my family.

Because they failed to complete initiation into whatever faction they chose, they live in poverty, doing the work no one else wants to do.

I smell something acrid and unpleasant on his breath.

The reason for the simplicity isn’t disdain for uniqueness, as the other factions have sometimes interpreted it.

I seem to have persuaded Susan and Robert, who no longer look concerned for my mental stability, but Caleb narrows his eyes at me, the way he does when he suspects someone of duplicity.

He and I have been exchanging looks for the past year as Susan and Caleb flirt in the tentative way known only to the Abnegation.

Our leaders are selected by their peers for their impeccable character, moral fortitude, and leadership skills.

Two years ago, Marcus’s son, Tobias, left us for the Dauntless, and Marcus was devastated.

Tori’s warning whispers in my memory every time my resolve to keep my mouth shut falters.

We set an example for our fellow faction members, and soon the three of us are engulfed in the mass of gray fabric ascending cement stairs in the half light.

I could be subsumed into Abnegation’s hive mind, projecting always outward.

The room is arranged in concentric circles.

“Our dependents are now sixteen. They stand on the precipice of adulthood, and it is now up to them to decide what kind of people they will be.”

Decades ago our ancestors realized that it is not political ideology, religious belief, race, or nationalism that is to blame for a warring world.

They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world’s disarray.

I think of the motto I read in my Faction History textbook: Faction before blood.

“I’m used to just saying whatever is on my mind. Mom used to say that politeness is deception in pretty packaging.”

“. . . definitely intimidating,” I finally say.

“Yeah, Peter’s slightly more feminine-looking minion,” she says, nodding toward the cluster of people on the other side of the room.

Peter, Drew, and Molly cast furtive looks in our direction and then pull their heads together, whispering.

I feel like I am looking at two different kinds of Dauntless—the honorable kind, and the ruthless kind.

She says it like she expects him to relent, but her wide eyes and ashen face suggest otherwise.

I love the ballet called the Nutcracker.

I went to the buffet table to get a salad.

The brigade defeated the army.

The corps were strong and determined.

My boudoir was perfectly pink.

I am very abash because of the mistake.