Flower Child

Chapter Four

The next morning, I stare at my room for hours before the sun even rises. I take in every detail I can, the paintings on the wall, the tapestry on my ceiling, my room, my safe haven. Before the first light of day, I get dressed.
I climb out of my window, climbing down the side of my house with little effort. And I walk, towards the apple trees, towards the single tree that had become my place, my sacred ground.
When I get to the base of the tree, I climb, not even thinking about where I need to place my feet, because I had done this so many times throughout my life, I could do this in my sleep. The thickest branch of the tree is where I stop. Straddling the branch, keeping my feet on the branches below me. My fingers run across the bark of the tree, trying to remember the feel of each notch and groove of it. My hand reaches for a hole in the tree, where I had hidden so many things throughout my life. There was only one thing in here now, my poems book.
I write the last poem it's pages would ever see, "I'm sorry."
I make it back to my room as soon as first light begins to shine through the window. I have an hour before we were to leave. I have an hour left in my home. I lay my poem book out to the latest page on my bed, and I look around my room for the last time.

The bus ride to the Choosing Ceremony is dreadful. While everyone else on the bus happily laughs and sings together, I sit, clenching my mother's hand. She knew that I would not stay, she knew and she didn't care. Even after I left, she would not see me as a traitor, and I would forever be grateful for that.
As we get off the bus, I notice a group of Candor smoking near the Hub's front entrance. I frown, smoking was gross to me. Some people in Amity did it, like my neighbor Thomas and his wife Sarah. I hated the smell of it.
I look away from them and towards the Hub, the tallest building in the city. I have to lean my head back to see the top of it, but it disappears into the clouds.
I hold onto Taylor's arm as we walk in, tethering myself to him for as long as I can, because I would leave him too, he would stay in Amity, with my mother, with Celeste.
The elevators are extremely crowded when we get inside, and a family of Abnegation offer us their spot on one of them, and head for the stairs. The girl looks extremely uncomfortable as they begin to walk up the stairs. She looks back at me and I give her an apologetic smile. She smiles back and turns her head to the stairs, they would have to walk all the way to the way to the top floor of the Hub. The rest of her faction follows their lead.
I am pushed between my mother and Taylor, it probably wasn't safe for this many people to be on the elevator at once. Wasn't there a weight limit on this thing?
Even though we are on an elevator, it still takes a while to get all the way to the top, the space seemed to get smaller as the minutes passed. When the doors open, I am the first one out, breathing deeply to calm myself. Taylor laughs a little at me and I glare at him. He raises his hands in surrender.
My mother walks with us to where we will stand during the ceremony, waiting for our names to be called. Every sixteen year old must stand on the edges of the room in alphabetical order, waiting for our names to be called. The host of the ceremony rotates each year, this year is Abnegation, and Marcus Eaton will be the speaker. The names will be read in reverse alphabetical order, which means Taylor will go before me.
"Remember," my mom says, holding each of our hands, "I love you, no matter what."
"I love you too mama," I say, Taylor nodding in agreement, his voice locked away in his throat.
My mother pulls Taylor into a hug, making him lean down a little because of how tall he is. Their hug only lasts a few seconds, because we all knew he would stay. Then she turns to me, and instantly, tears well up in her eyes. We all knew I wasn't. She pulls me into her, her arms wrapping around the back of my neck, my arms wrapping around her waist. I feel her tears hit my shoulder, and my own begin.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to her.
She shakes her head, "don't be, I've expected this to happen."
I pull back and look at her, "you did?"
She nods, "I knew Amity was never enough for you my darling girl, I knew from the moment I saw the emerald fire in your eyes."
She wipes away a tear on my face, "your blood belongs to that fire, not in the soil. Be free my little wildfire, find your home."
"I will Mama," I cry, "I will."
She leaves, and I know it's because if she stays a minute longer, I might change my mind. I watch her back as she makes her way to her seat, pretending not to notice the small shake of her shoulders. Taylor's hand grabs my own, squeezing it comfortingly.
"She's right," he says, "your wildness cannot be contained."
I laugh sadly, "no, no it cannot."
"Mor," he whispers, "I hope you know how much mom and I love you."
I turn my head towards him, "of course I do."
He smiles, "good."
And then the ceremony is starting, everyone is seated, and beginning to quiet down.
"Welcome," Marcus says into the microphone in front of him, "welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honor the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that every man has the right to choose his own way in this world."
Taylor and I both squeeze each other's hand desperately. The reality of it all finally settling in, we would decide our future today, and that future didn't have us together.
"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." Marcus's voice is solemn and gives equal weight to each word. "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 whatever form that is. They divided into factions that sought to eradicate those qualities they believed responsible for the world's disarray."
I let my eyes travel to the five large bowls in the center of the room, each one holding a different element to represent the factions.
"Those who blamed aggression formed Amity."
The bowl contained soil, deep brown and rich with nutrients. My brothers blood would stain it.
"Those who blamed ignorance became Erudite."
This bowl contained water, and I could almost imagine my blood darkening it, but then I thought of living behind a desk my whole life, and the image was gone.
"Those who blamed duplicity created Candor."
Their bowl contains glass, I don't think I could be completely truthful all the time.
"Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation."
The bowl contained smooth gray rocks, could I forget myself completely for others? I don't think so.
"And those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless."
And this bowl contains lit coals. Wildfire, that's what I am.
"Working together, these five factions have lived in peace for many years, each contributing to a different sector of society. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound leaders in law; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent teachers and researchers; Amity has given us understanding counselors and caretakers; and Dauntless provides us with protection from threats both within and without. But the reach of each faction is not limited to these areas. We give one another far more than can be adequately summarized. In our factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life."
Faction before blood, the motto that I have read over and over, been taught over and over for all my life, that is what Marcus meant. But were the factions more important than our blood, I want to agree, but I can't, because when it came down to it, my mom and Taylor were my whole life, and I'd sacrifice my entire faction for them, in a heartbeat.
"Apart from them, we would not survive," Marcus adds.
The room goes silent, it was heavy in the wake of his words. It felt as if he read my mind, and he wanted me to feel guilty, but it did not work. Faction before blood, no, I would not feel guilty, my blood before faction.
Marcus continues on, "therefore, this day marks a happy occasion- the day on which we receive our new initiates, who will work with us towards a better society and a better world."
The crowd erupts into applause, but the sound is muffled in my mind, the only thing tethering me to reality, Taylor. His grip holds firm, and I know he will not let go until his name is called.
Marcus begins to call out names, I vaguely hear each nane. One by one, we are called, to choose the rest of our lives here in this moment. The list goes faster than I would have liked, with no transfers yet and already on T's.
"James Tucker."
The boy, Dauntless, stumbles on his way towards the stage, barely catching himself before he hits the ground. He is red with embarrassment when he starts to climb the steps to the stage stage. When he gets there, he glances between the Dauntless and Candor bowls.
Marcus gives him the new knife, and he accepts it gingerly. His chest rises and falls with a few deep breathes and then he is dragging the knife across his palm, throwing his hand out to the side. His blood drips onto the glass, the first transfer.
The Dauntless section mutter, watching him walk behind the Candor seats. He is a traitor to them now, and will always be seen as such. Will my faction see me as a traitor, will they no longer accept me as one of their own, will they forget me.
"Taylor Snow."
The world stops, my heart along with it. Taylor squeezes my hand one last time.
"Goodbye," he whispers, prying my frozen fingers off of his hand and making his way towards the stage.
He walks with his head high sure of himself, no doubt left in his mind. Years have passed by the time he reaches the stage, yet only seconds. He accepts the knife from Marcus without thought, sliding it across his palm and holding it over the Amity bowl. His blood darkens the soil.
I watch him as walks behind the Amity chairs, the large smile on his lips as he is surrounded by his faction.
"Morgana Snow."
I breath deeply, thinking about each step I take, making sure not to fall. The stage seems so far away yet so close, to close. My future lays there, waiting for me. I sigh through my nose as one foot steps onto the stage, and then breath when the other follows. Follow your heart.
I walk towards Marcus, accepting the knife with a little hesitation. Follow your heart.
I turn towards the bowls. Follow your heart.
I drag the knife across my palm, blood instantly pooling in it. Follow your heart.
I hear it, the trains whistle, the call. Wildfire, that's who I am. Follow your heart.
I don't remember moving my hand, but it is above the bowl. And then my blood is sizzling on the coals, the second faction transfer. A few gasps rise from the crowd, not even just singled to the Amity section. There hadn't been an Amity to Dauntless transfer in ten years, and I'm pretty sure the boy who transferred didn't pass initiation and became factionless.
The crowd's mummering becomes deafening, everyone is shocked. Marcus tries to regain some order, yelling into the microphone, but it doesn't work.
"Quiet," Marcus yells.
Finally the factions settle.
I turn away from the coals and the crowd is erupting again. Dauntless is cheering loudly for me, and I finally feel like I belong.