Flower Child

Chapter Thirty Three

   I remember Amity's initiation day. It was a joyous occasion, as most things were. After a month of the initiates helping with the fields, caring for one another, and practicing peace and happiness everyday, they were made official members.
   They would all sit on a stage behind Johanna, Amity's main representative. She would make a long speech starting with the Amity manifesto and ending with something along the lines of loving our new members. Then she would give the person farthest to the left a piece of bread laced with peace serum. Each initiate would break off a piece and pass it down and then they would eat all at once. That's when the parties began.
   Here in Dauntless, the parties are already started before the final tests had even begun. The pit is packed full of yelling and laughing people. There are people here that I've never even seen before, everyone in the faction must be here. The floor is packed, the pathways are packed, it wouldn't surprise me if someone fell off of one by the end of the day.
It's a fight to push my way into the dining hall for lunch, it's an even bigger one to just get a plate of food. I would look for my friends but in the sea of black I have a better chance of drowning in it than pick out anyone I know. Once I've gotten my plate I push my way through the crowds towards somewhere I hope will be quieter. On the way there I see someone fall over the edge of a pathway, he screams and clutches his broken leg.

I don't go back to the dorm, but to the training room. There is something about this room that just makes me keep coming back to it despite the trouble I could get into.
It's silent in here, the noise of the pit barely reaching my ears, just a low murmur in the back of my mind that is easily ignored. I sit in the center of the room inside the white circle that marked the fighting ring. I pick at the small meal that I picked up, a turkey sandwich and fruits, my mind wandering to far off places.
I remember days spent in Amity with Celeste and Taylor, running around the fields, picking apples, laughing about things we shouldn't, staying out till the moon was high above us. I remember baking with my mother on cold winter days while Taylor practiced his guitar. I remember my hands, feet, hair, and clothes being covered in paint after my dad and I painted for hours and hours, while mom and Taylor sang and danced in the kitchen.
I remember my life as it was, and as it is. I remember jumping into the train for the first time, I remember Lynn and Mar opening up to me the moment they met me. I remember the sky as I fell into the Dauntless world below that rooftop. I remember the feel of Tobias's hands around my waist when he pulled me out of that net. I remember my fight with Edward, and when Tobias carried me afterwards. I remember the reason I came here and the reasons I wish I didn't. I remember the laughs and the pain. I remember last night on the train with Tobias and the realization that Erudite is planning to start a war.
I push my plate of food away from me and lay on the ground. I stare up at the ceiling, my eyes burning because I refuse to blink. I remember that in two hours, I will walk into that fear landscape room and decide my future.

I hadn't moved in almost two hours, so when my watch started to beep and to tell me it was time to get up, I could hardly move. I had to, though, so I got up, groaning in pain the whole time, and walked into the hall. When I get to the pit, the transfers are making their way up the path, Tris tail ending them.
I jump in behind her and she glances back at me. I give her an uneasy smile and she sends one back. No words are needed to say that we are both feeling the same way. Nervous, excited, terrified. It's all happening at once because, this, this is it. This is what will forever decide our futures. If we fail today, we become factionless, if we pass, we become Dauntless. With what I learned last night, I'm wondering if the former is better. I'm not scared of becoming Factionless, I never have been, being Dauntless and going through whatever Erudite has planned, is far worse than not belonging to a faction.
As we climb I look up at the glass ceiling. Usually sun light streams through the glass panes, but, now, it is covered by black boots and shadows of Dauntless members. We climb up the metal steps and emerge into the crowd above. There are so many people up here that the combined body heat hits me instantly. I can barely see past all the heads and to the landscape room. We move through a path carved out for us and I can see a series of screens that cover a wall to my left.
   The crowd suddenly lets out a loud cheer and I focus on what's happening on the screens. Mar is on the screen, her eyes wide as she moves around. We can see her, but not her fears.
   Next to that screen, on the left, is one with her heart rate on it. It suddenly peaks and then slowly goes back down. Once it reaches a steady beat the screen goes green and the crowd cheers again. The screen on her right shows her time.
   Tris and I had stopped to watch and the transfers where ahead of us. We jog to catch up with them. My eyes find Tobias standing just inside a doorway on the left side of the room. The room is large and behind him are a line of people sit in chairs behind another screen. I see Eric and Max with others, the other leaders, sitting in there. They all have wires connected to their heads and their eyes are blank. They're watching the landscape then, they'll be able to see everything. Behind the leaders is another row of chairs, where we will wait for our turns.
   All the chairs are taken by the time I get into the room, Tris getting the last open chair of which she smile apologetically at me.
   "Mor!" Uriah shouts from across the room.
   He sits with three other Dauntless-born, the rest having already gone through.
   He pats his leg, "you can come sit on my lap if you want."
   I laugh and shake my head, "I'd rather kick you out of your chair, Uriah."
   He laughs, "Oh, come on, I know you love me."
   "I'm your dreams," I say.
   The lights in the landscape room come on and we all turn our eyes towards Mar. She is crouched on the ground, tears streaming down her face. The leaders shake off the sim and walk out of the room, seconds later they appear in the screen, congratulating her on finishing.
   "Transfers," Tobias says, drawing our attention towards him, "the order in which you go through the final test was taken from your rankings as they now stand. So Drew will go first and Mor will go last."
   Six people, there will be six people who go before me. I will see each persons scores, I will know what I have to beat, I don't know if that's comforting or not.
   I sit in the back of the room, my arms around my knees as I watch Eric stick the needle into Drew's neck. I take a glance at Tobias to find he's already looking at me. He keeps his face neutral but I can tell he wants to say something, anything to help me through this, and it pains him that he can't, it pains me too.
   I can see Drew as he moves around in his fear, but I can't see what he's dealing with, what he's going through. It's pointless to watch him, the only thing that matters is his time, so I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall.
   I've only witnessed three of my fears, I have no idea if there will be anymore than those, I can't imagine anything else, nothing could scare me as much as those things, nothing at all.
   Molly goes through next, she's better than Drew but nowhere near Tris or I, she even lets out a bloodcurdling scream at one point.
Each person goes, Christina, Will, Peter, Tris. When she goes through, the crowd's cheers are loud and certain, she's doing good, really good, and I'm proud of her.
   I tune out the world. I tune out all my worries and I steel my heart. My mind is filled with a sunset sky and the words of my father, you can do this, my little artist, one brush stroke at a time.
   "Mor."
   My name rings through my mind and forces my eyes to open. I push myself off the ground and move towards the door, towards Eric who awaits with the syringe. I stand in front of him and he pulls my hair to the side with a gentle touch that makes me want to be sick. He plunges the needle into my skin and meets my eyes, his are filled with vicious pride that he seems to reserve for me.
   One brush stroke at a time.
   "Good luck, Mor," he says.