XXVI

Early the next morning, when I returned to the apartment, Katie’s nameplate was gone from the door. Her bedroom was open. Every surface was bare; the covers were even stripped from the mattress. So she’d done it. Katie was factionless.

Oona was still sleeping, but Aletheia was not. She gave me a snide glance as I passed her room. Then the glance turned into a stare when she saw my outfit—Ace’s oversized shirt and my torn leggings, spraypainted shoes, a bandage over my tattoo. Very, very Dauntless.

“Wh—what—” Aletheia stammered.

I raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Where the hell were you?”

“Oh.” I paused. “I got initiated into Dauntless overnight. Hopped a train, jumped off a few buildings, shot some guns, learned how to fight, got a tattoo. I think I did pretty good for a Stiff. Maybe I should have chosen that, instead.”

Aletheia’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. Her eyes flicked over me, trying to catch any hint that I wasn’t telling the truth. But she clearly came up empty. Finally, she squeaked, “Why are you telling me this?”

I smiled.

“Because no one will ever believe you,” I said.

I went to class. I fell asleep only once, to my surprise. Ace didn’t work that day, so I would return to Dauntless on Wednesday night to continue training. In the meantime, she instructed me, I should get rest and study for the final exams. I said yes, of course.

I had lied. I did not study. After Arguments, I went out, bought a stack of newspapers and a large coffee from Antigone’s, and returned to my room.

Ace had not yet heard anything from her contacts about a girl named Sajida. That mystery had to be put on hold. I had not heard from Irene, so the mysteries about me and about the division in Candor were quiet now, too. There were two mysteries left, however, that I could access with a few half-credits for the newsboys. The mystery of the factionless, and the mystery of the Erudite.

It took a few minutes to swallow my pride. I would read what the Erudite had to say about Abnegation.

As I sat in front of my spiderweb of notes on the wall and opened the first newspaper, I inhaled.

And the apartment doorbell rang.

Like a flash, I was up. I pulled the bisexual flag up over the notes on the wall and pushed the newspapers under my bed. “Coming!” I yelled, trying to sound the least suspicious possible. I was careful to close my door without a slam.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a Candor. Just Miriam. I let my shoulders drop.

“Miriam,” I said.

Like usual, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. She held out a small white envelope. “A letter, ma’am,” she mumbled.

I frowned. “I didn’t know I could get mail.”

“It’s urgent,” Miriam replied. “I was told to run it to you, fast as I can.”

Frowning even more, I took it and thanked her. She hobbled away down the hallway, and I wondered if I had just witnessed a self-deprecating joke.

I returned to my room. The envelope was addressed only “Ms. Phoebe Prior” in a printed font. Inside was a small card, bearing one sentence:

Check your goddamn email.

Sometimes, when sending chat messages to someone like Ravi or Oona, they would send a line composed only of question marks—like ?????????????????????— to signify that they were confused. I had never understood why they didn’t simply type “I’m confused”. Until now. My reaction was precisely the energy of the line of question marks. It surpassed confusion. I pulled out my laptop and opened my email, cringing when I saw that I hadn’t opened it in two days. Must’ve been busy. I had fifty unread messages, most of them from Stacey, my Reasoning professor who liked to send emails for just about everything.

But one—sent yesterday—was marked with a red flag. Urgent. Sent from one Irene J. McCandless, Esquire.

Ms. Prior,

Thank you for your interest in an internship with the Academic Integrity Department.

Though I normally only grant this position to students who have completed initiation and are currently 1Ls at the Institute, I have reviewed your application and believe you are more than capable of starting earlier.

In the three weeks remaining of initiation, I would like for you to shadow in my office at least once a week; ideally, Tuesday from 4-6 PM. I expect you to begin tomorrow. Does this time work for you?

Let me know as soon as possible.

Regards,

Irene J. McCandless, Esq.

I read the email once. Then read it again. Tuesday, 4-6 PM. Today was Tuesday and it was 4:45.

I said a bad word.

I scrambled to get ready. I wasn’t sure what I’d need to bring to a fake internship that was actually preparation for how to lie during the Full Unveiling. I assumed it would be my laptop, some legal pads, and a chipper attitude. At least I had two of those.

To my surprise, the security at the front of the Merciless Mart were expecting me and let me through. I guess I didn’t need Ace to work that magic when I had Irene in my pocket. Breathless, I stumbled out of the elevator into the Academic Integrity Department. The young secretary at the reception desk was the same as the first time I had been here, with Ace, and his eyes widened at the sight of me.

“You have an appointment this time, go ahead,” he said hurriedly. He glanced around, as if Ace might pop out from a closed door and frighten him again. I was in too much of a rush to even find the humor in it.

Maybe if I had been a little more anxious, I wouldn’t have noticed that there was a light on in Irene’s office.

But I did. I pulled my hand back from the handle. Through the frosted glass, I saw her, a white silhouette, with two tall, dark figures. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Perhaps her room really was soundproofed. But from the movements, I could tell they were conversing.

Inhaling, I knocked. Everyone froze.

Then one of the dark figures moved to the door. I suddenly found myself face to face with just about the last person I wanted to see—Judge Lysander Morris, one pale eyebrow raised as he regarded me.

“Speak of the devil and he doth appear,” said Morris. “Come in, Miss Prior.”

Now on edge, I stepped inside Irene’s office. Wonderful. My Investigative Technique professor, an actual master of lie detection, was here in my fake internship. And talking about me, judging by the greeting. Fear gripped my gut—had I been found out? Had Irene been found out? Was that the real reason why the secretary was on edge?

I looked at Irene. She sat at her desk, cool as a cucumber. The man standing next to her was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was about Irene’s age, maybe forty. Handsome, with short black hair and warm dark eyes, like Ace’s, and high cheekbones. His tie was curious, silver with intricate black embroidery.

“Miss Prior,” said Irene, “I’d like you to meet Jack Kang, chief executive director of Candor.”

My eyes widened. Our faction leader. I had heard about him from my father—he was a familiar face in the Abnegation council. By most faction standards, he was a young leader, only thirty-nine years old. This often led the councilmembers to write him off or label him as arrogant. But he was a legend at the Institute. He was a brilliant lawyer, getting a perfect score on the initiate exams, passing the bar exam in the second year, and becoming senior counsel for Candor within a few years of graduation.

“Mr. Kang,” I said breathlessly, shaking his hand. “It’s—an honor to meet you—”

Kang nodded. “I’m just a man,” he said plainly. “No honor needed. But I have heard many things about you, Miss Prior.”

I looked at Irene again, then at Morris. I couldn’t find expression on either of their faces. For members of a faction that valued emotional openness so highly, the people in this room were impossible to read.

“What kind of things?” I asked.

Irene cleared her throat. “Lysander and Jack stopped by to inquire about you,” she said. “Word got out that I was considering an initiate for the internship. Curiosities were piqued further when you failed to show up.”

I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I forgot to check my email.” Not a lie. They all ate it up.

Folding his hands behind his back, Morris walked around to face Irene and Kang. “Which proves my point, Irene,” said Morris. “Like I said, I enjoy having Miss Prior in my class. But I’m afraid she is an average student at best, and not yet mature enough to handle such a responsibility.”

That hurt a little. But I was getting used to brutal honesty, at least. Morris was right; forgetting to check my email when Irene specifically told me to keep an eye out for it wasn’t very mature.

Kang frowned. “Average?”

“I did say average, yes,” said Morris. “Her midterm scores do not suggest that she will easily pass the final.”

“Yet you were the one to insist that Miss Prior’s performance in the Beauregard investigation was, and I quote, ‘exemplary’,” said Kang.

Morris’ mouth twitched. Frustration, maybe?

“Yes,” he replied, “but if anything, that suggests that Miss Prior should take up an internship with Major Crimes, not Academic Integrity. In any case, Miss Prior may yet fail the final exams. Perhaps she may not wish to complete the Full Unveiling. It’s too early to hire her now.”

“Lysander, she’s just shadowing,” said Irene, leaning back in her chair. “She won’t accept anything until after the Unveiling. What’s it to you?”

“Because I believe you have better candidates among the initiates,” said Morris.

“Such as?” said Irene.

“Oona Posner, transfer from Amity. Average of 84 on the midterms, one point short of passing. One of the most honest initiates I have met. If any initiate deserves special treatment, it is Miss Posner.”

“David Posner’s daughter?” asked Kang.

“Yes.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Kang nodded.

“Miss Posner hasn’t even applied for the position,” said Irene. “Miss Prior came to me in person and asked. I don’t know about you, Judge, but I consider initiative a more valuable trait than a glowing recommendation.”

Morris’ pale eyes narrowed. Then they turned to me. I almost startled, but managed to hold my ground. I held his gaze until he turned back to Irene.

“I always had the impression that you were more selective with whom you let on your staff, Irene,” said Morris. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

Irene lifted her head. If she could see, I would imagine she was staring him down from behind the dark glasses. Perhaps, in her own way, she was.

“If you wish to continue saying nothing important, I wish for you to leave,” she said.

Morris blinked in surprise. Without another word, he turned, took his coat and hat from the hook on the wall, and left, the door slamming behind him.

“Jack, I assume you’re still here,” said Irene.

“That was quite a show,” Kang commented.

“You really didn’t need to be here. I can deal with Morris,” Irene told him.

“He’s been visiting you more frequently nowadays.”

“Well, I’m getting better at making him leave. All is well, I assure you.”

But Kang didn’t seem assured. His keen eyes met Irene’s glasses, as if he could see right through them.

“If there’s a new reason for division in our faction, you’ll tell me,” he said.

She smiled. “I’ll let you know if I see something.”

Kang sighed and nodded to me. “Good luck in initiation, Miss Prior.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Kang got his coat and hat, just as Morris had, and turned to leave. But in the door, he stopped. “Don’t think that your blind jokes go over my head, Irene,” he said. “I hope you’ll start being honest with me.”

“Go do your own job, Jack,” said Irene.

She stood and locked the door behind him.

“Well, that was an ordeal,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Arguing about your credentials for a fake internship. Hilarious.”

“I’m not really sure I understood what just happened,” I confessed.

She moved to a coffee maker in the back of the room and clicked her thermos in place. “Me neither,” said Irene. “Coffee? I don’t have cream or sugar; you’d have to go to the break room for that.”

“No thank you,” I said. I had already drunk two cups today. I was afraid I might be getting addicted to the stuff.

“Well. Let’s see how to put it—I’m glad you were able to meet Jack Kang, at least; he’ll be a judge at the Full Unveilings. He’s a good man… changed a lot of people’s minds about what a model Candor looks like.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he was selected to represent Candor, there were doubts that someone could love the people of this city so much. But he genuinely does. Most of us, we’re so full of shit, and we let everyone know it. But Jack, all he’s full of—well, it’s all love. He pushes us hard. Never sugarcoats. His ideas have made him one of the most controversial leaders in faction history. But it’s all for love.”

Controversial. I knew what that meant from one side of it. It meant that my father often came home sighing about how Candor wanted to change the law to somehow, in some way, harm us. I racked my brain to remember some of the sighs. Kang had proposed a bill to put cameras in street police uniforms. Wanted a law that would allow juvenile criminals to take the literacy and aptitude tests. Prosecuted an Abnegation volunteer accused of hitting a factionless boy. All terrible, terrible things.

And all for love of the city.

“As for Lysander Morris,” continued Irene, “we go back a while. It was his first year teaching when I was an initiate, just a part-time job to augment judicial work, so he didn’t take it too seriously. I decided it would be to my benefit to make his job hard for him. Milking my disability, critiquing him for making his classes too vision-centric. Of course, they were, and I failed the final because I couldn’t see a mismatched color of fabric on a couch. I appealed on basis of discrimination and he was forced to take all those diversity training courses from HR.”

She chuckled.

“He’s better now. An excellent professor, you’re lucky to have him. But he doesn’t like that I’m his boss now. And there’ll always be a little of the Erudite in him, that’s for sure.”

“Erudite?”

“Lysander was a transfer. He doesn’t say it, but you can tell anyway—he’s got that scent. Diluted cologne. Not enough for most to notice, but just enough to suggest something.”

Cologne, like makeup, was not looked upon kindly in Candor. It was a guise, a mask to shape how others perceived you. Only now that Irene mentioned it did I realize she was right.

“Also, I have unlimited access to faction transfer records,” added Irene. “So I know.”

“What does him being Erudite have to do with you?” I asked.

Her coffeemaker pinged. She pulled her thermos out and sat, sipping slowly.

“If you asked half of the city, I should be factionless,” Irene replied. “These eyes dictate my natural lot in life, so why should a faction go out of its way to adjust for me? That’s how it is to the Erudite. And to the Dauntless. And to the—to the Abnegation.”

Pain laced her voice. I felt it in my own throat. I thought of my mother, by my side on a service trip when I was younger. She tried to give a blanket to a factionless woman with no legs. The woman threw the blanket away and spat at my mother’s feet. I didn’t understand why then. I knew the Abnegation’s policy for disabled people—they were meant to be cared for, not placed in charge of caring for others. That was the only time, in theory, when someone might be removed from Abnegation initiation. But it didn’t happen because we never had disabled initiates. Was there a reason for that? Did every disabled kid just know not to transfer to Abnegation?

“I’m sorry,” I blurted.

“Don’t apologize. It’s just how it is.”

“Only Amity and Candor take—um—disabled initiates?”

“Really, it’s only Amity. I wish I could say Candor was any better than Erudite. But that’s the flaw in a faction that encourages everyone to stand for what they believe; nobody forgets how they were raised.”

I looked at the hands in my lap. My palms were scraped and calloused from last night’s training. She was right. I had never met a faction so diverse in opinions, so varied in personality, and sometimes the debate was beautiful. But when it came to matters of who belonged and who didn’t, was the argument worth it anymore?

“So that’s why you left Dauntless,” I said.

She didn’t reply for a while. Then she said, “You really went, didn’t you?”

“Last night,” I said.

“I thought Ace was smarter than that. But I knew it would happen. How did I know? How was I right?”

“I got a tattoo,” I told her. “I also realized that I have cousins, and that my mom used to have piercings. She says hello, by the way. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Natalie. God.”

“So you’re my aunt?”

“That’s really not important.”

“I think it’s important. I’ve never had an aunt before.”

“You’ll never have an aunt, ever,” said Irene sharply. “I don’t want to talk about Natalie or Dauntless, understood?”

I fell silent. I had hoped that the conversation was turning a lighter direction. Obviously, I’d read the room wrong.

Groaning, Irene laced her hands and rested her forehead in them. She took off her glasses, and I wondered if she was going to get the pillow out again and scream into it, but she just rubbed her eyes. I tried to catch a glimpse of them this time. They were just a normal brown. No magical silver cloudiness.

For a while, she just sat there in silence. Then she put her glasses back on and asked quietly, “When?”

“Last night,” I said.

“Did anyone recognize you as Candor?”

“Ace just said I was a fifteen-year-old Dauntless.”

“To whom?”

“A Dauntless leader.” I hesitated to remember the name, then said, “Eric. He believed it.”

“Are you sure?”

“His body language said so.”

Irene typed a note into her computer. “I’m going to trust your judgment against my own,” she said. “I’ll allow you to keep this up, but if it goes pear-shaped, I’m not getting involved.”

“Okay,” I replied softly. I had to be extra careful now.

“One last thing,” she said. “Where’s your tattoo?”

Now I hesitated. Why did she need to know? “Left collarbone,” I said. “I made a rose out of the scar.”

Irene said a bad word. Several of them, actually.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, that’s bad. That’s very, very bad.”

“Ace knew the tattoo artist,” I said. “Her name’s Tori. I think she’s on our side.”

“Tori doesn’t matter, sides don’t matter,” Irene told me. “You don’t understand, Phoebe. You can’t do the Full Unveiling with that tattoo out in the open. They will find out about your Divergence, and then they will kill you.”