Page 74 of The Sixth Fraction

She sits, too, and folds her hands on the paper she was reading a moment earlier. Her fingernails are trimmed and shaped. Her sleeves are rolled up neatly to her elbows.

“What was your approach to the final test?” she asks.

“I . . . watched for a while,” he says. “In the last two tests I panicked. Rushed. This time I decided to . . . be patient.” He smiles, a little sheepishly. “And then I took notes, and I saw the pattern.”

“How did you learn binary?”

“When I was younger, my sister and I wanted to develop a secret code so we could talk without Robert and Susan—the other kids in our apartment—knowing what we were saying. So I went to the library and did some research.” Caleb shrugs a little. “Beatrice took one look at a word in binary and said I was out of my mind if I thought she was going to take the time to write a whole message that way. She had a point, I guess. It’s not efficient for passing notes.”

“No, it isn’t.” Jeanine smiles a little, as if the story amuses her. “But you were a problem-solver from a young age, it seems. And research was your first instinct. Those are good qualities for an Erudite.”

Caleb tries not to blush. She’s just stating her observations, after all.

There’s a wide window behind her that looks out over the marsh, where the streaks of water are aglow with the setting sun. The glare makes him squint, but the colors are rich and vibrant.

“I can’t imagine your faction of origin particularly valued those qualities,” she says. “Did you hide them?”

“Um . . .” Caleb’s heart races. He thinks of the damning news reports he’s read recently. About Abnegation disciplinary practices, about their disproportionate use of city resources on the factionless, about the temporary amnesia of the Dauntless wall guards. If he admits to Jeanine Matthews that his faction restricted him, will he be reinforcing her misconceptions about Abnegation?

Or will he be offering supportive data for an accurate conclusion?

“I did hide them,” he says. It’s accurate, after all, and knowledge of value demands to be shared. “I had books hidden all over my room, actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jeanine says mildly. “I admit I’m surprised to hear that your father didn’t intervene on your behalf.”

Caleb frowns. “My father? If anyone would have, it would have been my mother.”

“Oh, really?” Jeanine’s smile, too, is mild. “Perhaps I’ve gotten the wrong impression of her. I find her difficult to read, your mother.”

Caleb tries to reconcile that with the mother he knows, her gentle smiles and her patience and the way she laid his socks on the heater on winter mornings so they would be warm when he put them on. He wonders if Jeanine is seeing something he isn’t. Maybe something he’s missing.

Jeanine goes on: “I recognize that our initiation process gives a bit of an unfair advantage to those of us born in Erudite. We do try to design those tests so that no one has to have a particular skill set before joining us—the first one is intended to test abstract thinking, the second tests memory, and the third, observation and pattern recognition. But someone born in Erudite doesn’t just learn more facts, they learn how to think. So the tests do tend to flatter their existing skills. Which is why I’m always impressed when a transfer excels here.” Her smile softens. “You’re like one of those water lilies in the courtyard, blooming despite the murk that surrounds you.”

He’s not sure he would characterize Abnegation as “murk,” exactly, but his chest swells with pride at the praise. He’s not used to people telling him when he does well.

“So tell me, Caleb,” she says, and it’s the first time she’s said his first name. “What are you interested in learning more about? Medicine? Technology? Teaching?”

Caleb only hesitates for a moment.

“Simulations,” he says. “I want to learn about the simulations.”

Jeanine’s eyes light up.

“You and I have something in common, then,” she says. “And as it happens, I know just the place for you.”

Chapter 25

Tris

The sun is low, its orange rays catching on the windows of passing buildings. I stand at the edge of the train car as it turns, and then on a straightaway, I hold the handle and lean my body out.

There’s a thrill in my stomach when I look down and see the street smearing beneath me, but I’m not afraid. My hand is firm on the handle. My feet are firm on the floor. I’m not going to fall.

I find myself thinking that it’s not some innate bravery that makes me unafraid. Not entirely, anyway. It’s preparation. It’s knowing how strong my grip is and how steady my feet are. It’s knowing myself.

I close my eyes and feel the warm wind on my face for just a few more seconds before leaning back into the car and taking a seat. It’ll be a while before I reach the Abnegation sector.

The day was spent moving to the Museum. Like the Rookery, the Museum is beautiful, though decrepit. I was surprised by how easily the factionless packed up their entire lives, how it took only one trip, how the Museum’s residents were ready for us when we arrived, an exhibit hall already cleared out. It’ll be close quarters, but it’s better than the abandoned church where I spent my first factionless night.