Page 75 of The Sixth Fraction

In the Museum, with our population and theirs combined, I can see just how many factionless there are. There aren’t enough chairs to seat us all at breakfast, but there are a hundred people in line for food, another hundred eating it, and when I walk around, later, to see the woodshop, the metal shop, the worktables full of machine parts, the boots of the train drivers all lined up against a wall . . . I realize there must be more of us than I thought.

It’s another city, I think. A city beneath the city I lived in my whole life. And none of the factions seem to be aware that it even exists.

The factions aren’t ready for whatever is coming. Not by a long shot.

I feel like it’s been a year since I last stood in the alley behind the factionless donation center, next to a stack of flattened boxes, and admitted to my mother that I wanted to leave. But only a few weeks have passed.

I bounce on my toes, full of nervous energy. What will my mother say when she sees me? Will she frown at the braid curling around my neck, at the mixed colors I wear?

The back door opens. My mother peeks into the alley, spots me, and smiles wide. She beckons for me to come in.

The smell of the place—clean cardboard, white vinegar, and laundry detergent—brings tears to my eyes. It’s so familiar and so far from me. Then I’m enveloped in my mother’s arms, my head tucked into her shoulder. I relax against her, the rough linen of her summer shirt scraping my cheek.

“I’m so glad to see you.” She gives me a little squeeze, like she always does at the end of her hugs, then holds me at arm’s length to look me over. “And in red!”

I’m wearing a deep red—almost brown, really—Amity T-shirt today, with sleeves that stop just below my elbows. Back when he gave it to me, the Mender said I should work my way up to short sleeves gradually, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

This morning the Mender’s hands shook as he heaved a bag over his shoulder and walked to the new safe house. The hearing that will determine his fate—and his sister’s fate—is tomorrow.

“How are you?” I ask my mother. “How’s—how’s Dad?”

“We’re fine,” she says, too quickly, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Your father is wallowing,” she amends. “But he’s a grown man. He’ll get over it eventually. And you shouldn’t worry about me.” She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tell me about you.”

I want to tell her about all of it. All the skills we now share—jumping on and off trains among them. All the friends I now have—Rory, always taking playful jabs at everyone around her; Colin, never one to shy away from the facts; Christina, who offered to help me when she didn’t even know me. And all the good things I’ve discovered even in the midst of factionlessness—bees in the apiary, underground water tanks, singing and dancing.

But there’s also something in me that wants to huddle around all of it like it’s a heater in winter, keeping its warmth to myself.

“I think I found the thieves you told me about,” I say instead. “Not the specific ones who stole the gun, but—a group they might be associated with.”

The Foxes, I’ve realized, are the only guild that isn’t named for its function, and that must be because of just how many functions they have. They’re thieves, yes, but also messengers, and sometimes information-gatherers. I heard a rumor that one of them got into the Erudite labs the other day and copied schematics for a portable device that can tap into any faction computer from a distance. As with anything I hear from the factionless, it could be truth or exaggeration.

At first, my only interest in joining them was about Robert and the gun and the factionless plan. But the more I learn about them, the more I think I might actually enjoy being one of them. I’m still bursting at the seams with questions about how the city works and what’s really going on inside it. And who better to find answers than a Fox?

I try to focus. I have another reason for being here. Evelyn sent me—or maybe I sent myself.

I’m sure you did, Four says in my memory. But this time, it really was my choice to come here. To help the Mender.

“I need to ask for your help,” I say. “We got raided by the Dauntless last night.”

Her eyes widen. “What happened?”

“They took a child—a little girl who they say was kidnapped. Only—that’s not what happened. Not exactly. There’s a hearing tomorrow. I wondered if you knew anything about it.”

“Your father sometimes represents the council at custody hearings,” she says. “Depending on the faction that brings the claim to Abnegation.”

“If it was Candor?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, like she’s debating something.

“Custody hearings take place at Abnegation headquarters as a matter of course,” she says. “But recently, Candor and Erudite have begun demanding that their own custody hearings take place at their respective faction headquarters, instead.”

“Why?”

“Erudite is now stepping up its accusations against Abnegation. They claim Abnegation members are abusive to their children, and because it’s standard before a custody hearing to keep a child separate from their parent or guardian prior, Abnegation can’t be trusted to safely house them.”

“What?” I say, my rage hot and sudden. “How dare they—”