The houses on my street are all the same size and shape. They are made of gray cement, with few windows, in economical, no-nonsense rectangles. Their lawns are crabgrass and their mailboxes are dull metal. To some the sight might be gloomy, but to me, their simplicity is familiar as this is all I've ever known and is my home. 

The reason for the simplicity isn't disdain for unique-ness, as the other factions have sometimes interpreted it. Everything—our houses, our clothes, our hairstyles—is meant to help us forget ourselves and to protect us from vanity, greed, and envy, which are just forms of selfishness. If we have little and want for little, and we are all equal, we envy no one. At least that's what we are supposed to do.

I try to love it.

I sit on the front step and wait for Caleb and Beatrice to arrive from school. It doesn't take long. After a minute, I see gray-robed forms walking down the street. I hear laughter. At school, we try not to draw attention to ourselves, but once we're home, the games and jokes start. My natural tendency toward sarcasm is still not appreciated even after years. Sarcasm is always at someone's expense, apparently. Maybe I don't have to leave my family. Maybe if I fight to make Abnegation work, my act will turn into reality.

"Amara!" Caleb says. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He is with Susan and her brother, Robert, whilst Beatrice is trudging along behind them. Susan is giving me a strange look like I am a different person than the one she knew this morning. I shrug. "When the test was over, I got sick. Must have been that liquid they gave us. I feel better now, though."

I try to smile convincingly. I seem to have persuaded Susan and Robert, who no longer look concerned for my mental stability, but Caleb narrows his eyes at me, the way he does when he suspects someone of duplicity, he and Beatrice may only be fourteen but they know when I'm lying nine times out of ten.

"Did you two take the bus today?" I ask. I don't care how Susan and Robert got home from school, but I need to change the subject because their stares are unnerving.

"Our father had to work late," Susan says, "and the bus was filling up fast so we decided to walk."

"You're welcome to come over later, if you'd like," Caleb says politely.

"Thank you." Susan smiles at Caleb.

Robert raises an eyebrow at Beatrice. They had been exchanging looks for the past year as Susan and Caleb flirt in the tentative way known only to the Abnegation faction. Caleb's eyes follow Susan down the walk. I have to grab his arm to startle him from his daze. I lead him into the house and close the door behind us, while Beatrice follows behind us with an amused expression etched into her features. 

Caleb turns to me. His dark, straight eyebrows draw together so that a crease appears between them. When he frowns, he looks more like my mother than my father. In an instant I can see him living the same kind of life my father did: staying in Abnegation, learning a trade, marrying Susan, and having a family. It will be wonderful.

I may not see it.

"Are you going to tell me the truth now?" he asks softly, with Beatrice backing him up with a hopeful expression.

"The truth is," I say, "I'm not supposed to discuss it. And you're not supposed to ask. It'll ruin the surprise for you two in two years."

"All those rules you bend, and you can't bend this one? Not even for something this important?" His eyebrows tug together, and he bites the corner of his lip. Though his words are accusatory, it sounds like he is probing me for information—like he actually wants my answer.

I narrow my eyes. "Will you when it's your turn?"

Our eyes meet. I hear a train horn, so faint it could easily be wind whistling through an alleyway. But I know it when I hear it. It sounds like the Dauntless, calling me to join them and to be free of this life whilst thinking of myself for a change.

"Just . . . don't tell our parents what happened, okay?" I say to both of them. "I just- I don't want them to worry any more than they need to"

Their eyes meet for a few seconds, and then they nod.

I want to go upstairs and lie down. The test, the walk, and my encounter with the factionless man exhausted me. But my brother and sister made breakfast this morning, and my mother prepared our lunches, and my father made dinner last night, so it's my turn to cook. I breathe deeply and walk into the kitchen to start cooking.

A minute later, Caleb joins me. I grit my teeth. He helps with everything. What irritates me most about him is his natural goodness, his inborn selflessness, like it's ingrained into his very DNA.

Caleb and I work together without speaking. I cook peas on the stove. He defrosts five pieces of chicken. Most of what we eat is frozen or canned because farms these days are far away. My mother told me once that, a long time ago, there were people who wouldn't buy genetically engineered produce because they viewed it as unnatural. Now we have no other option.

By the time my parents get home, dinner is ready and the table is set. My father drops his bag at the door and kisses my head. Other people see him as an opinionated man—too opinionated, maybe—but he's also loving. I try to see only the good in him; I try.

"How did the test go?" he asks me. I pour the peas into a serving bowl.

"I heard there was some kind of upset with one of the tests," my mother says. Like my father, she works for the government, but she manages city improvement projects. She recruited volunteers to administer the aptitude tests. Most of the time, though, she organizes workers to help the factionless with food and shelter and job opportunities.

"Really?" says my father. A problem with the aptitude tests is rare.

"I don't know much about it, but my friend Erin told me that something went wrong with one of the tests, so the results had to be reported verbally." My mother places a napkin next to each plate on the table. "Apparently the student got sick and was sent home early." My mother shrugs. "I hope they're all right. Did you two hear about that?"

"No," Caleb says. He smiles at my mother.

My brother couldn't be Candor either.

We sit at the table. We always pass food to the right, and no one eats until everyone is served. My father extends his hands to my mother and my brother, and they extend their hands to him my sister, and me, and my father gives thanks to God for food and work and friends and family. Not every Abnegation family is religious, but my father says we should try not to see those differences because they will only divide us. I am not sure what to make of that.

"So," my mother says to my father. "Tell me."

She takes my father's hand and moves her thumb in a small circle over his knuckles. I stare at their joined hands. My parents love each other, but they rarely show affection like this in front of us. They taught us that physical contact is powerful, so I have been wary of it since I was young.

"Tell me what's bothering you," she adds.

I stare at my plate. My mother's acute senses sometimes surprise me, but now they chide me. Why was I so focused on myself that I didn't notice his deep frown and his sagging posture?

"I had a difficult day at work," he says. "Well, really, it was Marcus who had the difficult day. I shouldn't lay claim to it."

Marcus is my father's coworker; they are both political leaders. The city is ruled by a council of fifty people, composed entirely of representatives from Abnegation, because our faction is regarded as incorruptible, due to our commitment to selflessness. Our leaders are selected by their peers for their impeccable character, moral fortitude, and leadership skills. Representatives from each of the other factions can speak in the meetings on behalf of a particular issue, but ultimately, the decision is the councils. And while the council technically makes decisions together, Marcus is particularly influential.

It has been this way since the beginning of the great peace when the factions were formed. I think the system persists because we're afraid of what might happen if it didn't: war.

"Is this about that report Jeanine Matthews released?" my mother says. Jeanine Matthews is Erudite's sole representative, selected based on her IQ score. My father complains about her often.

I look up. "A report?" I ask

Caleb gives me a warning look. We aren't supposed to speak at the dinner table unless our parents ask us a direct question, and they usually don't. Our listening ears are a gift to them, my father says. They give us their listening ears after dinner, in the family room.

"Yes," my father says. His eyes narrow. "Those arrogant, self-righteous—" He stops and clears his throat. "Sorry. But she released a report attacking Marcus's character."

I raise my eyebrows.

"What did it say?" Beatrice asks.

"Beatrice," Caleb says quietly.

She ducks her head, turning her fork over and over and over until the warmth leaves her cheeks. I know she doesn't like to be chastised. Especially by our brother.

"It said," my father says, "that Marcus is violent against his son even though there is no evidence to prove it."

Beatrice and Caleb have never met Tobias. He rarely attended community events and never joined his father at our house for dinner. My father often remarked that it was strange, but now it doesn't matter. The four at the table know that we are close friends but don't acknowledge it now. 

"Cruel? Marcus?" My mother shakes her head.

My father says coldly. "I shouldn't be surprised at this point. The Erudite have been attacking us with these reports for months. And this isn't the end. There will be more, I guarantee it."

I shouldn't speak, but I can't help myself. I blurt out, "Why are they doing this?"

"Why don't you take this opportunity to listen to your father, Beatrice, and Amara?" my mother says gently. It is phrased like a suggestion, not a command. I look across the table at Caleb, who has that look of disapproval in his eyes.

I stare at my peas. I am not sure I can live this life of obligation and selflessness any longer. I am not good enough at it to stay.

"You know why," my father says. "Because we have something they want. Valuing knowledge above all else results in a lust for power, and that leads men into dark and empty places. We should be thankful that we know better."

I nod. I know I will not choose Erudite, even though my test results suggested that I could. I am my father's daughter and I could never wash away the shame of going against them when these accusations are being thrown around.

My parents clean up after dinner. They don't even let Caleb nor Beatrice help them.

My family might be able to help me choose if I could talk about my results. But I can't. Tori's warning whispers in my memory every time my resolve to keep my mouth shut falters.

Caleb, Beatrice, and I climb the stairs and, at the top, when we divide to go to our separate bedrooms, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

He smiles a little. "You'll always be a part of our family even if you don't choose Abnegation."

They both hug me before walking into their separate bedrooms. I wish I could speak to them like I want to instead of like I'm supposed to. But the idea of admitting that I need help is too much to bear, so I turn away.

I walk into my room, and when I close the door behind me, I realize that the decision might be simple. Tomorrow, those five qualities will struggle within me, and only one can win determining my place in the world. Whatever I choose I can't turn my back on. Whatever I choose will determine the rest of my existence and if I can keep my secret.