Flower Child

Chapter Twelve

The next morning I was up even earlier than usual. Yesterday before we had been let out for dinner, Eric had announced that we would be taking a field trip to the fence, which meant we'd be near Amity. I know it shouldn't matter to me, but seeing my home, my old home, does matter. I may be Dauntless now, but a part of me will always be Amity.
   I got out to the tracks long before anyone else, before anyone else was probably even awake. I sit down on the ground with my legs crossed, and I watch the sunrise.
The sky shifts from midnight to red, to orange and yellow. The sun lights the world on fire, warming it up from the frozen night before. The icy sky melts into clear blue waters and white rapids roll overhead.
   It makes me miss Amity even more, miss my family even more. When I was young, my father got me into the habit of waking up early. While my mom and Taylor slept, dad and I would walk the fields. We would walk to the edge of the orchard and he would help me climb the largest tree, the one that became my sanctuary after he passed. We climbed as high as we could, dad taught me how to place my feet, helped me up when I could not lift my own weight. And then we sat in the darkness, watching the horizon, waiting for the sun to come from its slumber.
"You have an artist's soul, Mor," he would say as the sun began to peak over the edge of the world, "color brings you to life, makes up who you are. Never let anyone dull your paints, because you are the master and the world is your masterpiece."
My father was diagnosed by an Erudite doctor with an incurable disease a month before my seventh birthday. He passed away a month after it.

Four had shown up thirty minutes before anyone else. Neither of us made an effort to talk to each other. My excitement to go home was distinguished by the thought of my father and I was clearly upset now. Something also seemed to be bothering him, his brow was furrowed more than usual and each time he glanced in my direction he would turn away quickly.
I made no effort to talk to any of my friends when they showed up, Chris and Tris had almost been late. When the train finally came, I was the first one on, sitting in the corner. Tris was the last, Al lifting her onto the train because she was struggling to pull herself on.
"Feeling okay there," Peter asks her, "or are you a little... stiff?"
   He and his cronies burst out laughing. I want nothing more than to push them out of the car and have the train run over them.
   "We are all awed by your incredible wit," Will says.
   "Yeah, are you sure you don't belong with the Erudite, Peter," Chris asks, "I hear they don't object sissies."
   "Am I going to have to listen to your bickering all the way to the fence," Four asks from his spot by the open doors.
   They fall silent and Four turns towards the opening again. He holds the handles on either side of the door, leaning forward to where he's practically outside the car.
   I look past him, at the crumbling buildings that we pass. They grow smaller as we fly past them until they are nothing. Until fields replace them.
   The train slows down, the breaks squealing loudly. Everyone who was standing, besides Four, stumbles forward. I stand up, stretching my tense muscles.
   The train stops underneath an awning. We all get out of the car, some of us climbing down, others jumping. I'm the last one out when I jump down silently.
   The chain fence in front of me is familiar, and so are the Dauntless guards who mill around it.
   "Follow me," Four says to the group.
   He leads us towards the fence, "if you don't rank in the top five at the end of initiation, you will probably end up here. Once you are a fence guard, there is some potential for advancement, but not much. You may be able to go on patrols beyond Amity's farms, but-"
   "Patrols for what purpose," Will asks.
   Four shrugs, "I suppose you'll discover that if you find yourself among them. As I was saying. For the most part, those who guard the fence when they are young continue to guard the fence. If it comforts you, some of them insist that it isn't as bad as it seems."
   "What rank were you," Peter asks Four.
   Four levels his hard gaze on Peter, I expect him to say something like it doesn't matter not, "I was first."
   "And you choose to do this," Peter asks, his eyes wide, "why didn't you get a government job?"
   "I didn't want one," Four answers flatly.
   He had told us that he worked in the control room the first day. It's hard for me to imagine him sitting in a control room, surrounded by computers and such. It just doesn't fit the person standing in front of me.
   We stop by the gate, where Dauntless guards open it to let a truck drive through. The man driving the truck is familiar to me. Aaron Walker, a kind gentle man who would always let me have first pick of the fruits in he and his wife's garden. He stops the truck just inside the gate and gets out.
   "Morgana," Aaron exclaims when he sees me.
   Someone squeaks from the back of the truck and jumps out, "move people!"
   She clambers through the group of Dauntless and barrels into me, "Cel!"
   She wraps her arms tightly around my waist, almost knocking me off my feet. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and I hug her to me like it was the last time I ever would because it might very well be.
"If you wanted to sit around and hug people all day," Molly's nasally voice calls out, "you should stayed in Amity, Flower Child."
I pull away from Cel and settle a cold hard stare on the big girl, "this is my best friend, I'll hug her and beat your ass afterwards."
"Mor," Cel says, "ignore her, the fight isn't worth it."
I smirk at her, "of course it isn't. How's Taylor, and my mom?"
She smiles, "they're ok, Taylor was upset for a little bit, but I think he's realized that you're happier in Dauntless. And your mom, anytime anyone asks about you, she goes on and on about how proud she is."
I smile, "tell them I'm happy, and that I miss them so much."
"I will," Cel says.
She hugs me again and climbs into the back of the truck. Aaron waves goodbye at me and drives forward. I watch Cel as she goes, waving goodbye at her.
Someone stands next to me, "you know, you have a talent of making bad decisions."
I shrug, "do I care? Not really."
"You should," he says, "bad decisions could make you wind up factionless."
"She's my best friend, Four. No matter where or who we are," I say, "if loving her and my family means becoming factionless, well, then I guess I don't belong in Dauntless."
"You belong here," he says, "trust me."
I finally look at him with my brow raised. What's that supposed to mean?
He clears his throat, "looks like the next train is here. Time to go."