Chapter 2

THE TEST BEGIN after lunch. We sit at the long tables in the

cafeteria, and the administrators call ten names at a time, one for each

testing room. I sit next to Caleb and across from our neighbor Susan.

Susan’s father travels throughout the city for his job, so

he has a car and drives her to and from school every day. He offered to drives

us, too, but as Caleb says, we prefer to leave later and would not want to

inconvenience him.

Of course not.

The test administrators are mostly Abnegation volunteers,

although there is an Erudite in one of the testing rooms and a Dauntless in

another to the test those of us from Abnegation, because the rules state that

we can’t be tested by someone from our own faction. The rules also say that we

can’t prepare for the test in any way, so I don’t know what to expect.

 My gaze drifts from***

Susan to the Dauntless tables across the room. They are laughing and shouting

and playing cards. At another sets of tables, the Erudite chatter books, and

newspaper, in constant pursuit of knowledge.

  A group of Amity girls in yellow and red sit in a circle on the cafeteria floor, playing hand-slapping

game involving a rhyming song. Every few minutes I hear a chorus of laughter

from them as someone is eliminated and sit in the center of a circle. At the

table next to them, Candor boys make wide gestures with their hands. They

appear to be arguing about something, but it must not be serious, because some

of them are smiling. At the Abnegation table, we sit quietly and wait. Faction

customs dictate even idle behavior and supersede individual preference. I doubt

all the Erudite want to study all the time, or that the Candor enjoys a lively

debate, but they cannot defy the norms of their Factions any more than I can.

Caleb’s name is called in the next group. He moves

confidently towards the exit. I do not need to wish him luck or assure him that

he should not be nervous. He knows where he belongs, and so far, as I know, he

always has. My earliest memory of him is from when we where four years old. He

scolded me for not giving my jump rope ta a little girl on the playground who

didn’t have anything to play with. He doesn’t lecture me often anymore, but I

have his look of disapproval memorized.

I have tried to explain to him that my instincts are not the

same as hi it didn’t even enter my mind to give my seat to the Candor man on

the bus, but he doesn’t understand. “Just do what you’re supposed to,” he

always says. It is that easy for him. It should be that easy for me. My stomach

wrenches. I close my eyes and keep them closed until ten minutes later, when

Caleb sits down again. He is plaster pale. He pushes his palms along his legs

like I do when I wipe off sweat, and when he brings them back, his finger

shake. I open my mouth to ask him something, but the words don’t come. I am not

allowed to ask him about his results, and he is not allowed to tell me. An

Abnegation volunteer to speaks the next round of names. Two from Dauntless, two

from Erudite, two from Amity, two from Candor, and then: Abnegation: Susan

Black and Beatrice Prior.”

I get up because I’m supposed to, but if it were up to me, I

would stay in may seat for the rest of the time. I feel like there is a bubble

in my chest that expands more by the second, threatening to break me apart from

the inside. I follow

Susan to the exit. the people I pass

probably can’t tell us apart. We wear the same clothes our blond hair the same

way. The only difference is that Susan might not fell like she’s going to throw

up , and frown what I can tell , her hands aren’t shaking so hard she has to clutch

the hem of her shirt to steady them.  Waiting

for us outside the cafeteria is a row of ten rooms. They are used only for the

aptitude tests. So, I have never been in one before. Unlike the other rooms in

the schools. They are separated, not by glass, but by mirrors. I watch myself,

pale and terrified, walking toward one of the doors. Susan grins nervously at

me as she walks into rooms 5, and I walk into room 6, where a Dauntless woman

wait for me. She is not as severe looking as the young Dauntless I have seen.

She has small, dark, angular eyes and wear a black blazer—like a man’s suit –and

jeans. It is only when she turns to close the door that I see a tattoo on the

back of her nick, a black—and-- white hawk with a red eye. If I didn’t feel

like my heart had migrated to my throat, I would ask her what is signifies. It

must signify something. Mirrors cover the inner walls of the rooms. I can see

my reflection from all angles: the gray fabric obscuring the shape of my back,

my long neck, my knobby –knuckled hands, red with a blood blush. The ceiling glows

white with light. In the center of the room is a reclined chair, like a dentist’s,

with a machine next to it. It looks like a place where terrible things happen. ``

Don’t worry,’’ the woman says, ‘’ it doesn’t hurt. `` Her hair is black and straight,

but in the light, I see that it is streaked with gray. ’’Have a seat and get

comfortable,’’ she says. `` My name is Toni. ’’Clumsily I in the sit in the

chair and recline, putting my head on the headset. The light hurt my eyes. Toni

busies her—self with the machine on my right. I try to focus on her and not on

he wires in her hands. ``Why the hawk?’’  I blurt out *** she attaches an electrode to my forehead. `` Never

met a curious Abnegation before,’’ she says, raising her eyebrows at me. I shiver,

and goose bump appear on my arms. M curiosity is a mistake. a betrayal of Abnegation

values. Humming a little, she presses another electrode to my forehead and

explains, `` In some parts of the ancient world, the hawk symbolized the sun on

me, I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.’’ I try to stop myself from asking

another question\, but I can’t help it. `` You’re afraid of the dark? ‘’ `` I

was afraid of the dark,’’ she corrects me. She presses the next electrode to her

own forehead and attaches a wire to it. She shrugs. `` Now it reminds me of the

fear I ‘ve overcome.’’ She stands behind me. I squeeze the armrests so tightly

the redness pulls away from my knuckles. She tugs wires toward her, attaching

them to me, to her, to the machine behind her. Then she passes me a vial of

clear liquid. `` Drink this\,’’ she says. `` What is it? ‘’ My throat feels

swollen. I swallow hard. What’s going on to happen? `` Can’t tell you that. Just

trust me.’’ I press my lungs and tip the content of the vial into my mouth. My

eyes close. When they open, an instant has passed, but I am somewhere else. I stand

in the school cafeteria again, but all the long tables are empty, and see through

the glass walls that it’s snowing. On the table in front of me ate two baskets.

In one is a hunk of cheese, and in the other, a knife the length of my forearm.

Behind me\, a woman’s voice says\, `` Choose.’’ `` Why?’’ I ask. `` Choose\,’’ she

repeats. I look over my shoulder, but no one is there. I turn back to the baskets.

`` What will I do with them?’’ `` Choose!’’ she yells. When she screams at me\,

my fear disappears, and stubbornness replaces it. I scowl and cross my arms. ``

Have it your way,’ ’she says. The baskets disappear. I hear a door squeak and

turn to see who it is. I see not a `` who’’ but a `` what’’: A dog with a

pointed nose stands a few yards away from me. It crouches low and creeps toward

me, its lips peeling back from its white teeth. A growl gurgles from deep in

its throat, and I see why the cheese would have come in handy. Or the knife.

But it’s too late now. I think about running, but the dog will be faster than me.

I can’t wrestle it to the ground. My head pounds. I have to make a decision .If  I can jump over one of the

tables and

use it as a shield --- no, I am too short to jump over the tables, and not strong

enough to tip one over. The dog snarls. and I can almost feel the sound

vibrating in my skull. My biology textbook said that dogs can smell fear

because of a chemical secreted by human glands in a state of duress, the same

chemical a dog’s prey secrets. Smelling fear leads them to attack. The dog

inches toward me, its nails scraping the floor. I can’t run. I can’t fight.

Instead I breathe in the smell of the dog’s foul breath and try not to think

about what it just ate. There are no whites in its eyes, just a black gleam. What

else do I know about dogs? I shouldn’t look it in the eye. That’s a sign of

aggression. I remember asking my father for a pet dog when I was young, and now,

staring at the ground in front of the dog’s paws, I can’t remember why. It

comes closer, still growling. If staring into its eyes is a sign of aggression,

what’s a sign of submission? My breaths are loud but steady. I sink to my

knees. The last thing I want to do is lie down on the ground in front of my dog—making

its teeth level with my face – but it’s the best option I have. I stretch my

legs our behind me and lean on my elbows. The dog creeps closer, and closer,

until I fell its warm breath on my face. My arms are shaking. It barks in my

ear, and I clench my teeth to keep from screaming. Something rough and wet

touches my cheek. The dog’s growling stops, and then I lift my head to look at

it again, it is panting. It licked my face. I frown and sit on my heels. The dog

props its paws up on my knees and licks my chin. I cringe, wiping the droll

from my skin, and laugh. `` You’re not such a vicious beast, huh?’’  I get up slowly, so I don’t startle it, but it

seems like a different animal than the one that faced me a few seconds ago. I

stretch out a hand, carefully, so I can draw it back if I need. The dog nudges

my hand with its head. I am suddenly glad I didn’t pick up the knife. I blink, and,

when my eyes open a child stands across the room wearing a white dress. She stretches

out both hands and squeals, `` Puppy!’’ As she runs toward the dog at my side, I

open my mount to warm her, but I am too late. The dog turns. Instead of growling,

it barks and snaps, and its muscles bunch up like coiled wire. About to pounce.

I don’t think, I just jump; I hurl my body on top of the dog, wrapping my arms

around its thick neck. My head hits the ground. The dog is gone, and so is the

the girl. Instead I am alone—in the testing room, now empty. I turn    in a low circle and can’t see myself in

any of the mirrors. I push the door open and walk into the hallway, but it isn’t a

hallway; it’s a bus, and all the seats are taken. I stand in the aisle and hold on into a pole.

over the top of the paper. but I can see his hands. They are scarred, like he

was burned, and they clench around the paper like be wants to crumple it. Do

you know this guy?’’ he asks. He taps the picture on the front page of the newspaper.

The headline reads: `` Brutal Murderer Finally Apprehended!’’ I stare at the word

“murderer.” It has been a long time since I last read that word, but even its

shape fills me dread. In the picture beneath the headline is a young man with a

plain face and a beard. I feel like I do know him, though I don’t remember how.

And at the same time, I feel like it would be a bad to tell that man that. “Well?”

I hear anger in his voice. “Do you?”

A bad idea-no, Avery

bad idea. My heart pounds and I clutch the pole to keep my hands from shaking,

from giving me away. If I tell him I know the man from the article, something

awful will happen to me. But I can convince him that I don’t. I can clear my throat

and shrug my shoulders-but that would be a lie. I clear my throat.

“Do you?” he repeats.

I shrug my shoulders. “Well”. A shudder goes through me. My fear is irrational;

this is just a test, it isn’t real. “Nope,” I say, my voice casual. “No idea

who he is.” He stands, and finally I see his face. He wears dark sunglasses,

and his mouth is bent into a snarl. His cheek is rippled with scars, like his

hand. He leans close to my face. His breath smells like cigarettes. Not real, I

remind myself. Not really. “You’re lying,” he says. “You’re lying!”

“I am not.”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

I pull myself up straighter.” You can’t.”

“if you know him,” he

says in allow voice, “you could save me. You could save me!”

I narrow my eyes. “Well,”

I say. I set my jaws. “I don’t.”

Guys here is the chapter 2 hope you like it, I pour all of my time writing this while taking an exam(shhhhh)

hahahaha( ima talk myself)

anyway HOPE YOU SUPPORT ME

NEXT UPDATE WILL BE TOM. I GUESS?

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