Page 143 of The Sixth Fraction

Around the corner is Zeke’s bedroom, which is a study in disorder. Every surface is covered. Clothes slung over chairs, posters and banners on the walls, books and papers on the desk, framed pictures on the bookshelves. Every era of his life is represented here—when he was into computers, when he tried his hand at wood carving, when he tried to compete in boxing, favored sport of all Dauntless.

There’s so much to look at, it takes me a second to see Shauna sitting up in Zeke’s bed. Her hair is rumpled, and she’s wearing one of his T-shirts. Heat creeps up my neck.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I say.

“Relax, we were just getting ready to sleep. Early wakeup tomorrow,” she says, yawning. “You act like you’ve never seen a girl in pajamas before.”

“That’s because he hasn’t,” Zeke says, and he sits on the edge of the bed, next to her.

I take the balled-up sweater off the desk chair, fold it, and set it on his desk. I mostly do it to make him laugh, and he does.

They must know I’m here for a reason, but they don’t ask. They just wait as I pull my thoughts together, as I try to figure out how to have this conversation I’ve been avoiding for two years.

“You’ve never asked me my real name,” I say to them.

Zeke’s smile softens a little.

Shauna says, “That’s because we already know it.”

I look down at my hands. “You never said.”

“No need to.” Zeke shrugs. “If you don’t want to be Marcus Eaton’s son, Four, it must be for a good reason. And I pretty much think you should get to be what you want to be.”

For some reason, that makes my throat tight.

“What’s going on?” Shauna asks quietly.

“It’s time for me to go. Like . . . for good.”

“Is this about Eric?”

“Yes. And no,” I say. “My mom’s still alive. She told me after I chose Dauntless. She’s alive, and she’s important to the factionless, and she invited me to join her if I was ever unhappy in Dauntless. And Eric’s about to make me very unhappy in Dauntless.”

I rarely see Zeke without a smile on his face. It makes him an unlikely friend for me, maybe. Or maybe it makes all the sense in the world to seek out people who know how to do things you don’t. Like letting the goodness of the world buoy them along.

He looks troubled now, though. “That’s how you met that girl. Through the factionless. Through your mother.”

I nod.

“And you’ve been able to see her even though you’re in a faction and she’s not,” Shauna says, raising an eyebrow. “Which means we’ll still be able to see you, too.”

“If you want to. If me being factionless isn’t a problem for you.”

She makes a scoffing sound. “Did you think it would be?”

I’m not sure how to answer her. Because yes, I thought it might be a problem. We spend our whole lives hearing that the factionless are moral failures, a drain on the system. We spend our whole lives trying not to become them.

And more than that, I guess it’s hard for me to believe that people really want to be around me even if it’s hard.

Zeke looks a little sad. “Do what you have to do, Four. You won’t lose us.”

“I know.” I try to smile. It doesn’t quite work. “Well, now I do.”

“When you’ve got a place, invite us over,” Shauna says. “We’ll bring you some spices.”

“You have to start slow,” I say. “Or my Stiff head will explode.”

Shauna laughs. Zeke gets up and gestures for me to get up, too. Then he throws his arms around me, his chin jabbing me in the collarbone. Shauna wraps her arms around both of us. I return the embrace a little awkwardly, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when this kind of thing feels easy for me. But at least I’m doing it.