Page 69 of The Sixth Fraction

“Don’t be stupid. I’m fine. The Mender’s even making me a patch with a big eyeball painted on it because I told him I want to lean into it.”

The music starts in earnest then, with a few people drumming on the table they dragged to the other side of the room, and the fiddle player shrieking her bow across the strings, and the guitarist and the banjo player leaning closer to each other, maybe to match their notes—chords—whatever they’re called. The dancing starts, and I’m starting to recognize the different styles, inherited from the factions or developed on their own, it’s hard for an Abnegation girl to say.

I nod my head with the music and think of the round everyone sang at the first dinner I had as an Abnegation initiate. The way the imperfect voices blended together. The way I felt like maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to make it there.

And now here I am.

Christina nudges me, and I notice the Mender is standing at my right shoulder, one hand extended. As usual, he’s dressed like no one else I’ve ever seen. His jacket is black, but shiny and plastic, like it’s meant to repel the rain. The shirt under it is made of black lace, with big, floppy cuffs on the sleeves. His pants are stark white.

I stare up at him. I know what the proffered hand means—he’s asking me to dance.

“I can’t dance,” I say.

“Consider this hand an order, not a request,” he says. “One attempt and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

I sigh, and put my hand in his. He drags me away from Christina and deep into the swarm of couples who are all swaying to a quick beat. It looks harder than the slow dancing that usually comes later in the night, but the Mender doesn’t seem concerned.

“Now, what I want to see is a step from side to side,” he says. “Find the beat and match it. Pretty sure even an Abnegation girl knows how rhythm works.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and waits. My cheeks are hot. I press my palms to them to cool them, and step to one side. Then the other.

“Good.” He takes my hands. “Now try to look a little less like I’m torturing you.”

“I try not to deceive people.”

“Oh, good, she’s funny now. Now step forward and back.”

It takes me a few attempts, but I manage to follow his lead for a little while. I’m aware of how sweaty my hands are and how rigid and awkward the rest of my body must look, but when I look around, everyone else’s eyes are on their partner, on the edges of the room, on anything but me. Colin is dancing with Christina, his eyes sparkling with humor. Rory is dancing with Jove. And Miles has Mae standing on his toes.

“Anyone catch your eye?” the Mender asks me.

“What? No. Of course not.”

I notice my hands are tightening around his. I try to relax them.

“Calm down. I’m only teasing you,” the Mender says. “It’s okay to look at a boy. Or a girl, for that matter. It’s okay to dance, and show your arms, and wear your hair down. It’s okay to be a person, to want things, to think whatever you like in your private thoughts.” He leans closer to my ear, like he’s telling me a secret. “It’s okay to be free.”

He leans back, smiling a little.

“Now go dance with your friends, Stiff,” he says.

I look over my shoulder to see Colin and Christina, now separated, each of them swaying to the rhythm.

It’s okay to be free, I think, and I release the Mender and walk over to Colin.

I force myself to hold out my hands.

Colin grabs them, and we’re off.

He’s a less capable dancer than the Mender, but he laughs through everything—me stomping on his foot, his failed attempt at mimicking Rory’s expert footwork, my determined facial expression, his own sweaty palms.

After a while Rory joins us, taking one of my hands and one of Colin’s and turning us all in a circle—“Like we did in Amity!” she says.

Christina joins in. The fiddle shrieks over the high notes, and the guitarist loses the rhythm and my body heats up from within.

At some point I reach up and yank the tie out of my hair. Tangled blond hair falls over my shoulders, and I like the feeling of it. I know I’m here with ulterior motives, here to earn everyone’s trust and take what I can from them, but . . . right now, I like how loose my limbs are. Right now, I like how easy it is to laugh at nothing at all.

Right now, I like it here.