divergent-excerpt

know.” I close my eyes and hold still. She runs the tip
of the pencil along the line of my eyelashes. I imagine
standing before my family in these clothes, and my stomach
twists like I might be sick.
“Who cares about pretty I’m going for noticeable.”
I open my eyes and for the first time stare openly at my
own reflection. My heart rate picks up as I do, like I am
breaking the rules and will be scolded for it. It will be difficult
to break the habits of thinking Abnegation instilled
in me, like tugging a single thread from a complex work of
embroidery. But I will find new habits, new thoughts, new
rules. I will become something else.
My eyes were blue before, but a dull, grayish blue—the
eyeliner makes them piercing. With my hair framing my
face, my features look softer and fuller. I am not pretty—
my eyes are too big and my nose is too long—but I can see
that Christina is right. My face is noticeable.
Looking at myself now isn’t like seeing myself for the
first time; it’s like seeing someone else for the first time.
Beatrice was a girl I saw in stolen moments at the mirror,
who kept quiet at the dinner table. This is someone whose
eyes claim mine and don’t release me; this is Tris. “See”
she says. “You’re . . . striking.”
Under the circumstances, it’s the best compliment she
could have given me. I smile at her in the mirror.
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