Choose Your Own Adventure: Divergent

Choosing Ceremony- 23

The elevator opens, and the Amity press forward, excitement in the air. Loud cheers and clapping echoes from the hall, and your eyes widen as you pass through the concrete and into the most brightly colored and beautiful auditorium you've ever seen.

The cheers flood your ears, and Cheyenne grabs your arm. "This way!" She says, excitement in her voice, leading you over to a section of chairs just outside the Amity section. She wiggles her fingers and raises her eyebrows at a man and a woman sitting just behind her, and you guess they must be her parents.

"I guess they miscounted this year," she says, turning back to the chairs. "Here, you can have mine!"

"Thank you," you say, excitement pounding through every fiber of your being as you take your seat. The podium in the center already has the five bowls laid out, and you crane your neck to see them, shivers going through you. 

A hiss of smoke rises from the Dauntless bowl, and you can feel it. This is it. This is the day you, Y/N, choose a faction and begin the rest of your life.

You cheer and clap with the rest of the factions as the Abnegation walk in, followed by Marcus, their leader. The shouts reach a crescendo as Jeanine ascends the stairs, carrying her clipboard.

"The faction system is a living being, composed of cells," she says, nodding to all of you as everyone quiets down. "All of you."

The silence crackles with anticipation.

"And the only way it can survive and thrive," she continues, "is for each of you to claim your rightful place. The future belongs to those who know where they belong."

She nods to the audience with a professional smile, and Marcus steps up behind her. 

"When you leave this room, you'll no longer be dependents," he says, smiling, "but full-fledged members of our society. Faction before blood."

Everyone chants the words back to him, and you quickly mumble along with them. "Faction before blood," you say, your words ending just a hair after theirs.

"Jonathan Ziegler," Marcus calls, and a tall, Erudite boy in a suit strides on stage. He carefully cuts his hand with the knife, then drops his blood in the Erudite bowl, the clear water dissolving the red. 

The next name is called, then the next, then the next, and you find yourself shaking.

What if you can't do it?

You shudder at the thought as Cheyenne gets up, breezing over and placing her blood firmly in the soil. "Amity," Marcus says, nodding to her. We clap.

And then, almost like in slow motion, it's your turn.

"Y/N L/N," Marcus calls, and almost in a trance, you ascend the stage, the eyes of the five factions on you. You can hear your footsteps, your breath, the blood in your ears- you pick up the knife, and the pain in your hand is bright, sharp, alive.

The blood is dripping. You need to choose, now. The bowls are in front of you, white, pristine: Candor, the honest, Amity, the kind, Abnegation, the selfless, Erudite, the intelligent, and Dauntless, the brave. 

Before you waste another second, you yank your hand over to the bowl of your choice. 

If you chose Dauntless, go to 25.

If you chose Candor, go to 145.

If you chose Amity, go to 146.

If you chose Abnegation, go to 147.

If you chose Erudite, go to 148.