Page 139 of The Sixth Fraction

Evelyn pulls away from the worktable. Her curly hair is braided today, and she’s wearing a denim jumpsuit that’s a little too big on her, but it looks intentional, artful somehow. She kisses the Mender’s cheek and beckons for me to follow her.

We go down the hall, to the balcony that overlooks the first floor. She leans one elbow on the railing, facing me.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about you,” she says. She holds up her hands, and ticks them off as she lists them, one by one. “That you stripped in front of the Foxes. That you almost got arrested in Erudite headquarters. That you’ve been sneaking off to Dauntless all the time.” She raises an eyebrow. “That you’re up to something, and the Foxes don’t know what it is, which makes everyone nervous.”

I guess I haven’t been as discreet as I thought. But the last rumor, at least, suits my current purposes just fine.

I reach into my pocket and take out the bullet. I turn it in my fingers a few times before offering it to her.

“I helped Sly with a crate the other day, and this fell out of it,” I say.

Evelyn takes the bullet from me, her face inscrutable. “And what do you think it is?”

“I know what it is.”

“I see.” She holds it out to me. “And you clearly have a theory about what it means.”

Tobias and I talked about this for a long time. About how his mother works. What will rattle her and what won’t. What she respects and what she doesn’t. Now I just have to stay calm and say what I rehearsed.

I think of target practice, how I have to steady my breathing if I want to hit the center.

“I did what you asked me to,” I say. “I kept in contact with Tobias. I made sure he knew he could trust me if he needed someone to talk to. And he told me some things about his father.”

“About why I left,” she says, terse.

“No. About what came after that.”

Even with Tobias’s explicit permission to talk to her about this, I still feel nervous about doing it, my throat tight.

She hesitates before asking, “What . . . what came after?”

“Come on, Evelyn,” I say softly. “You know.”

It’s strange to be able to see, right before my eyes, the lessons Evelyn learned in order to survive. Among them: how to react, or rather, how not to react. How to tuck pain away wherever it will fit. How to save it for later, when you’re alone.

“I didn’t,” she says, defensive, like I just accused her of something. “I didn’t know. But recently, I started to think . . . maybe.”

I roll the bullet between my palms, so it warms at my touch.

“Marcus Eaton doesn’t deserve the power he has,” I say, and I let the wholly sincere bitterness creep into every word.

I wait for a few seconds before raising my eyes to hers. I put the bullet back in my pocket.

“Someone has to take it from him,” I say. “I know that whatever else you’re planning, getting rid of Marcus is part of it. And I can help you.”

“You’re a child.”

“I’m not asking to be some lieutenant in your factionless army,” I say. “But I used to be Abnegation, and Marcus trusts both of my parents. I can get you closer to him than anyone else can.”

Evelyn laughs a little. “Getting close to him has never been the issue. It’s making sure that his death is the beginning of the end. And there are dozens of other eager young factionless who are ready to assist. I’ve known them a lot longer than you. If you want to be part of what we’re doing, you’ll have to put in the time, just like everyone else.”

“Okay.” I was ready for this, too. “But . . . what if I can give you something no one else can?”

“Oh?” She sounds amused, but she doesn’t look it. No, she looks like the wild coyote in the Abnegation sector again, hungry for something I don’t understand.

“Tobias,” I say.

Evelyn stares at me, and I try not to flinch. Somewhere below us are the low whispers of factionless playing their board game, the whir of the Mender’s sewing machine, the footsteps of people just arriving or just leaving. Evelyn’s fingers drum on the railing, her fingernails clicking with each pass.