Page 89 of The Sixth Fraction

“Hello,” I say, tugging the mask down so it won’t muffle my voice.

“Hello,” she says. “Are you all right?”

I shrug. “Just some smoke inhalation. Should be fine.”

Evelyn slumps back against the door. She’s dressed as an Amity today, in a red dress, her hair down—probably makes it easier to walk through the hospital without attracting attention. Sometimes it amazes me how she can just put on and take off different factions like costumes. But then, I used to watch her do that every day, putting on Abnegation like it was a jacket and saving her more honest self for when we were alone.

With me, she’s always been the same, so I thought I was seeing everything she was. I was wrong. People are always bigger than we think they are.

“John—that’s the man whose sister you saved—told me what you did for him,” she says. “Both your daring rescue and your intervention on his behalf, against their mother.”

“Well.” I shrug, avoiding her eyes. “I heard the best place for the kid was with him. So.”

“I see.”

I pretend I can’t feel her eyes on me. Seeing more than they should.

“I was worried about you,” she says.

“I didn’t do much. Is Tris all right?”

“Yes.” Her eyes glint a little. “I spoke to her a few hours ago.”

“She already suspects you started that fire, you know.” I tilt my head. “What did you tell her?”

To her credit, she doesn’t deny it.

“I told her the truth,” she says levelly, “which is that my intention was only to create enough smoke for a diversion. The fire got out of hand.”

“Oh, I’m sure. And the fact that he was in the building that day, that had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not.” She scowls. “You think I would put that many lives at risk just to threaten him?”

I don’t answer, because the truth is, I’m not sure. I want to think my mom isn’t someone who would burn a building just to kill one man. I want to think she cares about the greater good. But I’ve learned the hard way that wanting to believe something doesn’t make it true.

Her eyes skirt mine. “I didn’t realize you’d care about his life so much.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and then I wind up coughing instead, my throat burning. I pull the oxygen mask down and breathe deep for a few seconds as the fit subsides.

“This isn’t about him,” I say, when I can finally breathe easily again. “And the fact that you think it is shows how little you know me.”

I put the oxygen mask back over my nose and mouth, and close my eyes. I feel her hand on mine, squeezing my fingers, but when I open my eyes, she’s already gone, the door left open behind her.

Chapter 30

Tris

Two days later I stand in the alley behind the donation center, waiting for my mother to arrive. The alley is still tidy, the trash neatly stacked and sorted, but there are dandelions growing from the cracks in the pavement, their flowers bright yellow, not yet turned to seed heads.

I’m still catching my breath. I’ve been on oxygen for the past few days and pumped full of medicine that will help my lungs heal faster, all courtesy of a medic at the Conservatory. All the muscles in my body are sore, even ones I didn’t know I had. And my entire left shoulder is covered in bandages. The doctor told me the pain from the burn is a good sign—it means my nerves are still intact—but it’s hard to see it that way when I can’t move my left arm.

The door opens, and my mother rushes out, reaching for me. I flinch back, worried about my wound.

“Sorry,” I say, touching my left shoulder. “I have a burn—”

Her eyes soften with concern, and she puts one arm around me, her hand careful on my back.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she says tightly, over my shoulder. “Your father told me he saw you, and I—”