Divergent 1
Divergent
Veronica Roth
Dedication
To my mother,
who gave me the moment when Beatrice realizes how strong
her mother is and wonders how she missed it for so long
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Excerpt from Insurgent
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ad
Praise for Divergent
Books By Veronica Roth
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
THERE IS ONE mirror in my house. It is behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs. Our faction
allows me to stand in front of it on the second day of every third month, the day my mother cuts my
hair.
I sit on the stool and my mother stands behind me with the scissors, trimming. The strands fall on
the floor in a dull, blond ring.
When she finishes, she pulls my hair away from my face and twists it into a knot. I note how calm
she looks and how focused she is. She is well-practiced in the art of losing herself. I cant say the
same of myself.
I sneak a look at my reflection when she isnt paying attentionnot for the sake of vanity, but out
of curiosity. A lot can happen to a persons appearance in three months. In my reflection, I see a
narrow face, wide, round eyes, and a long, thin noseI still look like a little girl, though sometime in
the last few months I turned sixteen. The other factions celebrate birthdays, but we dont. It would be
self-indulgent.
There, she says when she pins the knot in place. Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. It is too late to
look away, but instead of scolding me, she smiles at our reflection. I frown a little. Why doesnt she
reprimand me for staring at myself?
So today is the day, she says.
Yes, I reply.
Are you nervous?
I stare into my own eyes for a moment. Today is the day of the aptitude test that will show me
which of the five factions I belong in. And tomorrow, at the Choosing Ceremony, I will decide on a
faction; I will decide the rest of my life; I will decide to stay with my family or abandon them.
No, I say. The tests dont have to change our choices.
Right. She smiles. Lets go eat breakfast.
Thank you. For cutting my hair.
She kisses my cheek and slides the panel over the mirror. I think my mother could be beautiful, in a
different world. Her body is thin beneath the gray robe. She has high cheekbones and long eyelashes,
and when she lets her hair down at night, it hangs in waves over her shoulders. But she must hide that
beauty in Abnegation.
We walk together to the kitchen. On these mornings when my brother makes breakfast, and my
fathers hand skims my hair as he reads the newspaper, and my mother hums as she clears the table
it is on these mornings that I feel guiltiest for wanting to leave them.
The bus stinks of exhaust. Every time it hits a patch of uneven pavement, it jostles me from side to
side, even though Im gripping the seat to keep myself still.
My older brother, Caleb, stands in the aisle, holding a railing above his head to keep himself steady.
We dont look alike. He has my fathers dark hair and hooked nose and my mothers green eyes and
dimpled cheeks. When he was younger, that collection of features looked strange, but now it suits him.
If he wasnt Abnegation, Im sure the girls at school would stare at him.
He also inherited my mothers talent for selflessness. He gave his seat to a surly Candor man on the
bus without a second thought.