I watch in horror as the Erudite kid punches April right in the face. She crumples to the floor, her body landing in an ungainly heap next to her brother. The Dauntless cheer and I feel sick to the stomach at what I've just witnessed. 

The Erudite boy, who I think April called Isaac, turns to me to look at me. As his cold blue eyes bore into mine, I'm strangely reminded of the eyes of a shark from a picture in a book I once read in the library. Under normal circumstances, I would look away and not draw attention to myself, but seeing what he's just done to April has emboldened me and I return the stare. For a moment, the two of us are frozen, and then he drops a slow wink, before casually strolling out of the Cafeteria with his two Erudite friends. 

The fact that he winked at me makes me feel even worse, as if he viewed me as a fellow attacker rather than simply a spectator. As if I helped slam his fist into April's face. The thought makes me shudder. 

The Dauntless begin to disperse, having lost interest now that the fight is over. Soon it's just me and my friends left standing over April and her brother. 

Miriam touches my arm, "Come on Brooke," she says, sounding a bit uneasy, "There's nothing we can do and we'll be late for class if we don't go now."

"Yeah," I say, my voice sounding a bit shaky, and I follow my friends out of the Cafeteria. As I reach one of the doors, I turn and see that three nurses-two Amity an Abnegation are starting to wheel April and her brother out to the school's sick bay. At least she'll be in safe hands now. 

We head to English Literature, which is usually one of my favourite subjects as I get to learn all about the books I've secretly read, but I my mind constantly drifts elsewhere.  I can't help but think that I should have done something. That I should have helped April take down Isaac and then maybe she would have stood a chance. But I brush the nagging feeling aside. Candor don't take part in fights. We watch and criticise. But  we don't take part in fights. And besides I reason with myself It's not as I would have stood a chance against Isaac anyway. 

Doing nothing was the most logical and sensible thing I could do. Yet it still feels wrong. 

Clara and I take the bus back to Candor, because my dad is too busy to drive us. It's crowded but, as usual, there are plenty of Abnegation who give up their seats for us. When we get back, I let us both into the house, dump my bags in the kitchen, and I head towards the main hall, where court tribunals take place. 

The hall is made out of glass, so the walls and ceiling are completely see-through, allowing a full view of the grounds outside as well as the floor above us. The floor is covered in a pattern of black and white tiles, which is great because being able to look down at the floor below us probably wouldn't help the feeling of sickness I'm still experiencing. As I come through a set of double doors, I can see a set of scales imprinted onto the wall, our faction symbol. 

There are already a lot of Candor grouped together in the Hall, and I see my father sitting next to a factionless man who is going to be on trial. I usually come in whenever I'm experiencing self-doubt or doubt in my faction. Seeing Candor principles in action helps me remind myself that this is where I belong. 

 My father stands up and the Candors fall silent. 

"I will begin my reading the Candor manifesto," he declares, "to remind us that an honest and open world leads to a perfect society." I smile. This is what I've come to listen to. There's something soothing in hearing our manifesto, even though I've heard it so many times before. 

"Dishonesty is rampant, Dishonesty is temporary, Dishonesty makes evil possible," my father begins, and the Candor around me echo the sentences back. 

As my father begins to recite the first few sentences of our manifesto, however, I realise that today, the words don't click with how I'm feeling. Is it dishonesty that makes evil possible?

I think back to April Meadows. She was honest with how she felt about Isaac, and yet, that hadn't stopped him from punching her in the face. I grimace as I remember the startled expression she wore as she collapsed on the ground. Maybe the Candor manifesto is wrong. Maybe it isn't honesty that routs out evil. But if it's not honesty, which makes the most logical sense, then what truly brings peace? 

"Dishonesty leads to suspicion. Suspicion leads to conflict. Honesty leads to peace," my father intones, and once again, this is echoed by the Candor around me. 

But April was honest about her feelings and that didn't lead to peace. If Isaac had been more honest, would that have led to a peaceful resolution? No. I don't think so. Isaac was fairly clear that he considered both April and her brother to be a nuisance. In fact, it was honesty that made the situation worse. 

"Truth makes us transparent. Truth makes us strong. Truth makes us inextricable," the words echo around the room. 

Does truth lead to strength? Is it truth that makes us admire other people? When I think of strength, a picture of April visualises in my head. In that fight, I admired April and there was even a moment where I admired her brother too. But it wasn't their honesty I was admiring. 

I remember April's brother-'Riv' was he called?-getting in between April and Isaac and trying to stop the fight. Though it was a move of pure and utter idiocy, I admired him in that moment. But why? Because it was an act of selflessness? No. I was admiring him embodying his moral ideals and fighting for something he believed in. He was being himself and standing for peace. That took courage. 

And April. She was so brave...

And then it clicks. What I'm hearing coming out of these Candors' mouths is wrong. I don't believe that it's truth that makes us strong or leads to peace. I believe that it's courage. 

And if I believe that bravery is the answer to all of our problems, where does that leave me? 

It's a question I'm still thinking around tea time, when, Clara and my dad are, as usual, being loud.

"You're just jealous that you can't cook as well as I can," retorts Clara, "I inherited Mother's love for cooking." Mother passed away five years ago. From what, I can't remember. The Erudite just said it was some illness and Father didn't want to ask any further questions. Even though Clara was only seven at the time, she decided to teach herself cooking, and she's been cooking ever since. 

"It's just as well," my dad smiles, "I burn any food I make and Brooke only ever cooks pasta."

I don't deny it. There's no point denying anything in Candor because everyone always tells the truth. I remember, with a sigh, the 'truth' I told April earlier today and the way her brown eyes hardened as she glared at me. 

"You're sad," Clara comments, as I wistfully stir my spoon in my soup. It's a statement not a question. 

"Just thinking," I say, quietly. 

"Well don't keep your thoughts to yourself," my father says, "What are you thinking about?"

"Just something that happened to this girl at school," I say quickly, not wanting to admit the guilt I'm feeling. I make sure that I don't scratch the back my head like I usually do when I'm lying. It's only a half-lie but I know Clara has a keen eye for body language. 

"Spill the beans," Clara says, "I love gossip."

So I have no choice but to tell them all about the fight between Isaac and April Meadows, without, of course, mentioning my part in the fight. 

My father shakes his head, "She had it coming," he says. Clara nods in agreement. 

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

"She's an Amity," Clara sniffs, "She shouldn't be acting like a Dauntless."

I blink, startled, "I don't think she was act-"

My dad cuts me off, "An Amity should act like an Amity and that's that."

"I hate Amity," Clara declares, shoving a spoonful of soup into her mouth and biting down hard to illustrate her point. 

My father nods, "Amity and Candor will never get along." He sighs, "The Amity lie all the time."

"This girl though..." Clara begins. 

"April," I cut in. 

"April, "Clara says with a sneer, "Honestly, even the names are bad. Anyway, she'll probably get Dauntless in the Test tomorrow."

"Remember she's an Amity," my dad argues, "She could have been pretending to be brave to make people think she's Dauntless." My father's views on Amity are literally set in stone. 

I see Clara's lips move as she responds but at that point, I've stopped listening. The Test. How did I forget that tomorrow is the Aptitude Test? The one that I've been worrying about for an entire month. 

Tomorrow the Test will tell me who I am and what faction I belong in. And at the mention of the words 'Aptitude Test', my fear returns. 

My fear that the other Candors will judge me for who I am. I am the daughter of the Candor representative and I have strived for so long so try and fit in. And yet today, the day before the Aptitude Test, my beliefs in Candor were shaken. 

I'm scared that the Aptitude Test will tell me I'm not Candor. And if my fears come true, I'm worried about what the others will think of me and the choice I will have to make.