Chosen Ones (The Chosen Ones, #1)

by Veronica Roth

“I’m tired of being special,” Albie said with a shaky laugh. “I’m tired of being celebrated for the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

She felt uneven, like the room had shifted around her. But she also knew that whenever Matt proposed to her, she would say yes, because it was the only rational thing to do. They would get married and he would take care of her and she would try as hard as she could to be good enough for him.

It was my theory that a young woman forced to be so independent due to parental negligence would interpret my bluntness as respect for her autonomy.

Sometimes she felt like Albie was the only person in the world who knew her. And it was because he wanted nothing from her, not sex, not love, not secrets. There was no currency between them.

She had no trouble believing that Albie was gone, factually. His body was like any other, yielding, breaking. But understanding it, the space he would leave behind—she couldn’t do it.

Intent then ensures that flexibility does not mean unreliability.

DAUD: I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way. But no, regardless of what power humankind has access to, I suppose I never see it as having a good outcome. We are animals, after all. And don’t let your housecat fool you into thinking that animals are nothing more than fuzzy, whiskered creatures who wish us no ill. Nature is bloody, and as a whole, it favors strength over compassion.

Sloane had gone her entire life never getting what she wanted. No one had ever even asked her what she wanted. She didn’t make any Christmas lists or birthday requests, that was a given—but there were also no signed field-trip forms, no clubs or sports or musical instruments, no lunch money—hell, no food in the kitchen half the time, especially after Cameron joined the fight against the Dark One. As far as her mom knew, Sloane had no desires beyond physical necessities. And sometimes she wasn’t even allowed to want those.

Some things split your life in half.