"Do I look like I've been crying?" she asks.
"Hmm…" Yes. But it's not that straightforward, not with her. I smile a little and lean in closer, because I can, because I've been given an invitation to study her. We were already pretty close together, now its a few mere inches. Even through the blotchy complexion of shed tears, I can't help but see her strength. "No, Tris," I tell her, "You look tough as nails."
She looks like she doesn't quite believe me, but nods and turns to go into the dorm. As the door closes behind her, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. Why does she do this to me? I have no business with my face two inches from one of my students, but I can't help myself. I like her too much.
I really didn't need to walk her back to the dorm. In the course of the afternoon, I had been witness to many tears. She was far from the first initiate to cry today. But she was one of the most troubled by it, after spending the least time in the simulation, by far. Three minutes. It was almost unheard of, especially for the first time. I'd spent nearly 45 minutes in mine that first time, a number Amar finally admitted after I'd pressed him. It wasn't something we usually discussed with the initiates. Part of the fear in the simulation was losing all touch with reality, including passage of time. Tris thought she'd spent a half hour with her crows.
Three minutes was troubling. Now I was certain she was Divergent as well. She hadn't been able to separate reality from the hallucination this time—not consciously—but with a time like that, it was going to happen. It was dangerous to be Divergent in Dauntless. I knew first hand. The strength of my fear of my father had balanced out other indicators in my simulation data but if my hunch was right, it was going to become glaringly obvious in Tris's. Soon. I was going to have to keep a close eye on that.
It wasn't like I didn't enjoy keeping an eye on her. Today, I'd taken advantage of any opportunity to be close to her. From brushing her ponytail away from her neck before administering the injection, to leaning over her and telling her to be brave before it kicked in, I'd touched her any time I had the chance to do so casually. I sighed and pushed off the wall. I'd been standing outside the Transfer dorm for far too long. Time to get back to work.
Later, I walked through the Pit towards my apartment, exhausted. It was draining to observe the fears of so many people. It put me in a unique position, administering the simulations. I was well acquainted with representations of my students' greatest fears, but didn't necessarily know what they were. Concrete things showed up more obviously, fears like needles, heights. More abstract things were harder for me, as an outsider, to identify. Like crows. I still had no idea what her fear really was, but it wasn't the actual birds.
"Four!" a friend called out to me from by the railing at the chasm. He stood of with a group of the guys I'd gone through initiation with. "Come hang with us!" He reached into the cargo pocket of his pants and fished out another brown bottle similar to what he was holding. The strong stuff. I chuckled, about to blow them off, but I changed my mind. Maybe a little alcohol—okay, a lot of alcohol—was just what I needed to clear my head.
An hour or so later, I'm feeling much more relaxed. The guys are telling some hilarious stories of hijinks I rarely tag along for, and I can't help but laugh heartily. I've got a good buzz going from the sharp liquor. Growing up in Abnegation, I had not been around alcohol as a kid—they didn't touch the stuff, and they judged the factionless mightily for their drinking. But it's just a part of life for the Dauntless. There's no stigma attached. It's just part of life. It's a nice escape from time to time. I'm not one to drink till I blackout—I don't like to lose control that far—but the heavy fuzziness of a buzz is a pleasant respite.
Out of the corner of my eye I see her. She's with her friends, and they're laughing their way across the pit. "Tris!" I called out before my brain can tell my mouth that this might not be a good idea. My buddies don't even look up as I trot away from them to go talk to her. All of her friends have stopped in their tracks and are staring though.
"You look different," I tell her. She does look different. She looks great. Even after switching to Dauntless black, she had held on to some of her Abnegation modesty, favoring loose jean and t-shirts with a high neckline, and her hair pulled back. Maybe it was just that I usually saw her in the training room, and all of those choices were practical ones. Tonight though, her jeans were fitted. Her hair was down and her eyes lined. Her shoulders were bare in the tight, racerback tanktop she had on.
"What are you doing?" she asks. It seems like she's surprised to see me out here having a good time. I guess I've done a good job of keeping the instructor mask in place.
"Flirting with death," I laugh. "Drinking near the chasm. Probably not a good idea."
"No, it isn't." She seems uneasy.
My eyes shift from hers to the tattoo on her collarbone. "Didn't know you had a tattoo." I study it, taking a sip from the bottle in my hand. This conversation is getting more awkward as it goes on. I need the liquid courage. Her tattoo is three birds. "Right, crows."
I sneak a look back at my buddies to see what they think of this. They aren't paying any attention. They might not have even noticed I left them. "I'd ask you to hang out with us, but you're not supposed to see me this way."
She studies me for a moment before asking, "What way? Drunk?"
"Yeah…" But that's not it, not really. "Well, no. Real, I guess." I want her to see the real me. I want her to know there's more to me than the image I project in class.
"I'll pretend I didn't," she tells me.
Pretend I didn't. She gets it.
"Nice of you." I lean in, a lot closer than I should, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "You look good, Tris."
Did I really just say that? I shouldn't be saying things like that to her. Not yet. She's not safe if she's perceived to be my favorite. I pull back a bit, looking at her, my eyes unfocused a bit. She thinks I'm sloshed. That it's the alcohol talking. It isn't, but its better she thinks it is. She laughs at my "inebriation".
"Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm, okay?" Even though she's laughing at me, I can see there's genuine concern behind that request.
"Of course." I wink at her.
As I turn back to my friends, I can feel her eyes following me. I just reach them when I hear her shriek in surprise and I watch as Al throws her over his shoulder and carries her across the Pit towards the cafeteria. She waves at me. I hope they don't give her too much grief.
"Just a moment. One peculiar passing moment. Must it all be either less or more either plain or grand? Is it always 'or'? Is it never 'and'?"…"Let the moment go. Don't forget it for a moment though. Just remembering you've had an 'and' when you're back to 'or' makes the 'or' seem more than it did before."-Into the Woods, Stephen Sondheim