Soli Deo gloria
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. Part 2.
* Tobias's point of view *
We spend more time together, which is altogether surprising. Having had no friends to speak of my entire life, having lived with no one but my parents and then Marcus, it's strange to talk to someone who doesn't look at me with pity. Who doesn't seem to think that me being Marcus's son makes me an object of weakness or rebellion. She sees through every lie told to her, and for that, I am surprisingly grateful.
But she also sees through me. Sees that I lie far too easily. I can tell by the way she purses her lips, by the appraising look she gets on her face. Reminds me a little of Candor. But she is nothing like Candor. She isn't honest with me, or even with her parents. She withholds. I don't know if that is the trait instilled in her by Abnegation, to hold everything in and be selfless, not letting on about your own problems.
Finally, she tells me that her brother transferred to Erudite. Information I already know. But the way she felt it was in anger, like he had betrayed her.
And, after many, many weeks filled with monotonous work (for Marcus sees that I am seeing Beatrice more and more often, and people are wondering. So he sends me out into the public to work. This earns me more stares, more poring eyes, but more time to see her) with her, she tells me her biggest secret. One that barely escapes her, one that makes me ponder and realize that it fits with her perfectly, and makes me ponder what if I had done the same:
She had wanted to transfer to Dauntless.
"Strange for a Stiff," I say.
"I know," she says. "But I can't help it."
"But you chose Abnegation," I say. We're walking down one of the many roads from the warehouses, the weather cold and blistering. The winds sweep in snowflakes that fall on our too-large jackets, which we joke about: they haven't been replaced. Which is strange. Abnegation don't joke. And yet the two of us do. "Why did you do that? Were you truly selfless enough to put away your own desires and stay with your parents? Or was there another motive, Beatrice?"
"You make me sound so much better than I am," she says. She looks paler in the cold. Smaller, too, hidden away in the swathing of clothing all around her. And I want nothing more than to hold her as tightly as I can in my arms. Just once. She shakes her head, her hair shaking out over her shoulders. "No. I am not good enough for Abnegation."
"Then why'd you choose it?" I ask, tilting my head so I can see her face.
She stops walking. Around us, on the edges of the road, are people. Grey-clothed people walking home from their jobs. Kids in all different colors hurrying to their different parts of the city from school. Black and white clothed people, white people, black people, yellow haired and brown haired and black haired, and the two of us stand there, still, amongst all the calm chaos around us. A silent moment, shared only between the two of us. I lean closer.
"Because it's the safest faction," she whispers.
"Why do you want to be safe?" I ask.
"Who doesn't want to be safe?" she says, a little annoyed.
"Every faction is safe. Except maybe Dauntless," I say. But I don't think she means that it has to do with her health. Perhaps something else.
Her mouth snaps shut. She nods. Nothing more is said.
* Beatrice's point of view *
One of the Abnegation teens that has stayed, even through the Choosing Ceremony, is a girl by the name of Susan Black. She has blonde hair that's always pulled back. She's taller, but even more timid than me. Even so, she had always captured the eyes of my brother. I had always thought that she and Caleb would someday get married and move into their own identical grey house. Maybe Caleb and I would have lived next to each other.
If I had been crushed by his decision, she must be devastated.
I ask her, as we walk through the snow covered streets towards the warehouses, if she knew that Caleb was going to go to Erudite. The jacket I wear I wrap my arms around. It seems no matter what, I am far too scrawny. I cannot retain heat. But words of selfishness are shut in my throat. Even this one question, to bring up Caleb like he had died, is too much. Too much. And when even that makes me feel so guilty, makes me berate myself once more for not choosing a different faction, I know that I cannot last longer here. I am slowly suffocating.
"He did not say anything to me at all." I look up, startled, at Susan. Her eyes look at the ground. Her lip trembles.
To have her even dignify my question with an answer is startling. But then she smiles faintly at me and we continue walking.
Susan and I are as the best of friends as we can be in Abnegation. But what we have can barely be called friendship. She has told me this answer as it is selfish not to. I train my eyes to the ground, just as Susan does. Just as the good Abnegation do.
The jobs of the city are spread out for all the factions. Amity grows the food and has caretakers in hospitals. The Erudite are those of words. Doctors, teachers, scientists. Words. It would explain Caleb. He had a thirst for knowledge which is only for those of the Erudite. The Dauntless protect us; the Candor keep justice in our courts. Abnegation keeps the council, the government of the city. This leaves many jobs not available to the Abnegation, which leads to much volunteering. So after breakfast each day, after I clean the house with my mother and father, I leave with my mother to go to one of the warehouses. Every day the same.
But I can only handle so much of being around people who are so naturally good at heart before I can barely breathe; I have to run. I want to run as far away as I can.
And sometimes I do. Sometimes I tell Susan that I am going to see my mother at a different warehouse and then I run, skirting around the houses and buildings outside the Abnegation sector of the city. Away from where anyone would recognize me as anyone else but a Stiff. Sometimes being so anonymous does me a world of good.
I go to see the trains of the Dauntless, imagine the feeling of wind. I watch the cars passing in to the warehouses from Amity. I imagine the opinions, all free and true and not swallowed down to be polite being throw across black and white rooms in the Merciless Mart. I don't pass by the Erudite. I no longer go to school, and I cannot imagine being so near my brother when I harbor a bad grudge towards him. No. I cannot go to him, or I will act on this grudge, and somehow, in some way, get pushed out of my faction. I am not sure if Abnegation kicks out anyone, but I'm willing to bend rules to the limit until they break in my hands.
The wind blows and the snow swirls. A flake lands on my fingers; I watch it a moment before it melts, completely gone excepting the drop of water left on my fingers. Cold and gone.
"Are you all right?" I spin on my heels, caught. An apology is in my mouth, my head already bent, but I recognize that voice. And only because it is him do I left my head back up.
"We're in Erudite," I say, the words spilling out of my mouth. Then I snap my lips shut and realize that I am right. Despite my anger against my brother, my legs have carried me to my blood, my family. To outside the Erudite Headquarters.
"I know," Tobias says. His eyes glance over the metallic Bean that had a soft blanket of snow over it. He looks back at me. "I saw you running away. What are you doing here?"
A moment of silence passes between us. The snow falls. Curious, strange looks from the Erudite fall on us as well. Nobody speaks to us.
"Breathing," I say.
He breathes deeply and nods. "Abnegation is confinement," he whispers.
I stand shocked. But the words have reached no one's ears but mine. No Erudite stop. None.
"It is," I say. "And that's why I have to be free." My body has the build of a bird; I wish I could sprout wings and be able to fly far, far away.
He walks until he is only a couple steps from me. His breath is frozen in the cold. His eyes dart to my hand, almost as if he wants to hold it. I stand stock still. Motionless.
He battles inside his head and then grabs my hand.
"Let's run, then," he says.
He doesn't need to tell me twice; for someone to give me permission, shoving it into my lap, no matter how worthless it is against our faction rules, is the quickest thing to set me off. My lips press together; I smile.
And then I run.
I have no plan. I don't know where I'm going. But I hear feet keeping pace with mine. His legs are longer, more lithe than my own. But I am sprinting, about to take off. To where? I don't know. But the closest place we're coming on to is an entrance way to the Dauntless trains. Cars roll by, sending sparks through the air. They pass away and I catch the sight of another coming around. Suddenly I run to the tracks, ready on the balls of my feet. My body is faster than my mind, but I catch up quick.
I want to jump onto the train. Just like the Dauntless.
"What are you doing?" Tobias says loudly as the sound of the train's oncoming bell rings through the air.
"I'm escaping," I say. The train is almost here; I can feel the vibrations under my feet, the fierce energy carrying it on. It flows through me, up and to the top, and there is no doubt in my mind about this. I am jumping, whether Tobias wants to come with me or not. This is only a matter of a choice. Will he turn back or join me?
I catch his eye to see his answer. His eyes are hardened as well as his skin, taut against his bones. His body moves in the motion of heavily breathing. "Then I'm coming with you," he says just as the first car swiftly passes us, causing my bun's stray hairs to dance in the air.
He knows full well what trouble we might get into if anyone sees us. No. The imminent trouble that is so near I can practically feel it. Like I can feel the wind as it moves with the cars. But it's his decision. His choice.
I realize I want him to come with me as I say under my breath, "Get ready," and then my feet pick up speed. The moment my feet leave the ground I remember the hold my skirt has across my legs, catching them like a bird trying to fly past a tent cover. My free hand reaches forward; the other holds his tighter as my body rolls across the floor of the nearly empty, dirty car.
Nearly empty. When the ache of the impact is not nearly so noticeable, other things I focus on. The dark clothes, tight over the bodies in the shadows. The clear looks of puzzlement, of anger. The outreached hands, not in welcome, in tenderness, like that of the Abnegation, but hard. Cutting. Defensive. Ready to reduce my body into broken pieces.
"Dauntless," I say.
One steps forward: a boy my age with wild blonde hair and a tattoo across his arm. I don't move when I see a gun in his hand; the big, bulky kind.
"What is an Abnegation doing in Dauntless?" he asks. His eyes go from me to Tobias, whose hand is still grasped in mine. "And what displays of affection. They're lessening their laws against public physical contact? How?"
"They didn't rewrite the laws, Will," a girl says. She stands forward, her gun at her side. Her skin is dark and her hair almost past her chin. A piercing sticks out of her nose. "That's unheard of. No. We've got a couple of misfits with us."
"How, Christina?" The boy, Will, says, turning to Christina. "Abnegation don't do rule-bending."
"They can't be from another faction other than Abnegation," Christina says. Her voice is a hiss, trying to conceal the conversation from other ears, including the other Dauntless that flank them. But her words remind me of the Candor; releasing all she thinks and pouring it through without a filter. I frown. She should have stopped imitating her old faction, especially because of her years in Dauntless. "The factionless—"
"—always wear colors from every faction. I know, Christina," Will says.
Christina wears a grim smile at him. "I know, too, Will." Her smile fades as her eyes stare at us, unabashed. "What are your names?"
My eyes flash to the gun. It stays trained on the floor.
"We're not going to shoot you for trespassing on Dauntless transportation," Christina says, almost sounding helpful. "Come on. Your name."
"What does it matter to you?" Tobias says, his voice steady and serious, breaking through the tension.
"Answer us, Stiff," a boy says, so tall and hair so blond he's almost handsome. But the sneer smeared across his face causes his features to lose any trace of beauty. His gun points at Tobias. I stiffen. Tobias doesn't move for a moment, but then he stands, his back perfectly straight; I realize he is always hunched, like he's been beaten down.
"Or else?" Tobias asks. An eyebrow raises on his face. I almost laugh.
"Don't test me, Stiff—" the boy says, his gun pointing up.
Christina sighs. "Come on, Peter. We're not coming with bodies."
"Names," Peter says through his teeth.
"Beatrice," I say quickly, before Tobias can open his mouth.
"'Beatrice?' What kind of Abnegation name is that?" Peter sneers.
"Mine," I scowl.
"Fine. I don't care. What's his?" He wiggles his gun to make his point.
No words from me. My name is mine to pass on to whoever I want to hear it. But to give out Tobias's name seems . . . traitorous. I won't do it. My legs, the pain less than it was when I first came onto the train, strengthen and ache as I stand next to Tobias.
"You shouldn't be here," Will says. "Factions interacting outside of school, visiting days, and the Choosing Ceremony is hardly tolerated. Especially on faction, not neutral, property."
"What are we going to do with them, Will?" a girl asks.
Will's jaw hardens for a moment. "Take them back to Abnegation."
"We're supposed to go to the fence; it's our shift to guard," a girl with dark red hair points out. "Eric won't like this."
"Eric doesn't like a lot of things," Christina says, "and I can hardly care less." Her body shifts, though her feet keep planted on the dirty wood planks. "Should we wait until the train passes back around the city or should we tell train command to switch to another track and make us retrace our footsteps? Will? Uriah?"
"I'll call Train Control," Peter says. His hand pulls out a fancy communicator.
"Shut up. I wasn't asking you, Peter," Christina says. Her eyes go back to Will. "Let's tick Eric off. Let's wait until it passes around again."
"Fine," Will says. He nods to us. "We'll get to see some Stiffs jump out of a train."
Christina laughs. "That'll be a sight to see."
Jumping out of the train. I had forgotten about that. But that is a part of the Dauntless. Boarding the train recklessly makes them leave it just as so. But the thought of the speed of the train rails through my mind, and my grip on Tobias's hand inadvertently tightens.
We watch the factions pass by. The fields, the broken land, the dried up swamps and the broken buildings that the factionless wander in and out of. A sad existence. Some watch the train. They are grey and blue and black and white and yellow. So many shades of so many different colors. All labelled and marked so that everyone knows who they are. Just as the rest of us are marked.
Part of me feels bad for them. The Abnegation part. The part that hurts when I hand them packages of food from the warehouses, see their dismal faces as they turn to face their lonely lives of picking up pieces and cleaning up after those who didn't fail. Those who worked for their positions. Though, if the Amity even call their initiation hard. It is hard to fall Amity. Those who join Amity the next year are almost always in the Amity chairs at the Choosing Ceremony the following year.
It is hard to fail Abnegation training, too. Suddenly I wonder about the initiation processes of Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite. I don't dare ask any of the members here. I will never ask Caleb.
The Abnegation section of the city is all in shades of gray, ranging from dark to light and everywhere inbetween. The meeting house is a large structure that lacks any adornments that other factions might have. Completely plain. I see it coming up in the empty doorway of the car and the Dauntless all stand up. Their feet are together, their legs ready to be spring.
"Get up," Will says. He seems to be the leader of this particular group, though Peter grumbles. "Get ready to jump."
Tobias and I had slumped against the car as the others had in waiting for the building to come up. So we get up; my hand around his is tight, sweaty, swallowed in his. Neither of us have let go. It would seem almost traitorous to not band together against the Dauntless. This way, we know we can hold on to each other. We're not on our own.
"All right. When I say 'jump', just leap out and aim for the grass. Don't fall on your head but try for your legs or your thighs," Christina says over the roar of the train. Suddenly Peter and a few more Dauntless launch themselves out of the train. I stand still, the wind whistling in my ears, in amazement. All my life I have seen the Dauntless fly out of trains, but never from this side of the train.
I wonder if I had transferred to Dauntless would I now have been so used to train jumping that I wouldn't feel this tension in my legs, this ache in my hand, or this thundering in my heart.
"Jump!" Christina shouts.
Tobias and I trip a little with our joined hands, which fly apart to catch ourselves as we sprawl across the grass that lines the tracks. I push myself up out of the snow and see I've scratched my knee up on something. Blood trickles into my skirt. I push it up, despite showing so much skin in Abnegation, and shove a snowball against it. It stings, but the rush of cold is far better than the rush of pain.
"Are you all right?" Tobias asks. Abnegation are watching in disbelief before hurrying on their way to avoid playing their selfish thoughts of what has happened to me in their minds and coming up to ask if I need any help.
I refuse any and say, "I'll bandage it when I get home." But a bandage is offered and wrapped against my will around my knee. Tobias helps me stand up and Christina says, "We're going to the Abnegation meeting house. Then we're leaving on the next train out of here."
The Abnegation say nothing. One nods, though. Christina and Will lead our group to the meeting house, up the steps to the plain doors.
"What are our parents going to say?" I mutter under my breath to no one in particular. Tobias doesn't say anything but we're both thinking it. My parents are going to be so full of disappointment, my father especially. Neither raised me in this way. Both know that it is hard for me to adhere to the rules of Abnegation.
My eyes are kept captured by the faces we pass by. Many quickly pass away. Some linger, though, despite themselves. Everyone has some curiosity. Apparently, even the Abnegation. But they hurry away through the doors that dot the walls of the innards of the meeting house. The Dauntless surround us like we're prisoners as Will calls for us to halt in the middle of the foyer. He speaks with a neighbor of mine at the front desk. Immediately Marcus Eaton and my father walk out of a meeting. The meeting, I learn, was just finishing. Or else they would not have left so many people at their jobs to attend to us. The people over their children. I know that. So does Tobias, though he no longer holds my hand as they draw closer. I can hear his rapid breathing and wonder what he thinks of the disappointment we have handed to our fathers.
"Beatrice, Tobias, what are you doing here?" my father asks, sounding concerned.
"Why are you here?" Marcus asks, surprised, but serious as he takes in the guests surrounding us like a human shield.
"These two came onto our train car on our way to our guarding shift. It was decided we would escort them here and find Abnegation members to attend them," Will says. His gun is not lifted so high. I catch his face under his shaggy hair; he looks almost concerned under his indifferent mask.
"We thank you for your service. You may return to your jobs," Marcus says. No smile is on his face, but no anger is there either. However, his voice is tight as the Dauntless leave, running and slamming the door behind them, "Miscreants."
"It is not good to describe the Dauntless like that, Marcus, when they have just helped us," my father reprimands.
"I was not describing the Dauntless, Andrew, but our children," Marcus says. His teeth grind. He turns to Tobias. "What were you doing in a Dauntless train? What were you two doing out when it is freezing cold and you're supposed to be at your jobs at the warehouses?"
"Marcus, let us discuss this and properly teach our children when we are in the privacy of our own homes. It is not good to burden the public with our family troubles," my father says. His voice almost softens, but with a tired note. Disappointment. I have disappointed him. I'm not surprised. I was expecting it. "Beatrice, we're going home. I shall ask them to hold the next meeting until after lunch."
Asking the staff here to reschedule a meeting is selfish. To ask something of people on account of my disobedience, to make my run away so well know, is punishment not only on me but also on my father. And that is more punishment on me, to have him ruined because of me. So I hang my neck, truly sorry, as he leads me out of the meeting house and into the snow patched streets. Behind us are Marcus and Tobias, Marcus telling Tobias to keep pace. No dilly dallying. That is selfish.
Everything we do can be marked. Everything is labelled, named, categorized. And many of the things we do are labelled selfish.
Angry as I am at myself, I am also surprised by the actions of Tobias. No immediate apology to his father or mine. No explanation, though he can be only respecting the wishes of our fathers. But nothing. No head hanging in shame like mine. But a head held high in what can only be called Dauntless arrogance. Or confidence. Or no fear. But my father would call it arrogance.
Our houses come up, completely indistinguishable from each other other than the number stamped on the mailboxes. The houses at Dauntless can't be this duplicate. No. I imagine how the colors and personalities of the whooping Dauntless must be stamped across their living spaces. How freeing and unique would that be? Suddenly I am not sorry at all. Suddenly I hear wind whistling in my ear and feel rushing air under my feet, my stomach dropping, my arms flailing out. Like wings. Like I could fly. Be free. Like a bird.
I am not sorry at all.
At the space between our houses, on the grey sidewalk, Marcus says, "Let us walk you up to your door."
"Thank you for your help, Marcus. Do not worry about us," my father says. His fingers are tight on my arm as he turns me to follow him up the stairs. "Come along, Beatrice."
His hand is a cage. I am trapped. Retrieved by a net and returned to my cell.
But I have to escape. I must.
