Chapter Two

As soon as the initiates are stable on their feet, Lauren and I lead them back through the tunnel-like hallways towards the Pit. As we descend deeper into the compound, I sneak a look back at the group. It is too dark to see, but as we pass back under the glow of one of the regularly spaced lights, they all look anxious. My eyes shift to the Stiff. She is small and thin compared to the others, but the way she holds herself makes her seem inches taller. Lauren and I come to a halt, facing the group from underneath the light.

"This is where we divide," Lauren says. "The Dauntless- born initiates are with me. I assume you don't need a tour of the place."

Smiling faintly, she waves a hand and the Dauntless-borns trail behind her as she leads them to the dining hall. They turn a corner and are swallowed by darkness. I am left alone with the nine transfers. I notice that they are all from Candor or Erudite, except for Tris, whose eyes look bright in contrast to her dull clothes.

I clear my throat. "Most of the time I work in the control room," I say, "but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor. My name is Four." Someone is going to ask about my name - I know they will.

A Candor girl, the second jumper, is the one who does. "Four? Like the number?"

"Yes," I say, staring at her. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

That's what I thought. I don't have the time or patience for curious Candors. "Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It-"

"The Pit? Clever name," the same girl snickers.

I will be taken seriously. I approach her slowly and lower my face so it is only inches from her own. My eyes narrow. Her lip quivers.

I make my voice quiet. "What's your name?"

"Christina," she squeaks out, her dark eyes round.

"Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction," I hiss through my teeth.

I will never know why the Candor seem attracted to Dauntless. I wish they weren't.

"The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut." My eyes bore into Christina's. "Got that?"

She bobs her head. I walk out of the pool of light and back into darkness. A hush falls over the initiates as they hurry along in my wake.

At the end of the hallway, I come to a stop in front of heavy, wooden double doors. The entrance to the Pit. I push through them and step inside. I'd like to see Christina think up a better name for this massive, underground cavern, now so familiar to me. The transfers follow me in, their eyes wide. I follow their gaze up to the glass-paneled ceiling and the building that rises from it, two stories over our heads. Through it, the last beams of sunlight filter in. The rocky, uneven pathways carved into the walls spiral up to the ceiling, and mounted lanterns cast a blue glow on the various shops situated along them. Around us, the Dauntless are a flurry of activity, calling to each other, gesturing, laughing. I crane my neck, watching a group of young Dauntless race each other up one of the pathways, pushing and shoving their way through the crowd. The fact that they could fall to their deaths at any minute doesn't seem to cross their minds. Safety isn't exactly a precaution here.

I turn back to the transfers. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you the chasm."

I motion them forward as I start toward the right side of the Pit. I glance over my shoulder a few times, making sure no one gets lost in the crowd. The roar of the river grows louder in my ears as we approach the metal railing. When we reach it, droplets of water spray my face as I look down at the battle raging below, a clash between rock and water. White peaks form as the current picks up speed to my right. I wonder who will jump this year. Someone always does.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" I yell over the crashing of the river. "A daredevil jump off this edge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned."

I turn away from the chasm and lead the initiates to the dining hall. We enter to a screams, catcalls, and applause as the Dauntless inside rise. The chaos of Dauntless life has grown on me, though I was skeptical at first, accustomed to the restrained silence of the Abnegation. At times like this, I feel a pang in my chest at the thought of leaving.

Most of the seats are already taken, but I manage to find an almost empty table in the corner. I slide in beside Tris, who is seated next to that annoying Candor girl. Christina. The smell of hamburger fills my nose and it is just now that I realize I'm starving. Tris moves at my side, picking up a burger and pinching it. Of course, she's never had one before.

I nudge her. "It's beef. Put this on it," I say, pushing a bowl of ketchup towards her.

"You've never had a burger before?" Christina exclaims.

"No. Is that what it's called?" She still doesn't know what to make of it. I remember the first time I had Dauntless food. Its richness was a welcome change from the bland food I was used to.

I lean forward and nod to Christina. "Stiffs eat plain food," I say.

"Why?" she asks. Candors – questioning everything.

Tris raises her shoulders. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

"No wonder you left," says Christina, smirking.

"Yeah. It was just because of the food." Tris rolls her eyes.

I have trouble concealing a smile. I have never met a sarcastic Abnegation.

But then the doors burst open and Eric marches in. Everyone was laughing and joking a few seconds ago, but Eric's presence is enough to shock them into silence. Like snuffing out a candle. Tris stiffens beside me. The transfers must be horrified by his appearance. His greasy hair hangs in strings, obscuring half of his gaunt face, which doesn't have room for another piercing. His black eyes are bottomless pits when they scan the room. I am transported back to another place, another time. A chill runs down my spine.

"Who's that?" asks Christina, her voice hushed.

"His name is Eric," I respond quietly. "He's a Dauntless leader."

"Seriously? But he's so young."

I look at her gravelly. I wish the rules that apply everywhere else were applied here, too. But they aren't. "Age doesn't matter here."

Christina opens her mouth to say something else, but shuts it when Eric's eyes connect with mine. He starts toward our table and plops down on my other side. I keep my eyes on the table and don't speak. When I watched Eric go through his fear landscape the first day of our initiation, he didn't move a muscle. He just stood there in his blue clothes, eyes closed and fists clenched, controlling his breathing to slow his heart-rate. He conquered the fear in his body, rather than the fear in his mind. I have been wary of him ever since.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks, looking at Tris and Christina, who sit so still that they could be made of stone.

I say grudgingly, "This is Tris and Christina."

"Ooh, a Stiff," Eric says. I wish I could smack the smirk off his face. "We'll see how long you last." Tris actually shudders.

"What have you been doing lately, Four?" he asks me. This must be about my absence at Max's meetings.

I shrug. "Nothing, really." Except avoiding you. My back feels someone stuck a metal rod in it. I clasp my hands between my knees.

"Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up," Eric says slowly, deliberately. "He requested that I find out what's going on with you."

I search for the right words. "Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold." A job in leadership might suit me, but I refuse to work alongside people like and Max and Eric. And I'd rather not see my father in council meetings.

"So he wants to give you a job." Eric's eyes throw sparks.

"So it would seem," I reply.

"And you aren't interested."

"I haven't been interested in two years."

"Well," says Eric. "Let's hope he gets the point, then." He claps my shoulder, a little too hard to be good-natured. Tris and Christina slouch in their seats as he strolls away.

"Are you two..." Tris pauses. "Friends?"

Hardly. "We were in the same initiate class. He transferred from Erudite."

She studies me. "Were you a transfer too?"

Was I this curious as an initiate? I don't think so. "I thought I would have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," I say, my voice hard. "Now I've got Stiffs, too?"

"It must be because you're so approachable," she says, her voice flat. "You know. Like a bed of nails."

I stare at her. She stares back, unrelenting. Abnegation are known for being submissive, compliant. No wonder she transferred. Her cheeks flush, and I break the tension.

I am not sure what to make of her.

Her stubbornness could get her in trouble one day, so I just say, "Careful, Tris," but I don't know if she understands. Zeke calls out to me from across the room and I stand.

XXXX

Thankfully, the rowdiness of my table distracts me from Eric. After dinner, I leave the transfers to him. I feel a twinge of guilt, but I'd rather not be around him for longer than I have too. It is my responsibility to lock up the control room, anyway.

I finally return to my apartment and collapse on my bed, closing my eyes. My first day and I am already exhausted. My thoughts wander to the transfers. Of the nine, only four made impressions on me, one of them being Tris. I'm sure of seen her before, but that doesn't explain why she seems so familiar. Or why my eyes seem drawn to her. Christina, a big guy I heard someone call Al, and an innocent-looking boy from Candor whose eyes looked surprisingly cold - they also made impressions on me. I sit up, realizing I should at least look over the transfers' names before tomorrow. I unfold the initiate roaster I printed out from the Dauntless archives from my pocket and smooth it out, scanning the transfer column. A name jumps out at me: Prior. Beatrice Prior, Abnegation transfer. Prior was the last name of one of my father's closest coworkers, Andrew. My father was often invited to their house for dinner, but of course, I was never allowed to go. I can still see their perfect Abnegation family unit, a mother and a father and two children, a boy and a girl, walking down the streets, handing out food to the Factionless. I stare at the last few letters of the first name. Trice- Tris.

I do know the transfer from Abnegation.