I wake before my alarm sounds. As I get dressed, careful not to wake Christina, the silence encourages my thoughts. What have I gotten myself into? CIA training? I'm not a CIA agent. I can't fight and shoot and act and scheme. For fuck's sake, I studied social work the past four years. Four years of boredom, the thought interrupting my own thoughts. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the idea that I don't belong. Is this what I want? I'm deciding the path of my life, do I really want one of secrecy? Of covert operations, government secrets, and intelligence reconnaissance? I already know the answer.
As I move to the bathroom, I realize that there was no possibility of me enjoying life as a practicing social worker. I studied the subject that made my parents proud of me. The public servant, Tris. The perfect daughter, Tris. It's how I coped with leaving them. If I was going to move across the country, at least I could make them proud. I can't even imagine what they would say if they knew I was training to be in the CIA. Hardly a public servant if I'm hunting down enemies of the state, am I?
I'm getting ahead of myself. For all I know, their ideal position for me is filing travel reimbursement paperwork. I need to calm down before meeting everyone for breakfast before training. I smooth my hair into a low bun, something to tame my long blonde hair for training today. We were told to dress for athletics, so I wore a pair of black leggings, running shoes, and a high-neck long-sleeve shirt. I felt a bit exposed in such form-fitting attire, so I decided to go back to my room to grab a light jacket before heading to the Pit. Hey, maybe I'll run into Christina and we can go together then.
"Hey! I thought you left without me! When did you wake up? How did you wake up? I didn't even hear you leave." All of this spills out of Christina's mouth as if not talking the past few hours was a personal torture imposed by unconsciousness.
"Um. I don't know, just eager I guess. Want to go get breakfast?" I ask.
"Yes! One sec," she replies, turning to her closet. Before I knew what was going on, Christina, who had appeared to be dressed and ready, slipped off her shirt and was reaching for the clasp on her bra before I could look away. Blushing, I stutter something about waiting outside and hope she gets the message. Maybe a minute later, she emerged from our room, laughing. "Does my being topless bother you, Tris?" she giggles.
How do I explain this? "Uh, no, just uh, unexpected?" I feel like such a prude. I zip my jacket up higher. My conservative upbringing really shines through in moments like these. In Abnegate, we were never exposed to bodies - not even through hugging, let alone seeing a girl I met yesterday topless. Sensing my discomfort, Christina lets it go with an understanding nod. We make our way to the Pit with Will and Al, who it turns out are also rooming together. Breakfast was uneventful, but I could feel my nerves getting the best of me as I picked at a muffin and some grapes.
The four of us make our way up to the training room specified by Four the previous day, seeing most of the other transfer initiates there. We're early, and we wait for the few stragglers and Four to start our instruction. The room looks mostly empty, except for some cabinets and targets. Targets?
"Today we start physical conditioning." Four's sudden appearance interrupts my train of thought. "In this first stage of training, we move toward hand-to-hand combat. This morning, we're starting with marksmanship."
As Four moves toward one of the cabinets against the wall, I see what looks like the ends of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. He's dressed differently today than he was yesterday. More athletic, like us. If I thought he looked strong before...
As Four distributes the hand guns, one boy, the one I think called me a stiff the day before, yawns. Not subtly, either. Before I can even process what's happening, Four has ripped the gun out of the boy's hand and has it at the boy's head.
"You're holding a loaded gun, idiot. Act like it," Four calmly states. He hands the gun back to the boy - Peter, I think - and resumes handing out guns. All I can do is glance at Christina, who is already looking at me with wide eyes. When he finishes, we're all directed to stand in front of different targets. He gives us a brief demonstration on what it is we're to be doing before letting us try.
I fire three rounds, none of them hitting the target. Oh no, I think to myself, what have I gotten myself into. Looking around, I see most of the targets along the wall have a few holes in them, even if they're not in the center.
The rest of the morning is spent shooting, and I'm quite pleased that I've managed to consistently hit some part of the target. Four dismisses us for lunch after collecting our handguns, telling us to meet him in another training room in an hour. When it's my turn to give him my gun, I'm struck again by the depth in those ocean eyes.
"Nice improvement today, Tris." Four's words are so sudden and quiet that I'm hardly sure he even spoke to me.
"Thank you," I whisper in reply.
Jogging to catch up with Christina and Will who are one their way to the Pit, I think about my excitement at the morning. I shot a gun! A gun! I've never even seen a gun before today, and now I can kind of shoot one. What a way to start the day.
Lunch is a quiet affair for me. I don't feel like talking much, thought the others at our table are chatting amiably about our morning. It turns out Will has shot before, he was on a rifle team in high school. As I readjust my hair back into a tight bun, the tall transfer initiate, Al, is telling me about how Four stood behind him for at least fifteen minutes when he was starting to shoot. Apparently this intimidated Al so much that he was only able to hit the target four times. I want to laugh, but Al looks serious. Hm. Glancing at my watch, I realize it's almost time to go.
When we get to the new training room, Four is already here. As I look around, I realize this would almost look like a gym, if it weren't for the giant scoreboard hanging on the wall with our names on it. Will elbows me, pointing at it, the question present in his face though he doesn't dare voice it. All I can do is shrug - I don't know why it's there either.
Four's commanding voice cuts through the silence of the room when he says, "Now we work on maintaining and improving your physical fitness. Everyone will start on punching bags today. Follow me."
And we do. Filing over to the line of bags, we watch Four demonstrate proper form. Slowly, he shows us how to properly attack the bag, the angle of approach for different punches, and how to balance as you kick. We're dismissed to individual bags as Four walks around helping us.
I have never tried to punch something in my life. Recalling Four's posture, I try and mimic it with little success. Ignore the laughing, Tris, I tell myself. Fucking Peter. Thinking of him and punching his silly little face, I attack the bag again. To my surprise, this time it swings.
"You don't have much strength." That smooth, steady voice catches me off guard. I catch Four's eyes and wait for him to continue. "Try using your knees and elbows. You'll have more power there."
He moves closer to me, adjusting my stance. Has he always been this tall? I mean, I know I'm short, but my head barely comes to his armpit. Four nods at me to demonstrate my new form. To my surprise, the bag swings again. Smiling, I turn back to Four, who has once again moved back closer to me.
"Remember to keep tension here," he says as he places his hand against my abdomen, fingers spread wide. His hand covers my entire stomach. If I couldn't place the feeling I had before when looking into his eyes, I certainly can now. His hand lingers a little longer than it should have. It seems he realizes this; Four removes his hand quickly averts his eyes from mine and moves on to the next initiate. I feel a blush spreading over my already-warm face. Shit. All I can do is practice more, Peter's stupid face encouraging my elbows and knees until we're dismissed.
All I want is dinner and a shower, so I decline Christina's offer of going shopping for an outfit to wear to a party she's somehow already been invited to over the weekend. Deciding that a shower sounds better than food at the moment, I make my way back to the initiate dorms for the first time in more than twelve hours.
Standing in the shower, I realize for the first time that my knuckles are swollen and bruised. Wow. I guess I was going pretty hard today. I examine my elbows and knees next, knowing that I spent most of the afternoon abusing those joints, but there is only slight bruising. It makes me feel weak and powerful at the same time knowing my body could handle this. I'd never really worked out like this before. Normally, I just run a few times a week. This is really working different muscle groups than I ever have before. Taking my time in the shower, I rub my neck and wash my body. I'm startled by the memory of Four's hand on my abdomen as my own takes the same spot as I wash myself. All I can think of is that hand moving all over my body and how nice that would be. Blushing again, I cut off my thoughts. I cannot think about my instructor like this - how inappropriate! But the memory of his strong, expansive hand over my body returns. Ugh. Okay, time to get out of the shower!
I eat dinner alone, content to have a bit more time to myself. Returning to my room, I lay in bed and read a book while I wait for the exhaustion to take over my mind. I can't shake the eagerness to see what I'll be doing tomorrow, but it feels like my body is pleading with me to take it easy. My shoulders are sore, my hands are sore, even my hips are sore. I set my alarm for the morning, knowing this time I'll really need it.