My lashes flutter open to the sight of white light reflecting off my pale, trembling fingers. After a few seconds, I'm greeted by the aching memory of the last time I was conscious. I fainted. I fainted! In front of all of District 11, in front of my fellow Dauntless. But what's even worse, it had been on live television. Everyone in the districts, the Summit, and the Capitol saw my flunk. What a repulsive act of sheer cowardice! Even if I make it back home alive, which is very unlikely, I will be rejected by all the Dauntless in District 11. Not Kelli or my mother, but everyone else will force me into years of humiliation.
But the remembrance doesn't tag me for long. No, only for a few seconds, probably a minute before I realize I am not alone in my bedroom quarters on the train. A man sits at the end of my bed, smiling down at me as my vision plays into focus. His hair is sand colored and shaggy, shaping his jaw to the fullest potential. His skin is a perfect shade of olive, like my mother's, only my mother's features are rough like any Dauntless aged twenty to thirty years old. He's smooth, I can tell just by looking at him. His face is utterly flawless, free of acne, scars, and freckles. His eyes are a bright hazel, and as he grins down at me with gleaming white teeth, he puts a long, rugged hand on my own that notifies me he does a lot of work with them.
"I know you," I say in a tired, early morning voice. "You're Blake Travetts, from Amity."
"And the victor from three years ago, yes, that's me." he smiles even wider. I definitely remember him. Winner of the third year of the Divergent Games, the first tribute from District 11 to go into the Games and come back alive. It's difficult for me to contemplate how someone from Amity could become Divergent, the faction that values peace. Yet he did, but I cannot remember exactly how he won. All that comes to mind was that he was really skilled with theft.
"You better get ready, we're only two hours away from the Summit." he stands and walks over to the door as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Just when he's about to leave, he turns back to me and grins. "Try not to faint again when your cosmetologists get a hold of you." he teases, and then disappears down the hallway. A remark like that should made me irritated, but because it's so early in the morning and I'm going to die soon anyway, it lightens me a bit. I try to hold in my smile, but I know Blake had already seen it before he left.
I take a warm shower, and after seeing Blake's gleaming white smile, well, let's just say I brush my teeth way longer than two minutes. After pulling on a long sleeve, cotton black shirt and dark shorts, I tie my hair back the way I always do, and apply my usual Dauntless makeup. I walk out of my quarters barefoot, and after getting lost several times, I finally found the dining cart.
Long tables and stands hold several varieties of decorative cakes, cupcakes, muffins, strudels, and other pastries I can't even name. Plates upon plates support exquisite chops and roasts of meat and every type of egg is available and cooked whatever way you can think of. Silver jugs of wine, cider, brandy, milk, and juice have been set out, but the thing that utterly ruins this amazing display of meat, fruit, vegetables, and desserts is the sight of Cameron Janson already eating at the dining table.
I try not to make eye contact with him as I fill up my plate with eggs, bacon, a muffin, and fresh toast, with a metallic glass of cider in the other hand. When I sit down to eat, I make sure I'm as far away from him as possible. As I look out the window, I see trees and deserts and mountains passing along. I know I'm on the train to the Summit, but I can barely feel the thing moving. I keep my head down as I eat, remembering how my family could not afford food as tasty as this. Sure, we bought eggs and sometimes meat from the butcher, but that food wasn't even half as fresh and good as this. It was like these eggs had just been laid by the chickens, scrubbed and polished and then cooked on an ultra-deluxe cooking stove while the meat had just been sliced off and kneaded down before put on a fancy Summit grill to sizzle. I know that all the poultry and livestock comes from District 10, but this is nothing like how the food looked when I imagined it.
I finish eating everything but my muffin when Cameron speaks up. "So, Renee." he starts, and I try to ignore him. "What are you trying to do?" I glance up as he leans on the table towards me. His eyebrows are raised like he really expects me to understand what he's asking.
"What are you talking about?" I ask after gulping down a sip of cider.
"The whole collapsing thing. I know it was fake. No Dauntless faints- ever." he pulls back away from the table and lays himself back on the spines of the chair he sits in, crossing his arms.
"Then I guess I've set a new record." I retort in a nonchalant voice, since I really don't want to deal with him right now. He's taller than me, with broad shoulders and muscles twice as big as mine when he flexes. His hair is shaggy and black, and his eyes are an intimidating green. He's tan like most Caucasian citizens of District 11, and I guess he could be handsome if I didn't hate him so much. I know I can bat better than him. I can. But our size difference told otherwise.
"Then you're a coward." he snorts, "And you won't make it ten minutes in these Games." he slyly averts his gaze to the window, like he's won this argument. Well, me being a hot headed person, my short temper gets the best of me. I plant my hands on the table hard and stand up, pushing my chair a few feet back away from me. I grab the sharpest knife I can find from my silverware set, hold it up in the air, and point the tip at him.
"They're already sending me to my death, as they are yours. Neither of us are going to get out alive, so I have no problem with severely injuring you now." I say it in just a loud enough voice to be threatening, but also low enough to state that I am not going to be the first one to lose my nerves and start yelling like any unstable Dauntless would. Cameron stands also, picking up an even longer knife, and points it straight back at me.
"You think I can't do this?" he says, his voice shaking from anger. "When that gong rings, you're going to be the first one I kill!" he's shouting now, and no matter how long he keeps this up, deep in his mind he'll know that I've already won our dispute. "You damn Dauntless poser, when I get my hands on you-"
Just then, the doors to the dining cart slide open and Blake steps in. Cameron turns around to see him, immediately lowering his knife, but slowly. He already knew Blake had been watching us, as did I, but I didn't care. "Let's put the knives down, now. Save that for training when you actually have to prove your strength to somebody." Blake states, and then fills up his own platter. Cameron, I guess he was just extremely furious with me, hurls his knife at the wall and it embeds itself into the paneling. He storms out, and before the dining cart doors can close on him, he flips me the bird- and instead of sending the gesture right back, I mouth the words he meant to me, to him.
Luckily Blake didn't see that, because he would probably go off on some peace and earth loving lecture to the both of us. I reluctantly sit back down in my chair, but I keep my knife clutched in my hand, just in case Cameron decides to make a reappearance. Blake makes his way back to the table, and sees the knife in the wall. Fortunately, all he does is sigh and sit down.
"Those are the Career type." Blake says, stuffing a forkful of eggs in his mouth. After he chews and swallows, he speaks again. "The ones that can't control their emotions. But most Careers eventually go insane with the power they believe they possess whether they win or lose, and neither way ends well." he's talking about both of us, Cameron and I. I may not have lost my cool first, but I was close to it. Plus, I was the one to start the knife fight.
"That's the kind of thing I would expect an Amity to say. But Cameron and I are Dauntless. It's in our nature to get angry." I don't look up from my glass of cider, but I know Blake stares at me.
"It's in a Dauntless' nature to be brave. You should not have done that. It was not wise to have already created an enemy for yourself, Renee." I stare at him for a moment.
"We already hated each other. Us going into the Divergent Games together wouldn't have changed that, and neither is some peace harboring hippie from Amity." and with that, I stand from the table and stomp out of the dining cart with a scowl imprinted across my cheeks. I don't know where I'm going, but eventually I find a living room and I end up sitting on a couch that faces a wide and long window on the train. Miles and miles of trees are rushing by, and just the sight of them reminds me of home. Especially of the woods I would pass through to get to the diamond Kelli and I played baseball in. The thought makes me ache, and I start to crave the touch and feel of my metal bat. It already feels like it's been years since I've last seen it, last played with it. But then the green of the forests loses touch with the train window and is replaced by a gleaming blue city, which can be no other place other than the Summit.
I swallow the anxious lump in my throat and stand. I leave the window and the living room and somehow I make my way back to my bedroom quarters on the train. I slip on shoes that look like the ones I used to wear back home that would flip outwards at my ankle, still wearing my half skull necklace, and start walking back to the dining cart. Thankfully, Blake is no longer here. He must have gone back to his room as well to freshen up. After walking through the dining cart, I make my way to a new room that looks like an entry way for the richer citizens of District 11, only five times as fancy. For a few minutes I just stand there at the window, watching the city go by. And then the room becomes dark, and I realize we are going through a tunnel.
When the light beams again, I have to squint, what with all the moving colors in front of my eyes. I hear Cameron and Blake enter the room, and we all watch, stunned, as thousands of Summit citizens cheer for their latest tributes. Well, maybe not Blake. He's obviously seen this kind of thing before, three times now. The train becomes dark again as we slow into a halt, and I guess we must have arrived at the station that connected to the Remake Center. Almost immediately, Officials hustle into the entry way of the train and escort Blake, Cameron, and I all out. We split up with two guards behind each of us, and I'm sent into a cold, metallic room.
There's a wide bench-table thing on one side at the far end of the room, and a giant tub on the other. There isn't much equipment in here, but on the wall between the tub and the bench, a silky black robe has been hung up. When I approach, I find that above it, a little screen keeps blinking the words, "Strip down and redress in the provided clothing. Your cosmetologists will be with you shortly". So I do as the screen says, since I know I'm going to find myself naked in front of glazed strangers anyway, whether I do what I'm told or not. After sliding on the black robe, I sit on the cold metal table, and study the walls until three odd looking people enter the room.
They're all from Amity, that's obvious. But Amity from the Summit always like good entertainment, even if it means watching the death of twenty three teenagers on live television. They're still all about peace, and I guess that if the Divergent Games were messed with, a war would explode and the Amity would be able to do nothing about it but watch. Suddenly, I'm surprised by my own thoughts. Why am I thinking like an Amity?
It's three girls, all dressed in several different shades of reds and yellows. One wears a long red dress embroidered with yellow gems that remind me of fire. Her fingers are gloved with yellow latex, which all of the girls have, and none of them look happy about. The girl has coppery brown hair that blazes and flows radically, so she looks like a ridiculous sun goddess. Another girl wears a strapless top that comes down to her knees in silky waves, and red pants that sway with every movement she makes. She has platinum blonde hair and yellowish skin that makes me think she's sick, but then I realize it's just another crazy Summit fashion. The last girl seems almost normal. Her dress is a bunch of different reds and yellows and it goes down to a few inches above her ankles, her hair hanging down straight and black over her shoulders with a few feathers in the strands here and there.
"Whoa!" the middle girl exclaims. Just from her remark I can tell she isn't the brightest one of the group. She rushes over to me and leans in front of me, which makes me feel really uncomfortable. "Look at those lips! I didn't know District 11 had plastic surgeons this good!" she puts up a tentative finger to touch my face, but I smack it away and turn my head towards the other girls.
"My lips are real, okay?" I scowl, and try to push her away from me without touching her. "Now back off, you're making me feel claustrophobic." she backs away, but she looks insulted. The other two girls approach, but they're careful to keep their distance. I sigh. "Look, can we just get this over with? I'm in a bad mood." they all look at me sympathetically, and then smile.
"Of course. We'll try to make it as painless as possible." the girl with black hair states, which sends a shudder through my body. What are they going to do that will give me pain? "My name is Aumora. This is Belinda," she points to the girl with coppery brown hair beside her who has yet to speak up. "and this is Ralenia." she gestures to the girl with yellow skin, and Aumora's eyebrows raise like she already knows my opinion of Ralenia, and agrees with me that she is, in fact, very dimwitted.
And that's when they tell me to lie down, and give me the most horrible pain I've ever felt probably in my entire life, and I still have yet to go into the Divergent Games.
End
Chapter Two
The Divergent Games