After her early hour, breakfast, and warm ups, Four separated them into pairs for light sparring. Honey and Beth had been put together, probably because Beth was the closest to her in size and strength. They circled each other awkwardly, at first, but soon both girls became more comfortable. They weren't supposed to be hurting each other, after all. Just working on the movements. Fifteen minutes into the exercise, Honey spotted Eric walking through the room. She flushed, remembering her humiliation the last time she saw him, but he didn't so much as flick an eye in her direction as he headed to speak with Four.
"He must be checking on our progress," Beth said, tapping Honey's shoulder to reclaim her attention. She tried to focus on the sparring, not wanting to give the young leader anything else to sneer at. It was like he read her mind, because a moment later, his voice rang out.
"First jumper!" Her head spun towards him fast enough to make her neck crack. "C'mon, time to fight."
"Oh God," she whispered, eyes wide. Her feet were moving before she knew it, her brain trailing after. If the rest of her were as strong as her pounding heart, she'd be first in the class. The other initiates were gathering around the raised platform where Eric and Four stood by one corner. Surely, she wouldn't be fighting one of them.
"Get in the ring," he ordered, motioning her up. She nodded, climbing the two steps to stand on the canvas. "Last jumper."
A collective gasp rose from the class. She might have been better off against one of the men. Jacob stepped forward with an ugly smirk.
"He can't be serious," she heard someone say, but couldn't make out who it was over the pounding in her ears.
"In the real world, you don't get to choose your opponent," Eric informed them in the same tone a teacher might use to recite a text book. "Doesn't matter how big they are."
That was true. Still, though. In the real world, she probably wouldn't have gone after Jacob for a tussle. She'd have run as fast as her short legs would carry her. Or maybe just shot him, if that were an option.
"What are the rules?" Jacob asked, darkly eager. Yeah, he really was not cut out for Amity.
"You fight until one of you can't anymore," Eric answered.
Four quickly added, "Or one of you concedes. Say you quit or tap out."
Eric nodded to the side, as if it were immaterial. "But, a Dauntless never gives up. If you're a coward, you don't belong here."
Honey looked at the hulking boy across the ring. He could really hurt her. He would really hurt her. The only thing she had on him, maybe, was speed. Jacob looked back at her with a feral kind of grin.
"Don't just stare at each other; fight!" Eric commanded.
Jacob advanced on her. The thudding of his footfalls shook the whole platform. Honey tried to take a defensive stance, but it was hard as she had to retreat and make sure to watch the edge of the ring so she didn't fall off it. She should have risked it and not taken her eyes off her opponent. She looked back just in time to see Jacob's knuckles careening towards her face. The girl spun away, but he followed and his fist connected with the back of her shoulder. It felt like she got hit by an anvil. The blow sent her sprawling to the mat with a yelp of pain. Jacob didn't persist; either giving her time to recover because he wanted to draw this out or he was as unused to fighting as the rest of them and thought he was supposed to.
She managed to get back up, but her whole shoulder was numb. As soon as she was on her feet, Jacob came after her. He swung again and she tried to dodge, but his knuckles still grazed her cheekbone. When you're talking about an anvil, a grazing still hits hard. Her face exploded in pain and she fell again. She moved to get up, but the room was spinning and she flopped back onto her ass. Jacob hadn't even broken a sweat.
Honey held up her hands in a T shape. "Time-out."
"What?" The boy took a step back, perplexed.
"There's no time-outs," Eric snapped from the corner. It was good for her that he had; she had gotten so turned around, she didn't know where he and Four were.
"No, time-out," she insisted, struggling to her feet. She staggered over to the two men. Eric's eyes were wide, aggravated and surprised by her gall. Four at least looked concerned. A little. "What are the rules?"
Her instructor leaned in, trying to get a look at her eyes. The leader scoffed, pointing back towards the middle of the platform.
"Get back over there and fight!"
She hissed softly, so only they would be able to hear. "Is there anything we're not allowed to do?"
"Yes, call a time-out," Four said. He opened his mouth to say more, probably ask if she wanted to quit, but this time Eric leaned in and cut him off.
"You do whatever you need to to win," he said, with an air of ominous finality. "Or you don't."
She nodded. Then she stopped nodding, because it threw her off balance. She turned back to face Jacob and waved a hand at him to indicate they could resume. He looked to the corner, unsure of what just happened. Eric swung out his arm towards Honey, the motion sharp from agitation. That was enough for Jacob and he advanced on her menacingly. She stumbled away, hands touching the mat here and there to keep herself on her feet. Her drunken legs made her slow and Jacob caught up easily. He reached down for her with one hand, clearly looking to hold her in place, while he drew back his other fist.
Honey seized her one chance. She grabbed his arm the way Four had shown them to bring an adversary closer, propelling herself towards him at the same time. He wasn't expecting it and was off balance, besides, so he fell into her. She brought up her knee as hard as she could, hoping his own weight and momentum would give her hit extra power. Jacob grunted loudly as her kneecap connected with his groin, dropping like a ton of bricks onto the mat and taking her with him.
The class erupted, as teenagers are wont to do. She rolled to her knees, tilting to the side for a moment before recovering. Drawing back her own fist, she punched him in the face. It was like punching a friggin' rock. She probably hurt her hand worse than she did him. Still, she went to hit him again. He flung out his arm and hammered her across the chest, knocking her back a good three feet. Down to the mat she went again, Jacob following with a roar of fury. He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her, then slammed her back against the mat. Once, then again her head bounced off the wooden platform, and she didn't know what happened after that.
When Honey came back to the world again, she was being carried off the mat by Calhoun and Four, strapped to a flat panel. She couldn't really focus, but could hear people talking in the background. She tried to speak, to tell them to just give her a minute and she'd be fine, but couldn't get the words to make proper sense. Trying to sit up would have been futile, given the straps. She peered around curiously as they carried her through the compound to a room she'd never seen. A nice man there gave her a shot and the world faded away again.
She drifted in and out for a while and when Honey came fully back to her senses, she was in bed and feeling no pain. She peered sleepily up at Beth who looked beside herself. She also had a black eye.
"Did you win?"
"What?" the slim, raven haired girl asked.
"Your eye," Honey said, by way of explanation. Beth reached up to touch her face, but shook her head.
"No. I lost. I conceded." She seemed embarrassed. Honey shook her head.
"Hey, you'll get 'em next time." She stretched with a comfortable sigh. "What time is it?"
"Almost dinner."
Honey blinked. Then she sat bolt upright, which sent the room teetering out of control. "What?!"
Beth gently pushed her back down. "Honey, you're in the infirmary. Jacob gave you a concussion."
"Oh, no!" The smaller girl moaned, dejected. "I missed the gun range?" Beth nodded. "Did Eric go?" She nodded again. "No! Come on!"
"Please, calm down," Beth begged, looking around frantically for the nurse. Honey collapsed back onto the bed, all but in tears. Her chance to redeem herself in the leader's eyes; gone.
"Oh, I blew it," she groaned softly.
"No, you didn't. It was ridiculous of them to put you up against Jacob. He's twice your size! What did they think would happen?"
"I should have let him punch me a couple more times and then quit," she huffed, absolutely miserable.
"Hey, you did great!" Beth insisted. Honey scoffed. "You'll get other chances to show off your gun skills."
"You don't understand."
"I really don't," Beth agreed.
"Well, now what? How long do I have to stay here?"
"They said overnight. Just to be sure."
Honey sighed, rubbing the back of her thumb against her forehead. At least she wouldn't have to use the barracks toilet. Her new life at was not turning out the way she'd envisioned. It was too early to give up, she knew, logically, but that didn't make her feel better. She didn't feel very Dauntless.
Honey missed her early training the next morning, because the doctor would only release her to Four. While she waited for him, she leaned against the bathroom sink, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheek was such a shade of purple that it looked painted on. It had swelled up the night before, but the nurse gave her a topical anti-inflammatory and it had since returned to a semblance of normal. There was a knot on the back of her head where it had hit the mat and the doctor said she was lucky that's all. If they'd been on the ground, Jacob might have killed her. There was a large bruise on the back of her shoulder, as well, but it was too much of an annoyance to look at. So she was staring at her face, lightly stroking her fingers across the skin, marveling at the mark and the way it felt, when she heard someone approach.
"Hey, how do you feel?" Four asked from the doorway. She shrugged.
"Disappointed," Honey admitted. "But I'll get over it."
"Good. Come on, you need to eat."
The first rankings had been posted while she was out of commission, so Honey didn't see them until after breakfast. She was dead last. Because she'd lost her fight so miserably and hadn't been able to shoot that day, her score was abysmal. She stared at the board for a long while, stewing in her disappointment and anger. The fact that the doctor had told her she couldn't go near a fist today would not help her standing. From first to last. Eric had told the others - while she was incapacitated - that they would be graded daily and the rankings would update accordingly. It was still early in the first stage of training. With her shooting capacity, she could make up some ground, but if she didn't do better at fighting, it would be a wash. She gritted her teeth and stalked over to her favorite dummy. Her punches were messy, caused by the combination of the pain in her shoulder and back, the pain in her head, and the pain in her heart.
Her spirits lifted a bit as they marched up to the firing range, but came crashing down to earth when her shots all missed their mark. Her vision was off. It was hard to focus properly. Honey was terrified her fight with Jacob had caused some kind of permanent injury. Despite her agreement with Four to not skip meals, she eschewed the mess hall at dinner and went straight to the barracks. Alone in the shower, water beating down on her, even she couldn't tell if there were tears pouring from her eyes. The water was as hot as she could stand, steam billowing all around, and she turned the knob even higher. Hissing through her teeth, she cringed and tensed, huffing out a silent groan of discomfort, but didn't step away or adjust the heat.
By the time she heard the others come back to the barracks, every mirror and bit of chrome in the bathroom was fogged over. She turned off the spray and quickly dried herself with a coarse towel that was harsh on her pink, nearly scalded skin. Without a word to her friends or anyone else, she crawled into her bunk and passed out.
The next morning, when the pain of her alarm clock woke her, Honey lay on her cot and stared at the ceiling. Should she even bother? Maybe she should just learn to like grass. And standing out in the hot sun all day. And doing nothing for the rest of her life. Like a walking corpse.
A Dauntless never gives up. She could hear Eric's words in her mind. If you're a coward, you don't belong here.
Four was actually waiting for her when Honey arrived at the gym. "For a second, I thought you weren't going to show."
"No, just a little slow this morning," she assured him, rolling her bad shoulder.
As she taped up her hands, he said, "I want to go over what we covered yesterday while you were staring at the rankings and sulking." He leaned down to look at her eyes, his own deep brown gaze expectant as ever and without pity.
"How's your focus?"
"Clear as a bell," she said lightly. In more ways than one. Dauntless or death.
Honey didn't want to fight Daisy, but you don't get to choose your opponents. Really, though, if you're fighting with your friend, at least one of you made that choice. They squared off in the ring, sizing each other up. Four stood at the same corner as before, arms crossed, stoic as always. Eric was not there, which Honey was both grateful for and disappointed by. There was somehow less pressure without his presence, even though the scores would be tabulated the same regardless. But, without him there, she couldn't prove him wrong. If she could prove him wrong, anyway.
The blonde girl had superior height, reach, and grace on her side. It was no surprise that she was probably the most agile fighter in the class. If Honey wanted to stand a chance, she would have to take her down fast. Her long, slim legs were the most obvious target. Too obvious?
Daisy stepped forward suddenly, throwing a jab that Honey easily put aside. She responded in kind. Where Daisy's strikes were careful, like she didn't want to hurt her friend too badly, Honey's were strong and sure; she wanted to win. But Daisy still had her outclassed and not a single one of her punches landed. The sweet-faced Amity transfer danced around her like a golden mongoose teasing a snake - a weak, stubby snake.
Daisy darted forward, her fist shooting out and snapping Honey's head back. Her elbow followed, catching the other girl across the jaw. Mistake. She'd come in too close, negating the advantage of her long limbs. Honey rolled with the blow, turning her body to the side, so Daisy's momentum carried her forward. She grabbed hold of that flowing sunshine ponytail and dropped to the mat. Her opponent's head snapped back like a rubber band and she went down with a sharp bark of surprise. Honey quickly scrambled atop her to pin her down before she could recover.
Daisy struggled, swinging her fist into Honey's ribs. The smaller girl caught her wrist, shifting swiftly to pin it behind her own bent knee. She flattened her hand on Daisy's other bicep, holding her down and hit her again and again, pummeling that pretty face. By the time Daisy slapped her hand on the mat, surrendering the fight, she was a bloody mess.
Honey immediately stopped, hopping back off her friend. She was panting heavily, sore and exhausted, but felt elated. She'd won. She'd actually won. Daisy rolled over, coughing and spitting blood onto the canvas. Beth and Hotdog rushed forward to help her up, looking at Honey oddly. She realized she was smiling and not a small, private smile either. She opened her mouth to apologize, but nothing came out. She wasn't sorry. This is what she was supposed to do. They all knew that.
Maybe it was the fact she had enjoyed it so much that bothered them.
After the range, when Honey's adrenaline had finally worn off, her stomach was in knots. Daisy had been taken to the infirmary and come back to training halfway through shooting practice. Her nose had been taped up and there were deep eggplant rings under both her eyes. In an odd twist of fate, Honey had actually caused the damage she'd idly imagined before. Now, Daisy hadn't turned up for dinner. The remaining four barely spoke, focusing on their meals. Honey knew they were sneaking looks at her when they thought she couldn't see. It was Erudite all over again.
Fifteen minutes into the meal, a girl dropped into the spot they'd left empty for Daisy and Hotdog started to tell her the seat was taken, but cut himself off with a loud, "Whoa! What happened to you?"
The girl none of them had recognized at first notice, staring at their trays as they were, was Daisy. He hadn't been referring to her injuries, either, but her hair. All Daisy's long, lustrous golden tresses were gone. The sides of her head had been shorn almost to the skin; all that remained was a two inch stripe in the middle of her head, running from her forehead to the nape of her neck. The short mohawk was gelled into a wild bramble and dyed the brightest pink Honey had ever seen.
"Wow!" Beth exclaimed, her eyes wide.
"It was time for a change," Daisy said, firmly, grabbing up a roll with a stern expression.
"I like it," Calhoun offered. He sounded less than positive about that, so it might just have been his Amity talking.
"It looks very Dauntless." When Honey spoke, Daisy paused, her hand stretched towards the pan of meatloaf. The others seemed to be holding their breath.
"Thanks," the tall girl said, slowly taking a slice, not looking up.
"I'm not going to apologize," Honey told her. She hadn't done anything wrong and she wasn't Amity, lying to pacify a tense situation. She wanted Daisy's friendship. But she needed to fight hard.
"No, that wouldn't be very Dauntless of you." The other girl finally lifted her gaze to meet Honey's and, after a tense moment more, one side of her mouth quirked up sardonically. "I should probably thank you. I don't think I could have made myself cut it all off otherwise."
A great rush of relief flooded the group as the tension broke. Hotdog actually slumped against the table dramatically.
"Next time, you're gonna kick my ass," Honey mused, narrowing her eyes. "That was the only advantage I had."
"Too bad," Daisy smirked. "You'll just have to work harder."
She did work harder, but it wasn't enough. The only thing Honey had going for her in the ring was the element of surprise and her growing reputation for fighting dirty. She bit, she pulled hair, she went after sensitive areas no one else did. She also lost, again and again. Each match ended the same way, Honey laying dazedly on the mat, more often than not, bleeding. She wondered if her bruises would all join together eventually and leave her looking like a human blueberry.
Her shooting was the only thing keeping her in the mid-range of the ranking. She'd finally been able to display her skill for Eric. After an abysmal failure in the ring, sporting a black eye that was darker than Daisy's even had been, she all but bounced her way up the roof. They ran High-Low drills first, lining up at one end of the range before working their way down, pausing at each target to fire a standing and a kneeling shot before moving on. Of course, Honey was flawless. Then they worked on their ranged shots. This time, each successive firing point was further from the target, marked by orange lines spray-painted on the rooftop. They only moved on when they'd hit within a circle on the dummy's head or torso.
Eric stopped the exercise to single out one of the candor transfers after he missed three shots in a row. He always had trouble, because he flinched every time his gun fired. "How does it feel to be dead?"
The boy, Joseph, stuttered, beyond intimidated by the condemnatory glare his leader focused on him.
"Because that's what you are," he went on. He pointed at the target dummy. "He just blew you away, along with whoever was standing next to you."
Joseph could only stand there speechless. Eric jerked his rifle away in disgust and held it up for the rest of them to see.
"Your weapon should be a part of you, just like your arm. You control it or you don't pick it up to begin with." He grabbed Joseph by the front of his shirt, pushing him between himself and the targets. "You move, you fail."
Eric lifted the gun to his shoulder, raising the barrel to point over the boy's shoulder, the muzzle only a couple of inches from his face. Fail? If Joseph moved, he could die! The man squeezed the trigger, firing a shot. The rifles weren't very loud, but it was right next to his ear, so no one was surprised when Joseph flinched hard. Eric fired again and again and poor Joe just couldn't take it. He dropped to his hands and knees, panting like a frightened dog beside Eric's long legs.
"Pathetic," their leader sneered, dropping the rifle to his side. He shoved Joseph with his boot, knocking him down flat. "You're done. Get outta my sight."
The boy rose to his feet, hunched over in a pitiful cringe and made his way quickly off the roof. Eric moved to place the rifle down on the table with the unused ammunition, then motioned for them to continue, as though nothing had happened. A few minutes later, Honey stepped up for her turn and quickly made her way down the line, only pausing for the time it took to fire the one shot she needed at each target. Her last shot, the farthest line, was about as close to the center of the chest circle as one could hope for.
"Impressive," Eric intoned from a few feet away and, for once, he didn't sound like he was talking to something he meant to scrape off his boot. She might just float off the roof because of that. Finally. He came to stand beside her. "Can you do it again?"
She immediately lifted her rifle and hit the head circle, just left of center. Then, she fired twice more. It looked like eyes and a nose. The class laughed softly as she lowered her gun to look up at him. He wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked pissed.
"You think that's cute?" He asked harshly, shoulders tense, jaw tight.
Honey swallowed hard and shook her head, even though an instant before, she had thought it just that. He snatched her rifle away, the same as he had Joseph's. Then he pointed it between her eyes. Several people gasped audibly. Honey didn't even blink. Was he trying to scare her? She knew he wouldn't shoot her intentionally. He'd obviously had more than enough experience with a rifle not to fire accidentally. He was making a point, she understood that, but she wasn't afraid. She just looked at him passed the barrel of her weapon and waited.
"This is not a toy," he told her. His tone was soft, but menacing, raising the hair at the back of her neck. "You use this to kill and not to play. Treat it with respect."
His eyes were piercing, unwaveringly locked on her own, demanding every ounce of her attention and her obedience. Out here on the roof, in the sunshine, they were as blue as the sky, but no less like stone - topaz instead of slate. She nodded, the metal of the muzzle brushing her skin. He held her gaze a moment longer, then slowly took the rifle away.
"Get off the roof. You're done." She bit the inside of her lip, furious and crushed at the same time, then spun on her heel and stalked away. Beth reached out for her as she passed, but even if she could stop, Honey didn't want to.
The second the door to the rooftop closed behind her, she threw her fist into the wall with a shout. She just couldn't win with that guy! Worse, this time, she had nothing to blame but her own foolishness. He was right, she had been showing off and playing with the gun. She scowled her way down the stairs. Joseph was sitting about halfway down, his head in his hands. He looked up when he saw her coming, blinking in surprise. Even in the shadowy stairwell, she could see the redness around his eyes and the shine of tears on his cheeks. Well, crap.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, quickly wiping at his face.
"Eric made an example of me, too," she admitted, sitting beside him with a huff.
"What'd you do?"
"Something stupid." She scratched her scalp, frowning mightily. "Are you really scared of the rifle?"
He shrugged. "No. I don't know. I can't get used to the sound of it."
"Really? It's just the sound?"
"It's like someone flicking me in the ear every time I shoot," he said, miserably. "And then he had it right in my face. I just freaked out!"
"Yeah… I can see how that would be scary." She couldn't, but why make him feel worse than he already did? "If it's just the sound, you should go get one of those audio-file players. Tomorrow, record your rifle reports and then just listen to them all the time."
Joseph looked at her, his eyes as wide as the swollen lids would allow. "You think that would work?"
"I don't know," she admitted. Then grinned, thinking of Beth. "But it's worth a shot."
He chuckled, but it seemed like a reflex more than anything else.
"You're weird, you know that?" Ah, the charm of Candor. "Like, really weird. Why are you always helping people? You know it really is going to hurt your ranking, like Jacob said."
"We're all Dauntless, now. The better we are, the better the faction is. If I let the faction suffer, just so I'm better off, what does that make me?"
"What do you want to do after initiation is over?" He asked, suddenly. Her lips quirked to one side.
"I don't know, really. I figured I'd cross that bridge when I get to it."
"If you do really great in stage two, you should go for leadership. You sound like a leader. I think you've got the right idea." Honey stared at him, both blown away by the idea of her being a leader - something she'd never even considered - and genuinely touched that he thought she should be one.
"Thanks."
"I'm gonna go do what you said." He stood and looked down at her. "You want to come, too? See the shops and all?"
She stood as well, but shook her head. "There's a dummy in the gym that's probably lonely without me."
