Oh my lord, I am SO sorry for not updating! My best friend Hannah and I have had exams all week, and I've been so busy with dance and cooking and friends' birthdays! I wish I had updated earlier, but I really couldn't.
I am very so very so very sorry..
Loads of love from me (and Hannah),
Lisa xxx
Chapter Nine
"Since there are ten of you, one pair will not have to fight today, there isn't enough time for all of you." Four says, stepping away from the boards, and I sigh in relief. I don't have to fight, and I don't have to fight Tris. I would have to hurt her. She's like my Faction buddy. I don't want to hurt her in any way.
"This isn't good." Christina nudges Tris, who bumps into my. Her elbow must have prodded a sore muscle of Tris, because she nearly elbows me in pain. She winces, and Christina mumbles an apology.
"Sorry, but look, I'm up against the Tank." She whispers, and I look up at the board. The name is "Molly", she is going to kill Christina. I freeze up, and stiffen, I don't want to watch someone get beaten by a bully, especially not Christina; not after Marcus.
I love Christina like the sister I never had. She's basically Max, but without the boyishness and more femininity. She's always looking out for Tris, which is what I'm glad for, because Tris was my first friend; before Dillion and Tobias. She was always there for me, so now me and Christina have to be there for her. She's sweet and kind, but totally Dauntless and daring. Christina is who I aspire to be. She's like a mix of the Factions, without Erudite, she isn't all that clever, apparently.
"The Tank?" Tris asks, and I whisper to her, as not to let Peter hear.
"Peter's more feminine-looking minion." I reply, nodding toward the small group of people on the other side of the room. Molly is tall, much like Christina, but that's where all the similarities end. She has broad shoulders, while Christina is quite petite; she has bronze skin, like Chris is more tanned and lighter; Molly has a bulbous nose, Christina's nose fits her perfectly.
"Those three-" Christina points to Peter, Molly and another boy, who seems to be in their circle-"have been inseparable since they crawled out of the womb, practically. I hate them." I nod along with her an stare at them. I hate them too.
Will and Al stand across from each other in the arena. They are on guard, their hands by their faces in protection. They shuffle in circles around each other, careful to not let their guard drop, and not let the other get hurt. Al is half a foot taller than Will, and is twice as broad. Al is generally bigger than Will. He has a bigger nose, lips, eyes, even his teeth are bigger than the average human's. This fight won't last long at all, if Al starts to move in, or if Will throws a punch.
I glance at Peter, not much at his friends, as I know Tris is also watching them. The other boy is short, shorter than Peter and Molly; but he is built for this sort of thing. He's as large as a boulder, and his shoulders are always hunched, or maybe they're drooped. Not too sure. His hair is blood orange, maybe red; the color of a shriveled carrot.
"What's wrong with them?" Tris asks, looking the three over,
"Peter is pure evil. When we were kids, he would pick fights with other people from other factions, and when an adult would come and break it up, he'd cry and make up some story about how the other kid started it. And of course they believed him, because we were Candor, and couldn't lie." She wrinkles her nose in disgust and adds. "Drew is just his sidekick. I doubt he has any independent thought in his brain. And Molly... well, she's the kind of person who fries ants with a magnifying glass just to watch them flail around." She finishes and I nod, turning back to the three; so that's his name, Drew.
In the arena, everyone is brought out of their thoughts when Al punches Will hard, across the jaw. I wince and spot everyone else who cares doing the same. Across the room, Eric smirks at Al and turns one of the rings in his eyebrows. I hate him too. He scares me.
Will stumbles to the side, one hand pressed to his face, and blocks Al's next punch with his free hand. Judging my his grimace, blocking the punch is as painful as the full blow would have been. Al is slow, but he's powerful.
Peter, Drew and Molly cast furtive looks in our direction and they pull their heads together, whispering.
"I think they know we're talking about them." Tris whispers and I laugh out loud, drawing attention to me. I mouth sorry and turn my head back to the other two.
"Honey, they know we hate them." I say, and Chris nods.
"How?" Tris asks, and me and Christina turn in unison, put on a dashing fake smile and wave at them, jokingly. Tris looks down, her cheeks heating up into a blush. Embarrassed. I love gossiping, it's great. I look over to the fight and see Will hook a foot around Al's legs and yanking back, knocking Al to the ground. Al scrambles back to his feet.
"Because I've told them." She says, her teeth gritted into a smile. Her teeth are straight on top, but slightly crooked on the bottom. She looks at us. "We try to be pretty honest about our feelings in Candor. Plenty of people have told me they don't like me, and plenty of people haven't. Who cared?" She asks, and Tris shakes her head.
"We weren't supposed to hurt people purposefully." Tris whispers and I shake my head this time.
"I like to think I'm helping them by hating them." She shrugs. "I'm reminding them that they aren't God's gift to humankind."
I laugh at that, and so does Tris, as we all focus back on the arena. Will and Al face each other for a few more seconds, more hesitant than I was before. Will flicks his pale hair from his face and they glance at Four, like they're waiting for him to call the fight off, but he stands with his arms folded, giving no response. A few feet away, Eric checks his watch.
"Do you think this is a leisure activity? Should we break for nap-time? Fight each other." Eric screams, and a chill runs down my spine; not a good one. I have a feeling he will move, and then he will be closer to me, and I don't want that.
"But..." Al straightens, letting his hands down, and he says, "Is it scored or something? When does the fight end?"
"It ends when one of you is unable to continue." Says Eric, but then Four steps in.
"According to Dauntless rules, one of you could also concede." He glares at Eric, and he narrows his eyes in return.
"According to the OLD rules, yeah." He snickers. "The new rules state that no-one can concede."
"A brave man acknowledges the strength of other." Four replies, calmly.
"A brave man never surrenders."
Eric and Four stare at each other for a few seconds. I feel like I am looking at the two sides of Dauntless; the honorable and the ruthless. But even I know that in this room, Eric holds the authority. Beads of sweat dot Al's forehead, he wipes them with the back of his hand.
"This is ridiculous." Al says, shaking his forehead, the sweat flying everywhere, "What's the point of beating him up? We're in the same faction!"
"Oh, you think it's going to be that easy?" Will tests, grinning at his friend. "Go on, try and hit me, slowpoke. So that's the game. Turn it into something like a joke, something enjoyable, so it hurts less when you watch your friend crumple to the floor in front of you?
Will puts his hands up again, and I am sure everyone can see the determination that dons Will's eyes. Al tries to punch, but Will dodges, the back of his neck shining with sweat. He dodges another punch, slipping around Al and kicking him hard in the back. Al lurches forwards, and turns.
He looks menacing, terrifying. He looks like a bear; something we learnt about in Lower School. There was a picture on the board of one, it was on its hind legs, with its paws outstretched and it was roaring so loudly. That is how Al looks to me. He charges at Will, grabbing his arm so he can't slip away and punches him in the same spot on the jaw.
I watch as the light leaves Will's eyes, which are pale green, much paler than mine or Peter's. They roll back into his head and all the tension falls from his body as he crumples to the floor. Cold rushes to me, and Al's eyes widen.
He crouches down, next to Will's body and taps his cheek. The room falls silent as we all wait for Will to respond. For a few seconds, he just lies there, and it looks like we aren't going to get a response, but then his eyes open, and he looks dazed for a second.
"Get him up." Eric barks. He stares with greedy eyes at Will's fallen body, like a tiger that hasn't seen food for a week. The curl of his lip is cruel. Four turns to the chalkboard and circles Al's name. He has victory.
"Next up- Molly and Christina." Eric shouts, as Al pulls Will's arm across his shoulders, struggling under the added weight and drags him out of the arena. Christina cracks her knuckles from beside me. I would wish her all the luck in the world if I thought it could help her, but I know it won't. Christina isn't weak, she just isn't Molly. Her body is narrow, and hopefully her height and slim will help her escape the blows enough to get a few in herself.
Across the room, Four takes Will's arm, and starts to escort him from the room, leaving Al behind; and I know I can't watch this fight, so I run to catch up, taking a quick stride and take half of Will's body weight from Four.
"I thought you could use some help, and I can't watch that fight with Eric being the judge." I explain myself, and instead of shouting, he just nods, and we haul Will down to the infirmary, to get him something for his bad concussion and to stop him babbling.
...
I head back to the area, but it's empty, and people are leaving, following Eric, who is half dragging Christina out of the room. I am confused, but I follow. We head towards the chasm, and I can feel the river and waterfall in my chest, vibrating my heart.
We stand right next to the railing. The Pit is almost empty, everyone is either working or relaxing; it is the middle of the afternoon. If there was anyone around, they wouldn't help us. Eric is a leader, they're just citizens. He shoves Christina against the railings and she gasps a breath.
"Climb over." He states, simply and she coughs up her words.
"What?" She says, like she expects him to relent, but her wide eyes and ashen face suggests otherwise.
"Climb over the railing." He says again, and this time he pronounces every word and syllable slowly. "If you can hang over the chasm for five minutes, I will forget your cowardice. If you can't, I will not allow you to continue with initiation." I can see the determination in her eyes as she looks at the railing. It is metal, but narrow. The spray from the river and waterfall coats it in water droplets, and makes it slippery and cold. Even if Christina is brave enough to hang for five minutes, she may not be able to hang on. Either she decides to be Factionless, or she flirts with death.
"Fine." She mutters, her voice shaking. She swings her legs over the railing, her feet shake, and she is barely strong enough to hold herself there like that. She puts her toe on the ledge and lifts the other legs over properly. Facing us, she wipes her hands on her pants and holds onto the railing so hard that her knuckles turn white. She then throws her legs off of the railing ledge and hangs over the edge of the river.
I push my way to the front as she dangles there, all of the initiates watching. I am glad I returned now, she can use my help to let her up when the five minutes is done. Al has set his watch for five minutes. The river starts to hit the wall, changing direction every now and again, spraying Christina with it's cold droplets, and making the railing harder to hang on to. She gets a better grip, but her hands are wet, and won't last.
If we help her now, Eric would make our fate the same as hers, but possibly for longer. Will I let her fall to her death if she slips? No. But I will not let Eric know that for now. If she falls, I will help her, but I cannot let Eric see our weakness, he will just rank us lower, and then we'd all be Factionless.
Christina doesn't cry. I have never seen her cry since we got here, she doesn't. But now, tears are rolling down her face and her sobbing is so loud, it isn't hushed by the river. Another wave hits the wall and the spray coats her. One droplet hits her cheeks, and her hands slip again. This time, one of them falls, and she is only hanging on by four fingers.
"Come in, Christina." Al encourages, his voice low, but loud across the chasm. She looks at him, and he claps. "Come on, grab it again. I know you can do it." I nod slowly, and smile at him. He's kind.
I can't help her much now, she only has two minutes left at most. Most. I know that I am just trying to distract myself from pulling her up myself. She swings her arm, fumbling with the railing. No-one else cheers her on, but Al brings his hands together again and shouts, his eyes holding hers. Like his eyes are giving her the strength to hold on. I know he feels bad for knocking Will out, so he's trying to help the next most important thing to him. Four minute have gone, one left. I try and encourage her further. I kneel, and look her right in the eye from my level.
"You can do it, girl. One minute left. Who will braid Tris's hair if you're gone, who will do my eyeliner, and pick out my clothes. Lord knows that Tris isn't going to do it." I am encouraging her at her own level. Tris has joined in now, her voice barely above a whisper, but is loud enough for us to hear it. Me, Al and Tris are all cheering her on now. Another wave hits the wall and splashes her back. She shrieks as both of her hands slip, but she grabs another part of the barrier as Tris screams. Al's watch bleeps, it's hit 5:00.
"Five minutes. That's enough." I spit my words at him, and he seems surprised for a moment, and then covers it. He takes his time, tilting his wrist, all the while I am ready to pull Christina up. My arms are ready and I am determined.
"Fine, you can come up Christina." He spits her name like it's dirt. I can't deal with it. I lean forwards to pick her up, but he shakes his hand and grabs my wrist.
"She can do it herself. She has to do it on her own." He lets go of my wrist and Al hold me back.
"No, she doesn't. She did what you said, she's not a coward. She did what you said." Al growls, and Eric doesn't reply at all. Al reaches over the railing to grab Christina's wrist, while I use my lower body strength to pull her upright. She grabs his forearm and his pulls her, while I push her body up. Tris grabs her shoulder once she's high enough, and we all haul her over the edge. She drops to the ground, freezing, her face smeared with blood, which I assume was from the fight, her back is soaking and she is quivering. I hold her close to me, hugging her, giving her my warmth. Her eyes lift to all of ours, and we all catch our breath.