Chapter Ten

"I ignore my fear," I say. "When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist."

I gaze out at the horizon, a dark, jagged line broken by the tops of buildings, and my mind shifts to the decision I made not ten minutes ago. I am fairly certain that a potential victory in capture the flag didn't warrant risking my life.

I must have had ulterior motives.

I can feel Tris' eyes on me. I stare at my hands, pretending to be interested in them. I look up, and she's still staring at me. What is she thinking about?

"What?" I say softly.

She looks away. "Nothing."

Her eyes are now focused on the city in front of us, and the building that blocks our view. She bites her lip. I know what she's about to say before she says it, and I don't like it.

"We're not high enough," she mutters.

A clever plan disguised as a suicide mission- that is what this is.

Above us, the wheel's scaffolding is a jumble of white bars. The space where the crossbars join is just wide enough for someone to wedge their foot if they wanted to climb. Or if they had a death wish. One mistake – that is all it would take.

"I'm going to climb," Tris tells me. She swings her legs back onto the platform and stands, grabbing a bar above her head and pulling herself up.

"For God's sake, Stiff," I groan, dragging a hand across my face.

"You don't have to follow me."

I watch her chest expand as she takes a breath, and then she's shoving her foot into the v shape where the bars cross. She grabs another bar, pulls herself up again. Her arms are trembling from exertion.

I push my fear to the back of my mind and lock the door.

"Yes," I say, "I do."

I stand. Grab a bar. Wedge my foot. Pull myself up. I try to match my heartbeats to that rhythm. I hear nothing but the pulsing of my blood in my ears. My fingers ache from gripping the bars so tightly, but the alternative is falling one hundred feet to the ground.

Tris is just above me now. I concentrate on the backs of her sneakers as I grasp the next bar, find another place to shove my foot. My body is charged with adrenaline; I don't feel a burn in my muscles when I hoist myself up to the next foothold, just the rusted bars beneath my fingers.

Tris pauses for a moment, looking out at the city again. Her eyes widen, and she gasps. "See that?" she says, pointing.

I climb a few feet higher so I'm directly behind her, my chin next to her head and my chest close to her back. She smells like soap and something sweet. I ignore the fluttering in my stomach and follow her gaze. The city is cloaked in a thick curtain of darkness, the blinking red light atop the Hub providing the only illumination. I can barely make out the shadowy outlines of the buildings against the navy blue sky. I squint, peering to the left and down a little, where Tris is pointing. And then I see it. A tiny pulsing light in the center of Grant Park. A search party would have spent ages trying to find it.

"Yeah," I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. "It's coming from the park at the end of the pier. Figures," I say. "It's surrounded by open space, but the trees provide some camouflage. Obviously not enough. "

"Okay," she says, turning to face me. We're so close that the city below me disappears, but I'm still breathless nonetheless. Her eyelashes are long and dark, and a few faint freckles spot her nose, which is pink from the wind. I wish the wind would press us closer.

"Um," she says, and I blink. She clears her throat awkwardly, her cheeks bright. "Start climbing down. I'll follow you," she tells me.

I nod and step down. I can't control my shaking hands around the bars as I guide myself back down.

I start at the sound of metal clattering against metal, the clang of a cross bar against pavement. Tris is dangling above me, feet suspended in mid-air, her life hanging by ten fingers clenched tight around the scaffolding.

"Four!" she cries.

I look around frantically, my mind on hyper-alert. There. The control platform in the center of the wheel. If I can climb down fast enough, I can pull the lever and start the wheel's rotation to the ground.

"Hold on! Just hold on," I'm yelling, "I have an idea."

I descend rapidly, my hands slick with sweat. Desperation courses through me like wildfire; each second I waste could be Tris's last. I reach the platform's ladder and hurry down it, my sneakers squeaking against the metal rungs. I drop down to the platform.

"Four!" she shouts, her voice anguished.

I take the red lever in my hands and say a prayer as I wrench it downwards. I'm frozen in place with relief as the wheel, creaking and groaning to life, begins its revolution to the ground. The sudden surge of air sends the cars swaying back and forth, and over their squeaking bolts I hear Tris let out a laugh, half relieved, half hysterical. I exhale. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath.