There is always a time in our lives when someone we love does something that is the equivalence of the stupidity of Zeke.
Some of us smack them in the head and tell them they're a dumbass.
Some of us publish a story dedicated to them to embarrass them.
I did both.
IN ANY CASE, THIS IS A ONE SHOT OF WHEN ZEKE MET THE FOUR.
As the best Dauntless initiate, I can easily say that everyone else is flawed and stupid. I'm the freaking best fighter in this place, hands down, and then our instuctor thinks he's got a transfer that can kick my ass. Others agreed with him.
Fools. They are everywhere.
Now, I saunter over to the arena, in which Amar had told us all to meet. He has this new idea, see, where the transfers and the naturally-born Dauntless fight each other by rank. So the initate ranked first for the Dauntless-born fights the first ranked for the transfers, and so on. Just to compare, Amar had said.
So the miserable fool I'm paired to fight is Four, the transfer with Four fears. I'm a little jittery, but of course I am. What kind of a sane bastard has four fears?
But to keep up my bravado act, you see, I tell my friends, "Soon he'll be Five. He'll be having dreams about me alright," They had laughed then, but now that I think about it, it was because they twisted the phrase around.
I'm the last one to arrive, and Amar gives me a snarky look. I smile sweetly back and flash him a fake, flirty grin. He smirks a little at my behavior. I was always his favorite initiate, though he refuses to admit it.
"As I've explained before," Starts Amar. "Me and a few of your other instructors have decided to make transfers fight Dauntless-borns by rank. That said, you'll fight from least ranked initiate that wasn't cut, to highest, meaning the most anticipated match is for last."
Oh joy. "I didn't know you anticipated me, Amar," I say again, to release my nerves.
He chooses to ignore me. "That said, Mia and Shauna, you're up."
I give my friends support when they require it, but bite my nails when no one is looking. I heard my opponent knocked out a tooth of an Erudite transfer. But for all I know, Erudite kids have loose jaws. Yeah, that's it.
Too soon, it is my turn. I'm not freaking out. My arm-pits are normally this sweaty.
That's true, actually.
I enter the arena, refusing to be nervous. I'm Dauntless for God's sake! Who the hell does this Four guy think he is? Ezekial Pedrad's got twice as many balls as this guy!
That right. That means he's got none. But wait, zero times two is still zero so...wait. I'm over thinking this.
When he enters the arena, I get my first real good look at the guy. He's switched from whatever faction color he wore a few weeks ago to black, but the way he stands, it's like he's wore the color all his life. Maybe he has, just hadn't had the chance to show it until choosing day. Dark hair and dark eyes, and a pretty lanky form. Not too muscular, whereas I'm shorter but more muscular. Like a boulder.
"What's up, twig?" I say as a starter for trash talk.
"Twig?" He says, his eyebrows pulled together. I punch him in his stomach, hard, and he grunts, not expecting it. Ha-ha, sucker!
"What, that's all you got?" I continue my mocking. This isn't so hard. He's a transfer, been doing this for a few weeks. I've been at this for sixteen years! The second I got out the womb!
Oh, that's a great mental picture. I jerk away from the illustration my mind created, and I guess Four must have seen me distracted, because he kicks me in my ribs, and I stumble back. Well shit, that hurt.
I feign hurt, and hold my right hand up over my heart. I give him my best hurt expression. "But babe, we were just getting to know each other!"
The others laugh or snort, and I give them a cheerful grin, and a well-flavoured wave. I know he'll take the bait. I just have to wait at the right...
I see his fist almost connect with my face, but I dodge it, and kick his shin. I'm about to elbow his stomach the next second, but he recovers fast, and knees me in my stomach. I groan, that being the second blow he's given me in my rib area. His foot pulls back, about to kick, but I jump up, oddly cat-like. It must have been comical, since people behind me laugh. I hear a few giggles, and I turn to blow a kiss to the group of girls whom I assume are thinking naughty things about me.
"You know, if you weren't so easily distracted, you could probably win," I hear a voice behind me say. I feel a blow to my shoulder, and not even a few seconds later, and kick...to my rib.
"What's with you and ribs, man!" I wheeze. "If you want to feel my chest, there are more tender ways to do it!"
He ignores me, which really is a pity, since I was hoping to distract him. I have to try, I think, because losing to a transfer is just miserable.
So I do something out of the ordinary. I widen my eyes and look behind him as he's about to make his final blow, and scream. "Monkeys!"
It must have been so outrageous, because he stops, arm almost about to smack my jaw, which surely would have made me unconscious. In that second of disbelief, I get up, and with energy from both my feet, kick his chest. It makes me fall on my back, but it pushes him farther back, I get up before he does, and run over to attack, but he anticipates this, because in the next second, he's already rolled over. I try to kick him, but he somehow manages to punch me in my thigh from his position. Crumbling, the last thing I see is his fist coming straight at my face.
Waking up i the infirmary is an unpleasant, but common ordeal for me. Usually, I'm alone, because Mom takes care of Uriah, and Shauna has been ignoring me lately, for some unknown reason.
That's why it's surprising when I see Four sitting in a chair next to me.
I smile at him, and being little old me, I say, "Babe, if you wanted to see me in bed, you just had to ask, no need to beat me up about it...literally."
His face twists. "I can't tell if you're naturally like this, or if it's the painkillers. Or maybe you're just always on a high."
"That," I say pointing a finger at him, "Sounds exactly like me. You've learned that fast, grasshopper. We're gonna be great friends."
"What?"
"Well, I assume someone who can beat up the great Ezekial is bound to be better as a friend than an enemy," I start, "Plus, you seem cooler than most people. And I'm currently at a loner state, so we can be loners together."
"Let me just remind you...I beat you up. You look like shit right now."
"I always look like shit, you little shit," I counter. "Besides, I assume you came here because you wanted to make sure I didn't die, which is pretty much a great quality for a blossoming friendship. Now, stand up and bend your...left elbow."
"Uh, why..."
"Just do it! This is how the Zeke friendship initiation ritual starts."
Suspiciously, he does my command. I grab on to it, and stumble out of the hospital bed. Clinging to his arm with one hand, I brush myself off with the other. There, I seem alright. Now...walking going to take me a few minutes to get used to...
"Now, take me to the pub, peasant!" I bellow dramatically. I pat his back, and lean my head on his shoulder. "First round's on you. That's for beating me up."
He sighs, but does as I say. Midway there, I get used to it, and soon he has to catch up with me. I start chanting "Beer! Beer! Beer!"
All while he grumbles. "My first friend in Dauntless, is an alcoholic who I beat up not two hours ago." He looks at me, and when he realizes I heard him, he shrugs and says, "I'll take what I can get."
A year later...
Four and I sit in the pub, me remembering the first time we ever came here, how far we've come, and our first impression of each other.
"Hey, Four."
"What?"
"You know why I called you twig before our first fight?"
"Why?"
" 'Cuz you were skinny but tall. But, you did look tough to break. Like a twig."
He scowls at me. "Yes well, my first impression of you was stupid and crazy."
I laugh. "That's still true, babe."
"You know," He says heaving a sigh. "I was hoping you'd stop that nickname after a while."
"Sorry babe, no can do. You know why your my babe? Because you come Before Any Body Else."
"I know that's meant to be sentimental and all," He says, with an amused expression, "But "anybody" is just one word."
I pat his hair like a little child. "Whatever you say, babe."
He swats it away, and says. "Your still the weirdest person I know. You and your brother both."
I give him an exaggerated frown. "Are you saying that my weirdness is getting in the way of us being best pub buds?"
"No," He says, grinning. "I'll take what I can get."
"That's what she said."
He kicks my chair so hard it rattles, making me shriek in my drunken state, and fall off of it. "Dumb-ass," I hear him mutter.
Yup. We've sure come a long way.