**We are going to have some fun with this AMAZINGLY LONG chapter! This is actually the longest chapter I've ever written for FanFiction, and I felt I owed you guys a little something extra for the long wait. I could have easily split this chapter into two, but I decided against it.
And actually, this chapter inspiration was NOT my idea. I had a reviewer PM me back in the summer of 2015, asking if I was planning on doing this already, and to my dismay, I hadn't thought of it! But now, it has been worked in! I can't say what it is now because that would give it away, but I will give credit where it's due. The reviewer who gave me the idea for this chapter was: GoldenShadow401! Thanks GoldenShadow401!
Special update on the entries for supporting characters. I have selected 2 winners, and you guys made it absolutely impossible not to use more than just 2. So, I have decided that the finalist character entries who did not win, will make a very short cameo in a later chapter (like 34 or so).
And onto our winners…. Congratulations to… *pause for dramatic effect*
4roses's Lily (dancer name = Sapphire), and Dorian Havillard's Trevor Cross (dancer name = Slade)!
Honestly, you guys made it so hard to narrow down to two characters, but I loved both of these characters and felt they would fit so well into the story! So again congratulations, and thank you all for the entries. It was so much fun to do!
Trigger warning in this chapter for tid bits of PTSD, and recalling a suicide attempt. Also, I don't have any experience with swallowing pills in a suicide attempt, and have no idea how the person would feel, so this is my version of it. It may not be statistically or anatomically correct in response, but this is fiction.
Also, if anyone feels like this chapter should be labeled M rather than T, please let me know! I personally feel it's a high T chapter, but if anyone has concerns and thinks it should be rated M, I will make quick work of a solution. Thanks and enjoy!**
TRIS POV – Friday, December 12th
Christina has been uncharacteristically silent since yesterday when she found out about my past, and failed, suicide attempt. To be perfectly honest, I had even forgotten about it myself. It was a dramatic, heat of the moment decision – my parents were just killed, the police didn't believe that I heard someone in the house, Caleb refused to talk to me… I was completely alone. I'd grabbed some pills from my parents medicine cabinet, not caring what they were and began swallowing. More and more filled my stomach, until a numb warmth spread throughout my body. It felt nice, almost inviting. I laid down in their bathtub and closed my eyelids. There was an occasional squeezing feeling in my stomach, lungs and my heart jolted once or twice. But then I could see my parents' faces. They were disappointed in me, but I didn't care because they were with me again. Sometime in the process of my hallucinating, Caleb found me and called 911. He shoved his finger down my throat, and I vomited all over the tub, and myself before finally passing out. I was in the hospital for a week for bedrest, and another week for suicide watch in the psych unit. Caleb still didn't talk to me, and left for school a couple of weeks later.
It was around that same time that Eric found me wandering around one of the old abandoned buildings that looks over the pier. There was a paintball game going on. I wished I could join them, but I couldn't get my feet to move. Eric was on his way to Dauntless at the time, and seemed nice enough. He offered me a ride, and my mind was still so numb from shock that I willingly followed. We came to Dauntless, he had me watch from the back, and offered me a job. He called me initiate which sounded like a cute pet name at first, but then I learned about who Eric really is, and it wasn't so cute anymore. I watched the other dancers – Tori, Shauna, Lynn and Lauren were part of the group at the time. And a few others whose names I can't remember. Maybe I never even learned their names. I liked the power and control that came with being a dancer, so without a second thought I accepted. Eric took me to get my first fitting the next day, Tori was sent to show me around and get a tattoo that night, then Eric took my picture to hang on the wall with the others, and Raven was born.
Because it's Friday of finals week, campus is nearly deserted. Many people have already gone home for winter break. There's even a Santa Clause running up and down the main courtyard outside of one of the three Starbucks on campus. I remember this guy from last year, except last year he was throwing candy-canes at people like they were knives. He got cited by campus police for hitting someone in the face.
I'm grateful not to have to see Thompson anymore. Though in a way, not seeing him unnerves me because now I don't know what he's up to.
There's some carolers on the Stairs That Lead to Nothing sculpture in the middle of the PM Lawn (ever so cleverly named, because the surrounding buildings keep the sun off of it during all four seasons until the afternoon). A snowball fight seems to have also broken out on the other side of the lawn. The fight is composed entirely of guys, and all of them are wearing swim shorts with shoes and nothing else. Many people are standing around videotaping them or cheering them on. If I were a normal person, I would stand and enjoy the sight of half-naked men freezing their butts off, and maybe even take a picture hoping to gain some short lived internet fame. Unfortunately, I'm not normal.
Amar's class is one of the only rooms in the building with its lights on. About half the class is already sitting down waiting for the final to start. For many, if not all, it's our last final before the break.
A rock drops in my stomach as I take my seat. Four will be here. He's the TA, he has to be here. Do I want him here? I want to see his reaction, I want to explain myself like I had previously planned. Could I take the rejection if he were to dish it out? Maybe Zeke could talk to him. No, I have to do this myself.
Christina walks in soon after I do, and the rest of the class follows. Christina is still pissed about having a final on Friday, but made her peace with it by dressing up in one of her nicer school outfits. It's a purple scoop neck dress with a built in black skirt. I rolled my eyes when I saw her this morning as she was putting on extra lip gloss, which seems to have worn off now. I'm still not sure how she can stand to wear it in twenty degree weather with half a foot of snow on the ground.
Amar walks in with one minute to spare. He looks flustered, or maybe frustrated; either way, his dark completion is slightly reddened and his jaw is clenched. He doesn't even say "good afternoon" like usual.
He explains the final to us: we'll have two hours to answer four comprehension questions out of six possible. Each answer must be a certain length and reference to at least two quotes from our text, which we can use to help us answer the questions.
"Unfortunately your TA will not be joining us today, he has," Amar grits his teeth. "Fallen ill."
There's a collective moan from some of the girls in class, who like Christina, have dressed up a bit fancier today. Christina glances over at me from her seat, a relieved look on her face. I give her a nod, and feel a small weight lift off of me. It's probably better that I don't see him, especially right before a test worth 40% of my final grade.
I get lost in the test then, answering questions quickly and efficiently with appropriate quotes, examples and symbolic descriptions. English class has always been my safe zone, because I never really needed to stress over it. I finish my test after the 80 minute mark, and am the third one to finish. Christina looks frustrated at her paper, but glances at me on my way out of the classroom. I give her a nod, and decide to wait for her in the hallway by the floor to ceiling windows. There's a couple lounge chairs there that have always been full when I walk by. Now they're empty.
The cushion is soft, and I pull my feet in underneath me as I face the world from four stories up. The snow has begun to fall again, in soft small flakes. The entire world looks to be comprised of three colors from up here: black, white and gray. Even the buildings with reflective windows don't hold color. The trees sway slightly in the distance, and everything has this calming sensation. As an English major, I can't help but smirk at the poetic nature of it all. Maybe this is why winter is my favorite season.
The sound of falling books startles me out of my trance and I turn to look behind me. Instantly I'm on my feet in a slightly defensive stance, wide eyed, and breathing hard. In that split second my heart jolted as though electricity were flowing through me, and it hurt.
"Four."
He looks older than I've ever seen him. Pale in the face, shoulders stiff, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days.
I take a step towards him and he takes a step back. This feels so much like the push-pull dance we already played out at Dauntless Tuesday night. I don't want to do this. I can feel bile rising up my throat, and I try to relax my tensed muscles.
"You don't trust me," I say not looking away from him. He averts his eyes, as though it's painful to look at me. I know that feeling all too well from Caleb. My voice is uncharacteristically low. "That's okay I guess, I didn't tell you the whole truth." My eyes narrow, and he still looks away from me. "If you want to grow a pair and talk, you know where to find me, day or night." I growl at him and grab my bag to move towards the stairs.
He opens his mouth slightly but still says nothing. Giving me a wide birth when I reach the stairs. It feels like being stabbed in the chest with an ice prick. My breath catches in my throat as the cinnamon invades my senses, and I feel my eyes water.
I'm rushing out of the building then, out onto the slick pavement which has been recently lined with rock salt by the campus facilities. Christina will understand why I didn't wait for her when he walks into the classroom. No doubt that's where he was headed.
The bag on my shoulder feels like it weighs a ton, and my head is spinning. So much so, that I bump into someone, nearly knocking them into a poorly made snowman. The woman yells at me to watch where I'm going. I nod and keep going.
"Tris."
My head flies up, my cheeks wet. She's actually the last person I expected right now.
Cara stands before me, tightly wrapped in a blue sweater, with her neat blonde hair falling gracefully around her head. She opens her mouth as though to ask a question, but stops herself. Instead, she digs into her own bag and pulls out a small piece of paper. Then, casually, and clearly not as subtly as she had hoped, bumps into me and slips the paper into my hand.
"Cara?" My voice cracks. She gives me a sympathetic look but then keeps walking.
I look down at the note, quickly getting covered in small snowflakes. On the top in neat handwriting, it tells me not to open the note until I'm off campus, but before I get to The Pit.
When Christina finds me slowly making my way to The Pit, I'm surprised that she doesn't say anything. She has a grim expression on her face, and glances over at me every now and then. Christina is always verbal, but this is something new. It's still communicating, something Christina does best, but in a way I don't have to talk; Christina sighs and links her arm through one of mine, pulling me closer to her tall frame. More tears threaten to fall, and Christina's grip tightens.
Now is about the time when Christina would say that I could use a good distraction. The only problem is that normally whenever she brought this up, it was always a distraction of the human male. And when I refused to be set up, we'd settle for watching Magic Mike and criticizing their moves.
The note.
I stop walking as soon as The Pit is in sight. Christina looks confused, and I nod for her to keep walking. "I'll be right there." I tell her pulling the note from my pocket. She looks skeptical, but doesn't argue.
I really don't know what to expect on the note. At first I worry that it's a message from Caleb, through Cara, but I don't even know if they've been communicating, or if she even knows the relationship between Caleb and me. Then again, what if it's a message about Erudite, transferring, or even the plan to leave? Did Cara find out? And if she found out, who else knows?
But it isn't any of those things.
Be careful Tris. You're under surveillance.
I stare at Cara's perfect handwriting, and feel two conflicting emotions: fear, and acceptance. I've been under surveillance since I first joined Dauntless, and I should have expected a higher surveillance after my trip to Max's office. But the fear rolling through my veins isn't fear for myself, it's for everyone around me. What if they get punished for things I've done? Christina, Shauna, and all the others. What was Cara risking getting this note to me? Would she get in trouble? What if they connect me back to Susan, she's strong but not invincible. I could care less if they trace me to Caleb. What about Four? What could happen to him? Half of me wants to shield him, and half of me says to hell with it. He clearly doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, so why should I?
Because it's the right thing to do, because you care for him.
My feet trip on their own, the voice in my head sounding so much like my mother's. A renewed ache for her spread through my chest, and my throat tightened.
Everything is so pale now, so numb, and so empty. I've never felt this kind of weight on my shoulder, like gravity had tripled. As long as I could do my job today, get through it and make it home in one piece, I would be okay. Then I just need to repeat the next day, and the next day, until I can't get out of bed anymore.
This is my life. Lucky me.
At least I don't have to dance tonight. It's Male Dancer Night at Dauntless tonight, so worst case scenario is I get called in to supervise. And it wouldn't be so bad, now that I know two of the dancers.
"Tris!"
I pick my head up, and see Matthew looking at me from the back door of The Pit.
"What is it?" I ask forcing my voice to sound like I haven't spent the majority of the day crying.
"You'd better get in here."
My pace speeds up just a bit. I'm surprised at how wet I am from the melted snow until I get into the backroom. The heat is on, and my skin rubs against my clothing painfully.
"How long were you out there?" He asks helping me take my wet coat off.
"I don't know. Why?"
"Your lips are blue."
"Oh."
Christina comes around the corner quickly then. "There you are, come on you're late."
"Late for what?"
"Our meeting."
I'm about to ask Christina what meeting she's talking about, until we walk out onto the floor, and Peter stands there. Peter has only ever been in here twice that I can remember. He doesn't like it and complains of it smelling like grease. Last time he was here he caught me giving some extra food to a homeless man out back. I was barely 18 at the time and didn't receive any tips for a week.
"Now that everyone is here," he pulls out his clipboard. "I have an announcement. As you all know tonight is normally our Male Dancer Night at Dauntless, but we are doing something different."
Shauna looks nervous. Lynn groans. Myra pales. Marlene picks at her fingers. Christina's grip on my arm tightens again, and I release a large sigh.
"Tonight, for the first time in Dauntless history, we will be having a collaboration night. Oh and don't worry about our guests, they've known about this for a while. Only our most loyal customers were told about this event, and it's invite only."
"Collaboration?" Marlene asks, almost glaring at Peter. She's only known him for a few weeks and already hates him, it almost makes me smile.
"Yes. Tonight, only half of our male dancers will be participating, and the other half, will be female dancers. Three of you, and two from your counter group."
"Do we get a say in this at all?" Lynn asks frowning.
"We never do." Christina mumbles.
"Right then, the lucky three. Raven." Gravity is back and it is not kind. "Candy, and Luscious."
Shauna lets out a sigh of relief and then looks from Lynn to Peter. "Why do you never use our real names? Especially here or anywhere outside of Dauntless."
"It makes him feel powerful." Marlene snickers.
Christina laughs under her breath as Marlene and Peter have a stare down. There's tension between the two of them, and it's almost frightening how much Marlene challenges him. It's no doubt just by looking at Peter that he is physically strong and able to handle himself. But just looking at how all of us girls are wrapped in a semi-circle around him, makes me feel elated – we really could all take him down if we worked together.
"When do we leave?" I ask before a fight can break out.
"Now. Eric wants you to get acquainted with your fellow dancers tonight."
"Fine." I keep my voice as even as I can, and Lynn, Christina and I turn to walk towards the parking lot. Peter leaves in an unmarked black car before we reach Christina's car. We are escorted by some more black coats in their own cars. Lynn hops in the back with me in the passenger seat and we pull out of the lot.
"Why would he want me to come in?" Lynn asks annoyed. "You two are more popular and consistently bringing in more money than me. Even Shauna makes more than I do."
"Have you seen your tips lately?" Christina asks shell-shocked. "You've been beating all of us for the last couple nights. Maybe your popularity has just risen."
"Or maybe Eric thinks you're special." I snort. Christina laughs a careful laugh, and Lynn glares daggers in the back of my head. She knows it's a joke, but it really isn't a joke when Eric takes a "special" interest in you. That could mean transfer, special favors, or else.
The parking lot at Dauntless is nearly empty. Uriah's black truck is here, and that makes me feel a bit better. I don't recognize any of the others. I don't even know if Eric has a car. I've never seen him drive except when he drove me to Max's office.
"Do you guys know any of the other female dancers or male dancers?" Christina asks.
"Yes." I say as Lynn says "No." They both look at me strangely. Honestly, I can't believe Christina didn't recognize Uriah from the double date that wasn't a double date with her and Will. Christina has supervised a male dancer night at Dauntless before, so maybe she just wasn't paying too much attention. I hope Will's not here tonight.
"Who?" They both ask.
"You'll recognize him. I think." I say getting out of the car. The snow has stopped falling now, but the whole ground, even the roads are covered in a slushy gray-white mixture. The yellow streetlights almost making it look like dirt.
"Let's go meet our new friends." Christina says sarcastically.
Lynn walks through the back entrance first. "Hey Lauren."
"It's Glo here Luscious. Do well to remember that." Glo growls in the back of her throat. Christina goes in next, and I mumble a small apology to Glo as I walk in last. She just nods at me, and shuts the door behind me, sealing in the warmth of the back room.
There's only a few people here, and none that I recognize. Uriah must be getting changed.
Peter comes up behind us scribbling on his clipboard, and tells us to do the same - that our outfits will be labeled for tonight, and that they'll be corresponding to a male counterpart by color. Lynn rolls her eyes and groans. Peter glares at her before a crash and some laughter over by the male dancers catches his attention.
"What I wouldn't give to smack the little weasel with his clipboard into next year." Christina mumbles as we make our way to the dressing room.
"Smack him? How about burry him?" Lynn suggests smiling. Lynn's mind has always been particularly dark, but tonight, Christina and I smile at her comment.
In the dressing room, there's only one other girl. She has long wavy dark brown hair that looks polished and fresh out of the salon. Currently she's clipping blue and blonde highlights into her hair, then pins it up in a long full ponytail. It's much more elegant than my wig's ponytail. Hers is posh, where mine is messy. She's tall like Christina, curvy too. Her skin tone, though hard to make an accurate observation in the dim back room lighting, looks darker than olive, but not chestnut like Christina's. She pulls on a black crop top with ¾ sleeves, that dips down too low to be worn alone. And then she pulls on the one clothing item we all fear wearing: black leather underwear. In all fairness, it could easily be a swimsuit bottom, but it's so skimpy and easy for customers to get their hands "accidentally stuck in". Not to mention it rides up in an extremely uncomfortable manner. She finishes off with black ankle boots, perfect for stomping. Her color accent is a striking blue, worn as a visible bra under her black crop top, and the buckles on her black ankle boots which would normally be silver, don the blue as well.
"Can I help you?" Her voice startles me. Her eyes are the same striking blue, clashing against her darker skin in a haunting fashion.
It's only then I realize she isn't talking to me. Lynn was staring at her too, her mouth hanging open a bit.
Suddenly the girl's face changes, and I recognize a practiced mask. "You'll catch more bugs than tips if you keep that up." She then saunters by us, appealing to Lynn's expression and leaves the dressing room with a flick of her hips. I'm sure I'm not the only one to notice the small anchor tattoo on the side of her ass.
Christina claps Lynn on the back. "You were always one to make a great first impression," giggling under her breath.
I turn back to look at the outfits Peter has provided us with, and give a silent prayer of thanks that none of us have to wear the black leather underwear too.
Our outfits are all different. There are some times when I swear that Peter would make an excellent fashion director, but I know he'd deck me if I told him that. The thought makes me giggle. It feels good to laugh, but then I remember all the shit going on in my life and my expression turns solemn again.
Christina's is a skin tight black leather dress, halter top, with a large zipper down the front that only unzips to her cleavage. Her shoes are simple and black with a small heel, and three small orange bows on each outer side of her fishnet stockings. She scowls at them.
Lynn is in the typical black strapless bra with long black leather pants, leading into simple black pumps. Her color accent is green, in the form of suspenders. The outfit oddly suits her tomboy personality, but also brings out her more feminine figure. One I know she would rather hide in a sweatshirt.
My outfit is a sleeveless black romper, with a sweetheart neckline, and tight corset shaping on the front. The fabric in the back of the romper folds over in two weaves giving it a loose braid effect, and a whole at my lower back to show off my Dauntless tattoo. To my relief, Peter has left out my favorite knee-high black leather boots for me to wear. My color is red, in the form of a choker necklace, and red and black fingerless fishnet gloves that come up to my elbow.
Another girl walks in just as I finish situating my wig in place. She's much smaller than any other dancer I've seen. She has short, cropped blonde hair, and brown eyes. She wears a black dress made of thin material. A yellow rope like belt around her middle.
"Hey," Christina says in a way that is less of a casual greeting, and more of a: who are you? The girl stops, almost frightened when she sees us.
"You're the Group A dancers, aren't you?" Her eyes suddenly narrow, almost in an accusing fashion. I wonder how we've offended her.
Christina nods. "What's your name?"
She stands a little taller, and raises her chin. "Athena." She can't be more than five feet tall. Her shoes are a barely there black wedge.
Lynn snorts. "Eric named you after a Greek God?"
Athena glares at Lynn. "At least I'm not named after an animal."
I raise my hand. "That would actually be me."
Christina has her mouth shut tight and her cheeks are turning red to keep from laughing. Athena looks absolutely horrified at her mistake. Lynn is smirking almost sinisterly at her. The feeling of laughter fills my chest, but is quickly squashed when I register just how young Athena really is. She wears heavy makeup, but she can't be more than sixteen. She's still a child.
I leave the dressing room then, and notice my expression in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors at the dressing room entrance. My typical resting bitch face in place, matched with my get up, I can see why Athena would be startled at making fun of my name. I look scary, and I can't decide if I like it or not. Faintly, I can hear Athena panicking to Christina and Lynn that she may have offended me, but I can also hear Christina tell her not to worry about it.
Al walks by without a look in my direction suddenly, probably hurrying to the sound station. But he looks panicked, and sweaty.
Uriah is sitting at my station when I reach back stage. There's more people here now. And what really throws me off, is there's more people with clipboards, more Peters. All of them scurrying around, talking to different dancers, males and females. Peter and one other are the only ones wearing black. A smaller one wears blue, another gray, one dark red, and one surprisingly wears a dark purple shirt. The colors of the factions, the other clubs. And the purple is the color of The Gutter. A shiver runs down my spine remembering Eric's words, some of us are likely to be transferred soon. Why else would they all be here if not to just evaluate us? Because we've never had an "evaluation" by someone from a different club before. They're here to scout us. Cara's note floats in my head. Under surveillance.
"Hey Raven, everything okay?" Uriah stands as I near him.
My dancer name doesn't sound as foreign or as harsh on his lips as it does on so many others. It's nice to have someone outside my group of girls to know who I am and actually treat me like an individual in person and in their tone of voice. I've expected for so long, that when people would find out about me they would have two different reactions: try to use me, and completely shun me. So far, both predictions have come true. People like Professor Thompson, who thought I was his for the taking. And people like Four, who find out about what I do, immediately assume the worst and shut me out. I hadn't realized what a fear of mine it was until I watched him walk away Tuesday night.
My own voice is low as I speak, still feeling the effects of the cold spike. "Feeling a little overwhelmed actually. Nothing I can't handle."
He frowns. "Wouldn't have anything to do with our brooding-buddy now would it?"
I feel my lips curl into a small smirk. "If by brooding-buddy you mean Four, then yes, it does. But not all of it." I look down at my hands, picking at my fingernails. "I'm having some familial, difficulties."
Uriah nods his head, then pauses. "Family? I thought you- I thought you were alone."
His words sting more than they should. "I was, and still am in some ways. My brother was living in New York for the last four years. He returned five days ago. I had just met with him when you picked me up in your truck this last weekend."
"Ahhh, yeah you didn't seem too happy. So, an older brother. Is he Zeke's age? Older?"
"No, he's actually only ten months older than me. We were in the same grade because of it, a lot of people thought we were twins."
"Well I'll keep my eye open for a blonde haired blue eyed jerk-wad."
I can't help the laugh that spills out of my mouth at Uriah's statement, matched with a perfectly straight face. "We actually don't look anything alike, except for maybe our noses. He has brown hair and green eyes. Zeke could point him out to you. My brother, Caleb, was at The Pit yesterday and sat right next to Zeke for a half hour."
"Oh. Yeah. Hmm." Uriah fidgets in his stance.
My eyes narrow. "What?"
"I know who you're talking about, Zeke assumed, with Shauna's suggestion as well, that he was either a client of yours or a past boyfriend," he says looking rather guilty.
A pit drops in my stomach for the thousandth time today. "Did he tell Four?"
"I don't know."
"We're on in five minutes!" Peter's voice breaks the trance. For a moment talking to Uriah, I forgot where we were, what we were about to do, and what we were dressed as. My knees feel cold, and my chest feels numb. I need Raven to take over. "All partnered pairs to the stage!"
I look at Uriah's outfit. He wears black cargo pants with black suspenders, a vibrant blue bowtie, and the zipper on his pants is blue as well. I'm instantly reminded of the girl in the dressing room. "Who's your partner?" I ask.
"A girl from the B Dauntless group. I think her dancer name is Sapphire."
It's just then that I spot Sapphire across the room with her bright blue eyes trained on us. She's walking over towards Uriah with a stern look on her face.
"That would make sense. Have fun." I pat his shoulder. "Who am I with?"
He looks me over. "Your color is red, so you are partnered with…" he pauses looking over the crowd of dancers and mini Peters running around. "Ah, you're with Slade." He points to someone in the very back. I can't see too much of him from here, but I do see his blonde hair gelled out of his eyes. He's one of the tallest people in the room.
"He looks charming."
Uriah smiles at my sarcasm. "He doesn't dance with us too much, usually just showing up for our appearances at Erudite. I'm surprised to see him here though. I can't remember the last time he danced at Dauntless."
"He gets to choose when he dances?"
"Personally, I think his dad has something to do with it." Uriah's voice is much lower now. "But I don't think he knows."
"Whose his dad?"
"Some bigwig I think. Definitely a millionaire."
"So he's paying off Max?"
"That would be my guess."
"So I'm with a spoiled rich boy who ran away."
"Hey," his voice softens. "Try not to go too hard on him. He's had a rough life."
"Who hasn't?" I mumble, instantly thinking of my parents, Shauna and Lynn trying to put Hector through school, Christina and her uncle. A sweat breaks out on my brow. "Uriah, is Will here tonight?"
Uriah frowns and shakes his head. Relief floods me. "Why?"
"Christina is here."
His mouth forms an O in realization. Which also confirms my theory, she still doesn't know he's a dancer. I'm actually impressed for a brief moment at how long Will's been able to keep this secret from Christina. Maybe she's not as good of a lie detector as she claims. Not that I would dare tell her that.
Sapphire has reached us now, giving me a quick glare before turning to face Uriah, putting her full body between the two of us. "Looks like I'm your partner, Snake." She eyes him up and down. "Were you named as such for your body? Or, a specific part of your body?" Her face and body language shout confidence, but her voice is less so. She's trying too hard. No wonder she's in the Group B of Dauntless dancers. If she had confidence in her voice as well, she could have easily been with us. Maybe she still will be, since Myra has shown to be less than impressive, contrary to Eric's hopes for her.
Uriah smirks playfully at her, his own mask in place. "Guess you'll never know." Sapphire smirks and her tongue pokes out between her teeth.
I take my leave then, nodding off to Uriah.
Christina has lined up on the far left of the stage with her partner, a burly looking guy with shaggy brown hair. Lynn has been paired with a guy who has carrot orange hair, and she looks absolutely disgusted with him already. His hair practically glows under the back stage lighting. I look down at his uniform and see his unbuttoned green polo. Really though, picking green as an accent color for someone with orange hair was probably not the best move, some might think its St. Patrick's day at Dauntless. Athena has been paired up with a pale young man with shucks of black hair.
Slade stands off to the far right, he doesn't look at me as I step up to him. If he looked tall across the room, he looks even taller now. Probably enough to fit two Athena's on top of each other. And dare I say, he's taller than Four.
Slade doesn't acknowledge me as I step next to him, and his face remains firmly in a scowl. He has a small bump on his nose that doesn't look natural, and his ears have small dents in them, like they used to be pierced but closed. There's a small scar on his cheek, and an even bigger one running from his shoulder, across his collar bone and ending near his sternum. He wears black cargo pants like Uriah, with a red zipper instead of blue. He also has on a black construction looking vest with red accents.
Peter comes up to us. "Slade, Raven, you two will be Lust tonight. Your main event is at midnight."
"Lust?" The word jostles out of my mouth, tasting foreign and sour. Slade just nods, still not looking over at me.
Peter continues. "That means you'll be doing the," he smirks, "intimate relations, dance tonight. Also, you two have a private dance booked together at 2a.m."
The music changes from the warm up tune to get everyone in the crowd ready, to a steadier beat with drums, a violin, and a cello. The opening act.
All of the girls line up in front of the boys, and the curtain rises just to our hips. We all slink under the curtain and perform some kind of dynamic pose, slowly moving. I go for the traditional, hands in the hair, hips swaying to the slower beat, jolting every now and then at the drum. We move forward, and the crowd – a healthy mix of men and women – watches us with anticipation. Once at the edge of the stage, the drums pick up slightly, and the music gets a bit louder. The crowd makes a little more noise, and without looking back, I know the men have joined us. In a few moments more, I feel a pair of large hands on my waist, my hand instantly goes up to caress Slade's face. We're supposed to be lust right? My head turns in towards his chest and his head dips down till our foreheads are touching. I almost wonder how much strain he's putting on his neck to reach my head, but then I remember that I'm also wearing four inch heels. The act continues on, and slowly, each couple gets their time at center stage for a brief moment, giving the audience a taste of each individual act that's to come later in the night. Until eventually, we all break off into the crowd to being our work. Christina and the man with brown hair are up first. They seem to be a young couple in a violent love story with the way they dance. Their music is light, loud, with a lot of push and pull movements.
I see a few familiar faces in the crowds as I go around giving lap dances, putting my hands on men's thighs, even appealing to some girls who want my attention. Raven gives it to them with delight, while I hide away in my head.
There's a small commotion halfway through the second individual dance of Athena and the other man I don't know. Over in one of the booths on the opposite side of the room. A girl is pushing Lynn's partner, the carrot head, away from her, an angry expression on her face. She's part of a bachelorette party, and the bride is crying.
Uriah was talking with an older woman who looks to be a regular client of his, and they both stop to look over as well.
Eric comes out from the back then, and escorts the carrot head away, giving what looks like a charming heartfelt apology to the women. Then calling one of the bar tenders over to their table. Free drinks most likely. Because of course the best solution for everything is free alcohol.
"What was that about?" A man next to me asks, now standing closer to me than I'd like.
"Don't worry about that. Let me make you feel good instead." Raven purrs into his neck, and the man happily accepts. Raven walks away ten minutes later with another sixty dollars in her boots.
Midnight comes around faster than I'd like. And soon, Slade and I are up on the stage, and a nervous tremor runs through me. The crowd has quieted, and it feels like the eyes fixed on me are preying on me.
The lights above suddenly dim and turn red. There's low music, and bass that beats slower than a heartbeat. I've never performed this routine, but I've seen it done before. I've never danced with a man this way, but I've seen it done before. The routine starts slow, with a push and pull setting much like Christina's dance. Slade pulls me close, then I push away. I reach for him, and he spins out of reach. When I get away from him again, he grabs me hard and small gasp escapes my lips. His fingers tense for a brief moment, then relax again. His hands are large and warm. They slide across my neck, down my arms, along my waist, the open skin of my back, up my legs, across my butt, everywhere. One of his hands even slides down the center of my chest while my back is glued to his front. I take notice that his hand is careful not to touch either of my breasts. I take a heavy gasp for the audience and the music speeds up just slightly. Our limbs tangle as we move together. Even Four and I haven't been this tangled, nor moved like this before. Soon, he dips me down in front of him, with my butt firmly pressed up against his crotch. Money begins to land in front of us. Slade moves me slowly against him, before yanking me back up once more, and turning me to face him in one motion, my legs wrap around his waist. I feel sick suddenly at how sudden of a reaction, and how natural of a reaction it was. I catch a small glimpse at his inner bicep, and there's a faint discoloring against his skin. It's also smeared with cover-up. A tattoo? Even more confusing, is why would he have a covered-up tattoo? Eric likes us to show our tattoos. But I don't get to ask. The dance ends with the stage covered in green money, and as a final act, Slade carries me like his lover, off stage behind the curtain, into the blackness of backstage.
He sets me down gently. "I'm sorry I hurt you." His voice startles me, and is much deeper than I anticipated.
"It's fine." I say once I find my voice once more. "I just don't think I was expecting it. I've never done that dance before."
"Me neither." He still doesn't smile, and he still doesn't really look at me. "You're much lighter than I thought. I wouldn't have pulled so hard if I'd known."
The thought of Four pulling me to his chest rather harshly because he didn't know how light I was either flashes to the front of my memory. And the pit in my stomach returns, and I'm out of breath once more.
I look back over at Slade, and realize, that through the permanent looking scowl on his face, he looks sad. His chocolate colored eyes don't shine, and they don't look hopeful. There's a twitch my chest and I find I want to help him. I don't like seeing people sad. But I'd probably have to be his friend to know what was bothering him, and even then there's no telling if he would admit what it is that's making him this way. I never was good at making friends. Maybe if I just get him to start talking. Maybe if I do what Four did to me at the Chasm . . .
"What's your favorite color?" I ask sitting down at the station next to where he stands. We don't have to be out on the floor for another five minutes.
This time he looks at me, and cocks one eyebrow. "What?"
"What's your favorite color?"
Slade studies me, at least he's showing a different expression than he's been showing all night. He takes another moment to himself before he speaks. "Why?" His arms tense, as though shielding himself, or preparing to shield himself. His left arm, the one with the covered-up tattoo – at least I'm pretty sure it's a covered-up tattoo – is held closest to his body. Whatever he's hiding has to be important.
I release a long sigh. "I'm trying to get to know you."
He stiffens. "Not interested."
"You don't make friends very easily do you?"
His scowl returns.
Peter decides it's the perfect time to walk by then and offers us shots before going back out. Straight vodka. I take mine quickly and feel the warmth spread down my neck and into my chest. Though it's not as comforting as it was when I was sixteen.
Peter offers Slade his shot, a smirk on his face. Slade is glowering, his eyes piercing a hole into Peter's skull before he stalks off.
"Slade?" I ask standing, about to walk after him.
"Don't bother. He's totally messed up." Peter is grinning. "Dude doesn't drink alcohol, and gets angry just looking at it. Doesn't make friends. Doesn't talk unless ordered to, and absolutely refuses to dance for any girl with dark red hair."
"That's pretty specific. Eric's okay with that?"
"What I'm okay with and what I'm not okay with, you should already know Raven." Eric's voice startles both Peter and me as he walks out towards us from his office, passing us. "Don't go dipping into matters that don't concern you." He's scowling, picks up the third shot, Slade's shot, and downs it before throwing the glass against the wall. It shatters and falls like rain. The sound hits me hard and I grit my teeth. "Clean it up Peter." He says before going back to his office.
I glance over at Peter and find even he looks a little confused by Eric's behavior. But the moment doesn't last too long because soon he pushes me out to the floor like I'm nothing.
Uriah is near the entrance to backstage when I stumble out. He even catches me from falling over, and gives me a small smile. "Looks like you just fell for me."
I push him off, trying not to smile in reply. "Let go Snake."
"Oh you two look so good together!" A woman's voice catches me off guard. I glance at the booth behind us. There sits a group of women in their mid to late thirties, dressed like high schoolers, who were clearly just getting attention from Uriah. "Would you dance together for us?"
"Oh yes would you please!?" Another pulls out her camera.
Uriah steps forward. "I'm afraid you can't take photos or videos in here. Dauntless policy."
"Please Snake?"
"Sorry Mary. Gotta be a good boy, sometimes." He gives her a wink, and she practically faints. Then he turns to me. "What do you say Raven?"
Raven smiles at Snake as seductive as she can muster with all the emotional shit flying through my head. Raven walks over to the nearby pole and begins to circle it, inviting Snake closer. He complies. And together, Raven and Snake fit together extremely well. Molding to the pole and each other. Raven feels a twinge of pain as Snake lifts her up and pins her spine against the pole, but she doesn't show it.
The women hand Uriah and I each fifty dollars after seven minutes. He then walks me over to the bar, in the process of getting the women more drinks.
"You okay?" He asks quietly.
"That's the second time you've asked me that in two and a half hours."
He coughs. "Yeah, I just thought I'd ask, again."
I turn to face him when we reach the bar. Our drink-master-extraordinaire hands us each a shot. I take mine without hesitation, and find I don't feel bad for not even knowing the bartender's name.
Uriah pauses with his shot in his hand, and he looks around the room three times before downing it.
"Do you have a stalker?" I ask bluntly.
He looks confused at this. "A what?"
"It's okay if you do, a lot of the girls have had stalkers before. It's like every time I see you know you're looking over your shoulder."
"No, I'm just, observing."
"Bullshit."
His hand flies to his mouth in mock shock. "Raven swearing! Oh the humanity!"
"Snake." His name is more of a hiss on my lips.
My eyes narrow as his face turns more serious. "You're kind of oblivious you know."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I feel close to stomping my foot. He looks over his shoulder one last time. I follow his gaze, but only see a crowd of people against the back wall enjoying themselves. "Who are you looking for?"
Now he takes his shot.
"Have a good night Raven." He says handing the glass back to the bartender, and walks into the crowd, not giving me a look back.
I don't see Slade again until our private dance at 2a.m. It's just dancing for a party of people, all looking like their having a good time. I'd guess they were college burnouts who wanted to go out to see dancers rather than order a stripper at home. Our dance is similar to our stage dance, red lighting and low music. Slade feels entirely tense against me, different from our dance on stage. It's frustrating to dance against a stiff board. I start to push him harder. It catches him off guard and he pushes me harder in return. Our dance is a fight. Two frustrated people whose lives are in shambles, dancing for other people's pleasure just to survive.
We exit the private dance just to see the last of Uriah and Sapphire's individual dance on stage. Their theme is electricity I think, lots of jumping, stomping, and the music is near techno. Blue, purple, and red lighting flashes around them with the occasional strobe lighting. I think their dance should come with an epilepsy warning. Sapphire is hanging off of Uriah like he's a lifeline, and at one point even latches herself onto his chest with her legs around his waist, then bends backwards to hang off of him like an acrobat. Her smile is sultry and intense. She moves like a dancer, graceful and with purpose. Putting emotion and power into every step, every flinch, and every toe point. It's magnetic and I find myself slightly envious of her.
Christina is hanging off of the lap of some business man, who clearly has had too much to drink. He fumbles with the money in his hands and giggles like a child as he nears her chest.
The night comes to a gradual close, and everyone in the audience seems satisfied. There was such a variety tonight, it's almost impossible for them not to have been. I don't stick around this time to see if the woman from Tuesday night is here or not. She probably only liked my dancing and moved on. I don't why else she would have stared at me the way she did.
Uriah seems disappointed backstage, and when Sapphire asks him what was up, he pouts and says his brother wasn't here tonight to see him kill it on stage. Sapphire smiles and Uriah smiles. She looks more comfortable around him, relaxed, and less fierce than before, even though she's still in her get-up. It makes me wonder if they've met before. I wouldn't be surprised.
At first it seems the guys don't know whether to do into the dressing room with us girls or wait for us to finish. All the girls except Athena usher them in. It doesn't matter to us that much. We're all in this business, and honestly I don't have much of an issue if they see something I would normally blush at sharing. I change quickly in the corner, back into my day clothes and shake my hair out after taking my wig off. Taking off the layers of makeup is a whole separate challenge seeing as so much of it is sweat proof, water proof, and practically nuclear explosion proof.
"Come back here!"
"No!"
Christina looks over at me as she finishes pulling her shirt over her head. Everyone else in the dressing room has stopped as well.
I walk out followed by a few others. Lynn is standing behind her partner glaring at him. Peter is chasing said partner – the carrot head – fuming.
"You know the rules Rocky."
Hmm. He doesn't look like a Rocky. He's actually rather lean.
"I didn't do anything wrong!"
"I can't cover for you anymore." Peter's voice is low, but not that low. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Peter actually cares for this guy. "Eric already knows."
The carrot head, Rocky pales slightly.
At the mention of his name, Eric enters, powerful strides and a stern look upon his face. All the other dancers have gathered around now. Lynn still stands near him, looking absolutely pissed. She looks over at us, specifically me and Christina, then waves us off.
"I've had enough of your shit." Eric says moving closer to Rocky. "This is the third strike. I'd only keep you if you brought in enough money, but you barely make quota now. You're done."
Christina bumps my shoulder, and I follow her line of sight. In Eric's hand is a black picture frame and a purple ribbon. The Gutter.
"Peter." Eric says sternly. Peter in return, hands him a compact hammer. Eric sets the picture frame on the table, and nails the purple ribbon onto the frame. It's done.
Rocky is a mess, eyes glistening and his lip trembling. "Please don't. Don't do this to me! Peter help me!"
Peter remains silent. It's one of the first times I've seen him look solemn.
"Rocky, your time here is done. Tomorrow you are to report to The Gutter. Glo, Bane, please see him out." Glo and a burly looking guy named Bane grab Rocky by each arm and haul him to the back.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you." Eric's voice boomed. "Bring in the money, keep the customer happy, but keep your hands to yourself. If you're strong enough to follow these rules, you belong in Dauntless. If not, we'll waste no more time on you. You chose to work here, now we get to choose you."
Everyone gets the message, we're dismissed for now. Lynn walks over to us.
"What happened?" Christina asks.
"He was getting really handsy with a client. I had to follow him all night to make sure his hand didn't accidentally find its way up some girl's skirt. As it turns out, the girl he was feeling up was invited by him to come tonight, and she's seventeen. She didn't like what he was doing, told him to stop, and he didn't."
Images of Professor Thompson enter my mind, and my knees feel weak and my stomach sick.
"Apparently it's happened before." Lynn continues. "And get this. He's Peter's cousin."
Christina and Lynn continue to talk about this revelation while I head to the back door, needing some fresh air while Thompson still floats around in my mind. The scene I stumble upon outside surprises me, and yet, I should have seen it coming.
Marlene stands there in her normal clothing, shivering, and close to tears. Uriah stands in front of her, pure shock on his face. Even though it seems he guessed it to be true. She's talking with him quietly, no doubt about our plans to leave.
I walk by them, shooting Uriah a look. Listen to her.
He nods and some of the shock disappears from his face, but he still looks pained.
The snow has started to fall harder again. Covering the gray and mucky snow already in the parking lot with a pure white color, bathed in blue neon lights that wrap around the entirety of the outside of Dauntless. It begins to soak through the soles of my shoes, numbing my toes.
"Come on Tris let's get going." Christina comes running out the door to her car. I get in shortly after. Lynn isn't with us. She and Shauna live nearby so she must have walked. "Overall, pretty eventful night. And hey, finals are over! That means we get to sleep in tomorrow. You know I was thinking about doing a full day of cooking tomorrow, maybe we can-"
Christina continues to ramble on and I shut my eyes as she pulls out of the lot. I don't intentionally block her out, but with thought of Thompson, and Four still drifting through my mind, I'm physically and emotionally exhausted.
Christina turns into our complex, and I open my eyes to a near blizzard and Christina's voice. "Oh, do you mind if I sleep in your bed with you tonight? My heating blanket died."
**There it is! Hope you enjoyed this super-duper long chapter (almost 10,000 words)! Please review! Also I don't know when it is I'll be able to update again, but my promise still stands, I will not give up on this story!**