Al and Tris made it through. Eight Dauntless-born got cut and twelve more transfers were cut, but I didn't know them and even though I feel bad about it, I'm glad that it was them rather than Tris and/or Al. I miss Myra and Edward a lot; I spent the weekend off we were given basically moping. It was hard to be happy knowing that they were gone and I couldn't stop thinking about what might be going on with them now; I still can't. The tension in the dorm room made it worse, everyone's on edge even more than we were. Tris thinks Peter did it and I'm inclined to think she's right, he's the only one that stood to really gain something. But I haven't been able to look at him the same; he's always been unnecessarily cruel but this is ridiculous. It's one thing to remorselessly beat someone into unconsciousness, it's entirely another to stab them and ruin their life, then go on acting like nothing's wrong but that's exactly what he's doing. I know that I've been staring, I've been trying not to, but my eyes continue to drift back to him and I'm so far beyond revolted it's not even funny.

Maybe I shouldn't be so upset, maybe I don't have a right to be. Myra and Edward were my friends but their departure only helped me, saved my other friends, put me in eighth place. I am so close to number one I can almost taste it. But from what I've seen of the top seven's fighting prowess, the gap between points must be oceans wide.

' You know, there are those that would say that second place is just first loser ,' I hear Eric say in my head and I can't imagine what he must think of eighth. I am not inclined to listen to him or his opinions beyond what I absolutely have to put up with. But the part of me that truly is aggressive and competitive bristles at the fact that I'm only in the top ten. Not that it's an unfamiliar feeling by any means, I've spent my entire life until now in the shadows of everyone I knew. There has always been one or several more people better than me and honestly I had thought that I'd accepted this a long time ago, that I was far past the point of caring who I was and wasn't better than. I guess not though, I guess that I really am no better than any of my ex-Erudite peers in that way.

I'm almost glad to be back in training because that's something to think about besides what happened and because stage two presents me with a chance to solve this little problem of mine. This morning we worked out in the training room and then Four led us down an unfamiliar hallway where we wait now. I have no idea what part of the compound we're in but it's different than everywhere else. The floor is linoleum, the walls are pristine white, and fluorescent lights in the ceiling only make the place that much harsher. Part of me is vaguely reminded of Erudite, but this isn't as good and what I wouldn't give to get some natural light in here.

The Dauntless-born are here with us now and to expedite the process of whatever we're doing, Four and their trainer - I think her name was Laura or something - are now working together.

Despite the fact that we're basically the same now, the Dauntless-born and transfers still separate from each other out of habit. Even Lynn, Marlene, and Uriah stick to their side of the room and us transfers stick to ours. There's a lot more Dauntless-born than transfers, at least ten times as many. I suppose it's easier to choose to stay when you know what you're getting yourself into.

"So," Lynn says after a long, long silence, "which one of you is ranked first?"
"That would be me," says Peter with a truly appalling amount of smugness given what he may or may not have done to get there.

"Bet I could take you," she says like it's an absolute fact as she fidgets with the ring in her eyebrow.

Marlene gives an affectionate giggle as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm second," she continues, "But I bet any one of us could take you, Transfer."

I snicker. Her talk isn't unfamiliar to me, people postured the same way in Erudite just about different subjects.

Peter looks at her with a dark gleam in his eye that makes my skin crawl. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Which one of you is first?"

"Uriah," she says. "And I'm very sure; do you have any idea how long we've spent preparing for this?"

"Preparation isn't everything." He grins. "We had a guy who trained for years and he still got cut."

"He got stabbed," I interject. "And they refused to give him time off to recover."

"Well now he has all the time off he needs." Peter's laugh is smug and awful, and I feel sick to my stomach as Edward's scream echoes again in my head.

Before I can retort, Four opens his door and calls Lynn back.

Peter takes the interruption as an opportunity to change the subject. He turns to Uriah still wearing that awful, awful grin and says, "So you're first."

"Yeah," Uriah says apathetically. "And?"

" And don't you think it's a little unfair that you've all spent your entire lives training for this and we only get a few weeks?"

"Not really. Stage one was about skill, sure, but no one can prepare for stage two," he says. "At least, so I'm told."

"And wouldn't you have the same advantage had you spared us all from having to suffer through your presence and stayed in Candor," I say.

His smile melts and he rolls his eyes, opens his mouth to respond, but before he can Lori or whatever sticks her head out the door and calls him back. He glares at me as he passes. I'm still not afraid of Peter, I refuse to be truly afraid of him; but I'm more wary now than when we first met. After everything I've seen him do, can plausibly chalk up to him doing, I've realized that he's more than just a loud-mouthed nuisance with a penchant for picking on anyone he perceives as lesser, which is pretty much everyone. He's legitimately dangerous and he'll do whatever - hurt whoever - to get ahead.

We wait for our names to be called and eventually mine is, before my other friends' actually. Unfortunately, it's four that calls me back.

He sticks his head out the door, glances around, and says, "Is Tatiana Luxen out...oh." He sighs. "Ice Queen then."

Oh, nice to see that that carried over into stage two. Not. I glare at him as I walk through the door and he rolls his eyes in response.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect behind the door, but it wasn't a tiny room with nothing but a reclined chair and a computer terminal that has rolling chair pushed into it.

"Sit down," he says.

"What are am I doing?"

"You'll see."

I pause before sitting down. "Tell me."

"Try not to be difficult for once in your life and sit down," he says.

I fold my arms and sit down. "Now will you tell me?"

He sighs, making sort of a 'whatever' gesture. "Ever heard the phrase 'face your fears', well we're - or rather you're - going to be doing that literally. I'll inject you with a serum that will cause a hallucination and it'll end when you find a way to fight back or calm down enough. The results will be recorded on the computer."

"Alright. Was it really so hard to tell me that?"

He glares at me and then rolls his eyes. He tilts my head to the side and moves my hair out of the way to expose my neck. "If you keep being annoying I might miss the vein, that would be really unfortunate for you."

I fight the urge to retort only because I think that after what he did to Tris he may actually miss on purpose.

I grimace as he inserts the needle. The idea of having some mystery substance injected into my bloodstream grates on me, but though I trust Four about as far as I could throw him I do trust the scientists over at Erudite who likely developed this.

The world starts to grow blurry around me and I feel tired. I feel myself start to slouch in the chair and eventually I give into the feeling of exhaustion and close my eyes.

When I open them again I am alone, sitting on the edge of a metal railing. Beneath me is a deep, dark pit that I can't see the bottom of. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to move off of the railing onto a more solid structure but it creaks like it's going to fall apart and I think better of it. I grip the railing so hard that my knuckles turn white and my arms are trembling. I've never been afraid of heights before, at least not that I can remember. But now all I can think of is Christina hanging on by the tips of her fingers, Rita's friend screaming as she missed the jump. I am filled with a sickening sense of dread. I am afraid to move, I am afraid to even loosen my grip. My teeth start chattering and every tiny movement makes me feel like I'm going to fall; I'm afraid to look around, all I can do is keep my eyes trained on the dark expanse beneath me. It looks like it's getting closer and farther away the longer I stare at it and I begin to feel nauseous. I shift my weight slightly and the whole structure shudders violently; I gasp and squeeze the railing as tight as possible, shutting my eyes. I can feel myself falling backwards, I swear I can; but when I open my eyes nothing's happened. I'm still exactly where I started.

The railing is hardly more than three fingers wide and covered in rust. It digs into my hands and the backs of my thighs painfully but I'm certainly not about to move again.

Logically, I know that none of this is real and I just have to find a way to solve the problem. I am good at problem solving, it's one of the few things we're taught in Erudite that really can be applied everywhere. This should be no trouble for me. But every time I think about moving I also remember how easy it is to slip and die. It's not real, and I know that, but it feels real and I don't like the idea of dying even if it's just in a sim.

I'm not sure how long I spend frozen like that, it feels like hours. Wherever I am, it's dead silent, the sound of my own breathing horrendously loud in my ears instead.

Just move, Mimette , I think to myself. This is nothing, it isn't real .

But it feels very real; the rusted metal that's become uncomfortably warm under my touch, the stale air, the emptiness beneath me. I dare to look up and all I see is bright white light, so blinding that I have to look away after a second.

I keep thinking that I feel myself rocking back and forth, about to fall in either direction, but nothing happens.

To my right and left are solid rock holding up this beam; obviously making my way to either side would put me on solid ground and end this horrible, horrible test. But as I slowly shift to the right the metal groans in protest and I freeze, every inch of me trembling violently. My head begins to pound and I feel sick; I'm not sure how much longer I can take this. The room begins to feel oppressively hot and it becomes difficult to breathe. As I shift again I'm not sure which is shaking more, me or the beam. Suddenly one side slides, scraping horribly against the rock and the whole structure lists. I scream as I'm thrown to one side, clinging to the rail with my hands and legs as my back slams hard into the rock. My ears ring and my vison blurs, the nausea growing stronger. I can feel the blood rushing to my fingers; part of me is tempted to press my forehead to the metal and allow the cold to relieve my headache. But this metal isn't cold, in fact as time drags on both the rail and the room seem to be growing hotter. The urge to vomit washes over me and against my better judgement I lurch forward, dry-heaving into the abyss.

I've got to get out of here, this is being scored too. I can't imagine how ridiculous I must look, stuck on this railing like a cat in a tree. I can do better than this, I'm the second best initiate and I can only imagine how easy this must have been for Peter, the guy doesn't exactly seem to process emotions like any normal person should.

I am no miserable coward, I swear I'm not. Fear has never been something I've let control me, that would be humiliating. And this is no exception, in fact I think this is the most important time I possibly could force my emotions aside and focus.

I look around; I can't scale the sheer wall and there's no way in hell I can cross all the way to the other side without the whole structure collapsing.

Biting my lip I look down into the darkness again, I guess there is one other way I could get out of this.
Breathing heavily, I lean further out over the darkness, getting the same dizzying affect that I did the first time I looked down. Maybe the structure's shaking and maybe it's me; either way, I can almost feel myself already falling. I take a deep breath, the hot air doing nothing to calm me, and force my sweating palms to let go.

Gravity yanks me forward and I regret my decision immediately, but when I grab at the rail there's nothing there. My legs aren't enough to keep me on and I plunge into the abyss.

When I close my eyes nothing about my surroundings changes.

I sit bolt upright in the chair in a cold sweat, my heart beating wildly. The room is too hot, my throat tightens and the room lurches back and forth. Tears begin to gather in my eyes and a blush rises to my cheeks; it's embarrassing enough to be seen crying at all, the last thing I need is for Four to see me cry. I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. I blink away the tears and cut my eyes at him.

"Was that good? Am I done?" It's easier to snap than to cry, at least that's something we're both used to.

"I…" He pulls a face. "What did you just do there?"

"What do you mean what did I do? I completed the simulation, didn't I?"

The bite in my tone obviously annoys him, but he ignores it for now. "What? Uh, yeah but...what you did…that's not how your supposed to do it."

I huff. "Would it kill you not to be cryptic for once? I have no idea what you're trying to say to me."

"That's because you're not listening," he mutters and then grumbles incomprehensibly. He scrubs his hands over his face and then looks at me again. "You're not just supposed to be able do whatever you just did; that's not how the sims are supposed to work."

"Do I have to go again?" That's really the last thing I want to do, but I figure I should at least ask.

He gives me a weird look and then glances at something in the corner behind me. "No. Look, just go back to the dorms. You're done for the day."

I frown, not less confused in any way. "Is there something I should know?"

He mutters something that I don't hear and then waves me off. Deciding that I won't get a straight answer out of him, I leave.

Even after walking out I still feel jittery and like I'm going to be sick. I pass Tris, Christina, and Uriah still waiting. The nice thing to do would be to wait with them, but I don't feel good and all I want is to go lay down.

When I walk back into the dorm room Molly and Peter are sitting on his bunk giggling like children over something, which makes me more than a little uneasy. I didn't really think that either of them were even capable of laughing like that, in a way that almost sounds innocent, I imagine that they're laughing over something terrible. With Edward and Myra gone, and all the others still waiting for their turn in the fear sim, Will is the only other person in the room. He smiles when I walk in and stands up to meet me halfway across the room.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

"Not great. Four is still weird, but what else is new?" Both of those are understatements, but I don't especially feel like getting into any of that. I feel bad enough as it is. "How'd yours go?"

He shudders. "Not great." He flashes half a smile like he knows what I meant when I said it.

We walk in sync back to the end of the room that we share and sit down on his bed. He runs his hands through his hair and it makes the front stick up. I press my back against the cold stone wall and close my eyes. After a minute my hair pressing against my back becomes unbearably hot as well and I have to unbraid it to put it up into a bun.

"Mimi, are you doing okay?" Will frowns in concern.

I nod. "Just fine. It's just really hot in here."

"It's really not, but ok." Molly and Peter start laughing again and he gives me a deadpan look. "They've been like that since training, it's fucking weird."

"I didn't even think they were capable of laughing like that."

"Me neither. Think they're up to something?"

He shrugs. "I don't really care right now if they are. I kinda just want to close my eyes and never have to open them again."

"That bad, huh?"

He grimaced. "Worse." He shudders. "Buried alive. You?"

"Heights. I didn't even know I was afraid of that until, well...you know…"

He nods. We all remember the girl who fell off the roof; but no one else seems as disturbed by it as I am.

"Ay, me too. I'm sure that will make me wanna die sometime in the near future."

We share a weak smile and I tilt my head back against the wall and close my eyes again.

There's a part of me that wants to believe this doesn't matter. It's just another part of initiation, no more or less grueling than stage one. That this is nothing beyond a set of points I have to score to earn my spot here. That's what I'd like to think. But the truth is that this does matter to me; brutal as stage one was, I could never say that it was anything like that simulation. But it never made me feel violently sick to my stomach or left me on the verge of tears. That one time I lost to Peter aside, I never cried because of a fight.

I had chosen actively not to believe in the rumors that Dauntless was brutal and cruel said it was. My family had always had a terrible tendency of being disapproving of every faction that wasn't Erudite, even Amity where a quarter of our family lives. But they'd always held a special kind of contempt for the 'Dauntless Trash' as they referred to them; which was why ever mentioning Kira in any capacity was completely out of the question. Even Eliza's obvious affection toward her at the Choosing Ceremony was surely scrutinized. After all, she's still a Dauntless transfer and therefore not Erudite. Even before I met Kira, I didn't exactly dislike the Dauntless. Sure, they were loud, crass, and they took a bit of getting used to when I had to interact with them on the regular; but I would hardly say that I disliked them. Even now, I still don't dislike them. I still don't really regret the fact that I'm here; I wonder what might have been in Erudite plenty, but I think that's everyone. I keep trying to remind myself that this is home now, that these are my people, but honestly it is taking some getting used to. This is far from what I'd ever imagined, in good and bad ways. And I want to just keep telling myself that that's okay, that the things that have happened so far aren't the worst that could happen. I've been very fortunate, especially given how much I push my luck with everyone who I even remotely dislike. I know that in time it will fade, I'll begin to forget the things that have happened in the last five weeks. I'll make new memories and in time this really won't matter.

I think back to the day of the Choosing Ceremony and after, when the girl missed the jump. I replay it over and over again, and I can't tell what really happened and the details I've just filled in for myself; her scream, the crunch of her body on the pavement. What I know for sure is the sight of the blood pooling around her, her limbs bent at odd angles and how far the blood splattered. Then the nausea that overtook me; I didn't know her, I didn't feel anything for her. A brief moment of pity for her and the other girl, Rita, but I had already turned away by the time I began to feel that.

Then I jumped off a roof.

I still can't believe I did that and I'm not about to do it again anytime soon, but I remember it being over in less than a few seconds. The net knocked the wind out of me and I remember laying there, breathing heavily, staring up at the sky. I jumped second, following the Abnegation girl who I hadn't caught more than a glimpse of until dinner.

They say second place is just first loser , I hear Eric's voice in my head and it makes me frown.

I'm not a competitive person, not like that at least. And I love Tris to pieces, I wouldn't compete with her like that even if I was that competitive because she's my friend, that was always how Eliza, Casey, and I saw it. There was no point whatsoever in letting any kind of competition get in the way of our friendship.

I like to think that there's nothing Dauntless can really throw at me that would ever make me regret transferring. I don't care about Four, I don't care about Peter, I don't even really care all that much about Eric. I'm here because I want to be here and no one, no matter how horrid they are, is going to make me leave. Probably short of death, nothing's going to stop me from fighting to be here. Not fear in particular, isn't that why I'm Dauntless? Because I'm brave and maybe not fearless, but I'm not about to give in just because I'm a little rattled. If hundreds of thousands of others before me can handle fear and a little bout of nausea, why can't I?

It barely feels like a moment's passed until the sound of Peter talking catches my attention. Will isn't next to me anymore but rather standing in the center of the room, a small crowd even including some of the Dauntless-born though none of them my friends has begun to form.

"I think this is something you'll all just be dying to hear." He grins and begins to read from his tablet. "Historically, there have always been fluctuations in faction populations from generation to generation. As the values of our descendants shifts with the changing times, each faction evolves to accommodate. Every Choosing Ceremony marks another batch of young, bright minds entering all five factions, unique from all their elders and ancestors. Eager to break with tradition and bring about a change, however small. However, anyone who's ever opened a history textbook will notice that in the last two and a half centuries Abnegation has stagnated. Their insistence on clinging to antiquity, even if it means infringing on the rights and authority of the other four factions, hinders our advancement as a city and more importantly, endangers the faction system that they claim to uphold. Our city is always growing and changing and it is imperative that its leadership reflect that. Even more concerning, their dropping population makes it that much harder for them to lead us properly. Every year Abnegation draws in less transfers and loses more of their children to other factions. This year, most notably, we saw the transfers of the faction representative's two children, and the council liaisons son. If they, Caleb Prior, Beatrice Prior, and Robert Black, cannot even find it within themselves to devote their lives to the faction they were raised in, then why should we?" The door opens behind us and I glance back. Tris walks in and I'm tempted to just tell her to leave. Upsetting as the first article was to her, if her fear landscape was half as bad as mine then this is really the last thing she needs.

"This mass exodus of Abnegation's children, however, cannot be written off as merely population fluctuation or coincidence. The transfers of these three calls into question the soundness of Abnegation's teachings and values as they come after the transfer of Marcus Eaton's daughter, Angela, two years ago. If there were not something very deeply wrong with the faction, then what might compel them to leave? Andrew Prior's children in particular were quite the shock, both of them having departed for the two factions that Abnegation spurns most often: Dauntless and Erudite. It seems that they find no aspect of the life their birth faction had set out for them to be admirable, and have sought out the most extreme alternative. And can we blame them? These children have grown up living in the past, hardly able to enjoy all the luxuries that modern life has to offer. Perhaps this is not all they have suffered; Molly Atwood, a fellow Dauntless transfer, suggests a disturbed and abusive upbringing might be to blame. 'I heard her talking in her sleep once,' Molly says. 'She was telling her father to stop doing something. I don't know what it was, but it gave her nightmares." Molly grins at Tris, who glowers back at her.

"What?!" She exclaims, and then again. "What?!"

Peter stops reading and looks at her with a wide, almost maniacal grin.

"Give me that." Tris storms through the crowd and swipes at the paper he holds. He holds it high above her head

"Aw, but I'm not done reading." He laughs and looks down at the paper again. "However, perhaps the answer lies not in a morally bereft man, but in the corrupted ideals of an entire faction. Perhaps the answer is that we have entrusted our city to a group of proselytizing tyrants who do not know how to lead us to greater prosperity."

Tris scowls and stomps hard enough on his toes to make them pop. He swears loudly and curls in on himself on instinct. She snatches the paper from his hand but it rips at the bottom, shredding the bottom paragraph. Then Tris turns on Molly and dives at her. But Will grabs her by the waist before she can make contact.

"Alright," he says. "Let's not do that."

"That's my father!" she screams, though it's unclear if she's yelling at Will or Molly. "That's my father, you coward!"

"Tris!" Will lifts her off the ground and half carries her out of the room.

She drops the paper, but Will doesn't stop to allow her to pick it up. He slams the door behind them and a tense silence descends on the room.

I pick up the paper before Peter can reach it.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I snap, turning on him but holding the paper behind my back.

He snickers. "Aw, what do you mean?" He tries at an innocent look and I think if I rolled my eyes any harder then they'd roll right out of my head. "You did tell me to find better material."

"Peter, would you just give it a rest for once in your life?" Christina says, she and Al stand next to me. Al loudly cracks his knuckles and stares him down; even though he's more gentle giant than anything else, that doesn't make his appearance any less threatening.

"That supposed to scare me?" He snorts. "I'm the best fighter here."

"That's because you stabbed the only guy who was better than you." I say before really considering how that might sound.

"Oh yeah?" He raises his eyebrows. "Prove it, Ice Queen."

But I can't, and he knows that. It's just a theory, a plausible one but a theory nonetheless.

He smirks. "I thought so."

I decide to walk away rather than punch him. He's right either way I guess.

Out in the hallway, it seems that Will's managed to calm down Tris, though she still seems pretty furious I don't think that she's going to punch anyone. For now.

"It's my turn to get tattooed," Christina says. "You guys wanna come with me?"

Tris shrugs sort of apathetically and off me go. She shuffles along behind them and I walk beside her.

"You okay?" I say quietly and she gives me a deadpan look. "Right, stupid question." I hold the torn and crumpled paper out to her. "I was able to grab this though."

She takes it from me and then rips it in half, then again, and again, and again.

"Better?"

She shrugs. "Something like that."

I catch a glimpse of the writer's name, E. Silver, which I know for a fact is a pseudonym. The head of the journalism department, Lucy Sharp, is not quite infamous for smearing peoples' names but almost. Of course, that would reflect badly on her; so she writes under the name E. Silver. That everyone's fine with; everyone loves a good rumor, and Lucy is more than happy to oblige.

My parents and Jeanine have always liked her for some reason; not all of the department heads are close to our family, but she is. Which is odd, because usually they detest the upper crust's gossip just as much as I do, and it's Lucy's writing that starts half those rumors.

As we pass a trashcan in the Pit, she throws the pieces away and they float down like really inflammatory confetti.

Ahead of us, Al gives Christina a piggyback ride and Will speedwalks to keep up with them as they charge through the crowd that tries to give them something of a wide berth.

When we reach the tattoo parlor, Christina slides down off of Al's back and looks at the rest of us.

"Any of you care to join me in this grand tattoo adventure."

Will chuckles. "Not even a little bit."

I shrug. "I think I've made enough drastic changes for the time being."

"Mimi," she whines, taking my hands. "Come on. You're Dauntless, aren't you?"
"I am. That doesn't mean I have to attack my skin with needles."

"Mimi." She squeezes my hands.

"I'll join you, Chris," Tris says and Christina beams.

"See, Tris is fun."

I roll my eyes. "That's not going to convince me."

"I'll be your best friend," she tries again as she thumbs through one of the design books.

"You're already my best friend."

"Augh!" Will exclaims, dramatically putting his hand over his heart. "I thought I was your best friend!"

"I'm still on the fence about whether I like you at all in general, let alone you being my best friend."

He pouts at me and grabs my arm. "Mimi."

"Don't 'Mimi' me...wow that's a lot of the same syllable."

The others laugh. Tris and Christina pick their designs and sit down in the chairs next to each other.

"You sure, Mimi?" Christina calls.

I'm about to say no, but out of the corner of my eye I spot a design on the wall on glass that I hadn't noticed before. I point it out to one of the artists and Christina beams at me.

Later, we stroll through the pit with no particular direction, Al with Christina on his back again. All three of us girls sporting new tattoos and all of us with a few new clothes. I got a few more clothes that will be good in the cold winter weather when I eventually am allowed to leave the compound. We even talked Tris into buying a shirt that shows her shoulders and collarbones; very scandalous. After that Christina tried her hand at doing someone else's makeup, doing Tris' eyes this time without complaint. I let my hair hand long and loose and I fidget absentmindedly with one of my streaks, still kind of getting used to the look. I expected Four to make some comment on it, but surprisingly enough he didn't. It's not the homage to my birth faction that it looks like, it's just a nice color. The diamond on my wrist though, that's a nod to Erudite. I miss it, I can't help it I guess. Visiting Day made it better and worse; it was great to see them all again, but I miss Gwendolyn, Victoria, and Jeanine more than before and honestly I'm kind of hurt that they didn't show up. I know that Gwendolyn and Victoria have problems with Dauntless, but I still wish that I could see them.

"I still can't believe you got another tattoo," Will says to Tris.

She pulls a face. "Why? Because I'm a Stiff?"

He shakes his head. "No, you're just...sensible. I mean I thought Mimi was too but her favorite pastime is proving me wrong so…"

I shrug noncommittally. I like to think of myself as sensible; sort of anyways. I mean, clearly not like Will is imagining - still kind of stuck to Erudite ways of thinking that look down on Dauntless by default. But isn't that what I'm trying to prove, that I'm not Erudite? I mean, just because it will never technically be true doesn't mean that I can't try, right?

"So," he continues after a second, "fears."

"Fears," Christina repeats. "Tris?"

"Too many crows."

"Crows?" I say.

"Crows," she repeats.

"Can I ask why?"

She starts a bunch of different sentences, but can't seem to find the words and instead just shrugs.

"Too much acid," Al shudders.

"Buried alive," Wills says. "Like, coffin and only it was clear and terrible."

"Christina?" Tris asks after a moment of silence between us.

She shrugs half-heartedly. "I don't wanna talk about it really. Mimi?"
"Heights. I didn't even know I was afraid of heights until then."

"Come on." Will nudges her lightly with his elbow. "Everyone else went, you've gotta tell us yours."

"And you were the one to bring it up," Al adds.

She swallows hard and looks away. I've never seen Christina shy away from telling us anything before. Usually it's her pushing us to tell her stuff.

"It's…stupid." She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Really."

"So then why don't you want to tell us?" Will presses.

"Because I just don't, okay? It's just uncomfortable and not really a conversation I want to have."

"Chris, Tris is afraid of crows apparently," I say. "I promise, whatever it is it can't possibly be that bad."

"I am not afraid of crows." Tris frowns, seeming insulted.

"Okay," I say dismissively.

Christina huffs. "Can we just…drop it?"

Will shrugs. "I mean, sure. I guess. You know, it's really fascinating how the whole thing works. I mean the whole thing is basically a struggle between your thalamus, which is producing the fear, and your frontal lobe, which makes decisions. But the simulation is all in your head, so even though you feel like someone is doing it to you, it's just you, doing it to yourself and that's not even getting into the hardware and software that allows the observer to see inside your head. I mean like…" He trails off and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, I must sound like a total Erudite. Force of habit."

"No, it's interesting," Tris says.

"Yeah." I nod. "The micro-transmitters in the serum, same ones they use for the Aptitude Test, are super cool all on their own and took like a decade to actually get working. Not to say that it doesn't still break down and have to be redesigned like every other year." I let out a breathy laugh. "I know so much about the development of this stuff, you have no idea."

"Yeah, my sister's a chemist. She wrote her thesis on the development and functionality of the fear simulation serum and the Aptitude Test one."

I nod. "Jeanine may not have loved to talk about the Aptitude Test as it actually works, but she's told me so much about the development and chemistry behind it. Like, I don't know jack shit about advanced chemistry as a subject, but I know that like I know the alphabet."

We would have continued probably, but Al almost drops Christina at that moment and she shrieks. Her hands clawing to find purchase and wind up digging into his neck. Al gags as he tightens his grip on her legs. Will puts his hand on her back to keep her upright while they readjust.

"You good?" Will asks, trying to stifle his laughter.

Tris and I openly snicker to each other and I overhear Al mutter to Tris as we keep walking, "I might have done that on purpose to ask them to stop talking."

"Al!" she whisper-exclaims back as she laughs.

"What's going on?" Will walks ahead to fall in step with them.

"Al apparently doesn't care for you two nerd-ing out about things we're not even supposed to talk about," Christina says. "Can't say I blame him."

"Snitch," Al says with a laugh.

"Rude." Will pulls a face, but has a hard time not laughing.

"I will drop you, you know." He loosens his grip on her legs to accentuate his point but Christina's arms are wrapped firmly around his neck this time.

I'm too busy laughing to notice that Al's stopped in front of me and I smack into Christina's back.

"Instructor alert," Al says.

Four stands on an outcropping over the Chasm, leaning against the railing. A few people surround him, loudly laughing and talking in the way I've come to expect of the Dauntless. Among them, I recognize Amelie by her hair and tattoos but she doesn't notice me.

"Yikes," Will says under his breath.

"Yikes indeed." I wedge myself between him and Al so that all five of us can stand together.

"At least it's not Eric," Tris says. "He'd probably make us play chicken or something."

"Point taken, but Four's plenty scary," Will reminds her. "Remember when he put a gun to Peter's head?"

Christina snickers. "I'm pretty sure he almost wet himself."

"Okay, but Peter had it coming," Tris counters.

"Don't get me wrong," I say, "I hate Peter as much as anyone else, but Four did kind of overreact."

We all know what Peter is capable of, and I'm very sure that he isn't exactly the prime example of an underserving target. He's a lot more than just a jerk, whether we can prove it or not we know that he's dangerous. But it doesn't change the fact that Four is supposed to be the adult in the situation and Dauntless or no, I don't think putting a gun to your student's head – however disrespectful they may be – is really an appropriate reaction.

Fucking sue me.

"Yeah I'm with Mimi on this one," Christina agrees. "He absolutely cannot take a joke in any capacity."

I think back to the first day when she mocked Four's name and he got all up in her face about it. He's never been nice by any stretch of the imagination, but really you never know what you're going to get with him. Sometimes he'll just get kind of pissy, and sometimes he'll openly threaten you.

"Tris!" Four calls and waves her over in his direction.

"Double yikes," Will mutters.

"What did you do this time?" Christina asks only half-jokingly as she slides off Al's back.

She rolls her eyes. "Nothing."

"Okay," I say sarcastically.

"Well," Christina nudges Tris forward, "go."

She stumbles in the first few steps but rights herself. She's close enough still that we can overhear his conversation with her. His friends go on without him, ignoring Tris like she never approached.

"You look different," he says. His words are slurred and he appears to be holding onto the railing for balance.

She laughs. "What are you doing?"

"Flirting with death." He smirks.

"Oh if only death would flirt back," I mutter.

"Oh my god, Mimi," Will says slowly, turning to face me.

Christina cackles and Tris glances back at us, Christina's laughter having caught her attention.

"Probably not a good idea," Four adds.

"Yeah, probably not."

Al begins to shift back, putting his arm out to tug the rest of us back with him.

"What are you doing?" Will asks through his giggles. "I wanna hear them."

"We should give them some space," he mutters back.

Christina, Will, and I share a look and then creep closer.

"Didn't know you had a tattoo," he says, his eyes flickering down to her collarbone.

Christina wheezes in laughter

"Crows," he mutters and Will audibly chokes before collapsing into giggles completely.

Tris glances back at us again with a frown. "Ravens actually."

"Well I'd invite you to hang out with us but you're not supposed to see me like this."

"What? Drunk?"

"Yeah...well, no. Real, I guess."

"Real," I repeat with no small amount of mocking in my tone and then laugh.

"Well, I'll pretend I didn't."

He leans down and whispers something that makes her blush, then more loudly says, "You should probably get back to your friends. I think they're waiting on you." He gives us a pointed look over her head that I think is meant to be somewhat intimidating, but we're too busy laughing for it to have much of an effect.

"Right." She laughs. "Do me a favor and stay away from the Chasm."

"Of course." He winks and our laughter grows louder.

"Wow," Will drawls as she returns.

She opens her mouth to say something, but Al scoops her up in his arms and she shrieks, throwing her arms around his neck on instinct.

"Come on," he says, "let's get to dinner."

She unwraps one of her arms to wave at Four as we walk away.

"What was that all about?" he says when we're out of an earshot.

"Nothing." She shakes her head. "He was just drunk. It was nothing. It was funny to see him that way though...that was why I was laughing."

"Oh sure." Will nods along sarcastically. "Couldn't possibly be because-" Tris swipes at him before he can finish.

Christina and I share a mad giggle and Tris rolls her eyes. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Al wears a slight frown.

"Whatever, you guys. I know what you're thinking and you're wrong."

"Oh-kay," I say sarcastically. Will, Christina, and I sharing a smirk.

Al sets Tris down when we reach the dining hall and the subject of our conversation shifts. We grab our food and sit down at our usual table. Out of habit, I glance in the direction of Edward and Myra's table. Or their old table rather, and there's a pang in my chest when I notice the new people there, Dauntless members just taking back what might be their usual table now that a few of the initiates are gone.

I wonder how they're doing, their first full day as factionless. Edward newly blind. I hope they're alright. I try not to think about all the ways that they probably aren't.

Later that night I'm halfway asleep, my eyes beginning to flutter closed but I'm snapped awake again by a loud gasp. Christina sits bolt upright in her bed, panting, one hand on her chest.

"Fuck," she whispers.

"Christina?" I sit up on my elbows.

She wipes her cheeks with the heel of her hands. "Mimi?" Her voice sounds weak and like she's out of breath.

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"It's nothing," she mutters. "I just...had a bad dream." I see her silhouette curl in on itself, her forehead resting on her knees. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don't sound fine?"

"I'm fine ," she repeats more insistently and it sounds more like she's trying to convince herself than me.

I sit up more, realizing that I'm not going to be getting back to sleep any time soon.

"What are you doing up?" she changes the subject.

"Trying to get to sleep actually." It feels a little awkward whispering to each other halfway across the room. But Peter, Drew, and Al's snoring never breaks.

"Oh." She chuckles awkwardly. "Sorry, I'll let you sleep."

I shrug even though I know she can't see it. "It's whatever. I don't really think I want the fear sim stuff creeping into my dreams anyways…Is that what yours was about?"

She's quiet for a while but then very quietly says, "Yeah. I, uh, I still don't really want to talk about it though."

"That's fine."

"Hey, you wanna come sit over here. I feel like we shouldn't be whisper-shouting across the room."

I chuckle. "Sure."

It takes me a second to get my bearings once I stand up. This room is so dark and the stone is so uneven. But eventually I am able to get over to Christina's bunk and sit down on the edge of it. She sits on her knees with her back very straight as she fidgets with her nightshirt.

"So, heights," she says.

"Heights," I repeat. "I, um, I've never really had something affect me like that. I mean I've never been afraid of heights before in my life and the fact that I am now is just…I don't like it."

"I don't think anyone likes being afraid."

"Not what I meant. I…I don't know, it's hard to explain and now that I'm saying this out loud I'm realizing how stupid it sounds."

"It's not stupid." I can vaguely make out that she shakes her head. "But, um, I know that I brought it up but can we talk about something else. I just…don't want to think about that dream anymore."

"Sure…what though?"

She laughs. "I don't know. Ummmm, hey what about Maureen?"

"What about Maureen?"

"I mean she's your sister in law, that's nuts. I mean she's famous and all."

I shrug. "It's not nuts really, not like you think. I mean trust me, she's not quite as beloved in Erudite as she was in Candor."

"Are you kidding?"

"Not really, no. It matters more to people that she's married to a department head; figure skating's not our – their thing really, that's gymnastics."

What Marlene said about Erudite surfaces in my mind again, how there's a very particular way that people are expected to be. Now that she's pointed it out to me it seems obvious; I mean lots of the people in my parents' social circle never saw a problem in pointing out the ways that my siblings and I didn't quite fit in to my parents and to us. I think the word people used most often was ' unconventional '; which really doesn't sound like much when you compare it to other insults people use, but it's a clear understatement, the meaning of which is pretty much universally understood. We weren't quite right, not like our parents, not like we should be. There was a whole myriad of things they saw as wrong with us, some of it's almost universally agreed on and some of it most people brush off because it's just bigotry.

"She's won the championship for them five years in a row now," Christina says incredulously.

I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. I mean it does, but not like it matters in Candor."

They didn't quite like me because I wasn't like Eliza, because I didn't work so obsessively and wasn't quite so competitive; and because I just didn't really care for them or the conventions that I broke from.

"So what does matter there, scholastic decathlons?"

They didn't like Mark because he was artsy and also didn't have the competitive drive that he was expected to have. He's always been more interested in befriending people than competing against them and in Erudite – among the rich and powerful who mostly got to be where they are by being competitive – that was a weakness.

"You joke, but it's true. Those and gymnastics are basically the faction wide pastimes. What about Candor, figure skating matters but what else?"

They didn't like Minerva because she was the wrong kind of competitive, because she saw no point in being passive aggressive and manipulative. She preferred aggressive aggressive honestly, and still does.

When they left, people were sorry for my parents but they weren't surprised and I know that they felt some kind of smugness because they'd been right all along. Because Mark and Minerva weren't meant for Erudite and their unconventionality was caused by that. To me though, I never really saw those qualities of being the clues that they weren't Erudite; I didn't think that back then and I don't think that now. Playing to the stereotypes that make up the lens other factions see us with doesn't do any of us any good.

"Debate," she says. "Like, I know that's absolutely no surprise to anyone but it's really important. Our – Their professional debaters have just as big of a following as the figure skaters and then some. Also, uh, cooking; y'know how the Dauntless are really super into baked goods, well imagine that but with real food. They used to hold seasonal cooking competitions, my dad competed in a few and it was always super fun to watch." I can't see her smile, but I can hear it. The terror of her nightmare is beginning to fade as nostalgia fills her mind.

Melanie and Michael were less scrutinized, they played their parts a lot better. But Michael's transition and Melanie's sexuality drew comments from more people than anyone really anticipated. And for once, business didn't supersede family and more people - some friends and some just business partners - fell out of my family's good graces than I could believe. Others just became smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves. I happen to know that Eliza's parents are among that bunch.

"My little sister's on one of the mid-levels debate teams," Christina says. "I used to...I used to go and watch her competitions every other weekend and help her rehearse at home. She's good, Mimi, I wish you could have seen her."

"If she's half as fight-y as you are, I don't doubt it." She snorts and I can imagine her eyeroll.

They never liked me because I was too nice and not interested in bending over backwards to meet some arbitrary standard. They would tell me that I was far more charming than Minerva though, that I was better than her and Mark in no uncertain terms but there was always more that I could be doing with my life. I learned relatively young to just tune them out and I think that my siblings did too. There wasn't a whole lot that we could do besides ignore them.

"You're one to talk about fight-y." She laughs at me. "For all that you talk about propriety, you don't seem very interested in - I don't know, not insulting your instructor both to his face and behind his back."

"I don't do well with idiots, Chris. And I don't know what Tris sees in him but he seems like an idiot and an arrogant one at that."

I've always felt bad for Eliza; her parents may have been quiet about their opinions around mine, but they were two of the worst by far and I can't fathom having to listen to them all the time. I could barely stand to listen to them at my parents' parties.

She snickers. "Well I'm not going to disagree with you there. Still," she probably grins at me. "I think you might be even worse than me."

I roll my eyes. "No point in being nice when he's such a dick to me, yeah?"

"Sure." She chuckles.

Call me tactless, maybe Dauntless has just brought up something in me that I'd always choked down for the sake of propriety. I've never thought it prudent to be openly rude before, especially not to figures of authority. But Four, if nothing else, inspires a kind of anger in me I've never really felt before.

I see her silhouette reach up and scrape her hand through her hair again. "You know, I think I need a shower. I don't suppose you're planning on sleeping any time soon?"

I shrug. "Who knows. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mimi."

We both get up, me to go back to my bed and her to go to the bathroom. I lay down and stare at the bunk above me, letting my mind wander anywhere but the gaping maw of darkness I faced today. If every day from here on is like this, I don't know how I'll survive. I don't know how any of us will survive. I don't know how anyone has ever survived literally facing their fears like that. Maybe it would be easier for me if I were really Dauntless. Though I guess I won't ever really know.